Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“They’re at it again,” said Hilda, coming into the dining hall.

“Who’s they,” said Claude, “Hey, leave that alone, that’s mi –"

“Who do you think,” said Hilda but on account of having a sizeable portion of Claude’s saghert and cream in her mouth, it was more like: “Oo oo oo fink?” and a bit of it got onto her shirt.

Claude wrinkled his nose and pushed the rest of his dish over to Hilda.

“Thank you!” she said. “I’m usually watching my girlish figure but today’s a cheat day.”

Claude made the requisite gestures of their friendship – blah blah cheat day more like cheat life amirite Hilda – and then returned to evergreen topic of, as he and Hilda put it, hot goss. “Lindhart was napping on a book Lysithea wanted,” he guessed. “Lorenz threw out Leonie’s collection of old handkerchiefs. Caspar versus a training dummy and the training dummy won.”

“Nope,” said Hilda. “Nope. Yes but nope.”

“The professor fell into the lake fishing,” said Claude. “Sylvain tried to get Felix to go on a double date again.”

“Ooh, closer to the second one,” said Hilda, “but like, in vibes, not personnel.”

“The professor fell in the lake again?” said Claude. “Wait, no – let me guess, Ferdinand was breathing around Hubert.”

Hilda had cleaned the bowl at this point and signalled that, and Claude’s correct guess, by clattering her spoon around inside it. “Ding ding ding!”

At that exact moment, Byleth stalked into the dining hall. Her face was completely expressionless but that only made the effect of her frenzied muttering more disturbing. It sounded something like: “- become their teacher, they said. It’ll be rewarding, they said! Preventing murders is so much easier than murdering, they said!”

“Uh,” said Hilda.

“Hi Teach,” said Claude.

Byleth stopped and turned slowly towards them. Nothing changed on her face but Claude noticed her sword hand still twitching a little bit, as if she was instinctively reaching for the one sure way she knew to solve a problem. Byleth stilled even that tell by the time she looked at her students.

“Claude, Hilda,” she said, inclining her head slightly. “Hello. Have either of you seen Edelgard? I’ve been looking for her to address a, ah, situation.”

“Yeah, Hubert was just getting around to accusing Ferdinand of sedition when I walked by the gardens about ten minutes ago,” said Hilda.

“They’re probably at the part now where Ferdinand tells Hubert that Edelgard’s shoes should be shinier from all his bootlicking,” said Claude. “That’s usually when some of the property damage happens.”

“Yes,” said Byleth. “And I’d just sprinkled those seedlings with Pegasus Blessings too.”

“That’s too bad, Teach,” said Claude sympathetically.

“Those seeds did not come cheap,” said Byleth distantly. “Nor those Pegasus Blessings.”

“I’ve always said it’s criminal of the Pegasus Riders,” said Hilda. “I mean, it’s just coming out for free anyway!”

Somehow, the non-expression on Byleth’s face deepened and even Claude fell silent at that. “If either of you see Edelgard, please tell her to find me directly,” she said and then she turned to leave.

“Oof,” said Hilda when she felt it was safe to do so, which was approximately ten minutes after they really felt sure that Byleth was out of earshot. “Man, I would not want to be Edelgard right around now. I don’t think it’s fair – it’s not her fault that Hubert and Ferdinand won’t hatefuck it out.”

“No,” said Claude thoughtfully. “I’m sure she’s tired of it.”

“Oh well!” said Hilda. “I’m sure glad I'm not a House Leader and it’s not my problem.”

“I bet,” said Claude, “she’d really appreciate some help taking care of this. It’s never a bad idea to have someone owe you a favour, especially when it’s the future leader of the Adrestian Empire.”

“Oh no,” said Hilda. “Claude. No. I’m reeaaaallllly busy this quarter.”

“We’re in the same classes.”

“Yeah, but I also have a bunch of extracurriculars! The professor’s always after me for those axe tournaments. I gotta write to Holst – you know how he gets if he doesn’t hear from me every couple of weeks. This hair doesn’t wash, dry, and deep-condition itself!”

“C’mon Hilda,” said Claude. He rested his chin on his hand and shot her an absolutely dazzling smile that Hilda pointedly ignored. Claude was all about “you scratch my back; I’ll scratch yours” (or what Seteth called “the necessity of reciprocal relationships in a geopolitical context”) but Hilda considered that a waste of a perfectly good manicure. Yup, Claude could just save his perfect white teeth for the next sucker who came along, because Hilda Goneril had better things to do than waste her time, and risk life and limb too considering this involved Hubert, on some ridiculously convoluted scheme –

“You can take my place the next five times the professor pairs me up with Marianne for stable duty,” said Claude.

“Deal,” said Hilda.

To Hilda’s surprise, Claude didn’t approach Edelgard immediately.

“It’s this thing called ‘strategy’, Hilda,” Claude was saying in a tone she didn’t appreciate. “You should look it up sometime. Dorothea! You’re looking lovely as always.”

“Why, Claude, I can always say the same to you,” said Dorothea. “And Hilda! Love that bracelet. What brings you two to the Black Eagles common room?”

She was sitting on her desk with papers scattered around her, none of which looked like schoolwork. “Manuela and I were thinking of putting on a little opera,” she said, in explanation. “You should both audition! I bet you have lovely voices.”

“You don’t want to keep it to your house?” said Hilda in surprise. While everyone was friendly, inter-house activities didn’t happen often. Hilda supposed it was a thin line to walk between “familiar enough to make outright war undesirable” and “too close to kill on the battlefield without significant emotional trauma.”

“Now, why would I do that?” said Dorothea, with a glint in her eye. “Unfortunately, just because my housemates are nobles doesn’t mean that they’re vocally gifted. Besides, Ferdinand of course,” she added, somewhat begrudgingly.

Claude volunteered Ignatz up unflinchingly to paint scenery. “And Mercedes has a lovely singing voice,” he added. “I think it’s a great idea to open it up to other houses. Though speaking of Ferdinand, I hope Professor Byleth wasn’t too hard on Edelgard about the whole greenhouse thing. Teach is pretty into her plants but it’s not exactly Edelgard’s fault that Hubert misjudged the radius of his Miasma –”

“Ugh, bleeding Sothis,” said Dorothea, cutting Claude short.

She spoke in the tone that many of the Black Eagles had started using when referring to Ferdinand, Hubert and, frequently, both of them together. A lot of italics were involved.

“Don’t even get me started on that. Last week in the library they were fighting over some book we needed for class and Hubert tried to shove Ferdinand up against the shelves and almost overturned the whole thing on Bernadetta! She just felt comfortable going in there with other people around. And I don’t think either of them even noticed because Hubert was probably hissing something creepy about how he’s going to overthrow Ferdinand’s house into Ferdinand’s ear. Do they even hear themselves sometimes? I like a good overthrow of the nobility as much as the next girl – no offense –”

“None taken,” said Claude and Hilda in unison.

“- but this is just getting ridiculous,” Dorothea’s hat was starting to come off her head. “And even Edie is getting sick of it – I don’t think she actually dislikes Ferdinand – and you should have seen her face when she left the Professor’s room. It’d be a lot easier if they just admitted they want each other and get it over with already!”

“Exactly what I said!” said Hilda. “Except I said “hatefuck.””

“On that note, we actually have a bit of an idea that maybe you’d want to take to Edelgard,” said Claude, shooting Hilda a dirty glance.

Dorothea stopped looking at Hilda and looked at Claude instead, though her eyebrows never left her hairline. There was a beat of silence, then:

“Alright,” said Dorothea. “I’m listening.”

“Claude suggested this?” Edelgard frowned at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed out her hair. “And Hilda was there too? Nothing about this is making me feel any kind of confidence at all, I confess.”

Dorothea was seated on Edelgard’s bed, swinging her legs to and fro easily. Edelgard spared a moment’s jealousy for that. To Edelgard’s mind, no one carried herself with as much ease and grace as Dorothea. She had an languid comfort with her own body, and knew how to put glamour on and off like a cloak. Edelgard had once tried lounging like Dorothea and Hubert asked her if her armour needed to be repaired.

“I think their intentions are good,” said Dorothea. “Alright, no, I think their intentions are to stir up some mischief, but it’s certainly undeniable that it’s mischief that would serve us all very well. Do you remember that time with poor Bernadetta and the library –”

“Yes,” interrupted Edelgard, closing her eyes. “And I don’t care to recall it again, thank you.”

“And that time, I mean Ferdinand swore it was an accident when that horse threw Hubert –”

“Yes, I remember that too.”

“And the greenhouse and poor Professor Byleth’s plants –”

“I’ve certainly heard enough about the greenhouse today,” said Edelgard. “Alright, you’ve made your point, Dorothea. It’s just that – I don’t know if it’s right to meddle in something like this. I don’t want to, well, hurt Hubert’s feelings. Or Ferdinand’s, for that matter.”

“Oh Edie, you’re a darling,” said Dorothea, impulsively getting up to hug Edelgard. “I know you don’t want to hurt either of them – neither do I for that matter. But I do think that if neither of them are willing to – how did Hilda put it – “put their big boy pants on”, perhaps a more action-oriented approach should be considered.”

Edelgard put her hairbrush down and looked at Dorothea who was smiling fondly at her in the mirror. It was true that she didn’t want to hurt either Hubert or Ferdinand. A treacherous part of her whispered that the thought of Hubert finding some happiness outside of her might feel like a relief, one small part of a life she considered herself responsible for, lifted off her shoulders. And in the core of her, where Edelgard thought her purpose beat in lieu of a heart, that part of Edelgard whispered: It would be an asset to my cause if the heir of House Aegir became attached to my retainer.

Edelgard wanted Dorothea to know only the kind and soft parts of her. Sometimes Edelgard thought that Dorothea helped keep them there.

“Alright,” she said. “You’ve convinced me. Who else do you want in on this?”

Chapter Text

Byleth’s classes were not universally popular amongst her students. Her methods were, as Seteth put it, “quite unconventional.”

Byleth had stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate but Seteth was the one who broke eye contact first and coughed, saying that Byleth probably knew what she was doing. She still didn’t really know what Seteth had against her lesson plans but no one else said anything when she showed up at the blacksmith’s with a load of smithing stones and specific instructions.

Manuela was hungover sickly today and had asked Byleth to take over her class in the morning. The Black Eagles were apparently supposed to be studying “International Political Economy”? Didn’t sound like something that was going to be helpful when you were outnumbered five to one on the battlefield, if you asked Byleth. Was that going to help them punch? She didn’t think so.

“I’ll set up some circuits. We’re sharing today so we won’t have enough vests,” she said, eying her students critically.

“I volunteer!” said Hilda and Lysithea immediately.

“Thank you, Lysithea,” said Byleth, pointedly ignoring Hilda. “Who else.”

“Oh come on,” said Hilda.

“Raphael,” said Byleth. “Hm. And…”

“I am right here!” said Hilda.

“Leonie,” finished Byleth. Hilda flopped dramatically to the ground. Claude hauled her back up. “Raphael, Leonie, Lysithea, what I want you to do this time in concentrate on power and speed. I’ll time you for improvement.”

The students were gathered at the bottom of one of the higher hills surrounding Garreg Mach. Byleth had requested that everyone arrive on foot, wearing clothes and shoes that were easy to move in. Manuela was not going to be impressed if Byleth returned her students with heatstroke. Fortunately, the Black Eagles had complied.

Well. Most of the Black Eagles.

Edelgard kept her red tights but she, Dorothea and Petra had left off their kitten-heeled boots. Byleth would probably find and return the remains of Caspar’s vest crumpled up in some random corner of the monastery. Ferdinand had taken off his jacket entirely and Lindhart wasn’t wearing the skirt portion of his uniform. Byleth hadn’t seen Bernadetta enough outside of her room to comment on the girl’s usual attire, but what she was wearing now looked fine.

Hubert, however, remained entirely in pitch black, braided and buckled to the hilt. Did he always wear a cloak? Had he just added that? Probably something about “maintaining the dignity of Lady Edelgard.”

One in the infirmary out of eight isn’t bad, thought Byleth. Manuela surely could not complain about that.

“I think Professor Byleth was suggesting light clothing though,” said Petra.

“I am maintaining the dignity of Lady Edelgard!” replied Hubert stiffly.

Petra only raised an eyebrow in response. To be fair, she was dressed much as she usually was, only with less flattering footwear.

Unfortunately, the less said about his other classmates, the better. They gambolled and caroused around Lady Edelgard like so many puppies, with about the same degree of sense. Hubert could not understand why Lady Edelgard’s presence in their unworthy midst was insufficient incentive to comport themselves with sober good sense and a healthy dose of awe.

“Bernadetta is just walking,” protested Petra.

“I wasn’t talking about Bernadetta!” snapped Hubert, loudly enough that Bernadetta squeaked and tried to hide behind a bush. Hubert frowned at Caspar who was presently in the middle of applying an elbow to Ferdinand’s head. Ferdinand was pink-cheeked with laughter, his red hair falling into his eyes. Hubert’s mind went blank for a second. When he recalled himself, he scowled more darkly than he had yet done that day, and thought very hard about death and dismemberment.

“Hubert.” Lady Edelgard’s cool, light voice floated over to him as she detached her arm from Dorothea’s and came towards him. “If you are not careful, the wind will change and your face will be stuck like that.”

“A fine jest, Lady Edelgard,” said Hubert. “I am pleased to see you are in high spirits.”

“One of us has to be,” said Lady Edelgard. “Come, you cannot tell me that you are not curious to see the type of training that Professor Byleth is putting Claude and the others through.”

“It’s true that is useful information,” conceded Hubert. “I have noticed an improvement in the Golden Deer, not only in terms of tactical prowess, but in strength and endurance as well. I’m sure some secret technique Captain Jeralt developed is being employed. It will take time to unravel but I am glad we have that opportunity now.”

Byleth stood with her hand on her hips, with the various members of the Golden Deer standing at the bottom of the hill. She gave the Black Eagles a nod as they ranged themselves alongside their classmates.

“Alright everyone,” she said. “Start running up that hill and don’t stop till I say so.”

The Golden Deer took off like their namesake. Several of them were wearing bulky, black vests with very little underneath. (Actually, that was mostly Hilda.)

“Wait, what?” said Lindhart. “I thought this was supposed to be International Political Economy.”

Byleth shrugged.

“Is this a joke?” said Hubert.

“No?” said Byleth after a beat, as if she had considered that question seriously.

“My teacher?” Edelgard raised her hand and Byleth nodded at her. “Is this the best use of our time? We’re used to more specialized training.”

As always, Lady Edelgard was right. None of them had done the same exercises for years. Talents, along with corresponding certifications, were identified early on before Garreg Mach and the monastery only honed them. Ferdinand and Petra was so used to riding that sometimes it took them a while to get their land-legs after a long practice. Edelgard and Caspar cleaved the training dummies in half. Hubert, Dorothea and Lindhart made the air static and storm, while Bernadetta stood in a far off corner in a field, firing arrow after arrow silently.

“Mage, cavalry class, or foot soldier, you need speed and power. Rides get killed from under you. Terrain changes and that has impacts on your stamina and attack. So. Hill sprints. Tougher than sprints on flat surfaces but keeps your form solid and reduces the risk of injury. Warm up first, then six sets, six reps per set.” Byleth didn’t look too happy to have strung together that many words but then again, that was maybe just her face. “Any other questions?”

