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“Bernadetta,” Hubert says. He resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, sure that it would only bring further anguish to his colleague and friend. “When you agreed to further work with me on this matter, surely you were aware of what this would entail?”
Bernadetta pulls at her hair, frowning up at him. “I don’t remember ever agreeing to do something like this.”
Honestly, Hubert thinks, she’s acting as though he’s asking her to torture somebody for him—although, frankly, Bernadetta may prefer that to what he’s asking of her now. “You’ve fought in battles many times more difficult than this, Bernadetta. This shouldn’t be half as frightening.”
“For you, maybe, but for me? I’m really trying, Hubert, but I don’t know if I can do this.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Unfortunately for you, Her Majesty’s orders clearly state that we are to see this project through together, for better or worse.”
Bernadetta flaps her hands in the air. “Fine. If it’s Edelgard’s orders, I’ll do it. Just don’t expect me to have a good time, alright?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Bernadetta offers him a small smile. Hubert smiles back because it feels like the right thing to do. While keeping Bernadetta calm in his presence requires considerably more work than the rest of his comrades, Hubert can’t complain. He’d have to admit that he even likes the tiny grins she gives him, the way that she’s growing to understand his jokes and even poke back. It’s almost endearing.
“Shall we, then?” Hubert continues, offering Bernadetta his arm.
“I guess.” Bernadetta accepts his invitation, sliding her arm through his.
When they exit the tent, it’s to the sounds of merriment, people immediately pushing in on every side. Hubert’s glad for his height in times like these; Bernadetta tightens her grip on his arm and he glances down at her, taking in her bewilderment at the crowds surrounding them.
“Remember,” he says, leaning in close. His lips brush against her ear as he continues, “Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. And Bernadetta?”
She looks up at him.
“Do try to relax.”
Bernadetta purses her lips, voice shaky even as her eyes steel in determination. “I can do this.”
“You can,” agrees Hubert. “I’ve seen you excel at far more difficult tasks. Shall we walk?”
Bernadetta nods. “I think I’ll feel better once we’re moving.”
“We could purchase a snack as well,” Hubert suggests, eyes roaming the crowd as he guides Bernadetta through the busy square. “It could help solidify our cover as innocent fairgoers.”
“It could?” Bernadetta blinks, thinking about it for a moment. “I g-guess so, huh?” She moves closer, tucking herself into Hubert’s side for a moment as a stranger bumps into her on their way through the crowd. “What kind of fair food do you like?”
It’s so very like Bernadetta to be concerned for his tastes, Hubert thinks. Something small blooms in his chest at the thought, even though, in truth, he doesn’t much care for anything you can get from a festival food stand— it’s all too sticky, too messy, too sweet. Perhaps, though, it can distract Bernadetta’s anxieties enough that they may actually get some work done.
“What would you like?” he asks instead of answering.
Bernadetta perks up. “Could we, um, get some of those candied nuts? The sweet ones? But I don’t know what kind of food you like, so if you hate those, then we can get something else, or—”
“The candied nuts are fine,” Hubert says. Too sticky, too sweet. “Is there a kind of nut that you prefer? Walnuts? Cashews? Peanuts?”
Bernadetta’s cheeks color. “The mixed bag is fine.”
Hubert leads her toward one of the many food stands. Bernadetta scans the crowd behind them, and Hubert’s rather proud of the trust he holds in her; he knows that Bernadetta will warn him should she sense any danger or nefarious persons.
The shopkeeper hands Hubert the twisted-off bag, accepting Hubert’s payment with a smile. Any thief worth their coin would target them now. Hubert’s shown that he has money, and now his and Bernadetta’s attentions will be turned towards their treat, or so one would think.
Bernadetta lets out a small noise when Hubert presses the bag into her hands, their fingers brushing together. “Thanks!” She smiles up at him, and Hubert smiles back. He tucks his hands behind his back, pretending to gaze down at Bernadetta. His true attentions are elsewhere: he observes the crowd with a shrewd eye.
“Do try a few.”
