Chapter Text
"How long has it been since we last came here?" said Ferdinand, as the towers of Garreg Mach emerged in their sight.
"Two years. Or three? We haven't visited since the war with Agartha started," said Edelgard. "I hope the castellan maintained it well... though it no longer had the past importance as the center of faith, it is a place that stores much good memories."
"I paid a visit just half a year ago, to see Linhardt and Professor Hanneman," said Byleth. "It is properly maintained. And hasn't changed much."
The imperial progression was riding through the lush green woods toward the monestary, where the spring competition would be held. Although Edelgard claimed publically that she chose this place out of respect for faith, Ferdinand knew better. It was a prelude to a potential change of the imperial capital; Enbarr might be the ancient seat of House Hresvelg, but now that the empire had resumed its former size, a capital located that south was apparently no longer suitable. There were implications about Edelgard's recent actions and words, that she intended to change the capital of the empire into Garreg Mach, so that she could govern the empire from a strategic position. Holding the competition here provided her with a reason to survey the place thoroughly.
"I almost forget how gigantic the monestary is," said Byleth. "Are you sure it is a good choice to let me host the competition, Ferdinand? I don't have much experience in this."
"Dont worry, professor, I'll assist you at every process," Ferdinand smiled. "And... well, I was going to say 'so will Hubert', but apparently he's too occupied recently to be of help, so it's just you and me."
"Is that so?" Hubert quirked a brow. "On what basis do you make such a claim? I have a right to be our professor's assistant as much as you do, Ferdinand."
"Haven't you dedicated yourself into that poem of yours completely? I know what you're doing every night after you quit the office, Hubert, you aren't that discreet on this as you think you are."
Hubert avoided Ferdinand's gaze. "I can make the time if necessary. Besides, I'm almost finished."
"I can still hardly believe that you're participating, Hubert," said Edelgard. "Do you have to stay anonymous? I must say that I'm very curious about your poetry."
"...Is that an order?"
"No, of course not! Do whatever you like, it's your choice," Edelgard explained. "I'm not pushing you. Still curious, though."
"Can you at least tell us what it is about?" Byleth asked.
This time, both Hubert and Ferdinand avoided their professor's eyes. Hubert opened his mouth as if obligated to say something, but closing it out of fear of letting anything slip.
"Well, well, such secrecy," Byleth pushed them no further. "I'd certainly do bets on this back in my mercenary days, but school life has cured me of my gambling habits."
"Indeed, I will not encourage gambling," Edelgard nodded, yet curiosity still shimmered in her eyes. "But maybe... we do not have to bet with anything? Just a small game to guess which poem is Hubert's, harmless."
"You shouldn't make exceptions, Your Majesty," said Hubert, meekly.
"I'm in!" Ferdinand raised a hand and said, partly out of sheer interest, and partly because he wanted to see that blush on Hubert's cheek go deeper. "He's been keeping the details from me ever since the day he told me he'll participate, and at least I'll make guessing a little funnier."
"It's settled then!" Edelgard proclaimed happily, and Hubert eyed Ferdinand in mixed threat and timidness, which Ferdinand himself only accepted willingly like a sweetheart's rebuke.
They spent a few days to settle down, and Ferdinand and Byleth established a reception in the cathedral to collect and arrange the poems. Ferdinand had done his best to watch out for the appearance of Hubert, but for some reason he never got to catch him handling in his poem no matter how hard he tried; he could hardly believe that Hubert would entrust this task to another, but perhaps it's meaningless for someone like him to dig too deep into the Vestra ways to begin with.
When everything was finished and all there's left to do was to wait for the scholars to agree upon a champion, Ferdinand and Hubert took their time to visit every part of the monestary. The spring semester had just begun in the Officers Academy, welcoming a new wave of freshmen from all parts of Fódlan, noble and common alike, and even some international students from Almyra and Brigid. Together at night when the students had retired to their quarters, Ferdinand and Hubert roamed the flower dusted lawns and gardens, the labyrinthine corridors and the many great halls. It was quiet here at night even with such an influx of people, and the only sounds audible were their soft footsteps on the ancient stones; the echoes of those sounds as they bounced off the sturdy walls were like memories themselves whispering the past stories into their ears, about all the books they read and the trainings they received and the entertainment they shared.
"I remember," said Ferdinand. "That my father had sent me here to study with great reluctance. He had wanted me to remain in Enbarr, or Aegir, to get me familiar with the other lords and win as much support as possible. His sole reason for sending me here is because Edelgard was here."
