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Hubert had thought he was done with horses at the end of the war. But no, he still needed to get places outside Enbarr in a hurry. Her Majesty had far too many concerns to occupy her time, so he was deputized for the trip to Gautier territory to see how the Sreng situation was getting along. Along with Ferdinand and Dorothea.
This horse, named Tyton, was calm enough to stay under control while Hubert was casting spells from its back. He knew that didn’t come easy to a horse. But he wasn’t sure why it had to be so damnably tall. Dorothea had been offered a petite mare, small enough that she could mount and dismount with relative ease even though she had very little experience with horses. He’d ended up with this one, which was about as large as he was, and had spent the trip discreetly but ungracefully clambering on and off, with the aid of a large rock if he could find one.
“Would you like some help dismounting?” Ferdinand asked brightly from the entrance to the stables. Of course he’d already gotten his own horse taken care of and put away. Ferdinand had learned to ride approximately when he’d learned to walk; he was the one who’d picked out the horses for this mission. He was the only one who hadn’t minded spending hours a day on a horse getting to and from Gautier territory.
“No, thank you,” Hubert muttered. He was not going to scramble down in his usual fashion, not in front of Ferdinand, and he was absolutely not going to fall on his face. Carefully, he began to rebalance his weight to let him slide off and hopefully land on his feet.
And then Tyton took an unexpected step and he was falling, and his left foot had slid too far forward and was caught in the stirrup, and he braced himself for a hard landing on the ground which never came. Instead, while a shock of pain exploded from his left ankle, he found himself hitting something warm and much higher up than he’d expected.
“Hubert, are you all right?” Ferdinand asked frantically from right over his head.
It took Hubert a few moments to get his breathing under control before he could respond. “Yes,” he said, taking stock of how he was actually feeling. His left ankle hurt badly, but otherwise he seemed unscathed. Ferdinand had caught him, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his shoulders. Just like a princess being carried away by a fairy-tale prince, an unhelpful part of his mind noted.
“Can you get your foot untangled?” Ferdinand asked.
Hubert took a deep breath and tried to take a look at how his foot was positioned. It seemed to look about like it should; there were no obvious unnatural bends. When he tried to straighten his foot to extract it, though, another burst of pain shot through him, and he winced. More, the joint didn’t seem to want to move properly. “No, I don’t think so,” he admitted.
“Do not try to move it if it hurts,” Ferdinand urged him. “Dorothea, can you come here?” he called, suddenly increasing in volume. Tyton’s ears pricked at the noise, and Hubert braced for it to take another step and twist his leg farther.
Dorothea emerged from the stall where she’d been putting her horse away. Hubert couldn’t really see her properly from this angle, but he could hear her footsteps. “What is it?” she asked.
“Can you come help Hubert get untangled?” Ferdinand asked. “I think his ankle is sprained, he fell off the horse with his foot caught in the stirrup.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Hubert argued as Dorothea came more into view. She reached in and slid the stirrup free of his foot, and Ferdinand stepped away from the horse still carrying Hubert.
“Let me see,” Dorothea suggested. She slid her fingers along the abused ankle, which was now dangling as Ferdinand continued to hold Hubert. “I can’t say for sure with your boots in the way,” she finally said, “but I agree with Ferdinand, I think it’s sprained. Might be broken. Probably best to go get someone to check it out.”
“Right, then,” Hubert said, gritting his teeth. “Ferdinand, put me down, I can get there on my own. There’s no need for you two to keep dealing with me. I’m sure you both have other things to be getting to.”
Ferdinand obediently lowered Hubert’s legs to the ground, but as Hubert tried to put weight on them, his left ankle exploded with pain again. He felt his other leg buckle from the pain, and before he could realize what was happening, he was in Ferdinand’s arms again. “I apologize, Hubert,” Ferdinand said, “but I think it would be best if I carry you.”
Hubert sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’ll deal with Tyton,” Dorothea volunteered.
“Thank you,” Hubert called as Ferdinand shifted him into a slightly better position and began to stride towards the infirmary.
Now that he wasn’t occupied dealing with trying to stand and the resultant pain, Hubert noticed that Ferdinand was actually holding him quite closely. His gait was fast, but seemed to be trying to be smooth, to keep from jarring Hubert’s injured ankle. It was easy to lean back into Ferdinand’s warm, muscular chest, and let himself sink into Ferdinand’s solid arms.
“Are you all right, Hubert?” Ferdinand asked, looking down at him with some concern. Ferdinand’s pace slowed.
“I’m fine,” Hubert said, tensing up again.
Ferdinand sighed, picking up the pace. “I am sorry,” he said. “I knew Tyton was not the best choice for you, but we have so few horses that can handle magic. I will see about training more, and some that are better suited for less experienced riders.”
He sounded actually rather guilty. “You seem to think I’m going to be willing to get on a horse any time soon,” Hubert said, attempting to inject some humor into it. “Or that the healer will let me near one again.”
Ferdinand snorted, and when Hubert looked up, he was smiling. “Perhaps not for you. Lorenz has expressed some interest in breeding horses that are better at dealing with their riders using magic, and Constance has offered some of her pegasi-breeding experience towards the effort.”
