Work Text:
Byleth dropped the bucket full of feed at the edge of the paddock, stopping to wipe the sweat beading on her forehead. Her pegasus, Astra, watched from several paces away, head cocked curiously.
Byleth liked to arrive early, before the rest of the Strike Force mustered for breakfast and training. There was something about the pre-dawn silence that she found soothing, having learned to carve out little moments of tranquility within the upheaval of war.
And she wasn’t the only one with a penchant for stealing quiet at odd hours: a whinny from a nearby stall revealed Hubert fishing a carrot out of an old grain sack for Hades — an enormous specimen of a war horse with a shockingly charming disposition and a penchant for chewing on the hair of anyone that wandered too close.
The green of Hubert’s eyes flashed in the not-quite darkness. Byleth finished dumping the feed into the trough on the other side of the fence, aware of Hubert’s gaze on her the entire time, but whenever she turned to look his back was to her.
She shrugged it off, tossing the empty bucket aside. Hubert had seemed a different man after she’d returned— physically he’d filled out, and she’d been meaning to thank whoever had convinced him to cut his hair, but beyond that he seemed quicker to trust now that he knew where his classmates stood. She would still occasionally catch him watching her; however, there was no longer any suspicion or malice in his gaze. A far cry from the days when it seemed that he felt any moment spent out of his sight put her at risk of plotting an insurrection. Had he chosen now to feed the horses because he knew she would be coming by for an early flight?
Byleth kicked the food trough, forcing her gaze away from Hubert when she realized she’d been staring. Astra had ignored the fresh feed; there was hay leftover from an earlier feeding, but the pegasus vastly preferred the grain mixed with vegetable scraps from the dining hall, so why wasn’t she—
Astra gave an excited whinny and Byleth looked to see her trotting to the other end of the enclosure, sticking her head over the fence and snorting impatiently. Astra pawed at the dirt when Hubert didn’t respond to her antics.
Leaning over the fence as far as her long neck could reach, Astra shoved her nose between Hubert’s jacket and cloak, snuffling loudly enough for Byleth to hear from halfway across the stables. Whatever it was she was after, she was fast — she’d pilfered a small pouch from Hubert’s cloak and darted off with it before he could snatch it back.
Byleth gave a quick whistle, which at any other time would have had Astra face-first in a feed bucket, but was ignored.
Not wanting Hubert to have to give chase to her thieving mount — though she had to admit the thought of him trying to wrangle Astra into submission was an entertaining one — and especially not wanting to risk Astra eating whatever poison Hubert kept tucked away on his person, Byleth bounded over the fence and after her circus animal of a pegasus.
The battle was short. Byleth cornered Astra at the opposite end of the paddock; the pegasus’s eyes were wild and her wings unfurled again and again in agitation as she guarded that little pouch as if it were her own foal.
“Astra,” Byleth snapped, inching forward when it seemed the pegasus wouldn’t try to escape into the air, “drop it.” When she instead backed further into the fence, Byleth took a calculated risk and lunged for it, fingertips catching on the bag just as Astra yanked her head back.
A ripping sound and a shower of little brown pellets.
Several bounced off Byleth’s head before she caught one. Coffee beans? She smelled it, face scrunching up at the distinct odor. Coffee beans.
Byleth glanced over her shoulder as Astra happily worked at plucking each individual bean out of the grass. Hubert stood at the fence, arms crossed and a smirk on his face as he watched the chaos unfold. He hadn’t seemed in a particular hurry to retrieve his pouch, and now she understood why. He hopped the fence — impossibly graceful for a man of his height— and made his way over to her.
“Hubert!” she shouted as he approached, scooping a handful of beans with a healthy amount of dirt mixed in back into the remnants of the bag, “want to explain that?” She pointed to where Astra was snuffling through the thick weeds, searching for any morsel left behind.
He shrugged. “Not particularly. Care to explain why you were staring at me?”
It was impossible to tell how many Astra had eaten, but at least there weren’t any more lingering in plain sight. She sighed and shoved the bag into Hubert’s arms. She didn’t know why she’d thought he’d not notice her staring. “For as much time as you spend with Hades I almost believed you had listened to anything I said about caring for horses,” she said instead of answering his question.
Hubert tucked the pouch back in his coat, but it was so damaged that Byleth imagined that he would be cleaning dirt and ground coffee beans out of it for a week.
“Do you give these to Hades? Seriously Hubert, you can’t just give horses coffee.” Byleth laughed. That explained some things if true. “Is that why he’s awake when I’ve seen you groom him in the middle of the night? You’re keeping your horse as caffeinated as yourself?”
Hubert crossed his arms again and wasn’t looking at her. “I did not know.” He shook his head, a blush creeping up to his ears. “I wasn’t aware that coffee beans could jeopardize their health,” he said. “I’ll be more mindful of any treats I give them in the future.”
