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The door creaked and a shadow moved into the cell. Ferdinand didn't have the strength to raise his head to look at who was next. He couldn't feel his hands anymore. He couldn't feel the blood running down his arms from the manacles around his wrists. It was easy to not notice individual pain when existence was awash in it.

Maybe they've finally realized I'm useless to them. He was too weak to smile at the thought. I will give them no information and there will be no offer for my release. They will get nothing - save maybe satisfaction at watching me die.

The shadow was silent as it crossed the cell and knelt down in front of Ferdinand. He didn’t bother to brace himself for the pain. It was inevitable and the tension never helped. A black leather glove clad hand grasped his chin and lifted his head, exposing bruised skin behind curtains of blood matted golden hair. Ferdinand forced his eyes to focus on the shadow. His jaw fell open as recognition dawned and the name slipped between chapped lips. "Hubert?"

Hubert Von Vestra was the last person that Ferdinand would ever have expected to see in the jail cell with him. He'd imagined Hubert telling Edelgard that Ferdinand wasn't worth saving; that his foolish, braggadocious nature had finally led him to his inevitable end. That they would all be better off without him. The imaginings had stung and, to Ferdinand, felt out of character for Hubert after their afternoons spent relaxing and sipping tea together at a table in the garden. Even still, he’d repeated them, because it gave him comfort that everyone was safe and would remain that way. There would be no rescue mission where his friends could die attempting to free him. They would lose no resources in a trade. 

And yet, here Hubert was, kneeling before him in a filthy jail cell, his features twisting in pain and relief. Ferdinand could suddenly feel his hands, again, as they ached to reach out and touch Hubert's porcelain face, to convince himself that the mage was real.

Hubert cupped Ferdinand's jaw in his hand. "Ferdinand," he breathed.

"I didn't think it would actually work," Ferdinand mumbled. He could feel his own delirious smile. He'd never thought it would actually work. It had been a foolish idea to begin with, but now . . . He had to be hallucinating. 

"Quiet," Hubert said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic gentleness. He gently released Ferdinand's face, the tips of his gloved fingers sliding down Ferdinand's skin, prolonging the contact. 

Ferdinand rallied the energy to hold his own head up. He didn't think he was imagining the way Hubert looked over him, his sharp eyes carefully scanning Ferdinand's body. Any other time, the way the advisor was looking at him would have made him blush, but the agony that flashed across Hubert’s features silenced any of those thoughts. "Hubert -," he started, only to be cut off as Hubert reached for his manacles.

"I'll release you," the mage said matter-of-factly, almost mechanically. His eyes moved away from Ferdinand and focused on the manacles chaining him. The smell of burning ozone mixed with the scent of melting metal as one of the chains holding Ferdinand gave and his hand dropped. Hubert caught it; his own hands, even through the leather of his gloves, heated by dark magic. 

He swung around to get to the other chain as Ferdinand breathlessly asked, "Hubert? What - what are you - why?"

"Save your strength," Hubert commanded. The other chain broke and Ferdinand winced as his other arm was slowly lowered into his lap. Hubert's hands were on his face again, turning his head to the left, then the right. Green eyes bored into amber ones until he asked, "What did they do to you?" 

The question was so quiet and agonized that Ferdinand doubted he was meant to hear it. "You didn't answer my question."

"Can you walk?"

Ferdinand's mind worked to compensate for the abrupt subject change before he nodded. "I think so." That turned out to be incorrect. 

Hubert started to stand. His hands were gentle under Ferdinand's arms, guiding him to his feet. It didn't help as his knees buckled. He clung to Hubert, holding himself up with the assistance of the mage's arms around his back. His face pressed into Hubert's chest. Coffee and subtle spice. Dark magic and parchment. The tell tale scent that was Hubert. They mingled together and for the first time in a week, Ferdinand felt safe. 

He was about to pardon himself, to ask for forgiveness for the physical contact, but then Hubert pulled him closer, winding his arms tightly around Ferdinand's back. The paladin could assume that it was just to keep him from falling, but that wouldn’t explain the feel of Hubert’s lips in his hair. The dark mage chuckled and asked, his words muffled, "Would you like to amend your answer?"

Ferdinand couldn't. He was too distracted by the texture of Hubert's shirt. Linen, not suiting. It was cheap and the wrong material. It was the wrong cut. Ferdinand could trace Hubert beneath the clothes, could feel the rip-cord strength in the wiry mage. His hands slid across his chest, his fingertips pressing into the foreign material. "You're not wearing your normal clothes."

Huber sputtered before the words finally formed. "Excuse me?"

Ferdinand pulled on the fabric of his stolen uniform. His attention drifted to the blue cape over Hubert's shoulder. He grinned up at him, amber eyes soft within their bruised sockets. "Too much color. I'm used to a more monotone presentation from you."

Ferdinand could feel as Hubert's inhalation shuddered in his chest. His eyes locked on Hubert’s. There was something devastating in his gaze, like he couldn't believe he was there. Like he couldn't believe Ferdinand was there. The romanticism of Ferdinand's mind ran rampant as he compared the way Hubert was looking at him with the way he used to see Mercedes look at statues of The Goddess. Like something to be worshipped. The arms around him tightened.

"Hubert?" He asked.

Hubert cleared his throat and suddenly started moving. He pulled Ferdinand's arm across his shoulders and turned towards the door. "It is called a disguise."

The change was abrupt but Ferdinand allowed it. He wasn't sure what else to do with it at the moment. "It doesn't fit your aesthetic."

"It's not meant to." Hubert cursed quietly and pulled something from his belt. He didn't wait for permission before one handedly beginning to slide whatever it was over Ferdinand's head. "Put this on."

Realizing it was another shirt, Ferdinand tried to help, weakly wiggling an arm through the arm hole. Hubert propped him up against the wall so he could get the other arm through, and pulled out a rolled up hat from another pocket. It was cheap and thin, but it would hide Ferdinand's recognizable hair.

