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Ferdinand is laughing too loudly which means he’s not as at ease as he’s pretending to be. Hubert can hear the sound clear across the palace ballroom and it’s making his ears itch. Of course even Ferdinand’s nervous tics are loud. Of course.
Hubert lurks, close enough to be at Lady Edelgard’s side in a moment if required. But she is holding her own with the assorted nobles, civil servants and journalists hounding her. If anyone addresses Hubert, it’s for politeness’ sake. Inquiries into his health are met with the same bland answer. Anything else he evades. Otherwise, he waits and searches for daggers hidden in shadows. It’s his job to be paranoid and he takes pride in being good at it.
Hubert had dealt with anyone who had the power to move against them politically but that didn’t mean they were safe. He had already thwarted several assassinations and coup attempts borne of festering resentment. Enemies were everywhere. Maybe even in Enbarr Palace on New Year's Eve.
Ferdinand laughs again, the noise rising above the party’s easy murmur.
This had all been Ferdinand’s idea. They had argued about it for weeks before the festive period.
Ferdinand was bad at sitting still in meetings. He was always standing, pacing, making emphatic gestures. Thrusting a finger at maps and holding Hubert accountable for anything he thought foolish or a waste of resources. More than once, Hubert had provoked Ferdinand just to feel the full force of his attention.
Ferdinand leaned in, pretty eyes blazing, his voice a far more effective weapon than any lance.
“For a war, you need armies. Armies are made of people. We need to show the people why they should fight at our side.”
“You are correct. Holding the traditional new year's gathering at the palace will give us a chance to foster good will among our countrymen,” said Lady Edelgard. “The more we discuss it, the more I agree. We will do it.”
...Though as soon as Ferdinand began to win an argument, Hubert began to like his ability for it a lot less.
“Your Majesty, I must object. Having all and sundry invited here is surely a risk to your personal safety.”
“We have the palace guard, plus me and you,” Ferdinand argued.
“I have no interest in gaining a knife to my lady’s back! We do not have time to spare on sycophants!”
“Sycophants who supply our armies and write about us in the press. What do you want the headlines on New Year’s Day to be, Hubert? ‘Adrestian Empire heads for uncertain future’?”
Lady Edelgard held a hand up to silence them.
“Ferdinand, make the arrangements. Hubert, as you are so concerned you will take charge of security.”
To his credit, Ferdinand has not been as ridiculous as Hubert expected. There is no extravagant feast or crates of champagne. This emphasises the real draw of the invitation - the presence of the emperor. The one extravagance is the band, because no one wants a party without music or dancing. There is also wine and nibbles, to get the conversation flowing.
It is a clever arrangement. Ferdinand has done a good job. Hubert can admit it to himself, even if he won’t to anyone else.
Lady Edelgard returns to Hubert's side. The time Hubert spent studying power dressing paid off handsomely - her wine red corset has enough straps and studs to suggest armour over fashion, particularly round the shoulders. She looks like both the lady he always knew and an Adrestian emperor.
“Your Majesty?”
“I can hear Ferdinand,” she says.
“Everyone can hear Ferdinand, Your Majesty.”
“At least he’s enjoying himself. I doubt his trip back to the Aegir territories offered much in the way of welcome.”
“I am sure he is fine,” lies Hubert. He remembers the last time he saw Ferdinand before he left for Aegir. He had been pacing the stables, hair sticking up every which way. “Hello Mother,” he had said to his horse. “I trust you are well?” Hubert had stayed and listened as Ferdinand practiced what he would say to his family. For intelligence reasons, in case Ferdinand let slip anything valuable. But if Ferdinand was planning on masterminding a plan to grasp back his once treasured title, he hadn’t shared it with his horse.
Lady Edelgard nods. “I never thought I would miss him chasing me down, but it has been quiet without him here."
"Peaceful," Hubert agrees.
"I know you missed him too. Even if you will never admit it."
"..."
"Come. We will welcome him back."
xXx
Ferdinand is speaking with Baron Becker who used to ally closely with the shamed Duke von Aegir. He isn’t a threat to Edelgard, merely a minor noble with a small territory bordering the Aegir lands. Becker leans over and pats Ferdinand’s shoulder in a fatherly sort of way. Ferdinand laughs, the sound so rich and pure that surely only Hubert knows the lie in it.
Becker must think there is something Ferdinand can be used for, even though he has no title, power or estate to inherit. In anyone else, Hubert would see this conversation as the start of a potential betrayal. But not Ferdinand. He had taken an oath to serve Lady Edelgard. And even at Garreg Mach, Ferdinand had always kept his promises. It was a quality Hubert admired very much, though he of course kept this to himself.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Lady Edelgard says, ice cool. Close up, Ferdinand looks like he needs to sleep for a week. He must not have rested after his journey back from Aegir.
