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It’d been years since Ferdinand had visited his father.

At first, it was easy enough to justify. They were in the middle of a war and there was hardly time to travel back and forth between Enbarr and the family estate to catch up. Not to mention, he’d still been coming to terms with his father’s incorrigible actions as prime minister. He’d always known his father to be a selfish man, but he’d never imagined he could encourage the sort of thing that had happened to Edelgard and her siblings. It was a lot to take in.

Ferdinand had written to him when it was necessary, of course. He checked in to be sure the aging man was comfortable and still in good health. That, at least, he owed his father. He had given Ferdinand a roof over his head and paid for his education. He might be unforgivable in almost every regard, but a debt was still a debt.

Even after the war ended, he always found something new to occupy his time. There was the fight with those who slither, for instance, not to mention his official title as Prime Minister provided plenty of diplomatic work to keep him busy. Leaving Enbarr for too long without good reason would be irresponsible. He didn’t want to risk Edelgard calling on him for advice and not being there to provide it.

It was a flawed excuse— he still left the capital on business or even to visit friends when his schedule allowed it, but it was a comfortable lie to tell himself.

Truthfully, the longer he was away from his father’s harsh gaze, the more he dreaded walking into it again. So Ferdinand stayed away, always putting off his inevitable return home just a bit longer.

But it seemed Ferdinand Von Aegir had run out of time.

He turned the paper over in his hands, as if the contents might be changed when he flipped it right side up again. To his disappointment, however, the parchment between his fingertips was unaffected.

In a small, neat print, far too legible to belong to his father, was a message delivered from the Aegir region.

Prime Minister,

I must inform you that the health of the former Duke Aegir has taken a turn for the worse. I called for the local medic as soon as symptoms presented themselves, but his analysis concluded that his condition is a result of age and there is little to be done. I have done all I can to make him comfortable, but the doctor expects him to have a few weeks or less.

I am sure you will wish to visit and will work to prepare all necessary accommodations before your arrival.

With that in mind, I am aware your schedule may not allow a return to the estate on such short notice so I will keep you informed of any changes in your father’s status. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to aid you in this difficult time.

Regretfully,

Isabella Reed, stewardess of the Aegir Estate

Letting the letter fall from his hands, Ferdinand watched it settle among the rest of the scattered papers on his desk. Massaging his temples, he shut his eyes tight and considered his options.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to consider. There could be no further delays to his return. He would have to set out for home before the week’s end if he wished to arrive in a timely manner. He was thankful, at least, that he didn’t have any upcoming meetings that would need to be moved.

Missing his weekly briefings with Edelgard was not ideal, and there were still plenty of ongoing reconstruction projects that he would have liked to check in on, but that was a task that could be delegated.

On the topic of prior engagements, though, that reminded him. He was going to be late if he continued sulking.

Rising from his desk, Ferdinand spared one last glance at the letter. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of unwanted worries, and exited his office.

The familiar walk to the palace garden didn’t require much brain power, which was a welcomed relief since he didn’t have any extra to give. The Empire had barreled headfirst into spring, which was made obvious with one look at the gardens. A hundred different shades of blooms surrounded him as he approached and, had he been in a better state of mind, he might have plucked one to tuck one of the flowers behind his ear.

As it were, though, he moved swiftly past the scenery before entering a grassy opening. A contrast of all black against a sea of vibrant color, Hubert von Vestra was already seated at a small iron table. 

With one leg crossed, he glanced up at Ferdinand and produced one of his signature unreadable expressions. 

It was a familiar sight, one he welcomed on a day like this. They had started meeting for tea since the war and had simply never stopped.

Ferdinand approached the table, feeling the soft grass flatten beneath his feet, and took his seat at the other end of the table. 

“Hello, Hubert,” he greeted with a small smile. Glancing over the table setup he noticed that his companion had already helped himself to a cup of coffee. “Starting without me, I see?”

Hubert grunted and looked back at Ferdinand with disinterest. “You were late.”

Over the years he’d known the other man, Ferdinand had only beat him to a meeting a handful of times. There was once a time when he’d considered that level of punctuality unbearable, but it was now an endearing constant. In fact, he expected he would be stricken with worry if Vestra ever decided to be fashionably late. 

“Ah,” he answered, reaching for one of the teapots on the table and double checking that there was, indeed, tea within and not the bitter substance Hubert cared for, “My apologies.” 

Hubert quirked an eyebrow as Ferdinand poured himself a cup, stirring in some sugar and cream. The silence that elapsed between them stretched on like a silent challenge. Lifting the cup to his lips, Ferdinand took a slow sip, patiently waiting for the other man to voice whatever question was written all over his face. 

When it became obvious that Hubert had no intention of doing so, Ferdinand gave in, setting his drink down with a soft clatter. 

“Is there something you would like to say, von Vestra?”

Hubert shifted in his seat and shrugged. “I’m simply trying to figure out why you look as if you walked past a half decayed street cat on the way here.”

Ferdinand wrinkled his nose in disgust, the image leaving an unwanted taste in his mouth. 

“You’ve always had a way with words,” he deadpanned, shooting his companion a disapproving look. Then, after a beat, he took a more genuine tone: “Is it really that obvious?”

Hubert hummed in response. “I do work in the field of idiosyncrasies, but you’ve never had much of a poker face, either.”

“Well, I doubt you will care, as it does not pose an immediate threat to her majesty,” he began, earning a scowl from Hubert, “but since we are on the topic I should inform you of a change in my schedule.”