There was silence. “After your warm up, we can add weighted vests to your sets,” said Byleth, like that was any kind of incentive at all.

“YES!” cried Leonie, her voice floating down from high, putting Caspar to shame. “First! This is for you, Captain Jeralt!”

Byleth turned to look up, shading her eyes. “Good job, Leonie!” she called.

Leonie was walking backwards down the hill. None of the other Golden Deer looked surprised by this. Several of the other Golden Deer, upon reaching a rock that was clearly understood as the finishing point, started doing the same thing.

They looked ridiculous. Hubert began to believe this was all some fiendish plan to humiliate Lady Edelgard. The Golden Deer were not known for any particular adherence to polite manners, particularly under Claude. But to dare make Lady Edelgard look foolish! That was too far – nothing short of an open declaration of disrespect that Hubert could and would not stand to –

“A magnificent exercise!” said Ferdinand. Of course it would be Ferdinand! “Come, Lindhart! I know all too well how fleet of foot you are! And Edelgard, I look forward to proving which of us is the faster runner! (It will be me, of couse!)”

He took off. After only a second of surprise, Edelgard pelted after him, followed by Petra and Dorothea. That was all the encouragement Caspar needed and with a whoop, he was screaming up the hill as well, Lindhart rolling his eyes but not far behind him.

That left Hubert and Bernadetta standing at the bottom of the hill with Byleth. “Next round?” she offered. “Get used to the id – oh!”

With a squeak, Bernadetta launched herself up the hill with a flailing of limbs that suggested she was being propelled by the sheer anxiety of being left standing with Hubert and someone they called the Ashen Demon.

“Not bad,” said Byleth, squinting after Bernadetta. “Her arms are spoiling her momentum though.”

Hubert gazed up with her, instinctively searching for Lady Edelgard’s silver head. He felt a clutch of pride as he saw the smudge of silver closing in on the glint of orange. Hah! Despite Ferdinand’s headstart, of course Lady Edelgard was far faster than he could ever be and was catching up with him. Not that Ferdinand, ever the single-minded fool, noticed at all. He never looked back, face in a grimace of concentrated effort, racing ever upward. He had clearly not listened when Byleth said this was a warm-up, putting his all into it as usual. His eyes were bright and focused. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, clashing with his red face. Ferdinand’s mouth, open and wet, gasping for air. His heart had to be hammering out of his chest with exertion. Hubert could almost feel it in himself, the way Ferdinand’s pulse was pounding in his ears, the singing of his limbs, his desperate pulls for air –

“Look at ‘em go, eh?” said Claude, suddenly next to him.

“Gng!” said Hubert, humiliatingly startled. That accounted for the way his own heart was thumping in his chest, of course. His hands were sweaty. Why on earth had he worn his cloak? There was no reason to feel as if Claude had surprised him at something private.

“Ferdinand’s quite the sprinter,” said Claude. He looked annoyingly unperturbed by his own run, with only a slight flush to indicate that he had exerted himself at all. But that was Claude von Riegan. The man probably strolled coolly out of a burning buildings with his hands behind his head. It was hard to imagine anyone more unlike Ferdinand. Ferdinand was not suave, or cool, or particularly adept at hiding his feelings. Ferdinand died in that burning building, trying to save some old woman’s cat. Ferdinand was laughing, delighted beyond belief, or absolutely furious (usually at Hubert). Never still, his long fingers running in exasperation through his bright blaze of hair –

“I said, Ferdinand’s quite the sprinter,” said Claude.

“I heard you the first time,” snapped Hubert. “Lady Edelgard is better.”

“There’s no flies on Edelgard,” said Claude. “But I always figured she’d be quick since she’s usually on foot, swinging that big axe. Cavaliers though –”

“Claude, you are speaking nonsense,” sniffed Lorenz with impeccable and unconscious timing. “The strength required to control a fine, spirited mount, hones a cavalier’s legs extremely well. Why, Ferdinand has an excellent seat and very strong thighs.”

Hubert's visible eye widened.

“You’re completely right, of course, Lorenz,” said Claude. “Ferdinand does have excellent thighs.”

“We go riding together often,” Lorenz went on with a lamentable lack of self-preservation. “And it is a true pleasure to watch Ferdinand handle his horse. Why, Abraxas responds to the slightest squeeze of Ferdinand’s legs! Such a delicate attunement of rider and animal! I, myself, am no sloth in the saddle but Ferdinand’s prowess with the whip is –”

Claude cut in at that point. Hubert looked twitchy and Lorenz really was a valuable member of his house that he would prefer not to have assassinated in some dark corner of Garreg Mach. “Oh, here they come now! Good job, your highness.”

“Thank you, Claude,” said Lady Edelgard, ever gracious. “I can certainly see how your endurance has improved so much on battlefield.”

“Yeah, Teach is full of some great schemes. That’s a thing we have in common,” Claude said, dropping an eyelid at Lady Edelgard. Winking at her! The temerity of this upstart, out-of-nowhere dukeling! “In fact, I just came up with a brilliant idea myself.”

“Oh?” said Lady Edelgard, appropriately dubious. But Claude was already turning around to call out to Byleth.

“Hey, Teach! I’m thinking what if we change things up a little today since we’re lucky enough to have some extra bodies?” Hubert bristled at the idea of Lady Edelgard being an “extra body” but her hand was at his elbow, restraining him. “How about we throw in some mercenary carries?”

“Mercenary carries,” Byleth repeated. “Huh. Good idea.”

“I cannot believe this is something fit for Lady Edelgard to,” started Hubert.

“What is a 'mercenary carry'?” said Edelgard brightly.

“Oh, my dear,” said Lorenz. “I am certainly pleased to have your company as well but there’s no denying that our professor’s methods, while effective, are certainly unconventional. And perhaps not quite… elegant.”

Hilda was down the hill at this point. She dropped her alarmingly large vest onto the ground with an audible thud.

“Nonsense!” said Ferdinand heartily. “This is invigorating! It is certainly not what I am used to, but Professor Byleth is right that on the battlefield, one must always be prepared for any eventuality, including having to suddenly continue combat on foot and in challenging terrain. A 'mercenary carry'! It certainly sounds bracing!”

Hilda draped herself limply over Marianne. Ferdinand could see Hubert eying Hilda’s discarded vest. He was standing next to Edelgard, of course, who was also looking at it, but with interest. Hubert kicked the vest. The vest did not move. Hubert looked sour and also stood like his foot hurt.

“I’m glad you’re excited, Ferdinand,” said Claude. He looped his arms companionably around Ferdinand and Lorenz’s shoulders. “Teach calls it, uh, 'whole body conditioning.' It’s great teambuilding! Teach has had us do it a couple times – it’s a technique to carry wounded team members. We take turns slinging each other on our shoulders and running, walking, or, honestly, stumbling up the hill.”

“That is wonderful,” declared Ferdinand, eyes shining. He imagined himself on the battlefield, jawline artfully smudged with gore, diving out of the way of a fiend’s sword, only to hear Edelgard cry out. He would rush to her – sprint to her, in fact!, up the treacherous mountain path, slashing away their enemies as he went. He would pick Lady Edelgard up tenderly, she would feel like nothing on his shoulders. He would run, telling her over and over again that she was going to be alright. Hubert! he would cry. Quick, Edelgard, she’s -!

Hubert’s jaw tight, his eyes shining into Ferdinand’s with deep emotion. Ferdinand, low and intimate, clasping Ferdinand’s hands as he speaks, You risked yourself to save her. You are more marvellous than my sorry tongue can find expression for –

“Ferdinand?”

He came back to himself with a start. “I apologize profusely; my thoughts were elsewhere. Would you mind repeating that?”

“I said, carrying one’s wounded teammates certainly sounds useful to practice,” Edelgard said. “Don’t you think so, Hubert?”

“Protecting you with my life requires no practice at all on my part,” said Hubert stiffly.

Dorothea rolled her eyes. “We are aware of that, Hubie,” she said. “But sometimes there are other people on the battlefield that maybe Edelgard might want to keep alive?”

“Enough. It’s always best to have a plan for everything,” said Byleth. “Even your worst nightmare. Especially then. Freezing is not an option. You will regret every day you failed to save your teammate because you were not prepared and did not have the strength.”

There was significantly less argument after that, though it boiled up again when it came to decide who was carrying who. Everyone wanted to partner up with Raphael until Byleth reminded them that they would be taking turns carrying, as well as being carried. Then she separated Hilda and Marianne, as well as Hilda and Lysithea.

“Ugh, come on, Professor!” said Hilda.

“Lysithea, you’re with Bernadetta,” said Byleth. With a glance at Caspar who was enthusiastically accosting Raphael, clearly delighted at the prospect of hauling a man several significant pounds heavier than him, Byleth sighed, “Hilda, challenge yourself. Please. No. Step away from Lindhart.”

“Ugh, come on, professor!” whined Hilda.

Ferdinand shook his head internally and looked around for someone to partner with. Hubert and Edelgard were standing together, of course, and –

“I’ll be your partner, Hilda,” said Edelgard.

“What?” said Hubert.

“What?” said Hilda.

“I’ll be Hilda’s partner,” repeated Edelgard. She was giving Hilda a look that was hard to interpret. It was a lot of eye-contact though. Intense eye contact.

Ferdinand was suddenly stricken on behalf of Dorothea whose affections were becoming clearer to him every day. It was one thing for Hubert and Edelgard to be together all the time, another thing entirely for Edelgard to partner with another! Ferdinand was so stricken that he missed Dorothea’s quick nod, and Claude mouthing, Go. With. It, at Hilda.

“Alright, Edelgard and Hilda,” said Byleth. “Edelgard, I want you to wear your axe when you’re being carried.”

“Professor!”

“You can wear your axe when I’m carrying you, Hilda,” said Edelgard.

“No, the point here is not that we both do more work!”

Of course Edelgard could not know how cruel she was being and Hilda was certainly charming but still! Ferdinand looked for Dorothea, determined to partner with her immediately and spare her the humiliation. He was already tugging out his favourite monogrammed handkerchief. But, ah, how brave and proud she was. Dorothea had already secured Lorenz and was moving off. He would find her later and offer tea, of course, but he was pleased she would be in Lorenz’s courteous arms. Now where was Lindhart? Ferdinand looked around him.

Lindhart was being led away by Claude. Wait – who else was there left?

“Ferdinand, Hubert,” said Byleth. “I am demonstrating the lift. Pay attention. I’m not doing it again for you two.”

Chapter Text

Byleth marked off several sections of about a hundred yards each on the gentler slopes of the hills.

“We’ll start for now with everyone standing,” she said, summoning Raphael forward to join her for the demonstration in what was clearly intended as an enormous flex on her part.

Broad and bulky, Raphael’s shirt barely contained his chest and Ferdinand could not tell if it was for aesthetic affect, or Raphael taking a principled stance against the consumerist habits of the nobility. He stood a full head and shoulders taller than Byleth and his left bicep alone was about the size of her head.

“Start with your left hand, grabbing their right wrist,” she said. “Legs bent, weight in heels.”

Her hand on Raphael’s arm looked like a small, pale starfish slapped onto a boulder. Ferdinand looked nervously about for Marianne. Of course, there was Linhart who was also very proficient in Faith magic but he was the only person Ferdinand knew who could fall into deep sleep standing up with his eyes open. Having to be shaken awake really affected his reaction time.

“Dip your right shoulder just above their pubic region,” continued Byleth, demonstrating. She paused. “Is there a problem?”

“None at all, Professor,” said Edelgard, looking repressively at Caspar and Claude.

“From here, there are two options,” said Byleth. “You can put your arm around their legs. If you’re working with a size differential, slip your arm between their legs – Hubert, did you say something?”

“No,” said Hubert, darting a look at Ferdinand that he could not decipher. Hubert looked redder than the day warranted and his arms were crossed. “Is this an activity sanctioned by the Church?”

Byleth just looked at him. Her lack of expression was particularly disconcerting when she was bent over, one arm between Raphael’s legs, face framed by his tree trunk thighs. After several long stretched out seconds, she wordlessly went back to her demonstration.

Hubert’s arms tightened across his chest until his hands were almost in his armpits. He looked like a bat gearing up for a temper tantrum, decided Ferdinand. He was plainly still upset that Lady Edelgard had chosen someone else to partner with.

It was just like him to disrupt the lesson due to such pique, thought Ferdinand disapprovingly. His single-minded devotion to Edelgard’s interests did not take into the larger interests of their classmates, nor in fact, the best interests of Edelgard herself. As the future Emperor of Andrestia, it behooved her to develop politically significant friendships – alas, that it should come at the cost of the intelligent, spirited commoner Dorothea though. Wasn’t there an opera about that he’d seen before?

His musings were interrupted by Byleth’s grunt as she heaved Raphael onto her shoulders. She had looped her one arm lightly over his right arm and leg. Byleth took a step forward with Raphael, then another. Then to Ferdinand’s astonishment, she picked up speed and proceeded to run up the hill with Raphael on her back. As she ran, she drew her sword from the scabbard and Ferdinand gasped as the sword came alight, crackling outwards like harnessed lighting as Byleth lashed forward and took the top off an unlucky bush.

Ferdinand heard Hubert hiss in surprise beside him.

Byleth sheathed the sword and began walking back. Raphael beamed and gave his classmates a remarkably relaxed thumbs up, considering his circumstances.

“Thank you, Raphael.” Byleth wasn’t even breathing heavily. “I do not – I repeat – do not want to see anyone drawing weapons. That was just to illustrate that this hold allows you to keep a hand free to defend yourself during your rescue. Focus on form. If that feels easy, work on speed. Two minute break between circuits and,” Byleth looked straight at Hilda, “I will know if it’s longer.”

Byleth stood very straight, with her hand on the hilt of her sword, as the students broke off, chattering excitedly. When she was sure that no one was looking in her direction, she collapsed onto the grass. Her back! Her knees! Goddess’s teeth, what were they feeding Raphael in the dining hall these days?

Ferdinand stole a look at Hubert, stalking beside him in the sun.

This wasn’t the first time he and Hubert had been partnered for something. The class sizes at Garreg Mach were limited – it had to happen sometime. It was usually the last time too, for most of the teachers concerned. Professor Hanneman, in particular, was always particularly short with Ferdinand as if his Crest device had not been repaired so perfectly that the break hardly showed.

“But you’re usually so amiable, Ferdinand,” said Manuela, during one of their private poetry workshops.

“My amiability never wavers!” said Ferdinand. “It is Hubert who starts it!”

“Really? Every time?” said Manuela dutifully, though not hopefully.

“Yes!” said Ferdinand, as if he hadn’t called Hubert a “waxen string bean from a demon realm” just fifteen minutes ago, in Manuela’s hearing, as they passed each other in the hallway. “Every time!”

“Alright,” said Manuela. “I suppose we should return to the work you’ve turned in this week. Would you like to read it out loud?”

“Certainly!” said Ferdinand, flushing with excitement. Being able to work on his craft – well, some kind of craft – with Manuela never stopped being thrilling. “Ah, um:

Later, back in his room with fewer notes on his assignment than usual (something about not being paid enough for this, Professor Manuela muttered, ushering him out the door), Ferdinand sat down to attempt a good faith articulation of his antipathy towards Hubert.

… he’d barely noticed him at first, in truth. As his only son, Ferdinand had enjoyed being the centre of his father’s attention for several years until Edelgard was the only one of the Hresvelgs to come back to court.