"I heard that Duke Aegir wanted you to court Lady Edelgard," said Hubert. "He had wished a marriage between you and her, and secure his position and your bright future."
"He also commanded me to make a friend of you, and stay away from Linhardt and Caspar. I didn't understand him back then, but now his purpose was obvious. He knew Count Hevring and Count Bergliez was on Edelgard's side."
"And you promptly disobeyed all those orders."
"Indeed. I never gave Edelgard flowers, never avoided Linhardt or Caspar, and always bickered with you whenever you appear in my sight. I had no idea how rebellious I could be before I left home."
"We've managed to secure our bright futures without being obedient sons."
"And formed genuine friendships without using their ways. Do you know that thing between me and Bernadetta?"
"Of course I do. You two were once engaged."
"We both agreed that if it actually came to pass, neither of us would be happy for it. I suppose the same goes for you and me," Ferdinand couldn't help but feel his lips curling upward. "You once told me that sincerity was my only advantage compared to Edelgard. If I had been what my father wanted me to be instead of myself, perhaps I'd never hear those words from your mouth, or even dream of having you write a poem to praise me. Isn't it strange, that it was our bickerings that brought us here today?"
"Here?" Hubert said in a faint murmur. "And what is, pray tell, here?"
They halted their steps in sync, finding themselves in the garden near the Knights Hall, where they first exchanged gifts of coffee and tea and shared their first afternoon tea together. Ferdinand set his eyes on the small pavillion, and was at a loss for words. What is here? Here is the fact that they now almost always come in pairs when mentioned, the two jewels of the empire. Here is the brooches they wore at the same spot in between their collarbones. Here is that after years of war and busy work, they finally had some of their private time together, and Ferdinand's heart sung for it.
Despite everything, Ferdinand found none of those descriptions suitable -- enough -- to represent a single here. Almost unconsciously he changed the topic, though in a stiff attempt.
"I've yet to decide on my bet," he said quietly. "It's hard to guess which poem is yours. Nevertheless, I had several in mind."
"Which ones?" Hubert asked, not pressing on the former subject.
The truth was, Ferdinand didn't have several in mind; he only had one. But the possibility of that one being Hubert's was too dreamy for him to even consider real, which made him resist and welcome the idea at the same time. To bet on that one was a far too personal choice, closely linked with the deepest of his fantasies. So all Ferdinand said was, "None of them are reliable guesses. I think I'll just quit the game, it's probably too early for me."
"Is that so," Hubert replied, his gaze downcast.
Ferdinand stared at his shadowy profile, tracing every line and angle with his eyes. "When this is over... will you reveal the truth? Will you let me know which one is yours?"
Hubert's jaw clenched a little. "Perhaps."
It wasn't the first time Hubert spoke to him in ambiguity, but somehow this time there was a fire that burned in Ferdinand's chest. Something akin to anger but not anger, a strange sort of passion. He found courage from an unknown source and stepped closer, his chest almost brushing at Hubert's shoulder, and said lowly into his ear. "Yes, you will."
"Wha..."
"What's the meaning of all this, if I can't even know the truth? Didn't you write it for me, and me alone?"
"Ferdinand..."
"Promise me," Ferdinand's voice dropped to a whisper. "Promise me that you'll tell me. Say it, Hubert, say it."
"Yes," Hubert gasped. "I promise."
Neither of them knew how to continue after that, so they just stood there transfixed and silent, until the evening dew started to weight down their capes. Ferdinand wanted to put a hand on Hubert's shoulder, but somehow he knew if he did, something inevitable would happen; what something he couldn't say. He clenched his fingers. "We should go."
That night, Ferdinand dreamed. He dreamed of running through a green forest naked, pursued by a tide of greedy, fiery sea; he ran and ran, deeper into the darkness of the forest, guided by a golden light that reminded him of his teacher's divine sword. At some point he lost the consuming tide, and came to a clearing, where a solemn statue of a Saint overlooked a pond as black as ink. He paid homage to the Saint, and bent down to drink from the pond, quenching his thirst; the first taste was bitter, but the liquid was warm, so he swallowed eagerly nonetheless, and as the cold in his veins was expelled, there was also a lingering sweetness of his favorite tea left in his throat, seeping deeper into his heart. His dream ended when he gave in to desire and dived into the pond.
He woke in his bed next morning with only remnants of that dream left in his memory, but the strong sense of shame and desire still had him panting and heat pooling between his thighs. He trailed his hand downward, hesitated a moment before proceeding, and took himself in hand.