“Your Majesty. Marquis von Vestra,” says Baron Becker.
They bow.
Ferdinand’s hair is tucked neatly away behind his ears, the tips brushing his shoulders. His ruby waistcoat has a shine to it that indicates velvet, because even if he is no longer a spoilt noble he still dresses like one.
“How lovely you look, Your Majesty,” says the baron. “Just stunning.”
“I do apologise for interrupting your discussion with General Aegir,” says Lady Edelgard.
“Not at all, Your Majesty. I was just reminiscing, like a silly old fool. Ferdinand used to see to our hunting horses after the duke and I went out, you see.”
“When I was very young,” says Ferdinand. His voice lacks its usual boom but he’s trying very hard. Hubert glances at Lady Edelgard, wondering if she’s noticed the cracks.
“Ah, yes. You were most upset when you found out we were fox hunting. Enough to kick your father in the shins, as I recall.”
Ferdinand’s eyes are furious. “From then on, I always said my first order as duke would be to ban hunting for the sport of it.”
“A shame that will never be, is it not Your Majesty?” says Becker, teeth bared in a smile.
Ferdinand sucks in his breath. He has taken the conversation somewhere none of them want to go.
“One should never say never,” says Lady Edelgard. “We can add it to the agenda. Can’t we Hubert?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he says, though he has no plans whatsoever to waste valuable time discussing the foxes of Aegir. One Aegir stray is quite enough.
“I am sure my red-haired cousins would thank you,” says Ferdinand and Lady Edelgard smiles at him.
Becker grins too. “To think, such a gentle heart rides to war!”
“My heart is not gentle! My heart is just.”
Ferdinand’s posture has turned aggressive, fists clenched, frustration and fury uncovered. It is how he looks on the battlefield. But such passionate words at a political event designed for coy game-playing? Hubert bites his cheek to stop himself from smiling into the silence. Ferdinand reddens.
“Excuse me,” he mutters. “I did not mean to speak so harshly. If Your Majesty will permit it, I think I will go and get some air.”
As soon as he’s gone, Lady Edelgard raises an eyebrow at Hubert.
“Go,” she says. “I wish to hear more stories from Baron Becker about Ferdinand kicking his father.”
If they weren’t in public, Hubert would argue. But Baron Becker eyes his lady hungrily, pleased to have caught her ear. A quick glance around shows that there are three guards within the immediate vicinity. Hubert decides he will trust his meticulous security arrangements. Ferdinand doesn't just get to skip out on the occasion he forced on the rest of them.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
XxX
Ferdinand has several bolt holes in the palace, all of which Hubert knows about. He finds Ferdinand in the kitchen, watching the staff prepare hors d’oeuvres. He is perched on a footstool which makes him comically short. Hubert sighs and looks for another so they can sit at the same level. The staff pay them little mind, busy as they are going in and out with plates of food and wine. They are adapting to the eccentricities of the new Adrestian government.
Even when Ferdinand is troubled, he likes to be around people. This is because he doesn’t spend inordinate amounts of time worrying about breaches of security. Lucky him.
“Come to give me a dressing down for speaking out of turn?” he asks Hubert as he pulls up his seat.
“Lady Edelgard ordered me to check on you.”
“Tell her I do not plan on composing a list of laws I hoped to make as duke, so she needn’t worry.”
Hubert rolls his eyes. “Stop being childish.”
“I am treated like a child regardless, so I do not see why I should.”
Hubert senses the need to tread carefully.
“I take it you did not enjoy your holiday.”
Ferdinand stiffens and looks away. “My mother said I was like a scruffy dog begging for scraps.”
Hubert swallows. “I see.”
Ferdinand laughs his fake laugh again. “Perhaps I should have my hair seen to.”
Hubert gives Ferdinand’s hair another once over. So different from Lady Edelgard’s. Hers is straight, sleek and very well behaved. Ferdinand has thick waves that frizz past his shoulders. Now that Hubert’s looking, it’s difficult not to reach out and correct its haphazardness into some kind of order.
“Do you have any talent as a barber, Hubert? Maybe you could cut it.”
Hubert snorts. While he is flattered Ferdinand would let him near his head while wielding twin blades, it is not a good idea. Hubert has noticed Ferdinand has nice hair and doesn't want to be put in a position where he is forced to remark on it.
"If you wanted to fish for compliments, best to find somebody else."
"I suppose even I can admit that I do not hold a candle to Her Majesty this night…"
For a moment, Hubert wonders if Ferdinand has an ulterior motive, just like anyone else who speaks with him. Maybe he just wants to get closer to Edelgard. To win her attention. But the thought is soon dismissed. It is not within Ferdinand's character to play the long game. He is too impatient.
"Indeed, Her Majesty is a vision. But were we not talking about your trip? You seek to distract me, Ferdinand."
"What do you wish to know?" Ferdinand's voice hardens. Curious.