Oh. He had been sneaking Hades coffee. But how did Astra know to look for—
He’d said they. He’d been feeding her too. She imagined him carefully divvying up a bag of beans between Hades and Astra and felt herself flush.
It had likely been going on for some time, too, for Astra to become that possessive over the treat. He looked too embarrassed for it to have been a purposeful attempt at poisoning — and she could not imagine the man he was now capable of such a despicable thing.
“How would you like to feed her properly for once?” she asked. Byleth dug out an apple from her bag and tossed it to Hubert.
“If you insist.” He caught it with a thinly veiled grimace.
The way Hubert was side-eyeing that apple made Byleth wonder if he’d ever eaten one in his life. He rarely made an appearance for meals in the dining hall with the troops — usually only at Edelgard’s behest — and for a time Byleth had been sure that he didn’t actually require food, preferring to sustain himself on the souls of the innocent. She repressed a snicker.
He hesitated, but Astra made the decision for him and came trotting over to investigate what he had in his hand. She looked almost disappointed, but when no coffee beans were forthcoming she nudged the apple with her nose before crunching into it.
Byleth watched Hubert hold the apple patiently as Astra nibbled at the flesh. She smiled. This gentleness was unexpected given his self-professed indifference to animals at the Academy. Indifference bordering on neglect; it had taken months to get Hubert to acknowledge that the responsibility for Hades was his after passing his dark knight certification. And he still avoided the stables during the day, when any of his classmates might witness him interacting with his steed with anything but indifference. Hades was one thing, but she never would have imagined he’d spent enough time in the stables for her own Astra to associate him with treats.
“I didn’t know you liked pegasus,” she said as he ran his fingers through Astra’s off-white mane. He seemed far away, lost in his own mind.
“Hm?” He turned to face her with one last scratch behind Astra’s ear. “They’re magnificent creatures.” He smiled, a hint of flush creeping up his cheeks, and Byleth’s mouth went dry suddenly.
She nodded, a dumb smile plastered on her lips.
“I admit, I have always dreamt of what it must be like to see the world from the back of a pegasus,” he said, giving Astra’s nose an affectionate stroke. His face fell. “Forgive me. It’s nothing but a childish fancy I’ve held onto for too long.”
The rawness of Hubert’s expression threatened to carve a hole in her chest. He was an exceedingly private man; she couldn’t imagine many others were privy to this kind of heartfelt admission. Warmth spread through her at the thought that he’d chosen to share his secret with her.
“I can take you,” she blurted out before she even had a chance to think about it, and if the way the color drained from Hubert’s face was any indication he hadn’t expected it either. Her stomach dropped. She’d obviously overstepped. “That is, if you have the time…” she trailed off. Perhaps it was for the best. She was on a strict schedule today and needed to find him a suitable gift before the day was— wait.
“Actually,” she said, placing a hand to her chin, “today’s your birthday.” It wasn’t a question.
“It is.” He shifted his weight uneasily, giving her a look that clearly said that he was not going to like whatever she was planning.
Her earlier smile crept back onto her face. A bouquet of flowers would await him on his return to his quarters — an arrangement of blue iris framing a white lily in a simple glass vase — but she’d spent restless nights wanting to do something more. On the scant occasions she’d gifted him with a floral arrangement he’d leveled a curious stare at the gift and then her, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do with it.
Despite that, the times she’d wandered past his rooms — the times he’d been careless enough to leave the door open, anyway — the flowers had always been on his desk, next to the candle that guided him through long nights of studying and subterfuge. But the pull to find something for him that was truly remarkable and unique had embedded itself in her chest, refusing to budge even in the face of more pressing matters.
This was perfect.
“Consider this my gift to you, then,” she said.
Was it possible for him to get even paler? Hubert took a step back and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Even if I could afford the time—”
“You can blame me if Edelgard wants to know where you went—”
“—Astra would never allow me to ride—”
They both stopped when they realized they were talking over each other. A charged silence—the length of a heartbeat—passed between them before Hubert cleared his throat. “You know men cannot ride a pegasus,” he finally said.
Byleth closed the distance between them to place her hand on Astra’s nose next to Hubert’s. “I can promise she’ll behave as long as I’m with you.” He opened his mouth to speak and she cut him off before could come up with another excuse: “And she can handle both of us. We won’t be flying combat maneuvers so it won’t be any extra strain for her.”
His hand tightened in Astra’s mane but he didn’t respond, his expression contorted as if an internal battle raged within.
She moved her hand to cover his, leading it through Astra’s mane and down her back. Hubert’s expression contorted into something unreadable—flushed and averting his eyes—but he didn’t yank his hand away like she might have expected of him.
“Please,” she said, whether for his benefit or hers she no longer knew. “Let me do this for you.”
