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“Why Hubie,” Dorthea’s beautiful half-lidded green eyes duplicate a fox’s cleverness. A porcelain teacup lifted to her pretty red amused lips.
Hubert von Vestra fidgeted under her gaze.
“That’s what we call a crush.”
The gloomy mage had invited the actress over for tea to discuss this new unfamiliar and annoying feeling gnawing at his heart like a parasite. He’s a merciless and studious being in all aspects so it’s funny to Dorthea to see Hubert panicking.
Eyeing her spitefully, he leaned forward expectantly, angry that she’s so delighted by his suffering. “Is…is it deadly?”
Dorthea laughed. Oh sweet, sweet Hubie. She never imagined seeing him fall head-over-heels for someone.
“Whatever this horrid feeling is, it’s disrupting my service to Lady Edelgard’s safety and success.” He narrowed his eyes dangerously as Dorthea laughed again.
“You’re so sweet Hubie. Mercy to the person who caught your eye!”
“Less jokes and more solutions, Arnault.”
The songstress sighed and put her teacup down. “A crush is good for you.”
“Is it?” Hubert spat. “Every time I see them I get all sick and a flutter in my chest. I think about them a lot. Is it a damned curse? L/N is ruining my astute concentration!”
“As a talented and hardworking actress I can tell a lot about how people feel with their voice. You refuse to say their name. But just then –it told me everything. You really adore them! Your scary voice softens when you say their name.”
Vestra flinched as if he had been wounded by an unseen knife.
Dorthea sighed. “You overwork yourself, Hubie. Edie does value your help but without some fun in life, you’ll get dull. How does a soldier get better as his craft?”
“Strict routine.”
“Well yes but also new experiences. Think of this as helping you become a better soldier for Edie.”
The dark mage doesn’t respond. Sickly golden eyes stare into the dark tea, perplexed.
“How did you fall for them?” She asked.
Hubert begrudgingly told the story.
Normally Vestra despises most people around him. He views himself as a weapon for Edelgard’s ideals. Nothing more. He’ll slay all her enemies and save those she deems worthy. But Y/N? He saw them on one of his walks, looking for weakness in Garreg Mach. Nothing about it was particularly extraordinary from an ordinary passerby.
Initially he was captivated and curious. For whatever reason he remained still and watched them from afar. L/N’s back is to Hubert and their soft [color] hair shifted slightly in the wind. All their focus was on a blank canvas. From their perspective they have a perfect view of Seiros watchtowers framing a blue-gold foggy dawn and the distant hillsides. Hubert is faintly amused by this. Don’t painters wish to capture the whimsical, not the macabre? Instead of all the colorful flowers that scarred the shimmery hills, they painted gravestones and leafless trees. Hubert was never drawn to the arts, finding them a waste of time, but he now felt a smile melt his stone-faced expression.
“Love at first sight?! How romantic!” Dorthea poured herself another cup of tea. “It’s so Shakespearian! I wish you the best of luck in your adventure, Hubie. If you wish to talk again I’m always here to help my friends.”
Hubert stiffly bowed and thanked Dorthea before leaving. Before this he also asked Lady Edelgard about his…crush and she too seemed enthusiastic about it. With her blessing and Dorthea’s advice that settles it. He won’t cast aside these feelings for the painter.
Many people are fearful of Hubert von Vestra. He is delighted about this. But when it comes to making friends he has zero amiable mannerisms that the others do.
Y/N was recently recruited to the Black Eagles by Byleth. When Hubert decided to sit next to them the entire table became tense and quiet. It’s like a snake dining with mice and squirrels. Just do what Lady Edelgard, Dorthea, and Petra said…
“Morning Hubert,” they turn to him and smile. “Petra and I sparred today and she told me you’re a great fighter. Would you like to spar with me after class?”
Nobody ever asks to spar with Hubert. He’s certainly curious –and thankful for Petra’s help. He’ll pay back his debt to her.
This way he can learn more about his obsession.
At night Vestra paces the grounds, alone with his thoughts. Things are going smoothly. Soon Seiros will be dust before the empire. Edelgard told him how Byleth is willing to help the uprising. He’s fine leaving this pompous place as scorched earth but he listens to Lady Edelgard’s ambition and ideals. It’s time that things in Fodlon change –to recreate a world where those with selfless hearts and amazing intelligence make the rules and those of snobby nobility are thrown to the bottom step of society. They should understand where the common class has been suffering for generations…
A shadow dashing across the parapets drags Hubert out from his thoughts. He tilts his head and calls out, “If you wish to fight foe be warned, I will draw my blade with no mercy.”
Y/N smiles at him from above. “I guess we were thinking the same thing. A nice walk on a beautiful night shouldn’t be missed.” They reach out a hand and Hubert grabs it, instantly feeling electricity shoot through his being, like some strange spell. Y/N helps him up the parapet and they sit side by side viewing the darkness. From here they see the immense architecture of Seiros, so mighty and still like an ancient mountain. Hubert wondered how pretty it’d look surrounded in flames?
“The night is moonless. In such lightlessness I wonder what ethereal things we may see?”
Hubert smiled. The pair has a penchant for scary stories and witnessing small paranormal events around Garreg Mach. A fun pass time for them both.
Grabbing a small canvas and paints from their bag Y/N asked, “May I paint you?”
No one has ever offered before. Not even the artistic Ignatz, who was always looking for another subject. Hubert feels honored. He lovingly watches Y/N painting, how their brows scrunch in deep concentration, how their [color] eyes behold Hubert with such veneration.
“Why did you want to be friends with me?” Vestra’s heart seemed to blurt that out more than his lungs or tongue did. The question has been burning for a while. People don’t befriend Hubert because they want to; they befriend him because they usually want to get to Lady Edelgard, for her wealth, status, or crest.
