Chapter Text
The journey to the dukedom of Aegir was unavoidably tedious. Hubert rattled along in his carriage with not even a bandit attack or five to vent his spleen on. He tried to busy himself with paperwork but Lady Edelgard - that is, Her Majesty - was as ever correct.
“You’re not going to be able to keep all of that organized,” she said, as they stood by and watched the contents of his filing cabinets being loaded into his carriage.
“Yes, I am.”
“On a two week journey on bumpy roads?” Lady Edelgard - Her Majesty - kept her voice low so only Hubert could hear her, in deference to their constant need to provide a united front. “You’ll have your maps of the Airmid mixed up with reformations of Rusalka’s tax regime in two hours.”
“No, I won’t.”
Lady Edelgard - argh, Her Majesty, the Emperor of Adres - oh whatever. Hubert permitted himself this small liberty in the safety of his own head. Lady Edelgard crossed her arms and said, “Hmph. Do not say I didn’t warn you, Hubert.”
Hubert merely bowed. Lady Edelgard’s mouth tightened imperceptibly. This is how they fought. Hubert could not bring himself to argue with her. Sometimes they resolved it by Lady Edelgard pretending she did not notice when he went behind her back or ignored her orders. When she refused to pretend, Hubert begrudgingly complied in monosyllables.
It was all very healthy and mature behaviour.
Hubert took up another page from the pile of papers he had just organized and as he did so, the carriage went over a stone. The pile slid onto the carriage floor, as it had the first ten times that day alone. Hubert kicked it, then leaned back and closed his eyes. He could organize it again; it at least made the time pass.
Instead, his mind went back to the reason for his travel, as relentless as a child tonguing a bad tooth.
The requisition of Duke Aegir’s wealth was a long, drawn out process. Only House Bergliez had more land and Aegir territory benefited from its closeness to the breadbasket of Fodlan and its control of the coastline, with several notable and heavily taxed ports facilitating its easy trading with the counties of Rusalka, Boramas and Hresvelg. With Duke Aegir gone, someone had to administer the Aegir estate and oversee its transition to Crown property. Who better to do so than Ferdinand, his firstborn, his heir, who decried his father’s corruption, declared loyalty openly to the new Emperor and her war against the corrupt church?
Hubert had not thought it a good idea. His classmates swore themselves to Edelgard’s cause, one after the other. Ferdinand’s oath of allegiance was quietly spoken, his face still and faraway. Hubert set himself to watch him and so he saw the way Ferdinand only came alive when they were in battle. He fought like he danced, with a concentration of technical precision that was almost grace, but his eyes were wild. Hubert took his eyes off Ferdinand and Lady Edelgard for one second to hastily force a concoction down Linhart’s throat and in that blink of time, Ferdinand managed to get in the way of an axe. It caught him deep in the shoulder, a splutter of blood in the air. Afterwards, he protested that it had been aimed for Lady Edelgard’s head.
“I was in no danger,” Lady Edelgard said later to Hubert.
“That can be hard to ascertain correctly in battle.”
“No, Hubert, I am certain of it,” Lady Edelgard said. “Ferdinand did not need to take that blow for me.”
Hubert felt his throat tighten. He cleared it. “If that is what he - if he chooses to throw his life away like that, let it be in service to your safety.”
He wished he had not said it immediately. Lady Edelgard’s face looked ten years older as she replied, “Nevertheless. Ferdinand has sworn himself to my cause. It comes at great cost to him. It is natural that his heart should be troubled. We must watch out for him, Hubert.”
But it was Dorothea who came with Ferdinand when he requested leave to return to the Aegir estates. Ferdinand’s flamboyant cooperation removed a potentially powerful figurehead from Lady Edelgard’s opposition and sent a convincing message about the righteousness of her cause, Dorothea argued in concert with Ferdinand. And so Lady Edelgard had conceded and let Ferdinand go home.
Ferdinand had been dutifully sending the proceeds of the Aegir holdings to the Crown but there was still Wildfall Court, the seat of the Aegir family, and its stable of fine warhorses. To say nothing of what was inside the house.
