Chapter Text
Upon the rare opportunities in which Hubert gets a moment to rest, he picks up a book and reads it.
Of course, it’s always non-fiction. Retellings of any true event that have happened during Fodlan’s lifetime, not only for entertainment but for educational purposes. While history is not something Hubert had ever been accustomed to during his schooling, he certainly found prosperity in it. To learn from the past and use it for a better future. It’s logical, and Hubert adheres to logical.
While he and any other person would far more appreciate a cozy interior and a crackling fireplace, Hubert instead finds himself sitting alone in his tent, an ever so present reminder that he is fighting a war. His accommodations are quite comfortable, however, considering his position, so he finds no trouble in sitting in his makeshift armchair, his lantern suffice as a reading lamp. Perhaps if he were normal, he would be drinking a relaxing warm tea, but instead he picks up his mug of coffee and gets to reading.
This particular retelling is one of Faerghus. All the better to know the enemy's history, after all, is what he tells himself, but in actuality he finds this read quite... abhorrent. The chivalry of it all. The only reason he’s giving it a chance is because Shez gave it to him, under the impression that he likes to read, and well, she may be correct about that, but not like this. Not when the so-called noble men think that true bravery is heedlessly putting yourself in front of a blade. When Kyphon endangered others to protect Loog, was he thinking about the greater good, or was he just simply thinking about himself?
Hubert’s quiet contemplation is interrupted by a shift outside his tent.
“Hubert, may I come in?” A familiar voice is heard. Hubert sighs and sets his book down in his lap, open to preserve the page.
“Yes, come in.” Hubert replies. Golden hair obstructs his view, as do amber eyes and night clothes.
Ferdinand von Aegir. What is there to say? Hubert’s… comrade in arms, an endless talker and a big idealist. If asked what he thought of Ferdinand, he’d keep the description short and sweet: a reliable asset to Lady Edelgard. His true thoughts, however, would sorely betray him. Childhood enemy turned trusted friend. Malicious banter that now saw itself light and meaningless. Somehow they always got a rise out of one another, knowing just what it takes to make the other man tick. A cocky, loud hindrance. Someone he could always rely on to say the needed truth, and the unneeded buoyancy. Someone Lady Edelgard heavily relied on. Someone Hubert could not bear to lose to this war. Etcetera.
“Had a nightmare?” Hubert muses, gesturing towards his comrade’s choice of outfit.
“Oh, quiet. I was just heading off to bed, but then I had an idea, and came here as quickly as time permitted.” Ferdinand shoots him a glare, seating himself in the chair parallel. Hubert raises his eyebrows, and folds his hands on his lap, over his book. Ferdinand’s gaze falls to it, and his expression changes to surprise.
“Ah- I did not realize you were not working.” Ferdinand pauses, pursing his lips. Hubert narrows his eyes.
“What do you mean by ‘not working’? Are you under the assumption I would be working this late in the night?” He scoffs. Ferdinand stares at him blankly.
“Um, yes? You always are!”
Hubert picks up his coffee to take a sip, and Ferdinand gestures to it wildly.
“See! Right there! Why, it is preposterous to me that you are drinking caffeine this late!” He exclaims, and Hubert glares, keeping eye contact as he finishes his mug. “That surely doesn’t calm your nerves before bed!”
“I did not realize I had invited you in to criticize my lifestyle.” Hubert retorts. Ferdinand sighs and his expression morphs back into begrudging professionality.
“Fine, you’re correct, my apologies, Hubert. In fact, I’m here because I realized how we could improve our tactic for tomorrow’s battle, if you’ll indulge me?”
Hubert leans forward with piqued interest. “I’m listening”
Ferdinand then goes on to describe the current formation, and why it needs to be changed to better accommodate the terrain. Ferdinand makes a point that they’re fighting in Northern Faerghus, where the climate is colder and the rocks are sharper. Hubert gets out his ink and pen and writes down the ideas Ferdinand feeds him, nodding as he does so. He had not considered the subtle difference Ferdinand had. Perhaps that is why they are regarded as Edelgard’s brains , plural. An implication Hubert once upon a time disliked, but now he doesn’t so much mind it.
“-and, well, that is all. I’m unsure if it will be any use to you, but I figured I would share.” Ferdinand finishes. Hubert sets his pen back inside of the bottle.
“Actually, this was quite helpful, Ferdinand. I’ll be sure to bring this to Edelgard before we head off.” Hubert dips his head. He would never admit it outloud, but he always respected Ferdinand’s input.
Ferdinand beams. A compliment from Hubert is not to be taken with a grain of salt, after all.
“Besides, doing something useful is more welcoming than reading whatever this Kingdom trash is.” Hubert picks up the discarded book by the spine and wiggles it around, the pages sloshing. Ferdinand perks an eyebrow up in amusement.
“I take it you do not enjoy that book?” He smirks.
“No.” Hubert responds plainly, throwing it on the floor. “Better yet, it is the only book I brought with me when we left Enbarr”
Ferdinand hums thoughtfully. “I have some books in my possession, if you’d like one?”
Hubert raises his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware you read in your spare time?”
“What did you think I did?” Ferdinand narrows his eyes. Hubert shrugs and conceals the smirk forming on his lips.
“Frolic around with the horses? Talk to yourself in the mirror?”
“I most certainly-!” Ferdinand gasps, shoving his hands on his hips defensively as Hubert let the smirk win.“That was one time you caught me, one time !”
-
The battle is anything but easy, and Hubert suspects it may never get easier, especially when they fare against such powerful foes- the Knights of Seiros themselves. As it always is, the ground is stained bloody and Hubert unfortunately falls naturally into place. Such as the ways of war.
After battle is a routine that serves death on a cold platter, fiercer than a Faerghus snowstorm. Hubert surveys the terrain around him and makes note of the bodies slung across the ground, some with blood still pooling around them. Hubert feels nothing at the sight.
He is spent, exhausted, and he is even more so when he invests the rest of the day into working. Planning routes, tactics, and assisting Her Majesty. They’re so close to victory; so close he can almost taste the melted snow. He cannot stop now. He cannot rest now. For his Lady’s sake, and for the future's sake.
Hubert is strolling past the training grounds when the moon is high, making his way towards the command center when he sees Ferdinand walking in his direction, holding something in his hands.
“Hubert, there you are.” Ferdinand nods, approaching him ever so enthusiastically for this time of night. “Where are you off to?”
“My office.” Hubert responds thickly. Ferdinand draws out a long, dramatic sigh.
“Working still? Why, I was just heading off to bed!”
“If that’s the case, then goodnight.” Hubert dips his head, and turns to excuse himself.
