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Pouring the dregs of the third, or perhaps the fourth pot of coffee into the porcelain cup that was caked in the remnants of brews that stuck around a little too long, he sighed at the letter in front of him. Rubbing his eyes did not help, nor did lighting another candle enlighten him to the solution to his significant blunder. The calligraphy belittled him as he scanned the pages in the hopes that the words would change before his eyes, but as it stood, it still read:
To the Imperial Minister of the Household of Adrestia, one Hubert von Vestra.
We thank you for your most kind invitation to the banquet to commemorate the end of the war on the first of the Harpstring Moon. We gladly accept your invitation and we will most certainly be there in attendance.
But, I cannot help but worry for our ally nation. I heard tales of the grain shortage in Enbarr, but I had hoped them to be exaggerations of your financial state but the state of this letter all but confirms it. To employ the Hresvelg symbol, when the line was all but renounced, it could only serve as a confession. A more cynical leader would read it as intent for continuation of the old age, for tradition to triumph over all. But that would go against the ideal set forth by the Adrestian Empire, which cannot be the case.
Then, I offer once more to supply the empire with the surplus grain and even the spices that Almyra produces. If accepted, it will be sent forth within the day of receiving the response.
I await the answer you shall provide.
From the desk of Claude von Riegan,
Grimacing, Hubert resisted the urge to crumple the letter up and toss it in the paper basket. It would not do for the empire to seem cowed or submissive all because Hubert refused to acknowledge his blunder. Producing new stationary for the Imperial Palace was a frivolous expenditure, while Hubert appreciated the symbolism afforded by replacing the ‘H’ for Hresvelg that was embossed on each page with an ‘E’ for his lady, he considered it to be of low priority. Thus, as Hubert assisted in the preparations for the annual commemoration of the war's end, he sent out the invites on the old stationary. Like an utter fool.
Tossing the drafted response into the paper waste basket, Hubert pulled out a scrap piece of parchment on which to catalogue his thoughts on the matter. Though with each thought, each stroke of the quill, his head throbbed like a bitter army marching across the field of his mind.
All that mattered was crafting a reasonable excuse to dismiss Almyra's unnecessary assistance. His drooping eyelids could wait, as could the crow peering at him from the tree outside his window, and the footsteps that drew near hardly constituted-
Footsteps?
His ears pricked up at the sound.
They were light, yet with a weight to them that suggested the owner of said footsteps had considerable muscle. Too familiar to be an intruder, yet too loud for an assassin. If Hubert allowed himself to sink into a fantasy for a brief moment, he would say it was Ferdinand, coming to sweep Hubert off his feet and present a solution to his problem as he often did when they worked together.
The door to his office opened with a slight creak and Hubert was convinced he suffered from hallucinations. For softly illuminated by the candle glow was Ferdinand, his trailing dotted robe drifted behind him like floating stardust against the night sky.
“Darling,” Ferdinand's voice rang out with an endearing lilted intonation.
“I cannot join you in bed yet if that is what you are to ask,” said Hubert to an apparition conjured by his tired mind. “Go back to bed.”
“But how can I when I have been deprived of my love for the past two nights!”
Hubert had returned his focus to the letter but he was certain Ferdinand was pouting.
“What is it that troubles you so? I would be delighted to offer my assistance in any way I can.” Ferdinand offered as he stepped towards the desk, too enthusiastic to be mere fiction alone.
“There is little need for that, I am working fine here by myself.”
Though it would pain him to see Ferdinand leave, if he stayed a moment longer, Hubert feared he would sink into strong arms and stay there for time immemorial.
But, of course, Ferdinand drew closer to Hubert rather than leaving, and, sluggish as his muscles were, Hubert still managed to hide the incriminating letter from him.
“Then what is it you are hiding from me?”
Or so he thought.
“It is a trifling matter, one of ill import.”
Ferdinand hummed as he slung an arm across the back of Hubert's chair.
“Will you not then do me the honour of joining me tonight?”