“Very well.” He sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. For having just been offered the chance to fulfill a childhood dream, he looked more like a man being guided to his doom. But he didn’t change his mind as Byleth busied herself preparing.
Saddling Astra was quick work; Byleth snuck a glance at Hubert when she knelt to cinch the straps at the pegasus’ belly— he was staring at the sky with a startlingly intense look on his face. As if he were on the battlefield and it was a foe to be conquered.
She clambered to her feet and gave Astra a slap to her haunches, the resulting whinny snapping Hubert out of his thoughts. He reluctantly followed Byleth as she climbed onto Astra’s back, settling in behind her with his legs stretched out just behind the wings.
Byleth waited until Hubert had stopped wriggling about in the saddle before snapping the reins and sending Astra into a slow walk— a warmup stretch to not only allow Hubert to adjust to the differences between a pegasus and a horse— a pegasus as light and nimble as Astra no doubt felt much less sturdy than the enormous war horse that he was accustomed to— but to allow Astra to stretch her wings and acclimate herself to the strange new weight distribution of a second person.
The walk graduated into a canter as they circled the small paddock, Astra’s wings flexing in anticipation. Byleth could feel Hubert’s tension behind her, but she was confident she could control the takeoff well enough to keep him stable. By their third pass he’d relaxed enough for her to feel comfortable spurring Astra on.
“Ready?” she called out as a signal that they were about to begin, pulling up on the reins just as Astra approached the fence and not waiting for his response. The pegasus was nearly vibrating with the anticipation of being in the air, her canter more of a gallop in the last few strides. Enormous white wings exploded out to the sides and in the next step they were airborne.
Their ascent was gradual, Byleth keeping a tight grip on the reins. The familiar lurch of her stomach from Astra’s usual full-tilt takeoffs was absent, and Byleth found herself missing the almost weightless sensation of her pegasus darting toward the sky at breakneck speed.
Even this controlled ascent was too much for Hubert, however. He shifted about behind her, unable to find a comfortable position for more than a few moments at a time.
“Hubert?” she called tentatively, struggling to be heard over the wind whipping at their faces and wrapping the reins around her hand to better control Astra’s speed. “Are you okay? You can hold onto me if it’ll help.”
He reached for her almost instantly. He grabbed her gingerly, awkwardly, as if he didn’t quite know what to do with his hands. The part of her that indulged in wishful thinking noted that the way he held her was tighter than she’d expect of someone just trying to stay balanced. She squashed it — he was new to flying.
A low groan from behind her, shattering her thoughts. “I’m fine,” he said.
They cleared the treeline, Astra leveling herself out with little direction from the reins. They had done this enough times for it to be almost instinct now.
Byleth straightened in the saddle and took a deep breath. The crisp dawn air smelled even more of pine up here, reminding her of the forests she would often make camp in with her father as they traveled . All of Garreg Mach was visible from this height, the fortress-like monastery sprawled out below them, and the mountains seemed within easy reach, their snow capped peaks dotted with evergreen like a painting given life.
“What do you think?” she asked Hubert. “It’s not Enbarr, but you have to admit there’s something about the Cathedral in this light. Almost makes up for the giant hole in it.” She laughed, but Hubert only groaned behind her.
He’d never actually let go. Now that they’d mostly stopped moving — supported by the even rhythm of Astra’s wings — she’d expected him to retreat, awkward or anxious or even haughty. But he was still there. Every little movement of his fingers against her waist sent a thrill through her.
Instead of responding, Hubert shifted forward to rest his head between her shoulder blades.
“Are you even looking?”
Another groan, and something moving against her back. Was he shaking his head?
She sighed. “Your eyes are closed, aren’t they?”
He nodded. Or, what felt like must have been a nod.
Realization dawned on Byleth in one horrible moment. “You’re afraid of heights.”
Another maybe-nod.
Well, there it was. Hubert von Vestra was afraid of heights. She felt like this should be some sort of victory — that she’d finally found the weak point in the man who prided himself on knowing everyone else’s. But instead, with his fingers clutching at the fabric of her uniform in his terror, she only felt… compassion.
“Why did you agree to this then?” she asked. It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
“Because I wanted to — I don’t know,” he finally said, voice shaky.
Astra had been moving slowly, working her way through her morning route. The pond was now almost directly beneath them.
Byleth covered one of Hubert’s hands with hers, shifting the reins to an easy one-handed grip and bringing Astra slowing to a near-stop. She could chalk this up to a loss and get him back to solid ground, but she had promised him a spectacular view. And if he’d open his eyes he’d have one.
“Try sitting up.” When he didn’t immediately move to comply, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze and added, “It’s okay. I have Astra; I won’t let you fall.” To make her point, she pulled up on the reins and brought Astra to a complete stop. The only sounds now besides Byleth’s own heartbeat in her ears were the steady beat of Astra’s wings and the quiet rustle of ancient forest beneath them.