“It is natural he should cultivate her as our future Emperor, dear,” said his mother, though she softened her words by drawing his head to her shoulder, hand in his hair so Ferdinand could not see her expression. “You have had eleven years of training to be the Aegir heir – now the Duke must ensure that Lady Edelgard is,” she paused for the word, “capable of leading the Adrestian Empire.”

Ferdinand did not see why. Edelgard had a perfectly good father of her own sitting right on the throne, as far as he could see. “Why would she not be capable?” he said. “Father just started,” paying attention to me, “teaching me about the estates barely three years ago.”

“And you are such a determined learner, my little apple,” she said, kissing him. Her long hair fell in sheaves around his face and shoulders, making him feel momentarily safe and sheltered. “You never give up. It is why I – we – are so proud of you, and why your father feels it wise to spend more time with Lady Edelgard, you see? He knows that you have enough grounding to continue learning on your own and to surpass her, so one day you will grow up to be a fine Duke, able to provide guidance to Lady Edelgard as well.”

And Ferdinand grew to believe himself content with that. It was strange to come to Garreg Mach, knowing he would finally meet Lady Edelgard there. Would she be shy, requiring his cheerful encouragement? Meek, needing his sturdy defenses? Ferdinand had just been about to march up to the purple-haired girl hiding under the desk and introduce himself as her loyal liege and future Prime Minister, when a silver-haired girl strode into the classroom, wearing black and gold as they all did but with red at her throat and shoulder. Beside her was a shadow.

Ferdinand believed he had transcended his childish jealousy of Edelgard. (Mostly!) The Pamphlet of Accomplishments really functioned as a journal these days. That evening, he wrote:

Musings upon Morality; or On Hubert von Vestra (A List)

Item 1: being my most Sincere concern re: his Position as Lady Edelgard’s most prominent Advisor (not to say Friend) and his attitude thereof: that his Morality is of the most dubious and his Ambition perhaps all the more dangerous that it is not Motivated solely for his own gain but rather for the Betterment of Lady Edelgard

Item 2: re: Morality & Ambition, I do not suggest that he is in the Habit of eating newborns out of their cribs, however suggestive of such his Raiment and General Comportment might be. Rather, I cannot believe that true Betterment comes from Assiduous Agreement with all that the other says; it certainly cannot come from underhanded attempts to further an interpretation of the other’s Will

Item 3: that true Betterment arises from a mutual exchange of Opinion, whether undertaken Civilly or not, Civility being too often a cloak for determined Prejudice, as long as it is an exchange characterized by the free mind and open Heart of both parties – a position – I dare say truth! – HvV scoffed at most recently in Prof. Hannemann’s Systematic Approaches of Policy Design

That had been one of their most explosive fights to date. Ferdinand was very sorry about Professor Hanneman’s device but even a child knew not to keep their treasured possessions on the edge of the table where anyone’s knee might bump it, especially if they were leaping up righteously in an argument!

Based on Hubert’s dark face, it seemed likely that they would top that argument today. When Hubert was very angry with him, his eyes never left Ferdinand’s as his voice lowered to a snarl. The memory sent a shiver through him, a sensation that Ferdinand should probably have put more time into understanding than cultivating.

Not that it stopped him, before or now. Ferdinand opened his mouth to say something, anything. He was comfortably secure in the knowledge that however innocuous, Hubert needed little encouragement to hiss and spit and loom over him until he filled Ferdinand’s whole field of vision and turned the shivers to sparking:

“Ouch! Why are you completely incapable?”

“I beg your pardon!” snapped Ferdinand before realising the insult had been delivered in a voice at least three decibels higher than Hubert’s.

“I’m sorry – ah! – sorry, sorry, sorry! – oh god, Bernie, you’ve really done it this time, she’s going to hex your insides out all over the monastery –”

“Wait, I’m going to what? I’m not going to – I don’t even know how to –”

“Aaaaah! Someone please remember to water my flowers when I’m gone and – and – and – who am I kidding, no one’s going to remember – maybe don’t waste my torn out guts, you can compost them – turn them into Bonemeal –”

“Torn out guts,” spluttered Lysithea, “oh my god, is that what’s in that? I’ve used my bare hands on that!”

Bernadetta was trying to curl herself up into a little ball on the grass but it was slow going with Lysithea trying to untangle her robes from Bernadetta’s arms. “Stop what you are doing!” said Ferdinand, jogging up. “Do not hurt her!”

“I’m not going to!” yelled Lysithea. “I’m just trying to – oof! My ankle!”

“Bernadetta,” hissed Hubert. “Get up and stop embarrassing your house.”

“Leave her alone, Hubert,” said Ferdinand. “Can’t you see she’s overwrought?”

They all surveyed Bernadetta, which did not improve her condition. “Aah!” she said and attempted to disappear her head into her stomach.

“What’s wrong with her?” said Lysithea. “We were just trying to do the exercise.”

Ferdinand crouched down by Bernadetta. “Hubert, would you please take Lysithea away for a moment so I can speak to Bernadetta?”

Hubert grunted an assent. “Please accompany me, Lady Ordelia,” he said. “Ferdinand will calm Lady Varley down and in the meantime, I will look at your ankle.”

“I’m not a little girl,” said Lysithea, colouring. “I can take care of myself.”

“I have no doubt,” said Hubert. Ferdinand noticed his eyes lingering on Lysithea’s hair. “I am just learning Faith myself, however, and it would be very helpful to have an opportunity to experiment, especially with you supervising me.” He offered Lysithea his arm and she took it after a pause, limping slightly as she walked away with him.

Meanwhile, Ferdinand sat by Bernadetta on the ground. Her screams were little sobs now and her shoulders shook with them. “May I put a hand on your back, Bernadetta?” asked Ferdinand.

Her head shifted left and right in jerky ‘no’, so Ferdinand only shifted his weight, nodding though she couldn’t see it. “That is alright, I just hope you are not hurt anywhere,” he said.

“ – Lysithea’s ankle is probably broken and then she’ll tell everyone and the whole Golden Deer house will haaaate me,” said Bernadetta, muffled. “And they’ll come after me – oh yes, they will – and Raphael will pluck my head off my neck and Claude will tear my face off my skull and they’ll use it as the new house fla-a-a-aggg.”

Her sobbing intensified.

“I… do not think any of that will happen?” said Ferdinand. “But if that is what you are worried about, I do not blame you for being distraught. It is an upsetting thought but Hubert is taking care of Lysithea’s ankle and this is a challenging exercise that you both tried and it is natural not to succeed immediately.”

“I didn’t even manage to take one step,” said Bernie. “I’m just so,” sniff, “useless! And – agh, I got grass in my mouth – and then I was,” sniff, “falling over and,” sniff, “Lysithea was just screaming in my ear and I got so overwhelmed –”

Her voice rose in pitch.

“Bernadetta, a few months ago, you would not even have tried this exercise,” said Ferdinand. “You would be hiding in your room. I think you are very brave to try it – Hubert and I have not even started – and if any of the Golden Deer insult you or try to hurt you –”

Bernadetta made a deeply alarmed noise.

“ – not that they will!” said Ferdinand quickly. “If they do – which again, they will not! – there is not a single member of the Black Eagles that will not rise immediately to your defense. We are your friends! I would fight every single one of them off myself.”

“…you would?” said Bernadetta.

“Absolutely!” said Ferdinand. “No one will be pulling your head off your shoulders and skinning your face off to use as a flag as long as I am around, I promise you.”

Bernadetta sat up. Her face was streaked with tears, mud and a sizeable amount of grass. Ferdinand passed her his handkerchief and she took it, but only sat, twisting it miserably. “…it’s not just the whole being decapitated thing though,” she said, not looking away from her lap. “Professor Byleth said that this was a way of rescuing your injured teammates. And I injured my teammate trying to rescue her! I just… it’s really hard to feel… to be this useless.”

“May I hold your hand, Bernadetta?” asked Ferdinand. This time she nodded and he reached out. Bernadetta’s hand was very cold in his, and clammy. “First of all, this was your first time trying out an exercise. Secondly, this is one of probably many techniques that can be employed for retrieving an injured teammate, including some that might be easier for someone with a smaller stature. Why, we could ask Professor Byleth,” Bernadetta made a deeply alarmed noise, “I mean, I can ask Professor Byleth for some suggestions! And finally, you are not useless. You have the keenest eye of anyone I know. I will probably never come close to your mastery of the bow. And you keep trying everyday! I know it can be hard for you to leave your room at times but here you are anyway. Your determination is inspiring.”

“And if Ferdinand says that you are determined, you may rest assured you are,” said Hubert’s voice. Ferdinand felt Bernadetta’s hand jolt in shock at his sudden approach.

“I don’t know that I would have managed it on the first try either,” said Lysithea. “I’m impressed when you volunteered to go first. And I’m not mad – well, I’m not mad now. And you did very well for someone just starting to learn Faith, Hubert. My ankle feels much better and – and – I’d be willing to try again, Bernadetta, if you are?”

“R-really?” said Bernadetta. Ferdinand gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then released it as they both stood.

“Yes,” said Lysithea firmly. “It’s my turn to try to carry you this time. I’ve been training! You’re probably a lot lighter than Hilda.”

“Alright, Bernadetta?” asked Ferdinand, who wasn’t planning on leaving her alone if she didn’t want to be.

“….okay,” she said in a small voice. Ferdinand almost clapped her on the shoulder but caught himself in time. “…thank you, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand beamed.

Hubert still felt the aftermath of Ferdinand’s smile in his body. It was like a shot of rotgut, potency giving way to a slow poison that spread through him, leaving him too aware of his arms and legs.

Worse was eavesdropping on his conversation with Bernadetta. He did not like reminders of how personable Ferdinand could be – genuine in a way that Hubert, who was reminded regularly by Edelgard to use “attending” instead of “infiltrating” Garreg Mach in day-to-day conversation – found disconcerting and deeply suspicious. Ferdinand was not naturally charming. In fact, he had alienated many members of their class in his first few months, much to Hubert’s none-too-secret delight. And then, in an equal amount of time, he won them back. Mostly, as far as Hubert could see, with honesty and sincerity.

It made him want to put a knife in his eye.

If Ferdinand ever tried those dubious tactics on him! Hubert had a brief vision of Ferdinand standing in front of him, taking his hand the way he had taken Bernadetta’s. Warm amber eyes wide and earnest. Hubert, I just wanted to tell you that I –

“We’ve wasted enough time!” Hubert declared forcefully. “Get on my back, I’m going first.”

In the end, all of Hubert’s strategy mostly boiled down to finding the quickest way to an end, however many bodies were in the way. Hubert applied the same tactic now and it made absolutely no difference that the body was Ferdinand’s.

None at all.

Without further ado, he advanced upon Ferdinand, grabbing his wrist and slipping his arm around Ferdinand’s legs – not between them – and lifted. In his eagerness to have the entire ridiculous exercise over with, he overestimated his strength – “tiny little mage arms,” as Hilda would have put it – and underestimated Ferdinand’s bulk.

Ferdinand was still slender with youth but his training had was beginning to harden and would, eventually, bulk him. Hubert might have gotten some clue from Lorenz’s monologue but his brain had switched off right around the second Lorenz alluded to Ferdinand’s thighs and he had done the mental equivalent of stuffing his fingers into his ears and going “LA LA LA LA” very loud. Hubert gripped onto Ferdinand’s legs hard and it was very definitely only because he needed to steady himself. It was more than enough to confirm Lorenz hadn’t been lying.

“Oof!” said Ferdinand as Hubert stumbled forward. “Have a care, Hubert! Now, I was paying close attention to Professor Byleth’s technique and I believe –”

Apparently, Hubert’s shoulder digging into Ferdinand’s solar plexus did not, in any way, shape or form, hinder his vocal enthusiasm for Byleth’s display and he continued at length: “- and then the sword went, “woosh!” It was a magnificent display! Did you not think it magnificent, Hubert?”

“Ngh,” said Hubert, struggling to step forward. After the greenhouse debacle, he had reluctantly promised Lady Edelgard that he would try not to antagonize Ferdinand for at least a two weeks. I still have hopes of him, Hubert. It would be significant to have the heir of House Aegir swayed to our cause. Do not ruin this for me.

“Could you believe Professor Byleth’s power? Little wonder even Bernadetta was inspired. Such a display as I have never seen!”

“Ggh,” said Hubert again, through gritted teeth. All he could smell was mint and the citrus tang of Ferdinand’s favourite tea and it was irritating him immensely. Did Ferdinand bathe in the stuff? Didn’t his brain had better facts to recall than Ferdinand’s favourite tea? No, you will not curse him. No, I do not care if he is always starting it, Hubert. Hubert! If you persist down this path, I will receive my debriefings alone for the next month, you have my word on it.

“And Raphael is so tall and strong and broad!”

Hubert’s chest felt like exploding and Ferdinand’s emphasis on Byleth’s power and Raphael’s physique wasn’t helping. Hubert had eyes didn’t he? He had been there! Byleth’s thighs straining against her truncated shorts as she ran. Raphael’s broad shoulders and big hands and ridiculous too-small shirts. Was there something in the Golden Deer Code of Conduct that prohibited covering up more than a quarter of their body?

“She lifted him like a basket of fish! Why, Raphael’s arms alone must be –”

Hubert dumped Ferdinand onto the ground at the finish line.

“Agh!” yelped Ferdinand. “Hubert! I am your injured teammate in this scenario!”

“I can well believe you have some kind of injury,” said Hubert. “Particularly in the head. It is the only explanation for your inanities.” This would have been more biting if Hubert were not still bent over double, trying to recover his breath.

Ferdinand coloured up anyway. “Do not take your temper out on me!” he said. "I will show you!"

Before Hubert could react, Ferdinand hoisted him. Hubert’s chest met Ferdinand’s sturdy shoulders with a thud that obviously explained why all the breath he gasped for left him in a gust. The smell of mint and citrus intensified. He would probably be smelling it in his sleep. More infuriatingly, Ferdinand was entirely capable of long-winded argument with six feet two and a hundred sixty pounds on his back, while running.

“I understand you are upset but I, for one, do not blame Edelgard for not wanting to spend every second of the hour with you,” Ferdinand said between gulps of air. “It is well for her to use these carefree school days to make new friendships and allies without you always looming over her!”

“You – watch your step, you idiot! – dare to speak of her Majesty’s friendships and allies,” sputtered Hubert. “As if you are any kind of advisor to her –”

“I consider Edelgard a friend! And a very worthy rival!” wheezed Ferdinand. Hubert’s face went puce, not that Ferdinand could see it. “It is only a testament to her qualities that she is able to have friends at all with your everlasting looming and lurking about like an overgrown bat – Hubert, stop wriggling–”

“I am not wriggling, I’m trying to strangle you,” hissed Hubert.

“Well, stop doing that, then!” yelped Ferdinand, right before Hubert succeeded in twisting so that his hands were on Ferdinand’s throat and they collapsed to the ground.

Hilda and Edelgard watched from a distance. “I need a break,” said Hilda.

Edelgard sent her an unimpressed look. “I was the one carrying you,” she said.

“I mean, I need a break from all this relentless sexual tension!” said Hilda, who had not meant that all. She recovered quickly though. She waved a hand towards the flailing bundle of limbs that was currently Ferdinand and Hubert. “It gets in the air, clogs my pores, you know.”

