Chapter Text
I
With Hubert's words still ringing in his ears, the mere thought of seeing him again turned Ferdinand's stomach upside down. The only thing stronger than his desire to take a page out of Bernadetta's book and feign an illness was the fact that doing so would be akin to admitting how much that whole affair affected him.
He combed his hair with more care than usual, retied his cravat, and then finally shoved his clammy hands into his pristine white gloves. That was as much stalling as he could permit himself. As he reasoned with himself on the way out of his room, he likely wouldn't see Hubert until their classes started, and the lessons would provide ample distraction from the unpleasantness of the previous day.
Unless, of course, he ran into Hubert right outside his door.
"Good morning," Ferdinand managed to say through the lump in his throat.
Hubert glanced at him, his face unreadable. "If you insist."
As if he wasn't embarrassed enough, he could feel flush creeping up his neck. He hated it. He hated that he couldn't control his reaction. He hated giving Hubert so much power over his peace of mind. He hated the smug glint in his eyes. Ferdinand averted his face and continued down the hallway, heading for a breakfast he had no appetite for.
Civility was apparently too much to hope for.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
On one hand, their students weren't mercenaries. On the other hand, many of them would one day issue commands in their territories, and as such they needed to gain as much tactical experience as possible, just in case. Byleth understood all that, but what puzzled them was how every strategy meeting before a mission turned into a drawn-out argument.
"For the last time," Edelgard started, pinching the bridge of her nose, "we lack the time and the manpower to lay siege."
Ferdinand stood up, resting his hands on his hips. "Who said anything about a siege? I simply suggested that we should surround the tower, cut off the escape routes, and give the bandit leader the opportunity to surrender so that the Relic may be retrieved-"
"That is basically a siege," Byleth pointed out.
"Hubert is right, we need to take advantage of the element of surprise," Edelgard went on. "Not only is there the Lance of Ruin to contend with, the leader proved himself to be a gifted commander."
"I am shocked to hear such praise for an ignoble-"
Ferdinand fell silent and when Byleth glanced over, his face was sheet white and he was staring at Hubert.
His classmate tucked a folded piece of paper into his jacket, and before Byleth could ask about what that was about — not that they were too concerned, the princess' loyal vassal had a tendency to weave threats into the most mundane of interactions — Hubert offered their teacher a tight nod.
"Well, Professor? Should we begin our preparations?"
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Back in his room, Hubert reopened the letter with care, if not with reverence. A whiff of perfume hit his nose with all the delicacy of a battle hammer, making him wince. Well, the contents were immaterial anyway, though once he found out the words within were meant in earnest, they provided him with some amusement.
Arrogant and pleading in turns, they were the babblings of an immature fop, so gripped by his own foolish infatuation that it had not occurred to him once that the response could be anything other than favourable.
He folded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket. It was not sentiment that made him keep it — no, it was the hope that it could be utilised to prevent Ferdinand from becoming too much of a nuisance to lady Edelgard.
Like a man savouring a glass of fine brandy, Hubert lingered on the memory of Ferdinand's expression as he described to him, in great detail, what he thought of his confession. Some would think him overly harsh, but if he'd managed to bruise that outsized ego by some miracle, he would lose no sleep over it.
II
"Ferdinand, I think you got the wrong idea," Linhardt drawled, slowly crossing his arms, "my answer was not an invitation to negotiate."
"No, it is most certainly you who failed to understand my point." He lowered his voice and added in an urgent whisper: "I simply cannot share a tent with Hubert."
"And I simply cannot share a tent with someone who talks in his sleep."
Ferdinand blinked. "How do you know about that?"
"An educated guess."
The young noble ran a hand through his hair for what had to be the hundredth time that evening. "Linhardt, please. Just this once."
"That's something you'll have to discuss with the professor."
"I tried!" He stomped his foot. "They only told me to ask you!"
"And you did. And the answer is no." Stifling a yawn, Linhardt waved dismissively at his classmate. "This conversation bores me. Good night."
Ferdinand remained standing there for a moment longer, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach growing stronger. Linhardt refused, and he couldn't share a tent with a lady. He would have to spend the night with Hubert or freeze.
