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The first time it happened they promised that it wouldn’t ever happen again.
It was hardly accidental, as much as Hubert wished he could insist it was. He would have been lying. When he’d gone to Ferdinand’s room late that night with their next battle looming like a rolling fog on the horizon, he’d done so with intent. Stubborn, reckless, infuriating intent.
He could still feel it, Ferdinand’s lips against his neck, burning like fire. Those hands calloused from holding reins and lances and yet so gentle against his wrists, his ribs, his thighs. He could still taste the lingering notes of tea and cinnamon.
Hubert’s legs were still unsteady from the orgasm Ferdinand had coaxed out of him – dragged, really – just minutes before, but he was already hauling himself out of bed and reaching for his clothes. “This cannot happen again.”
Hubert let his shoulders slump, moonlight reflecting off his face as he turned to spare him a glance. Ferdinand’s eyes were fixed on the back of his head, their owner leaning back against the headboard with his shirt unbuttoned and the sheets haphazardly strewn over his lap. “I had a feeling you may say that,” Ferdinand sighed. “And you…may be right.”
“There’s a war on, Ferdinand.”
“You say that as if I could forget.”
Ferdinand’s hand wandered up along Hubert’s spine, fingers nudging like a spider’s legs over his skin. Hubert shivered. “You’re not making this any easier,” he forced, sighing as he resisted the urge to lean into that touch.
“Would you prefer I make it easy?” Ferdinand countered. “Get out of my bed, Hubert – leave my room this instant before I make you.”
Oh, now he certainly wasn’t making it easy. Hubert couldn’t help but chuckle, in spite of himself, at the lack of venom in Ferdinand's voice. “Keeping talking like that, and I’ll surely never leave.”
Ferdinand blinked. “What do you-“
“I expect you to be punctual as always to the war council meeting in the morning,” Hubert said, standing to finish buttoning his shirt instead of risking letting those damn wandering fingers tempt him back under the covers. He lamented the fact that it was even a possibility. “Your insight into how we should re-shuffle the supply lines since the last battle should prove useful.”
“Ah…of course…”
Now all Hubert had to manage was figuring out how best to cover the marks on his neck.
Having Ferdinand in that meeting was a mistake of epic proportions. Perhaps a worse one than falling into bed with him the night before. At least at night, by the light of just the moon and the candles nearly spent on Ferdinand’s desk, Hubert could pry his eyes away easily enough. But here, sun was streaming through the windows, gleaming in his fiery eyes and playing off the waves of his hair.
And it didn’t help, being the only one in the room – well, one of two people – who knew of the marks on Ferdinand’s skin, lurking just under his collar. Marks that Hubert had put there himself. He hadn’t managed to get a good look at them the night before, but he would have given almost anything to see them now.
Hell below, what had he been reduced to?
“Hubert-“ The emperor’s voice shook him out of that despicable daydream of sucking more marks into Ferdinand’s muscular thighs. Not a moment too soon. “What do you think? Does the plan seem sound to you?”
Void have mercy, he would gladly offer his head up for the executioner rather than admit to her why he didn’t have the slightest clue what his answer should be. As he tried and failed to come up with an answer that didn’t sound utterly ridiculous, he caught Ferdinand’s eye, just for a moment, and he swore he saw a note of understanding in his gaze.
Understanding, followed by a blush that looked hot enough to put the sun to shame.
“Actually, I do not think I argued my case as clearly as I would have liked,” he said a moment later. “Before we make a decision, I think I should go over the advantages and possible risks in more detail.”
Edelgard rose a brow. “I think you argued your point more than adequately. I agree with you, Ferdinand. There’s no need to further convince me. I’d simply like to get Hubert’s opinion on the matter before moving forward.”
“As it happens, I’m not quite convinced myself,” Hubert said, and her majesty looked downright surprised. “Our supply lines have been compromised more than once – considering the advantages versus drawbacks of our decision should be done with care.”
“You are not wrong,” she admitted, though she didn’t sound quite convinced. “Very well, Ferdinand…give us whatever insight on the matter you still think is necessary.”
Ferdinand held Hubert’s gaze for just a moment longer than he needed to – long enough for Hubert to plot the perfect escape route from this meeting room to take the moment their business was concluded.