The Aegir ladies had always been fond of jewelry, the men of weapons, and the whole family fond of silverware. The Aegir Grand Service was four thousand pieces and it was worth at least half of Faerghus (the good half, not Galatea territory). The war funds had to come from somewhere.
It had been four years since Lady Edelgard’s open declaration of war against the Church of Seiros. Three years since Ferdinand von Aegir had begged leave to return to Aegir lands to oversee its transition to Crown property. And now, Hubert was there to speed that process along and retrieve the Grand Service for melting.
“And bring Ferdinand back to Enbarr while you’re at it,” Lady Edelgard said.
Hubert was not the right person for this and he said so - at least, he said this was not a reasonable use of his time. Lady Edelgard had disagreed. So here he was, bumping along roads that had once been well-kept but were no longer, rolling inexorably towards the remaining Aegir family whose lives he had ruined. Hubert had always prided himself on doing what had to be done, but that didn’t mean he relished the idea of arriving in person to seize the plates and cutlery and their only son too.
If that only son was willing to be seized, and Hubert had his doubts there.
***
They emerged through a dense thicket of trees, arriving at Wildfall Court as dusk fell. Out in the countryside, Enbarr’s temperate autumns became significantly chillier once the sun began its descent. Hubert suspected it had something to do with all the leaves, though he didn’t think the grass was innocent either.
A knock came from the top of the carriage and his coachwoman said, “You’re certain this is the right place?”
Hubert peered out into the gloom. The house was certainly big and pretentious-looking enough to be the seat of the Aegir family but it was dark. Usually the great houses were overrun with staff, gardeners to see the carriage rolling along the lanes, sentry to send word to the housekeepers, footmen to lift out one’s luggage. Hubert hadn’t thought he was unexpected. Surely Lady Edelgard had written?
He opened the carriage door and tugged his cloak tighter around him. “Wait here,” he told Pomona and walked towards the swoop of stairs leading up to the great wooden doors, gravel crunching under his boots. The door knockers were shaped like two large human hands, hanging limply as the fingers cradled an iron ball. Hubert wrinkled his nose as he lifted one and let it drop heavily, and then again.
He waited for long enough that the horses were starting to make protesting noises. Hubert was on the verge of losing his temper and blasting through to find Ferdinand and his family’s stupid collection of silverware and fling both into the carriage. He reached up to grab that nasty iron door knocker one more time and as he did so, someone opened the door
It was Ferdinand.
“H-Hubert?” he said, sounding about as gobsmacked as if Hubert really had just Dark Spiked his way in.
Maybe he had. Hubert certainly felt like he’d been hit in the head by a flying piece of door. Ferdinand was - Ferdinand looked -
“Your hair,” Hubert said stupidly.
“Oh.” Vaguely embarrassed, Ferdinand fingered a long lock of red-gold. “Ah, yes, I have been a bit busy truthfully. I suppose it is getting a bit too much.”
Everything about Ferdinand was a bit too much for Hubert right now.
Ferdinand was handsome. Through his seething haze of irritation, Hubert had always been forced to acknowledge that, even when he really, really did not want to. Usually this was after waking up with a start in his dormitory room at three in the morning, after uncomfortable dreams.
Ferdinand’s shoulders were broader now. He had been slender and graceful in youth and he was still that. Just - Hubert gulped - with forty-five pounds of additional muscle and a very tight shirt on. And his hair. Hubert had never seen anything like it. Ferdinand wore it loose and it fell in twists and waves of russet and orange and gold, like a drunken sunset. Hubert had the errant thought that if he plunged his hands in that waving mass, they would surely come away burned. His fingers twitched with desire anyway.
With a jolt, Hubert realised that Ferdinand had also been studying him in turn. His honeyed eyes travelled up Hubert until their gazes met and held. Ferdinand’s face was red.
“Oi!” roared Pomona. “Is this the right place or not? Because these horses need feeding and combing and we’ve been standing out here at least twenty minutes now!”
Hubert whirled around furiously. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything resulting in dismissal or instantaneous death, Ferdinand called down:
“My apologies! We were not expecting your arrival for a few more days yet. I will come down and show you where the stables are. Hubert, I will get your things settled shortly.”
