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“I could try carrying you, but… well… I shouldn’t ask Hubert… that is…”
As a newly be-greened Byleth lay collapsed before her, Edelgard was caught between two options as she evaluated what decorum the current situation called for. Should she carry the unconscious professor herself, or give the order to Hubert? Whose hands were more appropriate for the task so as not to cause undue embarrassment to any parties? Had her dear teacher been a man or a woman then she would not be tripping over this particular triviality, although she mentally scolded herself for it being an issue no matter the context. For as much effort as she put into understanding her professor’s unique situation it was hard not to filter social interactions through the propriety of gender. Another outdated idea to dismantle when the time comes , she thought vaguely in the back of her mind. Another thing my teacher has taught me.
Luckily for Edelgard she didn’t have to decide since Hubert had already scooped the sleeping Byleth up in his arms. And that was for the best, she rationalized after her momentary lapse in judgement had subsided. Hubert and Byleth were closer, anyhow, though Hubert had never admitted such out loud. She was even sure Hubert hadn’t heard her awkward muttering, going to pick Byleth up instinctually without the need to be told.
Edelgard and Hubert’s eyes met for a brief second and she gave him a small smile with just the right amount of cheek for the situation, given the sorry state their friend was in. Just cheeky enough for Hubert to shoot back a look that said I don’t see what’s so funny. Edelgard mercifully fell back into her stern commander persona right after, turning to the other Black Eagles to placate their frantic and worried yelling at the sight of the professor who had just gone to hell and back, quite literally, now a comatose heap in Hubert’s arms.
Hubert looked down at Byleth, taking the opportunity to study their new appearance up close. He gave a grimace at the sight of his teacher’s now pistachio hair and the eerie glow it almost seemed to emit. Not that trifling matters such as one’s appearance mattered, but he found himself missing their old hair immediately. It was such a deep and saturated ocean blue, but now it was too close to that witch of an Archbishop’s hair. Even those soft periwinkle eyes that he found himself awkwardly staring at when alone with the professor were also gone under those closed eyelids. It was a terrible shame.
But shallow concerns like that didn’t matter when underneath the outward changes they were still the same person inside.
Right?
This fear lay half formed and smokelike at the back of Hubert’s mind. Of course from the moment Byleth wielded the Sword of the Creator everyone knew there something strange about them. But seeing them like this, he just had to wonder. What were they?
But the professor who emerged from the fissure between this world and some other had come to their students’ aid and fought with all the same ferocity and desire to protect as the professor who had disappeared. For now he would permit himself to believe that the person in his arms was the same sentimental and compassionate fool that he had finally deemed a worthy asset to his Lady. And as he carried the deathly still body with his intentions firmly set on getting Byleth back to Garreg Mach as soon as possible, he found himself hoping there would be plenty more opportunities to make further use of them.
Byleth had been in the infirmary for hours with no reported change in their condition. Hubert had stopped by at regular intervals to check in on their status, convincing himself that Lady Edelgard would be anxious to hear any news as soon as it should happen, but Manuela had shooed him away saying the frequency of his visits was starting to get annoying. She called him some other imaginative things as well, such as an overbearing lost puppy. She could be oh so dramatic, not to mention the way she projected her own lovesick nature onto others.
It was during Hubert’s fifteenth or so check-in (he had lost count) that something was finally different.
The first thing he noticed was Manuela on the first floor as he approached the flight of stairs he had become so familiar with. She looked aimless and slightly disgruntled, leaning against the wall and examining her fingernails as if time was moving too slow for her despite her best attempts to kill it. It was curious, thought Hubert, but she didn’t try to stop him as he approached the steps and the two shared an awkward glance, Manuela giving him a small shrug before looking away. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to make of it.
Was it permission to finally enter the infirmary and see his professor’s condition for himself? It struck him as irresponsible for her to leave Byleth unattended in such a state, but he was grateful nonetheless for the opportunity.
As he rounded the corner to head towards the infirmary he was struck by an unsettling melody drifting through the halls, which he slowly realized was getting louder the closer he got to his destination. He quieted his steps so as to hide his approach, and upon reaching the closed door he realized who that uncanny voice belonged to.
The Immaculate Monster herself.
He cringed inwardly as she continued her song, then leaned closer when he heard the quiet sounds of someone stirring from slumber. “Professor. You must remain still.”
“What happened?” murmured a quiet voice that could have only been Byleth’s. This was followed by more shuffling, and whatever Rhea saw must have upset her for she soon began whispering low shushing noises in an effort to placate them.
“Everything is alright. There is no need to worry. Those who are trying to harm you are far away,” she assured them.
“Why am I…” Byleth’s weary voice fought to escape their throat. “Why are you… please, get off me…”
Hubert clenched his fist upon hearing that. It was no secret that Lady Rhea was quite fond of Byleth for reasons that Byleth could not fathom. They had said as much to Hubert, and as unaffected as they tried to seem about the matter he knew they were deeply unsettled by the Archbishop.
“It’s me, dear one. It’s Rhea. I’m here now,” she said in a sickly sweet tone, still shushing Byleth’s outburst. “You’re safe.” A pause. “How lovely... it would be for this moment to last forever…”
“ And when I was in there she said, ‘I am not the archbishop, you’re speaking with Rhea. It's just me,’ and I didn’t know what to say. I don’t know her. Why does she act like she knows me? ” Byleth had once shared a visit to Rhea’s chambers with Hubert when the topic of the esteemed Archbishop had come up. Not even their flat affect could hide their discomfort from Hubert’s discerning eye. Rhea scared them.
