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Ferdinand stood proudly with the legendary Black Eagles as the sea of free citizens cheered for their heroes and a United Fodlan. All sang praises to Emperor Edelgard Hresvelg of Adrestia.
That was last month.
The fireplace had long gone out. The dark bedroom of shadows was chilly as the warm sun was barely breaking through the curtains. Ferdinand coiled himself in blankets and bedsheets to not only escape from the chill but also from the day. His body felt aching pain that rendered him as tense as a pulled bowstring, and the chill in the air did nothing to numb it.
The ornate red and blue coat and Cavalier armor he had worn for days were now folded upon the chair. His lance beside him. He knew he was safe. He. Was. Safe. Yet his fingers still gripped the shaft of his lance by his side.
Outside, the busy sounds of Enbarr were too much like the city on fire. Through the carriages and the bustle of the distant market and city streets, did he hear screaming? His eyes and his smile did not even hint that anything was wrong, and he wanted to believe it. How could he not believe it? The others were perfectly fine. Right? But even so, while his mind was continuously tormented, Ferdinand was determined not to show any sign of it. The name Ferdinand von Aegir finally meant something apart from the family legacy, and he was determined not to lose it all to weakness.
Then it happened last week. Was it yesterday?
It was an accident. A plate shattered next to Ferdinand at a diplomatic meeting with Count Rowe. There was nothing wrong. It was a peaceful discussion of coexistence. Ferdinand could scarcely recall throwing back his chair and screaming. Yet every person, including the Black Eagles, either stared or backed away in fear of him. What had he done? The last thing he could remember was Hubert rushing towards him before Ferdinand ran.
Since then, Ferdinand locked himself in his chambers and away from the noises, anything that could remind him of striking steel and deathly screams. It was a prison, but he had no choice. He was no good to anyone as he was now.
Perhaps he was never any good to anyone at all?
Even within his blankets, his eyes continued to dart about. He could never escape the building fear of every walking feet outside in the hallway, wondering who they could be. The cold steel of the lance within his palm brought only meager comfort.
But did it matter?
He never made a difference. All of the fighting, the sacrifices, the pain, the blood, none of it mattered. Yes, the Empire had won. They would have anyway without him.
He should leave.
No one would notice.
No one would miss a murderer.
A wind passes by the window, pinging the glass a bit. Outside were the sounds of a distant building under construction. Ferdinand holds himself close. Those were hammers, not clanking steel. Not running, armored shoes that were constantly marching on. Why was he impossible to convince? His hands clenched over his ears, but it did no good. The fears never stopped. Ferdinand repeatedly pulled at his hair. He curled in on himself. Make it stop! Make it stop!
He was nothing. Always was. Always will be.
Strangely, miraculously, a soft door opening shattered the spell, pulling him away from the madness. Didn’t he lock all of his doors? He had, and there was only one person he knew that would pick the lock of each one, and yet he felt relieved that he was here. His eyes opened slowly, but he was not ready to lift his head and see.
“Ferdinand?” Ferdinand knew that hissy but now gentle, baritone voice whose single word could be either a laceration or a caress. Now, it was the latter.
Despite his lingering pain, Ferdinand peaked out from the blankets. He saw the ebony presence of his beloved friend, who was taking the wool cover down from the mirror and pinning it upon the window frame to hang it over the curtains. The cover muted the outside noise into a gentle, very distant buzz of bees in a field, which sounded far better than the clashes of wars. Then Hubert took three wood logs from the wood pile by the fireplace and began a small flame with the snap of his fingers.
“Ferdinand?” he softly called again as concerned green eyes searched for exhausted amber ones.
Feeling ashamed, Ferdinand slumped back under the blankets until another snap of fingers lit a single white candle to reveal Hubert’s concerned expression in a gentle light. Ferdinand could barely look back as Hubert sat upon the edge of the bed next to him, turning slowly to face Ferdinand, loose hands hanging between elbows on knees, his body angled. Everything about Hubert appeared as giving all of his attention while also holding himself back.
