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Ferdinand had planned everything out with aplomb, and fate thankfully followed suit. The snow of the Ethereal Moon dressed Enbarr in a white gown of fine silk on just the right day, and the colored lights of the capital glittered brighter than the stars. This holiday always felt like such a dream, and he wanted Hubert to have the same warm associations. Hence, his invitation, written in a messy cursive scrawl that screamed of Ferdinand’s true anxiety.
But all of his plans, and everything lovingly falling into place, well - that didn’t matter right now, because Ferdinand von Aegir was embarrassingly mindless enough to have dropped his gift in the snow.
It occurred to him as his chilly hands were stuffed into his coat pockets, his fingers finding nothing but the lining inside them. Ah, he assured himself, wrong pocket, which served as three seconds of comfort before he reached into the pocket of his trousers and once again, found nothing.
His eyes darted about their meeting place, hoping for a tiny speck of metal to catch a moonbeam and save him from this horrible panicked misery. Alas, no such luck - nothing but blinding mounds of white stared back, and the panic continued to spread across his nerves until he felt himself on fire.
That gift was one-of-a-kind, after all, its design crafted by the finest artisans with the finest materials in the Adrestian Empire at his behest. He could always have another made, but this pause in time couldn’t be rewound or recreated, and Ferdinand would not - simply could never - accept having ruined it by being an incorrigible klutz.
With a shuddering breath, Ferdinand scanned his pockets one more time, grabbing the fabric within and inverting them. Nothing, nothing but the silken lining, cruelly taunting his folly.
The fire reached his lungs and heart, the burn keeping his breathing erratic and his emotions unfettered. Then, the alarms within his mind finally rang out and his body dove forward, knees sinking into the snow as his bare hands clawed holes into the perfect icy landscape.
“No, no, it simply must be around here, it was just with me!” Most of the babble was part of a vain desire that the words might will it into existence. His hands dug deeper and deeper holes into the snow; his skin turned pink and swollen while quietly knowing that there was no way a ring that had just been in his possession was buried by day and nights of wintry weather.
“Please, let it be here somewhere, it has to be…” He knew the words were untrue. As his hands were growing too stiff to continue his frantic pawing, Ferdinand knew he had to accept that it was not here to be found. He considered retracing his steps, but there was so much distance between the palace and their dimly-lit, intimate spot just beyond the city gates that it could be lifetimes before he held it within his grasp again.
But even as Ferdinand’s thoughts ran in circles, the hands of time continued to mercilessly move. From the bell tower in the center of the capital, the sounds marking his singular moment passing him by began to chime. It was the same sound that woke him each morning to the same visage of the same enchanting man, always framed by mussed raven hair and the slightest wrinkles forged by stress and hardship.
It was such a beautiful sound, but now so melancholy, and every ringing that followed made Ferdinand feel more and more unworthy for the moment he’d elaborately prepared - the moment that was supposed to change both his and Hubert’s lives.
The self-rage fed into the fire inside Ferdinand, until it was washed out entirely and the fight to save what he’d messed up through his carelessness started to fade. He felt tears form, and it occurred to him that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d honestly cried. His life as the prime minister at Hubert’s side fulfilled him so much that he had no need for sadness … That was, perhaps, why this hurt so much.
He only wanted perfection for Hubert. He wanted Hubert to undeniably feel the way he did; he wanted his love to make the holidays like their personal wrinkle in time that only the two of them could share.
The now-freezing pricks rapidly began to hurt his eyes, and so he let them flow, his body folded pathetically in a mound of snow and ice.
“Ferdinand, you absolute blunder… This is so humiliating,” he murmured beneath his breath.
“Humiliating? My dearest, I was already aware you had a penchant for playing in the snow.”
His neck snapped up harshly, his gasp punctuated by the puff of fog that fell from his lips. It was Hubert, part of his face obscured beneath a heavy scarf, in his long, black coat that made him one with the shadows. Those eyes peered down at him in his pathetic state, but he knew that Hubert did not look down on him. They were eyes filled with concern, despite the wry humor.
“Is something the matter? This was when you wanted to meet here, is it not?”
“Hubert…”
The Imperial Minister was not the most emotive man, but he could read Ferdinand’s like any other. When the dim lights caught his beloved’s face, he saw the puffiness around his eyes, and the harsh redness of his cheeks and hands. With only a moment of assessment, he knelt down to Ferdinand’s level, a gloved hand lifting the other’s chin gently.