But Y/N is someone extraordinary. Some bizarre cipher he can’t possibly decode.
[Color] eyes lift from the canvas. “You’re dedicated, smart, and command the room. Those are qualities I lack and admire. You are…a knife. Something brave, deadly,” they change one brush for another. “And you have undaunted loyalty. I hate cowards. Too many are in this world and they ruin the lives of others without remorse. There should be more people like you, Hubert.”
What is this pain? He clutches his heart. Vestra feels like he can take on an entire army alone, and leave unscathed by Y/N’s sentiment.
“I’d say you’re an excellent rogue. Someone that sharp who can astound me, surely deserves acknowledgment. You…you’ve been the only one to listen and understand my troubles, Y/N. For that I can’t thank you enough.”
The mage has always been the one to carry Lady Edelgard’s troubles. With Y/N, Hubert lets them see through the frosted, darkened window to his heart. All of Vestra’s militaristic formalities and sarcastic sting vanishes in their presence.
At first Hubert believed it to be a weakness decaying him from the inside. Now? “I wish to never be apart from you, Y/N. Do you feel the same?”
Y/N smiled. “I do.”
Hubert von Vestra feels his heart want to leap out from his throat. Those two words, two mere words, not a blade nor a magic curse, made him almost collapse. Y/N catches him and blushes, hearing the man’s heart racing. The warmth in their hug shields them from the night’s brisk wind, signaling the sun’s arrival. The two looked at the painting. Hubert was standing against the stone wall, half shadowed by darkness. His face is stern (when isn’t it?) but it captures his villainous charm. Truly nobody has ever highlighted Vestra with his intimidating features as handsome.
Today is the turning point. A historic moment. Seiros has always been the bastion of peace and dignity. No more. The Adrestian Empire shall takeover and mend all the damage Rhea has caused. Lady Edelgard declares war and most of the weaker and spineless houses capitulate. With him, Lady Edelgard, and Byleth, their conquest is unstoppable.
Everyone who sides with the uprising had to run from Seiros. Within a temporary shelter they can heal wounds and regroup. Everything has been a success so far.
Even then, worry latched onto Hubert’s heart. What is he loses Y/N? A great tactician can’t even plan for the unexpected. Fortunately he sees them talking among all their classmates, unharmed.
They are covered in the enemies’ blood. He had seen them just as he helped Lady Edelgard escape, slaying all those who were attacking them and their friends. Dark red seemed such a beautiful color on them at that moment. It gave them a godly otherworldly glow, an omen for death and scorched earth, a sight Hubert wouldn’t ever get tired of.
Y/N tackles their lover. “Everyone is accounted for. Some are injured but we all made it.”
Hubert holds their hand and kisses their knuckles.
“Please, don’t die thoughtlessly.”
The man smiled. “No man, immortal, or god will survive my deadly magic.”
Blood saturates the earth. The battlefield is vandalized by piles of the dead. The air is deafeningly silent. The war is finally over. Edelgard executed all the heartless fools that still opposed the Adrestian Empire. The grand feast has long since passed. Servants move about meekly, sweeping away dust and adjusting the askew in the corridors of the castle.
Sweet-sounding laughter sends quaking shocks through Hubert. He wishes to capture such a sound in a flask for eternity. For the past five months Y/N was tasked to paint a mural, picturing Edelgard, Hubert, Byleth, and those most loyal to the empire. He knew they worked tirelessly so he often brought them food and drink.
He hates it, but Y/N has become very popular in Lady Edelgard’s court. Their wit and humor have gained many an admirer. People don’t even acknowledge that Hubert and Y/N are a couple. It makes the dark magic froth in his blood.
When he enters the room he sees a couple (Petra and Linhardt) laughing with the painter before departing. A general hovered by until they left and muttered something Hubert couldn’t hear. But he can guess from Y/N’s disgusted reaction that it was vile, sleazy compliments. They avoid a physical exchange by tugging their arm away as the general tries to pull them close.
Hubert grinned at this. Y/N is loving and faithful.
But Vestra hates anyone –mere man, immortal, or god- who tries to split them apart.
The dark mage clears his throat. The general is shocked and runs from the room sputtering a goodbye. What a coward. If he had any grain of bravery or honor he’d of willingingly fought to the death. If love is true, you don’t back down from it.
Hubert kisses his lover and studies the mural. “It looks amazing.”
“Thank you. It’s hard getting all the details just right. Balancing light and shadow,” they laughed. No matter. Hubert is here now and he deserves all their affection, all their attention. And Y/N happily obliges.
Since being married (the Black Eagles cheer at this!) Y/N has never left Hubert’s side at his request. Edelgard and Byleth are traveling across Fodlon to mend the damages done by the war. It’s been difficult long journey, but one that must be done from a diplomatic sense. At least in times of rest Y/N can paint. After Hubert’s meetings he’d come back with new paint.
Excited to create morbid landscapes again they quickly set up a canvas. Opening the jars they get a whiff of the pain and –it somehow reminds them of decay, death, and loss. A pungent metallic smell makes them hesitate for a moment.
No. Paint always smells metallic.
A paintbrush plunges into the glass jar. Y/N notices that many of the colors are red. The others are dark, murky, and muddy. Strange.
They start painting. During their journey Y/N vaguely noticed that some of the generals, soldiers, and noblemen would depart suddenly. Nobody seemed worried, so Y/N guessed that they had went back to the castle.
However, Edelgard and Hubert had them either dismissed, exiled, or beheaded.
As they paint they can’t help but think subconsciously of disembowelment and bloodshed.
…Why aren’t the colors blending like they should? No matter what tool or technique they use, the painting refuses to follow the artist’s will.
Terror pales their features as they realize that the paint is mixed with a great amount of blood.