Slowly Ferdinand sat up, cringing as he did so. His muscles had been clenched for so long that they had become taut like stones, and his joints seemed to crack with every movement. Not even twenty-five yet, and he already felt ninety; at least his body could reflect his mind this time. With continuing hisses and pops of pain, he sat cross-legged next to Hubert. The covers fell away to reveal a vulnerable Ferdinand dressed in only his small clothes. They inched to look at one another, just sitting like sitting birds. Ferdinand's only movement was a lopsided head angling as he stretched his neck, and wondered why Hubert was here. However, with a single glance at his eyes, Ferdinand already knew and became confused about what to expect.
Hubert shattered the silence. “You don't have to talk if you do not want to, but likewise, you can tell me anything.”
Ferdinand wished to. How he wanted to! But even after an extended silence, he only had one word, “Hubert....” his usually bright voice now heavy with pain and sadness.
Ferdinand blankly stared as he began to turn his face towards him, but then looked away. Hubert’s green eyes ran over Ferdinand like he was scrutinizing a spy, and Ferdinand looked further away, expecting one sharp word after another. He did not need to hear how pathetic he was. How far he had fallen from a month ago. How he was a shame to his friends, that he should no longer be here. How Hubert knew all of this already.
“I have tea prepared for you.”
Ferdinand glanced up as Hubert stood. Steam wafted from the liquid poured from the teapot, and Ferdinand remembered their many days in the tea garden, passing the time together talking over coffee and tea. When was the last time he had enjoyed that peaceful escape? To meditate upon nothing but the quiet and the taste of the beverage with either Hubert’s company or himself alone? “It has been so long since we last drank together. Please, forgive me.”
“You haven't been yourself lately,” Hubert said as he handed a cup to Ferdinand, who recognized it from one of his favorite sets; white with blue cornflowers. His eyes were mesmerized by the golden glow emanating and also by the smell that he did not recognize. It conjured thoughts of soft purple.
“What is it?” Ferdinand asked.
“Saint John's wort and valerian. I’ve learned that a cup every day helps with anxiety and sleep.”
Ferdinand nodded, still staring at the tea and watching the gold liquid form circles within the water. “I… suppose I have been struggling with those. Recently.”
“Only recently?”
Ferdinand could only silently stare, for Hubert—astute as ever—was right. Ferdinand took another long sip, the teacup shaking as his hand began to tremble. Long ago, he was told that he was useless. He should have believed them. Just a soldier. A killer.
He flinched and he slumped forward, almost spilling the tea, as his stiff shoulders and back ached. With a shake of his head, Ferdinand blindly placed the teacup on the nightstand and ducked under the blankets so he could not see Hubert leave in disgust.
A hand casually rubbed Ferdinand’s back through the dense fabric—Hubert stayed—and Ferdinand melted as his gloved hands were like a relieving balm to his long-held aches. Ferdinand found the contact refreshing and turned towards his touch. Hubert scooted closer to him and started massaging his back through the blanket with both hands, fingertips, and thumbs. His strokes brought such relief that Ferdinand slowly emerged from the blankets once more, stretching out like a tired cat. Hubert continued rubbing up and down his back and then shoulders without interruption or a word, and Ferdinand sighed in relief as Hubert ran his hands down his spine, and he turned to see Hubert.
Instead, he saw his own sickening face in the exposed mirror.
Upon seeing his hair so matted that it rolled over his face in thready bundles, Ferdinand shied away. How could he see himself when he could not even recognize his own face anymore? He was a young boy with dreams the last time he looked into it. Now, only a floundering soldier.
Hubert scooted closer; this time, his gloved hands slid up his bare arms. Ferdinand exhaled at his soft touch. Feridnand leaned back and Hubert allowed him to settle against him. Meanwhile, Hubert continued to rub his arms and shoulders and did not budge him an inch.
“They’re gone now,” Hubert whispered in his ear. “They are all far away in time. It’s only you and me.”
Ferdinand turned towards his whisper. He wanted to know why Hubert was here for him, but that question proved mute.
Hubert supported all of the Black Eagles; Ferdinand was nothing special.
He never was.
Just a murderer.
A monster.
Ferdinand flinched. He tried to stop the thoughts. He needed to stop—
“They are only thoughts, Ferdinand.” he continued softly. “They are neither true nor correct.”
Ferdinand whimpered, “I don’t even know anymore. They won’t stop.” His hands fisted upon his face in a vain attempt to hide.