He thought of last night as he stroke himself. Of him pressing on instead of backing off, until Hubert's spine hit the stone table in the pavillion. Of him hooking his hands under Hubert's thighs and lifting him onto the table, tracing his lips through dark hairline as his hands peeled off the layers beneath the dark cape, until Hubert was bare and pale and shivering against him. The rest of his fantasy were nothing but blurry images of rutting, due to his lack of experience, but it was enough to topple Ferdinand over the edge as he bit his lips and thrusted into his hand, eyes tightly shut in bliss.
When he came to the realization of what he had done and who he thought about as he did it, he buried himself in bed for a few more minutes in mixed shame and sweetness. But it was hardly surprising for him; after everything they've done, they've been through, it felt only natural that eventually they reached here.
Here, again. As if that one word explained all, and stranger still, it did. What things four letter words can do.
By the time Ferdinand summoned the courage to leave his room, the scholars had already finished their announcement of the prize winners. He made his way into the cathedral with great difficulty, with all the scholars swarming out of the gate, and approached Byleth who were arranging all the documents at the table.
"Morning, professor!" he said the moment before he realized that it was almost noon already. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry I'm late..."
"It's alright, Ferdinand. You've been busy all these days, you deserve some rest."
"How did it go?"
"Quite smoothly, in fact. I suppose my experience of giving lectures also applies to opening speeches."
"Which one's the champion?"
"Which one do you think?" she smiled.
Her subtle expression led him to think the impossible. "No way."
"Yes, it's the one. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day. I hope there's a shorter title for it... but I guess this is good enough."
"But... that one's handed in anonymously. No one will come and collect the prize."
"It's a pity, but there's nothing we can do if he or she doesn't show up by their own volition. Those scholars you just saw, they were just leaving for the Cardinal's Room for a meeting, to discuss the possible identity of the poet."
"Sounds like they like the poem."
"Of course, or it wouldn't be the winning one. It is beautiful, indeed. Sweet, sweet love."
Ferdinand could hardly believe it. Truth was, he never really thought about the possibility of Hubert's poem winning -- not that it's concrete that this one's his -- they weren't taught to be poets, after all. But then the possibilities were there, due to fact that they're well-educated... Ferdinand had to sit down in a chair to steady himself from the swirl of thoughts.
"Professor..." almost instinctively, he reached out to Byleth in his confusion and uncertainty, as he's always done back in his school days. "Which one... do you bet on?"
"Hubert's poem? Haven't decided yet; it's quite hard because I don't know what he wrote about. But my guess is that he wrote something like an ode to Edelgard's deeds, so I'm limiting my search to that range. What do you think?"
It's really a reasonable assumption that Hubert would write something for Edelgard, but Ferdinand couldn't help but feel a pang of petty jealousy. He bit his lower lip and lowered his head. "In fact... professor."
"Yes?"
"I... I know what he wrote about."
"Oh. How? He told you?"
"Not really. It's my suggestion in the first place... well, more like a challenge," he couldn't stop confessing his worries to his professor once he started. "His poem is about... praises. For me."
"For you?"
"...Yes." He felt like he could dig a pit in the floor and bury himself in it.
"Hmmm... not really that surprising, actually," Byleth hummed, and gave him a look from the corner of her eyes. "Praises, you say? Is this praise... what I think it is?"
Ferdinand probably wouldn't understand her before last night, but now he only nodded to his professor with hot cheeks like a schoolboy.
"So you two are..."
"Not yet."
"Ah, I see," Byleth put down the papers and sat beside him. "What's your plan then?"
"I'm... really not sure. I didn't realize my feelings until recently."
"Ha," Byleth chuckled softly. "Will it surprise you that many others have realized it long before you?"
Ferdinand's face burned. "I... I suppose that's possible..."
"It's obvious to me even before the war ended. Half of the things El said... complained to me these months is how you two are in a such a relationship that makes her jealous. I don't even know where to start with Dorothea's gossips."
Ferdinand gripped the fabric of his trousers and let out a long sigh. "So... what do I do?"
"What do you do? Well, if you really need me to say it out loud for you: you tell him what you feel, as you should after you've realized it."
"But... but..."
"But what? Do you doubt that your feelings aren't reciprocated?"
Strangely... not strangely, perhaps, but his answer was no. He recalled Hubert's embrace when they met in Duscur, the soft sigh into his hair. He recalled last night, when Hubert gasped out his promise in the quiet night, the slight tremor in his voice and his shoulders. No, it was other things that concerned him.