“I will wish you the best of luck from some distance away,” Hubert said, and Ferdinand actually laughed at that.
As late as it was, there was still a healer in the infirmary. Back during the war, constant staffing had been required for scouts or warriors returning late. Now that peacetime had come, it was less necessary that someone be available at all times, but until Lady Edelgard’s Crest removal treatment was over, Hubert hadn’t seen fit to dismiss them.
Ferdinand tapped on the door with one foot, displaying a sense of balance Hubert envied, and kicked it open at the call of “Come in!” Tonight’s healer was a dark-haired young woman who had apparently been reading. Hubert caught a glimpse of a ship on the ocean before she put the book down, cover against the table, and rushed over. “Hello. I’m Clara. What seems to be the problem?” she asked.
Hubert recapped the situation to that point as Ferdinand deposited him on one of the beds. While he appreciated no longer being dependent on Ferdinand to not fall, he did miss the warmth somewhat. Clara nodded and listened, then turned to examine his ankle. “May I cut these boots off, and anything underneath them?” she asked Hubert. “I think it’s only sprained, but I can’t be sure until I’ve had a better look, and I don’t think I can get your boot off without hurting you worse.”
They were nice boots, but Hubert had other sets. He nodded, and Clara began cutting through it with a knife. She was careful to avoid cutting at his skin, and her delicate touch didn’t aggravate the pain in his ankle, but Ferdinand, who’d been standing against a wall watching, gasped and looked away.
“I’m fine,” Hubert said, looking away from where Clara was working and up towards Ferdinand.
“I know,” Ferdinand muttered, still averting his eyes. “I just… I have a hard time watching you in pain.”
Before Hubert could reply to that, the boot fell away, and he looked back down to discover that while his foot did seem to be in approximately the correct place, his ankle was purple and swollen. Clara hissed through her teeth. “Yes, that looks sprained. I can heal it up for you, but it’ll hurt when I do, and you should stay off it for a week or so for it to heal.”
There was a soft thump from the bed next to Hubert’s. Both Hubert and Clara looked over to find that Ferdinand had sat down sharply, his face pale. “I am sorry, do not mind me,” he said, noticing them staring at him. “I am bad at watching healing work. It is nothing serious.”
Clara shook her head. “Don’t look, then,” she instructed. “I’ve got one patient already, that’s enough.” She turned to Hubert. “Do you want me to heal it up? It’ll be faster than waiting for it to heal naturally, but it’ll hurt a lot.”
“Yes,” he said quickly.
“Right,” she said. “I’m going to start in a moment, then.”
Hubert looked up, over her head, as she leaned down over his ankle and set her hands on it gently. Her hands began to glow softly. His eyes met Ferdinand’s, and he tried to smile. Ferdinand was still rather pale, but seeing Hubert’s attempt at smiling seemed to bring some color back into him. He reached out one hand towards Hubert, and Hubert took it.
As much as Clara had warned of it, the pain wasn’t as bad as Hubert had expected. He could, however, feel tendons contracting and bone grinding against other bones as his ankle reduced in size and his foot slid the slight distance back to where it had originally been. He could feel himself clutching Ferdinand’s hand tighter, but Ferdinand didn’t seem to mind.
Finally, Clara stood up. “There, it’s done. Stay off it for at least another week. I’d like another look at it then.” She stepped into a supply closet and returned holding a pair of crutches. “Use these to get around, or don’t go anywhere. And try to keep that foot elevated.”
After separating his hand from Ferdinand’s, Hubert took the crutches and tried to stand up. This time he met with much more success then on his first attempt in the stables, and no pain. He took a few halting steps, making slow but real progress, then turned to face Clara. “Thank you for your help,” he said. “I’ll see you again in a week.”
She nodded. “You’re welcome. Have a nice night, sirs.”
Ferdinand opened the door, and Hubert made his way slowly out. “You don’t have to stay with me,” Hubert pointed out after a few minutes of making his slow way back towards his room. “I am perfectly capable of getting back to my room on my own.”
“I know you do not need me worrying about you,” Ferdinand said, “but I still feel more comfortable when I have made sure that you are safe.” Hubert glanced over at him at that. Ferdinand was blushing, seeming almost embarrassed by the admission.
“Well, if trudging back to our rooms at a snail’s pace makes you happier, I won’t argue with it,” Hubert said, refocusing on his next steps.
“Being with you usually makes me happy,” Ferdinand said carefully.
“In that case, since I’m supposed to stay off this foot for at least a week, how would you feel about visiting my office tomorrow for tea?” It was at least in part a matter of efficiency, but Hubert was also interested in more of the contact with Ferdinand from that night. More of the carrying seemed unlikely, but more hand-holding might be plausible.
Ferdinand smiled brightly. “I think I would like that, Hubert. How does ten in the morning sound to you? I will bring the papers from Gautier.”
“I’ll see you then,” Hubert confirmed. He could feel a smile crossing his own face, and even the pain in his ankle didn’t seem so bad.