And he walked past Hubert. Feeling like he had no choice, Hubert went with him. Ferdinand started to help his coachwoman unload the carriage and instead of asking where the footmen were, Hubert did so as well. He followed silently as Ferdinand took the reins of the horses, taking them towards the stables, chatting with Pomona the whole while. Here at least there was some sign that Ferdinand was not all alone in that huge, dark house. The stables were warm and well-lit, filled with the smell of straw and horse and a groom came forward immediately to take the reins from Ferdinand.
“Please make sure to take Miss Gessner to the kitchens so she can get a warm meal. Perhaps a hot bath too. It must have been a chilly journey for you.”
Hubert’s coachwoman gave Ferdinand one last adoring look as she went. Hubert wondered sourly where his warm meal and hot bath were as Ferdinand led him back to the front of the house. To his immense shock, Ferdinand hoisted one of Hubert’s chests onto his shoulders.
“Saints, Hubert! What is in here? Poisons surely cannot weigh this much.”
“That shows how much poisoning experience you have,” sniped Hubert automatically, reaching down to pick up his own bag as his mind worked. Where were all the servants? He still remembered Ferdinand’s surprise in the first few days at Garreg Mach when he found out the students were expected to cook and clean around the monastery and now here he was, acting like Hubert’s porter. Also, Lady Edelgard was right. He absolutely should not have packed so much paperwork. Who knew how heavy it could become?
Ferdinand went up the stairs slowly but steadily, bracing Hubert’s chest. There was sufficient sunlight to watch the way his hair fell and the way his shoulders moved under his shirt. Hubert wasn’t what you could call a godly man but under the circumstances, it almost seemed rude not to send up a prayer of thankfulness.
A woman hurried to meet them as they came in. Clearly Ferdinand’s housekeeper, she wore a harried expression and was already coming forward with her hands outstretched to divest Hubert of his bags. Hubert couldn’t help the rush of relief at her pleasant normality as she fussed around them.
“This is my old schoolmate, Mrs. Brunhold,” Ferdinand said. “I think we will have to put him in the Derrick suites. I can take him there myself. Perhaps you could let Lady Aegir know that dinner should be served in the blue dining room tonight instead.”
Mrs. Brunhold opened her mouth and closed it again as Ferdinand gave her a little nod. “Of course, Master Ferdinand,” she said. She bowed towards Hubert. “It is a pleasure to have a guest in the house, Mr…?”
“Oh, this is Hubert von Vestra. My old schoolmate. But I said that already.” For some reason, Ferdinand was blushing. Hubert watched the way his skin warmed at his cheeks and ears. He wanted to lean forward and catch at a lobe with his lips and teeth. He wanted to see if Ferdinand’s skin would be hot against his tongue. He wanted to - what was happening to him?
The look Mrs. Brunhold gave him became repressive. Hubert reminded himself it was impossible that she could read his mind. “I see,” she said. “I will inform Lady Aegir who will be dining with you tonight. If you will leave his trunk, Master Ferdinand, and I will see that Wilhelm takes it up.”
“Should I leave any special instructions for Wilhelm?” Ferdinand asked as he took Hubert up an ostentatiously carved staircase. The wallpaper was white and silver, very intermittently lit by candles. Ferdinand caught all the light there was, it gleamed in the auburn currents of his hair, the gold of his eyes. Hubert told himself to stop looking at Ferdinand’s accursed mane. Obediently, his eyes slid down to Ferdinand’s ass instead, the muscles moving under the fine cotton sateen of Ferdinand’s pants.
“Special instructions?” he managed.
“Should Wilhelm keep your trunk upright?” Ferdinand said. “Will it blow him to smithereens if he is not supremely careful putting it down?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hubert snapped. After a moment, he added, “He should keep it upright. And lower it gently to the floor. And put it somewhere the sunlight isn’t too strong.”
“I will be sure to let him know,” said Ferdinand wrily, glancing over his shoulder. Their eyes met and Hubert watched in fascination as Ferdinand reddened again and whipped his head around to face the hall. The blush was all the way down the back of his neck now. Hubert wanted to see how low it could go.
“Did Her Majesty write?” Hubert said as they walked. He wanted to make Ferdinand look at him again.