Ferdinand sniffed the shirt as he felt Hubert's hands move through his hair, fingers gently gathering the strands before expertly twisting them up and tucking them under the hat. There was no pain as he did so and Ferdinand was unable to hide the shiver that went down his spine. All the other touches to his hair the last week had been to yank on it, to use it like a leash to drag him around, anything to cause pain and remind him that he was going to die, but not before he suffered more. He wasn't sure what to do with the knowledge that all of Hubert's touches had been gentle.

"There," Hubert said, seemingly pleased with his work.

"My shirt smells like horses," Ferdinand noted. From anyone else, it would have been a complaint. From Ferdinand, it was said like it was the bright spot in his day. It reminded him of not being there, in the darkness of a prison cell. Soft sunlight. Warm fur. He's here. Asking if I have time for the war or if I will be completely devoted to my horses. Completely devoted . . .

Hubert pulled Ferdinand's arm back over his shoulder and started pulling him from the cell. There was a slight angle to his words and Ferdinand discovered its origin as he looked up and saw Hubert grinning. "I borrowed it from the stable boy."

"It seems like you've stolen a lot of clothes."

"Well, then they shouldn't just leave them lying around."

Ferdinand laughed, the sensation almost enough to bring tears to his eyes. There'd been days where he'd wondered if he'd ever laugh again. The guards beat him for so much as a whimper and there'd been no reason for something like joy. The guards. Horror dawned on him and he pulled against Hubert. "Wait. The guards. Won't they see me?"

Hubert's face was hidden behind his bangs as he answered, "They can't see you if they can't see."

"You blinded them?"

"You could say that."

"Oh," Ferdinand said, understanding the implication. A bloody path , he mused. He didn't say anything more as Hubert pulled him past the bodies stuffed into another cell and into a narrow stairwell. Ascending it was difficult and Ferdinand could feel his shallow pool of strength draining rapidly by the time they got to the top. He let Hubert take total control. 

The shoulder under his arm tensed and Hubert pressed him against a wall, peering around the corner and into the hallway before returning to him with a whispered, "It's clear." Ferdinand's consciousness ebbed as they moved, his steps getting more sluggish the further they traveled. 

He didn't know where they were. The guards and those who had captured him didn't make it a habit to bring him out of the dungeons, let alone give him a tour. The hallways were unfamiliar and seemed to stretch on forever. He felt himself sagging against the mage with each step they took.

"You there. Halt."

Hubert froze. 

Ferdinand's head lolled against his shoulder. No no no no. He wouldn't let Hubert get caught. Only one of them had to suffer. Only one of them had to die. He wouldn't let it be Hubert. His words were weak, but not as weak as his attempts to loosen Hubert's hold on him, as he whispered, "Run. Get out of here while you can."

The grip Hubert had on his hand tightened.

"What's going on?" The guard asked, moving up to stand before them.

Hubert's voice rose into a fake tone, his words clipped with a fake accent. "The stable boy was hurt. I'm taking him to the healer."

There was a moment where Ferdinand's heart beat painfully in his throat as the guard surveyed them before he nodded and said, "Very well. Carry on." They departed and turned another corner before Hubert chuckled darkly.

"What an imbecile. The infirmary is in the opposite direction."

Ferdinand raised his head by a few inches, his words hissing between teeth clenched with pain as he pressed a hand against his ribs. With every step, he could practically feel them grinding against each other. "Let us not tempt fate by insulting a guard."

Hubert bobbed his head from side to side. "You do have a point." He hoisted Ferdinand's weight higher on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ferdinand could see the sweat beginning to dot his brow beneath the hood of his mages' cloak.

For a few more minutes, Ferdinand thought they may just get away. When a bell started ringing and Hubert jolted, he knew he was wrong. "What's that?" He asked as Hubert picked up the pace.

"The alarm. They've found the bodies of the guards and your empty cell. They'll be looking for us now."

"How long until they find us?"

"You there! Stop!"

Hubert glanced at Ferdinand, his eyes slitted, as he paused to allow the guard to catch up. "Thank goodness you're here," he said, his voice altered again. "I found this stable boy in the hall. He looks injured. I was taking him to the healer. Does this have something to do with the alarm?" 

The guard circled in front of him, glancing between him and Ferdinand. "You're going the wrong direction. The infirmary is that way."

Hubert ducked his head and began to turn, dragging Ferdinand with him. "My mistake. I was turned around with the commotion. I will -."

The guard reached out, without giving any warning, and seized Hubert's hood, pulling it down off his head. His eyes went wide as he took a step back. "You're -."

Hubert didn't let the guard finish. A dagger was in his hand in a flash and he lunged out from under Ferdinand's arm. The blade went deep into the guard’s throat. The man gurgled in surprise before Hubert ripped the knife free and buried it again. There was no sound on the second strike.

Ferdinand looked up at him from his place on the ground, barely holding himself on his hands and knees. Blood coated Hubert's gloves and the blade of the dagger, which disappeared again as Hubert grabbed the body before it could fall. He dragged it over to the side of the corridor and shoved it against the wall with his foot, ruffling the curtains over it and doing a hasty but admirable job at concealing it. 

"We must hurry," he said, returning to Ferdinand and pulling him back to his feet.

Ferdinand couldn't take his eyes off the body. He'd seen Hubert kill before. He'd fought side by side with him in countless battles as he rained devastation down on their enemies. That was different than what he'd just witnessed, which was a lethal strike against someone who hadn't even had the opportunity to draw a weapon. There had been no hesitation. 

Ferdinand should have been repulsed. What he'd just witnessed was close to murder. Instead, all he could think was that Hubert had acted for him. He was cutting a bloody path, but it wasn't for Edelgard. It was for him.

"Ferdinand!" Hubert hissed, struggling with the paladin's weight. "You must stand!"

Ferdinand's knees crumpled immediately. 

