Chapter Text
The ball had been wonderful. Ferdinand had spent most of it flitting between crowds and conversations, enjoying the occasion, and sharing the moment with the many friends he had made over the year.
But the highlight of his night, nay, his whole moon, had been Dorothea.
He asked her to the ball over tea, shortly after the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. To his surprise, she had said yes. He had expected her to decline with some sarcastic comment, but her acceptance came all too eagerly.
For a time, Ferdinand was suspicious of her intent. Since the beginning of the year, she had been hostile towards him, reserving a unique hatred for him and him alone. He made efforts to bridge that gap and garner her approval, through earnest conversation and displays of his character, and his labors had finally borne fruit.
She no longer sighed in disgust when he greeted her, rolled her eyes when he flattered her, and within the past few months, she had begun to smile at him over their talks at tea.
But he could tell she still despised him. He could tell she was being dishonest when she flirted with him. He could tell she was mincing words around him constantly. She had barriers and boundaries about her life that he could not break down, and she guarded them ferociously. No matter how close they got, she could not be herself around him.
And she still insisted on playing the same old game with him; a battle of wits and wordplay that left Ferdinand on edge over every discussion.
She would mark her sentences with pointed, double-edged remarks about the nobility, and by association, Ferdinand. And every time, he would need to provide a respectful, dignifying, and charming retort. She always seemed impressed by his quick-thinking, and he enjoyed the mental workout. The rest of the Black Eagles found entertainment in eavesdropping upon their verbal duels, listening with interest at the two birds trying to outmatch the other’s song.
Ferdinand appreciated their relationship, but he found himself exhausted. Every conversation was a battle, and he needed to perform well each time or risk losing his ground. His unwavering confidence, his virtue, and his character all needed to be impeccably maintained at all times. If he faltered, if he broke, she would win the game.
He would not break. He could not break.
For if he broke, he feared that she would not be willing to play again.
His worries had been assuaged by the ball. The night itself was a blur to Ferdinand; he remembered the cheerful discussions, the watered-down punch (likely Seteth’s doing,) and the many dances he shared with her.
The Ball now concluded; Ferdinand joins the rest of the Black Eagles in the Greenhouse. The whole lot had snuck out with a few bottles of liquor, courtesy of Hilda, for a spot of merrymaking.
The Greenhouse provided the ideal location for secret hangouts: It was not often patrolled, and what few members of the faculty passed by could be easily seen through the windows. The Greenhouse was also warded with a magic that produced a steady warmth, maintaining the tropical environment within. The heat fogged up the windows, preventing onlookers from gazing in and seeing any miscreants.
And now, with the formal event concluded, he found himself sitting next to the grate that split the greenhouse’s flowerbeds, observing a staring contest between Hubert and Petra.
“C’mon Hubert, you got this!” Caspar hollered from the sidelines, rousing Ferdinand from his thoughts.
“Do not be interrupting!” Petra snapped, speaking out of the corner of her mouth facing Caspar. The rest of her face remained static and emotionless, focused wholly on Hubert’s eyes.
Edelgard sat between them, playing referee while holding one of the bottles. Bernadetta, usually introverted, was spectating with bated breath, her eyes excitedly flitting between the contestants.
Caspar was on his feet, bounding up and down with his fists constantly pumping the air. Every eye movement evoked a whoop or a cheer from him, no doubt throwing the participants off their game.
Linhardt, up way past his bedtime, had very little to drink. After the first few shots, he was out like a light.
Flayn was invited, but Seteth had kept a close eye on her all night, preventing her from sneaking out.
Dorothea had drunk the most out of all of them. And now, she was leaning very closely against Ferdinand’s shoulder.
Maybe a little too close.
Ferdinand’s mind flitted from the game to Dorothea’s hair tickling his neck. He tensed up. They had been in contact during the dances, but now she was sprawled everywhere. Her back was supported by the arm he leaned back on, her hand rested on his thigh, her head was cocked and cozied on his collarbone.
Such a display was unlike her. She hated him. She had said so herself.
So why is she all over me?
He felt his heart beating faster. A bead of sweat began to roll down his forehead. His breathing became more erratic.
She’s up to something. This must be another one of her games.
He prayed for the goddess for a distraction, a reason to break the embrace. His face went red. The balmy climate of the Greenhouse and the warmth of the alcohol flushed him with heat.
Aha! He thought to himself. I’ve been given an out!
He turned his head gently, taking care to not let her head slip from his shoulder.
“Dorothea,” he whispered softly, “it is rather warm here. Perhaps you would be more comfortable leaning against one of pillars? I warrant the cold stone would feel delightful.”
Dorothea let out a muffled giggle into Ferdinand’s collar. “No, Ferdie, I think I’m good right here.” She playfully nuzzled herself closer, shifting almost all of her weight against him.
Ferdinand cursed under his breath, quietly enough that even she couldn’t hear.
He began to sweat even more, as a familiar wave of stress slipped over him. He was being judged. She was testing him. Gauging every word, every breath, every shift and twitch he made against her.
What am I supposed to do now?
Hubert blinked.
The rest of the greenhouse (except Linhardt) roared in applause. Dorothea sat up suddenly, startled by the racket.
Ferdinand seized the moment. He swiftly bounded to his feet, joining in on the cheer. Once the commotion died down, he wordlessly started towards the door, praying silently to the Goddess that none would notice his egress.
“And just where are you off to, Ferdinand?” Edelgard asked.
Ferdinand’s heart skipped a beat. He pivoted on his heels to a greenhouse of onlookers.
“I…” he started, desperately searching for an excuse “…need to get a breath of fresh air. It is awfully humid in here, and I’m beginning to feel overheated in these clothes.” He tugged at the sleeves of his suit, gesturing to the many layers he still wore.
“Very well.” Edelgard said. “Be mindful: I expect Seteth to be extra vigilant tonight.”
Ferdinand nodded graciously and turned to the door again.
“Will you be needing company, Ferdie?” Dorothea chirped.
He nervously laughed. “No, not at all. I do not expect to be gone for long.” He didn’t turn back when he said it, but he could feel Dorothea’s frown digging into the back of his head.
He quickly opened and closed the door, careful not to let much of the warm air out. He hastily scampered up the steps beyond the dining hall and searched for a quiet spot in the gardens.