“Her letter arrived only a few days ago, we did not expect you here so soon,” Ferdinand said.
“My arrival took you by surprise.”
“To put it mildly,” Ferdinand said, glancing at Hubert. “Ah, through here, please.”
He took Hubert through another, smaller hallway and then into a large set of rooms, one of which had a four-poster bed, a series of horse paintings hung in gilt frames on the walls, and an enormous window with a wide ledge. Hubert instinctively drew the curtains. The sun was gone by now and he did not relish the thought of anyone getting a good look into his quarters. There was nothing he could do about the horse paintings but it was a nice room, surprisingly cozy despite its size.
“There is an office through here,” Ferdinand said, taking him through the connecting door. It held shelves full of books and ledgers, a large desk, and a door.
“Where does that go?” Hubert said, pointing.
“To my quarters,” Ferdinand said and then he swallowed. Hubert watched the way the smooth skin of his throat worked. When he dragged his eyes up again, Ferdinand was studying him in turn. There was a look in Ferdinand’s eyes that set Hubert’s guts clenching.
“You cut your hair,” Ferdinand said.
Hubert’s hand flew up to the nape of his neck. It suddenly felt very bare. “Dorothea insisted,” he said defensively. “She said she was quite tired of watching me loom behind Lady Edelgard looking like a second-rate villain from the Moon Knight’s Tale.”
“I always thought that a deliberate aesthetic choice on your part.”
Hubert tightened his mouth. His face - raw-boned, hollow-cheeked - served its own purpose in his role as the whip in Lady Edelgard’s hand but for some reason, Ferdinand made it difficult to outrun his childish regret at not being fairy-tale handsome.
“Such frivolities have never been my concern,” he sneered, stepping closer, instinctively using his height to loom over Ferdinand. “We do not have time to waste in this war and you have taken a long time to wrap up your business here. It is time you returned to Enbarr to resume your responsibilities to Her Majesty.”
“A long time,” sputtered Ferdinand. As usual, he did not give way to Hubert’s implicit threat. He never had. Instead he stabbed a finger into Hubert’s face. “You think three years is enough time to complete a transition of this magnitude? I have - Edelgard has responsibilities to the tenants of these territories. There are repairs that must be made, plowing must be done for the spring wheat crop -”
“Lady Edelgard needs you for the war effort,” hissed Hubert. “Hiding down here hoping to survive till the war is over and the dust settles has never been an option for you, Ferdinand. Not after you swore allegiance to her at Garreg Mach.”
“Of course that was never an option!” Ferdinand shouted. “I would never abandon my friends, or you and Edelgard! But I have responsibilities here as well and three years is no time at all to ensure that the people in the Aegir territory do not suffer from gross mismanagement!”
They were very close to each other. Hubert was suddenly aware of his heartbeat, quick behind his ribs. He wanted to shove Ferdinand down onto that desk, bend him over, touch him till Ferdinand was begging for his mercy. He didn’t want to think about how much of this his expression revealed. Probably enough. Ferdinand’s eyes were wild. He looked at Hubert like he didn’t know whether to kiss him, all tongue and teeth, or punch him in the face.
Hubert was the one who stepped away. It was worth it to see the way Ferdinand’s face fell. He took a steadying breath and said, “The war needs funds, so I am here to bring back the Aegir Grand Service. But the Black Eagle Strike Force needs you. I did not mean to imply that your work here is something that can be rushed but -”
“Yes,” Ferdinand said tiredly. “Edelgard said as much. I need to go and check on dinner preparations - they should be done soon. You have had a long journey and should take time to rest.”
He started to leave the room but not before giving Hubert another up-and-down look, like he couldn’t help himself. At the door, Ferdinand turned.
“Your new haircut suits you admirably,” he said, very low, and then he was gone. Hubert was left standing, something unnameable slowly unfurling in his chest.
***
He did not take any additional pains to dress for dinner. It was only natural to wash after two weeks in a carriage and on uneven roads. Hubert had a responsibility to represent Lady Edelgard to the best of his abilities. That was the only reason he put on the shirt and frock-coat he had bought at Bernadetta and Dorothea’s behest in a little tailor shop in Enbarr. It had nothing to do with that look in Ferdinand’s eyes, the way his breath came a little more quickly when Hubert had stood closer than politeness allowed.