There were many benefits to training one's body to withstand sub-optimal temperatures. The field trip offered valuable experience, but he could maximise the gains by using the night to…
Ferdinand's train of thought was interrupted by the chattering of his teeth. His fate was sealed. He'd meet it like a true noble, with his resolve unshaken, and his head held high. And at any rate, after the day they'd had, Hubert was likely to be asleep already.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
"What took you so long?"
Or not.
In the flickering light of travel lamps, he couldn't make out his classmate's face with any real clarity. Grateful for the blessing, small as it was, Ferdinand turned away and began to unfold his bedroll.
"Since I assumed this arrangement would be as unpleasant to you as it is to me," he began haughtily, "I took it upon myself to find an alternative solution. In vain."
"Is my company truly so loathsome to you?" Hubert asked and even with his back turned Ferdinand could hear the smirk in his words. "Oh my, how fickle you are."
Ferdinand stilled. "Do not start."
First there was a rustle of bedding, and then Hubert cleared his throat. "Now, if only I could remember precisely… ah yes. Dear Hubert, I turn to you because you are the only one who can-"
Ferdinand turned back quickly, gripping his bedroll as though he wanted to tear it in two. "Hubert, stop this, or I swear that…"
He couldn't think of an appropriate way to end that sentence.
Hubert looked at him, his strange, lopsided grin widening. "-respond to my heart's most ardent plea. Though I know it is not a union that can ever come to-"
A garbled sound clawed its way out of the young noble's throat, but it wasn't enough to drown out the litany.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
As much as Byleth cared for their students, they welcomed the break. The silence, mostly.
It would be a long night of patrolling. Normally, they'd all take turns, but the bandits they'd despatched earlier turned out to be more trouble than expected, and Byleth decided to let them rest.
They stretched and took a deep breath. A second later, there was a shout, then one of the tents shuddered, and collapsed in a heap. They quickly hurried over, just in time to stomp down a small fire from an overturned lamp.
They managed to pull out Hubert first, Ferdinand followed suit. The first student stayed as composed as ever, at least to a casual observer, but Byleth had familiarised themselves with his tells enough to know it was only an act. The other was shaking, and Byleth kept one arm around his shoulders purely because he looked ready to claw his classmate's vocal cords out. The fight began to leave him as soon as he saw their teacher though.
Byleth let go of Ferdinand and crossed their arms, waiting. The silence between the trio stretched, until it snapped.
"I apologise-" Ferdinand blurted out.
"Only a minor dispute, I assure you," Hubert said at the same time.
Somehow neither response came as a shock. Byleth gave them their best (not very good) 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' look. Ferdinand visibly wilted, while Hubert only averted his face.
"I don't care who started it," they said, "but I expect this not to happen again."
No sooner had they finished speaking than they realised it would absolutely happen again if the two remained in close proximity before they had the time to cool off. "One of you, pitch the tent, the other will follow me."
"… I will do it," Hubert sighed, reigniting the lamp with a spell.
Once Ferdinand pulled out his cloak and his lance from the wreckage, he followed Byleth, dragging his feet more than a gentleman should.
They walked in silence deeper for all the undertones of the night. Byleth had never seen him so sullen — maybe once, after his attempt to prove his superiority to Edelgard nearly earned him a permanent timeout underground. They didn't pity him then. At least he discovered his limitations before he got himself killed.
"That was not like you," they said as soon as they were out of Hubert's earshot.
"People used to tell me to act more like a noble when I was younger," Ferdinand mumbled, gnawing at his lower lip. "But yes, this was beneath me."
Knowing him, Byleth found such a thing hard to imagine. Still, Jeralt's Mercenaries had their fair share of aristocratic employers and many of them displayed impeccable self-possession even when their lands were falling apart around them. Had to be a noble thing.
"Have you two known each other for a long time?"
"In a manner of speaking. My father frequents the palace, and I accompanied him on more than one occasion, so we were acquainted. That said, prior to joining the Academy, I spent little time around my peers." His gaze dropped to the ground. "I confess, the adjustment has been… unexpectedly challenging. I hoped to find like-minded friends here, but all that changes is the date on the calendar."
Byleth would've liked to offer some comfort or a word of advice, but all they managed was a pat on the shoulder.
"For now just try not to get into any more fights. Keeping track of Caspar is hard enough." A pause. "It's only been a couple of months. By the time you graduate, everything will be different."