A long moment passed, but his head remained firmly pressed against her back.
Emboldened, the hand covering his moved to his knee. His fingers tightened their grip on her waist in response.
“It’s okay,” she said, and for a scandalous moment she wondered if that’s how he would hold her as she writhed beneath him. Heat shot through her and she took a deep breath, banishing the image of the two of them together.
Eventually he exhaled shakily, and though he hadn’t sat up, when his iron-grip on her waist only tightened she knew he’d opened his eyes.
“Don’t look down,” she reminded him.
He hadn’t, if his nearly inaudible little gasp was any indication. His arms slid around her waist. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over her ear just long enough for Byleth to wonder if he’d been talking about the sunrise at all.
She turned in the saddle to watch him, wanting to see the awe written on his sharp features, the little mischievous glint in his green eyes.
“Yes,” she said absently, taking in the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parted, soft and relaxed. “Yes it is.”
Forcing herself to turn back around, she fidgeted with the reins. Hubert could take as long as he liked— this was his gift, after all.. At some point — obviously completely unaware of himself — his hands moved to encircle her waist again and he pulled her back against his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.
Dawn continued its trek across the monastery walls, bathing the ancient stone in an effusive warmth that settled in Byleth’s chest. As much she wished for nothing more than to continue like this — as if he could care about her in the way that she wished for him to; as if the war didn’t rage on below their feet, requiring everything they had and more — they were on borrowed time. Hubert would look down eventually.
“Come on, let’s get you down.” Byleth reluctantly pulled herself out of his embrace and righted herself in the saddle. Astra whinnied in anticipation when she felt the reins shifting in Byleth’s grip.
She did her best to lower Astra into a controlled descent. Normally, Byleth would allow the pegasus to expend any excess energy at this point — Astra would dart about, cutting between trees and weaving through branches nearly delirious with joy. A second outing would be in order today; she was practically vibrating with the desire to just fly.
Hubert’s grip had changed again. No longer awkwardly at her waist, he clung to her completely from behind, head pressed to her back and arms wrapped around her middle as if she were the shield keeping him from total ruin.
The ground rapidly approached and Byleth felt Hubert tense as they buzzed the fence; not having the kind of trust with Astra like Byleth did, she supposed that might have seemed a dangerous move.
It was a perfect landing, Astra dropping to the ground in a flurry of feathers as she trotted to a stop, flexing her wings with a snort. She waited there, shaking her head and pawing at the ground. Byleth didn’t move.
Hubert’s arms were still around her waist. Taking a chance that he would react poorly now that they were on the ground, Byleth covered his hands with hers again.
“We’ve landed. You can let go now.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Though he’d responded to her, his voice sounded a little distant and he didn’t seem inclined to move at all. And she didn’t wish to make him.
Unfortunately, it took everything she had to coax his arms free so she could dismount. Hubert followed, sliding off Astra’s back and supporting his weight against her flank as he found his legs.
“I had no idea you were afraid of heights. Though that explains a lot.” She laughed to herself — no wonder Hubert had lobbed every excuse known to humankind to avoid flight practice with the rest of the Eagles at the academy — and set to work removing the bridle, working the bit between Astra’s teeth loose before sliding it off.
She moved to loosen the saddle and nearly bumped into Hubert. Face to face with him she could see just how pale he still was, how dazed he looked. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake; if I can make it up to you—”
He grabbed her wrist, keeping her from fumbling the buckles on the saddle. She held herself there, almost not daring to breathe as his long fingers wrapped around her arm.
“Hubert—” she started, not entirely sure what to say to fix this.
“Don’t apologize,” he said softly, releasing her wrist. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
Byleth almost collapsed with relief. She tugged the saddle off the rest of the way and turned to face him again. “Would you join me for coffee? Maybe I should have started with that.”
Hubert smiled and took the saddle from her, hoisting it over his shoulder and setting off towards storage. “I would be delighted.”
She followed, jogging a few paces to match his long stride. “I don’t mind, you know. You visiting Astra. She obviously likes you. Just… no more coffee beans.”
Hubert chuckled — the first lighthearted sound she’d heard from him all morning. “You may find she likes me much less without the treats.”
“She let you ride her, didn’t she?”
He was still smiling, and in the early morning light it was radiant. “That she did. And who knows, perhaps someday soon I will require another tour of the monastery from above.”
Byleth stopped walking long enough for Hubert to get a few paces ahead as she processed what he’d just said.
He slowed just enough to let her catch up before adding, “And maybe someday you can show me the view of Enbarr, as well.”
Their eyes met, his cheeks flushed — a strange sight with the worn saddle on his shoulder.
“I’d like that,” she said, reaching for his hand as they entered the stables together. “Happy birthday, Hubert.”