Damn him, he thought. Damn him and thank the blasted saints for him.
It happened again, and Hubert was starting to think that it had been meaningless to try and pretend it wouldn’t.
This time, he lingered. A mistake, and he knew it. But he couldn’t quite resist. The gaping maw of this war was cold and bloody, and Ferdinand was so tantalizingly warm. In more ways than one.
Ferdinand’s lips pressed against the back of Hubert’s shoulder, dropping a soft kiss there that was far too tender, too gentle to have any business falling on Hubert’s skin. “Are you planning on making your escape quickly tonight too?” he asked, a note of playfulness in his voice masking something else. Something almost pained.
Hubert pretended he didn’t notice it. “Are you planning on asking me to spend the night?”
“I would not object to that,” Ferdinand said, fingers dragging up over Hubert’s bare ribs. The touch made Hubert shiver, Ferdinand’s fingers feeling like fire against his icy skin. Like Ferdinand could melt right through him.
“You know why I can’t.”
“No, I do not.” Ferdinand pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, sheets draped dangerously low on his hips. “This is the second time you have shared my bed with me. Surely there must have been something that drew you here.”
“Would you believe me if I said you made for a good outlet for stress?”
“Even if I did think you capable of doing such things so flippantly, I would not believe that was your motivation.” He sighed. “Hubert…”
Why did he have to say his name like that? So reverently. Hubert was more used to it being hissed in disgust or screamed in terror.
“You have said yourself many times…we are at war. Death looms around every corner. Would it not be…reasonable to take a bit of happiness where we could find it?”
Hubert’s heart lurched in his chest as he forced himself out from under the covers. “Whatever happiness you think you can get from me,” he said, “You would be much better suited to find elsewhere.”
There was a bouquet of flowers sitting on Hubert’s desk two days later, resting in the sun like they belonged there. Practically taunting him as he stared at them from the doorway.
Some odd prank, he wondered? A creative assassination attempt? A gift meant for someone else? He squinted as he leaned in to inspect them. Pink camellias and daffodils, and a single magnolia blossom nestled against an orange rose sitting at the center. Far too colorful for his liking – all rosy and yellow like the color of the sun setting on the horizon. It reminded him a bit of-
Straightening his shoulders again, Hubert groaned.
“Flowers?” came a voice from behind him, and he turned on his heel to find Lady Edelgard standing in the doorway with an enigmatic little smile on her face. She muffled a laugh against her palm. “My, Hubert, do you have an admirer?”
“Hardly,” he said through gritted teeth. “I suspect they were meant for somebody else.”
“Surely you can’t be that naïve,” Edelgard scoffed, and she stepped up beside him to study the flowers herself, brow knitting. “An orange rose…quite rare here in this area of Fódlan. I’ve seen a few of the merchants carrying them before, but they aren’t easy to come by.”
“Seems awfully like a waste of resources to me, to put it bluntly.” Hubert sighed, wondering just what in the world he was meant to do with the bouquet. Display it in his chambers? Pin the rose to his lapel? The more he thought about it the more ridiculous the whole thing seemed.
But Edelgard was still smiling. “My knowledge of these things is awfully rusty, I’ll admit, but…pink camellias signify longing and admiration, do they not?” She glanced at him, a gleam in her eye. “And the magnolia has long been a symbol of nobility.”
Curse the flush he felt spreading across his cheeks. “This is hardly the time to be lingering on such trivialities when the front lines are constantly in flux and our supply lines are ever in danger of being compromised.” He took the bouquet in hand – why, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps to drop it off the bridge outside the cathedral? And yet that felt almost childish.
“Hubert.” Her Majesty’s voice tone was serious now, enough to make him pause, and she sighed. “My old friend…look at me, please.”
He did, if only because he could not in good conscience deny her such a simple request. He felt like a fool, standing here with a bouquet in hand like a hopeful suitor, a flash of pink and yellow and orange set against his dark cloak like a stained glass window on an old church.
Edelgard sighed. “You have always been so intent on denying yourself the simplest pleasures,” she said. “I have always been able to count on your unwavering determination and support, but at the same time…there is a part of me that wishes you would allow yourself a moment of weakness now and again.”