Edelgard frowned. “I don’t think... it can do that?”

“It’s doing something to my nerves anyway,” declared Hilda, as Hubert managed to pin both Ferdinand’s wrists to the ground. “Getting on them! Maybe it’s time to do something about that.”

This was usually the point where something she said would spark a scheme in Claude’s abnormal brain but Edelgard just continued looking her. God, things were so much easier with Claude!

Edelgard and Hubert must have grown up together, thought Hilda. What with the obsession about Crests and lineages and majors and minors and blah blah blah all that stuff just put Hilda to sleep, the family trees of most noble families were a garbled mess. She was pretty certain she might be Lorenz’s fourth cousin twice removed, horrifying thought. Hubert and Edelgard didn’t bear any kind of family resemblance, but they wore the same looks sometimes, the same gestures. Hubert walked with a shorter gait than he should, keeping up with Edelgard in a way that seemed natural through habit. And the unenthusiastic look she was levelling at Hilda now was distinctly Hubert-ish.

“What do you suggest we do about it?” said Edelgard, over the sound of Ferdinand and Hubert scuffling in the distance. “I confess, with Claude’s self-declared reputation for scheming, Dorothea and I have expected a little more follow through.”

Hilda bristled up at this slur against her House Leader. “Claude’s a genius,” she stoutly. “And of course he has a plan ready!” Lie. Claude had some mind maps prepared, had made a couple lists, was about to invite interested parties (i.e. Edelgard and Dorothea) to some secluded room, maybe getting Hilda to dump a little extra dust in there for that extremely abandoned look (“Atmosphere is everything, Hilda!”) Claude liked things in place before he set them into motion.

Out of the corner of the corner of her eye, Hilda saw Ferdinand stare up at Hubert for a brief, breathless second, before jerking upwards and out from Hubert’s hands.

Hilda didn’t really see the point, honestly. It was impossible to predict every moment and sometimes you just had to grab onto what you had and hack its head off. She’d forgotten what metaphor she was going for. “He has a plan,” she repeated. “Which I am about to action. Right now.”

Hah! Now Edelgard was looking less superior and more startled. “The two of us? You and I?” she said. “Now?”

“Yup,” said Hilda. “Just follow my lead.”

And what the hell, because you never knew when the Professor’s eyes would be on you, Hilda reached for Edelgard’s hand, looped her arms around Edelgard’s legs and lifted Edelgard easily, axe and all. Then she took off towards the copse of trees, right as Ferdinand stormed away from Hubert.

Hubert got off the ground and started brushing his clothes off. His expression was a new one to Edelgard. Hubert was developing quite the repertoire when it came to Ferdinand. She wasn’t entirely sure how much she liked that. Edelgard knew the slight furrow of his brow that meant worry; Hubert could tell her headaches were coming on by the tightening of her jaw. Now, because of Ferdinand, it was like a new constellation had appeared in the night sky and she wasn’t sure how to read its sequence. What did it mean when Hubert twisted his mouth so, when looking at Ferdinand as he stormed off? Why did his hands flex in the empty air?

Why was Hilda gesturing at her exaggeratedly?

“Uh,” said Edelgard.

“I think it is a real pity about Hubert!” Hilda said, clear as a bell.

“What do you mean about Hubert?” asked Edelgard, genuinely puzzled.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Hubert pause and notice she and Hilda by the trees. This expression was much more familiar to her: frowning speculation at their presence and, ah yes, the crossed arms of “wait and see” as he found a convenient bush to melt into.

Edelgard felt Hilda rolled her eyes with a truly unnecessary amount of vigour. “I mean – about him and Ferdinand!” said Hilda. “You know…”

And she looked meaningfully at Edelgard.

Edelgard wished heartily that Dorothea were here. “Ferdinand and Hubert,” she said. “Yes. It is a pity.”

She looked at Hilda. Hilda looked back at her. Edelgard could feel Hubert looking at them both from the bush.

(How had he even managed to fold himself into that bush anyway? Ah well, that was why he was her retainer, after all.)

“It is a pity,” Edelgard repeated, “yes, a real pity that he should behave like that when Ferdinand is head over heels for him.”

She thought she heard something from the bush. Emboldened, Edelgard said, “Why, there are times when I have visited Ferdinand in his room and his notes are covered with Hubert’s likeness.”

“Woah,” said Hilda. “That’s kind of creepy?” Edelgard gave her a hard look. “But romantic! Very romantic! I don’t know how Hubert could miss it honestly – like yeah, there’s all the “you’re a bootlicking snake!” thing but he can’t believe that the weird rivalry Ferdinand has with you is coming out of nowhere.”

“They are both idiots,” said Edelgard very definitely. “There is nothing Ferdinand needs to be jealous of on that front. As I told him.”

“You told him?” said Hilda.

“Yes!” said Edelgard. If only Dorothea could see her now! She was always going on about how improvisation was one of the hardest arts of theatre. “He came to my room one night, passionately distraught and confessed his love for Hubert to me.”

“He did?” said Hilda, who was beginning to feel this was all going off the rails a bit.

“On his knees before me, was Ferdinand,” continued Edelgard, staring off into the distance as genius burned. “And his eyes were bright with unshed tears, and he said – right, he said, “Edelgard, you are Hubert’s closest friend and his Emperor besides, it is only proper that I come to you for advice on how to melt his icy heart for mine burns for him!” and he punctuated this by beating his hand against his own breast –”

“Wow,” Hilda said. “Well, that’s really something! Very believable though! Very in-character for Ferdinand.”

“I told him no, of course,” said Edelgard and there might have been a gasp from a bush somewhere. “The truth is that Hubert is a cold, hard, brilliant man. I can have no better friend. His loyalty is unparalleled.”

“Absolutely!,” said Hilda. “Ferdinand is like, the opposite of cold and hard and he’s about as brilliant as a brick – he’s just a fairytale prince! All noble and stuff, kind and supportive, you know, and really, the ass on him too. Hubert could never appreciate that.”

“I agree entirely,” said Edelgard. “Which is why I told Ferdinand that he was better off turning his affections –”

“And his ass,” put in Hilda.

“ – elsewhere, to someone who is able to appreciate them. I fear he has not taken my counsel,” Edelgard continued, not thrilled by Hilda interrupting her flow. “Even now, I see his eyes following Hubert’s movements about the room when he thinks no one is watching. I believe he is trying but when a man like Ferdinand falls in love, it is near-impossible for that flame to die. He is not someone given to brief infatuations.”

“So you definitely don’t think it’s a good idea for him to confess to Hubert,” said Hilda.

“Absolutely not!” said Edelgard. “Why, you know how Hubert is, he will break poor Ferdinand’s heart callously.”

With an eye to the shadowed bush, she added in a stroke of inspiration, “I have almost thought that, as his future Emperor and concerned friend, that perhaps it might be best to encourage him elsewhere. He and your classmate Lorenz seem well-suited –”

“Oh, is that the time!” said Hilda. “Wow, I think it’s about time for lunch and all our sets done too! Come on, Edelgard, we should get going.”

The two girls went away, Hilda furiously whispering. If Hubert had been in any state to pay attention to them, he might have heard something like, “What was that last bit! Are you nuts? Are you trying to get Lorenz killed?”

But instead, Hubert sat there, trying to contain a huge and unnameable thing in his chest.

“Ferdinand loves me?”

“You two did what?” said Claude.

Chapter Text

“I did not think I stuttered, Claude.” Edelgard lifted her chin as she said it.

“Good for you. You might not be aware of these things called rhetorical devices. “You two did what? ” was said, not in the true spirit of inquiry, but because I wanted to underline what a bad idea it was.”

Dorothea looked from Edelgard to Claude, then back to Edelgard in case she wound up to punch Claude and she needed to interfere. In fairness, Claude was being extremely annoying. His stance was casual, hands behind his head as usual, and he had his eyebrows lifted. Dorothea would have punched him herself.

He had a point though. A preoccupation with the absolute truth was such a bourgeois concept and since Claude was a lying snake if she ever saw one (high compliment), Dorothea knew that wasn’t his problem.

If you were going to tell a lie, you might as well make sure it was effective. And letting Hubert von Vestra believe that his Lady Edelgard severely disapproved of any dalliance with Ferdinand von Aegir was probably not… the choice Dorothea would have made.

Right on cue, Claude said, “What do you think, Dorothea?”

Ugh. “Your opinion is very important to Hubert, Edie,” Dorothea said tactfully. Partly because Edelgard was looking at her like a lavender-eyed kitten left out in the rain. Partly because they might pretend to be on terms of equality on the grounds of Garreg Mach but Edelgard would never have guards gossiping about how she got in and Dorothea didn’t want trouble. 

“If he thinks you disapprove, he’s not going to do anything,” Claude said. “Like Hubert needed more reason to be weird about his thing with Ferdinand. And you didn’t need to set him after Lorenz either. He’s a pain in my ass but neither of us are going to want old Count Gloucester sending nasty letters to Archbishop Rhea because Hubert decides to give him a riding accident.”

“And not the sort he wants to give Ferdinand.”

“Okay, enough piling on Edelgard,” said Dorothea, shooting Hilda a dirty look. As if she wasn’t the one who started all of this with her total lack of impulse control and inability to direct a scene. “She just chose to do something about it when no one else did.”

“Hey, I don’t think it’s a bad idea!” Hilda protested. 

“Thank you, Hilda,” Edelgard said.

“Like, I’ll never really be able to pull off burgundy with my hair,” continued Hilda. “And guess what my favourite colour is! Burgundy. Sometimes the thing you want the most is the one you think you can’t have.”

Edelgard blinked.

“You could pull off any colour you want, Hilda.” Dorothea didn’t want this to devolve.

Claude tapped his finger against his chin thoughtfully. “You’ve got a point, Hilda. Not about being unable to pull off burgundy! I think with your undertones - anyway.”

He pivoted, bowing towards Edelgard with a graceful theatricality Dorothea would have given her eyeteeth for. “There’s nothing sweeter than forbidden fruit, so I guess we have to make sure this one’s ripe for the picking. I’m sorry for what I said before, princess. I got my nose out of joint being caught off guard, but part of being a good leader is being able to be a bit flexible, isn’t it?”

Edelgard looked a bit taken aback. Maybe she wasn’t used to being second-guessed. Maybe she wasn’t used to unforced apologies. She still didn’t look pleased with Claude but she nodded and said, with a hint of challenge, “What else do you have in mind?”

“We follow the path you’ve set,” Claude said. “We make sure this particular apple is ripe for the picking. And then we go with my plan to keep throwing them together.”

He gestured to the wall which was pinned with sketches of different areas of Garreg Mach, in varying quality and several weeks worth of chore rosters. The rosters were scribbled over, different colours looping over names and linking them to others, in a wild criss-cross of lines, arrows, circles, exclamation points and the odd skull and crossbones.

Dorothea studied them. “These look like the product of a disturbed mind.”

“Not inaccurate!” Hilda said. “Claude and I did them. Well, it was Claude. I threw in some ideas, here and there.”

“You mostly tried to get out of every obligation you were scheduled for,” Claude said cheerfully. “But that means you have a pretty good eye for who needs what type of convincing.”

Dorothea and Edelgard studied the charts. The scramble started to coalesce into some kind of meaning: people were removed from stable, cooking and library duties, sky watch, weeding, and supply runs via a complex system of barter, bribery and - “Mild poison, Claude, really?”

“Just a small emetic.”

“Poison is a coward’s weapon,” Edelgard said.

“That’s rich coming from someone whose best friend is Hubert,” Claude said. 

Dorothea looked at both of them.  “Also resorting to biological warfare seems to be overdoing it a bit?”

Hilda leaned in to examine the chart. “Hm, yeah, I can see Dorothea’s point. Ignatz doesn’t like cooking much. We can move Lysithea.  Kitchen’s doing peach sorbet that day and that’s one of her favourites so she shouldn’t really put up a fuss, and let’s see, it’s always a hassle to get Ashe to give up the library but I think he’ll swap to stables … he’s got his sights set on the bow knight certification and Dedue will be there at the same time. So that really shouldn’t be a problem.”

That had taken her only seconds to work out. Hilda leaned in, pulled a pencil out from Goddess only knew where, and made a few corrections. The pencil disappeared in the same mysterious manner. Dorothea found herself reluctantly impressed.

Claude walked towards the charts, tapping the paper with one finger. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, we’ve got about four hours before they’re on kitchen duty together. So, how about it, Dorothea?” He winked at her. “Want to show these amateurs how it’s really done?”

“Claude,” Dorothea said, accepting his hand. “If this whole leader of the Alliance thing doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got to come to Enbarr with me. I could make you a star.”

Claude grinned. “It’s always nice to have a backup plan.”

Behind their backs, Hilda and Edelgard exchanged a look and rolled their eyes. 

***

Byleth always found tea with Manuela to be restful. Manuela did all the talking and she was usually amusing, besides. Byleth didn’t need to do much more than nod, or smile. Or in this case, make what she thought was a vaguely sympathetic expression as Manuela said, “If it were any other two students in Garreg Mach, I would think they were pranking me. But Lorenz and Ferdinand! It’s inconceivable and yet, Byleth, I’m at my wit’s end here.”

Byleth leaned forward to refill their teacups.

“Last week Ferdinand sat me down and read me a sonnet about cheekbones! What was the line? “That candlelight should paint your face/With something like a bare skull’s grace.”” Manuela put her head in her hands. “And then Lorenz talks about how that’s a lovely metaphor for the spirit of love and the passing of time and then they both look at me for feedback like this isn’t clearly about Ferdinand’s barely sublimated feelings for -”

Something burst out of one of the rose bushes. Byleth just had time to pull out her thigh dagger and sheathe it again after she realised it was only Edelgard’s companion, the scowl on two legs. Top marks for stealth. 

“- Hubert von Vestra! ” Manuela glared and shook a teaspoon at him. “For the love of - may I help you? I am trying to enjoy some tea with Professor Byleth here.”

“This is about the division of chores.” Hubert bit each word out, almost vibrating with repressed feeling. 

“Hubert, for the last time, I understand Lady Edelgard is going to be the once and future Emperor of Adrestia but that does not exempt her from kitchen duty.”

“That. Is. Not. The Problem!” Byleth just moved the teapot in time as Hubert slammed down the chore charts with more force than necessary. “I just took a look at my  duties for the next two weeks and they are unacceptable!”

“Hubert, I am going to have to insist you calm yourself,” scolded Manuela. “I’ve signed off on them and that’s final.”

“You barely look at them!”

“Right!” Manuela said, crossing her arms. “So if you have a problem with them, I suggest you speak to Edelgard about it.”

Hubert deflated comically. Seeing a clear advantage, Manuela pressed on, “Of course, if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, I am happy to speak on your behalf, Hubert. After all, that’s what I’m here for.”

“No,” said Hubert through his teeth. “That will not be necessary.”

Byleth reached for the chore charts. Hubert snatched them away from her before she could see them. With a stiff bow, he stalked off.

“And don’t think you can skip kitchens today, mister!” Manuela called after him. She turned back to Byleth and shook her head. “You know, even with all the poetry I’ve been reading lately. I have to say, I still don’t get it.”

“That was Claude’s handwriting,” Byleth said. “On those charts you signed off on.”

“Hmm.” Manuela sipped her tea. “Was it now? Do you think we get paid enough to deal with that?”

