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It’s like any other morning, but the day will end with Hubert’s death.
It’s been planned for months, but he cannot help but press closer against Ferdinand, wrapping his arms tighter around his waist and burying his nose in long orange hair, breathing in deeply. He feels Ferdinand stir in his arms before a warm hand slowly runs up and down his arm.
“Hubie?” Ferdinand’s voice is laden with sleep, words slurring together. Hearing him in the morning like this will be one thing he misses the most. “Something wrong?”
“No.” He held Ferdinand tighter. “I love you.”
Ferdinand twisted in his arms at that. Hubert loosened his grip enough to make it easier, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. Like there always is when Hubert says those three words, there’s a pretty blush settled over Ferdinand’s cheekbones, one that he knows is on his own face. “You’re being weird and the day hasn’t even started.”
“I can’t say that I’m in love with you?” Hubert asked, moving to brush some tangled hair out of Ferdinand’s face. The younger man sighed before tucking his head under Hubert’s chin. Arms toned from years of handling many weapons hold wrap around him in a loose embrace.
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Is murmured into his neck, hot puffs of air accompanying the words. “Don’t be an ass.”
Another wonderful thing about Ferdinand in the morning, his speech loses all the pomp that he uses everywhere else. Hubert enjoys how refined Ferdinand strives to be, but having him so relaxed that he doesn’t even think about what he’s saying is something only he’s privy too, a private thing only he gets to witness. “Fine. I find you detestable and I hate being around you. Get out of my room.”
One hand stroking up and down his back promptly smacks him. “I said don’t be an ass, Hubie.”
“It’s all I know how to be, unfortunately.” He fears how Ferdinand will react when he reveals himself to be alive after his supposed death. He wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to talk to him again. Hubert isn’t sure that if Ferdinand did the same thing he could forgive him, he also knew that Ferdinand had the habit of forgiving many, many things.
It is one thing Hubert loves about him.
It is also one thing Hubert hates about him.
Still, as much as he may hate how giving Ferdinand is, how understanding he can be, he still hopes that at the end of this he will still be able to love him.
---
“I’m sorry to call you in here so suddenly, Ferdinand,” Edelgard said to him.
“It is of no trouble, Emperor Edelgard.” He responded after bowing.
“Please, this isn’t a formal call.” She said. There is an emotion he has never seen on her face before. “I have some… unfortunate news you need to hear about.”
Nothing could have prepared him for what she said next.
“Hubert’s been killed.”
Ah, he thinks, It was regret on her face.
---
He knew that Ferdinand was going to give a speech at the funeral. It was part of the plan after all. What else would work better than a heartfelt speech from the one who loved Hubert?
He feels slimy thinking like that, using Ferdinand’s grief to accomplish something. The unfortunate reality is that it would be the final thing that would undoubtedly cause Hubert’s prey to think he had died.
A necessary evil, if you will.
Hubert himself lingers in the crowd, watching out for any snakes to come slithering in the face of such a disaster when Ferdinand goes up on the stage. Hubert spares a brief glance - it shouldn’t have lasted more than a second - but he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from his poor, sweet Ferdinand.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Ferdinand looked terrible. Everything was there, pristine clothes and polished armor, but his face was exhausted. It was haunted and haggard in a way that seems entirely foreign on his face, even his bright eyes seemed duller than usual.
“Thank you for coming, everyone.” His voice is the most defeated Hubert has ever heard him sound, and he desperately wanted to tell him he’s still alive, that he’s not dead but he can’t. “Hubert was a… private person, but I’m sure he would have been touched to see how many were here.”
There are a long few minutes of silence before Ferdinand continues, his voice noticeably more unsteady and shaky. “Hubert von Vestra was… he was a wonderful person, even if he could be… trying at times. I…” Ferdinand’s eyes screwed shut and his face scrunched up in the way Hubert knows is to keep himself from sobbing. He felt like the scum of the world to have done this to him, to keep doing this to him. “I loved him with all my heart, so I know… I know that…” His voice hitches and cracks on his next words, delicate glass breaking over harsh tile. “I can’t do this. I-I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Hubert watched with a heavy heart as Dorothea wrapped an arm around a hysterical Ferdinand to guide him away from the crowd. His cries echo throughout the street, heart-wrenching sobs that feel like they grow louder the farther Ferdinand is taken away. Edelgard smoothly takes his place, although Hubert can tell from her pinched expression that she hated having to put Ferdinand up for a show just as much as he did.