Bernadetta nods, opening the bag and dipping her hand in. The glaze shines on her fingers as she tosses a small handful of nuts into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Her eyes light up. “They’re really good! Do you—Do you want to try some?”
Not particularly, Hubert thinks, but Bernadetta looks so hopeful, so at ease in his presence that he doesn’t want to say anything that may turn her away again. “Fine,” he says. He flexes his hands behind his back, removing a glove where Bernadetta cannot see. “Thank you, Bernadetta.”
As nonchalantly as he can muster, Hubert picks a nut from the bag, cheeks heating at the way Bernadetta peers at his naked hand. Her gaze isn’t judgemental, merely curious, and Hubert feels laid bare by her observations. The food feels sticky and foreign against his fingers, the cool air stinging as he pops it into his mouth. The sweetness folds over his tongue immediately, leaving him grimacing.
To his surprise, Bernadetta laughs. It’s a soft, ringing sort of giggle that makes Hubert want to laugh too. Hubert finds himself blushing when he looks at her, swallowing the sticky nuts. “What?” he asks.
Bernadetta shakes her head, cheeks coloring. She eats another handful of nuts, then says, “Nothing, it’s just—I’m sorry. I don’t think you like candy very much, do you? I should have ordered something else.”
Hubert shakes his head. “It’s quite alright, Bernadetta. I wanted to purchase something you would enjoy.”
“Oh,” Bernadetta says, mouth twitching. “That’s, um.” She pauses. “Okay.”
“Besides,” Hubert says, stretching his hand forward for a second nut, just to prove his point. “They’re not so terrible.”
Bernadetta reaches out for another handful, smiling. Hubert pulls back, but not in time, and his fingers tangle with Bernadetta’s as they both reach for the food. Bernadetta’s skin is warm, her fingertips rough from years of pulling back bowstrings. Hubert’s chest swells at the feeling of her fingers against his, and he shivers as Bernadetta pulls away.
“I apologize—”
“Sorry—” Bernadetta says, sending a few nuts falling to the ground. “Sorry.”
“It’s quite alright,” Hubert says, blood pounding through his ears. His hand clenches, and he looks away, slipping his glove back on before Bernadetta can say anything else. “You may eat the rest of them. Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you,” Bernadetta protests. “You, um— You bought these for me, and you didn’t have to, and—”
“And as I said, it’s quite alright.” Hubert shifts, rolling his shoulders back and jutting his chin up in the air. “Please enjoy them for me.”
“If you’re sure,” Bernadetta says, sucking the glaze off the pad of her thumb. “Thanks, Hubert.”
“You’re quite welcome.” Hubert fluffs his shoulders, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I will keep an eye on the crowd while you eat.”
“I can eat and watch at the same time, you know,” Bernadetta says. She does quite an exemplary job at it, too. He can tell her focus is elsewhere, surely keeping an ear out for anything going on behind them.
“Yes, you can,” Hubert agrees. He offers his arm again, and Bernadetta tucks her arm into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re a rather fine partner for this task, I must admit.”
“Really? Thanks!” Bernadetta seems almost at ease in the crowd now, eating her candied nuts with a small smile on her face.
They wander the crowd, Hubert growing increasingly frustrated by the apparent lack of thievery. All around him are simply the sounds of merriment; welcome, but unhelpful. He meant it when he said he’d be glad if the festival did nothing else but lift their comrades' spirits, but it would be nice to pin down the bandit ring while they’re at it.
“Oh, look!” Bernadetta says. “People are dancing.”
She’s right; a circle of festivalgoers is forming in the center of the square, clapping along to an energizing melody put on by a young fellow with a fiddle. A man drags his partner into the circle, and they take up a quick-footed dance in each other’s arms. Soon, more couples follow suit, the circle growing in size.
“That looks fun,” Bernadetta says wistfully, finishing off her candied nuts. Hubert watches as she smooths out the bag they came in, folding it neatly and tucking it into an inner pocket. She looks up, noticing him watching. “What?” she says, shifting and glancing away. “I, um. I like the pattern.”
“It’s nothing,” Hubert says. “I was merely curious, that’s all.”