They didn't even know how right they were.
III
Ferdinand wasn't doing anything wrong. He had every right to walk down that hallway, because that was where his room could be found. If anyone ran into him and questioned his presence there, he could say just that.
The heavy sweetness of mulled wine stuck to the roof of his mouth while scraps of music echoed in his skull. A drop of sweat rolled down his neck under the stiff collar of his formal jacket. He had to go through with the plan. There would never be a finer opportunity. Ferdinand swallowed hard.
Although Hubert constantly taunted him with glimpses of the letter he'd given him, he had yet to do so that night. Ferdinand had hoped he wouldn't bring it to the ball, and if his prayers were answered… well, about time. That lapse in judgement would haunt him no more — as soon as he got the letter back.
Something stirred in the shadows, and he nearly jumped out of his skin before he realised it was only the cat that often sat in front of Edelgard's room. He bent down to pet it, but it dodged his hand and trotted away.
Right. He had a mission. And he truly wasn't doing anything wrong, as he kept repeating to himself. Technically speaking, he only wished to retrieve one of his possessions and return to the ball before anyone noticed his absence.
He tiptoed into Hubert's room, struck by the feeling of unseen eyes following his every move the moment he crossed the threshold. A glance around to steady his nerves — no, no one was watching him, he was alone with the moonlight.
It drained the world of colour and cast the room into sharp chiaroscuro. He'd never been there before, never spared much thought to it, but for a spell he stood there, startled by the emptiness. No hint of Hubert's personality, as rotten as it turned out to be. A trunk tucked under the bed, a small stack of books on the desk, an empty notebook, an unused quill and a sealed ink pot. Nothing more.
He thumbed through all the books just in case, then went on to look through the desk. With a huff, he ran his fingers over the empty drawer, wondering whether there was a false bottom, but then shook his head and closed it once more.
What need would his classmate have for such secrecy? He knew him to be a private person — the sole reason he opted for a letter rather than a more spectacular gesture — but the most logical conclusion was that Hubert wished to avoid cluttering up the small monastery room with anything superfluous.
Ferdinand glanced at the bed. There weren't awfully many hiding places in their rooms, so it was, perhaps, stashed under the mattress.
Before he could check, he paused by the window, spellbound. Snow. Uncommon on the Adrestian coast, it glittered against the night sky like a vision out of a fairytale. The thought of all the couples that would use the general state of merriment to sneak off to the Goddess Tower came to him in the form of a pang in the chest.
"What are you doing here?"
The young noble froze. Slowly, he turned around to face the last person he wanted to see. Hubert was standing at the threshold, untouched by the squares of silver light streaming in.
"Is… this not my room?" Ferdinand tried. "What a careless misstep on my part!"
Hubert raised the three hairs that he called an eyebrow and folded his arms. "This operetta is in rather poor taste, wouldn't you say?" Then once more, sharply: "What are you doing here?"
He gulped, scrambling for an excuse when realisation dawned over Hubert's features. Slowly, he crossed the room until he was but a sigh away from Ferdinand, looming over him. Without thinking, Ferdinand stepped back. His stomach lurched when his back hit the wall and he found himself boxed in. He looked up, meeting Hubert's pale green eyes that were fixed on him with an intensity that made it hard to think.
"You won't find it," he said, so close Ferdinand could feel his breath on his skin. "Such are the risks. As someone who has his heart set on politics, you should consider this a valuable lesson."
Ferdinand rested his hands on Hubert's chest, as if to push him away, but his fingers wouldn't obey him. Instead, he found himself gripping the front of the jacket the other wore, his head tilted back.
"What lesson?" he whispered.
Hubert leaned forward, their foreheads nearly touching. "If you must commit indiscretions," he murmured, "do not commit them to paper."
Then he pulled away, made for the door and held it open, once again reserve personified. Ferdinand stayed by the wall, blinking away the daze, reluctant to walk away, for he felt as though his knees would buckle under him any second.
"Run along now. Or…" Hubert paused, then continued, voice laced with sarcasm. "Or should I get the professor to escort you out of my room?"
That finally shook Ferdinand out of his stupor, at least enough to stumble out into the dark hallway and away from the dormitories.
He needed people.
He needed noise.
He needed light.
He needed to make it through the graduation and forget that whole affair.