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“So does he always dress like that?”
In the back of Emperor Edelgard’s private office, Sylvain lounged on one of the sofas, draped over it like he were melting. He spoke as if he were in the presence of a friend, not the untouchable conqueror of all of Fodlan, but Edelgard didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she had gotten used to it – Sylvain had always been somewhat… eccentric, to put it kindly, even during their school days – and so she paid his posture no mind save for the click of her tongue as she turned her attention back to the document she was amending.
“Is this about Hubert?” she asked. “...Again?”
The ‘again’ stung a little, but Sylvain didn’t let it show on his face or in his voice. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’re not worried about him dressing like a vampire in the middle of summer.”
Edelgard looked up. She frowned, more out of exasperation than any real displeasure, and said, “Sylvain.”
“All I’m saying is that the guy’s bound to get heatstroke wearing all those dark, heavy layers in this disgusting heat.”
With a sigh, Edelgard put her pen down (and Sylvain sat up straight to show his gratitude for her finally deigning him with some attention). “I’ve already spoken to him about it,” she said calmly, steepling her fingers together and pressing them to her lips. “Many times, in fact. But Hubert is nothing if not committed.”
“Committed to what?” Sylvain asked.
“Who knows?” Edelgard slumped back in her chair, a heavy sigh practically exploding out of her. “I understand him better than anyone, but even then, so much of his behaviour is a mystery to me.”
Sylvain laughed. “I think he gets off on it.”
“Sylvain.”
“I’m joking, I’m joking.” He wasn’t joking. “But seriously, there has to be a way to get him to dress appropriately for the summer.”
Edelgard narrowed her eyes. “I’m starting to think your interest in this is far less than appropriate, Sylvain. However…” She sighed. “I can tell you’ve already set your mind to this. There’s nothing I can do to convince you to leave him alone, is there?”
Sylvain grinned. “Nope. Not a thing.”
It wasn’t that Sylvain disliked spending time with Hubert. He didn’t particularly like the man, but his company was bearable, if only because he was fun to rile up – or attempt to rile, as it were, since the man had the composure of a gargoyle. He knew Hubert found him trite and annoying, at least – but for whatever reason, he kept coming back for more. Sylvain had a feeling it wasn’t for a lack of interesting conversational partners.
(He liked to think it was that Hubert secretly enjoyed his company, but more rationally, he knew it was probably Edelgard asking her most faithful servant to keep an eye on him so he wouldn’t get into trouble.)
That afternoon, they set up in the shade of one of the Imperial Palace’s gardens, Sylvain dead on his feet from the heat and Hubert as impassive as ever.
“Really, Gautier,” he sneered as Sylvain practically threw himself onto the grass, “Have you no shame?”
Sylvain scowled up at him. “Is that a trick question?”
“You’re right.” Something almost like a smile twisted the corner of Hubert’s pursed lips. “It was foolish of me to ask when I already know the answer.”
“Glad we’re both on the same page.” Sylvain grinned. “The answer was no, by the way.”
“I know.”
“Good. Just wanted to be clear.”
They remained silent for some time after that. Sylvain stayed sprawled out face-up on the grass, head pillowed on his folded arms, and Hubert sat at the base of the tree they’d sat under, his back ramrod straight. He didn’t even bother leaning on the trunk.
“Wow. You really are uptight,” Sylvain murmured under his breath.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away. But, because Sylvain couldn’t resist trying to get under Hubert’s skin, he added on, “I’m just amazed you can stay upright in this heat. You really don’t know how to relax at all, do you?”
If Hubert frowned (unlikely), Sylvain didn’t see it. “It is certainly better than your boorish behaviour.”
“Wow. Absolutely cutting. It hurts just as much to hear the hundredth time as it did the first.”
Again, Hubert’s lips twisted in something other than complete disdain. Calling that expression a smile would have been generous – it was more like a twitch – but there, just a bit to the left, Sylvain saw it.
A drop.
“No way.” He sat up straight and leaned in uncomfortably close to Hubert, grin so wide it threatened to split his face in two. “So the great Hubert von Vestra is human after all.”
Predictably, Hubert was not amused. “I would ask you to explain yourself, Gautier, but I find myself struggling to care.”
Sylvain took that as permission to continue, because Hubert had a terrible habit of making himself seem uninterested when all he really wanted was to know more. “Oh, nothing. I was just starting to think those rumours about the Vampire of Hresvelg Court were true.”
“And what makes you think they are not?”
“Pretty sure vampires don’t sweat.”
Hubert scowled. It was maybe the most emotion Sylvain had seen on his face all day, so he counted that as a win in his book.
But how far could he push it…?
“You know…” he started again, slyly reaching up to undo the buttons around his collar, “I need to head back to Gautier soon to check on a few things, and I was thinking…”
Hubert’s eyes tracked the movement of Sylvain’s hand, disdainful as always, but now there was a touch of curiosity in his eyes, as though he were actually interested in whatever stupid proposition Sylvain was about to offer.
Of course, recognizing that, Sylvain wasn’t about to just give it to him. No, he had to make Hubert ask.
And ask Hubert did – in record time, even – clearly fed up with this stupid game. With an exasperated huff, he spat, “What?”
Sylvain grinned. “There’s this lake up in Fraldarius…”
“No.”
“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be fun! I could teach you to swim, or you could, you know, just watch, since you can’t seem to take your eyes off me.”
If looks could kill, Sylvain might have been incinerated on the spot. Hubert looked absolutely disgusted, and so Sylvain prepared himself to let the topic drop, a ‘nevermind’ on the tip of his tongue—
“If you truly wish to waste your time frolicking in a lake, there is one just outside of Enbarr.” Hubert sneered and pointedly averted his gaze. “Or so I hear. I haven’t seen it myself, as Lady Edelgard has never had any desire to go.”
“So you do want to go swimming.” Sylvain’s grin turned sharp. Got him.
“I simply want to put an end to your nagging,” Hubert said. “And if doing so means I must accompany you to a lake, then so be it. I will still be close to Her Majesty if we remain in Enbarr.”
“Great! Then it’s a da—”
“But we will go on one condition, and one condition only.” Hubert turned back to Sylvain, a murderous look glimmering in his uncannily green eyes. “You are not to utter a single word about my attire until then.”
“Deal.”
They shook on it. But because both of them knew Sylvain was physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut, neither of them were surprised when he made fun of Hubert’s outfit the very next day.