Byleth thought about it. “No,” she said. “Biscuit?”

***

“Have you noticed that Hubert is behaving strangely?” 

Linhardt opened one eye and looked at Ferdinand. He closed it again, knowing full well it would do absolutely nothing to dissuade Ferdinand, or induce him to go away. Sure enough, Ferdinand continued, “It is not that I pay him particular attention of course! Beyond the attention that I pay all my classmates, as a matter of course. It is only courteous to inquire into someone’s well-being. Speaking of which, how is your day progressing, Linhardt?”

“Mm, I’m exhausted.”

“Excellent, I am pleased to hear it!” It was amazing how Ferdinand could make everything he said a declaration, even while clearly distracted. A feature of the Crest of Cichol? Seteth was certainly a decisive speaker, capable of making commas clang like a coffin lid. “Now, Hubert, though. Does it strike you that he is sickly? Ill? He has been unaccountably absent lately.”

Of course, as with anything to do with Crests, more information only provided more questions, Linhardt mused. He shifted himself so the weight of his head was cushioned more securely on his other arm. He would never have known about Seteth’s Crest without a lucky glance at Professor Hanneman’s notes. At midnight, after picking the lock. Well, getting away with it was the lucky part. What relationship could he and Ferdinand possibly share? “Could you pass me the quill and some paper, Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand did so, without stopping the flow of his conversation at all. “Outside of our classes, I have barely seen him in days.”

“Mm.” Linhardt started with Ferdinand’s eyes, then Seteth’s. He wasn’t exactly Ignatz and his fingers weren’t as talented as his recall but it wasn’t a bad likeness. Ferdinand’s eyes tipped upwards; Seteth’s were narrower. Hmm. 

“He has not been to his favourite spot in the library lately. You know the one, it is the one furthest away from the door with the least candles about. I mean, I only notice because I was in the library recently myself to peruse their volumes on ancient weaponry and am unaccustomed to perusing in peace.”

Ferdinand sounded rather put out by his experience of peaceful perusal. Linhardt only wished he got more of it himself. He drew their noses. Quite similar. 

“It is not that I really care, of course! I mean, I do, but it is because he is my classmate. As you are. Under the same circumstances, I would exhibit the same degree of concern for your person.”

“I sincerely hope not,” Linhardt said absently. Ferdinand was handsome enough but far too high-strung. The corners of his mouth always turned upwards. The same could not be said of Seteth’s. 

Ferdinand made a frustrated noise beside him. “Do you think I should speak to Edelgard about this? Of course, I am sure that she is already aware. But perhaps she is not! Keeping it from her is exactly the kind of thing Hubert would do. He would not want to worry her even though, as her retainer, his health should be amongst her highest concerns -”

 “Why don’t you ask him? He’s just walked in.”

Ferdinand sat bolt upright, jostling Linhardt.  He looked up to grouse, in time to see Hubert catch sight of them and leave the classroom in a conspicuous u-turn. That was a bit odd. 

Ferdinand deflated. Linhardt took the opportunity to study the downturn of his mouth. Not really like Seteth’s at all. Perhaps investigating direct bloodlines was a bit simplistic. Because he had come this far and might as well, Linhardt feathered in Ferdinand’s bangs. “It does seem like Hubert is acting strangely,” Linhardt offered as an afterthought.

“Ah, you agree!” If possible, Ferdinand sat up even straighter. “I am thankful for your opinion, Linhardt! I was concerned that perhaps I was being overzealous -”

“One doesn’t cancel out the other,” murmured Linhardt, doodling little Crests of Cichols on his paper.

“Despite your overriding sloth, there is no one who could doubt your perspicacity. There is only one thing to do, let us go after him! We will surprise his secrets with persistence!” Ferdinand slapped a hand on the table, knocking over Linhardt’s inkpot. “Oh no!”

“Ferdinand!” Linhardt was genuinely annoyed as Ferdinand grabbed for anything to blot up the mess, swabbing at the table with force enough to scatter more of Linhardt’s notes and papers to the floor. Linhardt slid under the table to gather his work. Over Ferdinand’s fervent apologies, he collected his papers, grumbling internally the whole time. Splotches all over his equations - oh wait, that wasn’t ink, that was a spot of drool. Nevermind.  

Linhardt was debating the merits of resuming his seat or simply lying down under the table to snooze, assuming Ferdinand stopped talking at some point, when a flash of movement by the door caught his eye. Hubert back to pick the fight he had uncharacteristically stepped away from? 

It was Claude but he didn’t step into the Black Eagle classroom. Instead, he smiled when he saw Ferdinand seemingly alone, then positioned himself casually just by the door, cleared his throat slightly and said:

“Wait, what did you say about Hubert, Dorothea?”

Linhardt felt Ferdinand stiffen sharply and stifled a sigh himself. Goddess, it was exhausting, it really was. Someone with more energy than he should really just lock the two of them in a closet together for an afternoon. Maybe he could mention it to Petra -

Clear as bell, Dorothea replied, “Oh Claude, this can’t come as any surprise to you. Of course Hubie is dying to suck Ferdinand’s face off. For a start.”

Ferdinand overturned the ink bottle again.

“What!” Claude said. He had his hand on his chest, mouth open. “No! You shock and amaze me!”

“Claude.” Dorothea sounded amused and exasperated.

“Okay, okay.” The smile was obvious in Claude’s voice. Ferdinand was no longer pretending to clean anything up. Linhardt wiped ink out of his hair. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s got a huge crush. But I thought maybe he was trying to get over it. You know, he and Ferdinand are paired up for chores over the next few weeks and Hubert came to me, asking me to try and get him out of them.”

“Hubert asked you for a favour?” Dorothea’s hand was at her chest. “No offense, but I really thought he’d sooner sell his soul to Nemesis.”

“Right, I thought it was weird too. But hey, if the guy is trying to get over someone he has no chance with, who am I to blame him? It’s got to be painful. He did overestimate me though, there’s no way I could rearrange several weeks worth of duties. I mean, that’s a lot of work. And I’d need to get Teach and Professor Manuela to sign off on it,” he added, as if either really cared that much as long as Seteth didn’t come to confront them about missing library books.

Not that Linhardt knew anything about that.

“Couldn’t you do him a favour just this once? You know, it just kind of breaks my heart, seeing Hubie like that.”

“That’s the thing, Dorothea.” Claude leaned his head in confidingly, and seemed to lower his voice. Lindhart was still able to hear everything clearly though, and so could Ferdinand, based on the death-grip he currently had on the table. “Why doesn’t he just give it a shot and tell Ferdinand about his feelings? He’s brilliant, ambitious, cheekbones you could slice bread on. I mean, if you’re into the tall, dark, murder-y type, you could do a lot worse.”

“Hah!” Dorothea tossed her hair back, a touch theatrically if you asked Linhardt. “Sometimes it’s so clear that you’re not from the Empire, Claude. Trust me, if Hubie ever tried to be honest, Ferdinand would laugh him out of Garreg Mach.”

Ferdinand made an indignant noise but before he could storm out and confront her, Linhardt seized him by the ankle.

“I didn’t really get it at first myself, until Edelgard explained it. House Vestra doesn’t have a domain the way the other significant noble houses in Adrestia do. The majority of their influence comes from their role at the Emperor’s side and that’s not really where real power in the Empire lies these days. Aside from that, they don’t have land themselves nor a legacy of Crests. Not the way House Aegir does. Really, it’s just the fact that Marquis von Vestra allies himself with powerful men that give them any real importance at all.”

“You think Ferdinand cares about that?” Claude raised his eyebrows.

“Aside from the fact that his father is the Prime Minister, do you know how big Aegir territory is? Ferdie has a minor Crest too. You know how obsessed with nobility he is. And nobles are all the same. It’s all about prestige and appearance with them.” There was a thread of unfeigned bitterness in Dorothea’s voice. “What they can get from you and what they can get away with.” 

Claude whistled. “I wouldn’t have taken Ferdinand for that kind of guy. Though I guess, don’t get him started on the topic of horses. Or tea. And he and Lorenz are pretty good friends.”

“Oh trust me, Hubie has noticed,” Dorothea giggled. “But honestly, Ferdie doesn’t know what he’s missing out on if you ask me. Hubert has this intensity about him, you know?”

“Uh…” Claude sounded as nonplussed as Linhardt felt. “...Yes?”

“Just look at the way he’s so devoted to Edie,” continued Dorothea dreamily. “Now imagine it in a romantic context. That not-so-secret need for control. That total attention focused completely on you. Shivers!”

Ferdinand made a sound that suggested he was imagining it quite thoroughly. Linhardt let go of his ankle in disgust.

“‘Shivers’ is one way to put it, alright,” Claude said. “Well, there goes the bell!” This said with some relief. “Teach is working on something she’s calling, uh, supersets so I really should get going. I hope you can let Hubert know I’m sorry and I’ll do my best to see what I can do with the chore schedules, but no promises.”

Dorothea sighed gustily. “I certainly will. Poor Hubie. Ferdinand clearly doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

And she swept off with Claude. 

Linhardt re-emerged, arms full of his papers. “Well, that was strange,” he remarked. “I didn’t know Claude and Dorothea even really spoke to each other.” He frowned at the mess of ink still on the table and made a production of moving his books away. 

Ferdinand turned to him, eyes very round. “Linhardt,” he said, voice almost a whisper. “You are here - you must have heard all of that too. So I am not dreaming? All of that was real?”

Linhardt had his own suspicions about the nature of reality in general and that little scene in particular. “Yes, I’m here.”

Ferdinand reached out and pinched him, hard. 

“Ouch, Ferdinand!”

“I am wide awake,” Ferdinand breathed. “And Hubert - he has feelings for me? He wants to court me?”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” Linhardt protested. “If you think you’re dreaming, then I’m the one who’s supposed to pinch yo - okay, off he goes.” 

Ferdinand left the classroom at a clip. Linhardt dabbed at the spilled ink a few times ineffectually with his sleeve before giving it up as a lost cause. He frowned at the ink splotches. Then, with a deep sigh, Linhardt pillowed his head onto his books and went back to sleep.

***

Hubert headed to the kitchens with dread in his heart. After that entirely useless conversation with Professor Manuela, it had been a long day of stalking through Garreg Mach Monastery, ruining as many days as possible to take his mind off Lady Edelgard’s voice echoing in his head. Hubert told himself she had said nothing he did not already believe of himself. Nothing he did not already know - except one:

Ferdinand is head over heels for him.

The memory was searing. 

Hubert was trying to avoid Ferdinand. 

(Not that he ever deliberately sought him out in the first place.) 

(Anyway, it was his duty to keep an eye on threats to Lady Edelgard’s safety.)  

It was working well.  Except for the part where he kept jumping and snapping every time he saw red hair out of the corner of his eye, only to turn and see someone else: Sylvain, Leonie, Annette. In one notable and unfortunate instance, Gilbert Pronislav. 

And now he had to spend an afternoon in the Garreg Mach kitchens with him. Hubert would have thrown himself into the pond if Alois had not been fishing. That insufferably cheerful knight would only pull him right back out again. If only it had been Shamir there.

His ridiculous awareness of Ferdinand had always been a problem. Until now, it had mostly been a mild one. Ferdinand reminded Hubert he had a body: eyes that instinctively looked for a flash of red in a crowd, skin that prickled when they brushed by each other, tongue that felt heavy in the rare silence that fell sometimes when they were alone. It was an irritant, a distraction, but easily pushed aside in the preparations for Lady Edelgard’s vast undertaking.

Ferdinand is head over heels for him.

The realization that Ferdinand - firm-chinned, soft-lipped, mathematically symmetrical Ferdinand - could look at Hubert and feel desire rather than active disgust. Saints.

That awareness was nothing to whatever consumed him now. 

How was Hubert supposed to endure an afternoon chopping onions and salting fish with Ferdinand in the same room? He was suddenly oversensitized; impossibly alive to every shift of Ferdinand’s existence.Their eyes had met only briefly when he surprised Ferdinand and Linhardt in a classroom together. Even that slice of a second set his heart to beating so hard Hubert was astonished his hands didn’t shake. If Ferdinand turned in his sleep, Hubert was sure he would wake two walls away, shaken open from dreams of red hair sliding through his hands, mouth opening eagerly under his. If Ferdinand sneezed in the deepest recesses of Garreg Mach’s unknowable dungeons, Hubert would feel it in his marrow. If Ferdinand even so much as blinked, he would - 

“Hubert! There you are!” 

Hubert startled. Ferdinand had popped out of nowhere. His face was flushed, his eyes very bright. His breath came fast, as if he had been sprinting.

Ferdinand’s eyes flickered over Hubert’s face. Then, uncharacteristically shy, Ferdinand dropped his gaze. Hubert was seized with the sudden unbearable urge to reach out and touch one of Ferdinand’s stupidly, unnecessarily long, golden lashes as they cast faint shadows on his reddening cheeks. He forcibly replaced that desire with one to find the highest point of Garreg Mach and throw himself off it. 

“I am glad we are on kitchen duty together, Hubert,” Ferdinand said.

“You are?” Of course he was! 

Ferdinand is head over heels for him.

Hubert found his heart beating too quickly for comfort as he pushed the doors open and found the dining room uncharacteristically empty. If only he’d known it. Hilda had stationed herself by the other entrance and was threatening anyone who wanted a snack with disembowelment.

“Yes! I feel like I have barely seen you lately,” Ferdinand said, smiling at Hubert as he took down the silver they had to polish. He was friendlier than usual. Or had Hubert never noticed before, how clearly Ferdinand adored him? He was an absolute fool.

Their hands brushed as Ferdinand passed him a handful of cutlery and Hubert startled humiliatingly, dropping the lot.

“Hubert, for goddess’s sake! That steak knife nearly skewered my foot!” That was more normal. What was decidedly abnormal was the smile Ferdinand plastered over his face as he said sweetly, “I mean, please do not worry, Hubert! Let me pick those up for you.”

Before Hubert could say anything, Ferdinand dropped to his knees before him. 

Hubert fought to calm himself. “Ferdinand, are you quite well?”

This time it was Ferdinand who fumbled on the cutlery. “I?” he said, higher-pitched than normal. “I do not know what you could possibly mean!”

“You are acting strangely,” Hubert said. “Is something the matter? If… if there is anything I can do to assist you, I would do my best,” he added quietly.

Ferdinand looked up then and the openness of his expression made something funny happen to Hubert’s knees. “Hubert, I - I thank you,” he said. “I do not know what to say, really. Only that when I found out, it seemed as if I must have known all along.”

Hubert ran through the long list of things that Ferdinand could have found out involving Hubert. He wasn’t screaming for the archbishop. And he probably wouldn’t be smiling like that if he knew about Hubert’s plans for his father. Which meant - 

Ferdinand must have somehow realized Hubert was not unaffected by him. Hubert’s mind blanked in horror.

The truth is that Hubert is a cold, hard, brilliant man.

Ferdinand got to his feet, reaching his hand out towards Hubert. As he did so, Hubert heard Lady Edelgard’s cool, clear voice ring in his head like a sentencing. 

He will break poor Ferdinand’s heart callously.

Later, Hubert would think about all the objections that should have occurred to him instead: Ferdinand was a foppish blowhard, obsessed with an outdated value system that Lady Edelgard and he planned to pull out at the roots and burn, piling as many of their classmates’ families on the bonfire as necessary. He didn’t even like Ferdinand and it mattered not at all that Ferdinand was foolish enough to fall in love with him. Given the span of their interactions, that only served to demonstrate his sheer unsuitability as an ally to Lady Edelgard because she tended to prefer people with some sense of self preservation.