“Oh. Okay.” Bernadetta turns back to the crowd, a blush sitting high on her cheeks. “That’s fine, then.”
Hubert watches her watch the crowd, a curious tendril snaking its way around his heart at the sight. “Dear Bernadetta,” he says, an invitation on the tip of his tongue. “Would you—”
Bernadetta perks up, and at first, Hubert thinks she’s ready to accept his invitation before he’s even said it. Then, she seizes his arm, nodding across the crowd with an ice-cold stare.
“There,” she says. “I might be wrong, but, um, I think I just saw someone steal a coin purse off of that woman over there.”
Hubert looks where Bernadetta’s gesturing just in time to see a lean man cut through the crowd, pocketing a bag as he goes. “I believe you are correct.”
“Should we give chase?”
“We’ll go around, cut him off. No need to alarm the dancers.” Hubert lays a hand on Bernadetta’s elbow. “Come.”
He turns, and Bernadetta follows. He cuts a path through the crowd, trading speed for covertness, and Bernadetta keeps one hand between his shoulder blades, her touch ever-present and reminding him that she’s there, too.
Hubert crosses away from the crowd, darting down an alley. Bernadetta’s footsteps echo behind him, and by the time he exits the alley, she’s at his side. The thief is there, too, and Hubert steps in front of him, arms crossed. He flips around, but there’s Bernadetta, cutting off his escape.
“Save it,” Hubert barks. He seizes the man by the collar, turning to Bernadetta. “Fetch the guards. There may be more.”
Bernadetta nods, darting off in search of Imperial guards.
“Who are you? Who do you work for?” Hubert asks the thief, jostling him by his collar.
“I’m— I’m not—” the thief stutters.
Hubert eyes him up and down. No shoes, torn pants. A worn-down shirt that seems more hole than fabric at this point.
“You’re no bandit,” Hubert realizes. “A runner would have shoes. A marksman would blend in better. You’re just a common thief.”
And here Hubert thought they’d take down the ring of bandits today. He has half a mind to take the victim’s money back and just let the thief go, but then Bernadetta returns with two guards flanking her, an expression of pride written across her face.
“So?” Bernadetta says. “Did we catch one of the bandits?”
Hubert wants to say yes. He wants Bernadetta to have this win, to allow her the accomplishment of capturing a professional bandit after showing such bravery in the face of something she finds so terrifying.
“We did not,” he says. “He’s just a petty thief.”
Bernadetta frowns. “Oh.”
Hubert turns to the guards, giving the thief a small push in their direction. “Hold him for the rest of the day, but let him go before curfew. I’ll see to it that the stolen money is returned.” He pockets the stolen coin purse.
Bernadetta stays as the guards arrest the thief, leading him away. She studies Hubert, hands clasped in front of her. “You’re— Um. You seem disappointed.”
Hubert blinks, looking down at her. “Disappointed.”
“I know it’s probably my fault,” Bernadetta says. “I’m sorry, Hubert. I really thought we’d caught one of the bandits— it was stupid of me.”
“Bernadetta,” Hubert says. “That is wholly incorrect. I am not disappointed in you in the least.”
“Are you sure?” Bernadetta tugs at the ends of her hair, biting her lip. “Because if you were, it would be fine. I’d understand.”
“If I were truly disappointed in you, Bernadetta, I would not be here right now. I would already be on my way to return this purse, leaving you here to wonder what went wrong. I’m not disappointed in you, and you would do well to remember that.”
Bernadetta looks up at him, eyes wide. After a long moment of silence, she says, “Hubert … that’s really nice of you, you know that?”
Hubert’s face heats, and when Bernadetta stands on her tiptoes, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, he blushes even deeper.
Bernadetta smiles up at him, then laughs. “You’re kind of cute when you’re all flustered.”
“I am not cute,” Hubert says. He runs a hand through his hair, turning away. “Let us be off. We must return this purse and continue having a watchful eye over the crowd.”
“Alright, Hubert.” Bernadetta links their arms together again, resting her hand in the crease of Hubert’s elbow.
Hubert’s face burns where Bernadetta kissed it, but he wouldn’t trade the sensation for the world.