“Wait now! I did not say you could be excused!” Ferdinand scoffs, and Hubert begrudgingly turns back around. He needs to get back to work; he has no time for frivolous smalltalk.
“I want to give you this.” Hubert’s gaze is directed to the object in Ferdinand’s hands, which he now identifies as a novel. It is quite thick in width. Hubert takes it from him thoughtfully.
“Oh, yes, your book. Pray tell, what is this about?”
Ferdinand rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“I was hoping you would fail to ask that, and just read it.” He admits. Hubert frowns.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” He demands. Ferdinand smirks mischievously.
“Let us just say.” He politely clasps his hands behind his back. “That it’s not the normal genre of story you fancy”
Hubert takes a quick look at the hardcover. The title reads The Sun’s Kiss , engraved with a fancy font and surrounded by roses. The word kiss is enough for Hubert to piece it together.
“You mean to tell me you’re offering me a romance novel?” He deadpans.
“Yes.” Ferdinand smiles cheesily.
Hubert shoves the book back in his arms.
Ferdinand gasps, and Hubert twirls back around, straightening his cravat and going along his merry way. He ignores the way Ferdinand shouts and follows close behind him, a trail of hurried footsteps crunching against the grass.
“You’re quite a- well, you are-!”
“I’m a what, Ferdinand?”
Hubert doesn’t turn around as he asks, making his way up the stone steps. Ferdinand is determinedly on his tail.
“I’m afraid I cannot say the term, as it would sully my good image, but just know it is nothing kind!”
Hubert sighs and stops when he reaches the top. Ferdinand was not ready for the sudden halt and he collides into Hubert’s back, grumbling and rubbing his nose, glaring daggers at the man who looms over him.
“You are dramatic. It is a genre you know fully well that I disdain. What made you think I would want to read it?” Hubert asks incredulously. Ferdinand holds the book to his chest.
“Because, despite your misbelief about romance, it is a very enchanting and worthwhile read.” Ferdinand insists, before slowly holding out the book once more. “And, of course, you trust my input, don’t you, Hubert?”
Blink blink.
“Fine. But only because I need something to read.” Hubert grits his teeth, and takes the book for good. He struggles to ignore the way Ferdinand’s eyes light up in satisfaction.
“Are you going to say it?”
“Say what?”
“That you trust my readerly input.”
Hubert stares at him.
“I will say no such thing. Goodnight, Ferdinand.” He sighs, and allows himself to smile, shaking his head. Ferdinand scoffs, but it isn’t true annoyance, but rather a part of a banter that they’d been dancing to for years. A silent, mutual understanding between the arguments. One that Hubert appreciates so.
Hubert allocates time to read it a few days later, when Edelgard insists he relax and take a break.
Of course, this was difficult persuasion on her part, especially because of how soon it is to be when they defeat King Dimitri once and for all. Definitely not an end to the war, but it was unarguably a significant milestone. Hubert very reluctantly obliged to her orders.
Unfortunately, he does not have a garden to stroll through, so he instead grabs that stupid book Ferdinand suggested, and he nestles in a nice spot under a tree, hesitantly opening up the cover.
He expects nothing of this book, and intends to swiftly discard it back to its owner after he’s had enough.
-
“Yo, Hubert, what’s with the book?”
Hubert breaks his gaze from the page and now meets Shez, who’s smiling sheepishly. Hubert slams The Sun’s Kiss shut and places it on his desk, quickly turning in his seat to face her.
“Simply a stupid experimental read.” Hubert laces his fingers together and props his elbows up on the table. He sweats profusely under his coat as he wonders if Shez knows it’s a romance. She surely wouldn’t? Does Shez even read?
“If it’s so stupid, then why have I seen you continiously reading it in this past week?” Shez says smugly, smirking. Hubert’s expression flatens, and he narrows his eyes.
“What do you need, Shez?”
“Oh, right. I was going to ask where Edelgard is.” Shez nods. Hubert sighs.
“I believe she is out taking tea, a little ways from base. If you wish to bother her, by all means go ahead.” Hubert waves his hand toward the door. Shez cackles.
“You’re one of a kind, Hubert. Oh, by the way, whatever happened to the book I gave you?”
“It was abhorrent .”
Shez’s smile drops. “Whatever. See you around.” She rolls her eyes, and proceeds to leave Hubert’s office in search of Edelgard.
Hubert happily turns back to The Sun’s Kiss after having won a pointless customary banter with Shez, crestfallen when he realizes that he forgot what page he was on.
-
The Sun’s Kiss is commentary on the relationships between nobility and the common poor man. How they’re restricted from love because of their birth fate, and since their life experiences differ greatly, their outlooks on it contradict. The noble is a cheery man, always finding the brighter side of things- and the commoner is a depressed slum, with no hopes of a successful future, wallowing in his discontent.
It’s an intriguing analysis of society’s view and treatment of the lower class, and, okay, he is enjoying this book.
It’s even got to the point where, when he is suggested a break from his formal duties, the first thing he does is open it. Which is always in private. Goddess forbid anyone catches him while reading it and lays it into him like a bunch of nosy children. That encounter with Shez was already embarrassing enough, with her teasing personality. Hubert has even pondered, on countless occasions, to feign a cover, to make it appear as though he were reading something more respectable. At least, he doesn’t think anyone has seen the title yet, so he’s in the clear. For now.
But, well, to put his thoughts into words would be a struggle. Love… hm. The word leaves bittersweetness on his tongue. Salted caramel, maybe, if it were a taste of something real.
Hubert finds this read strangely… educational. Teacherly in a field of expertise that he knows nothing about. The act of love. Hubert has considered the concept many times, but never on such a personal level that a novel will take it.
The burning desire to want. To want something and strive to get it. Hubert understands that all too well. But to want some one ? To endow upon them your affections, and receive those in return? It was unknown territory for Hubert. He simply had never allowed himself to be vulnerable in such a way.
It’s a different affection, Hubert deems, than the one he shares with Edelgard. He would do anything for her. All he ever wants is to protect her- but not in the way that burns. His love for Edelgard is gentle and comforting. It brings you vision in a place that is dark. Hubert decides that true love is not that, but in fact a blaze. True love is bright and colorful and hardly anything but dim; it warms your skin in places you weren’t aware even existed. It is frightening, lurching, and far from gentle.
Hubert closes the book.
-
“I finished.”
Ferdinand looks up from his lunch, a fruit salad, and his mouth takes on the ‘o’ shape. He sets his fork down.
“You what?“ He gasps.
“Oh, don’t you make me repeat it.” Hubert grumbles. Ferdinand’s eyes crinkle when his smile reaches them.
“Sit, sit.” He gestures excitedly to the bench across him, and Hubert gruffly sits down. Ferdinand grins.
“Well? Well?”
