Chapter Text
The first time Hubert had found out about Byleth’s situation, it wasn’t exactly ideal. The professor had been hurt badly in battle, covered in fresh wounds and blood. He had made a foolish decision to rush on up ahead of his students to make sure they would be safe while venturing forward. Unfortunately for him, there had been more bandits waiting to ambush the class up ahead. He did his best to fight the bandits off while waiting for the class to catch up to him. He hadn’t been able to differentiate the faces before him. He was raised as a mercenary’s son, the blood of many stained his hands and soul. To him, they weren’t people. They were simply enemies. If it wasn’t them, it’d be his life at the end of their blade. He stopped feeling sympathy for those who only had the intention to harm him.
Many thoughts had crossed his mind as he tried to fight them off. What if he died here? Would his father be proud of him? Would the students remember him five years from now? Would people cry? These questions flooded his mind and distracted him. His moves were beginning to get sloppy and the bandits used this to their advantage. One slice with a sword, then a graze from the enemy’s axe, Byleth’s wounds were increasing by the second. His vision had begun to turn as red as the blood that stained his clothes.
After what felt like an hour, his students arrived and swiftly took out the opponents. The students were watching out for their professor, making sure he wasn’t hurt any more than he already was. By the time all the bandits were wiped out, Byleth could barely grip onto his sword and was swaying from side to side. He looked ill and his posture was poor. His exhaustion was plain to see as blood trickled from his temple down to his chin. Hubert was the first to act, heading to the professor as quick as he could to catch him before his weak body hit the ground. The next to follow was Edelgard, then Bernadetta with Dorothea followed by the rest of the class. As Hubert placed one arm on Byleth’s shoulder and another on his waist, the blue haired man slipped into unconsciousness.
“You could have gotten yourself killed out there! You’re lucky the little brats cared enough to follow you!” Sothis was talking to Byleth from her mighty throne, irritation dripping from her voice with a hint of… concern?
“I guess I am.” Byleth was too worn out to be standing and lectured, even if it was in the realm of his unconsciousness.
“Is that all you have got to say for yourself? Hmph. So be it. You always were a man of little words,” a sigh escaped the little girl’s lips as she slumped in her seat “Please don’t let this happen in the future. Whatever happens to you happens to me as well, so take that into consideration next time.”
All the professor could do was nod to that and apologize.
When Byleth came to his senses, he was on a bed in the infirmary. The room was silent and all that could be heard was idle conversations and students of the academy walking on the grass and concrete. Shades of oranges, reds, and yellows painted the room’s walls and floors. The small dust particles that resided in the room danced in the sunset’s light as if they were to bid farewell to the day’s sunlight. Although the atmosphere in the infirmary was relaxing and calm, Byleth couldn’t help but notice the feeling of a pair of eyes on him. Watching him as if he were prey to a meticulous creature.
“You’re awake.” The voice was Hubert’s.
The professor tried to open his mouth to respond but nothing came out of his throat. This prompted Hubert to continue talking.
“I’m also now aware of your… situation. I wouldn’t have known at all if it were not for today’s incident,” The raven haired student was emotionless despite finding out something that would have been pretty serious to anyone else. “I don’t intend to tell anyone else, of course. It is not any of my concern or business so this secret can stay between us.” There was the smallest hint of something akin to kindness, an action that the professor had known Hubert was capable of but was uncommon.
Byleth smiled ever so slightly and nodded in response. A weak ‘thank you’ escaped his lips but went unheard as the student walked out of the room. Hubert von Vestra was truly a misunderstood person after all.