He wanted to say yes. Oh, how he wanted to say yes. But a belated response left the empire open to attack, if they could not respond to such a crucial figure as the king of Almyra in a timely fashion, then they must be stumbling through a disorganised and mismanaged empire. Edelgard’s reputation would crumble, her leadership would come into question and the only fault of hers, if it could even be called that, was accepting Hubert as her minister.
“Darling,” Ferdinand purred, effectively breaking Hubert out of his thoughts. “I can see the cogs working in your head. Please, whatever it may be, I can be of service to you."
Hubert scoffed. “I do not need services I-”
“You provide them, yes, I know.” Ferdinand cut in with a glare Hubert could feel against his neck. “But you must know, one of the best services you can provide, is allowing me the privilege to take care of you.”
Scoffing once more, Hubert readied a rebuttal when he noticed the letter slipping from his hands. He stared at the desk as he registered the concept of snatching it away, but by then it was already too late. He must be going soft if his reflexes were this slow.
“I assure you there is nothing in here that will harm my opinion of you, nor cause harm to myself.” A pause, then. “How do you read in this light?”
Hubert shrugged, a motion that caused his stomach to lurch. He did make one or two more attempts for the letter but it was swiftly twirled out of his grasp. Resigned to his fate, Hubert tilted back his head and savoured the incoherent mumblings that often arose while Ferdinand read. The moment's rest sank into his skin, sweeping through his body like the bitter nightshade he once experimented with in too large a quantity.
“When did you send this letter he speaks of?” asked Ferdinand.
Hubert's eyes snapped open,
“At the beginning of the week,”
“Working off of an hour of sleep if I remember correctly,”
Rolling his eyes, Hubert took the offered letter and laid it out on the table again. “I will repeat myself again, I can function optimally on less sleep than the average person.”
“Can you now?” Ferdinand hummed. “If that is so, then I accept your challenge!”
“Ferdinand?” Hubert looked on, taken aback as Ferdinand pulled a chair towards the mahogany desk. “Ferdinand you cannot be serious, you will have no energy for your morning ride, and, you certainly could not tolerate Minister Gillingr while discussing the primary education bill at noon.”
“I do concede to the possibility, but if you can function in such a way, then so can I!”
Ferdinand rolled the sleeves of his robe up before grabbing a quill and ink pot. Silk nightclothes might be suitable attire for the bedroom, but he was fated to shiver in the frigid office Hubert resided in.
“Ferdie, I cannot bear to see you taken ill again, go back to bed, please.” The well-loved endearment slipped easily from his lips as it always did; it brought a light dusting of pink to Ferdinand's tanned skin.
“Says the man who has not slept in days.” Ferdinand turned to Hubert and strangely, a gentle smile graced his lips. “Even if I wanted to sleep, how could I leave you with your hair sticking up at all angles?”
Ferdinand began to run his bare hand through the short hair at the back of Hubert's head, the warmth from his fingertips seeping through to the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck. Hubert had to repress a shameful shiver at the touch.
"I know what you are doing," Hubert tried to inject venom into his voice, but it was rather difficult to do so when his body leaned into Ferdinand's touch.
"Oh? What is it you think I am doing?" Ferdinand asked with faux innocence dripping from his tone as he dragged his nails along Hubert's scalp.
Hubert bit his lip to silence any sigh that might escape so he may maintain his composure. "You want me to sleep when there is so much left to do,"
"Darling, could you read me the last sentence you wrote?"
Hubert could feel his ears burn at the endearment, no doubt his face was equally as flushed. But if reading a sentence was all Ferdinand required to admit Hubert was correct in continuing to work, then he would read. Squinting at the words on the parchment, Hubert tilted his head to decipher them, but how was he to be expected to decipher such nonsense when the words were dancing across the page? Bringing it to his eyes did not prove fruitful nor did blinking or rubbing his eyes. Hubert had noted the considerable increase in his hand tremors throughout the past week, he realised belatedly that despite laying on the table his hands were shaking.