“Well what?”
“ Well , what did you think of the book, Hubert?” Ferdinand tilts his head. Hubert pauses, and tries to find the words to say.
“It was… okay.” Hubert lies.
He ignores how awful he feels when Ferdinand’s smile falters, and is replaced with annoyance.
“Is that all?” He scoffs.
“Yes.” Hubert swallows the lump in his throat, and slides the novel back into Ferdinand’s possession.
“No- nothing thought provoking?” Ferdinand pries. “Or, relatable, even?”
Hubert holds back the warmth in his face.
“No, Ferdinand, nothing relatable .” He sneers the last word out of embarrassment. Ferdinand seems… wholly disappointed by this.
“Why do you take that tone with me?” He asks incredulously, narrowing his eyes to slits.
“What tone? There is no tone.”
Ferdinand signs, rubbing his temple. Annoyance quickly diminishes into silence.
“Okay, well.” Ferdinand drums his fingers against the wood of the table, giving in to an argument he knows he would lose. “I suppose your disinterest cannot be helped, can it?”
“Right.” Hubert says curtly.
Silence again. Hubert urges himself to find the words to mend the situation he just got himself into, but he’s never been one to be vulnerable, so instead he gets back up and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, finding nothing more to offer to the conversation.
“I shall be off then, Ferdinand.” He dips his head. Ferdinand stuffs his fork back into his lettuce and avoids Hubert’s gaze.
“Goodbye, Hubert.” It isn’t said in his usual manner. It’s off-putting, but Hubert quickly disproves his paranoia. What would there be for Ferdinand to find upsetting? Hubert asks himself this logically, and comes up with no conclusion, so surely he’s kidding himself, overthinking the way Ferdinand sulkily buries himself back into his salad.
-
In order to continue their allegiance with the Alliance, it’s no doubt that they require the recapture of Hyrm territory to a suspicious invasion of bandits, ones with an unordinary amount of mages. The Adrestian army offers their hand without struggle, and all is well, until the news is delivered that there has been an insurrection of rebels attacking Fort Merceus.
Once again, they’re off to battle, this time back in Adrestia whence they came. An attack back in the empire was the last thing anyone needed, but the attack being orchestrated by Ludwig von Aegir himself was the cherry on top.
Ferdinand was not pleased with the news, his normal boisterous disposition replaced with stressful silence. When questioned about his attitude, he quickly faked smiles with the wave of a hand. As they close in on Enbarr, in the heat of raging battle, Ferdinand’s movements get sloppy and reckless. For what is normally graceful and agile mounted on his horse, Ferdinand is a fire with a lance. He burns the battlefield, merciless in his path to pursue his father. Hubert is not far behind, as he has his own qualms with the former Duke Aegir.
They finally approach him, and the man, pathetic as he is, shakes in the wake of his son’s rebellion against his own father- he sputters and stumbles when Hubert incinterates the rest of his personal troops with little to no effort. Ferdinand has ditched his horse, electing to finish the job swiftly. Instead of moving forward, he stands there, staring at his father with heavy breaths. Hubert worries at Ferdinand’s reluctance.
“Go on, then.” Hubert lifts his chin, eyes still glued on Ludwig. “I’ll leave you with the final blow”
Ferdinand breaks out of his trance and begins to walk towards his father, pace quickening the closer he gets, as Ludwig cowers in fear. “You leave me nothing .” He says, numbly, any trace of emotion gone from his voice. “This was ever my burden to bear”
Hubert considers his own delicacy to the situation of one’s father. A father is to be brutal, but it is not love. It is simply a savage hatred. It is not a warmth, but rather a form of torture. To have a father is the Goddess’ gift from Void. A father leaves you feeling inadequate. A dead father simply leaves you feeling like nothing.
That is what Hubert decides Ferdinand must feel, with his lance deep in his father’s chest, his armor slick with the blood of the man who raised him. Hubert remembers that feeling well; he who held power over you now reduced into a pile of guts. It’s a disgusting liberation. It leaves you feeling reborn, naked, vulnerable, and alone.
Ferdinand’s fists unclench, and his head falls.
What was Ferdinand’s relationship to his father as a child? Hubert thinks of it akin to a dog. For as long as he’s known Ferdinand, the son von Aegir has been nothing but another blind noble. Preaching and prancing around about nobility, with plans to succeed his Lady. Like Hubert would ever let that happen. However, he didn’t deem Ferdinand to be that type of threat anymore. Not since their academy days have ended, and Ferdinand became the independent man he is today. No, Ferdinand… Ferdinand he can trust. Ferdinand he can trust to do the right thing, albeit hard.
“You did the right thing, Ferdinand.” Hubert says, ever at his side. He brings his hand to Ferdinand’s shoulder, and he swears that his friend ever so slightly leans into the touch.
Ludwig may be dead, but the fight is far from over.
The next coming days are strenuous. Surprisingly enough, he sees much of Ferdinand. His grief-stricken friend stays by Edelgard’s side, continuing to do his duties as the new Prime Minister. It satisfies Hubert, in fact, to see Ferdinand in such a productive state, not wallowing in an endless depressioned spiral. It’s still hard on him, though, and Hubert comprehends that well- the noticeable shift in his personality only Hubert could pick up on, just by the way he glances down at his lap instead of out the window. His lack of enthusiasm for their usual banter; Hubert knew Ferdinand enjoyed getting on his nerves well, but anytime Hubert utters something that would normally put his comrade over the edge, Ferdinand instead brushes it aside.
This bothers Hubert. And if that wasn’t enough, he feels obligated about something he can’t quite put his finger on.
As if something is not correctly in place, Hubert cannot determine what it is. He wants some…thing. And it makes him feel a bit selfish, to take such a feeble situation and make it about himself. Maybe Hubert can’t help it. Maybe it drudged up bad memories of his own, and now he’s the unwilling victim of old trauma. But there is something in that way that Ferdinand silently grieves that makes Hubert unwell, and completely helpless. Hubert is not a kind Dorothea, or a comforting Shez. Hubert is cold. That is what he has always been told. He is powerless in this matter.
For whichever reason or the other, Hubert stands in front of Ferdinand’s tent. He insists to himself that it is for the greater good of the Empire’s overall dynamic, ensuring Ferdinand’s role in the revolution is locked in place. Ferdinand cannot falter. Hubert convinces himself it is not a request of his own.
“May I come in?” Hubert articulates.
A muffled confirmation comes from the other side, and Hubert invites himself in.
The living quarters of Ferdinand are different from Hubert. There are more colorful personal belongings strung along the place, including horse gear and memorabilia, and there’s an air of coziness that Hubert’s own tent lacks. Ferdinand is sat on his bed, with a book in his hands.
