Work Text:
Howling Wyvern-Moon winds snapped at Ashe’s fur cape as he crouched low and crawled across the slippery tiles of the monastery’s kitchens’ roof, heading towards the ovens’ vent. He clutched a pair of black leather gloves in his hands. Clouds obscured the starlight and leafless trees creaked with every gust, their naked branches reaching towards him like so many deadly claws. More than once, Ashe mistook the fabric of his pants for hands grabbing his legs, and it’d taken every ounce of willpower for him not to scream and scramble back down.
His heart hammered in his chest as he reached the ovens’ chimney and tied the black gloves to the grate on top of it, meant to keep rodents and pests away. Hands freezing, Ashe hurried away, slipping down the wall. Picking the lock to the kitchens while in the relative warmth and safety of the mess hall had been relaxing, by comparison. He could even warm himself on the now-lit oven.
Drying catnip at midnight broke more monastery rules than he cared to count, but he couldn’t have done it in the middle of the day, when cooks prepared everyone’s meals. Besides, he was preparing a gift, and shouldn’t knights strive to bring joys into their comrades’ lives? This whole enterprise had to count as virtuous, right?
Ashe breathed the minty aftersmell of catnip permeating the room and closed his eyes. The stint on the roof had frayed his nerves and even the wind hammering at the windows conjured images of ghostly threats to his mind. He needed to calm down.
“How intriguing. The kitchens rarely receive visitors at this hour.”
The deep voice startled Ashe. It snaked around him, low and dangerous, the hint of a threat underlying the otherwise pleasant words. He jumped to his feet and bent his neck back to properly look at its owner. Hubert loomed over him, hands clasped behind his back, black hair shadowing part of his expression but none of his terrifying frown.
“H-Hubert! G-good evening! It’s—huh, ah…”
Ashe’s heart squeezed as his words died off. Control, please! Hubert might drip menace even when he simply stood by and observed, but it was unbecoming of a knight to be terrified of a fellow classmate.
“Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me as to why a model student such as yourself is lurking in the kitchens past curfew.”
“Lurking?” Ashe swallowed some of his fear. He didn’t believe all the creepy rumours circulating about Hubert. Students whispered about him flickering in and out of shadows at night, or his body glowing when he practised magic at dusk, but that was just their active imagination! Hubert was human, the same as all of them, which made him far less scary than the ghosts hunting the monastery. “I wasn’t lurking! I was here f-for you, actually.”
“You were… waiting for me.” Threat swirled into his tone.
“N-No, I mean, not like that!” If Ashe could stay calm for two seconds, this would be easier. All right. Brave knight. Steady voice. Explanations. He could do this! “I heard you liked cats, b-but that cats didn’t like you.”
Hubert’s frown only deepened. He gestured at the oven behind Ashe, long fingers stretching into a slow and calculated movement. “And what have cats to do with the kitchens?”
“Everything!”
Surprise flashed across Hubert’s otherwise calm expression, a breath of fresh air for Ashe. He smiled and stepped away from the oven, allowing his much taller classmate a plunging view of its content. The catnip inside had lost some of its green sheen already.
“Caspar said you kept trying to lure the monastery cats when you thought no one was looking, but they all avoided you. Some students say they can smell—er, n-nothing—anyway—”
“You can say it, Ashe. They believe animals can detect malevolence, and as such, they naturally avoid me.” Hubert sounded more amused than bothered by the rumours. He leaned closer and let his voice dip low, a slinking whisper in the night. “And you… do not agree with them?”
A shiver ran down Ashe’s spine. Hubert sounded almost disappointed in Ashe for not thinking ill of him.
“I d-don’t!” he half-squealed out, and once the first words were out, the rest cascaded out, too. “This is catnip. I’m drying it out, and I went on the roof to tie a pair of gloves to the vent. They’re black and leather, like you always wear. S-so you see, next time you call the cats, they’ll come running! And no one will be any wiser about it, so it will dispel nasty rumours, too.”
Ashe caught his breath as he finished and risked a glance back at Hubert. The older student stared at the catnip slowly drying out in the oven, his expression unreadable. Long minutes trickled by in silence and Ashe’s confidence withered away. Had he said something wrong? Did Hubert not want to befriend the cats? Maybe he didn’t want a gift because Ashe was a Blue Lion, and with the Battle of Eagles and Lions coming up, tensions between the houses had been mounting.
“I happen to value the nasty rumours.” A smile flickered on Hubert’s lips, gone so fast Ashe might have imagined it. “But I do appreciate the gesture, however unexpected.”
A nervous chuckle escaped Ashe, and he rubbed the back of his neck. Why would Hubert even want those rumours? Not that he’d dare ask. “Well, huh… since you’re here, maybe we can test it out! No one is around to see.”