"Public opinion. Will your father's followers cause us trouble?"
"Becker will not do anything. He just wanted to enjoy my father's disgrace a little longer."
"He was taunting you?"
"Not openly. But yes. And I doubt he'll be the last to do so."
There is a brief silence while Hubert wonders what to say to that. He does not regret detaining Ferdinand's father. Ferdinand had even said himself that he was no true noble. But the subject remains fraught. So Hubert takes the easiest approach, which is to avoid it.
"...And the rest?"
"The people are divided. Some think I am a traitor. Some think my father is best locked up. They are worried. They fear an uncertain future."
"Enough to plot an attack?" Hubert presses.
"I was not really in a position to find out. Though I am sure my mother would slap you, given half the chance. And her slap has quite the sting. Be very afraid."
“I shall prepare the cavalry.”
Hubert expects Ferdinand to smile but it is nowhere to be found. He really does look tired. A shame he could not find much out while in Aegir but perhaps that was to be expected. Hubert’s own spies would surely manage a more thorough report.
Ferdinand sighs and rubs his temples. "I can see you strategising as we speak. I suppose it was too much to hope that you came here with another purpose."
"What other purpose?"
Ferdinand gestures to their surroundings. "We are attending a social occasion. Have a drink with me."
"I don’t drink.”
“Just one drink. Then I will let you go back to Edelgard. Though if you ask me, some breathing room might do her good.”
“No one is asking you. Ever.”
“You are intimidating the guests.”
“Why? I am just standing there.”
“Do not play innocent. You are like a wild cat among chickens.”
Despite himself, Hubert is pleased at the compliment.
"Just one, then," he says.
And there, there is Ferdinand's smile. No wonder people seem to think he is gentle.
(They haven’t seen him with blood in his hair and a battle scream in his throat.)
XxX
Hubert expects a lecture on party etiquette. But Ferdinand wants to talk about battle. Allies gained and lost. Triumphs, terrors. Ferdinand is full of words. They swirl in his mouth faster and faster and faster. It's like being pulled into a whirlpool. Maybe he’s been holding back the tide too long. Whatever the case, Hubert lets himself get swept away.
Ferdinand's mouth makes interesting shapes as he talks. Hubert never noticed before.
Occasionally, Hubert will interject with a correction or an observation. At first he assumes Ferdinand will take offence. But no. He takes Hubert’s comments and adds them to the tapestry of his story.
Only Ferdinand could make the horrors of war sound like quaint storybook tales.
Hubert takes another sip but finds his glass quite empty. Ferdinand pauses, having perhaps noticed his bewildered expression. One drink, and they’ve barely scratched the surface.
“Ah! You’ve finished, so I will not keep you.”
But how he wanted to stay at Ferdinand’s side and watch him some more.
XxX
Lady Edelgard is steadily making her way round the partygoers. She does not seek to charm. She cuts cleanly through the nonsense, like a sharpened sword. This evening is designed to cement her as a leader and she must play her part.
Ferdinand is her opposite. He is happy to chat with anyone who approaches and seems in far better spirits after their drink. Hubert cannot fathom bringing anyone cheer, least of all Ferdinand. But he seems better, at least.
Lots of ladies and a few gentlemen dance with him. Well, of course. This is what Ferdinand was raised for. A life of ballroom and battlefield.
The evening presses on. The riskiest part is soon upon them, the part where Lady Edelgard must make her speech just before the strike of midnight.
The ballroom has raised balcony at one end, where generations of emperors have stood and spoken. Hubert has guards posted at each set of marble stairs. He himself takes a post behind her, where he can see the entire ballroom.
A bell rings for silence. He watches the rise and fall of Edelgard’s breath. Then she begins to speak. The words have been rehearsed so often he knows them as well as she does.
“People of Adrestia. Thank you for attending our ball this splendid night. It was my intention to show good will to those who train, supply and love our soldiers. Be assured that each and every one is an asset to the Adrestian army.
“We are at war, which does not come without sacrifice. That is why it is important to come together as friends and celebrate the bravery and courage of our people.
“I wish you good fortune in the new year and hope you will continue to aid us in our fight for a better future.”
She is wonderful. Is that really his lady, towering over everyone? In his darkest hours, he’d thought this day would never come. But here it is.
The crowd erupts into applause. Glasses clink. Some begin to chant 'Long live the emperor!'
It is all they hoped for.
After the rest go back to their friends and their drinks, Lady Edelgard beckons Hubert with a smile. She has relaxed considerably now her duty is done.
“I am tired. I will be retiring for the night shortly.”
“Of course. I will escort you back to your chambers.”
“There is no need. I have my guards. You should stay. Make sure Ferdinand isn’t eaten alive.”
Hubert picks out his animated form in the crowd below. Several well coiffed ladies and gentlemen laugh at something he says.
