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“Not so rough, Hubert!”
“Then move faster.”
“There is no need to pull me along!”
Hubert, who held Ferdinand’s wrist in a vice grip, spared him a glare. “If we do not move fast you will drip blood everywhere. Now walk with purpose.”
Ferdinand glared back but it was lost on Hubert as he turned around to continue dragging Ferdinand through Garreg Mach. It was early. Most students were still in bed or just getting breakfast, and the reception hall was empty as they marched through towards the staircase. Just minutes ago, Hubert and Ferdinand had been tending to their duties in the stables, snapping at each other as the sun rose.
Now Ferdinand’s hand was bleeding through the handkerchief Hubert had haphazardly wrapped around it. He winced as Hubert tugged especially hard to lead him up the stairs. “Slow down,” he hissed.
“The wound must be cleaned before I can heal it. Otherwise we risk infection.” Though Hubert did loosen his hold somewhat. Ferdinand kept his mouth shut as they reached the landing and made their way down the hall.
Once inside the infirmary, Hubert let go at last. “It is hardly worth all this trouble,” Ferdinand protested again as he unwound the handkerchief. The once pristine white cloth was now nearly soaked through. “It was simply a playful nip.”
Hubert eyed the handkerchief pointedly. “Wyvern bites are not playful . What were you even doing near one? They’re not allowed near the horse stables and yet I turn around and you have your hand in its mouth!”
“He flew over of his own accord! I thought he was hungry so I offered him a treat and, well—”
“And he nearly took your hand off. Delightful creature.” Hubert opened a cabinet behind Manuela’s desk. “Take off your glove while I find the right jar.”
Easier said than done. Ferdinand went as slowly as he could, but each drag of the fabric against his gashes was agony. Blood ran freely down his wrist. Remembering Hubert’s earlier order not to trail blood everywhere, Ferdinand held his hand over the small table as he worked.
With a pained gasp, Ferdinand jerked the rest of the glove past his knuckles and off his hand. He had to admit, the wound did look rather serious now that he could see it properly. Two deep puncture marks welled with blood. Each was followed by a thick jagged line from where Ferdinand had retracted his hand once the wyvern had eased up. His palm was only slightly better off.
“Come here. We need to wash it off.”
Ferdinand looked up at Hubert with narrowed eyes. “Why are you helping me?” He asked as he joined Hubert before a basin of clear water. “I would have expected you to stay and get your half of the chores done.”
“How little you think of me.” Hubert removed his own gloves, took Ferdinand by the wrist again, and began scooping water over the wounds. This time Ferdinand held back his wince. “Let me be clear,” Hubert went on as he worked, “I hold little respect for you and truly believe you’re a thorn in Lady Edelgard’s side. But I don’t relish the thought of you losing a hand due to your own idiocy.”
“That is a touch dramatic.”
“I suppose it must be, if you are the one telling me so.”
Ferdinand nearly yanked his hand away. “Perhaps it is best we carry on in silence, if you insist on helping. Or else I will be tempted to flick blood over your uniform.”
That earned him another hateful glare, but Hubert did not comment further as he continued washing Ferdinand’s hand. Soon the water in the basin was a horrific pink. Hubert reached over to pluck Ferdinand’s handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing it over Ferdinand’s knuckles to dry the area.
The handkerchief passed over one of the punctures and Ferdinand flinched. “Sorry,” Hubert muttered. Ferdinand did not reply. At least it didn’t seem like Hubert was secretly trying to cause more harm. Nor did he appear to find mirth in Ferdinand’s pain. He kept his head down, all his attention on the injury.
When Hubert decided Ferdinand’s hand was dry enough, he guided him to the desk where a squat jar sat open and waiting. The substance inside was thick and pale green. Hubert scooped some up with one finger, held Ferdinand’s hand steady, and paused with his finger over the worst of the punctures.
His eyes flickered up to Ferdinand’s face as if about to speak. But he didn’t. Instead, he slowly began rubbing the cream over the wound. It stung, as Ferdinand had expected, but Hubert’s movements were gentle. Once the cream was spread evenly, Hubert began massaging it in with both hands, fingers and thumbs working over the inflamed skin.
The infirmary was still. Neither spoke as Hubert worked the cream into the bite marks. If it weren’t for the ever present sting, Ferdinand may have found it pleasant. Hubert massaged the cream over each knuckle, down and between each finger, rubbed small circles over and around the two punctures— and he did it all thoroughly. It was a level of care Ferdinand found he was not surprised by. As much as they did not get along, he had never known Hubert to carry out a task with anything but precision.
Hubert did not stop once the cream had been fully worked in. He continued massaging Ferdinand’s hand for a few moments more, his movements slower. “I apologize for being short with you while you were in pain.” Hubert’s voice was quiet, as if unsure whether breaking the silence was allowed just yet.