The coat was black, of course, but of a fine wool broadcloth instead of the hardy cotton twill of his military clothing. Despite his protests, Bernadetta had embroidered a little pattern of waterwheel plants onto the cuffs and collar. She had done it in black silk so it was barely noticeable but Hubert still felt wildly frivolous when he put it on. Hubert squinted at himself in the mirror and was about to fuss with his bangs again when a knock came. He pulled his hand away as if it were scalded.
After several large steps away from the looking glass, he said, “Enter.”
Ferdinand stuck his head in. His hair had been pulled back inexpertly from his face, straggles of red falling over his navy waistcoat. “I thought I would walk you down to the blue dining room.”
Hubert scoffed at first. Truthfully, he had hoped for time to search the room before going down to dinner. At least he’d thought to put safety measures in place for his belongings. If anyone touched them while he was out of the room, he would know it. Probably from the screaming.
But Ferdinand insisted. “Wildfall is not an easy house to navigate.”
This was hardly Hubert’s first time in a grand house and he was used to the palace in Enbarr, after all. Historically, House Vestra did not have their own estate but they occupied a full wing of the palace, close to the emperor’s chambers, and that wing was the size of one of Enbarr’s city blocks. But Wildfall Court was like no house he had been in. It twisted and turned. Doors opened into staircases, hallways widened and then narrowed like rivers, opening suddenly into grand rooms or trickling away into odd corners. Ferdinand navigated the dreamscape of the house easily. As he followed him through the winding corridors, Hubert found himself thinking of the fairytales their old classmate, Ashe Ubert, had favoured: knights lost into Fodlan’s forests, led by fairy queens with their long, witchfire-hair.
Then he made himself get a grip. Fodlan’s forests had enough strange creatures lurking in their depths without addle-pated writers adding to the clutter. Lost saints, crest-riddled beasts, monsters who wore the faces of loved ones like a favoured cloak. There was no need to add fairy queens to the blend.
The blue dining room lived up to its name, with a wallpaper of creamy pale azure. The Aegir family was known for their distinctive colouring, it must have been picked to flatter and it certainly did. Ferdinand’s hair was a living flame against the blue, his skin warm and gilded in the candlelight. Hubert tore his eyes away in enough time not to embarrass himself at the entrance of Mrs. Brunhold.
She laid out the servingware in silence, perhaps in deference to Hubert’s presence. Ferdinand went to the carafe to pour out drinks.
“So, the Aegir Grand Service, have you seen it in its entirety? I can take you to it tomorrow, if you would like. There is a candelabra that was specially commissioned by Bathsheba von Aegir that is particularly beautiful -”
Hubert bit down a flash of irritation. Ferdinand was speaking as if he had come here to take the silverware to a museum. With fine crystalware in his hands and his embroidered waistcoat, Ferdinand looked like he belonged to this opulent room, even with his mismanaged hair.
Hubert could not help but think of his face after the battle of Garreg Mach, bone-white under the gore. He wanted to ask if Ferdinand’s shoulder still troubled him. Instead he sipped his wine and said, “I’m sure it will go a long way towards outfitting our troops as needed.”
“Single-minded, as always,” said Ferdinand. The corners of his mouth tilted up slightly, though Hubert couldn’t see what the Void there was to smile about. “You’re right, of course. Wilhelm and I can have it packed up quickly. I am astonished Edelgard sent you to retrieve it. She could have easily written and I could have arranged for its delivery in just a few days.”
Of course Ferdinand could not be pleased to have Hubert turn up out of the blue on his doorstep. “I doubt it will take more than a day to pack up. After all, it hardly needs to be done carefully since it will all be melted down,” Hubert said brutally.
Ferdinand looked distressed. “But Hubert, you must be careful transporting it back. A cargo of such value is hard to keep quiet and you arrived with only your coachwoman. Of course, I know how formidable you are in battle, but the two of you alone -”
“I will not be alone,” Hubert said. He took a sip of his wine and licked his lips, watching the way Ferdinand’s eyes followed the movement. “You will be with me.”