Instead, what occurred to him as Hubert pulled himself away and watched Lady Edelgard’s prediction come true in the confusion on Ferdinand’s face was this: it was one thing to plan to overthrow and imprison a man; it was another to seduce his son while doing it. Particularly when that son had no idea of how thoroughly Hubert planned to rip his future out from under his feet. This was the type of betrayal Lady Edelgard thought him capable of. 

The silence rang in Hubert’s ears as Ferdinand frowned down at his empty hand, then tucked it formally behind his back. Even sombre, his eyes were like golden poppies “Is this about my family, Hubert?” he said.

(“Golden poppies”? Hubert should just present himself to Archbishop Rhea for ritual immolation.)

Hubert blinked, too flustered to wonder how Ferdinand could have divined the direction of his thoughts. “Your family?” he repeated, for lack of anything better. “Yes. And Lady Edelgard. She could not approve of this.”

“I see.” Ferdinand fiddled with a fork. “I understand entirely, Hubert, and I am sorry to have importuned you. I… ah, I should go.”

He cut Hubert a quick bow and left, brushing by him quickly. Hubert felt the brief contact of their arms like a burn. He looked at the piles of silverware, the bags of onions, unsharpened knives. With a garbled sound of frustration, he threw his hands into the air and stormed from the dining hall. 

***

“Oh wow,” said Hilda, as the door opened. “You and Hubert sure got through those dishes qui - hey!”

Ferdinand walked by her without giving any indication he noticed her at all. Hubert followed shortly after but in the opposite direction. His expression did not suggest warmly returned amorous affections. 

“Can I go in there now?” Raphael said. He was sitting beside Hilda, holding her yarn to the ideal amount of tension. 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Ugh, those bozos,” she said. Then she looked at the state of the kitchens. “Son of a - !”

Chapter Text

His poetry extracurricular was usually one of Lorenz’s favourite times of the month. Professor Manuela was notoriously untidy but but while his father would hardly approve, Lorenz thought her office had a charming, bohemian type of clutter: gauzy scarves draped over the chairs, jewelry glittering in tangled heaps, candles stuck in wine bottles (alarming number of those, actually). Lorenz and Ferdinand took turns bringing in new teas to try. Last week Ferdinand had brought in a hand-blended blueberry white peony tea and they had a lively discussion over the correct proportion of hibiscus and elderberry to the delicate, grassy quality of the tea leaves..

It was the only civilized conversation Lorenz could count on all week. He felt particularly in need of it today. Leonie and Raphael had insisted on having an eating contest during lunch and Lorenz didn’t think he would be able to get the gravy stains out of his favourite waistcoat. He had been sitting an entire table away! How Leonie had even managed that -

Lorenz forcibly composed himself. He had contrived a charming elegy to a favorite horse of his childhood and planned to share a flowery black tea, leaves gently blended with calendula petals. He was going to enjoy this afternoon, or Goddess help him -

The first thing Lorenz noticed was the grimace on Manuela’s face, quickly and expertly hidden within seconds. Ferdinand, flushed, continued to read from the piece of paper in his hand.

For the rest of his life, lines from Ferdinand von Aegir’s sole foray into blank verse would randomly reoccur to Lorenz throughout his life. It was a testament to House Gloucester’s training that Lorenz blinked only once, and said, “Good heavens.”

“Oh my,” Manuela said, when it was all over. “That’s. Well. Hmm.”

Ferdinand went redder. “I know I said last week that I would try a sonnet. And, ah, I know that this is not the conventional sonnet structure,” he started to say.

“I suppose it could be considered quite dashing to play with the accepted poetical forms, ” Lorenz said, fluttering a hand to his throat. “Of course, the volta doesn’t have to occur between the eighth to nine lines. But what’s wrong with three quatrains and a couplet? What’s wrong with a rhyme scheme?”

“I was in a troubled state when I wrote this,” Ferdinand said defensively. “And at the very beginning of our poetry salon Professor Manuela said that true poetry flows from the soul, not in the mere presence of an octave and an answering setset!”

Manuela cleared her throat as Lorenz bit back his retort. Namely, that he strongly suspected Manuela had said that because she couldn’t differentiate between an Adrestian villanelle and an Almyran ghazal. Instead he settled for, “Well, certainly! That is precisely why there have been several important refinements to the sonnet form over the ages! For example, you could also employ a series of couplet links in between quatrains -”

Manuela cleared her throat again, more forcefully.

“The two of you, enough! Ferdinand, I thought your effort very...experimental. And innovation is an important backbone of Art.”

Ferdinand shot Lorenz a look of completely undeserved vindication. Lorenz sniffed haughtily. Manuela ignored their little byplay. She was singularly adept at prioritizing her sanity over any kind of educational responsibility, thought Lorenz, a member of the Golden Deer whose courses next week included How to Stab and Punch at the Same Time and Retreat: A Tactical Guide To.

“I have been troubled lately,” Ferdinand said, “so I tried to write from my heart.”

“I mean, you certainly wrote from something, I could tell that much,” Manuela said.

“Troubled? My dear Ferdinand,” Lorenz said. “After writing all of that, I should think so!”

Filled with remorse, he carefully placed the bag of tea on the table - though not too close to Ferdinand’s notes in case something was catching - and knelt before his dear friend. “Have you taken ill?”

“Ah, Lorenz!” Ferdinand said, clasping his hands gratefully. “I am ever thankful for your concern. Alas, this affliction of mine is not something that even the most delicately brewed vulnerary could address.”

“I do hope it isn’t catching,” Lorenz said, delicately detaching his hand from Ferdinand’s. It was a noble’s duty to provide support to all who requested it but he so hated being ill. Nothing about sneezing was dignified.

“My dear Lorenz, I hope you never experience this,” sighed Ferdinand. “And yet, I fear it is an inescapable aspect of the human condition.”

“Oh my saints,” Lorenz said, genuinely alarmed. He looked at Manuela, who was currently massaging her temple with one elegant finger. You would think she’d show a little more concern for her own house student, and she in charge of the school infirmary besides! Not for the first time, Lorenz thought that Garreg Mach would be run very differently if he were the Archbishop of Seiros.

“Maybe we should get started on your work this week, Lorenz,” Manuela said.

“Certainly not! Not until we discover what is ailing Ferdinand!”

Manuela muttered something under her breath. It sounded like, “It’s your funeral, buddy.” Lorenz ignored her.

“Having had my eyes opened to it, I cannot understand why they call it the softer sentiments,” Ferdinand said. “There is nothing soft about it! It feels like - it is as if my whole body is set aflame.”

“‘Softer sentiments’?” repeated Lorenz. “Oh my heavens, Ferdinand. You are experiencing romantic affections for someone? Why, how thrilling! What is causing you such distress? You are a person of such refinement, I cannot imagine that your ardour is not similarly returned!”

“That is the crux of my issue, Lorenz,” said Ferdinand. “I believe that my sentiments are returned but our circumstances -”

“Oh, Ferdinand! Not a commoner.”

“No, he is a noble, Lorenz. And the last person in the world that I should have imagined having feelings for, but to know that he has been harbouring a tendre all this time, despite our surface antipathy!”

Manuela got up abruptly. She took Lorenz’s tea off the table, and started boiling water. Normally Lorenz would have gotten up to interfere. He had very specific opinions about how tea should be brewed. But even as Manuela got the water to a rolling boil instead of the tender simmer this delicate tea required, Lorenz stayed frozen to the spot.

“I am taken aback at my own blindness, Lorenz! I did not realise I had such a capacity for self-delusion yet when I look back on my words and actions over the past few months. Why, my feelings had even made my way into my writing!”

Ferdinand reached for his portfolio by his side. Manuela winced and hastily poured the hot water over the tea-leaves. She did not even let them steep for the appropriate amount of time to allow the calendula fragrance to come to its full maturity before starting to pour the tea out. Yet Lorenz still could not move.

“”A Skull By Candlelight”, “Elegy for a Lost Razor found By a Saint’s Statue.”, ”He Looks At Me Like He Is a Trained Assassin and I Am the Mark.””

“I thought that one was about the Battle of Tailtean!” Lorenz almost wailed.

“I thought it was at the time! it seems I am capable of being deeply blind to my own inclinations. Alas, our circumstances, as I said, are such that consummation,” Ferdinand blushed, “might be devoutly wished but is deeply unwise.”

Behind him, Manuela had uncorked a small brown bottle pulled out from the depths of her desk. She poured a small amount into one cup of tea, and then a rather larger amount into the other cup. She brought the first cup to Lorenz, who clutched it like a benediction from Saint Seiros. She took a big gulp of the other.

“You say Hu - this fella returns your feelings, Ferdinand?” Manuela said, gently guiding Lorenz onto the loveseat next to her. She kept patting his hand. Under the circumstances, Lorenz could not bring himself to resent it.

“Astonishingly so,” Ferdinand said. He looked down like a shy maiden in a ballad. A ballad where Hubert von Vestra was the dashing highwayman. Hadn’t Ferdinand read that one out loud just last week? Lorenz wished he had not given Leonie his scented handkerchief. He could have used it to dab at his brow right around now.

“How do you know?” Lorenz managed. “I must admit, your antipathy was thoroughly convincing to me!” Manuela rolled her eyes at that. Lorenz glared at her.

“I know!” Ferdinand exclaimed. “I could have sworn he hated me! Do you remember that time he followed me to the library and insulted my family and shoved me up against that bookshelf?”

“Yes?” said Lorenz.

“And that time he was so terribly insulting about my hair that I confronted him in the stables and I pushed him into stall door and frightened poor Dorte so badly she reared upwards and nearly kicked him -”

“...yes,” said Lorenz. Manuela was back to massaging her temples.

“And most recently with the greenhouse,” said Ferdinand.

“Yes, yes,” Lorenz said. “And all of this back and forth of attempted assault -”

“Was a result of our thwarted desires!” said Ferdinand. “Yes! And I would never have come to the truth if I had not overheard Dorothea speaking. I overheard her say that Hubert, well, that he wanted to. Ah. ‘Suck my face off’, I believe she put it.”

Lorenz made a noise like a hen being stepped on.

“And it came over me all of a sudden, that, well, I shared those feelings! So of course, I ran off to find Hubert after that,” Ferdinand said, as if that were the natural progression of things instead of a swift jog to the Archbishop for an exorcism. “Luckily, we happened to be on kitchen duty together and I, ah, well. I tried to hold his hand.”

“And you still have two hands!” Manuela said encouragingly.

“Yet I take it the conversation did not go well?” Lorenz felt like his voice was coming from very far away.

“He pulled away,” Ferdinand said glumly.

Manuela made an indignant noise. Lorenz quite agreed. Ferdinand might have a head full of moulding feathers and about the same sense of self-preservation as a depressed lemming but for all that, he had an upright nature, a strong sense of responsibility and made one of the best cups of tea Lorenz had ever tasted.

“I asked him if it was about my family and he said yes,” Ferdinand continued. His perfect posture faltered, shoulders slumping as he unconsciously rubbed his hand over his chest, like he was trying to keep his heart in place. “Hubert said that Lady Edelgard could not possibly approve.”

“Outrageous!” Lorenz sputtered. “Edelgard is proud, certainly, but even she cannot possibly object to her retainer contracting an alliance with the heir of the great house of Aegir!”

Ferdinand looked away. “I thank you, but I fear you have not been keeping up with politics in the Empire. The truth is, my father is far from an honourable man. Edelgard has a strong sense of justice and perhaps she fears that I am too attached to him.”

“Oh honey,” Manuela said. She reached over and put her arm around Ferdinand’s shoulders. “All you poor kids. When I hear about your families! I swear, I wish I could give them a good talking to.”

Lorenz and Ferdinand exchanged a glance, reunited momentarily in horrified fascination at the thought of Professor Manuela giving their fathers a good talking to.

“You are kind, Professor Manuela but as a noble, I must be able to fight my own battles.” Ferdinand did squeeze her hand momentarily in thanks. “I have my own plans for bringing honour back to my family name but in the meantime, they must feel they cannot trust me. Edelgard has very little cause to love the nobility, I am sure, and the nobles of the Adrestian Empire have not lived up to the enormous rights and privileges that have been granted them. Why, Dorothea was saying to Claude -”

“Wait,” Lorenz said. “To whom was Dorothea speaking?”

“Why, to Claude,” said Ferdinand. “Eavesdropping is ignoble, I know. I really ought to find Dorothea and apologize to her for not alerting Claude and herself to my presence but truthfully, I was frozen to the spot. The conversation I heard was so unexpected!”

“Oh, I’ll bet,” said Lorenz with feeling.

“Claude! Claude von Riegan!”

Lorenz came sweeping into the Golden Deer classroom as Claude was halfway through forcing a window open. He pivoted, settled for lounging against the wall instead, and plastered a roguish smile on his face. “Lorenz! Are you alright? What happened? You sound like someone cut the tail off a cat. Sorry,” he added, as Marianne made a noise of distress next to him.

“I am not alright, thank you for inquiring, Claude!” Lorenz was wild-eyed. “I have endured an afternoon of the most unspeakable torments -”

“Hey,” Leonie interrupted, looking annoyed. “I said I would show you how to get gravy stains out of silk, okay? All we need is a little bit of cornstarch -”

“That is not what I am referring to!” said Lorenz. “Though, actually, it certainly did not help anything. In fact, I would argue that the only thing worse than listening to bad poetry is listening to bad poetry with a stained waistcoat! But that is nothing compared to the incomparable torture of listening to bad poetry! With a stained waistcoat! When that poetry is mostly about Hubert von Vestra’s cheekbones!”

“Woah, okay!” Claude walked towards Lorenz cautiously, hands open as if he were soothing a skittish horse. “I can see how it’s been a bad day, buddy.”

“I am not your buddy, Claude! You do not understand the suffering I have gone through. No one can, unless they have had the phrase ‘my stalwart lance disintegrates underneath his piercing gaze’ emblazoned in their mind for all eternity!”

“Oof,” winced Claude as he steered Lorenz out of the classroom. “Well, thank you for that.”

“No less than you deserve!” said Lorenz. “To say nothing of ‘And his hands like ivory spiders/Catching me in shining webs’ -”

They were in a deserted part of the garden by now, which was lucky because the pitch of Lorenz’s voice only kept rising. “Well,” Claude tried. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Lorenz. It sounds like a difficult afternoon for you.” Claude usually kept a stash of candied apricots in his coat for when he needed Lysithea to do something, like go to bed or stop straining her eyes reading in the dark. He offered one to Lorenz now.

“I can see why you came to your ol’ house leader, Claude,” he continued soothingly, “and I just want you to know that I think you showed great fortitude befitting the heir of House Gloucester -”

“Nice try, Claude.” Lorenz smacked the apricot out of Claude’s hand.

“Ouch! Is Teach getting you to grapple now?” Claude massaged his fingers and fixed Lorenz with a pair of wounded eyes. It did absolutely nothing, so he dropped it after a couple seconds. “I thought you were pretty well on your way to the cavalier class.”

“Stop trying to appeal to my ego, Claude. I can see that someone has been speaking to Hilda.”

“It works when she does it,” protested Claude.