“Reading, I see.” Hubert hums.
“Yes.” Ferdinand looks up at him curtly. There’s a certain look of discontent in his eye. Hubert remembers their conversation preceding the return of The Sun’s Kiss , and guilt swells in his stomach. Apparently he is not over that, and neither is Ferdinand.
“Ferdinand-“ He starts.
“Hmm?” Ferdinand raises an eyebrow, setting his book aside. Hubert clears his throat.
“I apologize about your father.” Hubert takes a short bow. “I… can see how that would be difficult to endure.” Ferdinand still lacks the truth of Hubert’s own father’s death, but Hubert doesn’t plan on sharing that story. Not today, at least.
“It is hard, but nothing I can’t handle.” Ferdinand responds curtly. “He deserved what was coming to him”
“I agree.” Hubert says.
“Is that all?”
Hubert’s eyes dart to the book.
“I… do have some insight to share. On that book you gave me, I mean. Uh, if you’re okay with that, that is. It was…”
Ferdinand’s eyes suddenly brighten, his demeanor drastically shifting.
“It was invigorating ? Satisfying? Enlightening?” He interrupts. Hubert sighs, and gives in, sitting on the edge of Ferdinand’s bed.
“All of those things, yes.” He admits. Ferdinand clasps his hands together and beams.
“Oh! I knew there was a sap inside of you all this time, Hubert.” Ferdinand coos, and Hubert recoils back, the hair on his skin prickling.
“Now, let’s not jump to those conclusions.” He mutters.
Ferdinand seems to find satisfaction in Hubert’s embarrassment, shoving his arm lightly and giving out a chuckle. Hubert smiles, and soon the moment passes, the room shifting back into silence.
“So.” Ferdinand pauses. “Care to share what you think, Hubert? What do you think about love?” He leans in, eyelashes fluttering, his head tilted inquisitively.
“Wh- what?” Hubert sputters.
“Love, Hubert! I want to know your thoughts!” Ferdinand pleads, taking Hubert’s hand up and shaking it; Hubert stiffens under the contact. “Surely we’re close enough friends now for you to share?”
Hubert thinks he really wants to experience love. Whatever it is. But he can’t just say that, there’s more to it. He turns to Ferdinand, looking into his eyes, and searches for the right words. They’re right there - the words.
Ferdinand stares back with a twinge of pink on his cheeks.
“Hubert?” He repeats. Hubert snaps back to reality.
“I think I need another novel. To, to read. To get my thoughts in order, that is.” Hubert nods to himself, sure of his decision. “Because as of right now, I can’t find the right words. You must understand”
To Hubert’s surprise, Ferdinand smiles softly.
“You have never been good with words, Hubert.” He says, tone reminiscent. Hubert is unfortunately inclined to agree.
“But, sure, I can suggest another book.” He is unexpectedly patient, pulling himself out of his bed and to his bookshelf. He rummages through it, before deciding on one with a nice velvet green cover. As he hands it to Hubert, the title reads, War’s End in Spring .
“Ironic title, is it not?” Hubert quips, brushing his thumb against the cover’s texture. “Why, by the time we’ve fully ended all of this, the flowers will be blooming again”
Ferdinand hums and sits back down, next to Hubert this time. Their thighs brush. Hubert is acutely aware of it, and quickly brushes the thought aside. He is not here for such trivial thoughts.
“Ferdinand, it’s only fair I ask you in return.” Hubert turns to his friend, thoughtful. “What are your thoughts on love?”
Ferdinand looks at the makeshift wall in contemplation. It doesn’t take him long to answer.
“There is nothing more important to me than being noble.” Ferdinand begins, his fingernails scratching at his pants. “But perhaps there is more to that said nobility. What is being noble to me, after all? After I…”
He catches his breath.
“After I killed Father, I considered what nobility meant to me.” Ferdinand shakes his head, to show a bitter acceptance. “And I realized it was nothing more than a projected need of belonging, orchestrated by the lack of attention I received as a child”
Hubert stares at Ferdinand, wordless, hoping his silence gives leeway to continue. Ferdinand draws in another breath, hesitating to show such emotional vulnerability, and then continues.
“My father never really cared about me- he only bothered to make sure I was his carbon copy, vicariously living through my success.” Ferdinand worries at his bottom lip. “And my mother was money hungry and neglectful. Her greed surely must have led to her death”
Hubert’s throat tightens. He had no idea Ferdinand’s mother was deceased as well.
“Of course, I truly do think that it is my moral and upstanding personal duty to be a role model and guiding star, so to speak.” Ferdinand grabs his own chin and strokes it, eyebrows furrowed. “But I have to wonder if that’s all I desire, and what I truly need was being obscured by my father’s own motive? What if I was being deceived into thinking that my name being powerful and strong would give me some sort of sense that I belong?”
Hubert recalls back to the days at Garreg Mach, where the seventeen year old Aegir son did everything in his power to surpass Edelgard. An immature kid with big dreams that only ever wanted validation.
Ferdinand turns back to Hubert, who still wears an unfaltering expression.
“Maybe I am just as selfish as my father was, and what I really desire is just love.” He admits, quietly, the words thickening the air like smoke. Ferdinand ducks down the moment after he says it.
“I apologize.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “I… may have turned this conversation in a far darker direction than intended. Maybe you should leave-“
Hubert brings his hand to rest on Ferdinand’s shoulder. The recipient pauses, lifting himself back up and eyeing the hand cautiously. The last time Hubert did that, Ferdinand’s lance was in his father.
“I understand, Ferdinand. Do not worry.” Hubert assures him, in the most gentle way he can muster.
His heart aches when Ferdinand leans into him, reluctantly resting his head on his shoulder, as if he was scared as to how Hubert would react. Hubert does not push him away. Instead, they sit in silence together, Hubert’s arm around his waist, and he believes things are looking up from here.
-
After that encounter, Hubert has been very inconveniently plagued with thoughts of Ferdinand von Aegir.
He does not understand why. There’s an urge, a light that beckons him. It’s as if Ferdinand glows, and Hubert feeds off of its energy. It does not help that Ferdinand is more comfortable with him as of late, going out of his way to visit and converse with Hubert. No one other than Edelgard has ever taken the time to do such a thing. It’s a sign of trust, as Hubert takes it, between two who have seen Void and back together. Who have known one another since childhood, and have seen each other at their respective worst. Who have grown from mutual hatred to mutual respect- two men who were no longer the chiding and bickering teenagers they once were back at the monastery.
Both of them are far from vulnerable creatures. Ferdinand keeps his emotions on a shelf, bottled and never opened. You can see them, but you’ll never be able to touch them. He keeps his walls up, possessing a strong and optimistic presence to anyone that has ever known him. It’s admirable. Hubert finds it intoxicating.