“To do so would surely be reckless in the middle of this war.”
“Rationally, I know you’re right.” She frowned, bringing a hand up to her chin and pressing her thumb against her bottom lip. A gesture she so often favored when searching for the right words. “But lately I’ve begun to wonder…is it also reckless to be so single-minded when death is always lurking so close at hand? There is something to be said for being willing to sacrifice one’s life for a cause. I certainly am, as I know you and the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force is as well. And yet…the ability to find something precious in the middle of so much death…I don’t think that reckless at all.”
Hubert blinked at her, trying and failing to find the right words himself. The flowers in his hand felt heavy, like lead.
Edelgard shook her head. “Far be it from me to pry into your personal matters, but if there is anyone loyal to this cause who deserves to find some light in the middle of this persistent night, I believe it’s you.”
Hubert couldn’t help but scoff at that, laughing bitterly under his breath. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, I hardly think I deserve such a thing at all.”
“Hubert-“
“If we survive this war, then perhaps I…no…I do not intend to be distracted by such things now.” He stared down at the stone beneath his feet, the bright colors of the flowers’ petals still edging into the corner of his vision. As he struggled to find his voice again, to request to take his leave, a hand curled around his wrist.
He looked up and met Edelgard’s eye as her thumb brushed his knuckles. “I’ve just realized something,” she said. “There are daffodils in this bouquet…a symbol of unrequited love.”
Hubert swallowed.
“Not quite fitting, is it?” she continued, that smile of hers back again. Warmer and more open this time. “I’ve known you quite a long time, Hubert. Almost my entire life. Certainly you’ve never been much of an open book, but it bothered me when I suddenly couldn’t read you as well as I have in the past. But I’ve realized now that the reason I couldn’t is because I’ve never seen you like this before. It’s as new for me as I suspect it is for you.” Her other hand closed around his too, squeezing tightly. “It isn’t unrequited at all, is it? Hubert, my dear old friend, you really are in love, are you not?”
Now, more than before, he wanted more than anything to toss those damn flowers into the river and be done with it. But as painful as it was to admit, he knew it would do absolutely nothing to solve this problem of his.
By the time it happened a third time, Hubert had all but given up trying to prevent it.
It was deceptively easy to fall back into bed together, to shut out everything else and stop thinking in terms of liability and risk for just a few minutes and let Ferdinand strip him down, press him against the sheets and touch him until he couldn’t speak anymore. It was too easy to give into temptation, and easier still to get far too comfortable lying with his head resting on Ferdinand’s firm chest as their breathing slowed.
He let his fingers skim through Ferdinand’s hair before he even realized it, toying with the soft locks until Ferdinand’s eyes slid shut with a contented hum.
“You left flowers on my desk,” Hubert murmured as he stared at the wall.
Ferdinand stiffened, only slightly, but didn’t deny it. “I didn’t leave my name.”
“Really Ferdie, did you honestly think I wouldn’t realize it was you?” He scoffed. “An orange rose sitting alongside a single magnolia…it was practically a signature.” He glanced up at Ferdinand to find a flush spread across his cheeks. “Where did you even find an orange rose?”
“A merchant in town,” he sighed. “I assume you plan on chiding me for wasting time on something so trivial before you take your leave, now that you’re done with me for the night.”
There was something sharp hiding in those words, a blade hidden the fragrant bouquet. It made a knot twist tight in Hubert’s chest, pushing him to sit up until a beam of moonlight fell over his face. “Done with you?” he breathed. “What in hell’s name do you mean by that?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. You have made yourself very clear, Hubert.” He sighed. “Do not misunderstand me, I sent those flowers to send you a message of my own. Even if you have made your intentions – or lack thereof – perfectly clear, I felt I owed it to you to do the same for my own. Despite knowing very well that they would be shot down.”
Hubert stared at him, mouth open, sweat cooling on his skin. The moonlight didn’t suit Ferdinand like the sun did – it tinted his skin blue and made him look dull and listless, compounded by the heaviness weighing down his expression.
“Shot…down…” he mused.