"I cannot."

"What do you mean you cannot?"

"You must leave me. I cannot continue."

Fury flamed in Hubert's eyes. He yanked Ferdinand to his feet for the moment it took him to throw his arm under Ferdinand's legs and behind his back. "I thought you had grown out of speaking such nonsense."

Ferdinand gawked. "Hubert, you are placing yourself in grave danger for my sake. You must -."

"Do not lecture me on what I must or must not do, Ferdinand, especially if it includes your assessment of placing myself in grave danger. Just shut up and hold on."

Hubert wound them back through the hallways, expertly ducking into corners and doorways at the exact moment that a guard could have spotted them. 

"You know these hallways very well," Ferdinand noted after one such maneuver. His strength was retreating further from his reach. If Hubert were to put him down, Ferdinand doubted that he would be able to move at all. But Hubert didn't seem to have any intention of putting him down. His hands were tight on his back and legs and he'd pulled Ferdinand so close that the paladin could actually hear the rapid beating of the mage's heart. Some have questioned if it even does so. Ferdinand smiled deliriously at the proof he now possessed.

"I studied them for days before setting out to rescue you." He did a double take as Ferdinand grinned up at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. It's just . . . Nothing."

Hubert frowned. His eyes shifted across Ferdinand's face, like he was searching for something. Ferdinand was fixated by the rapid movement of his jade eyes until Hubert pulled him closer, lifting him slightly to press his cheek to Ferdinand's forehead. Hubert's skin was like a cool breeze on a sunburn and goddess forgive him for the small sound Ferdinand made in the back of his throat as he tried to press closer. 

"You're obviously growing more idiotic with fever."

Ferdinand let his forehead rest there, savoring the gentle weight of Hubert's presence. It covered him, enveloped him, different from the darkness of his cell in that it protected him. He laughed. "Maybe I am."

Hubert pulled his cheek away and Ferdinand pushed towards his neck, frowning when he only found more cloth. When Hubert spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically thin. "Just hold on. I will find a way to get you out."

"Find a way?" A thought occurred to Ferdinand in that moment and his grip on Hubert's "borrowed" coat tightened. "You did not warp? Why have we not warped?"

"I cannot," Hubert answered mechanically, his eyes scanning for more guards in front of and behind them. "Something is blocking warp magic. I must get past the gates before it will work."

"Oh, Hubert," Ferdinand breathed, his voice tinged with sorrow and gratitude. 

"Are you giving up on me, Ferdinand?" Hubert snapped. "Do you not believe I can get you out of here? Are you already digging our graves?"

"If I do, I wish it to be only mine. But no. I'm not." Ferdinand's hand crawled up Hubert's coat until his fingers found the collar. He pulled on it, latching onto it. "I trust you." 

The words were a breath and the weight fell from Hubert’s collar. Hubert’s attention jerked to Ferdinand, like the hand had pulled his chin. Anxiously, he crouched down in the shadow, laying Ferdinand's legs across his knees. He grabbed Ferdinand's jaw and turned his head, searching his face for any sign of consciousness. He found none. He didn't call out, didn't plead or say his name, didn't ask him to hold on just a little longer. At least, not vocally. 

He scooped Ferdinand back into his arms, and kept moving, slipping in and out of shadows as he moved towards one of his planned exits. The palace seemed so much larger with Ferdinand limp against his chest. He had never trained to wear armor or carry something of a similar weight - like an unconscious paladin - and it was beginning to show. His arms strained and his heart thundered in his chest. He had to pause in the shadows to regain his breath before moving again. Sneaking into places he shouldn't be - moving with the knowledge that if he got caught, it would mean certain death after painful torture - was not new to him. He'd done it many times in the name of Her Majesty, Lady Edelgard, but, for some reason, it was different at that moment. Panic threatened to choke him. It sent his heart hammering in his ears. His palms were slick inside his gloves and sweat trickled down his spine. Every few seconds, his attention was drawn from watching his surroundings to Ferdinand before he forced it away, again. That was the reason he almost missed the guards stationed around his pre-planned exit. They were huddled together and armed with swords and lances. He could hear orders being given from where he'd jerked back around the corner.

"-obably try to use a side exit rather than the front. If anyone tries to move past you, seize them."

Hubert let his head fall back against the wall, pondering his next move. With every possible scenario, though, he kept coming back to the reality of his situation. Ferdinand was injured and unconscious, he had already killed one guard who either soon would be or had already been found, and he was unable to Warp them to safety until he found the edge of the warp seal. And he already knew where it was. The front gate.

Ferdinand stirred restlessly. Without thinking, Hubert quietly shushed him, pressing his cheek once more to Ferdinand's forehead. The man settled. 

There was no other option. He wasted no more time. 

The halls flew by him as he covered them with long strides. He ducked into the shadows a few more times as guards passed, shouting orders to "search everywhere" and "leave no room unturned! They must be here somewhere!". Finally, he stepped out into a main hall and the doors were before him. Guards were clustered around and he didn't stop as he moved towards them, his steps purposeful and hurried. 

"You there!" One of the guards called as he approached. "Halt!"

"I must get him help!" He called back. Trying to move towards a gap in the guards.

"I said halt!" The gap closed and Hubert came to a stop. There were about a dozen of them in all. He knew there were more up the stairs to the throne room and even more patrolling in the hall behind him.

"The stable boy," he panted, partially in affectation and partially because he was actually beginning to feel quite exhausted from carrying Ferdinand. "I must get him help."

"What is wrong with him?" The guard asked.

"I don't know. I found him in the hallway. I fear he may have been attacked by the escapee."

"Then why are you not taking him to the infirmary?"

"I did," Hubert fabricated, "but the medic told me to take him to a woman in the town. Said he may have been poisoned."

One guard looked at another. "Poisoned, huh?" Their eyes both moved back to him. "I don't recognize your voice. Are you new?"