Ferdinand shook his head, though Hubert had yet to look up. “I am sorry for thinking so badly of you. I should have learned from our time fighting alongside each other that you do not wish me harm.”
White light pooled in Hubert’s fingers and his touch warmed as healing magic spread into Ferdinand. The stinging instantly vanished. While the wound remained, the bleeding had stopped and the marks turned the soft pink of new skin.
And still Hubert did not release Ferdinand.
“How does it feel?” Hubert asked, holding Ferdinand’s hand higher to get a closer look.
“Fine.” Ferdinand felt his chest grow tight as Hubert inspected his work. When that careful gaze met his, Ferdinand felt himself stop breathing altogether. “Ah, Hubert?”
“Yes?”
“We should—” The words stuck in his throat. He wanted to be responsible and point out they still had time to finish their stable duties before class. Or commend Hubert on his excellent healing. But nothing was forthcoming, and Ferdinand found himself staring, becoming acutely aware of Hubert’s bare fingers over his.
It was Hubert who looked away first. He dropped Ferdinand’s hand and stepped back. “Yes, we should leave before Manuela gets in. Doubtless you will not want to explain such an embarrassing story to your idol.”
The light barb should have caused Ferdinand to fire back something to defend himself. Instead he nodded and retracted his hand to feel the new skin himself. “Yes. Let us get back to work.”
“That hand should be healed again tomorrow, just to be sure there is no damage to the tendons.” Hubert screwed the jar closed and replaced it in the cabinet. “I can do it before breakfast tomorrow. Or— I suppose you could ask Linhardt. Or even the Professor. They won’t ask questions.”
“I would rather you do it, I think,” Ferdinand said before he could stop himself. That drew Hubert’s attention. “Just to keep the healing consistent. Besides, I know you could use the faith practice.”
Hubert huffed. “How kind of you.” But there was little mocking in his tone.
Once the infirmary was set to rights, the pair left. Hubert slipped his gloves back on as they made their way back downstairs and towards the stables. More students and staff hung about now but no one paid them any mind, too busy waking up or meeting with friends.
The silence that stretched between them now had a different edge to it. Ferdinand began to dread working alongside Hubert with such awkwardness hanging around them, and tried frantically to think of what to say to clear the air. But nothing was coming to mind— Ferdinand didn’t even know what the air was .
“Hey!”
Ferdinand and Hubert both jumped at the call. Leonie approached with a friendly wave, surprisingly happy to see them. “Good morning,” Ferdinand greeted kindly.
“Glad I found you two. Why aren’t you in the stables?”
“Why were you looking for us?” Hubert countered. Ferdinand flexed his hand.
Thankfully, Leonie didn’t push the subject. “The Professor wants me and Ferdinand on stable duty instead. They think I need to work on my riding. Can’t say I agree but I did ask to join your class so,” she thumped a fist to her chest, “reporting for duty!”
Any other day, Ferdinand would rejoice at not having to work with Hubert. Especially under the circumstances, he should perhaps feel immense relief as well. Instead Ferdinand looked to Hubert with an apologetic smile. “It seems you are free to go.”
Hubert nodded absently. It was hard to tell if he was pleased or if, for the same unknown reasons as Ferdinand, he felt mildly disappointed. In any case, he stepped back from Ferdinand and Leonie. “I wish you both luck. Don’t be late for class.” The words came out terse. Ferdinand felt the bizarre urge to apologize.
With that, Hubert walked away.
“Lucky you, eh?” Leonie said once Hubert was out of ear shot. “I don’t know why the Professor paired you two up in the first place. It’s obvious you don’t get along.”
Ferdinand did not reply. He marked Hubert’s exit, willing him to look back, just once. Just to catch his eye. To share a look. For what purpose, Ferdinand couldn’t say. He simply stared and hoped for Hubert to turn.
It did not happen. Hubert left the reception hall and disappeared out into the courtyard.
“Must’ve been painful, right?”
“Hm?” Ferdinand looked back to Leonie. “Oh, no. He was quite gentle, actually.”
She cocked her head at him. “With the horses?”
“What?”
“I was saying it must have been painful to work with Hubert all morning.”
“Oh! Of course, yes, it was…” The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and Ferdinand glanced behind him briefly. But no one was in the doorway. No one was looking their way at all. He cleared his throat. “It was nothing but a bother.”
She smirked. “We’ll do fine, you and me. Let’s get to it!”
As they left the hall, Ferdinand once again felt a pair of eyes on him. He clasped his hands behind his back, casually as he could, and rubbed his fingers over the back of his previously injured hand. Maybe he was trying to set his observer at ease and assure them he was up to work in the stables still. Or maybe he was acknowledging he knew they had unfinished business.
Or maybe no one was watching and Ferdinand was making something out of nothing. Either way, he followed Leonie outside and tried not to think about his promised appointment with Hubert tomorrow morning.