Chapter Text
Hubert hefts the dagger as he inspects it, sharp eyes closely monitoring every groove and edge. The blade is finely honed, with grooves along the sides to lace it with poison, and the sheath is leather, with the Vestra family crest-a viper with nightshade flowers curling around its' body-inlaid in gold. It's a family heirloom, and the only thing he intends to take from this blasted place. He never liked this drafty, old manor in the first place; it can burn, for all he cares.
They will ask him why, he's sure of it. Why he killed his own father. Why he stuck by Edelgard's side, knowing the things she'd done. Why he cast aside his own family for the sake of someone else's ideals.
They would not know why, for they had not sworn the sacred oath that he had.
The first time he held the dagger, he was but a boy. Holding his father's hand, he shuffled forward, ceremonial robes of dark green and gold puddling around his feet. His father had given him the knife, telling him "This is your duty, son." before gently nudging him into the grand hall. An assortment of nobles and officials watched as he carefully made his way across the stage, whispering a silent prayer to the Goddess that he would not trip over his own feet. There, at the center of the dais, stood Ionius and Edelgard. She was small even before the experiments slighted her frame, the diadem on her head slipping down every once and a while. The Emperor gently replaced it before similarly nudging his daughter towards Hubert. He'd bowed at her approach, before gingerly unsheathing the dagger and reciting the oath.
"I, Hubert von Vestra, pledge myself to the service of Her Highness, Imperial Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg, just as my father has, and his father before him, and his before him. I am the talons of the imperial eagle, bound to cut down her enemies. I am the wings of the imperial eagle, bound to protect her always. I am the eyes of the imperial eagle, bound to keep vigil over her lands. I will not waver, I will not stray, and so help me, if I ever turn this dagger against Her Highness, may the holy steel pierce me through."
Having said his piece, he held the edge against his palm. His fingers shook; would he be able to do this?
Her pale fingers closed over his, and quickly swiped the blade across his pale hand. A line of crimson welled up across his palm as she stepped back and he sheathed the dagger, now marked with his blood. Later, after the ceremony was over, he'd clutched her hand and knelt, thanking her over and over. His father would have gone mad if he'd embarrassed the Vestras, he'd thought. Father was always going on and on about devotion and loyalty, about how his life was the Imperial family's to give or take as they wished.
His father had a duty. He had a duty. Since the beginning of the Empire, the Vestra had sworn themselves to the Imperial family. They had no lands, no holdings, nothing outside of this manor on the palace grounds and a spot beside the Emperor. Without His Majesty, his father was nothing.
Yet his father had betrayed them anyway.
He'd thrown his lot in with Aegir and the others, even opening the palace gates and sabotaging their defenses from within to allow the Insurrection troops to storm the palace. He and his lady had clutched each other close that dreadful day, back when her hair was still the color of coffee with just a touch too much cream. The screams of the servants as they were murdered, the shouts of the loyalist holdouts falling, one by one. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air. He and Edelgard had managed to sneak out to the palace gardens, where her uncle, Lord Arundel, waited. His eyes were full of worry when he saw his niece, pale-faced and shaken, but he smiled when she ran to him, throwing her thin arms around his waist. "Come, my darling. Your mother-we must reunite you, and you can live with her in the Kingdom until this all is over. You have a step-brother, you know, and I'm sure he'd love to meet you."
Edelgard had looked up, sniffling. "Can Hubert come?" Arundel looked at him, then at the ground. "I'm afraid he can't. Aegir and the others will already be trying to catch us, sweet. Marquis Vestra would be worried sick if his only son went missing." Edelgard turned her head, deep purple eyes gazing forlornly at him, before she broke from his grasp to hug Hubert. As always, he was impressed by both her forwardness and her surprising strength. "My lady, I'm sure we'll meet again. Don't worry about me-I'll be okay." She smiled and stepped into the waiting carriage, set to whisk her and her uncle across the border into Faerghus.