Hubert nodded. "I just transferred."

"From where?" 

"A fort in Galatea. Please, I fear he may be dying!"

The soldiers were closing in. Hubert wasn't an actor. He worked in the shadows. His goal was to never be seen until it was too late. His eyes narrowed beneath the hood. One of the guards started to circle around him. 

Enough .

With a twist of his wrist beneath Ferdinand's knees, a mire of Miasma rained down around him. He hunched over, blocking Ferdinand from the dark magic, and felt it fall on his back, singing his cloak but leaving him unscathed. The guards around him were not so lucky. Cries of pain and terror rang out and he bolted through the flailing bodies after the worst had passed. A hand reached out and snagged his cloak, nearly tripping him up in it. He managed to twist free, though, ducking in a way that angled the clasp and caused it to give. It tore from his shoulders and he took off, breaking away from the slowly recovering cluster of guards. 

Sunlight burned overhead as he ran down the steps, trying to be careful in his haste, but he could already hear the shouts of guards behind him, rallying or calling for reinforcements. He hit a landing in between the steps and turned as the voices got louder. Another twist of his hand and a ball of pure Miasma shot forth, striking one guard in the chest, before he followed it with a second that hit another guard in the neck. More guards moved up behind them and he cursed under his breath before turning and descending the stairs. 

There was a courtyard between them and the front gate. It wasn't too far, but the shouts were becoming louder and more numerous. 

"Take him down! Stop them!"

He was about halfway there when an arrow drove through his leg. Pain lanced through the limb, pulling a cry from his lungs as he fell. He cushioned Ferdinand against his chest, trying to lessen the jostle for him. His breaths heaved and his muscles screamed. He couldn't see the wound, but he could feel the shaft of the arrow scraping against his bones.

"Get him!"

Hubert looked towards the gate, his eyes, stinging with sweat, narrowed in determination. Hold on. Pushing himself up, he hefted Ferdinand in his arms and took shaky steps towards the gate. It's in my glove. It's in my glove. The distance shortened. 

"Take! Him! Down!" A familiar voice, one he'd not heard in years, screamed.

The force of the arrow actually turned him, driving him back into the mud. He lost his grip on Ferdinand as the arrow pierced through his back and out his right shoulder. His strength rapidly fled and he doubled over his charge, his instinct being to prevent Ferdinand's head from impacting with the ground. 

He had nothing left. Something was wrong and he couldn't draw in a breath. Hubert looked up at the gate, only a few paces away. He could hear boots on the stone path as he gasped. 

Ferdinand will die. And so will you. Her Majesty will lose both of you in one day. Because you failed. 

Hubert bit down on the inside of his cheek. He could taste blood in the back of his throat. Ferdinand was pale and unconscious in his arms. The sounds of the soldiers were getting closer. I will not fail them. 

How he got to his feet, he didn't know. One moment, he was on the ground. The next, Ferdinand was clutched under his arm, practically being dragged across the stones, and he was moving one laborious step at a time. 

An arrow pinged off the concrete beside him. Another struck the gate before him. Something lifted in the air and Hubert grinned, malicious and blood tinged. He turned, flipped his middle finger at the rushing guards and the blond lance-wielder in the blue cape, and crushed the Warp Bead in his glove. A streak of pink and they were gone.

Edelgard heard the Warp in the reception area outside the office. She turned from the Professor at the same time he turned from her and looked out the door. 

Hubert was seemingly suspended, Ferdinand under his arm, before he turned and fell backward, twisting in a way that had Ferdinand falling on his chest instead of on the hard stone floor. 

She expected him to move a second later, to grumble at Ferdinand and extricate himself from under the paladin. Initially, she was moving because he had Ferdinand. He'd succeeded, not that she ever doubted his determination, and had brought Ferdinand back to them. But as her calm steps brought her out of her office and into the Audience Chamber, she saw the blood. Too much blood. And Hubert wasn't moving.

"Hubert?" Edelgard called, her steps quickening as she neared him. She could see the arrows. There was blood beneath him, spreading across the marble floor. "Hubert!" 

Pain shadowed eyes looked up at her as she fell to her knees beside him. Relief overflowed, mixed with agony. It turned her stomach. 

Blood stained his lips. "Your Majesty," he wheezed. "Ferdinand . . . He needs help."

She would never get used to these moments. His devotion had always been unflinching. From a young age, he'd responded to pain with annoyance. She understood the feeling, she felt the same way, but only when it was her own. Anytime he returned with blood smearing his already normally pale skin, it sent a shiver down her spine. Young eyes stared back at her from the dark in the basement, blood flecking their skin. Madness took hold as the fever grew. They hadn't lasted long afterwards. 

His eyes weren't young. She couldn't honestly remember a time they had been. It didn't change her thoughts. It didn't stop her subconscious from lining him up right next to them in her nightmares. Moments like these were further reminders that her nightmares weren't coming from nowhere. She could lose him just like she'd lost them. 

Everytime, after the wound had been dressed and the blood wiped away, she renewed an oath to do her best to keep him by her side. She wasn't sure what she'd do if she was proved a liar to herself. 

"Go get Linhardt," Edelgard said to the empty air beside her as Byleth was already several steps away and running from the reception room. She turned her attention back to Hubert. Her hand cradled the crown of his head, her fingers burying in the sweat slicked hair. "What happened?"

Hubert tried to move and groaned, interrupted by a cough that splattered more blood up onto his lips. One hand was clenched in the fabric on Ferdinand's shoulder, the other was fumbling towards his chest, fisting in the material of his jacket like he meant to bow to her. "Please, forgive me . . . Your Majesty. I - I disobeyed your order."

"That much is apparent, but I'm not concerned with that now." Her fingers massaged gently at his scalp as her other hand rested lightly over his. He'd always betrayed a weird sense of peace in her presence. She suspected it had to do with success in his role as her vassal, keeping her safe and all. She hoped he was able to find that peace now. "What happened, Hubert?"