“It’s because she’s prettier than you.”

“That is patently untrue!”

Lorenz tossed his head. “I will not deign to argue with you on that point. I want to know just what you mean by interfering with Ferdinand’s affairs in this outrageous manner.”

“What are you talking about?” Claude said, slapping on the wounded eyes again. He pressed a hand to his chest, the way he’d frequently seen Hilda do to great effect. Unfortunately, he didn’t have quite the same bosom so it didn’t land as it ought. “I barely know Ferdinand. I mean, he seems like a nice guy, very into tea and all. I think he likes horses? We’ve spoken maybe twice.”

“Oh, indeed. And in fact, before this afternoon, I would have assumed that you and Dorothea Arnault had only spoken maybe twice as well.” Claude kept his face very straight as Lorenz whirled around, stabbing one long finger towards him. “And yet I hear that the two of you are close enough to be gossiping about the directions of her housemates’ affections! Ever so handily within their earshot! I didn’t realise you could wax on so poetically on Hubert von Vestra’s intensity, Claude.”

“Hey, that was all Dorothea!” Claude said. He paused. “I mean.”

Claude put his hands up in supplication as Lorenz advanced upon him triumphantly. “I thought this is the kind of thing you’d be pleased by, Lorenz. Look at it this way. They’ve been trying to sexily murder each other for months now and Edelgard’s been getting heat for it. So I do this favour for the future Emperor of Adrestia, that’s only going to benefit the Alliance. Mutually beneficial collaboration is the bedrock of successful statesmanship, just like Seteth always says!”

“If Edelgard is willing to toy with the affections of her housemates and future subjects, that is her own business, Claude. But to make both Ferdinand and von Vestra miserable in the name of peace and no overturned bookshelves! I thought you a lazy, irresponsible gadfly but I never thought you capable of actual cruelty.”

A couple days ago, Hilda had reported that kitchen duty hadn’t gone exactly as hoped but none of them had been able to find out why. Hubert had been more than usually unpleasant and was also avoiding Edelgard. Ferdinand moped around, leaning himself picturesquely against trees. They pointedly ignored each other except for when their eyes met, in which case they went very pink and whipped their heads away. Considering they stole glances at each other almost constantly, that was happening a lot. Claude tilted his head, studying Lorenz. Maybe this was another Fodlan thing he could try to understand.

“It’s clear to me that they have feelings for each other,” he said. “Why is making them aware of it cruel?”

Lorenz threw up his hands. “It’s not as simple as that, Claude,” he said. “A romance between two nobles isn’t a dalliance between two individuals. It concerns their families, it affects loyalties. That is exactly what has happened between Ferdinand and Hubert! There is a recent and complicated history between House Aegir and House Hresvelg.”

Claude blinked. “...Right,” he said belatedly. “That whole coup thing.”

He was aware, as he said it, of making the understatement of the century. Power in the Adrestian Empire had already been in the hands of its noble houses when Claude came to Fodlan. He had never known it differently and it was easy to forget it had really only been seven years since the great shakeup.

Lorenz shot him a look. “Yes! That ‘whole coup thing’,” he mimicked. “And of course, where do you think Hubert’s loyalties fall on that? Surely you must see that their infatuation only complicates their lives. Hubert knows perfectly well Edelgard would disapprove of any dalliance. Ferdinand will not press him. He writes poetry instead and such poetry - I’ve never heard the like -”

“Okay, okay! I get the picture,” Claude said hastily, eager to avoid any more of Ferdinand’s writing imprinting itself into his brain.

He put his hands behind his head and tilted his chin to the sky. It was one thing to read about the Insurrection in the forbidden books Seteth squirreled away as quickly as they appeared in the library. It was another thing entirely to realise again, over and over, that the events he’d memorized as background information formed the framework for some of his classmates’ entire lives. Claude sighed. “I get where you’re coming from. Thank you, Lorenz. I mean it. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“- and as for - oh.” Lorenz stopped abruptly and looked at Claude in some surprise. Then he scoffed and tossed his head again, pale cheeks colouring slightly. “Well, of course! I suppose it cannot be expected that you have the same grasp of politics as I, raised from the cradle -”

“Yeah, yeah, you cut your teeth on Thyrsus and your baby blankie was the Gloucester flag,” said Claude. “I said I would fix it, okay?”

Edelgard hated to admit it but Claude was right. Hubert had been staying away from Ferdinand conspicuously. More unexpectedly, and just as annoying, Hubert seemed to be avoiding her as well. That hadn’t happened since their first month at Garreg Mach when Edelgard had pointed out, carefully and pointedly neutral, that Dorothea was none too fond of Ferdinand either and somehow she managed to avoid him instead of antagonizing him into three loud fights a week. Hubert had sulked for days over that.

A part of her had assumed that after the heavily baited traps had been set in place, Ferdinand and Hubert would take care of the rest themselves, on one of the numerous chore dates Claude had painstakingly set up for them. Or in some closet, hopefully not disturbing Cyril too much.

Hubert was still letting himself in her room to organize her things while she was at axe practice. Edelgard sat glumly on the end of her perfectly made bed, the corners tucked into the mattress like an expensive envelope. Hubert had left her desk pristine, entirely devoid of anything except an inkstand and a little box of improbably sharp quills. He sharpened them painstakingly every night to ensure she never suffered the irritation of writing with a blunt instrument. Edelgard missed her friend and contemplating those perfect quill nibs, the missing tightened in her stomach so suddenly it hurt.

Edelgard pushed herself up with an impatient noise. Watching and waiting had never been a strong suit of hers and if Hubert thought he could avoid her forever - well! She was just going to show him.

Claude might not have approved but it turned out striding down the hall and demanding, “Have you seen Hubert?” was not a terrible strategy. Unfortunately, dealing with people’s complaints slowed her down considerably.

“Ugh, I was just minding my own business watering the plants in the greenhouse!” Annette said. “And maybe I surprised him when I walked out from behind the palm but he didn’t have to be so mean about my singing!”

“I wasn’t bothering anyone!” Sylvain said. “Listen, I was trying to have a nice date with this cute girl, okay? And we’re having a good time in the rose gardens and I’m about to lean in and seal the deal, you know how it is. And Hubert walks and he just explodes the teapot! And obviously, I’m like, What the hell, man! And he just looks at me wide-eyed and strides off! No apology or anything!”

“Is it a crime for me to be in the stables?” demanded Leonie, throwing her hands up. “I’m minding my business, patching up some of the saddle blankets - as an aside, you would not believe the stuff people throw away. It only had five holes in it! - and then Hubert turns around a corner and gets so startled he kicks over a bucket. And does he stop to help clean it?”

“No?” tried Edelgard, and was kept there another ten minutes.

Gilbert only gave her a pained look and pointed towards the chapel. It would have been one of the last places she looked and Edelgard approached it reluctantly. Striding in, she tried not to notice the Crest of Seiros picked out under her feet in little shards of amber, the other one looming high over her, cut into the bevelled glass. The low singing, the flicker of candles, the bowed heads, it all made Edelgard’s chest tight with something she refused to identify as panic.

She grit her teeth, tried to take a breath -

“Lady Edelgard.” Hubert’s hand was suddenly at her elbow, steering her towards the large stone terrace and down the shadowy staircase. Out under the blue sky, Edelgard found her heartbeat slowing as the sound of the choir died away.

“Is there something I might assist you with, Lady Edelgard?” Hubert stood before her, refusing to meet her eyes. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He looked, Edelgard thought, like a pouting toddler dressed up as a defensive bat. The sight sent an equal amount of fondness and irritation through her.

“Hubert,” she said. “You’ve been avoiding me. No,” Edelgard held up a hand as he tried to speak. “We have known each other too long to stand on ceremony so do not try to treat me like a ninny. We need to talk about you and Ferdinand.”

“Ferdinand and I, my lady? I was not aware there was anything to speak of,” Hubert said. “If his behaviour has given you offense, Lady Edelgard, let me offer my humblest apologies. It seems I am insufficiently clear to him that he ought never importune you with his attentions. In fact, I shall go to deal with this immediately, right this very second -”

“Oh no you don’t Hubert,” Edelgard said, putting herself squarely in his way. “I’m not about to let you go slinking off. I want to talk to you about Ferdinand’s feelings for you.”

Hubert squawked, “How do you know?” as if she were not the person everyone came to complain to whenever he and Ferdinand had one of their sexually motivated bouts of property destruction.

“I know about everything, Hubert,” because she was also one of the people who had set this whole manipulation in motion. Edelgard kept the guilt out of her eyes as she looked at him.

Hubert took in a deep, unsteady breath. “I should have known that you are too perspicacious to keep anything from, Lady Edelgard.”

“Yes.”

“Of course you know of Ferdinand’s idiotic inclinations, his fatuous affections.” Hubert was turning the colour of soured milk. “Yet, I cannot keep it from you any longer, Lady Edelgard. I am not indifferent to him myself.”

“Oh, Hubert,” said Edelgard, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “This is a total surprise to me.”

“It is my own weakness, my lady!” In what Edelgard felt was a thoroughly overdramatic move, Hubert dropped to one knee before her. “And I will conquer it, if it takes my dying breath to do so! I promise you, my resolve to you and your ideals does not waver.”

Edelgard blinked. “I never doubted -”

“I know what you must think of me! The kind of callous libertine who would take advantage of your trust!”

“What? Of course I never -”

“The kind of wretch who would abuse the power you have invested in me to overthrow and imprison Duke von Aegir and seduce Ferdinand, his innocent young stripling of a son at the same time -”

“Hubert!” Edelgard felt like she could have lived her whole life quite happily without hearing Hubert use the words “seduce”, “Ferdinand” and “innocent young stripling” in the same sentence. “Surely you cannot imagine I think that of you? Please, get up.”

Hubert did not rise to his feet. He did not raise his head and he did not answer. Edelgard wished desperately that he would but he stayed, kneeling, waiting on her judgement the way he never had for the Goddess. Very quietly, he said, “I overheard you speak of me the other day, my lady.”

Edelgard’s own words were suddenly ringing in her ears: Hubert is a cold, hard, brilliant man.

“Oh, Hubert. My old friend.”

You know how Hubert is, he will break Ferdinand’s heart callously.

Once, there had been many children in the palace of Enbarr. Edelgard’s ten other siblings and their friends swarmed the hallways, filled the wide rooms with their chatter: high-spirited youths talking about horses, fashion, books, gossip, philosophy; children always trying to outrun their governesses and teachers, squabbling, playing, and being scolded for getting their gowns dirty.

Hubert took the place of nine others. If he felt them pressed around him as he walked beside Edelgard – and how could he not, when Edelgard felt her sisters’ eyes sometimes when she dressed her hair and her brothers’ hands over hers when she lifted her knife to cut her meat – he bore their weight with a pride that hurt Edelgard’s heart with thankfulness. Yet how easily he believed she would think the worst of him.

Edelgard sank down and took his hand. They were not the kind of friends who touched easily, or at all. Hubert’s eyes went wide with shock but Edelgard refused to let go.

“Lady Edelgard, please -”

“No, you will hear me out, Hubert. Those were foolish words, thoughtlessly said, for a ridiculous reason,” Edelgard said fervently. “Of course our plans for Duke Aegir complicate everything and I should have known that would trouble you. I have not been fair to you, my oldest, dearest friend, and you are family to me, the only family I can really depend upon.”

Now Hubert was bright red and so was she probably. But Edelgard was nothing if not ninety percent psychotic determination and she forged on, “I thought maybe,” she swallowed as the truth burned its way out of her throat, “maybe Ferdinand could bring you some happiness and you would have that on this hideous path I drag you down.”

“My lady,” Hubert said confusedly. “Bringing about the future you imagine is the only happiness I could wish for.”

“That’s not how it should be, Hubert,” Edelgard said. “You deserve more than that. And I - I did not want us to do this alone. I thought that if you and Ferdinand were able to be honest about your feelings for each other, it would increase the chances of him joining our cause.”

There was a moment of silence as Hubert stared blankly at her, mouth working soundlessly. Then he rocketed to his feet.

“What?” he sputtered.

The knock on Claude’s door came as the candles were being put out for the night. He stood up politely as Edelgard entered. The hooded cloak pulled over her head was a bit much. “Claude,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Not at all, princess,” he said. “I was hoping to talk to you as well. Have a seat?”

Edelgard spoke to him the way she sparred, with no flourishes. “I think not. This will not take long.” She pushed the hood off her face. “We must call this off, Claude.”

Claude scrubbed at the back of his head. “Truthfully, I’m inclined to agree,” he said ruefully. “I got a real talking to from Lorenz and it left a bad taste in my mouth about the whole thing.”

“You let Lorenz know about this?” The corners of Edelgard’s mouth turned downwards sharply. “Claude, I counted on some discretion from you. This is troubling.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” Claude said. He decided to hold off on letting her know about Lorenz storming into the Golden Deer classroom, critiquing Ferdinand’s poetry (rhyme, meter, and most notably, subject) in detail and at the very top of his considerable lungs. “He actually got wind of it from Ferdinand in those poetry sessions they have with Professor Manuela. But Lorenz put the pieces together himself.”

Edelgard frowned. “You will keep him quiet.”

It was not a question. The way Edelgard activated her trapezius muscles to push out her chest, lifting her chin as she delivered an order, always made Claude want to absolutely dislocate his shoulders slouching. He settled for leaning back into his pillows with his hands behind his head and smiling lazily at her. Edelgard’s eyebrows raised an infinitesimal inch in disapproval.

“What’s with the hood and cloak getup?”

The eyebrows went higher. Claude did not imagine for a moment that Edelgard was going to leave this conversation without either a promise to silence Lorenz, or the decision to do it herself, but she entertained his change of subject briefly. “It’s for your own safety, if you must know. I fear Hubert has some idea of what’s been happening over the past few weeks. I have him mostly convinced that it was my own invention but Hilda’s involvement naturally had him suspicious.”

Claude straightened. “You think he’s going to go after Hilda?”

“No,” Edelgard said. “Between the two of us, I think he’s a bit intimidated by her. But he has no such hesitations about you and Dorothea, so I would like to keep him from knowing about your involvement.”

“Right,” said Claude. “A little insulting but, y’know, fair. I’ll speak to Lorenz immediately and make sure he doesn’t talk.” He watched Edelgard not even bother to contain a smug smile and added, “Luckily, I think after our talk, I think he mostly went back to his room to have a swoon. Apparently Ferdinand’s poetry is some pretty racy stuff.”

Edelgard’s eyes widened. “Claude, don’t you dare -”

Claude quoted with great relish, and did not neglect to twirl his braid at the relevant line or wiggle his fingers at Edelgard for effect.

Edelgard appeared to be moving through a series of deep breathing exercises, clearly trying to fight off the thoroughly unwelcome mental image of her loyal retainer and best friend as a highwayman ravishing the fair maiden Ferdinand. Claude was delighted to note that it did not seem to be helping.

“That was spiteful,” she said reproachfully.

“As Lorenz noted, there’s more where that came from,” Claude said. “Much, much more, I’m told.”

“If Hubert should ever get wind of this. I cannot be responsible for furthering the psychic damage done to him. I simply cannot,” Edelgard said. “This does not leave the room, Claude. We meet with Hilda and Dorothea tomorrow as soon as possible to end this.”

Clearly considering the conversation over, she moved towards the door.

“Wait,” Claude said.