"He and I... we do not belong to ourselves. Or each other. We're both part of something greater; this empire, or Edelgard's ideal, the future we all picture in our heads and strive to make it come true. When it comes to choosing... we always choose duty. Always will. Because it's duty that brought us here in the first place. So I wonder if... if it's meaningless to go any further. He'll never be mine, and I... I..."
Not strangely at all, he couldn't say the words "I'll never be his," because the truth was the exact opposite. He was Hubert's, through and through, in ways both speakable and unspeakable. Had been for quite some time.
"Imagine," said Byleth, her voice calm as still water. "Imagine that he's given to another, because of his duty. Imagine you're forced to be with someone other than him, because of your duty."
Bitter rage burned in Ferdinand's chest even before he started picturing the scenes. The mere thought of someone else having the right -- the chance, the time -- to be at Hubert's side, talk to him and draw near to him and touch him, or worse yet, share his bed... the notion was like a fist around Ferdinand's heart that almost took away his breaths. He couldn't even start to think about having a stranger replacing Hubert's position at his own side.
"What would you do," Byleth asked softly. "Should that happen?"
"I..."
"You wouldn't let it."
"I will not let it," he said through his teeth.
"Then go to him, before it actually happens," Byleth urged. "Because, as you just said, you don't belong to yourselves, and this could be more than just imagination... that is, if you do not act immediately and lose the chance."
Ferdinand let out a shaky breath. When he stood up, he felt a lightness as if he's standing on clouds. "Thank you, professor," he said, though he didn't really know what he's thanking her for.
Byleth smiled. "You're welcome, Ferdinand."
He strode out of the Cathedral and returned to his own chamber, took a thorough bath that had his hair and skin rich with the scent of bergamot, and dressed himself in a simple dark red velvet shirt and black trousers. Almost deliberately, he left the top three of the shirt buttons open. Then, and only then, did he went out once more in search of Hubert.
Ferdinand found him in the least expected places of all. It was dusk -- did he really take that long to dress himself up for Hubert? -- and the man was standing outside the greenhouse, gazing down at the blooming roses. He didn't notice Ferdinand until he was six steps away, which was even more unexpected considering Hubert's sense of alarm. He drew a quick sharp breath when he saw Ferdinand, his shoulders shuddering almost like a recoil, his green eyes fleeting and uncertain.
"Ferdinand," he greeted in feigned calmness. "What brings you here?"
"You."
More cracks appeared on the ice, and Ferdinand wanted to trace his fingers along the cracks, dig his nails inside and reach for the core.
"Oh... I suppose so," Hubert clasped his hands together, brows slightly furrowed as if looking for an explanation for Ferdinand's answer. "It's almost dinner time."
"Yes, and I'm famished. Did you watch the award ceremony this morning?"
"Apologies, but, no. I was... occupied by a brief introspection."
Though strange, the words had a certain frankness in it that sped up Ferdinand's heartbeat. "Was you? So was I."
A subtle smile tugged at the corner of Hubert's lips. "What a coincidence."
"Do you mind if we take a little walk, Hubert?"
"I thought you're famished."
"Well, I never said it's for food."
He was hardly as subtle as Ferdinand wished himself to be, and Hubert lowered his eyes. "If you say so."
A sudden panic gripped Ferdinand's heart as they strolled down the lawn in front of the dormitory. Was he being too straightforward? He was so confident that his feelings were reciprocated, but it didn't change the fact that Hubert never confessed it himself. Was his sudden change of attitude looking a little too suspicious? A thousand doubts swirled in Ferdinand's head, but there was no turning back and he would not turn back. As his professor just reminded him, it would be too late if he didn't seize his chance, like the many times before.
"Have you heard which poem was the champion for spring?" asked Ferdinand.
"No, I haven't."
"Really? It's a rare thing to hear from you, that you don't know something that happened so recently and so close to you."
"I am not ominscient, Ferdinand. And there are levels of importance among the things I should know."
"I suppose I'll be the answerer this time. It's called Shall I compare thee to a summer's day."
A pause from Hubert. "Hmmm, strangely long title. Who's the poet, may I ask?"
"It's handed in anonymously."
"A pity, that no one will come to claim the prize."
"Everyone's guessing who the poet is. I bet the topic will be popular in all of Fódlan for some months, or even years. The first anonymous champion of the Golden Nightingale Cup."
Hubert quirked a brow and crossed his arms. "Golden Nightingale Cup?"