"They," he wheezed, trying to draw in a breath. She could hear it rattling in his chest. Her dress was beginning to absorb his blood. "They were b-blocking . . . Certain magic. I couldn't - I couldn't warp."

Something knocked into her heart beneath her sternum. "Are you telling me you had to escape the palace?"

His chin jerked in a short nod before he clenched his teeth. The leather of his glove creaked as he tightened his grip on Ferdinand. "He actually thought I'd leave him behind." He clenched his eyes. Something akin to disappointment twisted his features. "I couldn't. I couldn't. Your Majesty . . . Forgive me."

She knew him. She understood him, better than anyone. He wasn't asking for forgiveness for disobeying her order. No, he was asking forgiveness for something else entirely. If she wasn't so terrified of the gray color his skin was taking on or of the blood trailing from the corner of his lips, she may have felt a sense of ecstasy that he had those feelings for someone. "Hubert," she carded her fingers through his hair, "you don't need my forgiveness." His expression twisted as he groaned. "But we'll discuss this later. Where is Linhardt?"

She jolted as he started to move, pushing against her hands. His eyes were fixed on nothing, filled with a wild mania as he said, "We cannot afford to wait. Ferdinand needs help."

"Hubert, lay still." He didn't heed her words. It didn't appear that he could even hear her. "Hubert," she said, pushing authority and command into the word. "That's an ord -."

All remaining color drained from his face. He looked afraid for a moment before his eyes rolled back and he went limp. 

"Hubert?" She grabbed his head with trembling fingers. The irrational part of her was panicking. He always answered her when she called. Whether it was when she was young and had another nightmare, when they were still in the officers academy and she couldn't carry the Professor's body back to Garreg Mach alone, or when she'd been awake for 36 hours straight and practically begged him for some more tea. (He'd refused. Told her she needed to rest. Assured her that he would see the work done personally while she slept.) So why isn't he answering now? "Hubert!"

Her eyes drifted to Ferdinand. His cheek was laying on Hubert's chest, his hair falling out of a cotton cap that had been placed on his head. A disguise, perhaps. If he wasn't smeared with dirt and blood, she could have thought him sleeping. Hubert's hand was still clenched in the fabric of Ferdinand's shirt - one that had to be another part of the disguise. 

She'd watched a strange friendship blossom between them. No. Something else. Something full of soft chuckles and deep blushes. Something that had changed the way that Hubert said Ferdinand's name; from "that Aegir brat", to "Von Aegir", to "Ferdinand", to, now, " Ferdinand ", with a care and gentleness that had caught her off guard. He actually grinned when he said it.

And Ferdinand. The way he'd used to say "Hubert", like one said a profanity. Like one would call an enemy or something worse, something repulsive. Now, it was like the tinkling of a wind chime, the rustling of trees on a windy day. It was often accompanied by a chuckle, like a treat had been presented to someone. Like the greeting of a man seeing someone dear.

Their devotion to her never wavered, and, in Ferdinand's case, actually increased, but there was now also a devotion to each other. In the past couple of years, especially the past few months, she'd come to lean on it, to turn to it in moments of stress. And now, her support, her two most trusted advisors, were bleeding out on the floor, possibly dying in each other's arms, and she could not turn to them.

“Your Majesty . . . Forgive me.”

"Hubert!" She called again. She couldn't heal him. If Linhardt wasn't there soon, she would run for a vulnerary. The idea of leaving his side, of returning and finding that she was too late, kept her rooted to the floor.

"What is all the - oh shit."

Linhardt was across from her in a second, his eyes expertly tracing Ferdinand and Hubert, his hands trying to pull them apart.

"El," Byleth whispered, once more at her side.

"The Kingdom. The church. They did this." Her fear had turned to anger. What had once been a mission for the good of Fodlan was now tinged with revenge. "If they die . . ." 

Byleth's voice was equally as hard as he answered, "They will not escape us."

"Hubert, let go." Linhardt was trying to pull Ferdinand from Hubert's grasp. There was something iron clad to Hubert's grip, though. An unwillingness, even in unconsciousness, to let go.

Edelgard reached over, replaced Linhardt's hand with her own. "Hubert, release him."

Instantly, the grip slackened. Byleth helped to pull Ferdinand away while Edelgard continued to hold Hubert's hand. She could see their professor cradling his former student, holding him almost like a child. He'd pulled the filthy hat from his head and was brushing blood encrusted red hair out of his face, rubbing soothing circles into his palms. She was grateful for him, for the love he obviously had for their strike force. 

"We need to get these arrows out," Linhardt said, lowering the piece of torn coat he had raised to get a look at the gaping wound in Hubert's chest. "I'll need Manuela and we need to get them both to the infirmary."

"Then let's not waste any time." Edelgard lowered Hubert's hand to his chest and scooped him into her arms. She wore heavy armor into battle and had wielded an ax all her life. His mage physique, while not light as he was still a 6' 2" man, was manageable. 

Linhardt led the way to the infirmary. She and Byleth lowered their friends onto the beds and Byleth left again to find Manuela. Edelgard stayed.

Consciousness returned to Ferdinand slowly, in stages. First, he was aware of sounds. He could hear a low whispering. Actually, two voices whispering. One was gravely and thick, the other was soft and gentle. He couldn't focus on their words, but they both soothed him like ice on a bruise. Then, he was aware of his place, that he was lying down in a soft bed, propped up slightly on something cushioned. His fingers twitched on the sheets across his chest and he rolled his head. Everything was so soft, compared to the last week.

Awareness sliced through him and his eyes snapped open. He wasn't greeted with the sight of gray stone and peeled metal bars. His hair wasn't dangling in matted clumps in front of his face. The air around him smelled crisp and cool and sunlight stretched across the foot of his bed. He wasn't in a dungeon. He was in Garreg Mach. He knew the infirmary well enough to recognize it after only a second.

