Chapter Text
It all started with nothing more than a cough.
To be fair, it wasn’t just a cough, at least not to Hubert. He’d dealt with illness before, a mere annoyance that only served to get in the way of his work, though he’d never let it.
Coughs were by far the most annoying symptom of any sickness. You couldn’t hide a cough, not easily at least. That was the worst part of any illness. He’d worked through his fair share of colds and worse, but it only ever bothered him when others started to notice.
He’d always done his best to ensure no one could tell he was ill. He had once gotten into quite a long and one-sided conversation with Dorothea about makeup. He’d never told her he’d been using that knowledge to lessen the dark rings under his eyes and keep his complexion from becoming too noticeably pale.
Coughs, however, weren’t something he could cover up so easily.
He’d been with Ferdinand the first time it’d happened. They’d been sharing tea and coffee respectively and Ferdinand had been talking about… something. He honestly couldn't remember.
It had to have been something about horses, he was sure. That was one of the only topics Hubert had found himself tuning out in their talks. He was a little annoyed with himself for being so inattentive, but it wasn’t like he could make any contributions to the subject. Ferdinand knew that as well as he did.
In truth, he’d spent that time watching, instead of listening.
He watched how Ferdinand’s face lit up, his smile so bright it was almost blinding. It reminded Hubert of simpler times, less tiring times for the both of them. He would happily allow Ferdinand to go on and on about horses, even if he understood very little of it, just to see him so passionate and happy.
That’s when he had felt a tickling in his chest.
At first, he’d brushed it off as one of the many symptoms of Ferdinand’s company, all of which he’d learned to ignore over the years, from butterflies in his stomach to the quickening of his heart.
Then the sensation moved to his throat.
He’d been unable to suppress the cough, which made Ferdinand stop mid-sentence and look towards him. Hubert had opened his mouth to apologize only to be stuck again, significantly worse this time.
“Are you alright?” Ferdinand had asked him, the genuine concern on his face a bit too much for Hubert’s heart. He had looked away as soon as he could, muttering some excuse about dust or dry weather.
Ferdinand clearly hadn’t bought it, as he kept glancing at him through the remainder of their tea.
Hubert let out an annoyed sigh at the memory.
Most people coughed from time to time, it was never a big deal. Dust or dryness would be taken as perfectly acceptable reasons, if any reason needed to be given at all.
The moment Hubert coughed, it was a sign he was working too hard or not taking care of himself.
That being said, when most people coughed, it was once or twice. Most people didn’t have a steadily worsening cough, with no other symptoms, for over two months.
Now Hubert found himself looking through every medical and magical book in the castle library.
Normally, he wouldn’t stoop to this. Whatever strange illness he had hardly mattered, as long as it wasn’t affecting his work. The problem was that he kept being told, by different people, to go get it checked out.
The worst part was that he actually had.
...Eventually.
At first he had tried to deal with it himself, using a simple throat soothing spell. It hadn’t worked in the slightest.
He could concede that he was no expert on white magic, but to fail something so basic?
He then gave in and went to Linhardt, who was, in his opinion, the most discreet and trustworthy of their healers.
Though that isn't saying much, unfortunately.
Linhardt hadn’t even tried hiding his annoyance. Hubert had pulled from his nap to do such a boring task, poor man. And it had been boring, since all he’d done was performed the same spell Hubert had tried.
It also failed.
Which, though annoying, was a little kinder to his pride.
He hadn’t told Linhardt it had failed, just in case the man got curious.
Hubert wasn’t curious, he was just annoyed. Which is why he was trying to find some way of curing or at least suppressing this damnable cough, if for nothing more than to get everyone off of his back and focusing on more important issues. The war may be over, but all that meant was that the bloodshed was over, for the most part. Other tasks still had to be performed. He couldn’t have anyone wasting time and worrying every time his throat itched.
Hubert slid another useless book back into its proper place on the bookshelf. He had several stacks of papers to go through himself, if he ever managed to find a solution and get back to his-
Hubert was about to put another book away when a coughing fit hit him. Wrenching its way out of his throat with no warning. His first immediate thought was something akin to gratitude, as he happened to be the only person in the library at that exact moment.