Hubert nods. "As you wish."
Lady Edelgard tilts her head closer to be sure no one else will overhear.
“Ferdinand is a gifted politician. I have come upon some interesting information this night, as well as strengthening our ties with the remaining nobles. Do you think it foolish to trust him?”
“...No.”
"Good. Do not tell him I was praising him. It will only go to his head."
They watch Ferdinand. People are starting to leave, so they are coming up to him and shaking his hand and clapping his shoulder and sneaking touches of his hair. It leaves Hubert feeling grumpy and possessive, though he does his best to swallow it down.
"Too late, Your Majesty. I am sure he will remind us of this success every chance he gets."
"Correct as always, Hubert. But no matter. Let us drink to the new year."
Another glass of wine is poured for him. Because Lady Edelgard is the one who poured it, he can't possibly refuse. They clink glasses. Lady Edelgard has never said 'Thank you for your service' but the words lie in her smile.
After Lady Edelgard retires, Hubert is left with the wine bottle. As he waits for Ferdinand to bid each guest goodbye, he drinks. With each sip Ferdinand becomes more beautiful.
Hubert is more far gone than he thought. It is like the start of a bad joke. What do you get when an assassin falls for a knight?
(The answer probably involves some night/knight wordplay)
I really miss wanting to murder him.
Hubert drains his glass.
XxX
Ferdinand comes to Hubert once he has finished coordinating the tidying. The way the light from the chandeliers shines in his hair is very unfair.
Ferdinand eyes the empty wine bottle and Hubert's flushed face.
"Hubert von Vestra. You're drunk," he says with far more glee than necessary.
“I am not drunk,” Hubert insists and rises from his seat on the ballroom floor. Ferdinand reaches out to steady him. But Hubert tries to wriggle away which somehow results in him crashing into the balcony. This should hurt but Hubert can no longer feel pain. An interesting side effect of alcohol. He should look into it further.
“Stop that!” scolds Ferdinand.
Hubert glares. “You should run."
Ferdinand laughs his real laugh as he hauls Hubert’s arm over his shoulders. “Never! You will have to try harder if you wish to frighten me.”
Hubert continues to mutter threats as Ferdinand drags him along and out of the ballroom.
"I will most certainly fight back if you attempt to strangle me with my own hair," Ferdinand tells him.
They soon stumble to the entrance of the retainers’ quarters. Ferdinand gently untangles their arms and then searches Hubert’s pockets for the key. Hubert’s head spins. He should have hidden the key somewhere more difficult to find. Then Ferdinand's hands would have been on him longer.
Ferdinand drags him inside and talks him into drinking three glasses of water. The world begins to stabilise around him once again.
“I won’t remember this in the morning,” Hubert tells Ferdinand, because he hopes it's true.
“You did not drink that much. Did you?”
Hubert looks at the adorable crease between Ferdinand’s eyebrows. Then he notices something on the side of his cheek, mostly covered by hair. Hubert reaches up and brushes the strands away.
Scratches. Hubert traces them. About a finger’s width apart. Fingernails?
“You were hurt.”
“I am fine. It is nothing.”
Ferdinand moves Hubert’s hand away. His grip is very gentle but he drops his gaze. Fear? Shame? Hubert is not good at reading faces and especially not in this state.
“...I will send assassins.”
“Really von Vestra, it is just a scratch.”
It is but it isn't. Hubert feels like he’s been given all the pieces for a jigsaw puzzle he can’t solve. Stupid, pretty Ferdinand who smells like summer fruits.
Hubert flops, pressing forehead to strong shoulder. Ferdinand is warm, even through five layers of fabric. Hubert doesn't speak, seals his lips shut to make sure nothing damning escapes. The two of them are close enough to feel each other's breath.
Ferdinand sighs and embraces Hubert as if he is a mere human being and not Hubert von Vestra, protector of the throne. It makes Hubert want to cry because the last person to hug him was his mother
(Mothers are supposed to be kind.)
Hubert tightens his arms around Ferdinand and thinks of how he calms the horses after a tough battle. He lacks carrots. But he brushes his fingers through Ferdinand's hair and strokes the soft nape of his neck, which Ferdinand seems to like. He leans into the touch like a flower towards the sun.
They cling to each other for a few precious moments before Ferdinand withdraws.
“Hubert, you really are very drunk. You should go to bed. In the morning you will thank me.”
Ferdinand is right. This…need to touch...is just the wine.
From the recesses of his throat, Hubert croaks out a few stiff words.“You did a good job tonight."
Ferdinand smiles, exhausted but genuine. “Happy new year to you too.”
And then he is gone. The warmth from the room and Hubert's heart goes with him.
But Hubert will see him tomorrow. And the day after that. And maybe one day, when they have remade the world, he will be able to put his arms around Ferdinand again.
One day.
(He dreams of it.)