“Perhaps I have been selfish…” Ferdinand said, shoulders slumping. “Indulging in this…this…these nights with you. But I suppose that in the midst of this war I have considered them a precious reprieve.”
Magnolia for nobility, camellias for longing, daffodils for unrequited love. Thinking about it again, Hubert couldn’t help but smile. “How very like you,” he said. “Sending me vibrant flowers to make your feelings clear despite being so certain nothing would come of it. You’re predictable, Ferdie.”
“Predictable-“
“And yet still, you made a mistake. Not by sending the flowers, mind you – though the colors are hardly to my liking.” Hubert stared down at the sheets, fingers curling against the fabric. “You chose daffodils of all things.”
“And that was…a mistake?”
“A mistake in that it was inaccurate. Unrequited love…that was their meaning, yes?”
Ferdinand swallowed. “Yes…I suppose so.”
“Do you truly think that my leaving every night we’ve been together is because your feelings are unrequited?”
Now it was Ferdinand’s turn to stare at him, speechless. For a moment Hubert regretted it – perhaps damn afterglow making his tongue too loose, making him reckless. But even still, he couldn’t retreat now.
He tried and failed to meet Ferdinand’s eye. “I never meant to…to let it get this far, you know,” he finally said. “It was a mistake. A reckless, selfish mistake. One that I couldn’t afford to make at a time like this. This war demands much from all of us, and I have devoted so much of myself to the cause that I suspect I don’t have much left to give anyone else.”
And yet…
And yet, and yet, and yet…
He turned the words over in his head over and over, trying to find a way to follow them with something that didn’t sound utterly ludicrous. But Ferdinand took that burden away from him, sitting up and straddling his thighs, staring down at him with determination blazing in his eyes. “Let me court you then,” he implored. “Formally. Properly. If we could die at any time, I do not wish to do so leaving things unsaid. That is why…that is why I sent you those flowers in the first place.”
“Court me…” Hubert breathed. “You can’t be-“
“I am perfectly serious.” He leaned closer, Hubert’s hands folded in his own. “Hubert…please. Our next battle could be our last, and if that is the case I do not want to waste a single moment.”
His hands…so hot against Hubert’s skin. Eyes burning like fire. Despite the cool moonlight cast across his face, Ferdinand shone like the damn sun.
“Do you still wish to leave?” Ferdinand whispered, thumb stroking against Huberts knuckles like a hopeful little addendum to his question.
“I’ll have to eventually,” Hubert answered him with a rueful little smile. “To attend to my duties. But…not for some time yet.”
He stayed until daybreak, only slipping out when the moon had already set and the sunrise started to stain the horizon pink like those blasted camellias that Ferdinand had left on his desk. He slipped out while Ferdinand slept and dressed in the dim light of early morning, casting one last glance back at him before shutting the door.
A light in the midst of this persistent night, indeed.
He brewed a sweet cup of tea in the quiet kitchen, carried it carefully to Ferdinand’s room, and left it – steaming and fragrant – on his bedside table. As he leaned down to press a kiss to Ferdinand’s temple (a self-indulgent gesture, he knew), he felt him stir under his touch.
“Did you know that daffodils have more than one meaning?” Ferdinand muttered into his pillow, sounding as if he were simply talking in his sleep. If it weren’t for his fingers closing around Hubert’s wrist, he would have thought he were doing just that and nothing more.
“Do they?” Hubert replied, lifting one eyebrow.
“The sun shines when I’m with you.” Ferdinand muffled a yawn against his own arm. “It isn’t what I had in mind when I sent them, but it is fitting enough.”
Flowers…Hubert would never be able to wrap his mind around peoples’ fascination with such things. Especially when they started talking about meanings like that.
The sun shining thanks to him of all people. It seemed so ridiculous that he couldn’t help but smile at it.
“Don’t let your tea go cold, Ferdie,” was all he said, and he got a quiet hum in response as he pulled his hand back, letting it linger as his fingers brushed Ferdinand’s wrist.
When he got to his office again, he found the flowers still there on his desk, carefully arranged in a vase of water emblazoned with the royal coat of arms. Fair enough, he thought as he moved them to the window sill. They did manage to brighten up the room quite a bit.