His second thought was similarly grateful that he was wearing steel toed boots, as he dropped the rather heavy book on his foot.
After he’d properly given thanks to the forces of the world, he tried to pull his handkerchief from his pocket and press it over his mouth, but something stilled his hands.
The fits had been getting more violent as time went on. All he could do for the worst ones was try and keep himself upright until it passed, which was usually quite quickly. One thing he had never felt was the stinging, burning feeling now present in his lungs.
This fit didn’t pass as quickly as the others had, the coughs continued, as though his body was trying to force something out.
He realized, with mild horror, that it was.
He coughed and sputtered, trying to get whatever was lodged in his throat out of him as quickly as possible.
He wondered if he’d somehow been poisoned.
After coughing and retching for what felt like hours, he finally got the cursed object from his throat and into his mouth. From there he didn’t even bother with the handkerchief, spitting it out toward the floor instead.
The last thing he expected was to watch it slowly, almost gently, float down. Like watching a feather fall.
He stared.
As soon as he realized what it was, a rather idiotic urge passed over him. He wanted to snatch it up from the ground and shove it back in his mouth, as though that could cause it to go away, cause this all to have never happened.
He was no fool. He couldn’t just make this disappear. He’d seen it now, the cause of all this trouble.
Hubert had been poisoned, it seemed, but not in the way he’d expected.
He felt he was going to fall, like he was falling.
At least now he had his answer.
On the ground before him lay a single, golden petal.
It was the most beautiful executioner he’d ever seen.
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He burned it.
With little more than a thought, he set the thing ablaze with a powerful fire spell, nearly burning a hole in the library's floor as he did so.
He was tired of looking at it.
Hubert turned on his heel and left the library at as quick a pace as he could manage. He felt something dark, not unlike thorny vines, tightening around his heart.
He’d known from a very young age that his death would not be of his own choosing. It was very likely he was going to die in one of two places: on the battlefield, fighting and defending Lady Edelgard, or bleeding out in the shadows of some alley. He had made his peace with either possibility a long time ago.
What he hadn't expected nor had time to accept, was a death like this.
Like most people, the first time he’d ever heard of the disease had been through fairy tales, the ones he started reading to a young Edelgard when she couldn’t sleep. Stories that talked about the power of the heart and how it could be turned against us if we were not ‘attune’ with it.
After that, he’d only ever found scant medical information on Hanahaki. The disease was rare and those who became affected often preferred to waste away in their own despair, rather than become an experiment. Because of this, there was annoyingly little research on it, but he had studied and memorized what research there was.
It was his duty, after all.
If Edelgard ever succumbed to such a disease, he would do everything in his power to cure her. Just as he’d promised when he first read her those stories.
He searched his mind for any and all information, glad he met no one while walking through the dark castle halls.
Intense romantic feelings, often ones suppressed for years on end, either believed or known to not be returned, manifested as flower seeds. The seeds often took root in the lungs for a stable supply of oxygen. As the repressed feelings continued, the seeds would grow and bloom, eventually causing the victim to cough up flower petals. Near the final stages of the disease, it was common to cough up whole flowers.
The victims often died either by asphyxiating on the flowers or from having their lungs torn apart by the roots.
The species of flower is often related, either metaphorically or quite literally, to the person that caused the affliction. This could be useful information if the victim refused to name the object of their desire.
That seemed rather useless to him now. As the image of the petal still remained in his mind, he didn’t even need to wonder.
It had been yellow, bright as the sun.
He felt like a fool.
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Hubert locked himself in his quarters for five days.
He’d tasked one of the guards with informing Edelgard of his preoccupation, and another ten with reporting all movements in the castle to him.
He was loath to trust these tasks to anyone else, but he didn’t have much choice.
He’d thankfully received no inquiries from Edelgard about this odd behavior, but someone had been leaving meals at his door, likely under her orders.