“I… I just don’t… want… please, get off,” Byleth pleaded almost incoherently, still fighting slumber, but desperate to get the words out. The sound of shuffling fabric only grew in intensity as Byleth no doubt was trying to move out of whatever compromising situation they found themself in.
“It’s just me,” Rhea repeated, although there was an unmistakable hurt in her voice this time from Byleth’s rejection.
When Byleth let out a pathetic whimper it was finally more than Hubert could bear. Without thinking his hand raised to the door and he gave a firm knock, and all sound and motion ceased within the closed room for a moment before Rhea’s voice enunciated a very businesslike, “Who is it?”
Hubert’s response was opening the door and stepping inside. Normally he’d put on airs with a politely fake “forgive the intrusion my Lady,” but his words stuck in his throat when he saw Byleth’s head weakly trying to rise from its place on Rhea’s lap to see who had just walked in. They stared blankly with bright green eyes until a flash of recognition passed over their face, followed by what Hubert dared to believe was relief. He had forgotten his dear professor’s color change and for some reason being reminded by seeing them side by side with the Archbishop made it feel especially unbecoming. He almost felt violated on their behalf.
“Hubert,” Byleth whispered, finally finding the strength to sit up while Rhea was distracted. Hubert reveled in the particularly indignant look Lady Rhea gave him upon hearing Byleth call for him. The scowl he had entered the room with had turned into a very pleased smirk.
“Professor,” Hubert responded. He gave an annoyingly long pause before adding, “Archbishop.”
“Hubert,” she responded, cold and polite. “Come to check on our dear Professor as well? I’m afraid they are still in no condition to be leaving the infirmary.”
“I would have to agree, Archbishop. Although, upon closer inspection, I can’t say they look too comfortable in their current position. Perhaps the Professor has been left a little too tender from the battle to handle so much contact in their weakened state?” Hubert said. No point in being coy, not when Byleth was at stake.
Rhea pursed her lips, then looked down at Byleth in her lap whose eyes were fixed firmly on Hubert. Feeling Rhea’s gaze, however, they turned up and gave a small nod. Their composure had returned with the addition of a witness, and Rhea knew it wouldn’t do to insist on their shared moment any further now that she was outnumbered. She lifted Byleth off her gently and slipped off the bed.
“Shall we let the Professor rest then, Hubert?” Rhea said as she made to leave. The coldness she was radiating in his direction was enough to cause frostbite, and he found it simply hilarious.
“Wait,” Byleth said, tone and expression impassive once more. “I need to ask Hubert something.” Oh how he delighted in how that spark of defiance in Rhea’s eyes melted into defeat as she nodded and left without another word. They both waited until Rhea’s footsteps were out of reach before Hubert gently closed the door and crossed the room to stand at Byleth’s bedside.
“Were you listening then?” Byleth asked.
“Yes,” Hubert replied, forgoing any sort of sarcastic response he’d usually give to an accusation of eavesdropping.
“Thank you,” Byleth said with a shaky exhale, their expression softening as they closed their eyes. It was silent for a moment and Hubert thought they might have fallen back asleep. He turned around and stepped towards the door, content with the knowledge that his professor’s comatose state had been temporary.
“You’re leaving?” they asked, startling him a little. He turned back around.
“I think you’ve had enough visitors for one day,” he said dryly. Byleth ignored Hubert’s response.
“Were you the one who carried me?” Their eyes fluttered open. “It felt like you.”
Hubert crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I was, yes. Someone would have had to. I apologize if you are in any way made uncomfortable by the thought of me putting my hands on you.”
Byleth shook their head. “No, it’s okay when it’s you.”
Hubert gave a quiet laugh at that. “How forward.”
“Well, not just you. Any of my students. Just not her,” Byleth continued, their expression dropping slightly. “When she looks at me it’s like I’m not even there.” They looked thoughtful for a moment before locking eyes with Hubert. “I think… I hate her?”
“My, my, such blasphemous sentiments from someone employed by the church,” Hubert said with feigned shock to mask his real shock. “You think it safe to confide such dangerous thoughts with me? There’s no shortage of ways I can use that against you.”
But underneath the sarcasm Hubert found that his heart was traitorously beating too loud for him to ignore in his chest. Why the sudden rush of excitement? Was it the idea that this would make it so much easier for him and Lady Edelgard to sway the professor to their cause? That he didn’t have to leave them behind? They were such a valuable asset after all, it wouldn’t do to squander their potential like that…
“But you won’t,” Byleth said, giving one of their rare smiles, and Hubert was so taken aback by the sight that he almost forgot what Byleth was responding to.
“How… how can you be so sure?” Hubert said, giving one of his sly smiles as he internally cursed himself for stumbling over his words like that.
Byleth smiled wider and Hubert found himself having to look away from the blinding light of Byleth’s gaze. He felt something grab onto his sleeve. He swallowed, his throat feeling suddenly very dry, as he looked down at Byleth’s hand grasping his arm. They just continued smiling, no answer prepared for Hubert’s question, until their arm dropped a bit as they fought to keep their eyes open. Eventually their touch was absent again and Hubert was sure Byleth must be asleep this time.
“Trust isn’t in my nature,” Hubert muttered, repeating his words from the accidental meeting the two had at the Goddess Tower on the right of the ball. “But I suppose I am very fortunate it is in yours.”