Hubert’s only answer was a pensive hmm. He turned and scanned the deserted kitchens, as if calculating from information Ashe couldn’t perceive. Could he see the invisible? Did Hubert communicate with the monastery’s ghosts? Perhaps that was why the cats avoided him! Ashe’s mouth had begun to dry when Hubert’s gaze snapped back to him, and he startled.
“Would an hour or two be sufficient?”
“A-absolutely!”
By Ashe’s estimates, the catnip needed another hour to imprint on the gloves. He sat back down, expecting Hubert to follow suit. Instead, the other student leaned against a nearby wall and crossed his arms. It felt as though he was guarding Ashe and the oven rather than keeping him company, but against what dangers? Ashe’s mind whispered about ghosts and he shivered, but if Hubert could protect them against evil spirits, that was good, right? Maybe even they were scared of him.
The thought was nice, but Hubert’s silence grew too oppressing for Ashe. He started rambling about the monastery’s many cats: fat and grey Billy who loved to stalk around the kitchens, Mads the tortoise monster who attacked unwary students near the cathedral, the utterly affectionate black-and-white friend Caspar had named Dog, and so on. Hubert responded with various pensive grunts and a slow “aah, but of course” at Caspar’s antics.
Once the catnip had dried, he removed it from the oven, offered it to Hubert, then announced they’d have to pick up his gift on the roof. He went alone, Hubert’s figure vanishing in the shadows as he waited below, yet the night already felt calmer, more peaceful. Maybe his companion had really scared off the ghosts. Ashe struggled with the wet knots securing the grate and gloves and hurried back down as soon as he had his gift in hand. The smell of smoke and mint-laden herbs had soaked into the leather gloves, and he proudly extended them to Hubert, lifting his lantern high so he could observe.
“A fitting colour,” Hubert said, and although his expression remained as dour as always, a hint of pleasantness had slithered into his voice.
“Let’s try them!” Ashe grabbed Hubert’s elbow and pulled him along. “There’s a spot near the cathedral where a lot of them always hang out. Even without the sun to bathe in, I’m sure a few will be there.”
“If you insist…”
They’d already crossed a fair distance by the time Ashe realized dragging Hubert along might be considered “insisting”, and rude to boot, and that Hubert was a terrifying person to offend. His heart stuttered and he glanced backward, but Hubert’s frown had not deepened—if anything, it had softened. Ashe moved on, leading them across the great bridge near the cathedral.
“Ashe.” Alarm tightened Hubert’s voice, freezing Ashe in place. If he was worried, then… “Look back. I believe your gift is working… perhaps a little too well.”
Slowly, Ashe turned around.
A tiny battalion of cats trotted behind them, filling most of the bridge’s width. They advanced upon them, an unstoppable cohort of furballs, eyes glinting in the moonlight. For the first time in his life, Ashe thought cats could actually be kind of scary. Hubert’s breathless chuckle did not help.
“How wonderful.”
Hubert strode towards them, changing his own gloves for Ashe’s catnip-smoked ones, and in the brief transition, Ashe glimpsed scars and boils of all sorts. A thousand questions bounced in his head, drenched in quiet horror, yet that particular sentiment vanished as Hubert kneeled amidst the cats. They rushed for his outstretched hand, rubbing themselves against it and drawing a pleased laugh out of him. Tension slid off his shoulders as the army of felines surrounded him, all clamouring for a sniff of his gloves, rolling on their backs or pressing their bodies against him.
Ashe watched, warmth spreading through his chest. Even from behind, he could tell Hubert enjoyed himself. A quiet sense of accomplishment filled him, exactly like when he helped poor people with as many coins as he could or saved a life on the battle. He could make a difference, one small act of kindness at a time, and better the world.
Ashe joined the cat crowd, providing support in various pets and scratches. He snickered when a lanky white feline climbed up Hubert’s back, claws digging through the school uniform and dragging a hiss out of him. Hubert plucked it up with surprising gentleness and slid bare fingers through his long furs, untangling knots and whispering warm reassurances. Ashe pointedly didn’t comment on the scars visible across his now-bare right hand, unwilling to mar the pleasure Hubert had sliding long fingers through soft fur with question. Instead, he identified the named cats for him and shared more stories, whispering in the hopes no guards would overhear them. They must have stayed an hour, cold wind blowing at their capes and chilling their fingers, before Hubert stood back up.
“Ashe.” A thread of tightness belied the steadiness of his deep voice. “If ever you need something to happen that no brave knight would want to accomplish… let me know, and I will repay this debt to you.”
He walked off, cats trailing after him, small shadows as deft and silent as Hubert himself. By the time Ashe thought to thank him, or even to refuse the offer of repayment, Hubert was long gone, a dark shape blending into the night.