"Professor Byleth proposed the name a few days ago. I find it quite suitable; much better than the National Competition of Literature."
"I think it's not official enough. There should be at least some stateliness in the name of a competition held by the imperial household."
"Well, haven't you forgotten that Edelgard wants it to be a total civil thing one day? Making the name less formal is a good start."
"In that sense I must agree with you."
They've come to the same place where they stood last night, except this time they were standing inside the pavillion, shielded by the labyrinth of green from sight. Dinner time was over, and the students were all leaving for the academy to do their self-studying, so they were alone in this serenity. On the horizon, the last rays of the sun intertwined with the dark nighttime sky as if locked in a sensual embrace.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day," said Ferdinand. "Is it you, Hubert?"
"Pardon me?" Hubert didn't sound as surprising as he should be.
"I said," Ferdinand turned to face him, looking straight into his eyes while Hubert made a weak attempt to avoid his. "Is this poem the praise you said you'd write for me?"
Hubert gave no answer, and that was answer enough. In his heart, Ferdinand drew a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"Come to think of it, I change my mind," he said. "I don't want you to write your praises for me in letters anymore."
"Then what would you have me do?"
"I want to hear you say it, out loud to my face."
"You said it makes you embarrassed."
"My feelings have changed."
"I'm not a man of sweet and flowery words," Hubert said while looking at Ferdinand's mouth. "It took me much pondering to finish that poem."
"Doesn't matter," Ferdinand took a step forward, relishing in Hubert's breath on his face. "In that case I'll help you say it."
He enveloped Hubert with an arm in a slow but determined motion, giving Hubert abundant time to back away or resist. When Hubert did neither such things, Ferdinand pressed their torsos together, his arms wound tightly around Hubert's shoulders and waist. Hubert's hands were hovering at Ferdinand's side, hesitant to put them on him.
"What's wrong?" Ferdinand pressed his forehead to Hubert's temple and whispered into his ear, literally. "You've held me before."
Hubert let out a trembling chuckle, but still his hands were stiff, so Ferdinand decided to give a push. He pressed a feather-light kiss to Hubert's earlobe, breathing his hot breaths on that sensitive flesh, and almost immediately Hubert's knees shivered, and he clasped onto Ferdinand's back as if steadying himself lest his legs give out. Ferdinand couldn't help but laughed softly, shifting himself until their foreheads were pressed together, and then, only then, did he claim Hubert's lips.
The kiss was neither passionate or desperate, but slow and reassuring, more like a final confirmation of their bond after all these years. Ferdinand pressed on until Hubert relented and parted his lips with a sigh, felt the warm tip of Hubert's tongue and simply stayed there, taking in the bitter taste and the absolutely mesmerizing proximity. Ferdinand didn't know how long they remained there, but when he withdrew it was to prevent his heart from bursting, and they rested their heads in each other's napes in sync, hiding their deep blush despite what they've already done.
"How do you plan... to help me say my praises?" whispered Hubert, a little short of breath.
"How? Why, you just said it exactly in the way I prefer," Ferdinand whispered back, and gave a nibble on Hubert's lobe that drew another gasp from him. "There, just like that."
Hubert's breaths calmed down, and he slightly withdrew to look straight into Ferdinand's eyes with full seriousness.
"Ferdinand."
"Yes?"
"Is this what you... no, is this a wise choice?"
Ferdinand what he meant by those words. It was meaningless to ask "is this what you want" at this point, because both of them knew well in their hearts that they do want this, ardently. They've known this longer than they realized it, and the only question worth asking was whether or not they should make the move, despite all their heavy burdens and duties that reduced their simple selves into little or nothing.
"A wise choice? Oh, I do think it's a wise choice, Hubert. There's no other choice for me."
"Yes, there is. There are."
"No," a sudden tightness seized Ferdinand's heart, and he kissed Hubert hard and desperate to soothe that pain. "No, there isn't."
Hubert responded with equal fervor, working his fingers into Ferdinand's hair. "If you don't back away while you still can," he said between their kisses. "I might never let you leave."
Ferdinand chuckled, pressing his lips and tongue on Hubert's throat. "And now you make it even more impossible to resist. You're truly remarkable, Hubert."
Hubert failed to hold back a small moan when Ferdinand's lips assaulted his Adam's apple. His shoulders were stiff with such a vulnerable spot being intruded, but he made no move to push Ferdinand away. The level of trust was intoxicating, and Ferdinand had to take a second to catch his breath from the heavy sweetness in his heart. "Here I am, still," he panted. "I'm yours."