He is the worst person alive. To hurt Ferdinand like that and to justify the pain he is putting him through is disgusting. If Ferdinand can accept him after all this, he will spend the rest of his life making it up to him, making sure that Ferdinand knows he made the right choice in choosing to love Hubert.
But that is later.
Right now he has a job he needs to do, and the sooner he can do it, the better.
---
“Do you want company?” She asked him like he’s some sort of frightened animal.
He hates it.
“No.” He wants it to sound strong, but it comes out with a sniffle. “I want to be alone.”
Dorothea visibly hesitated and her arms lingered around him. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
“Should I not be allowed to choose how I want to grieve?” He asked. It’s unfair of him to say but he can apologize later, when he’s had some time to compose himself. “Is that too much for me to ask?”
“Of course you can, Ferdie.” She immediately relented, something she would have never done in another circumstance. “I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll be by later to check on you.”
“Fine.” He just wants her to go.
He stumbles into Hubert’s room and crashes on the bed. This morning Hubert had been here with him, holding him in his arms and talking with him. He blindly holds his arm out and feels for where Hubert normally is and tries to remember what had happened just that morning, tries to remember the feel of Hubert in his arms.
If he really wanted, he could fool himself into believing that Hubert is away on a mission and that he’ll be back in a week’s time, with new things to tell Ferdinand about, that in a week he’ll wake up with Hubert back in bed and the strong smell of coffee that always lingers in the room will come back and he’ll be able to complain about it to Hubert.
It won’t happen.
This is what will happen: Ferdinand will never again have a hand at the small of his back and low whispers in his ear. The smell of coffee will lessen more and more every day because Hubert is no longer here to drink ungodly amounts of it. Ferdinand will walk in here with gossip and news to share only to begin sentences before he remembers what has happened.
That is what will happen.
Ferdinand has been without Hubert for less than a day and already his world is crumbling beneath his feet and he’s fumbling to get a grip on anything in his life but he can’t.
The pillow he clutches to him still has the smell of Hubert’s cologne, but it is a cheap replacement for the man himself.
It is all he has left.
He sobs and he screams until there is nothing left for him to do except try to fall asleep. Everyone in their rooms has surely heard him, but he can’t bring himself to care about what they feel.
It is all he has left.
---
The way Edelgard treated him surprised him.
He remembered when the Professor lost her father and Edelgard had told them to dry their tears and to continue on living. This is what he expected to hear from her.
Instead, she told him to take a break. That his work will be handled during the time he needs to mourn, that he shouldn’t worry about doing his job in this hard time. That all their friends will help him.
The anger that swells up at her kind expression and kinder words is unexpected and promptly shoved down, replaced by a smile and a, “No.”
He refused. Doing nothing will make him feel even worse, so he takes his own workload and insists that she give him half of Hubert’s duties to take care of. (He would have tried assume all of Hubert’s papers, but he had known Edelgard wouldn’t let him take on so much.) He will not stand idle and let his thoughts of loneliness and sorrow get in the way.
He will make himself useful.
He must make himself useful.
It’s after a week of no Hubert, a week of non-stop work when they finally try to stop him.
“Ferdie,” Dorothea said to him, “You’re overworking yourself. I can’t remember the last time I saw you out of your office.”
“There are important things to be done,” He told her. “I have both my work and Hubert’s to do.”
“I recall Edie mentioning how frustrating it is that you keep refusing her offers for breaks.”
“You know what I did when Edelgard all but forced me to take a break the other day?” He asked her. He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went to our table and made a cup of tea.”
Dorothea gave him a smile, one full of support and happiness. “That’s good-”
“I accidentally made a cup of coffee, too.” He finishes. Dorothea’s smile dropped from her face and her brows are together and her lip is out in concern. “It was muscle memory, I made it on instinct. And then when I sat down and looked across at the coffee I remembered no one could come by to drink it.”
“Ferdie…”
“I will continue to work.” He continued on, “It’s not right that I should be relieved of duties when everyone else is working.”
“The rest of us didn’t just lose our husband.” She said, clearly exasperated. “You need to rest, you look like you’re dead on your feet.”
He wants to scream that he has tried to sleep, first in his room and then moving to Hubert’s. He can never manage more than a couple of hours before the nightmares come and his mind conjures up what Hubert’s final moments could have been. None of them knew how Hubert died.
The human imagination can be an amazing thing, but it can also be cruel in the face of ignorance.
Ferdinand has learned this lesson well over the years. It seems he will continue to have that lesson beat into his skull in different ways.
First his father, then the Church, and now, once more, with Hubert.
“I get enough sleep.” He told her with a weary smile, “Don’t worry yourself over me.”