He hardly felt like eating, didn’t have the time or stomach for it, but he at least made sure to toss the leftovers and leave the clean plates out, as to not raise any suspicion.
His carpet had a few new scorch marks. He’d had to burn an increasing number of petals and he was starting to become careless with the spell.
None of it really mattered anymore, there was too much to be done.
His first day in solitude had been spent devising a plan. Or, more accurately, eliminating all possible plans until one remained.
He was disappointed in himself for wasting valuable time on such an easy problem. His life span was on a much shorter timer and he really didn’t have the time to be slowed down by panic.
There were only two known cures. The first was if the victim believed their affections were returned.
He had once planned to hunt down whomever captured Edelgard’s heart and torture them viciously until they agreed to profess their love for her. It didn’t matter if they were genuine or not, as long as she believed it.
This plan was useless to him.
First of all, he didn’t need to uncover who had captured his own heart, he knew who it was all too well. He was reminded of the bastard every time he saw the bright yellow petals.
He was also very sure he would not be able to bring himself to torture a confession out of Ferdinand von Aegir.
He swallowed a batch of petals at the thought.
Back at school he might have been able to do it. Now, he was far too weak to do so. He had barely been able to order the man’s favorite tea without panicking.
He forced another batch of petals down at that memory.
It hardly mattered. Forcing a fake confession wouldn’t do anything if Hubert was the one forcing it, he would know it wasn’t real.
The only way that cure would work was if he truly believed Ferdinand loved him.
He weakly allowed the petals to escape his lips this time, incinerating them before they hit the ground.
The second option was if he managed to lose these romantic feelings entirely.
He already knew that was impossible. No sufferer of Hanahaki had managed such a feat, unless amnesia was induced.
Amnesia that didn’t stop at memories of love.
In the few medical trials that had been done on the disease, it was clear that nothing short of full memory removal, going back at least one full year before meeting their beloved, was enough to fully remove and prevent a resurgence of symptoms.
Hubert had known that obnoxious man for as long as he could remember.
He had learned the rather complex ritual used to completely erase someone’s memories, but what would be the point? Edelgard without memories was still an asset, still important.
Without all his knowledge, every single memory he had ever made, Hubert would be nothing more than a useless burden.
He would rather die.
That brought him to the last possibility, death.
He had time to prepare, at least.
Several suitable replacements would need to be found for all his duties, there was no one person he could trust with everything. There was already a contingency plan in place to hand his entire position over to one person, but he couldn’t allow it.
He just couldn’t.
Hubert had spent all his life ensuring that blood would splatter his own hands alone. He had vowed to keep those he served free from the knowledge of what lurked in the shadows.
Those he served…?
He had only been meant to serve one person, from the age of six.
Now, he was a fool who served two.
One of the first tasks he'd accomplished was barring the Prime Minister, Ferdinand himself, from even temporarily taking over his role.
He wasn’t sure he could trust Edelgard’s future to anyone else, but he didn’t have that luxury anymore. At least the war was over, peaceful time would be slightly safer, but...
His mind kept being draw back to the same place.
There was one other option. One he hardly wanted to think about.
If Ferdinand did, truly, love him in return.
What was he thinking? Sure, the man had made worse decisions in the past, but the chance was so slim and he…
He couldn’t bear the other possibility.
The path where he would approach Ferdinand, under the guise of afternoon tea. Where he would try to spill his heart, tell him the truth.
Tell him that he was dying, dying because he loved him.
Hubert could practically see those beautiful amber eyes fill with sadness, with remorse. He could almost hear two perfect lips saying “I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same.”
And how could he? Ferdinand himself had once compared Hubert to a snake, while he was more radiant than the sun itself.
In his mind’s eye he saw Ferdinand, wonderful, enthusiastic, bright. He saw him wilting away under a guilt he had no reason to bear. Under a death that was not his fault.
He couldn’t allow even the possibility of leaving him with that guilt.
Hubert was a fool and a fool he would be until his final breath. If he had to die in silence, obscure every part of his true fate just to save those he loved, he would do so without question.