It was Hubert’s turn to look put out now, and Ferdinand found some satisfaction in that (they had not entirely abandoned their rivalry, after all). Leaning back in his seat, the dark haired man pursed his lips. “I believe we spoke about giving proper notice for your dalliances the last time you decided to buy impromptu opera tickets?”

   Ferdinand could not suppress a bitter laugh at that. A trip to the opera sounded like a much more enjoyable way to spend his time. At least then he would not have the bundle of nerves building in his stomach that had taken permanent residence inside him ever since he opened that letter. 

“If the choice were mine, my friend, I’d do agonizing paperwork all week in a heartbeat. Alas, unpredicted matters pull me from the capital.”

A look of genuine confusion flashed across Hubert’s face. “What is it?”

Ferdinand knew better than to mistake that look as concern rather than the expression of a man who showed necessary cation in every detail of his life. Still, something warm rose in his chest, and as much as he told himself Hubert had no interest in hearing of his personal troubles, he felt compelled to be honest all the same.

“I am sure your spies in the area will alert you of this soon,” Ferdinand answered, trying to look more detached than he felt, “but my father has fallen ill. It is unlikely that he will recover, therefore I must return home to settle any outlying affairs.”

He felt himself strain as the word ‘home’ left his lips, every inch of his body seeming to insist that there was nothing homey about the place where he grew up. He was more at home at this table with a man he’d once hated than he would be in that house now. 

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Hubert frowned and laced his fingers around the cup in front of him. “I see.”

He did not give Ferdinand his condolences or offer any sort of comfort. Oddly enough, he was grateful for that. Hubert despised his father as a result of the atrocities that had befallen Edelgard in her youth, and though he was Ferdinand’s friend, he would not feign grief for him.

Ferdinand did not want fake sympathy, not when he had yet to experience anything close to sadness after hearing the news. He didn’t wish to lose the only living family member he had left, but to weep for a man who had hardly known the word ‘kindness’? It felt disrespectful to all he had hurt. 

He was not yet ready to face the complexity of the situation, and Hubert did not demand he prepare a suitable reaction. It was a gift Ferdinand doubted the other man even knew he had provided, but was grateful for all the same.

“I plan to leave before the week’s end, but I assure you I will not leave my duties unattended. If all goes as it should, I will have my affairs for my absence in order before I depart,” he continued, stumbling through the easy formalities.

Glancing up at Hubert, he searched the man’s expression for any sign of annoyance. Instead, he found only furrowed brows, a sign that Hubert was trying to work out what this information meant in regards to political complications. 

The sight was so routine it made Ferdinand relieve a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Perhaps it was the comfort of knowing that not being scrutinized that made him so willing to overshare. He wasn’t entirely sure, but before he knew it he was speaking his thoughts aloud. 

“I must admit, I do not know how this encounter will go. I hardly know what to say to the man on a good day anymore, much less now that he is on his deathbed,” Ferdinand confessed, a blush rising to his cheeks when he realized how vulnerable he had made himself.

Hubert took a sip of coffee, unconcerned. “Unfortunately, I’m quite sure my final interaction with my father would not be a prime model,” he answered, not seeming to care that he was alluding to murder. “I’m sure it can’t be much different than your normal visits, though.”

This blatant lack of respect for his situation would have been infuriating under other circumstances, but all Ferdinand could do was laugh.

“What other visits?” he said, pointing out the tell tale flaw in Hubert’s statement.

“Does checking on your dishonored family not count as a friendly visit anymore?” Hubert teased.

Ferdinand paused in surprise. “My dear von Vestra, are you well? It is unlike you to forget details like this.”

“Like what?”

Hubert was looking utterly unamused, as if Ferdinand were pulling some sort of prank. He could only gape, amazed that the man who knew everyone’s whereabouts had made an error.

“I have not spoken to my father in person since he was first stripped of his title,” he explained finally. 

Ferdinand watched as his companion’s face shifted from disbelief to subtle surprise. He could almost hear Hubert going over every time he had mentioned his father or left the capital on personal matters. After a moment, apparently realizing his mistake, Hubert spoke. 

“Why not?”

And wasn’t that quite the question! After all this time, why had he not returned. Had he truly been busy, or was it a simple case of cowardice and shame? Had he been unable to face the truth that was his role model or the house where he’d obsessed over ridiculous competitions while others suffered? Was he afraid one step into his old home would turn him back into the ignorant boy he’d been? Or was it his father’s face he was terrified of, for what if he only saw his own reflection?

“I do not know,” he answered, hoping it was truthful enough to make up for the fact he wasn’t sure what the truth was. Then, inhaling slowly as if to clear the air in his lungs, he changed the subject. “Enough of this drab talk, though. How do you intend to survive without me?”

Hubert rolled his eyes at the implication he would have nothing to do while Ferdinand was away. “Paperwork, mostly. I seem to have stumbled upon a slow week.”

Ferdinand blinked at him, an idea forming. A foolish one perhaps, but he was already asking the question before he could stop himself. 

“You should come with me.”

Hubert scoffed. “No.”

“Why not? You could do your work while you travel! I will even assist, if you require it.”

“I am entirely sure I am the last person your father wishes to host before he croaks.”

Ferdinand winced at the crude phrasing, but didn’t let up. 

“Considering I am technically the owner of the estate now, he hardly has a choice,” he argued, though Hubert didn’t look any more convinced than he had. Ferdinand was getting desperate now, the anxiety within him growing to record size. Dorothea was overseas visiting Petra and Lindhart had accompanied Caspar to the Bergliz region. Bernadetta was in town but even he would not stoop so low as to lead her into the den of yet another cruel noble. 