Edelgard turned and looked at him. Claude suddenly found it difficult to meet her suspicious eyes so he studied his socks instead. “Not that it really matters,” he said slowly, “but I never intended to hurt anyone. Truthfully, well, I thought it would get Teach off your back, you’d owe me a favour and, well, okay. I can’t deny I didn’t think it would be funny. But if getting involved complicated things between you and Hubert and Ferdinand, I’m sorry.”

Edelgard did not say anything for a long moment. Claude risked a glance at her. She was frowning slightly, studying him in the candlelight. Then she nodded. “You did not force my hand, Claude. I entered into this bargain with you willingly. Your apology is unnecessary.”

Edelgard opened the door. As she stepped out, she added, “But it is appreciated.”

Two days later, Hilda was still pissed. She hated kitchen duty. The only thing that ruined her manicures faster than hot soapy water was salt fish and guess which chore involved both and lots of it? As it happened, she also hated weeding, cleaning out the stables, organizing the library and supply runs. She’d only gone along with Claude’s little scheme because she got to outsource all of that work!

“Right!” said Dorothea. “And it’s outrageous, having to clean up after a pair of idiot nobles who get to just run off to have a sulk or masturbate or both! That is not what I came to Garreg Mach for!”

“Totally!” Hilda said. “I was supposed to have tea with Marianne!”

Following Ferdinand and Hubert’s little stunt at the dining hall kitchens, Hilda had stood there frowning at the mess as Raphael peaceably made himself a sandwich.

“Hilda! How’d it go - oh.” Dorothea sauntered casually by, as if she were here by chance instead of being a born rubbernecker if Hilda had ever seen one. She had fallen silent at the look on Hilda’s face and peeped into the hall. “Well! I take it the cutlery and onions on the floor are not the consequences of a hurried tryst?”

“Nah, that’s just the lunch rush,” Hilda said. “Oh well, there’s always next week. C’mon, let’s get out of here before -”

Out of nowhere, Professor Byleth’s hand had appeared on her shoulder. Her other hand was full of fish.

“Oh hi Professor!” Hilda said, trying to inch away. Byleth’s fingers tightened. “If you want Ferdinand and Hubert, I think they went that way.”

Byleth only said, “I think not.”

Then had she turned to look at Dorothea as well.

“Professor!” Dorothea gamely fluttered her eyelashes though Hilda could have told her to save the energy. “Why, if you wanted to ask me to dinner, you only have to ask.”

“We’ll all have dinner,” Byleth had said. “After you two help me clean up.”

The memory made Hilda furious even now. “And how is it fair that Professor Byleth brought in more fish to prep?” Hilda said as she and Dorothea walked down the corridors. “That’s not fair! Who eats that much fish?"

“Well,” said Dorothea, with some satisfaction. “At least we got our own back today.”

“Yeah!” said Hilda. “It was good thinking on your part.”

“It would have been impossible without your quick action,” demurred Dorothea. “Oh, there’s Claude!”

He came barrelling towards them with unusual speed.. “I’ve been looking all over for you!” Claude said in a hushed, urgent whisper. “Edelgard’s waiting in the usual spot. C’mon, we’ve got something we need to tell you.”

“Great, us too! Listen, Claude -”

“Shhh, Hilda! Tall skinny pitchers have big ears!”

“What? Okay, but Claude, listen -”

He hustled them into the classroom where Edelgard paced back and forth. She looked up sharply as they entered and then visibly relaxed. “Good, you found them. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“Edie,” Dorothea started but Edelgard put a hand up.

“I am sorry but this cannot wait.” Edelgard looked towards Claude and he nodded at her. Like an emperor surveying her troops, Edelgard tucked her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. “Hilda. Dorothea. Your service has been deeply appreciated but is required no longer. We’ve decided to end this.”

“What?!”

“Yup, I’m sorry this is so unceremonious,” said Claude. “But I think it’s better this way. Also, it goes without saying but we should take our involvement in this to our graves. Before Hubert puts us in them.”

“Wait,” said Hilda. “Why?”

“I know this is a disappointment,” said Edelgard. “Trust me, I wish it had not turned out the way it has. But it has been brought, forcibly, to my attention that meddling in a person’s personal affairs is inappropriate.” She gave a baffled shrug. “Who’d have thought it?”

Hilda and Dorothea exchanged a look.

“Right, it’s disappointing but like Edelgard said, apparently ‘manipulating your classmates’ affections’,” Claude made quotation marks in the air, “is ‘unbecoming behavior’. So we pull back from interfering with Ferdinand and Hubert, effectively immediately.”

“The thing is,” Hilda said. “Well.”

“We might have,” Dorothea winced at the expression on Claude and Edelgard’s faces, “locked them in a closet about an hour ago?”

Ferdinand thought the shock of his true feelings for Hubert could have lasted longer. The fact that Hubert von Vesta was capable of his own desires outside those of Edelgard’s? And that one of those desires was Ferdinand himself?

It had been a gutshot of something that felt like glory, like wonder with a queasy edge to it.

Currently, it felt like he had ashes in his belly. Surely people did not get over the revelation that they wanted their archnemesis’s tongue down their throat quite so quickly? But now that he realised that it was not completely platonic to become singularly obsessed with the way Hubert looked in candlelight, the way it made skull-shadows of his cheeks and brow, the knowledge had simply slotted something into place for Ferdinand. Coming late and all at once, it slid into him the way a sword found its sheath.

Hubert wanted him; Hubert would not have him and Ferdinand was certainly not going to make him.

The librarians no longer winced if Hubert entered while Ferdinand was there reading. Professor Byleth’s plants were thriving. Professor Hannemann stopped flinching every time Ferdinand walked past his Crest Analyzer.

It was awful.

Understanding exactly what he was missing, Hubert ignoring him was worse than before. No more threats hissed into his ear. No more promises of being strangled by long fingers. No more shoving a lean body into a wall or being shoved in turn. The other day, he had asked Hubert to pass him a quill and he had done so without a single comment on how Ferdinand should have been better prepared for class. Ferdinand sighed wistfully.

(Though the quill had been particularly sharp and fine, one from Hubert’s personal collection rather than from the shabby classroom stash. Ferdinand had it yet, safe in his desk drawer.)

Ferdinand trudged towards the classroom and tried to convince himself that forbidden love was terribly romantic but it was mostly just a lot more boring than sexually charged, aggressive enmity. Hubert came down the stairs at the same time and there was an awkward pause as they met.

Ferdinand tried a small smile to show that he bore him no ill will. Hubert only ducked his head, the tips of his ears pink. It was adorable, thought Ferdinand. He wanted to kiss those pink tips, he realised even more dismally.

They walked in silence for a little while.

“I hope Edelgard is well?” Ferdinand said politely.

“She is,” confirmed Hubert. And then, immediately suspicious, “Is there any particular reason she ought not to be?”

“Good heavens, Hubert,” Ferdinand said, scowling. “I know you live in a constant state of ridiculous paranoia but do you truly think that I would harm Edelgard because she stands in the way of the consummation of our affections?”

“Our what?” said Hubert, going from pink to puce at a frankly alarming speed.

“Well, if it were up to me,” Ferdinand said reasonably, “I would like to explore this attraction that we have discovered. But I understand that there is enmity between House Aegir and House Hresvelg and since your loyalties clearly lie with Edelgard, it makes sense that it is not so easy. But I certainly do not hold this against Edelgard!”

Hubert’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He looked, thought Ferdinand, like a kissable fish. Perhaps something was terribly wrong with him, as Lorenz said.

“Do you think this is a joke?” hissed Hubert. “Do you seek to toy with me, von Aegir? Or do you have some type of very peculiar death wish because that is the only reason I can think of for you daring to bring the topic up in such a way!”

“I only hoped Edelgard was well!” protested Ferdinand. “You were the one who immediately jumped to the most insulting interpretation and I think any upstanding noble would strenuously object to the suspicion that they would commit a murder most foul for the sole purpose of removing an obstacle to their beloved!”

Hubert looked like there were so many words he wanted to splutter about that he didn’t know where to start. Ferdinand looked huffily away from him as they went down the second flight of stairs and turned around a corner where Dorothea stood by, gazing into a large closet mournfully. She brightened up distinctly at the sight of them. “Ferdie, Hubie! Perfect timing, I was hoping that someone would help me get something out of this inconveniently tall and cluttered thing!”

“Of course!” Ferdinand said immediately. “Anything to assist you, I would gladly do. By the by, Dorothea, I cannot think it right that I do not proffer my sincerest apologies to you for eavesdr-ow!”

He fell in a crash of brooms and buckets. Ferdinand blinked dazedly. Dorothea couldn’t have - why in heavens would she -

“Dorothea!” barked Hubert. “I just saw you wilfully trip Ferdinand and shove him into the closet!”

“I didn’t realise that would be such a problem for you, Hubert,” she said, twirling a long coil of deep brown hair around her finger. “Why, I’ve heard you plan to do much, much worse to him yourself and here’s your chance.”

Ferdinand thought he saw a flash of pink and then Hubert was falling over on top of him in a tangle of arms and legs and cursing. The closet door slammed shut with an audible click. “Saints!” said Ferdinand. “Hubert, are you hurt? I support Dorothea got wind of my churlish behaviour somehow and this is the result.”

Hubert muttered something to himself. It sounded like, “How are you still finding him attractive?” Something that felt like a trowel was poking into Ferdinand’s back and he started trying to squirm out from under Hubert.

“Stop that!” snarled Hubert. “What are you doing?”

“I am trying to get up!” snapped Ferdinand. He groped in the darkness for some kind of hold to push himself up.

“Ferdinand!” His hand was hastily shoved away. Ferdinand stilled as he realised what he had been about to grab.

“My apologies, Hubert.” Ferdinand swallowed. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark but he could feel Hubert’s quickened breath against his ear, their chests pressed together, one of Hubert’s long thighs pressed between his splayed legs. Oh Goddess (yes) no. “Ah, do you think we can manage to stand together? It is dreadfully uncomfortable right now.”

Hubert grunted his assent and Ferdinand tried not to notice how close they were as they slowly maneuvered themselves into a position where Ferdinand didn’t have multiple dustpans trying to dislocate his spine. Finally, they were both standing somewhat upright. Ferdinand pressed against the back of the closet, Hubert’s hands braced on either side of him for balance.

“I just cannot imagine why Dorothea would trap us like this,” Ferdinand said unhappily. “I did not think she disliked me so.”

“Hmph.” After a long silence, Hubert sighed. Ferdinand shivered as he felt that warm breath against his cheek. “I… believe she was doing so at someone else’s direction. That someone insisted they acted alone but given these events, I find that increasingly hard to believe.”

“Edelgard! What could she possibly have to do with this?”

Another long pause. “I didn’t say it was Edelgard.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes. “Who else could it be, Hubert? If it were anyone else, their guts would be strung up and down the entrance hall. Now, why would she do this when she disapproves of any alliance you and I might have?”

A thump occurred somewhere above him. Ferdinand deduced that Hubert had dropped his forehead against the wooden back of the closet. It also brought him closer to Ferdinand as Hubert’s chin almost brushed the top of his red hair.

“I misspoke originally,” Hubert said begrudgingly. “It seems I misunderstood. She - she does not actually disapprove.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand wondered if Hubert would be able to feel the way his heart quickened with their chests pressed together like this. “B-but my family?”

“Lady Edelgard’s central thesis is that we are more than our families.”

“But they shape us irrevocably. How would I be Ferdinand without House Aegir?” Ferdinand felt Hubert’s body tense angrily above him as he spoke. “I do not believe you can change the future by erasing the past. How could I want to be a better Prime Minister than my father without his example?”

“Your miserable father -” Hubert snarled.

“Is not a good man,” Ferdinand interrupted, and felt Hubert’s shock. There was something about speaking like this, close together in the darkness, that made the truth easier to admit even to Ferdinand himself. He had not articulated his feelings aloud like this, even to himself. “I know. His greed has caused him to stray far from the righteous path.”

It hurt to say. Once, his father had been his hero. Ferdinand let his head fall back. “When I graduate, I plan to depose him,” he said in almost a whisper. It was strange to say this aloud, to Hubert of all people.

“You do.” There was something questioning, almost disbelieving in Hubert’s voice. With his eyes adjusted to the dark, Ferdinand could see how intensely Hubert watched him.

“I know that my family has been the cause of unhappiness to Edelgard’s,” Ferdinand continued. Hubert’s focus, the way he studied Ferdinand’s face, was making it hard to breathe but he needed to say this, “I just want you to know that I am sorry for this. One day, I would like to apologize to her myself.”

“I do not know how you can be sorry for it when you do not know anything about it, Ferdinand.” This was not said in anger. Hubert’s brow creased slightly as he answered like he was resolving some unspoken question in himself. “The apology to Lady Edelgard, without understanding the breadth of the offense, would be useless.”

Ferdinand contemplated that. “Well,” he said. “I hope one day she will feel comfortable enough to share it with me. In the meantime, I will endeavour to earn her trust and respect, so that I may offer a full apology on behalf of my house one day. I can see it is a difficult topic for you as well, and I will not bring it up again.”

Hubert made a stifled noise. “Saints,” he said. “Ferdinand. Must you always be like this?”

“I beg your pardon? Like what?”

“This!” growled Hubert. “Thoughtful. Kind! Could you try to be stupid and arrogant and greedy like your father for just five minutes?”

Ferdinand made an insulted noise but Hubert did not stop:

“Sometimes I try to convince myself that you will go bald when you are older just so I can try to talk myself out of -”

And he crashed his mouth against Ferdinand’s. Ferdinand gasped and Hubert took the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. Instinctively, Ferdinand fisted his hands into the front of Hubert’s jacket, dragging him closer. Hubert’s hand groped at Ferdinand’s thigh, hoisting it up and Ferdinand looped his leg around Hubert’s waist, pulling him closer still.

It took them a few moments to align noses and lips and teeth - at one point, Ferdinand might have bitten Hubert’s chin - but then Ferdinand’s mouth was opening greedily under Hubert’s. He moaned as Hubert drove his tongue deeper into his mouth, arching up against the wonderful pressure of Hubert pressing down against him. Ferdinand dragged his hands down Hubert’s back. He increasingly felt like he was going to die if he couldn’t get at Hubert’s bare skin. Hubert was tugging at his stupid jabot and tearing open his collar and Ferdinand groaned thankfully as he began to press kiss after kiss to Ferdinand’s throat

“So loud,” hissed Hubert, nipping at his tender skin and drawing another gasp from Ferdinand. “I knew you would be, knew you’d be beg-”

“AUGH!”

Hubert and Ferdinand jerked apart in a clatter of broomsticks and dustpans as light flooded the closet. As Hubert pulled back, Ferdinand lost his footing and slid down the back wall of the closet, landing with his ass in a pail, while Hubert continued to hold on to his thigh.

“C’mon now,” Cyril said, arms crossed, foot tapping, just as Claude and Edelgard stampeded around the corner, followed hotly by Dorothea and Hilda. “Don’t ya have dorm rooms for this kinda thing? Look, you’ve put a dent in that bucket.”

“Claude!” Lorenz accosted him later by the fishing pond, waving a sheaf of paper. In looping letters, Claude could just make out the title page: “Stand Close And Whisper In My Ear, Dark and Noble Creature of the Night”. “Claude! You said you would fix it but this is fifteen pages, Claude!”