Hubert wrapped his arms around him to offer comfort. To Ferdinand’s surprise, instead of countering or speaking, Hubert hummed a gentle lullaby from an opera that Ferdinand once enjoyed. The notes caressed his ears and mind as Ferdinand lost himself to them, resting his head back upon Hubert’s shoulder. He whimpered as his muscle eased from as hard as rigid rocks to a loose gravel.
Ferdinand whispered, “I am sorry.”
Hubert shook his head.
“This was… none of this was ever a problem for me until now. I do not know what to do.”
“You don't have to do anything,” Hubert chuckled. “I know this has been hard for you, but you don't have to do anything. Now is not the time to distract yourself with activity or worry. Just feel and let it flow.”
Ferdinand molded himself to Hubert’s embrace, feeling his warmth around him, and eventually grinned. “Activity, I used to drive you crazy with my being so busy, but that feels like a lifetime ago.” His breath hitched faintly, grin fading. “You must prefer me this way now, so why help me?”
“I don't have a preference for seeing you suffer.”
Although Skeptical, Ferdinand nodded once. After a few moments of thought, Hubert’s fingertips ran across Ferdinand’s stomach, and his palm rested upon his shoulder. Ferdinand’s eyes fluttered closed in contentment as his head continued resting Hubert’s shoulder while his face turned towards his neck.
“Why?” Ferdinand asked, breathing upon his skin.
“You are not the only one who struggles with guilt. We all did what we had to do.”
Ferdinand stared into space, imagining what it was like for the other Black Eagles. He always felt like the only one barely holding himself together. Everyone else was fine. “With Edelgard under constant stress and confrontation, she must be heavily burdened.”
“That is true.”
Ferdinand opened his eyes, eyelashes tickling Hubert’s skin, “So are you.” Hubert turned to gently press his cheek upon his forehead. “How has it been for you?”
Hubert kept silent as he held him, their bodies still interlocked together. Eventually, Ferdinand gave up waiting for an answer and instead accepted the unspoken one. Ferdinand did not doubt that Hubert’s service to the Empire and Edelgard herself meant countless acts of secrecy and malice, but he always managed himself fine. He never struggled to cope.
After several moments of peace, Hubert softly mumbled. “Come with me. We’re going to clean you up.”
“What for?”
“Because you need to.”
“You need not waste your time, Hubert. It will not change anything.”
“No, not yet. But how is being a shut-in helping you? Some freedom is all you need right now.”
Ferdinand continued staring blankly, “I suppose…you have a point. But…” He just shook his head. “No, I can not.”
“Why not?”
“What if it happens again? What if I fail again? No, I will not leave. It is better this way.”
“Would you leave a horse trapped in the mud even if it wanted to be?”
“No!” Ferdinand snapped. “Never! It would be cruel to allow it to hurt itself and….” He gazed at Hubert in dawning realization, sighing softly, “Even if it is a crazy, useless horse?”
“It's easy to think that when stuck. We should free that horse, care for it, and find out.”
For the first time in days, Ferdinand quietly chuckled as he slid toward the edge of the bed. “You and your strange metaphors. The good news is that I do not have horseshoes.”
“Calloused feet are still awful.”
Ferdinand scoffed, “I can guarantee you that I do not have calloused feet!”
Hubert smirked. “Soft baby feet of a noble who never worked a day.”
“How dare you insinuate that— No, we are changing the subject right now. I will not waste time on the subject of feet.”
“If you say so.”
“Hands are far more interesting.” Remembering his thirst, he reached for the teacup and finished the tea quickly.
Hubert chuckled, “I expect that from a weapons expert such as yourself.”
“Not only that, but their anatomy is fascinating. There is nothing like the human hand anywhere on the planet. Especially yours. They are a hallmark of dedication that should be admired.”
Hubert eventually said, “Your words are appreciated.”
“And the precise way you hold a dagger is nothing short of art. Yet nothing compares to how you cast Hades and…” Noticing Hubert’s smirk, he also started laughing. “You were going to let me speak on and on, were you not?”
“While you were singing my praises? Yes.”
Ferdinand looked downward as his laughter soon faded, but the spark of happiness, even though small, remained. “Hubert, I miss talking with you like this.”
Hubert nodded once. “So do I.”
Ferdinand looked upward, and green and gold met, locked into a soft gaze. His happiness faded like a mist. “Hubert, am I going insane?”