But Ferdinand was not strong enough to go alone. 

He couldn’t say that to Hubert, though, so instead he simply hoped the man knew. After all, knowing what went unsaid was what he did best.

“Please,” Ferdinand said, voice soft.

A flash of resignation crossed Hubert’s face, so well hidden that Ferdinand doubted he would have noticed it a few short years ago. The softening of his features that was so like him-- cold and unfaltering, but soft if one knew where to look. 

“I don’t like the idea of us both being so far from Enbarr,” he said, “but I will run it by Lady Edelgard all the same.”

Ferdinand grinned at him, the first genuine smile of his afternoon, and, though he could have been mistaken, he thought he saw a corner of Hubert’s mouth turn upwards in response.

“I assure you, I will find a way of properly thanking you for this,” Ferdinand said, leaning forward excitedly.

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Ferdinand answered with a wave of his hand, knowing well that Hubert had already made up his mind if he had deemed it important enough to take up with Edelgard. 

“Now,” he continued, settling into the usual rhythm for their midday tea, “I want your opinion on the Dagdan ambassadors visiting next month.” 

Hubert nodded, shifting through a few papers beside his drink. He must have expected Ferdinand to ask and prepared in advance. The man knew him well…

Hubert didn’t hesitate to give Ferdinand the rundown of all the intel his Dagdan spies had picked up, explaining any possible motives for their visit aside from discussing relations between the two countries. Ferdinand sipped at his tea, listening intently and tucking away every bit of useful information for later. He trusted Hubert’s words more than just about anyone, so he intended to put his help to full use when their visitors arrived. 

They continued on like this, as was so common when they were together. Ferdinand didn’t think he would ever tire of hearing Hubert speak so open and confidently.

Perhaps that was why his home was no longer the address where he was raised. It seemed impossible to belong in a place without this reserved but reliable man at his side. 

***

The following days were filled with bookkeeping and meetings to prepare for Ferdinand’s absence, which left little room for tea with friends. He’d said his goodbyes to Edelgard and the professor during a briefing scheduled weeks prior, but had been unable to reach out to any of his other companions in the capital. 

There was no time to regret it, however, as he approached the carriage he would be taking to the Aegir estate. The evening wind chilled the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. He almost regretted having tied his hair back, but carriages tended to be so stuffy and he hated the feel of it stuck to his skin more than the cold air.   

For once, it seemed he’d beat Hubert, although he was sure it was only because the man was busy tying up any loose ends before his departure. Ferdinand shot their driver an appreciative nod and moved towards one of the horses, a cream mare. Idly, he stroked its mane as he awaited his friend. 

It wasn’t long before he spotted Hubert’s lean figure approaching, bathed in the moon’s soft light. 

Internally, Ferdinand wondered if he had only replaced the problem of visiting his father alone with another, equally as distressing one. In preparation for the long ride, Hubert had abandoned his usual formal attire for a more comfortable button down and slacks. He looked so incredibly at ease that Ferdinand nearly forgot himself for a moment, tempted to brush the dark hair from the man’s face to look at both of his lovely eyes. 

This was certainly not the first unprofessional thought he’d had in regards to Hubert von Vestra, however, and he doubted it would be the last. He’d long ago learned to control his impulses, so instead, he opted to offer a small smile a greeting as he moved to greet him. 

“I see you found the time to say farewell to Bernadetta,” he said, directing his gaze at the small piece of embroidery protruding from Hubert’s breast pocket. It was decorated with lavender flowers that Ferdinand thought complimented his pale complexion well.

Hubert’s cheeks reddened, which made the scathing look he shot Ferdinand rather ineffective. 

“I was instructing her on my responsibilities should something come up while we are away,” he muttered. “Rejecting her parting gift would have been uncalled for after her help.”

Ferdinand only laughed, knowing that Hubert wouldn’t have said no to Bernedetta under other circumstances, either. He spared his brooding friend, however, and didn’t point that out. 

“Well, I am glad one of us was able to wish her well, but with any luck we will see her again soon.”

“Agreed. The shorter I must endure your father’s presence, the better.”

Ferdinand probably should have pointed out it was disrespectful to speak of the dying in such a manner, but he found he didn’t have much to say in his father’s defense. Instead, he opened the carriage door and gestured Hubert inside.

“You forget that you will be graced with my glorious company as well, my friend,” Ferdinand jested. 

The other man rolled his eyes as he climbed into the body of the carriage, ducking his head to fit inside. Ferdinand tried not to dwell on just how tall Hubert was as he followed him in. 

“If only you’d let me,” Hubert retorted, taking his seat while Ferdinand settled into the cushion across for him.

Ferdinand feigned outrage, but was only barely able to keep a smile from his face. Whatever nerves he’d had about setting out for home were forgotten in favor of their comfortable banter. 

He wondered what his father would say if he knew this was the man that had stolen his heart, the man who simply thinking of made him smile and whose voice could put him at ease instantaneously. Duke Aegir had once been so set on finding him a respectable wife to carry on the family legacy, and here Ferdinand was, lovestruck by the empress’s bloody shadow. He’d been that way for a long time now. 

He suspected the mere idea of Ferdinand’s affections would give both his father and Hubert an unexpected heart attack. Best to let them both think he was simply enjoying the bachelor life. 

The carriage lurched forward beneath them and Ferdinand turned his attention to the window, watching the streets of Enbarr glide by. They hadn’t even left and he already missed it. 