Meanwhile, Hubert’s emotions are not in a bottle on a shelf, but in a safe. Locked away with a password that no one knows- not even himself. The average person would not be able to feel them, or see them. It leaves Hubert feeling cold.
Apparently, Ferdinand is no average person. Because he keeps coming back. And when he comes back, he leaves with Hubert a fool wanting more.
-
Hubert takes his leisure to read War’s End in Spring as they hightail it to Ailell, hoping to end the war once and for all. There is still much to be done, but Hubert cannot help himself to implore his… newfound interest. Which is this book, to put it plainly. He’s even more invested than the last, pouring his heart and soul into the lives of fiction characters. There’s something that changed within him the past few weeks, and he’s letting a wall down further as he reads.
Maybe it was the increasing rate at which he and Ferdinand have gotten closer.
…Maybe.
That is to say, he still does this privately, as to avoid humiliation. Not to mention that this novel is exceptionally more erotic . To be caught in public reading it would be a shame on his name.
Hubert wonders if Ferdinand intentionally picked such a novel as to make him embarrassed. Well, by Goddess, it worked. Hubert was not used to this type of intensity. It was like taking the fire of romance and feeding the flame, yearning for it. He found himself shocked he was becoming accustomed to such a practice. The more he read, the more he revelled in it, thinking, is this truly what I have been missing out on all this time?
It is not long before he plops War’s End in Spring onto Ferdinand’s lap preceding their next battle. While it also was shorter than the last book, Hubert read it at exceptional speed. Ferdinand appears shocked when the book suddenly materializes. He looks up at Hubert.
“I finished.” Hubert stands there, awkwardly, wishing he had something to guard himself with. He decides crossing his arms over his chest will do. Ferdinand sets the book on a nearby table and stands up.
“That was quick, was it not, Hubert?” There’s a glint of mischief to his gaze. Hubert holds himself back from clawing Ferdinand’s eyes out.
“Don’t press it, Ferdinand.” He lightly warns.
“Oh, what? I am just saying that…” Ferdinand mirrors Hubert’s pose. “You must have enjoyed it, to be reading at such a crucial time. Am I correct?”
Hubert’s face turns red.
“I don’t see how that is your business. And, I will have you know, I’ve been putting my utmost attention into this ‘crucial time’.” Hubert grinds his teeth together, and Ferdinand laughs, seeming to find enjoyment in his distress.
“It is my business, because I’m the one who gave you the book.” Ferdinand leans against the wall smugly, crossing his legs. “Well? What’s your favorite part?”
“Are you serious?” Hubert pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I personally enjoyed the scene where Lydia was helpless at Omar’s disposal, and unable t-“
“Ferdinand, that is quite enough.” Hubert hisses, eyebrows furrowed. Why, they were in public! He frantically looks around the common area, but it doesn’t appear as if anyone had heard or cared.
Ferdinand sighs and lays back against the wall, looking up in thought. “Oh, alright.” He turns back to Hubert, still smiling. “But I do expect an articulated response to my question”
“Which is?”
“What do you think of love?”
Hubert tenses up. He knows he must be forthright and honest, but he can’t help but feel scared. Why? It’s not as if Hubert was confessing , or anything silly like that.
No way would Hubert ever imagine himself in either of those novels, for a fleeting and indulging moment, in the middle of the night when he was alone and his thoughts were sacred. No way would he consider the option that he, too, could have a love story. For what purpose would it serve now, out of all times, to be exposed in such a way? When the war was still being waged?
“I…” Hubert trails off, and finds landing in Ferdinand’s eyes. They blink back at him, warm and gentle. Like he could tell them anything. Like they’d engulf him, and he would allow them to. Suddenly the war does not matter.
Hubert regains his composure. Enough of that. He is not a damn poet, he is a cold-blooded killer and an objective advisor to Lady Edelgard. Such frivolous topics cannot waste his energy like it’s currently doing. What he needs to be worrying about is war.
“I decided I have nothing to share with you. A good read it was, but love is lost to me.”
“Oh, for Goddesses sake!” Ferdinand shouts and throws his arms up. He’s clearly frustrated now, as he always ends up being when they talk. Is Hubert truly that infuriating? “Is that really what you think?”
“Yes, in fact, it is.” He retorts, snarling defensively. “I don’t understand your dramatics.” Ferdinand’s arms flop helplessly to his sides.
“You know what? I cannot say I’m surprised.” Ferdinand shakes his head, and a bitter, dry laugh escapes his lips. “Why did I think you would understand?”
The words sting. Hubert fights the urge to clutch his chest in repulsion.
“I have to say, Ferdinand.” Hubert chides, pulling his arms behind his back, hiding his true thoughts with a blank countenance. “You find the oddest things to be infuriated with, almost like a child”
“If that is what you think, be my guest. But your emotional constipation never ceases to amaze me.” Ferdinand sits back down in the wooden seat, crossing one leg over the other. He makes a hand gesture that Hubert can only guess means ‘go away, I want no more of you’.
…But it’s just banter. Right?
Hubert gets the idea that he may have said something wrong. He storms away nonetheless, knots in his stomach.
-
If things could not get any worse, they did.
Edelgard and Shez have gone missing, along with the king of Faerghus, and Claude von Riegan. A recipe for disaster.
This is, Hubert decides, the worst possible outcome that could have ever occured. He is thoroughly and decently fucked . And Hubert is not one to normally use such obscene words, but fuck, fuck, and more fuck. He is losing his mind.
The Black Eagle Strike Force gathers chaotically in the command center, all with different, unique reactions. Linhardt regains his quiet and contemplative nature, Caspar grumbles incomprehensibly under his breath, and Bernadetta weeps and wails in a mess of shrieky tears, in a manner that Hubert finds dreadful to his ears. It annoys him so much, in fact, that he whips towards Bernadetta fiercely, a bubbling rage bursting off his tongue like vomit.
“Will you shut up, Bernadetta?!” He shouts. The room goes silent. Bernadetta squeals and makes a series of scared noises, darting to the other end of the room, finding solace under a side table. All eyes are on him, now, and they are not happy.
“Hubert.” Dorothea darkens, the usual nickname lost. “That is no way to speak to her”
Hubert fidgets. Nothing that comes out of his mouth next should be anything good, so he clamps his jaw shut. Monica decides to take a step forward, hands on her hips and cheeks stained with tears and mascara. Her hair is unkempt, and her chest heaves.
Hubert has never quite liked Monica. He is respectable around her, knowing of her relationship to Edelgard, but that doesn’t mean he has to like her.