"You're awake." It wasn't a question, but more of a statement. 

He looked out of the corner of his eye, his neck slow to respond; to do the proper motion of rotating his head across the pillow to better see Lady Edelgard.

She was dressed casually, in a skirt and fine linen blouse. Her hair was done up in a white ribbon. A jacket was draped over the back of the chair she was seated in. One hand was resting atop her crossed knees, the other was on the side of the bed she was beside. He couldn't see the occupant of the bed, as there was a privacy curtain between them. 

Finished taking in all the details, he opened his mouth to speak and was greeted with a croak. 

"Here," she said, rising from her seat to stand beside his bed. Before he could object, she was holding a glass to his lips. 

Despite the fact that it felt very wrong for his Emperor to be helping him drink, he gratefully accepted the offered water. After a few swallows, she pulled it away and set the glass back within reach on the nightstand before retaking her seat. 

"Thank you," he said, his voice weak, but at least audible. 

"You've been unconscious for a few days and the fever only broke yesterday."

Something was bubbling at the back of his mind. A thought or a name - something that felt important and wrong to not be able to pull immediately. 

"Fever?"

She nodded. "Manuela said it was troubling. If he hadn't gotten you out when he did, it would have risen and destroyed your mind."

Whatever is left of it , he imagined in a fondly mocking tone. 

It slammed into him hard enough that it drove the air from his lungs. Hubert, there, in the cell with him. Pulling him past the bodies of guards, carrying him through the halls of the Palace, his cool cheek resting against Ferdinand's heated face. The smell of him, the feel of his arms, his presence, a balm against the unseen wounds Ferdinand's captors had been leaving on him.

"Hubert," he gasped, surging upright. His body screamed at the action and he couldn't stop the pained moan that tore from his throat. He doubled over, arms wrapped around his midsection, sweat gathering on his brow, but he pushed forward. "Hubert, where is he? Is he alright?"

Something shifted in Edelgard's eyes. They'd been guarded, before, and it was only at that moment that Ferdinand realized it was more so than usual. Wordlessly, she rose again from her seat and pushed on the privacy curtain, folding it back towards the wall and revealing the occupant of the other bed.

Hubert was pale, his skin almost blending into the sheets. A loose fitting cotton shirt was pulled around his shoulders, open in the front, revealing several layers of bandages wrapped around his chest. One arm was tucked tightly to his side, secured with a soft looking wrap. His hair was clean and neatly arranged, hiding one eye in typical fashion. The other eye was even more bruised looking than normal. He was slumped against a small mound of pillows, curled slightly on one side. All in all, he looked vulnerable and so unlike the man who had pulled a panicked utterance from a Palace Guard at his mere appearance.

Ferdinand was seized by a desire he'd been feeling more often in recent weeks. The desire to gather Hubert into his arms, to brush the hair from his face and replace it with kisses. To protect him from what he could, whether it be an enemy on the battlefield or a work ethic that had him collapsing in the hallway. To make sure he felt appreciated and treasured and maybe even lov-. 

"There's something I wish to talk you about."

Ferdinand lurched back from his thoughts. Edelgard was seated closer to Hubert than she was to Ferdinand. Her feet were together and her hands were folded on top of her knees. He couldn't remember seeing her in this state before. Hunched shoulders and sad eyes; she didn't look like the confident Emperor that he was used to. 

Ferdinand pushed himself up straighter, trying to give Edelgard his full attention. "If there is something I can help you with - some way I can ease your mind - you need only ask."

She smiled. "You've become very adept at reading me, Ferdinand. I consider you one of my closest friends."

Ferdinand warmed at the admittance. He'd ceased trying to compete with her like in the days of their youth. Now, he sought to support her. To hear that she saw him in such a way was affirmation that he'd succeeded. "And I see you as one of mine." 

"So I hope you will respect why I have to ask you this."

"Whatever it is, I will do my best to answer."

Her back straightened, a hand moved protectively to the side of Hubert's bed, and she asked, "What are your intentions with Hubert?"

Ferdinand was struck speechless. Her question was so direct, so unexpected, that even though he'd vowed to answer, he didn't know if he could. After a few seconds, he only managed a croaked, "What?"

"I'm not blind," she said. "I see the way you interact. The proximity you're now comfortable sharing, the way you seek out each other's opinion. Even your arguments have taken on a more civil tone. And he . . ." Her eyes shifted to Hubert. Her fingers tightened in his sheets. "He's never been as good as he believed at hiding his feelings from me." 

There were some that would balk at her words. Hubert Von Vestra having feelings? It was impossible. The Von Vestras ruled the shadows, operated in the dark. They were the hidden hand of the Emperor. They could create allies or remove enemies, but have feelings? That was not in their purview. 

Ferdinand did not balk. He knew of Hubert's feelings. Hubert buried them deep, but they were obvious to those who knew him. He wore a crocheted flower on his lapel to make Bernadetta more comfortable. He recruited the best sparring partners for Caspar. He somehow managed to procure the rarest tomes on crests for Linhardt. He loomed near Dorothea to frighten away unwanted suitors. He'd sent a man practically limping out of a meeting from the venom in his retort after the nobleman had the audacity to insult Petra's speech. Once, Ferdinand had even been shocked to watch him excuse himself before brazenly taking a sip from Edelgard's goblet. He'd grinned and announced the kind of poison within it. 

And now he'd gone behind enemy lines to rescue Ferdinand. He'd refused to leave him behind and had met the recommendation with anger.

Hubert had emotions. He had feelings. And contrary to popular belief, many of them were loving.

Ferdinand found himself the focus of Edelgard's attention again. Her force of presence pinned him to the spot. He almost felt like he needed her permission to breathe. "That is why I must know: what are your intentions?"