Hubert must have been in a similar state of contemplation, for they both fell into an easy silence. 

Ferdinand was unsure how much time elapsed, but he could see the lights of the capital growing smaller in the distance until the darkness of night swallowed them entirely. 

He’d nearly forgotten about the other man’s presence when Hubert spoke again. 

“How did you avoid returning for so long,” he asked.

Ferdinand shifted to face him, a weary smile crossing his face. 

“I have returned to the region plenty of times on business, but the land is mostly managed by the people who live there. I gave up most of those powers when I was officially appointed prime minister. It seemed irresponsible to risk ignoring the people in my own region if diplomatic issues took up my time, so  I minimized my control. Since then, visits have been significantly reduced,” he explained, a small sliver of pride rising in him as he thought of how successful the Aegir region had been after he’d put it’s upkeep into the hands of the people. “The estate is well staffed, too, so there was never a need to personally attend to Father. He only really writes me when he is in need of something.”

Hubert narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

Ferdinand waved off his suspicion, a bit offended that Hubert thought he wouldn’t alert him if his father was putting together some secret uprising. “Do not be so paranoid, Hubert, my father’s days of coup planning are behind him. He only asks for new pillows or more wine. All expenses must go through me now and I do not believe he has taken well to my less extravagant lifestyle. He misses his old luxuries.”

“If your lifestyle is less extravagant I shiver to imagine how he lived,” Hubert deadpanned.

“Hush,” Ferdinand chided, “It is perfectly reasonable to commission a custom tea set every now and then.”

“It seems we have different definitions of ‘reasonable’.”

“Aside from that,” Ferdinand said, pointedly returning to the topic at hand, “he does not call on me often. Now and then he will catch wind of one of my reforms and send me a well developed essay on the many ways it fails to meet his expectations, but those are hardly an invitation to visit.”

Across from him, Hubert’s expression had gone dark, his jaw clenched. Although Ferdinand liked to think he was one of the few people who could read Hubert, he couldn’t decipher what that look meant. On the off chance that it was something he’d said, he decided not to pry and tried to change the subject. 

“Did you speak to Edelgard before you left?”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course.”

“You told her then, yes? About my father’s health?” he asked. 

He could tell Hubert was trying to figure out what he was getting at with that question, but eventually gave up and answered.

“I did. I apologize if you wished to keep it private, but it is my duty to alert her to all available information about the empire.”

He didn’t look particularly remorseful. Ferdinand was sure he would do the same thing again if given the chance, but he could tell that Hubert also didn’t enjoy the idea of upsetting him. That was enough.

“Actually,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen loose from his face, “I am glad. I do not like to risk broaching the subject of my father with her for… obvious reasons, but she has a right to know. A man who caused her great suffering will soon be gone from this world, and as her friend I am grateful for that.”

Hubert’s eyes were studying him and Ferdinand had to resist the urge to squirm beneath his gaze. He was likely trying to puzzle out how genuine Ferdinand’s statement truly was, but they both knew he was an atrocious liar. There may have been a time where he wished to see Edelgard fail, but that was in the past. They had fought a war together since then--bonds foraged in the fire of tragedy are not so easily broken. 

Perhaps he had no right to think this way, but he cared for her as if she were his own sister. Seeing one of the burdens on her shoulders removed was a true joy. 

“And what about as the son of that man?” Hubert asked.

It was the same question Ferdinand had been asking himself a lot as of late. 

“As his son,” he echoed thoughtfully, “I will do what must be done for his peace of mind.”

He could see in Hubert’s pale green eyes that he wanted to know more. A proper spymaster could never be satisfied with such a small portion of the truth, but he didn’t ask Ferdinand to say more. Instead, he looked out the darkened window and tried to gage their location. 

“It can’t be too long now,” he stated. 

Goosebumps pricked at Ferdinand’s skin, but he took comfort in the fact his father was fast asleep by this time in the night. He would not be forced to confront him until after he and Hubert had gotten a full night’s rest. 

He could enjoy this time with the man he cared for a while longer still.

***

The plan had been that, upon their arrival at the Aegir estate, Ferdinand would show Hubert to one of the house's guest rooms before retiring to his own for the night.

In fact, the promise of separate sleeping arrangements had been one of the deciding factors in Hubert agreeing to accompany him. The war had ended long ago, but the memory of camping out in cramped tents on the way to their next battle still plagued Hubert. He remembered one particular evening when Ferdinand had essentially passed out on top of him, leaving Hubert mortified but unable to bring himself to move the other man. He’d gone into the fight the following morning without even an hour of sleep.

He tried to avoid repeating that encounter as often as he could, but he’d been convinced he’d surely be given his own room with a house that enormous, so he’d agreed to come along.

Well, that and a few other factors had convinced Hubert. 

He still recalled the fallen look on Ferdinand’s face when they’d met for tea. He was like an entirely different man without that unfaltering optimism…

Unfortunately, Hubert had miscalculated.

He hadn’t predicted that Ferdinand wouldn’t make it to his own room after showing Hubert the guest wing. He had looked away for only a moment to set his things down, only to find an exhausted Ferdinand collapsed on the bed. 

It was a pitiful sight, one that Hubert tried his best to ignore as he shifted the sleeping man’s weight on the bed so he was no longer at risk of falling off.

It was Hubert’s idea to travel so late in the day, after all. There had been so much to do before he left that he’d tried to put off their departure as long as possible, forgetting that Ferdinand was not as accustomed to running on so little sleep. Hubert could hardly force him to move when it was his own fault he was in this situation in the first place.