“We’re all worried about you.” She tried again.
“There’s no need.” He felt stiff and awkward, like a snake in someone else’s skin. “I am perfectly capable of doing my job.”
“This isn’t about doing your job, Ferdinand! This is about our friend working himself to death because he’s not coping and we don’t know what the hell we should do to help you!”
If Ferdinand were in his right mind, if he were able to muster of the image of the perfect and shining noble everyone knew him to be, he would have assured her he was fine and that he will try better in the future. He would have done anything in his power to make her feel better.
As it is, he is tired. He’s been running on fumes and so his carefully cultivated image of the perfect noble is lost to him, just like Hubert is lost to him.
“Then do nothing.” He is tired of this conversation. “And let me continue on. Please, Thea.”
Her frown is reluctant, but she cannot deny him. “Fine. But I will be checking up on you every day.”
“If it makes you feel better.” He said.
---
It’s done.
Thales is dead and the remnants of Those Who Slither in the Dark will be quickly taken out by Imperial troops.
He would have finished the job himself, but he was weary and wished to see his husband again. In her latest letter to him, Edelgard commanded he come home and that the cleanup work will be taken care of.
It has been months since he’s last seen Ferdinand and while he is gladdened by the fact that he will have him in his arms once more; he knows it will be… difficult.
He gets to the stables of the palace late at night. He’s unsaddling his horse when a familiar voice calls out.
“Who’s there?”
“I doubt you would believe me.” He called back, not bothering to turn around to see Dorothea.
“Hubert?” The shock in her voice quickly bleeds into anger. “You’re alive?”
“The ruse was necessary for a… important mission.” The only ones who knew about Those Who Slither in the Dark are him, Edelgard, Byleth and Ferdinand. He turns to face her. “So, yes. I never died.”
Her expression contorts, the flame in her hand casting hard shadows across her face, her gentle and smooth features turning sharp and angular in the harsh lighting.
“Do you even know what this has done to Ferdinand?”
“I am well aware that there are consequences of my actions, Dorothea.” He said tiredly. It is something that has kept him up and worried at him this entire time. “It has been on my mind non-stop.”
“Oh, so you still thought about your poor husband?” She asked, tone dripping with a sweet kind of venom. “That’s so kind of you to remember him. He remembered you, he hasn’t been the same since you went and died on him.”
“I was about to be on my way to tell him, but you’re the one keeping me here.”
Dorothea huffs and turns to leave, but she turns her head and glares at him, “Go see him then, and tell me what comfort it brings you to see your husband in the state he’s in. Tell me that those thoughts you had of your poor, dear Ferdie are enough to comfort you from the fact that this is your fault.”
He stared at where she had stood for a minute before shaking his head and grabbing his things and heading to Ferdinand’s room.
Ignoring the pit in his stomach, he walks down the hallway and is surprised to see a light flickering from under Ferdinand’s door.
The pit deepens.
Breathing in deeply, he raised his hand and knocked on the door; the sound echoing in the quiet hall. He hears Ferdinand’s chair scrape across the floor and remembers the hundreds of other times this has happened.
The door opens.
Ferdinand stands in front of him, looking at the papers in his hand. There are bags under his eyes and his face is a sickly pallor, one that means he hasn’t been taking care of himself.
The pit turns into a chasm, its mouth opening farther and wider.
“Did you need some-” Ferdinand’s voice dies when his eyes drift up and see Hubert. The paper falls from his hand, slowly fluttering to the floor.
Ferdinand stares at him, his face stuck somewhere between disbelief and something broken, like he can’t decide what he’s feeling. Then shaking fingers rise and hover over his face. The trembling is so severe that Hubert would bet Ferdinand wouldn’t be able to hold anything right now.
“Hubie,” Ferdinand breathed. His fingers still shake around Hubert, not quite touching him but close enough to where he can feel fingertips ghost across his cheeks. Then it’s gone, they drop and Ferdinand is pulling at his long hair, twisting and twisting. Laughter bubbles out of his mouth, a bright and cheery juxtaposition to how manic his movements are. “I’ve lost it.”
The pit turns into a gaping hole in his stomach that threatens to swallow him whole. Dorothea’s words play back in his mind, ‘Go see him then, and tell me what comfort it brings you to see your husband in the state he’s in.’
Hubert doesn’t know what to do.
He knew that this would be hard, had fully expected it. He even had the audacity to think he was prepared for it, but hearing Ferdinand’s laughter gave way to sobs and watching him desperately tug at his hair is…
It’s something he wishes he never had to witness.
