Work Text:
The study is in disarray. Open and read and reread letters by the windowsill. Hair ties dot the rug. A tea set, now dusty, positioned exactly as it had been left four months ago after its last use. Drawers are open, books left in piles beside the bookcase, a knife kicked carelessly aside and come to rest under a cabinet.
Hubert sits before the hearth. The fire inside casts uneven shadows over his study, allowing him to ignore the disaster he has wrought for now. In his lap is a journal, his latest journal, and he scans the current page before tearing it out and feeding it to the flames. Perhaps one day, hundreds of years hence, some historian will bemoan the loss of information about the notorious Shadow of the Emperor— or whatever nickname he may accumulate— but Hubert is not thinking about so far a future. He is much more concerned with the next few days.
According to reports, the Alliance army will be at their doorstep before the week is out. Hubert believes in Lady Edelgard’s cause. He believes the world will benefit with them as the victors of this war. But he would be a fool to think his survival is guaranteed. Quite the opposite.
Hubert is all but certain he will not see Blue Sea moon.
His postmortem letter is in his pocket, ready to be given to a trusted attendant, who will see it delivered at the proper time— should it come to that. All his personal notes pertaining to those who slither in the dark sit on the desk, wrapped in twine like a gift for a lover. If Claude and the Professor make it through the coming battle, they will find a treasure trove of knowledge in this room.
Some knowledge, however, should be forever lost. And so Hubert tears out another page of his journal.
One subject in particular is no one’s business but his own. Hubert doesn’t even read the next entry in its entirety before ripping it from the book and tossing it to the hearth. It’s enough that a certain name pops up three times on the page.
The Great Bridge of Myrddin had fallen at the start of spring. Hubert is working his way backwards to that day, watching his thoughts on the pages become increasingly mournful as he winds back to when the pain was fresh.
Hubert does not want to read every second of his grief. But a handful of entries make him stop, his heart constricting as his eyes trace words in his own hand.
1st Harpstring Moon
Not a day goes by where I do not find myself wishing he was alive, but yesterday it was nearly a prayer.
Edelgard and myself are lucky to leave Gronder alive. The Alliance faction showed no mercy. I was fortunate to find myself at the hands of the Professor— at least I was able to make a retreat. Those on the central hill did not receive the same courtesy.
Every Eagle that left us all those years ago appeared on the field yesterday, loyal as ever to Claude and the Professor. Killing will not revive the dead. Directing my fury at old schoolmates is unjustified— reports on who landed the killing blow on the Bridge were vague. And still I cut through with abandon. It nearly cost me my own life. If he had been there, perhaps he would have turned the tide. Or perished along with so many others.
By rights, he should come into my tent about now with worry in his eyes and a reprimand on his lips. He should rest beside me and tell me I was reckless, to think of him the next time I try and kill myself in the name of Edelgard.
Obviously none of this is happening. Perhaps if I shut my eyes tight enough…
Hubert grabs the pages and gives a vengeful tug. The fire spits as it accepts the fuel and the previous entry is revealed.
29th Great Tree Moon
Happy early birthday, Ferdinand von Aegir. You would have hated this weather. It gets foggier the closer we march to Gronder.
This page Hubert leaves. He hopes a historian finds the date valuable one day.
An early summer breeze flits through the window, stirring the letters there. Some have been neatly tucked back into their envelopes. Some are wrinkled from over handling. All are signed with the same name.
Hubert takes a deep breath of the breeze, relishing how it caresses the back of his neck like soothing fingertips. Something wet drops onto the back of his hand, another follows onto the page. He ignores them both and flips backwards in the journal.
1st Great Tree Moon
The page is blank but for a scribbled out word and splash of ink. Hubert almost rips it out anyway.
He continues skimming and destroying by turns until he gets to a certain date.
4th Lone Moon
The Alliance army has succeeded in gaining troops in Ailell. Seems House Rowe doesn’t have the strength it once did. Lady Edelgard is reinforcing our defences at key points throughout the Empire; Myrddin, the borders, Countess Varley’s territory, Gronder.
Ferdinand himself has volunteered to be sent to Myrddin with Ladislava. He shouldn’t go— his place is here advising Lady Edelgard. Try as I might to argue this he is adamant. He truly believes he can prove himself in battle, prove his worth to the Empire. As if he needs to.
He promises to write every day he can. I told him that was excessive, but he insists.
Much as I would like to, I cannot accompany him and Ladislava for the trip tomorrow. Tonight will have to be enough for us. Even as I write this, he slumbers beside me, well aware of the anxiety I have been trying to hide.
Ferdinand, when you return at war’s end, every night will be spent this way together. Without the fear of what tomorrow may bring. That I promise.
The journal slips from Hubert’s hands, almost falling in the hearth, landing open on that page. Perhaps the whole thing should go up in flames. Perhaps this whole room should be subjected to a fire spell. Damn the tea set, the letters, the hair ties, the fading scent of southern fruit blend. Damn the bookshelf Ferdinand would pursue while waiting for Hubert to finish work for the evening. Damn whoever had the impudence to knock Ferdinand from his horse without Hubert there to see.
Elbows on his knees, Hubert holds his face in his hands. He could strangle his past self for not being more persistent. His shoulders shake minutely and he bites his lip to keep every sound in, nearly bites through in desperation.
Wind threads through the study again, and Hubert imagines it’s a murmur of comfort. That Ferdinand is just behind him, looking as heartbroken as Hubert feels.
Hubert does not need to turn around to know it’s not real.
After a few moments, he picks up the journal and sets about his task again. The going should be easier now, with the fateful day past. But he finds the naïve days just as harmful as he turns back the clock page by page. Hubert moving into Ferdinand’s rooms, the beginnings of their courtship, realizing what the strange buzzing in his chest when he saw Ferdinand meant, finding solace in one another at the start of this war, arguments over Ferdinand’s loyalty to Edelgard.
A bittersweet smile darkens Hubert’s expression at these earlier entries, and he tears away less and less. One comforting thought consumes him now: it hardly matters that Ferdinand met his end in Myrddin. If he had survived, he would be here with Hubert now, tallying their possessions to make the enemy's search easier should they fall in Enbarr. The idea of doing all this with Ferdinand by his side— eyes dim in the face of their demise— is somehow worse than doing this alone.
At last, the journal is thinner than when he started. Hubert stands on protesting legs and crosses to the window. One letter has been read more than any other, and Hubert picks up the last page again, reading words he’s had months to memorize.
And if this is my final letter, know that my heart goes with it. Stay safe, Hubert.
All my love,
Ferdinand von Aegir
This page, and this page alone, Hubert folds and tucks into his inner vest pocket. If he dies in the coming battle, it will be buried with him. It is all the comfort he can afford.
There’s no more that can be done tonight. Hubert douses the fire, latches the window, closes the drawers, leaves the books where they are for now. Going by the reports, he has some time to get this place in order before the Alliance and the Professor are breathing down their necks. Running a hand down his face, feeling where the skin is tight with tear tracks, Hubert leaves the study for his rooms.
A part of him hopes none of this is necessary, and he will be back here putting everything in place again come the first of Blue Sea moon.
Another part of him hopes he will see Ferdinand again instead.