“You think you’re the only one upset right now, Hubert?” Monica snaps, a trembling finger pointing at him accusingly. “Well you’re wrong ! Her Majesty means as much to me as she does to you, maybe even more , and you don’t see me treating people like crap, do you?”
Hubert cannot help his desire to put Monica in her place, so he whips around and stares down at her like she is just a pebble in the way of his foot. His jealousy takes the best of him.
“You will never have the relationship that me and Her Majesty have.” Hubert glowers, eyes dark. “I have been her aid since we were six years of age. I know secrets about her that no one else ever will. And you try to tell me to keep my cool? Pathetic. You are pathetic”
Monica clenches her teeth, her eyes watering.
“I cannot believe that Lady Edelgard is so close to someone like you.” Monica’s voice is queasy, wavering, waiting at any moment to collapse beneath itself. Her breath staggers. “So heartless and cold. It makes me sick to my stomach to think she blindly trusts in such a narcissistic scumbag !”
The room goes silent.
Until Ferdinand steps forward.
“Stop fighting.” He growls, loud and forcefully, causing the whole room to stare his way, including Hubert, who frowns guiltily. “Both of you, stop it. Imagine if Edelgard heard what you two were saying? She would be unbelievably disappointed!”
Hubert looks away. Ferdinand is right. Monica shakes.
“She wouldn’t, because of how Hubert manipulates her so!” Monica exclaims, shaking her head. “There is no other explanation to how she’s convinced he’s a good person!”
The flame of anger ignites within Hubert once more. He takes a step forward. “I can’t believe you doubt my integrity. I have dedicated my whole life into making Fodlan a better place for its people, to protecting Her Majesty, and you-“
“ Enough , Hubert.” Ferdinand hisses. Hubert falls silent.
“Monica.” Ferdinand says next, crossing his arms over his chest. “You should leave”
“What?” She gasps.
“This argument is getting us nowhere. I don’t see Edelgard appearing anytime soon if this keeps up. We will send out countless search parties immediately- it’s not like she could have gone far. Other than that, all we can do is wait. Spending that time name-calling is, quite frankly, childish.” Ferdinand does not sugar coat any words, but he stays grounded, taking leadership of the group easily. He’s always been good at such a thing. Hubert is grateful for it; it got him to shut his mouth.
“I agree.” Petra steps forward, stone-faced. “I will be doing this now. How many search parties?”
“Thank you, Petra. Three or four should be good.” Ferdinand sighs, and Petra sets off. “Everyone else, go get some rest.” He doesn’t have to tell them twice, because they follow after Petra, their expressions grim. The last to do so is Monica, hatefully sparing Hubert a scowl behind her shoulder, storming off.
Hubert watches her go in silence, until it is only he and Ferdinand left.
Once the room is uninhabited, Hubert begins pacing back and forth in a frenzy, down the long table and back around again. Why does he insist on making things worse and worse? He haphazardly runs fingers through his hair. In the corner, he is aware of Ferdinand watching him, his hair covering his eyes as he hangs his head. Why is he still here? Why hasn’t Ferdinand left just like the rest?
“If I had not opened my mouth.” Hubert drags a hand down his face.
“I have to agree it would have been ideal, but there is no use dreading it now. You will make amends in the morning.” Ferdinand says. Since when was Ferdinand the one with the clear head between them?
“I will admit, though.” Ferdinand clenches his fist, staring at it. “I am fucking furious”
“Me as well.” Hubert sighs, finding odd comfort in how out of character it is for Ferdinand to utter such ‘uncivilized’ language. He’s sure to tease him later, but he is currently in no mood for playing around. But perhaps they both were being out of character, currently- the way that Hubert is reacting so drastically. Why, he’s supposed to be calm and calculating. Whatever happened to that, huh? He pulls out a chair and sinks into it, digging his fingernails into his scalp.
He tries- forces himself not to cry.
Hubert would die by Thales’ blade before ever even considering losing Edelgard. This is not a matter of politics or necessity, or even in Fodlan’s better interest. It is because he loves her. He realizes how important that is now. He would do everything in his power to ensure her safety, regardless of the outcome. Logic does not hold much significance now.
He suddenly feels a gentle grip on his arm. Hubert sucks back the tears threatening to spill, and faces the man sitting next to him.
“Do not cry, Hubert.” Ferdinand pleads. His eyes are wide with concern.
“I am not .” Hubert growls, casting daggers in his direction. He is incredibly tired and unhappy.
“I know you might, Hubert, don’t lie to me.” Ferdinand says, with a firmness that Hubert needs to hear. “Anyone with a brain understands what Edelgard means to you. I, out of anyone, should know the extent of it”
“Tell me what you feel, Hubert.” Ferdinand urges. “I’m here”
Hubert sighs, a tremble in his voice. His hands are shaking. Since when have they been shaking?
“I don’t know what to say. I am… simply defeated.” Hubert is aghast. “I usually consider every possible obstacle, but I can say that the two of them disappearing while Shez is in such a state is anything but hopeful. It makes me sick to my stomach what might happen. I should have known. I should have exterminated Shez when I had the chance. I swear , if she even such as lays a finger…! ”
Before Hubert can explode into a million pieces, Ferdinand brings a hand to his shoulder. Hubert pauses numbly, the eruption he anticipated ceasing at once, looking at the man beside him wearily, his nerves fizzling out back down his body. He releases a deep sigh. Ferdinand’s thumb runs along his arm.
“She’ll be okay, Hubert.” Ferdinand says, gently, not without reassurance. “Edelgard will be okay. She always is.” And in that moment, that blind optimism that Hubert used to hate, helps. It is not logical, and it has no proof whatsoever, but… so doesn’t love. And Hubert loves Edelgard. And he loves…
“Ferdinand.” Hubert ashamedly shakes his head. “I’m sorry about the other day. You seem to have gotten upset with me. I was-“
Ferdinand responds by cupping their hands together. Hubert’s stomach swoops, and his cheeks redden.
“You were just being you.” Ferdinand soothes, quietly, a smile toying his lips. “And I was just being me”
“…Yes.” Relief washes over Hubert instantly, his fingertips tingling and his heart burning. “Yes, you’re right”
“I always am.” Ferdinand teases lightly, and Hubert suppresses a small smile.
“Any other day I beg to differ, but for now I will let it slide.” Hubert whispers.
And their conversation ends there, no more to be said. They continue to sit together in silence, and that speaks louder than any words between them would. Illuminated only by moonlight, Hubert does not know how long they sit like this, but he does not bother to care.
-
A slightly younger Hubert sits alone, waiting for Edelgard to be finished with her arrangements. But that part is irrelevant.
As he waits for his Lady, a very specific menace of a person is approaching Hubert's peripheral vision. With the taste of bile in his mouth, Hubert wishes to cast a spell of poison, and rid himself from the world before the heir of House Aegir makes it over to him.