"Would you allow me to care for you, dearest?" Ferdinand asked with a kiss pressed to Hubert’s temple
It was a common question between them, especially during the war when the other would unclasp their armour piece by piece and wipe down the sweat when one was too exhausted to do so. Hubert was not surprised when he said yes, nor when he stood and all but fell into Ferdinand's open arms, nor when his eyelids shut as he inhaled the scent of apple and vanilla. There had been many nights where a stolen hour of sleep was all he could abide by and many more sleepless nights to follow. By his calculations it was approximately two and a half days since he had closed his eyes, the symptoms included impaired judgment as if one had imbibed a large dose of alcohol, but Hubert had failed to attribute the symptoms to himself until Ferdinand whispered into his ear.
"May I carry you?"
Perhaps Hubert should have taken it as a sign to step away, to insist he did not need to be coddled like some child and walk ahead of Ferdinand in a display that he was attuned to the needs of his body more so than Ferdinand could ever be.
But when had Ferdinand von Aegir not surprised him?
In a move Hubert failed to predict, Ferdinand vowed to assist Edelgard along the correct path at the beginning of the war. He had chosen to stand beside Hubert at Edelgard’s back and most astounding of all, he professed his unconditional love when Hubert had thought it impossible for anyone, especially one that shone so brightly to love one as dark as him.
Ferdinand had heard the assent Hubert gave, little more than a gasp than words. But as his legs gave out, Ferdinand gently placed his hand under Hubert's thigh and the other on his back as he lifted him up and cradled him in his arms. Hubert felt his flush deepen, searing his cheeks as his arms hooked around Ferdinand's neck and his head dropped to a broad shoulder. If any palace staff or one of Hubert's spies that were skulking around late at night saw them, it would tarnish their reputations and the reputation of the emperor. But the hall was silent, dimly lit by the occasional oil lamp lining the walls. The Prime Minister carrying the Minister of the Imperial Household to bed was a ridiculous notion, an action that could not be allowed to continue or to ever happen again.
Hubert began to formulate a reason for Ferdinand to let him go, he did not wish for Ferdinand to feel rejected nor did he wish to lie. But it was rather hard to concentrate when Ferdinand was rubbing circles into Hubert's back, or when Hubert realised his face fit into the crook of Ferdinand's neck like a puzzle piece. Ideas floated in and out of his head, coming to a pause when Ferdinand shifted and ceased rubbing his back with a click. Hubert barely registered that Ferdinand had locked the door to his quarters, or that his hands were carefully pried from Ferdinand's neck as he was placed upon silk bedsheets.
Hubert assisted in his undressing by slipping out of the unbuttoned shirt and pulling a nightshirt over his head as Ferdinand folded the layers of clothing and put them on a chair to the side before sliding into bed himself.
Hubert tucked himself back into the crook of Ferdinand's neck, his hands grabbing onto a thick waist as their legs tangled together. Unbidden, a contented sigh escaped his lips as Ferdinand pressed a kiss to his forehead.
As a blanket of heavy sleep draped over him, Hubert realised he wished to remain awake. The present was where Ferdinand was, he could kiss and soak up the presence of his beloved, it did not have to come to an end. But when morning arrived, they would go their separate ways and Hubert would be drowning in paperwork rather than amber waves. But try as he might to remain awake, Ferdinand's fingers were in his hair again, gently scratching a soft spot behind Hubert's ear, and Hubert could not and would not stop his machinations and thus drowsiness wrapped him up in a more peaceful sleep than he rightly deserved.
As sunlight filtered by velvet curtains streamed across the room, Hubert was certain he was dreaming. Ferdinand regularly rose early for his morning ride and often returned as Hubert was clambering out of bed, yet now Hubert found his head not on a silk pillow but upon a firm chest
Nuzzling deeper into Ferdinand's hair, he inhaled the scent of apples deeply and felt his shoulders relax at the familiar smell, it really did suit him.