“No more than the rest of us.”
Ferdinand stared blankly ahead. Was Caspar experiencing regret and fear without reason? Was Linhardt? Then the most painful realization of all, was Ferdinand too caught up in himself to notice? While Ferdinand’s mind wandered, Hubert’s fingertips brushed his back once more.
“We will start cleaning you up.” Ferdinand nodded, smiling fondly at Hubert as he tried to forget his thoughts. His eyes kept travelling downward.
Hubert was first to stand. With a tiny, metallic click of a chain, his cloak fell from his shoulders, and he scooped it up into a quick, draping fold and left it at the foot of Ferdinand’s bed. From there, Ferdinand watched in fascination as Hubert unfastened the laces of the cuff about his wrists that secured the gloves, watching the white leather fall away to reveal his hands of mottled skin of pale white and gray to black like an ink wash spilled onto paper upon long fingers that were elegant and precise.
Ferdinand sighed, painfully confident that nothing about himself warranted such fascination.
Folding his sleeves away from his wrists, Hubert watched Ferdinand’s messy hair fall about his face and then offered his open hand in invitation.
Ferdinand nodded.
Ferdinand’s arms and legs felt sore as he stood. The wood floor was cold on his feet. The blankets fell away as he stretched, revealing his pale form. His small clothes were loose on his hips. They walked to the vanity, a dresser of bright oak with three drawers to each side and a large mirror. Multiple bottles of creams and colognes, along with brushes and tablets of makeup, stood scattered upon the vanity surface.
Ferdinand looked into the mirror and saw his reflection from the corner of his eyes. With a gasp, he stopped and stared. Ferdinand had always taken pride in his appearance—, and his clear skin, shaped eyes, and ordinarily careful hair proved it—But not now. While he would admit to having been neglectful of his hair recently, he never fully realized how neglectful he was. Mats of hair hung over the back of his head and temples by clumpy handfuls, each like a nest a bird or a rat would call home. His face and skin were paler than they once were, making his charming freckles appear more like sickly pox.
He nearly sobbed when he saw himself in the mirror. “Hubert! Why are you so cruel? Cover it back up. I can not–.”
“We are going to fix this.”
“Then shave me and get it over with.”
Hubert faintly chuckled, “We won't need to be that drastic.”
With hope in his eyes, Ferdinand gazed up at him. “What are you going to do?”
Hubert guided Ferdinand towards his dresser, pulling out the cushioned seat for him. As Ferdinand continued to stare blankly at his reflection, Hubert reached for a broad brush. He gently brushed at the tips, untangling the red strands as he slowly moved upward. Ferdinand’s eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed.
“I never knew that you had experience with hair,” Ferdinand sighed.
“I have assisted Edelgard in the past.” Hubert reminisced. “She hasn’t been needing my assistance as often lately.”
Ferdinand smiled fondly. “Dorothea has been good for her.”
“They both are. They need each other.”
Ferdinand’s head hung. “No one needs me.”
A darkened fingertip caressed the line of his jaw, stopped at his chin, and then lifted his face towards the mirror. Then Hubert resumed brushing. “Some of these mats are too tangled to brush out. I may have to cut your hair.”
Ferdinand looked up at Hubert. “You can cut hair?”
“Lady Edelgard needs her hair maintained as well, and the list of people allowed to have anything sharp around the Emperor is very concise.”
“True. How much do you think is necessary?” Ferdinand was confident that he was in good hands, but the trepidation still remained. It had been a long time since he last had a hair cut.
Hubert tilted his head aside in thought. “Not much, I believe. Remember the layers you had before? How about a slight trim toward that look? So your hair is not as heavy.”
“…I suppose.”
Hubert chuckled. “Do you still want me to shave you? That can be arranged.”
“Nononono, I just do not know.”
“I’m only teasing. It would be a shame to lose your radiant hair.”
The words chimed pleasantly in his ears. Ferdinand only stared, stunned at them, as he slowly leaned back towards Hubert, who began snipping away the mats. The snipping of the scissors was mesmerizing, like the trickling of water or the chirping of birds. His eyes slowly closed as if falling asleep as he focused on the sound and the touch of Hubert’s hands in their extremely rare state of exposed skin.