The whole moment felt slightly ludicrous. Lady Edelgard, Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, feared War Monger and outright enemy of the Church of Seiros, was questioning him about his relationship with her vassal. Ferdinand could laugh, except that she looked so serious. Except that Hubert had been dreadfully wounded saving his life a few days ago. Except that Ferdinand hadn't thought it would work. He'd made a wish - what he thought was his final wish - back in that cell: to see Hubert one last time.

Why had he made the wish? Why, when faced with what he thought was certain death, did he wish to see Hubert? It wasn't because he thought Hubert would be the best at getting him out. For a mission like that, Petra came to mind. She was agile and stealthy. It was no wonder the professor had pushed her to take the certification to become an assassin. 

It wasn't because Ferdinand wanted his injuries mended and his pain alleviated. Hubert was famously bad at faith magic. If he had wanted healing, Linhardt would have been his choice.

So then why had he wished for Hubert? 

Edelgard was waiting for an answer. 

And Ferdinand had one. 

So why was it so hard to say?

"He's . . ." He trailed off. The words felt thick on his tongue. His eyes wouldn't leave the form lying still in the other bed, as much as he wanted to redirect his attention to Lady Edelgard. "He's very important to me." The words were coming easier now. "I'm finding it harder and harder to imagine my life without him."

She nodded, her expression softening. "Then you should know two things. Firstly, be aware that when he gives his loyalty, he gives it completely. He will do anything for you. He will break any code, commit any atrocity, in your name. His -." She bit back the word. There was a moment of debate in her before she nodded and continued, "His love is absolute."

Ferdinand drank in every word. Simultaneously, he wasn't sure why she was telling him and he understood completely why it was important. 

"He disobeyed my order to save you."

His mind ground to a halt. 

"I told him that we couldn't risk it. And I'm sorry, but it was a decision I was forced to make." She grinned fondly as her tone lifted and she relayed, "He told me he understood that the mission was too dangerous to risk a full squad on and that it would be near impossible to free you from Dimitri's clutches with an assault on the stronghold." 

So that's where he'd been.

"A few days later, I received a message that he'd gone after you with his most sincere apologies and a promise that he wouldn't allow himself to also be captured."

Ferdinand's blood turned to ice. It made total sense; of course Hubert wouldn't allow himself to become a prisoner. To potentially be used as a hostage against Edelgard. But the knowledge that he was prepared to take his own life rather than be captured - all for the chance of rescuing Ferdinand - clenched the muscles around his heart. It wouldn't have been a trade Ferdinand would be willing to make. 

"Secondly," Edelgard moved on, "I want to make this as transparent as possible. Nothing implied. I wish to outright state it." Her eyes hardened. Her voice darkened. She turned from Hubert's bedside, turning her full attention on Ferdinand. "He is my loyal and trusted retainer. He is my oldest friend. But he is also my vassal. That means I protect him. If you hurt him, I will claim whatever is left after he is finished with you. Do you understand?"

It should have filled Ferdinand with terror. It should have broken off any thoughts that he had about running his fingers through Hubert's hair or kissing the bags under his eyes away. Instead, it only comforted him. There was someone else out there determined to protect Hubert Von Vestra, and that eased a weight he hadn't even known had been on his mind. "I do. Thank you, Edelgard."

Her darkness faded and her expression softened. "Please don't misunderstand me, Ferdinand. I wish nothing but happiness for you both. If that's with each other, then I support it wholeheartedly." Her attention jerked to the figure lying in the bed behind her. 

Hubert groaned and shifted, his eyes clenching before easing open. "Lady Edelgard?"

She smiled at him, leaning closer, her hand soft on his arm. "Relax, Hubert. Everything is alright. Ferdinand is awake."

Ferdinand leaned forward enough so Hubert could see him without having to sit up. "Hubert."

"Ferdinand."

The space between them felt immense.

"There's some pressing business I must attend to," Edelgard announced, splitting the moment. "If you'll excuse me." She didn't look at Ferdinand as she turned, and he couldn't see the look she gave Hubert. Whatever it was, it caused him to turn his head towards the wall. Hiding his face?

Ferdinand waited until she'd stepped out of the infirmary before slowly pushing his legs towards the edge of the bed. 

"Ferdinand, what are you doing?" Hubert asked.

"I'm - attempting to stand - so I may get closer to you." 

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm very good at being ridiculous." He slid to the floor, his bare feet hitting the cool tiles, making him gasp. Thankfully, someone had dressed him in some loose fitting pants, preserving some of his dignity. "I have a lot of practice."

"You - are an idiot."

Ferdinand looked up and saw Hubert struggling to sit up, his face pinched with pain as he pushed away from the pillow. 

"Hubert! What are you doing?" He stumbled across the space between the bed and Edelgard's vacated chair.

Hubert curled over for a moment, hugging his arm to his chest, before straightening and reaching for Ferdinand. "Making sure you don't fall."

Ferdinand took his hand. He clutched Hubert's cool fingers, ungloved and stained with dark magic burns, as the mage pulled him the distance between the chair and his own bed. He couldn't help with only one arm as Ferdinand perched on the edge. It was harder than it should have been since he didn't release Hubert's hand. 

They breathed heavily for a few moments, still linked through entwined fingers, before Hubert asked, "Was that really worth the effort?"

Ferdinand nodded, smiling at him as he evened out his breathing. "It was. Now, I am closer to you." 

Hubert blushed - actually blushed - and looked away again. "I have no idea why that should matter."

Ferdinand had thought he was going to die for a week. He'd had enough time to consider everything he would have done differently and he considered himself lucky that there wasn't much. He considered himself even luckier to have been given a second chance. "Because I wanted to be. Because you saved my life. Because I realized some things while I was in that cell. Because you disobeyed an order from Lady Edelgard to save me."

He sighed. "I see I am betrayed."

Ferdinand laughed. "Oh whatever shall you do."

Mint eyes evaluated him, carefully shielded behind tall walls. "Well, normally, the first course of action is to ascertain how much information has been leaked."