Ferdinand swallowed. “I - with you - uh -”
“Yes, I am taking you along with the silver. Can you be ready in two days?”
Ferdinand blinked and the slightly dazed expression on his face cleared significantly as the actual meaning of Hubert’s words sank in. “In two days!”
“You knew that you would have to rejoin us,” Hubert said.
“I always planned to,” Ferdinand protested. “But at this time -”
“Her letter -”
“Arrived barely three days before you did!” Ferdinand glared at him. “This is outrageous. If you and Edelgard wanted me back in Enbarr, more notice should have been provided. Our largest planting is at hand and I cannot go away so suddenly without time to make arrangements! I have to oversee the -”
“You are no longer the Aegir heir,” Hubert snapped. “You are here by the grace of Her Majesty -”
“Very well!” flared Ferdinand. “I am here by her grace and as her steward! And she has responsibilities to the people on this land! The harvests have been good this year but that means nothing if they are not gathered and stored properly! More than thirty percent of our yield is going to the Crown and the rest must last our county through the winter -”
“That Her Majesty has allowed you to stay away so long is a marker of her faith in you. It had better not have been misplaced.”
“If you question my loyalty to Edelgard and her cause again, Hubert,” Ferdinand said, stepping towards him. “I am going to forcibly remove your teeth from your mouth. We are not pieces on a board that you and Edelgard may move at your convenience!”
When he forgot himself in argument, Ferdinand’s perfect posture dissolved as he drew himself up to meet Hubert’s height. Hubert told himself to stop noticing the broad line of Ferdinand’s shoulders but it was impossible. Ferdinand in a fury was something he could not tear his eyes away from.
A genteel little cough made itself heard. Hubert startled, eyes still full of Ferdinand’s blazing glory, and blinked at the woman standing in the door.
“Mother!” Ferdinand exclaimed. “I did not hear you come in.”
“That much is clear,” Lady Aegir replied. She took her seat calmly.
“This is my classmate, ma’am. Hubert, my mother, Duch - uh.”
Hubert ignored Ferdinand’s fumbling of the title, bowing impassively. Lady Aegir’s entrance felt like a bucket of cold water over him.
He had known, in an academic sense, that Ferdinand must have a mother around but his spies had found little about Lady Aegir. Crestless herself, before her marriage she had taken a Pegasus Knight certification during her time at the Officers’ Academy and evidently had not done much with it. She married shortly after graduating and seemed perfectly content to be left rusticating in the country while her husband peacocked himself about Enbarr. Hubert expected a nonentity, married for the legacy of Crests in her bloodline. Lady Aegir was something else entirely.
She had the same brown eyes and warm skin tone as her son. Her hair was of a deeper, bloodier tone; she wore it in a coronet around her handsome face. It was clear where Ferdinand had inherited his looks from, if not his disposition. Lady Aegir had all the animation of a marble pillar and the face she turned towards Hubert was as cold and distant as a star. If she was upset to no longer be a Duchess, she showed no sign of it, accepting Hubert’s obeisance with a calm nod.
“Of House Vestra?” she said. “You have the look of your father.”
It was the worst thing she could have said and there was no way to tell if she knew it. Hubert contented himself with inclining his head. “Yes, some people say so,” his tone making it clear what he thought of those people.
“I knew him a little, when I was younger,” Lady Aegir said.
Hubert was saved from answering by the re-entrance of Mrs. Brunhold, and someone too young to be Mr. Brunhold. Perhaps Wilhelm, with both hands intact after handling Hubert’s trunk. They served a stew of baked quail and squab chicken, green heaps of purslane on the side. Hubert couldn’t think of the last time he had sat down for dinner with other people. Back in Enbarr, Edelgard usually ate at her desk after Hubert had tasted her food for poison. She occasionally asked him to join her; Hubert rarely did. She would have liked the stew. It was rich with butter and smelt of thyme and mushrooms. Hubert wished she was here. Even if it was unlikely she would make things less awkward. It was impossible to tell how much Lady Aegir had overheard of their conversation, she looked wholly unconcerned as she cut her food with mechanical precision.