He reaches out and grabs Ferdinand’s wrists to stop the man from ripping his hair out. He freezes under Hubert’s hands and those beautiful amber eyes that he adores stare up at him between strands of frazzled hair.
“I’m alive.” He said. His usual words escape him, he has no idea what to say to make this any better, to make it any easier. “I am… I’m sorry.”
Ferdinand shakes his head, wild and unkempt hair moving with it, “No, you’re dead. You died months ago and now I’m hallucinating.” He moves to to grip his hair again but Hubert tightens his grip.
“Ferdinand, I never died, my death was faked so I could fight Those Who Slither in the Dark.”
In an instant, the confusion and terror on Ferdinand’s face morph and twist into something Hubert only ever sees from him on the battlefield, an outraged and focused look that can only come out in the heat of battle for someone like Ferdinand.
“You’re one of them.” Ferdinand tries to move his hands again, but Hubert refuses to let him go. “You’ve killed him and now you’re wearing his face!” He jerks again, movements uncoordinated and sloppy.
If Hubert had done this months ago, he would have had no hope of restraining him so easily.
“No!” Hubert increases his grip on Ferdinand. “It’s me, I swear.” He can’t blame Ferdinand for coming to that conclusion, Hubert had told him the abilities of Agarthans long ago. He would be happy that Ferdinand is suspicious if he wasn’t trying to comfort his husband. He scrambles to think of something that only he would know, something would could convince Ferdinand that it’s him. “Listen to me. You only let your hair grow out because you forgot to take care of yourself during the war campaign. I wear gloves because my hands are scarred from magic.”
“You- You-” The desperate hope that unfolds across Ferdinand’s face is as beautiful as it is devastating.
“Yes,” Hubert can’t help the sigh of relief. “It’s me.”
In retrospect, he should have seen the slap coming. His head jerks to the side and his cheek stings from the force of the smack. Then Ferdinand’s still shaking hands cup his face and drag him down for a kiss. Hubert drops his hands to Ferdinand’s waist and deepens the kiss. Ferdinand sobs into it and Hubert breaks the kiss, shaking his head when Ferdinand tries to move back in for more. He instead hugs the shorter man, bringing him into his arms and pressing his lips to the top of his head.
Ferdinand’s shoulders start shaking, and Hubert feels the front of his shirt grow wet from his tears. Thankfully the sounds are being muffled. Hubert doesn’t think he’s ready to face the full front of Ferdinand’s grief right now. He himself is shaken from how their encounter has gone.
It takes some time, but Ferdinand ends up sagging tiredly in Hubert’s arms, curling tighter into him and pushing his nose into the crook of his neck. It’s quiet now except for the occasional sniffle that's let out, but other than that, it’s just the two of them holding each other.
He can’t stop thinking about the look on Ferdinands face, the pure and utter devastation he saw, a stark contrast to how happy he normally is.
How happy he should have been if Hubert hadn’t done this.
Hubert had sworn that when this whole mess started that he would spend the rest of his life making it up to him, and he always makes good on his promises.
Ferdinand’s passed out against him, so he picked him up and carried him towards the bed, carefully cradling him.
“You better still be here when I wake up.” Ferdinand murmured into his chest. “I will be so fucking angry if you’re not in bed with me in the morning.”
“I promise.” Hubert replied. He doesn’t plan to leave Ferdinand’s side again if the Goddess herself were to show up and drag Hubert away from him.
---
He wakes up and there’s an arm around his waist.
Hubert is dead, his husband is dead and there’s someone’s arm around his waist.
Ferdinand jerked in the sheets before crashing onto the floor, there’s someone saying his name but it’s muddling with the heartbeat that’s pounding in his chest. It’s all too loud. He tried to focus and looked up to see-
Hubert.
Hubert.
And then he remembers the night before, when Hubert had revealed himself to still be alive, that all these past months he hadn’t been dead. He remembers crying and hitting Hubert before he had exhausted himself and fallen asleep.
“Sweetheart,” Hubert said, face impossibly sad and full of regret. Embarrassment rises in him like a horrible wave and he turns away and fists his hands in the sheets he dragged onto the floor with him. “I-”
“Don’t say anything.” Ferdinand cuts him off, screwing his eyes shut and trying to hold back the tears he knows will come. He hates how fucking emotional he gets, what a complete mess he’s been for the past few months. “Don’t. Please.”
Thankfully, Hubert doesn’t speak up again. There’s a creak from the bed and long arms are wrapping around him and a chin settling on his head. The tender motion only brings more tears to his eyes and his breathing picks up, harsh breaths that don’t carry nearly enough oxygen.