“Hubert.” Ferdinand addresses politely. Dammit, he made it over. Hubert stares at him plainly.
This version of Ferdinand still has his short hair. A symbol of restrictment, maybe. Whatever the case may be, Ferdinand was holding a different demeanor toward Hubert than he usually did. It was softer, and less defensive than their usual encounters.
“I heard about your father.” He says.
Hubert does not waver at that. He continues to stand by the door, still as a board.
“And what about him?” Hubert replies. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle. One of his hands curl reflexively into a fist at the mention of the late bastard.
“I don’t know what your relationship was like with Lord Vestra.” Ferdinand begins, neatly folding his hands on his chest. “But I wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss”
Hubert releases his fist, appalled.
Hubert does not feel sorry for his father. He especially did not feel sorry after he killed him in his own office. But Ferdinand, innocent to Hubert’s life, had no clue of the real truth surrounding his father’s death. That Hubert ended it by his own hand. He figures Ferdinand would never understand. Ironic that is, isn’t it?
“I… appreciate your sentiment, Ferdinand.” Hubert bows his head, slightly. “I did not take you one to do such a thing”
Ferdinand’s light demeanor swiftly morphed into typical annoyance. His eye twitched. Ah, there it is.
“What is that supposed to imply? Are you calling me uncouth?” He shouts.
“Perhaps I wouldn’t if you did not act like it.” Hubert retorts, defensive of Ferdinand's sudden outburst. Ferdinand gasps.
“Why- I cannot believe I even considered coming over here to show my sentiments, when you clearly do not care for them!”
“Are you without ears? I thanked you for your words. Why do you always manage to make everything about you? My father is the one who died!”
The door opens, and their banter is sent to a sudden halt. Edelgard stands there, exasperated, eyes moving between the two of them.
“Will you two just…” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Stop fighting?”
-
Hubert does not recall when he falls asleep. It’s only when he wakes up does he realize he’s not in his quarters, but face planted uncomfortably into the discussion table of the command center. How long has he been out? He immediately stands up from his chair, a spot of pain shooting through his neck. He hisses and grasps at it, and this sound stirs Ferdinand, who had slept beside him.
Wait… what?
Hubert feels the blood rise to his face. Ferdinand rubs his eyes, half-awake and lost to his whereabouts.
“Huh?” He murmurs.
“Ferdinand, we must have fell asleep.” Hubert clears his throat awkwardly. Ferdinand slowly processes the words, until he finally gets it, and springs up, scrambling. His hair is plastered to the left side of his face, and he frantically pulls it off.
“Ah. Oh.” He stutters, embarrassed. “I apologize, Hubert, I don’t recall-“
Hubert stiffens. Right. Her Majesty. He needs an update on that at once. He whips around, hurriedly taking his leave from the room, storming out into the courtyard and down the stone staircase. He can hear Ferdinand’s quick footsteps follow him.
Hubert reaches the bottom, turns around, and sees a group of people walking toward him. Leading the mass is…
Edelgard. It is Lady Edelgard in the flesh, accompanied by the rest of the Black Eagles. She smiles at him earnestly as she approaches, with a glint in her eyes that teases Hubert for ever having doubted her.
“Her Majesty.” Hubert gapes.
In one swift movement he is at her side, her arms outstretched in anticipation for an embrace. He returns the sentiment with a light hug, lasting only a few moments, before Hubert turns away and revels in his relief. She is okay. Oh, she is okay!
“I am very relieved to see you.” Hubert says with astonishment. “Words cannot describe the agony I was put through, wondering what happened and where you went. Why, I considered the worst of the worst. The thought of you dead pained me greatly, I-”
“I am okay now, Hubert, don’t worry.” Edelgard nods, turning slightly to regard Ferdinand, who stands behind Hubert politely.
“I’m glad to see your return, Edelgard. We’d be lost without you in these final moments.” Ferdinand smiles.
Hubert is not smiling, though. He turns towards the elephant in the room, and so does everyone else. Shez pales.
“Shez.” Hubert’s features darken. His coat sweeps the floor as he rushes to her forefront, using his height to loom over her with malicious intent. He can hear panicked voices in the distant background, but he fails to acknowledge them, his eyes glued to the woman standing beneath him. “You are back as well, I take it”
“Hubert.” Shez lays a hand to her chest, looking down at her feet sincerely. “I don’t know how to properly apologize. I know your trust in me is likely completely shattered. But Arval- or, er, Epimendes, is gone now- so they shouldn’t be a problem anymore”
Hubert’s head aches at this new information. “Epimendes? Who in the Void is Epimendes?”
“We will discuss that matter to much length later.” Edelgard responds, comforting hand on his shoulder. Her presence grounds him. “For now, we need to get to work immediately”
“ Actually , Her Majesty, before that.” The shrill of Monica’s voice causes Hubert to wince. “I believe Hubert has an apology to make to us for his obscene and inappropriate outburst”
Edelgard opens her mouth, and then closes it, sighing, as if to say ‘oh, Hubert, of course you found a way to hurt someone’s feelings in my absence’.
“I will not apologize to you, Monica.” Hubert sneers, and the redhead gasps. Hubert turns to Bernadetta instead.
“To you, however, I… apologize.” Hubert mumbles, hanging his head in forgiveness, hand to his chest. “I lashed out to you for being severe, and that was hypocritical of me. You clearly were worried for Her Majesty all the same”
Bernadetta, who had been keeping her distance from Hubert, smiles wearily, eyes still watery. She bites her nails nervously. “That- that is okay, Hubert. I, umm… apologize, too, for being inconsiderate- and- and annoying…”
“Now hug it out!” Caspar shakes his fist gleefully.
“I will do no such thing.” Hubert turns abruptly, returning to his normal state of being. “Now all of you, back to work! Stop slacking!” He barks.
Everyone settles into groans, chattering and slinking off into their respective duties. He swears in the corner of his eye he can see Ferdinand linger, smiling fondly, before disappearing.
“Alright.” Edelgard turns to Hubert tiredly, lending out her arm for Hubert to hold. “Let’s end the war. This is getting old”
-
It’s the night of the final battle.
Hubert has been unable to take any breaks. He’s been fully invested in his work for the past week, making sure everything is planned to go as perfect as perfect can go. Of course, when there is a war, there is no doubt obstacles will come in the way- homage to Shez’s possession of that evil spirit- but Hubert is determined to see this last fight through. He hopes, no, he knows , that they will win. What is left to wait for is time. That’s with everything, isn’t it? Time?
Cold air rushes into his tent as a certain someone invites himself in without as much as a knock.