Sprawled on the mattress with his ginger hair half escaped from its tie, Ferdinand looked more at peace than he’d been all day. 

With a sigh, Hubert tore his gaze from the man’s freckled skin and resigned to sleeping at the small desk across the room. It wouldn’t be the first or last time. 

He pulled a few reports from his bags and read them over until he was tired. An hour or so later, he put out the lantern and allowed sleep to take him. 

When he woke next, he could see the sun filtering through the window. His first instinct was to check to see if Ferdinand had woken before him, but as he whipped his head around to check he was hit with a sudden pain in his neck.

Such was the joy of sleeping in a chair.

Once the ache subsided he was able to assess that Ferdinand was still unmoving, to his great relief. Hubert had a particularly nasty case of bedhead that he would have preferred not to have mocked till the day he died. 

Attempting to matte down the stray hairs, he examined the other man, only to find he looked as flawless as ever. Maybe more so. 

Ferdinand, who was always so well groomed, was lying with his clothes from the night before wrinkled beyond recognition. His auburn curls tangled in thick knots, laying across his face and arms and the golden light from the window made his complexion look a bit like sunlight itself. 

Hubert felt almost as if he was intruding on this intimate sight, but that was often the case with Ferdinand. He wore his heart on his sleeve and gave his trust away without considering whether the person deserved it or not. 

As much as he wished to keep drinking in the sight of Ferdinand, he forced himself to look away, lest the other man wake up and discover him. He had plenty of work to distract him, not that any was half as lovely. 

He was only settled back in his seat for a few moments, however, when Ferdinand began to stir. 

Hearing a soft grunt from behind him, he turned to glance at the other man. Ferdinand was sitting up, eyes scrunched shut, with one arm outstretched over his head. Hubert jerked his attention back to his papers, hoping to buy himself time so the flush in his cheeks could reside. 

“Look who’s finally awake,” he scolded, not daring to look Ferdinand in the eyes just yet. 

“H-Hubert!” Ferdinand squeaked, apparently surprised to see him. “What are you-- Why--?” 

Half way through his stammering Hubert forced himself to brave a glance in Ferdinand’s direction. Having jumped out of bed, he was now staring back at Hubert, red faced and wide eyed, as he attempted to hastily comb through his hair. 

“Well I wasn’t going to go knocking on every door looking for an empty room after you passed out in here,” he smirked, resting his arms on the back of the chair.

Still disgruntled and groggy, Ferdinand ran a hand down his face. 

“Well if you were not regretting accompanying me before, you surely are now that I have proven myself a wholly incompetent host,” he said, sheepishly.

Hubert rolled his eyes. 

“As if we haven’t both suffered much less generous accommodations,” he retorted. “There are more pressing matters than hospitality at the moment, Ferdinand. What’s the plan?”

If it were up to Hubert, he would have spent all day in this room with Ferdinand, going over new policies and approaching diplomatic meetings, just as they would in Enbarr. Unfortunately, Ferdinand had come here for a reason. Hubert would simply have to settle for assisting however he could. 

Settling slightly, Ferdinand sat back on the foot of the bed. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

“Half past eight.”

“Well, unless Father has taken up morning walks in his old age he will not wake for another few hours,” he mused, the same distant look falling over his face that had been with him ever since he’d decided to go to the Aegir estate. “Once we have both dressed for the day it will likely be closer to that time, however. I will ask Isabella to prepare coffee for you…”

“And tea,” Hubert added.

“Of course,” Ferdinand said, sounding more disinterested than Hubert had ever heard him on the topic. 

“After that I suppose I will ask my father how he wishes his affairs be handled. I believe a will was already drawn, but on the off chance it is not accurate I will have to ask for it to be changed.”

“He lost all of his property when Edelgard ascended, what could he possibly need a will for?” Hubert sneered. 

“True,” Ferdinand agreed, “it is more a formality than anything, but it must be done all the same. Aside from that, I suppose I should talk to him in general? It sounds as if I will not be getting another chance.”

He looked at Hubert with uncertainty, as if he was waiting for his approval, despite Hubert being the last person to ask. He’d done none of these formalities before his father’s death and in the years since he’d never once regretted skipping them. There were some men who deserved no memorial ceremony or last words.

In his opinion, the former Prime Minister was one of those men. Flames, if Ferdinand wanted to do things his way, Hubert would have told him the bastard didn’t deserve to see the person his son had become at all. He should die knowing that Ferdinand had exceeded him and didn’t even see him worthy of a cursory ‘goodbye’. 

But Ferdinand had always been a better man than him, much more prone to forgiveness, so Hubert said none of that. Instead, he only nodded.

 “That should cover all the legal matters,” Hubert agreed. “How long do you intend to stay?”

He did not add on the silent question: will I be counting down the days until he keels over while I await your return?

“I am… not entirely sure yet,” Ferdinand admitted, eyes glued to the ground. “You are, of course, free to leave when you please. I know you are busy, and having you here for this first encounter will be more than enough.”

The idea of returning to Enbarr without Ferdinand for goddess knows how long didn’t comfort him much, but he didn’t push the subject. 

“We meet back here in an hour, then?” he asked. “That should be plenty of time to get our affairs in order before grabbing drinks.”

Ferdinand nodded in agreement and took his leave to go bathe in his own room. As Hubert watched him depart he was left with the unsettling feeling that something was off, but he could not name it. 

