Chapter Text
Part II: Crimson Flower—Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1185
“It’s been three days and he still won’t come out of his room.” Edelgard huffed as she sat down next to Dorothea in the mostly-empty dining hall. “I’m beginning to worry…”
“You checked on him again today?” Dorothea asked.
“He just brushed me off again.”
“You’re sure he’s not just working on some top-secret project?”
“I don’t know! He won’t talk to me!” Edelgard’s calm and collected demeanor was giving way to frustration—It was a side of her that even Dorothea saw very rarely.
“Y’know, sometimes, people feel more comfortable opening up to strangers than to people they’re close to—when they’re struggling with something, I mean. Maybe we can find someone else to talk to Hubie…” Dorothea mused.
Edelgard considered. “ You may be right…Who did you have in mind?”
“Oh, I don’t know…that new girl? Von Edmund, right?”
“Marianne, yes. She is kind, and she would be good for Hubert to talk to, considering…no. Nevermind.”
“Considering Hubie’s little ‘pegasus problem?” Dorothea smirked.
“If you must phrase it like that, then yes. Though we must remember that it isn’t our place to be discussing Hubert’s gender, whatever it may be.”
“Oh, come on, Edie—Hubie’s practically an open book! I’m willing to bet he’ll come out before the end of the war, at least!”
“Hmm…Is that a statement on Hubert’s personal affairs, or my leadership skills?”
“Both.”
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Marianne took a deep breath and gently knocked on the door of the dormitory. She couldn’t tell if she was more or less nervous now than when she was approached by the emperor herself earlier that afternoon. Edelgard had an air of all-around intensity that could be intimidating, but she was friendly, in a way. And the vague instruction of “Just talk to him!” was offering little comfort. As for Hubert himself…Oddly, Marianne found herself less nervous about meeting the emperor’s retainer. Marianne had seen him around the monastery, often bearing a cup of coffee and hiding behind a veil of dark, disheveled hair. When they would pass, he would offer a curt “Good evening” and be off in a hurry. Not unlike herself just a few years ago, Marianne supposed.
A sharp “Who is it?” pulled Marianne out of her thoughts.
“M-Marianne von Edmund. May I come in?” Marianne began to recite her practiced greeting.
“You may.” The door slowly opened, bringing Marianne face-to-face with the emperor’s retainer. He was as imposing as the door he was standing in the frame of. He was draped in a dark, hooded cloak, his two calculating eyes swollen and red…
His two eyes.
Gone was the veil that obscured the left side of Hubert’s face, Marianne realized as she studied the figure standing over her.
“What, pray tell, is your business here, Lady Edmund?”
Marianne tried to move past the euphoria that came with the title of “Lady.” “O-oh…Just ‘Marianne’ is fine. Your friends are worried about you…they wanted me to come check on you.”
Hubert considered for a moment, before beckoning Marianne inside. “Are you comfortable if I close the door?”
“Yes, please do.” Hubert closed the door and took a seat, motioning for Marianne to do the same.
The two sat in silence for a moment. The room was dark, illuminated by neither candle nor sunlight, and smelled pleasantly of coffee. It was neat, too—neater than when Marianne used to spend similar amounts of time in her own room, at least. The only things out of place were a couple of thick tomes and an unburied candle lying open on the desk, and various scraps of ripped and crumpled paper in the wastebasket. Fruitless research or failed attempts at poems, Marianne wasn’t sure.
Finally, Hubert retrieved a match from the desk drawer and struck it, holding the flicker of light between himself and Marianne.
“I…” Hubert croaked.
“Yes?”
“I am simply…dissatisfied with my new haircut. That is all.”
Marianne decided not to press further, thinking it better for Hubert to lead the discussion. Instead she opted for a half-joke. “I can relate to that. I swear, some barbers are just evil.”
“In the interest of protecting my barber’s reputation, I must admit that I…inflicted this upon myself.” Hubert grimaced.
Marianne wasn’t quite sure how to respond, settling on a quiet “Oh.” before the two fell into another silence.
The match that Hubert was holding had finally burned down to his fingertips, causing him to let out an indignant “Tch.” He quickly waved out the match and gently placed the stub in his pocket. He struck another match and studied its flame for a short moment before turning to Marianne. “Is that all you came for?”
“I suppose…although I’m still concerned. I understand getting a bad haircut, I’ve had my fair share of those, too…but it’s been three whole days, Hubert. This goes beyond your hair, right?”
Hubert simply stared back at her.
Marianne went over what she had just said and cringed. “I’m sorry, I…I shouldn’t make assumptions.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Umm…may I at least ask why you decided to cut your hair?”
“It was getting in my eyes. Clouding my vision. Clouding my judgement.”
“How so?”
“It was an indulgence. A distraction from my sworn purpose. I must be singularly focused on Lady Edelgard’s goal, even at my own expense. This is the life I chose.”
