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The battle had been maddeningly hard. Even Hubert was short of breath from the effort. It didn’t happen often now that he had become something of black magic conduit. Black magic was draining to the body and mind. Unlike white magic, which healed and buffed other’s abilities, black magic amplified and used the magic within for one’s own power.
When he was on the battlefield, with the rush and the roar, the death cries of horses and men alike, reverberations of steel against steel, he felt alive. The magic coursed through him like adrenaline. It fell from his fingers easy as water and at the same time, it stabbed like pins and needles in his flesh. It kept him afloat. It kept him breathing. But most importantly it gave him strength. Strength to use, in order to see Lady Edelgard's dreams realized.
Borrowed strength had its price however, and no amount of black magic could be used continuously without the same amount of recoil. Flying high on the battle-lust and magic, he felt none of it. But nearing the end, even when so much of it crackled around him he literally levitated above the ground, Hubert felt it. Really felt it.
Only a handful of units remained on the field and several of them had made their way directly to him. His muscles ached and his jaw was screwed tight. He’d taken more than his fair share of blows that day. But he’d never falter, not when Lady Edelgard depended on him so dearly.
He’d aimed one last virile concentration of Death Gamma at the oncoming battalion of pegasus knight, the spell hitting them and radiating outward in a wave of death till none of them stayed in flight.
Except for one.
That last spell really had been his last, and so he’d come down from the magic high, shaken, bewildered and worn, feet finally touching the ground. His battalion of magical engineers were just as exhausted as he. Many of them had begun to relax their stance, thinking the final foe defeated.
He’d not seen her until it was too late- a rushing blur of angry white came straight for him, and him alone.
He had no time to react. No time to make a move. He hadn’t even the energy to grab his rapier as the oncoming pegasus knight came for him, lance extended.
Forgive me, he thought. Your Majesty, I die so that. . . you may seize your destiny. He closed his eyes, exhausted, expecting the sharp new pain to tear into him-
Which never came.
Instead, he felt strong arms grab him against an armor covered chest and the hard living body of an animal below him. An animal with wings which lifted him high above the din of the battlefield into the open sky.
The noise of the animal’s wings was so close he felt it on his face. He felt nauseous. The black magic had kept him from feeling anything but strong. Now that it had all but drained from him, all he felt was tired and nauseous.
“That was much too close Hubert! You pushed yourself way too far this time.”
One arm tightened around his passenger, the other hopefully on the reins of his winged beast, Ferdinand von Aegir had swooped in to save Hubert from certain death. Hubert kept his eyes firmly shut, knowing if he opened them he’d likely see something he’d like even less than his oncoming death. The retreating ground. “My mages-”
“Not to worry. They made swift work of that pegasus knight. The battle is pretty well over now, Lady Edelgard and the professor are down there right now finishing up that monster. No problems.”
“Ah.”
Ferdinand hummed.
“How high are we right now?”
Ferdinand hummed again. Hubert tried to avoid thinking about the fact that the wind on his face was generated by the wings of beast capable of tearing him apart. Or dropping him. Oh-
"Well-"
“Nevermind,” He hissed. “Please. Don’t tell me.”
“Hold on a moment, I will take Camilla into a landing near the caravan. You definitely need healing. Maybe a cup of coffee?”
His stomach swirled as the beast (Camilla?) below them slowed it’s beating wings and very noticeably touched down. The very thought of ingesting anything made bile flavor his mouth.
“No,” he groaned and clutched onto the fabric of a shirt which smelled like sweat, metal and animal. “How pathetic am I,” he asked of the warm shirt. “Mewling like a scared child, having to be rescued from my own mistakes.”
“You are not pathetic Hubert.” Both arms encircled him. Hubert thought that maybe Ferdinand was embracing him in some kind of display of compassion. Startled, he opened his eyes to the painful light and vertigo to find that was not the case.
Ferdinand had picked him up in his arms as though he weighed nothing at all and dropped down effortlessly from the side of his wyvern with a clang. Hubert stared up into his open smiling face and bright hazel eyes.
“I thought that you were rather noble facing certain death all alone like that. Although-”
Ferdinand’s hair, usually so neat, silken and shining, had become whipped about his head in a halo of wind frenzied ginger.
“-too overworked. Sometimes, you seem so reluctant to rely on others. You have so many capable mages in your battalion-”
The wind had also whipped his cheeks as red as his hair, Hubert noticed. It was a becoming look for the usually well-groomed nobleman.
“It’s almost as though you do not trust anyone to have your back.”
Hubert snapped back to attention at that comment so fast his vertigo made his vision spin. Ferdinand’s face was swaying slightly when he made eye contact.
“Not true. I trust Lady Edelgard." Ferdinand Groaned. Hubert ignored him. "And I trust you Ferdinand.”
“You do?” Ferdinand brightened even more at that, if at all possible. His smile was so wide it filled Hubert’s tilting vision.
“I do. Now if you don’t put me down somewhere I may pass out. Or worse.”
He said nothing else- the idiotic smile said it all-and sat Hubert down on the back of a caravan where one of Manuela’s bishops came out to cast a diagnostic spell on him. Ferdinand made to leave, but Hubert grabbed at his sleeve.
“One thing Ferdinand."
Ferdinand looked at him expectantly. Still smiling, he blinked as Hubert reached into an inner pocket and produced a silk ribbon.
“I keep spare. . . For Lady Edelgard of course.” Ferdinand said nothing as Hubert trailed off, feeling rather stupid for having bothered at all.
“For your hair," He continued, despite himself. "It’s a shame- I mean. . . It would be prudent to put it up when you fly.”
Ferdinand took the ribbon, finally, and quickly arranged his hair into a tight, messy queue.
“How does it look?” He asked. It was really untidy. Not the best. Hubert could do better, drained as he was. But, he supposed it pulled the hair from the bright smiling face all the same.
Embarrassed, Hubert managed a nod. “Acceptable. Certainly it won’t whip your next passenger in the face now.”
“I will remember to tie it up the next time I take you flying.”
Ferdinand just grinned at him and jumped back on his wyvern. He gave Hubert one last brilliant look before the beast propelled them both into the sky on scaly wings. He felt so weary watching them recede into the sky, his stomach still roiling as he watched the wyvern ascend higher and higher. Where did Ferdinand get all his energy from?
The bishop got his attention.
“You’re going to need time to recover after all those spells. You really drained yourself today sir,” she said.
“Hm.”
“You can’t use so much black magic in such a short amount of time. Your body will feel the effects like caffeine jitters. But worse. Um. Sir.”
“Of course.”
He wanted so badly to give into sleep then. He leaned back down onto the wooden caravan and let the bishop run her spells. Ferdinand’s smiling face demanded his attention as he closed his eyes.
Sometimes he wished he had the courage to fly on the back of a wyvern like that. Free and easy, no black magic needed to hold him aloft. Only the trust and strength of a powerful beast keeping him from falling to the ground. Other times, he cursed himself for his childish daydreams.
Today, he passed out in the back of the caravan obsessed only by the fascinating concept of a next time.