“Hubert?” Ferdinand stands there in the entrance helplessly. Hubert turns around and perks an eyebrow. He hadn’t spoken with Ferdinand in this recent chaos, and seeing his face was an unexpected solace.
“Ferdinand?” Hubert faces him fully and goads. “Is there something you need that didn’t require an invitation into my tent?”
Ferdinand grins and rocks on his heels. “I just assumed we were close enough by now that you would not mind”
He’s right. But still.
“Get on with it.”
“Right. Well.” Ferdinand changes demeanor quickly, pursing his lip. He sighs. “I cannot sleep, Hubert. This is a fight like no other. This is- the determination of everything we’ve been fighting for. It’s scary, is it not?”
“Yes, it is.” Hubert readily agrees, his mattress dipping as he sits upon it. He pats the spot next to him. Ferdinand understands the gesture, and he sits closer than Hubert anticipated. He’s very warm, against his side. Hubert finds it very welcoming.
“But we will not die yet, Ferdinand. We still have work to be done after the war.” Hubert says, quietly, green eyes meeting amber. “What would Edelgard do without us?”
What would I do without you?
As if Ferdinand could hear his thoughts, his eyes pierced into Hubert’s soul. He felt himself becoming undone. He was acutely aware at how stupidly sappy his thoughts have become, and how it was nothing like him at all. Like him, Hubert von Vestra, destined to be Fodlan’s shadow forever. And Ferdinand, who was ever so gracefully their light. That’s all they were ever known as to everyone else, and were always compared in that manner- Hubert was a cold soul with an inability for empathy, and Ferdinand was a warm, charismatic beauty, who attracted all the eyes into every room he walked into.
He had not realized how close they were until Ferdinand spoke once more.
“Will you promise me that?” Ferdinand whispers.
“Promise you what, exactly?” Hubert breathes. He could think of nothing else but the curls of Ferdinand’s hair framing his face, and his sharp amber eyes, and his freckles, and-
“That you won’t die yet.”
“Is that what this is about?” Hubert is a bit taken aback at the revelation that Ferdinand is worried about him , of all people to be concerned over, but he does not move back from his spot.
“I- well, you are…” Ferdinand looks down. “The dearest person in my life, Hubert. It would be a shame if you were taken from me”
Oh. Hubert’s stomach turns itself inside out, his face fuzzy and light. Luckily Ferdinand’s gaze is down, and fails to notice Hubert’s loss of composure. He feels like a child. He yearns to tell Ferdinand the same thing.
He does not know why his hand does what it does and without his permission, but it reaches towards Ferdinand’s cheek and guides it upwards, his glove securely pressed against his face. Ferdinand’s eyes widen in surprise at the act. Hubert himself is even in a state of shock. But he wanted to do it. That’s a funny thing, want, isn’t it? Oh, those accursed romance novels for introducing such a hindrance.
Hubert’s throat closes up, as he begs to speak. He yearns to shout his true feelings through the rooftops- that perhaps, somewhere along the current, he had picked up a decent amount of affection for Ferdinand von Aegir. He can’t do it. He’s… scared , and Hubert is never scared. Not even as he fights to defend his life on the battlefield. Not even as he sneaks into his father’s study in the late night to slit his throat. A locked away guilt swells in the depths of Hubert’s consciousness, and he pushes back against it.
No. He can’t be doing this.
He releases his hand from Ferdinand’s face, and lousily drops it to his side. Ferdinand’s eyes flicker.
“I can’t promise my life, Ferdinand.” Hubert’s voice is low and raspy, and he hopes it isn’t obvious he’s upset.
“Why the Void not?” Ferdinand sits up, puffing his chest.
“Because…”
Because I would do anything it takes to protect you, even if that means death.
“I have a promise to Lady Edelgard.” Hubert murmurs, ripping away from the piercing stare of amber. “If the situation permits, I will not hesitate to put my life on the line to-“
He’s interrupted by a merciless grip to his collar, the fabric bunched in a shaking fist. Ferdinand’s teeth are clenched, his eyes wide, and he’s yanking Hubert’s face only inches from his own. Hubert chokes against the tug of his garment.
“Are you absurd ?” Ferdinand shouts.
Hubert stares at him, expression unwavering, as he always is. This makes Ferdinand shake him around harder. Hubert’s head pulses at the force that comes with being thrown about.
“Let go of me.” Hubert growls.
“Not until you realize how insane you are being!” Ferdinand insists, eyes narrowing. “Would you really let yourself die at the expense of another person?”
“If the person is someone as important to Fodlan’s future as my Lady, then yes.” Hubert says. Ferdinand gives him another good shake.
“Well don’t !” He yells. Hubert stares starkly at the hand that grips him, yet he doesn’t take any action to pry himself away. The guilt that swims in his core tells him he deserves to be pushed around like this. That Ferdinand is just in his explosive reaction.
“You come at me, but would you not do the same?” Hubert gravely lowers his head, his hair falling over his face. “Would you not be killed to ensure the protection of our friends?”
Ferdinand falls silent. His stare on Hubert never leaves.
“I would only do such a thing for one person.” Ferdinand whispers, so intimately that Hubert almost foolishly believes in his reciprocation. He quickly comes to the haunting conclusion that Ferdinand is talking about Edelgard.
“Then you are a hypocritical man.” Hubert hisses. “Let go of me”
Ferdinand releases his grip on Hubert’s collar. Hubert falls back, rubbing at his throat.
“I am not going to apologize. I mean every word of what I said.” Ferdinand looks abnormally choked up. “I would be devastated if… if something ever were to happen to you…”
Hubert sighs, and his features soften. All of this arguing, simply because Ferdinand doesn’t want him dead. Neither of them ever know when to let up. “I know”
Ferdinand smiles.
“We really are fools, bickering with each other whenever the situation calls for it.” He shakes his head, and lets out a soft laugh. Hubert can’t help but chuckle himself.
“Yes… we really are idiots.” He admits, smiling back.
Hubert hadn’t noticed that Ferdinand was back in close proximity, their noses only a few inches away from collision. Ferdinand’s breathing slows, his eyes darting around Hubert’s face, until the eventuality occurs that they land on his lips.
“Hubert?” Ferdinand breathes. Hubert’s own breath hitches.
“…Yes?” He rasps. He thinks something is going to happen, the way Ferdinand slowly leans closer.
“If you were to die.” He says, his lips lingering on Hubert’s own. “The only hand I’d allow it to be is my own”
“Are you threatening me?” Hubert whispers, a slight upturn to his mouth.
“I read it once, in a book.” Ferdinand grins. “What do you think?”
“I think…” Hubert stares at Ferdinand’s lips. “That might be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said”
“Not as stupid as this-?” Ferdinand whispers. And then he kisses him.