“You chose? Or was chosen for you?”
Hubert glared at her. “I find myself offended that you would think I would not eagerly give my body and soul to Lady Edelgard and her cause.”
“Oh, of course! I didn’t mean to…I just think that sometimes people make us feel like we have to hide ourselves. Be what they want us to be. But I know E—Her Majesty wants you to be happy. That’s what she’s fighting for.”
Hubert rubbed his eye, then turned back to his match while Marianne silently hoped she wasn’t being too pushy. Finally, Hubert spoke, eyes fixed on Marianne’s. “May I speak to you in confidence?” He said.
“Of course.” Marianne’s voice was gentle as ever, but with a decisive firmness.
Hubert took a moment to choose his words, and spoke. “As you may know, I am a very rational person. But for the past three days I have been overwhelmed with an…unusual paranoia. As if every eye in the world was fixed upon my person. Or rather, on my hair.”
Marianne nodded, encouraging him further. “And why did you decide to shut yourself in?”
“It would not do for someone in my…line of work to be so constantly and heavily scrutinized.” Hubert explained hastily. “It’s all in service of Her Majesty.”
He stopped, suddenly struck by Marianne’s understanding focus on his mental and physical state. “Not to mention…the all-consuming sickness the stares afflicted me with. And so, in a futile attempt to alleviate my pain, I hid myself. My hair under a blanket, my face behind these very four walls. And I wept. I spare tears for no one, no one but Lady Edelgard, of course, and yet…” He cleared his throat. “Apologies. I forget myself.”
“Please don’t apologize. What you’re going through is…What I mean to say is, I understand. I know it’s hard. And…I’m here for you. Please continue, if you’re comfortable sharing.”
“I…” Hubert's voice broke. Covering his mouth with his hand, a solitary tear ran down his cheek. “I have engaged in some…reflection over the past three days.” Hubert said through his hand. And I have come to find that I envy you, Marianne. You and Lady Edelgard and the Professor and…all of you. And how you take reality into your own hands, make your life your own. It is…quite admirable. Inspiring, even.”
“That’s beautiful. I never thought of it that way.” Marianne encouraged Hubert.
“But beyond that, how you…Augh!” The flame Hubert held had once again reached his fingers.
Marianne couldn’t help but chuckle at the anticlimax. “Sorry. Macbeth effect.”
Hubert chuckled too. “No worries.” He dropped the smoldering stub into the candle on his desk, lighting it. It smelled like roses and bergamot, its aroma mingling with that of Hubert’s coffee and creating a strong, bittersweet scent in the air. “I love Macbeth.”
“Me too.” Marianne smiled. “Um, anyway…”
“Yes, of course.” Hubert looked cautiously at Marianne. “This may sound…weird, for lack of a better term but…” He took a subtle, but noticeable, breath. “I envy that you can simply be you. Be a woman, that is. How I wish I could paint my face in deep purple, wrap myself in waves of black fabric that cascade past my ankles, billowing in the wind as I soar on my pegasus steed—“ He caught a glimpse of Marianne’s awed gaze, snapping him back to his perceived reality. “And yet I cannot.”
“Why not? That sounds…well, wonderful!”
“Because I am not. It would not be wonderful, it would be a perversion of all that is beautiful in this world.” Hubert was sobbing now.
“NO! Um, sorry, but that’s just not true.”
“I appreciate your optimism, but I am no woman. I am a monster. You are pure, I am not.” His voice was low, but intense.
“Hubert, no man has ever talked about the idea of being a woman like that.” Marianne nearly laughed.
“What?! Impossible.”
“It’s true!” Marianne almost couldn’t contain her excitement. “You know, you don’t need permission from anyone to be a woman. But if you’re looking for it…you have my full support. And Edelgard’s. In fact, you literally have a whole army of people who want to see you be your truest, happiest self. Ok?”
“O-ok.” Hubert sniffled. “I think I need to be alone for while. Don’t worry, a few hours at most. Um, thank you, Marianne.”
“I’m so glad I could help. Um, before I go, could I help you do your hair? And maybe some makeup, too? I have a lot of experience with styling short hair to be more femme…”
“If you wouldn’t mind, that sounds…lovely. Oh, and, let’s keep this confidential, for now.”
“I completely understand. Take it at your own pace. And whenever you’re ready to talk to someone else about it, I’ll be here for you.”
Hubert was left alone as Marianne rushed to retrieve her makeup bag. A wave of calm started to wash over him. It felt good to cry. He hadn’t done it in years, and yet…he felt alive. Awake. And with a new friend, on top of it all. These feelings Hubert had kept locked away all these years…and he was suddenly so eager to let them out? Quite curious indeed. Yes, this was going to be an…interesting experience. Hubert knew that for certain