Ferdinand shook his head. "Not much. Just that."

"And what do you intend to do with this information?" Hubert smiled and something in Ferdinand's chest came undone. "Blackmail?"

Ferdinand gasped and flung a hand against his bosom. "I would never stoop to something so ignoble! But," he added, peering at Hubert, leaning close enough that he could smell soap and antiseptic, "now that you know I have this information, I'll ask you a question."

"Which is?"

"Why did you disobey Her Majesty to come after me?"

Hubert's hand tightened in his. Ferdinand didn't even know if Hubert was conscious he'd done it. He grasped Hubert's fingers back. 

"Please, Hubert. Please. Tell me the truth."

Hubert was quiet, the heartbeats between them telling the time as it stretched. Ferdinand waited, hopeful. His years of training horses had given him patience. The years of war had made him willing to wait for something worth it. 

Hubert's words were quiet, tremulous, just loud enough that Ferdinand could hear them. Just loud enough that Ferdinand knew they were only for him. "My coffee always tastes better when prepared by you."

He could have cried. He could have wept with joy. He could have kissed Hubert. He restrained himself. "My tea is never as sweet as when you make it." 

Hubert smiled. "With such a sweet tooth, it's a wonder that you choose the company of someone as bitter as I."

He laughed, tilting his head, admiring the way the sunlight had shifted and turned Hubert's hair to sparkling obsidian. "I've acquired a taste for you." Heat flooded his cheeks and his heart launched into his throat. "That is - I mean -." He didn't get a chance to stutter anything more as Hubert leaned forward. He closed the distance between them and pulled his fingers from Ferdinand's, but only so he could wrap them around the back of Ferdinand's neck and pull him the rest of the way. Hubert's lips sealed against his and Ferdinand melted, eyes sliding closed as he sank down. He was ashamed to say that he'd imagined what it would be like to kiss the Von Vestra heir many times. None of them compared to reality.

It was so much more . More confident. More demanding. More tender. More giving. It contradicted itself from one moment to the next. It pulled Ferdinand in, demanded him, invited him. 

And it ended much too soon. Hubert pulled away, giving Ferdinand a few inches of space, breathing hard like he'd just run through the Monastery. "Forgive me," he begged. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm-."

Ferdinand wrapped his hands, frozen before, around the back of Hubert’s head and pulled him in again, kissing him in a way he didn't even know he was capable of. It was all teeth and tongue, passionate and lustful. And Hubert returned every motion. 

Before he could stop, he was in the mage's lap, straddling him, kissing him, his hair hanging in curtains around them. His fingers traced patterns on the back of Hubert's neck, in the soft spots behind his ears, drawing shudders from the man beneath him. 

Hubert's hand was under his shirt. His fingers, scarred and capable of cruelty, were soft against his skin, mapping the planes of his back that he could reach. 

"Ferdinand," Hubert breathed. Ferdinand shuddered, trailing kisses across his cheeks and down to his neck. "As much - as I don't - want you to stop . . ." He turned his head and captured Ferdinand's lips again, holding him there long enough that they both gasped for breath when they pulled away. "Linhardt will mock us mercilessly if we open our stitches."

Ferdinand kissed his chin, smiling as Hubert titled back and allowed him access to his neck. It felt like such an honor - a privilege - to be allowed near the vulnerable parts of a spymaster. "Then I'll be gentle."

"I got shot in the leg, Ferdinand, and you're right on top of it."

"Goddess, Hubert!" Ferdinand cursed, flinging himself to the side, landing on the mattress beside the mage. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I just did," he grinned. "And as I said," he grinned, "I didn't want you to stop."

"You are a wicked man."

"As you're well aware. But, if you were not, then you may return to your bed and we will forget everything."

Ferdinand frowned at the flash of panic in Hubert's eyes. He'd turned away, trying to hide his face, but Ferdinand tilted his head, following him. He reached up and grabbed the collar of Hubert's shirt, tugging him down until they were nearly nose to nose. He crafted his words carefully before saying them, adding the extra meaning that he knew Hubert would hear. Ferdinand had watching him read between the lines of his words, waiting for some malevolence or traitorous plot woven through. There never was one. Ferdinand's words meant what they said. Now, they meant what they said and more. "I will stay here, by you, if you will allow me."

This close, Ferdinand could see both of Hubert's eyes. They were wide and understanding and beautiful. He nodded minutely, his hair brushing against Ferdinand's forehead. Ferdinand tugged him an inch closer and kissed him, smiling as Hubert melted into it. The terrifying spymaster, the dread Von Vestra, the heir to the shadows, was melting into him. 

There was a bump in the hallway and Hubert turned, directing his attention to the closed door. The strangest wave of comfort came over Ferdinand. He felt safer there, between the wall and Hubert, than he had in his locked quarters since the war began. Mesmerized by the planes of Hubert's back that he could see through his shirt, he started to trace them, his fingers gently moving across the linen. 

Fatigue started to pull at him. He was confused before he remembered that he'd spent the previous week in a dungeon. It seemed so far away. Hubert got me out. He rescued me. Because his coffee tastes better when prepared by me.  

He blinked and looked up. Hubert was gazing down at him from the edge of his pillow. He'd fallen back into it, seemingly placated that an assassin wasn't about to sneak in and kill them both. He looked just as tired as Ferdinand felt. 

Wordlessly, he shifted pulling back to give up at least half of his pillow. Ferdinand took the invitation, but didn't use the pillow. He found his way into Hubert's arm, more careful and aware this time of hidden injuries. He sighed as the mage pulled him close, tucking him under his chin. Soft breaths echoed above him and a strong heartbeat soothed him. 

They didn't say anything else. It was too soon for more overt declarations and neither of them had the energy right then. Hubert pressed a kiss to Ferdinand's hair and Ferdinand smiled, his hands curling into the fabric of Hubert's shirt. This was so much better than anything he could have wished for.