“Hubert, how hard has it been for you?” The other man remained silent. “You do not have to tell me anything that you do not wish to, but it is hardly fair to you that you only listen to me.”
Hubert sighed but said, “I have wounds that will never heal, but I am too busy to worry over such small things.”
Still gazing into the mirror, Ferdinand leaned his head upon him. “Why are you here wasting your time with me? Would it not be better to care for yourself?”
“Spending time with you is never a waste. Helping those I care for is how I have learned to cope.” With a few careful snips, Hubert trimmed out a mat the size of his hand. “I am tired of being the ghoul many think I am. It has become too exhausting and counterproductive as of late.”
Ferdinand closed his eyes. “Please forgive me, Hubert. I have been so selfish. Here you are, suffering, and yet you help me.”
“This is not a trauma competition. We don’t need any of that.” He placed the scissors down upon the vanity and then reached for the hair oil, a delicate scent of roses, and began to gently massage it into Ferdinand’s scalp, “Think of it this way, by allowing me to help you recover, you allow healing as well. I am grateful to you for that.”
“Is it working?”
Hubert nodded.
Ferdinand faintly smiled as he watched his hair change. In a few minutes, his hair was layered and then feathered, much like it did when he was younger after the monastery. His sunshine smile was beginning to return. “I feel freer. Lighter.”
Hubert offered his hand to Ferdinand again, who gratefully accepted. He was surprised when Hubert guided into the bathroom.
“I will draw you a bath. You have plans tonight, and you will want to be perfect.”
“Plans?” Ferdinand’s eyes followed Hubert, tracing down his spine and hips as the other man kneeled to run the water. “What plans?”
The white tub of porcelain and wood was filling quickly. “You shall see.”
“Please tell me?”
Hubert poured a jar of green, minced leaves into the churning bathwater with a stir of his hands. The smell of mint, rosemary, and rare eucalyptus wafted gen, caressing Ferdinand’s senses soothingly. “The Opera House. Dorothea’s opening night.”
“That is true.” Ferdinand’s eyes widened as he remembered, and he smiled broadly. “Her first directed opera. This is wonderful for her. You are right, Hubert. I must not let this trap me. I want to go. I want to celebrate her success. But…”
“Yes?”
“There will be war scenes. What if I…” Ferdinand’s voice trailed off. “No, I will only embarrass her.”
With a pull of the wood handle, the water stopped.
Wisps of steam fluttered from the water's surface, which glistened in the color of the green. Ferdinand lifted one foot gingerly over the side of the tub, immersing himself slowly with a hiss that became a sigh as the heat eased him. Meanwhile, Hubert had removed his vest and rolled up his sleeves as far as possible. Once Ferdinand was fully seated, he passed him a white hand towel while keeping one for himself, and then he began stroking up Ferdinand’s legs with a bare hand and towel, sliding up one calf in a single, slow movement.
Initially, Ferdinand was surprised at the affectionate gesture that was so rare from Hubert, but he could not deny how pleasing it felt to feel both the heat, the cloth, and his bare hands on his skin as he sat naked and vulnerable. Every touch continued to melt away his feelings and tension. He sighed again as he leaned back against the tub, listening to the water lap at his body, feeling Hubert stroke the other leg, and allowing the scents to calm him. After a few movements, he began washing his own arms so Hubert wouldn't feel responsible for all of him. It did not feel nearly as pleasant as Hubert’s touch.
“You won't embarrass her,” Hubert said as he ran the towel over his side.
“Hubert, you can not guarantee that.”
“I can with Dorothea.”
“I do not wish to ruin her night.” Ferdinand shook his head and turned his face down. “She will rather I not be there.”
“That’s not true. You mean so much to her. Do you truly believe she would think that?”
Ferdinand sighed, “No.” He dropped the towel into the water with both hands on his lap. “Will this ever become easier? I am not like the others. I already feel beyond repair. Should I give up?”
Hubert dropped the washcloth upon the curved side and scooted closer to him, gently holding his forearm as he gazed back. “Ferdinand, as smart and conscientious as you are, you can be so blind to others’ weaknesses. You are not alone. We are all struggling with living. We have to support one another.”