“Ferdinand, you have to breathe,” Hubert said. One of his scarred hands settles over Ferdinand’s chest. “You’re hyperventilating.”
“I know.” Ferdinand gritted out, trying to slow down his breathing “I- I know.”
It takes a good while for him to calm down, Hubert murmuring reassurances while he gets himself under control. When he could finally breathe again, he wiped angrily at the tears before long fingers wrapped around his wrists to stop his motions.
“You’ll hurt yourself doing that,” Hubert said carefully, letting go to cradle Ferdinand’s face and wipe away the tears. His blackened fingers are rough against Ferdinand’s irritated skin, but it’s a familiar rough that Ferdinand needs. He lets himself lean into it. “Are you… doing better?”
Hubert is hesitant, how he always is whenever he has to comfort someone. It’s painfully familiar, and it caused Ferdinand’s heart to ache.
“About as fine as I can be, I suppose.” He said, because how fine is someone supposed to be when they find out their lover who’s been dead for months is actually alive? “Which is to say I feel horrible.”
Golden eyes scanned over his face before he spoke again. “I think you should get back in bed.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He snapped. Then he felt horrible about losing his temper and shrinks further in on himself, clutching the sheets around his body. Hubert is right, he should get back in bed. He stands and collapses onto it, drawing the sheets even closer and curling into a ball.
It’s quiet for a good minute.
“May I join you?” That wonderfully low voice asked. “Please?”
Ferdinand contemplated not responding and being bitter because the Goddess knew he wanted to be angry. But what he wants the most is to be close with Hubert again, to forget that the past few months even happened, to pretend that they’ve both been happily together instead of Ferdinand flailing without Hubert.
There was only ever going to be one answer to Hubert’s question.
“Yes.”
The bed dips beneath him and Hubert’s slotting himself behind him like he’d never left, his arm a heavy weight on Ferdinand’s hip.
“I’m sorry.” Hubert says again. Ferdinand is sick of hearing apologies from everyone.
“Great.”
A hand slowly settles over one of his clenched ones, the touch reminiscent of how they acted at the beginning of their courtship, before they got married. It is a scared, unsure motion, afraid of Ferdinand’s rejection.
He can’t bear to lose Hubert.
Not again.
He’s always been one of Ferdinand’s weak spots, for better or for worse, so he made a decision and turned his hand to interlace their fingers together, black magic stained ones against his own. Hubert exhaled quietly into his hair before the surrounding arm tightened and he’s dragged back even closer to Hubert, the other man plastering himself to Ferdinand’s back.
“I promised myself that I would do everything in my power to make up for this transgression against you.” Hubert whispered into his hair, “Whatever you want from me I shall do. Anything.”
There is only one thing Ferdinand wants.
He wants to move past this whole thing happening. They’ll talk through it, he’ll learn what happened to Hubert in all the time he was gone, all the things he had to do. After that, Ferdinand knows his heart will be able to heal. They used to hate each other, and yet they still ended up in a happy marriage.
They will move past this.
“Stay with me.” He asked. “Never do something like this to me again, my heart cannot handle that, Hubert.”
“I plan to stay by your side for the rest of my life,” Hubert replied before pressing kisses to the back of his neck. “I will stick by you so much that you will grow sick from the mere sight of me. I will be as close to you as your heart is, darling.”
“Please.” Unable to stop himself, he lets go of Hubert’s hand and turns to face him. The look of pure devotion on Hubert’s face is one he hasn’t seen in so, so long. “That is all I have ever wanted from you.”
“I’ll give you that and so much more, Ferdie.” Hubert breathed out, the air fanning across Ferdinand’s face. “I would give you anything, do anything to make this up to you. Words cannot express how monstrous I am to have done this to you.”
Ferdinand could never quite grasp Hubert’s particular brand of self-deprecation, but he knows enough that whatever words he could muster up to sway Hubert to think otherwise right now would be detrimental to both of them. The wound between the two of them is still open and raw and bleeding all over the ground.
They will talk through it, communicate about how they both feel.
“If it makes you feel better.” Is what he decided to say, because in the end Hubert lives to serve those he loves, “But you know that I will always forgive you. This included.”
“I knew you would,” Hubert rests his forehead against his, “I knew you would and it agonized me. I knew you would find it in your heart to still love me after this and it was torture to do it.”
“My love is torture?” He asked.
“Darling,” Hubert smiled at him, a cautious, tentative thing. “It is the sweetest form of torture.”