“What’s happened here, Ferdinand? Has someone hurt you?”
Ferdinand felt much like he did as a child, being comforted by Hubert - shy, and a bit of a crybaby. He secretly wondered if it was possible to be horribly embarrassed and entirely at ease all at once, with his supposed answer being that it was, only with Hubert von Vestra.
“... No. No one other than my own gross negligence.” With his head settled in Hubert’s palm, much warmer than his own skin in this cold, he nestled there, a lost puppy embraced by a loving fireplace.
“I’m certain it’s not as bad as you believe it to be. Tell me what’s upset you.” The timbre of his voice was, to Ferdinand, so smooth and sincere that he’d believe any word he was told. His lungs felt lighter, as if free of the smoke and haze, and with a pitiful hiccup and a quick swipe at his eyes with the back of his wrist, he looked up into Hubert’s eyes. The other man placed his hands underneath Ferdinand’s elbows, rising to his feet and bringing Ferdinand along.
“Hubert, I… I wanted this to be perfect. I wanted this view to be perfect, this setting, this very time and place - I wanted the stars to align, and they did, but I still found a way to ruin it. I…” The admittance in the back of his throat felt positively acidic. “... I… wanted to… propose to you, Hubert. I wanted to make this a holiday you’d never forget, something that you and I could both dream about for the rest of our lives and wake up to it being a most precious reality. But, the ring, I’ve lost it somehow, and I can’t find it, and I - and I ruined -”
With a sweep of his finger, Hubert silenced the frazzled prime minister, his touch and gaze each like lavender and honey to Ferdinand. Hubert only observed for a while - every flicker of hope and pain in his beloved’s eyes, every nervous twitch of his features, every instance where he looked away in shame - was noticed.
Finally, with a short exhale, Hubert moved his fingers from Ferdinand’s lips and reached into the pocket of his coat.
“... I’m fully aware that you always have a particular vision for everything. I find it the most admirable thing about you. You create that vision solely within your imagination, but you always put in such work to make it a reality that I am helplessly endeared by it. You really make me believe in those visions of yours.” Hubert turned his head to look up and over the gates, a rainbow of colors flashing across the cityscape. “But I don’t need any elaborate event to remember a moment like that for the rest of my days.”
Hubert turned his head back to Ferdinand, wearing one of his rare smiles. “Even so, I know how you cherish things like this. I’m… sorry, that things haven’t gone as you planned.”
With a breezy movement, Hubert removed his hand from his pocket, his fingers clutched around an object. He extended his hand, and, meeting Ferdinand’s eyes, those fingers unfurled.
Settled in his palm was a small box, swathed in a velveteen fabric.
Before Ferdinand could process a thing, said box was being pressed into his own palm, with Hubert lovingly folding his own fingers over it.
“I’m certain this ring does not fit your perfect vision, but I hope it will suffice. It… was meant to be for you, but I don’t wish to impede on your moment.”
Ferdinand felt his knees wobble, and he worried they might give out as he stared down at the foreign object in his hands.
Hubert had known all along, and had even come prepared with his own surprise. His beloved truly knew him well, beyond any doubt.
He’d cry, but he’d gotten rid of all of his tears over something that no longer mattered to him. Damn that ring, he’d get another - this moment they held onto now was better than even his imagination could dream.
Arms shaking as he moved, Ferdinand flipped open the box, admiring the golden sheen of the band that stared back at him. It certainly was not the ring that he had made, no - it was something far greater.
With unbridled love brimming in his eyes, Ferdinand gingerly removed the ring from the box and took Hubert’s hand, sliding it into place upon Hubert’s finger.
Hubert chuckled. “What, don’t you plan to ask me first?”
Ferdinand, with his smile audible in his voice, replied, “I’d hope you didn’t come bearing a ring with the intention of refusing to give it to me.”
His eyes shuttering, Hubert smirked. “I can’t argue with that.” The hand of his that now bore their eternal symbol of adoration caressed Ferdinand’s cheek. “This ring is yours, but I hope getting to place this one on me was a suitable enough replacement.”
Ferdinand mirrored the movement, moving his hand to Hubert’s face, rubbing a gentle thumb along his cheekbone. “It was more than that. I’ll dream about this forever.”
“Forever it is, then,” Hubert agreed to an unspoken promise, leaning in to seal Ferdinand’s perfect moment with the perfect ending.