He'd been sad, of course, but also relieved as he watched them go. By the time the troops reached the garden, the Imperial princess was gone, and only he remained, clutching the dagger. Father had rushed forward, clutching him by the shoulders. "Hubert, what have you done!" He'd looked up at his father, and coldly stated the oath he'd taken years before.
"I, Hubert von Vestra, pledge myself to the service of Her Highness, Imperial Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg, just as my father has, and his father before him, and his-"
The Marquis slapped him. "Stupid boy. Damn me if I didn't drill that stubborn loyalty into you." He'd cried out as his father directed the servants to drag him back to the manor, to lock him in his room. Father kept it barren, on purpose, so he could banish Hubert there when he displeased him. That had been his longest stay yet-months on end. He'd spent most of it trying to understand. He'd done his duty. He'd protected Edelgard. She was safe from the usurpers. So why was he angry?
He was about to find out, as he rapped his knuckles on the door to his father's study, dagger hidden behind his back.
"Enter." His father's voice was thin and reedy, worn after a couple of months on house arrest. Hubert pushed open the dark oak-paneled door to reveal the Marquis' gaunt form, cape hanging loosely off his frame. His hair, once a dark, mossy green like Hubert's own, was now shot through with streaks of white. Hubert felt a slight pang of sympathy for him, quickly squashed by countless childhood memories of his father's venomous words or disapproving gaze.
"I suppose you've come to kill me. The new Emperor wishes to clean house, and the Vestra, naturally, are first in line."
"Oh, the Aegirs and the rest are soon to come. This is a personal matter." Hubert keeps the dagger hidden as he speaks. He's unsure whether or not the elder Vestra would try and fight back, and his father was a decent mage. "Before we get this...unpleasantness...over with, tell me something." His father is silent and still, so he continues. "Why did you betray the Empire?"
The Marquis stiffens. "I did not betray them."
"You were supposed to protect the Imperial family. Instead, you handed them over to those-those demons! It is because of you that Edelgard is the way she is! How can you justify the torture and murder of her siblings? How did you intend to explain this to her?" Hubert's voice rose with every syllable, shaking visibly. "Everything you taught me was in service of the royal family! You drilled it into my head, over and over, that I was their right hand, their shield and sword. You treated me like a weapon, not a child! How can you possibly justify this?"
The Marquis turned to face him. A subtle pain passed over his face before he spoke. "Ionius was weak and impotent. Adrestia needed a new ruler, a strong one, with strong ideals and power to match. They promised us a powerful heir. They did not tell us how they would go about doing so. I groomed you to be Edelgard's right hand because I knew she would be the one to rule. She was not the firstborn, but there was a strength within her that none of her siblings could match. And when she escaped....I worried they might take you instead, my son. If they had inflicted these horrors upon you.....By the time I learned what the others had planned, all I could do was mitigate the damage. Believe me when I say I was deceived. Believe me when I say all I did, to you and to her....it was for Adrestia. For the future."
Hubert stood, silently trying to process what his father had said. It was the closest thing to "I love you" or "I'm sorry" that he'd ever heard from him. His father spread his hands out before him, in a gesture of both placation and surrender. "Do what you must."
Hubert's father swore an oath, that if he ever betrayed the Imperial family, he would die by the holy steel he had given Hubert.
This was the thought Hubert kept in his head, turning it over like a prized stone, as he plunged the dagger into the Marquis' heart.
This is the thought that resurfaces now, as he turns the dagger over in his hands, five long years of war later. The question from Edelgard rings like church bells in his ears as he studies the dried blood staining the blade. He hasn't used it since.
"My father taught me that my life was not my own. The Empire taught me that it was yours. Your Majesty proved that you would use it well. That is why I stood by you, even when my father did-could not." He replaces the dagger in the sheath, and turns to his liege, who smiles faintly, the same strength his father once praised glowing in her eyes.