The sooner he could get Ferdinand out of this wretched place, the better. He was well versed in places with unsettling atmospheres, but the air in the estate made him feel as if he was surrounded by ghosts.

***

After Hubert was dressed for the day, he ran into Ferdinand speaking to a young woman with dark hair. He looked considerably more put together than he had an hour before and his signature smile had returned to his face as he conversed. 

“My apologies for failing to return sooner,” Ferdinand said with a small bow. The woman’s face contorted into a look of shock at this display of respect from a superior, but the ginger didn’t seem to notice. “I am indebted to you for all your hard work while I was in the capital.”

She hastily shook her head. 

“Not at all prime minister, I was only doing my job, but I thank you for your kind words all the same,” she said as her eyes met Hubert’s for a brief moment. “I will have breakfast prepared for you both immediately, I’m terribly sorry for the wait.”

Ferdinand followed her gaze and turned around, a more genuine smile spreading across his face when he spotted Hubert. It made something warm grow in his gut. 

“Ah, Hubert!” he exclaimed. “This is Isabella Reed -- she cared for both my father and the estate while I was in Enbarr. Truly, the Aegir household is blessed to have her talents. Isabella, this is my companion, Hubert von Vestra, Minister of the Imperial Household.”

A deep blush spread across Isabella’s face as she dropped into a deep bow. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet your esteemed acquaintance,” Isabella greeted. “The Prime Minister is far too kind in his description of me, but I have only heard the highest regards of you, Sir.”

Hubert shot Ferdinand a smirk, as the Prime Minister strategically averted his gaze. 

“I’m sure von Aegir has similarly exaggerated about me,” Hubert answered. 

Isabella glanced between them, no doubt shocked to hear her boss spoken to so casually, but she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she only bowed again, a black curl falling in front of her face, and once again assured them that she would have their drinks prepared shortly. 

After she’d taken her leave, Hubert spared another look in Ferdinand’s direction. He still looked a bit embarrassed, but shame was never a feeling that lasted long for him. 

“Should we depart for the dining room?” Ferdinand asked, gesturing down the hall.

“That does seem to be the logical next move,” Hubert answered. 

As they walked through the house, Hubert took in the details he had missed under the cover of night. The walls were decorated by dozens of priceless pieces of art and rimmed with expensive metals. It occurred to him that Ferdinand wasn’t exaggerating when he claimed his father was even more extravagant than himself. The blatant displays of wealth around each corner were borderline distasteful. 

One particular painting, however, caught Hubert’s eye, just before the two of them turned into the house’s enormous entryway. 

Staring down at him from a looming canvas covered in oil paint, was Ferdinand. 

Except, it wasn’t actually Ferdinand. Though the two shared features, this man’s hair was far too short and the skin around his cool eyes was completely lacking the real Ferdinand’s signature freckles. Beside the impostor Ferdinand was a brunette woman with a familiar warm smile and speckled face, gripping the hand of a small boy. 

“This was the first painting I ever stood for,” the living Ferdinand at Hubert’s side interjected, following his gaze. “I remember I complained the entire time.”

So, the man and woman in this painting were Ferdinand’s parents? Hubert hardly recognized Ludwig with a full head of hair, but looking closer at the child he noticed just how familiar the boy was. 

As for Ferdinand’s mother…

“This is the first image of your mother I’ve ever seen,” he commented.

“That’s understandable,” Ferdinand assured with a fond smile. “She came from a respectable bloodline but her family didn’t have the money for these sort of portraits until she married my father. There are a few other images of her--I actually keep one of the smaller pieces with me at the capital--but not many. She passed away not long after this one was commissioned.”

Hubert knew the basics about Alina von Aegir, as was expected of him as the imperial spymaster, but it had never been relevant to national safety. His intel stated that she had been one of the many victims of an illness that swept Adrestia just under twenty years ago. Ludwig, who already possessed an heir with a crest, never remarried, however he was rumored to have plenty of illegitimate children scattered across the empire. 

A part of him couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person she was, though, and what she’d passed down to her son along with her freckles. 

Turning back to Ferdinand, Hubert found that the other man was not gazing at his mother, but instead at the young Ludwig. 

“I forgot how much I resemble him from back then,” he said, voice quiet, eyes never once moving from the painting. 

A part of Hubert ached to point out how, in every other way, Ferdinand was nothing like his father. If he was, Hubert would have disposed of him long ago, as a threat to her majesty. 

He thought that, perhaps, a thinly veiled threat was not the proper response, however, so instead he answered: “We should go before the drinks get cold.”

Ferdinand followed him down the hall in silence. 

As Isabella had promised, tea and coffee was prepared when they arrived, and while the brew was unrivaled, a thick air of anticipation made it difficult to enjoy. A grandfather clock ticked as they drained their cups until, finally, there was nothing left to do but face the dying man. 

Hubert had expected to feel some satisfaction at the sight, but the paleness of Ferdinand’s face made it difficult to enjoy the win. 

Ludwig was in his room. According to Ferdinand, he had been told by the doctor that he was in no shape to leave bed. Still, his declining health did nothing to make him less demanding. As Hubert held open the door for Ferdinand, he heard his voice bellow from within. 

“Did you bring my painkillers?” he demanded, face red from yelling. “I’ve been waiting ages-- Ferdinand?”

Though he lowered his voice when he spotted his son, nothing else about Aegir softened. 

“I am afraid I bring nothing of the sort, father,” Ferdinand answered, striding across the room with Hubert in tow. 

Spotting him, Ludwig’s features darkened, no doubt remembering him from when Lady Edelgard disgraced him. Hubert resisted the urge to smile. 