Long fingers gripped his hair, and Hubert tipped Ferdinand's head up to meet his eyes. "Will it be too fast if I take you to my quarters?" he asked in a low voice, eyes dark with desire.
Ferdinand felt the burn all the way from his hairline to his neck. "Well... a little, I guess, but I want it. I said, I'm yours now."
"Then I'm yours too," Hubert took his hand. "Come."
Ferdinand hardly remember how they got to Hubert's room, because he was too focused on the blushing tip of Hubert's ear. When Hubert shut and locked the door, Ferdinand approached him from behind and stripped off his cape and jacket, leaving them hanging on the chair carelessly in a not very noble manner. Hubert turned around and slowly pushed him towards the bed, unbuttoning his shirt in the process, leaving Ferdinand topless when he dropped down on the sheets.
"Thou art more lovely and more temperate," Hubert murmured as he crawled on top of him, pressing a lewd kiss to a nipple that sent a shock down Ferdinand's spine. "You're more perfect than I've ever imagined."
"So you've thought about me too?" Ferdinand asked, undoing more of their clothes as Hubert tasted him. "When did you realize...?"
"Since I started playing the poet," Hubert trailed down to his abdomen. "I suppose it's an inspirational experience."
That reminded Ferdinand of something. "Have you done this before?"
Hubert lifted his eyes and averted them swiftly. "Have you?"
"Never with a man. You didn't answer me."
"I've... ever only used it as a tool," shame seeped into his words.
"I see," Ferdinand cupped his cheek with a hand. "Then lead me. Have me however you like, and I will follow suit, repay you with the same, or as many folds as you want."
Hubert surged up to kiss him. "You'll be the end of me someday."
Ferdinand laughed before dragging Hubert into an embrace, bare and hot just like in his dream. "I love you too."
For some reason, they only managed to leave the room until next sunrise. Well, not "some" reason, because the reason was obvious, but Ferdinand was still quite astonished how much ideas and longings they've kept hidden in their dirty minds over the years of pining. Several times they promised they would save certain things for later, and every time they did it right away. When they pushed open the door to greet the first fresh air they breathed in hours without smelling the musk of sex, Ferdinand was still thinking about which position they tried was his favorite. Turned out he couldn't really decide on a choice, because he liked them all when he's doing it with Hubert.
The scholars were exhausted after a whole night of discussion and retired to their rooms, and the Cardinal's Room was empty, with most papers and documents left on the tables. Ferdinand and Hubert sneaked inside when no one was looking, and went over the list of names those scholars came up with and the reasons they presented.
"Ha! Not a single one gets it right," Hubert scoffed. "Incompetent, these scholars are."
"Don't be so harsh on them, you know it's meant to be our little secret."
"You said it'd be the popular topic of the continent for quite some time. I'm starting to think that you might be right."
"Well, that depends on you," Ferdinand smiled mischievously. "Do you want to leave them in the dark, or will you leave a hint?"
Hubert crossed the table to carress his hair. "I'm not particularly interested in making myself more popular; unbeneficial to work. But I want them to know it's written for you."
"Wouldn't it be the same? Soon the world will know who my love is."
The slow carresses paused. "You intend... to make this public?"
"Make this public? Goddess Hubert, I... oh, I suppose I should make it clearer," Ferdinand stood from his seat. "Yes, I do intend to make it public. In the ultimate sense."
Hubert's eyes widened. "Ferdinand... You can't possibly mean..."
"Why not? Do you think I'll let the chance slip again?" Ferdinand bent down to kiss Hubert's hand. "I wish to marry you, if you would have me."
Hubert took a sharp inhale, as if those gentle words struck him like a hammer. "If I would have you?" he laughed. "You speak as if I'm not yours already."
"It's a yes, then?"
Hubert picked up a pen, flipping the name list to the blank space at the back. "I suppose I'll leave that hint after all."
"Don't avoid the question," Ferdinand mouthed at his neck while Hubert scribbled on the paper. "Say it."
"For..." Hubert wrote, "my... beloved..." a pause, "fair youth."
"Fair youth? Surely you don't consider me a child!" Ferdinand exclaimed. "Or is it that you want to sign 'from the Dark Lady'?"
"Shut up, Ferdinand."
"Come to think of it, it's a great allusion to The Hurricane. You should do it; makes it kinky."
"Yes, I will."
"You will?" Ferdinand startled. "Sign 'from the Dark Lady'? I mean... I was just jok..."
"I'm answering to your previous question."