“I hope your journey was not tiresome,” she said. “We have not had any reports of bandit activity in quite some time.”
“There were none,” Hubert said and was surprised at the look of naked relief on Ferdinand’s face. “Have you had problems with that?”
“Many, before Ferdinand’s return,” Lady Aegir said, as calmly as if she were discussing the weather. “Fortunately, it is no longer an issue for now.”
“It was certainly not all my doing,” Ferdinand started to say. “And they did not manage to terrorize too much of the territory, thanks to -”
“Nonsense,” Lady Aegir said and to Hubert’s astonishment, Ferdinand shut his mouth with a snap. “It is an issue that could reemerge at any time, depending on the coming circumstances.” She placed her fork down and turned to look at Hubert fully. “It is to be hoped that Her Majesty may resolve her war sooner, rather than later.”
Ferdinand was famous for his headlong rushes into tactlessness, but Lady Aegir’s plain-speaking was as calculated as rolling a ballista onto the field. Hubert felt a rush of pleasure dealing with an opponent who clearly considered rapier wit as useless as a toothpick. He too preferred the mace to the face approach.
“I share your sentiments,” he said. “Since Aegir territory now belongs to the Crown, its resources should be marshalled to best support Her Majesty’s war towards a swift victory. And that includes the return of General Aegir to the field.”
“Since Aegir territory now belongs to the Crown, Edelgard should take particular care to ensure the wellbeing of its people!” Ferdinand exploded. Clearly his temper had not been quenched by his mother’s entrance. “The Conscription Act means an acute shortage of labour -”
“You swore your allegiance to Lady Edelgard,” hissed Hubert, feeling his own temper spike helplessly in response, “and I will not allow you to abandon her now -”
“Part of that allegiance means making sure this territory is run well! The profits from our yield go straight to the Crown -”
Even Ferdinand’s hair seemed to bristle as he spoke. Hubert grit his teeth, watching the way the blue ribbon strained vainly to hold the thick fall of red in place. He felt in distinct sympathy with it, barely able to leash his desire to get Ferdinand by the lapels and -
There was the cool tinkle of metal as Lady Aegir placed her spoon down. She did not speak until they had wrenched their gazes away from each other and were looking at her, Ferdinand in some embarrassment, Hubert with plain suspicion.
“A month should be sufficient,” she said.
“A month,” Hubert echoed distrustfully.
“A month? Yes!” Ferdinand clapped his hands onto the table, causing the crystal to chime. “That might be just enough. Hubert, give me a month. I can ensure a smooth transition, one that ensures both Edelgard and Aegir territory’s needs are met.”
Before Hubert could respond, Lady Aegir said, “The two of you may think on it further after dinner.” Her cool, amber eyes were on Hubert. “I trust that is enough for us to have a peaceful meal?”
Hubert did not think it was remotely adequate but Ferdinand was looking at him pleadingly and he needed more time to think. He did not say anything but took a sip of his wine. Both Lady Aegir and Ferdinand took that as enough acquiescence to begin a low patter - mostly led by Ferdinand - of estate business. Lady Aegir made the requisite listening noises. Hubert felt her eyes flickering over him though he never caught her at it. Eventually, she signalled the end of the meal by pushing her chair back.
“You must be tired,” she said to Hubert. “Let me call for Wilhelm to take you back to the Derrick Suite. Ferdinand, I would like to speak to you a little further on the matter of orchards.”
It seemed ridiculous to protest. Wilhelm had clearly been waiting at the door and sprung into action at the mention of his name. Hubert left the remaining Aegir family in their cool blue room and as he did so, he noticed that Lady Aegir had left her plate mostly untouched.
***
It did not inspire him with much ease, though Ferdinand had eaten from the same dishes and cleared his plate heartily enough. Wilhelm was not inclined to be chatty and Hubert made a note to have his coachwoman see what information she could get out of the staff, such as they were. He paid sharp attention as he was led to his rooms - without Ferdinand there to distract him, it was much easier - and was pleased to already find the route familiar.
A wave of relief crested over him as he entered the large, strange room. It was a distinct pleasure to be alone again after two weeks on the road, and one of the most disorienting evenings he had spent. Hubert stripped off his clothes. His immediate inclination was to go to bed but a long-ingrained habit had him examining the room before he would let himself sleep.