"Oh, why thank you dearest,"
So he said it aloud then. Just another item to add to the seemingly ever increasing list of ways Hubert could embarrass himself in recent times.
"Allow me to express my sincere apologies in regards to my conduct last night, my judgment was impaired and I have embarrassed both myself and you, it will not happen again."
Hubert began to extricate himself from Ferdinand when a hand brushed against his neck and came to rest on the small of his back, gently bidding him to stay.
"You do so much for us, for me, it is always a pleasure to make clear my affection for you, in any shape you will allow it." Ferdinand brought his free hand to Hubert’s cheek and with rhythmic strokes of his thumb he soothed the anxiety bubbling in Hubert's chest. "Would you like for me to carry you more?"
Hubert scoffed. "There will be no need for that,"
"But would you like me to?"
Hubert averted his eyes from Ferdinand's soft, too fond gaze that should be upon anyone but Hubert.
"It is a foolish suggestion that bears no resemblance to reality,"
"This is not a question of what you think you should or should not have. I will ask you again, do you want it?"
He should say no. It was a ridiculous flight of fancy that should not be entertained. But whether it be through word, touch, or even smell, Ferdinand had the strangest way of pulling desires out of Hubert. Desires that he had not realised he had and ones he had long since harboured in his heart. He was built to serve rather than to receive, but Ferdinand had expressed a desire for more affection. So, perhaps, just this once, Hubert could let the words slip from his lips.
“If you are willing to offer it, that is,”
“I am. There is little that can compare to the feeling of carrying your beloved, if I had it my way, you would never have to walk again!”
Hubert chuckled, laughter always came easier, more freely when with Ferdinand. “I fear my legs would atrophy beyond all use,”
“Then I would have to attentively tend to your every need as best I could!” Ferdinand enthused as passionately as if it was a topic that actually mattered rather than an absurd hypothetical scenario.
“No, that would not do at all. The empire could not bear to lose such an accomplished minister from her ranks because he chose a life of debasement.”
“It would only serve as an honour to me,” Ferdinand, it seemed, was compassionate enough to relieve Hubert of the dizzying sensation of upturning his sense of self by pressing a kiss to Hubert’s lips. “But I will concede that I do prefer working together hand in hand on an equal level. How else could I debate your questionable stance on the arts proposal from the comfort of my own bed?”
Rolling his eyes, Hubert said. “There are many questionable aspects of that proposal but my refusal to encourage it along is not one of them. There is simply no need to finance official Imperial poets or buildings for them when the current infrastructure available is awaiting repairs.”
“But think of the morale boost it would serve as to the public! The arts are always so sorely overlooked, we could establish a new basis, one where all artists are appreciated and they do not have to struggle to survive off their craft.” Ferdinand twirled a strand of hair around his finger as he spoke, the hypnotising movement served as a momentary distraction.
“How do you propose the audience for these artists would travel to us while we await the repairs for the dire straits the less frequented roads are in?” Ferdinand began to speak, but his speech was shortly interrupted by a yawn from Hubert.
“My deepest apologies,” Hubert muttered. “You could never in any sense of the word be described as-”
“Hubert, there is no need to fret, I understand. You have gone days without sleep and here I am keeping you from it with a riveting debate, well no longer!”
“What of the work that must be seen to, the letters to be drafted and your meeting at noon?” Hubert asked as Ferdinand pulled him in closer and securely fastened his hands around Hubert's waist.
“You have no need of worry, I will wake you when it is the appropriate time. You will have a long day ahead of you before we can see one another again tonight.”
“Tonight? But I will have already slept today, surely that is enough for one day.”
“That is not as compelling an argument as you might think it is, but yes, you will sleep tonight. Whether or not I have to whisk you away in public though, is up to you.” Ferdinand had a smirk on his lips as he spoke his threat into the air.
As Hubert fell swiftly back to sleep pressed up against Ferdinand's chest with their legs tangled together, he thought it did not sound too poor of an idea, to be swept off his feet in public by Ferdinand every once in a while.