Ferdinand shook his head. “You do not understand. This is not living. It does not stop. It goes on and on and on—”
His hands slid up to his shoulders. “I do, Ferdinand. I truly do. A day doesn’t go by when everything I have done haunts me; faces of the dead in my dreams, noises that were never there, fear and anger trying to control me.”
Ferdinand stared into his eyes, and his wet hands held Hubert’s bare forearms. “Is there any hope for us? There has to be.”
The two slowly met forehead to forehead, hands holding one another. Hubert gazed back. “You are Ferdinand von Aegir; you don't give up. You never gave up when thousands charged at you in battle. You stood up to corruption. You can stand strong now.”
“But I—”
“Every day, I see my friend in so much pain. I see him punishing himself for only upholding his duty and beliefs. The former church would call you a saint, our Empire calls you a hero, yet you treat yourself as a sinner,” He whispered, “Keep your head up, Ferdinand. The war is over. You have won. Your life has been given back to you.” Ferdinand stared back, stunned at his words. “I know it will be difficult to remember, and it has been for me as well, but you are not a weapon. You are a man whose kind heart is as beautiful as you.”
Upon his words, Ferdinand gazed back at Hubert like he was seeing his soul, and that Hubert was also seeing his. “Am I?”
“I know you don't believe me. Not any of this, but...” Hubert began to turn his face away, reining in what must be kept secret and failing miserably. “I’m sorry for being— You shouldn't— Ferdinand, if you give up, there's no hope for me.”
Rendered silent, Ferdinand stared in astonishment. Did he truly mean that much to Hubert? He felt his heart warm, and its beats thicken at the realization. With a gentle touch, Ferdinand’s hand cupped Hubert’s cheek and brought him closer. Ignoring the water, especially Hubert who was still dressed, the two men came together in a warm embrace, holding each other tightly as if protecting one another. “I do believe you, and I promise you, Hubert, I will never give up.”
Hubert hugged him tighter, his white shirt became translucent by the bathwater as their bodies met and their hearts beat harmoniously.
With another whisper, “Will you come with me? I need you there. What if— I am not certain of what might happen.”
“I intend to. All three of us will be attending together.”
“Three? Edelgard, I assume?”
Hubert nodded. “This is the best news, and it must be kept secret.” Ferdinand’s eyes widened in intrigue. “Lady Edelgard will propose to her tonight after the final applause.”
Ferdinand was stunned, while Hubert studied his expression curiously. Ferdinand practically leapt from the bath, scattering water and nearly striking Hubert in the face as he rushed towards the armoire. “We must not tarry! Let us prepare now!” Ferdinand called to Hubert, brandishing his bright smile of sunshine. He threw open the armoire door in excitement. Should he choose to wear green? Blue? Maybe even purple? “Go ahead and prepare yourself, Hubert. I promise to be ready on time for our date.”
Slowly standing and crossing his arms with a slight chuckle as he walked by, Hubert gathered his belongings to leave. “We will be having a small meal at our place in the tea gardens first.”
“I am very much looking forward to it.” For the first time in days, Ferdinand had something to be excited about. “I shall hurry.” He winked at Hubert.
Passing him a long, fluffy towel, Hubert grinned as he left for his apartment.
Within an hour, Hubert lifted his satin-gloved hand towards the door, which opened before he could knock. He genuinely smiled when he saw Ferdinand dressed in a red overcoat of satin with golden embroidery of feathers along the seams with gold and diamond buttons. His supportive black and white hose showed off carved calves. Hubert recognized Ferdinand’s leather shoes of fine engraving with a narrow design for quick steps. “You look like you are ready for dancing.”
“I am certain there will be once the world hears of the Emperor’s announcement.” He stepped closer to Hubert until they almost touched. “I hope you will join me.”
Hubert never bothered with dance shoes or such apparel, but that never stopped him before. Green eyes shifted aside with a sly grin. “I suppose Lady Edelgard will be very much preoccupied during the night. So, of course, I shall.” Once more, he raised his open palm to Ferdinand, who happily accepted it.
Then he hesitated. “Will tonight be— what if I—”
“You are with friends, Ferdinand. You are with me. We all love and value you.” His fingers interlocked with Ferdinand’s. “Whatever happens, it will be alright.”
Upon his words, Ferdinand coyly smiled at him and then nodded. “As I do for you.” With the closing of the apartment door, the pair walked hand in hand down the hall.