It was clear no one had been in here since he had left with Ferdinand; his little traps were undisturbed. Yet, as Hubert poked and prodded around the room, his sense of disquiet grew. The room was neat and tidy but it simply did not have the impersonality of a guest suite. There were an awful lot of horse paintings, though perhaps that was simply the way Aegir tastes went. Hubert, who considered interior decorating mostly from the standpoint of how many knives were too many for one pillow, did not feel he was in the position to judge.
The office shelves contained years of estate account books and ledgers. The quills at the desk were well-used, the ink bottle half empty. Pulling open the drawers revealed familiar bags of tea. Hubert recognized them at once as Ferdinand’s favourite Southern Fruit blend.
He went back into the bedroom. The bookshelves there held a ridiculous amount of weapons catalogues, along with novels with titles like The Courteous Spectre, The Albinean and A Long and Fatal Love Chase. Hubert was about to pull out a volume titled Severity and Servitude before he decided he really did not want to know.
He sat down heavily on the bed and eyed the nightstand beside it suspiciously. The first drawer held an empty notepad, several dry apple cores and a tangle of ribbons. That was more than sufficient to confirm his suspicions and yet, Hubert pulled open the second drawer anyway.
He stared at the glass instrument inside it, the little vials of oil. The realization burned over his skin, or maybe it was the sudden sharp image of Ferdinand using this toy on himself -
On hands and knees on the bed, long hair falling in red coils over his shoulders, slicking his fingers up with that oil. Sliding long digits into himself with a soft gasp. Spreading his knees even wider as he sunk down onto his fingers, preparing himself. Maybe he would be impatient, slicking himself thickly with oil and pressing two fingers in, just eager for what came next. Low little noises of need that blurred into a name at the end.
Ferdinand sliding the toy into himself, sighing with the pleasure of being filled, cock heavy and dripping between his legs. He would drag it in and out, scraping noises of pleasure from his throat with each movement. Arching his back as his hand worked -
And then Ferdinand was on his back, hair spread in a blaze over the pillows. Hubert, he would say, hips canting upwards needily, Hubert, please - ah! - Please, I beg you - do not make me wait -
Waiting would be exactly what Hubert had in mind. Anything to keep Ferdinand looking at him like this, his eyes fixed on Hubert like he could not look away. Like all his wants and wishes were concentrated solely on him. Ferdinand’s nipples peaked, sensitive. His mouth wet, open, panting Hubert’s name.
When Hubert approached, it would round greedily and Ferdinand would moan again as Hubert straddled his chest, pressed his cock into that wet, willing warmth. Ferdinand’s tongue sliding against the underside of his cock. Ferdinand’s cheeks hollowing as he sucked. The flutter of his eyelashes as Hubert ordered him to keep his eyes open, watch Hubert’s face as he fucked Ferdinand’s mouth.
He would cry out around the cock in his throat as Hubert reached back to play with his nipples, the sound with an edge of a sob to it as Ferdinand’s hands fisted into the sheets, as he ached, not touching himself without Hubert’s permission, taking his pleasure only as Hubert willed it -
Hubert cursed. His orgasm felt like a blow to the head. The burn in his gut slowly faded with the image of Ferdinand, filled at both ends and at Hubert’s pleasure. He had spilled all over his hand like a callow youth in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
Hubert shut the drawer without another look at its contents and cleaned himself off. Resolutely refusing to think, he fell back into the bed - Ferdinand’s bed - and closed his eyes. He would find out the reason for all of this tomorrow. The lack of servants, what Lady Aegir was about. Why the hell he had been placed in Ferdinand’s personal rooms and where Ferdinand was sleeping in the meantime. Whether there was room in the carriage for his paperwork, four thousand silver pieces of ostentatious claptrap, and Ferdinand hog-tied to take back to Enbarr.
Hubert’s eyes shot open. He should not have thought about Ferdinand hog-tied and taken. He made a furious noise and did not allow himself to bury his face into a pillow to search out more the scent of Ferdinand’s bergamot hair oil.