“What is he doing here?” he hissed at his son, sitting up in an attempt to at least look like he held some authority. “You disgrace me by bringing a Vestra into this house! Of all the--”

“That is enough,” Ferdinand interrupted, sharply, shocking even Hubert. A coldness emitted from his words as he stood, fists balled at his sides. “Hubert is here as my personal guest. I will not allow you to speak ill of him.” 

Although Hubert was completely capable of defending himself if he had felt the need to, he couldn’t help but be a bit impressed with Ferdinand. Listening to him speak so sternly was a bit like watching the sun go dark. 

Ludwig did not offer any sign of remorse, but he didn’t argue further, settling back into the white sheets of his bed. 

This room was much larger than the guest bedroom he--and Ferdinand--had slept in, with large windows that spanned from floor to ceiling. It was decorated similarly to the rest of the house with expensive trinkets on display wherever there was space. A pair of what seemed to be specially crafted longswords hung above the headboard of the bed, although Hubert doubted Ludwig had ever wielded them. 

Aside from the frivolous stylings, however, the room felt bare of any sort of warmth. Hubert had been to Ferdinand’s residence in the capital a hundred times, and it seemed impossible that these two men shared blood. Every inch of Ferdinand’s spaces were covered in well kept plants and random items that he’d been too sentimental to throw out. Old horseshoes from his favorite steeds, dolls Bernadetta had made him, opera tickets from shows where he’d watched Dorothea perform-- Ferdinand held onto all of it, making his room look a bit like a pawn shop to the untrained eye. 

Perhaps Hubert just didn’t know Ludwig well enough, but he saw no paintings of his family here or items that screamed that they were a gift from Ferdinand. The room was full of things so useless it almost felt bare. 

Ferdinand pulled two wooden chairs up to the bed and took a seat in the one closest. Silently, Hubert settled into the one at his side. 

“We need to go over some legal matters so everything is ready for later,” Ferdinand explained, folding his hands in his lap. 

“That doctor is a fool,” Ludwig snapped, before descending into a short coughing fit in response to the sudden exertion. “Besides, your guest assured I don’t even own the clothes on my back anymore.”

Ferdinand sighed and Hubert tried not to look too proud. 

“Perhaps, but the formalities must be addressed all the same. Please, this will go faster if you cooperate.”

Sitting back, Ludwig let out a long exhale, eyebrows drawing together. 

“Ferdinand, my child, how could you allow this to happen after all I did for you?” he asked. At his side, Ferdinand winced, the accusation seeming to pierce into him. “You will cause the Aegir legacy to die with me.”

Hubert glared at the old man, hoping that the look itself might end him. 

Unfortunately, Ludwig continued breathing.

Hubert wasn’t sure why Ludwig’s words meant so much to Ferdinand, but he supposed there were some things about a normal household he just couldn’t relate to. He had never felt any attachment to his blood relatives, but Ferdinand was different. He strived for the approval of all, and Ludwig was no exception. In fact, judging by Ferdinand’s expression, his father might have been the person he hoped to impress most. 

Hubert just wished there was some way to tell him that he was so much more than Ludwig could have imagined. 

“Just… answer my questions,” said Ferdinand, voice soft. Hubert had to fight the ridiculous urge to grab his hand. 

Flames, that wounded look would be the end of him.

To his relief, Ludwig did begin to cooperate, albeit begrudgingly. Every now and then he’d sneak in some comment in regards to Ferdinand’s reforms as Prime Minister and Hubert would be forced to resist strangling him where he sat. 

He knew Ferdinand could handle himself and it’d be foolish to waste his poisons on a man with one foot in the grave, so Hubert opted to pass the time by coming up with overly complex ways he could stage the man’s death. 

As the hours passed, Ferdinand shifted through the paperwork and notes he’d brought along, jotting down any meaningful comments Ludwig had. It was around noon by the time he finished with the required items and moved on to Aegir’s personal requests. 

Setting his quill aside, the man beside him let out a shaky breath. Each minute they spent in this house seemed to exhaust him and Hubert longed to lead him away from here. He wished to kiss the worried creases on Ferdinand’s face and leave him without this unnamed sorrow, but Hubert knew better. His talent lied in creating pain, not removing it. 

“And what of me?” Ferdinand asked, his muscles tensing. “Would you have me personally do anything to honor you?”

Hubert nearly scoffed. Ludwig was anything but honorable.

For a long moment, Aegir was silent, looking between Hubert and his son. Although he had insisted the doctor was wrong, it was obvious that he was weaker now, and this knowledge was only confirmed as he reached a shaking hand out to Ferdinand. 

The Prime Minister leaned into the touch, wary but as willing to trust as ever. Ludwig’s fingers wrapped around a strand of auburn hair, and for a split second Hubert was almost jealous. 

“Even if I did set a path for you,” the man answered, his grip tightening suddenly and trapping the locks in his fist, “you would never make up for how far you’ve fallen, Ferdinand.” 

Ferdinand scrambled backwards as if he’d been burned, ripping his hair from his father’s grip. The chair toppled over as he moved, clattering against the floor, but he paid it no notice. 

In a split second, Hubert was also on his feet, reaching out but falling just short of touching the other man. He wasn’t sure what he planned to do--steady him? Comfort him?--but he had to do something . 

“We will continue this when you decide to be more helpful,” Ferdinand hurriedly forced out as a way of excusing himself, not meeting either of their eyes. His fingertips hovered just above where Ludwig’s hand had been before he pulled his hand back and turned on his heel. 

He was out of the room before anyone else could speak. 

Hubert found himself torn between wanting to catch up with Ferdinand and making Ludwig wish he’d never been born. 

He stared back at Ludwig, the easier option, with disgust. 

“Brave of you to say such things in front of me,” he hissed, danger in his voice. “I suppose death makes even the biggest cowards bold, but there are worse pains in the world than an ended life.”

Ludwig swallowed and squirmed where he sat. As much as Hubert wished he could show Aegir a few of those pains, he would have to be content with this healthy bit of fear. There were other matters that needed to be attended. 

Of course, if he still required a reminder of what Hubert could do, he would happily provide later.

Without another word, Hubert followed out the door Ferdinand had exited. 

It took a moment to track the other man down in a house with so many rooms, but Hubert eventually found him out on the second story balcony, looking out on the expanse of green fields that surrounded the estate. 

“I needed some air,” Ferdinand said when he heard Hubert approach, not turning around. He was gripping the railing so tightly the knuckles on his hands were turning white.

“I’d imagine so,” Hubert answered. Then, after a beat of uncomfortable silence: “Your father is a fool.” 

“That makes two of us, then,” Ferdinand retorted with a bitter laugh. “I do not know why I still care about his opinions of me.”

Hubert ran a gloved thumb against his index finger, unsure what to say. Even now, Ferdinand looked perfect, leaning against the barrier as if he belonged there with the wind whipping through his hair. 

“They say old habits are the hardest to break,” he supplied, immediately grimacing at how useless he sounded. 

“You asked me how I felt about my father as his son,” Ferdinand said, a shallow breath going through his body. “Well... I believe I hate him. It is unbecoming of me but I cannot help it. I hate that he lied to me for so long and that I still hear his voice reminding me of all the ways I have fallen short of success. I hate the control he has over me and most of all I hate myself for loving him despite all of that.”

Hubert listened to him speak in stunned silence, the confessions pouring out one after the other, waiting to be condemned. It amazed him that Ferdinand believed he was in any place to judge on morality- flames, how could he think Hubert could judge him in general.

Ferdinand spun around to face him, eyes wide and red. Before Hubert could put together a coherent response, he was talking again. 

“Hubert, you have never hesitated to be honest with me. Please, tell me--am I the same as him? I do not wish to be the man he was, but I find myself making his mistakes and I fear--”

Hubert was moving towards him before he could think. He had no plan, he only wished to rid Ferdinand of that lost expression as quickly as possible. He couldn’t stand to hear him charge himself with any more false crimes. 

Wrapping a gloved hand around Ferdinand’s chin, Hubert forced him to look him in the eye. Glassy amber stared back at him, surprised but unafraid. They were so close Hubert could feel the other man’s breath. 

“You and that man share nothing but an unfortunate bit of blood,” Hubert assured him in a hushed voice. “Every action you have ever taken for as long as I’ve known you has proven that. And if you still don’t believe me, I will be forced to write a lengthy list of every difference between you that I have observed in just the last few days.”

Hubert did not break his gaze, mouth set in a thin line. He needed to see for himself that Ferdinand understood. 

It was obvious from the slight tension in the other man’s brow that he still had doubts, but Hubert didn’t know what else to say. How could he put the observations of just under a decade of loving this man into words? 

In the end he decided that he couldn’t. 

Before he could second guess himself, Hubert closed the space between them, pressing his lips against Ferdinand’s. They were as soft as he’d always imagined, if not more, and the feel of them made something dangerous rise within him. Years worth of wanting bubbled up inside him, begging him to slip his hands into that soft hair and pull Ferdinand closer still. 

He forced himself to show restraint, however, and pulled back an inch. He could still feel Ferdinand’s hot breath on his skin and a shiver went down his back. 

“There’s another one for the list,” Hubert swallowed, braving a glance up at Ferdinand’s expression. “If a von Aegir isn’t supposed to even let a Vestra into his home, I highly doubt they would let one kiss them.”

Ferdinand was looking at him as if he’d just turned gravel into gold, his entire face red, although Hubert expected his cheeks weren’t any better. After another beat of silence, he realized that he’d misread the situation and moved to take a step back, already trying to find an excuse to return to Enbarr early. 

And then Ferdinand’s hands were around his waist, pulling him back before he could get a word in. Hubert felt his lips against his own, kissing him again, more deeply this time. The warmth of the other man pulsated through him and, for once, Hubert didn’t force himself to hold back. 

He slipped one hand around the back of Ferdinand’s neck, tangling his fingers through the soft hair at his nape. He could feel the brush of eyelashes against his cheek and he pressed harder against Ferdinand’s chest--a challenge the other man met without hesitation. 

Hubert could taste the herbal tang of Ferdinand’s mouth and he wondered if he had sorely misjudged tea, for in that moment it was the sweetest flavor in the entirety of the Empire. He slid his tongue over Ferdinand’s, desperate for more, and heard a soft moan escape the ginger. Hubert smiled into the kiss, hoping to coax a few more sounds from him yet. 

When they finally pulled apart to catch their breath, Hubert could see a toothy grin spread across Ferdinand’s face and he thought being the cause of that genuine smile might be the first truly good thing he’d ever done. 

“Hubert?” Ferdinand asked, his perfect hair looking properly disheveled thanks to Hubert’s wandering hands. 

Hubert hummed a response, not trusting himself to use words just yet. 

“I think it might be good to keep adding to that list,” he said, trying--but entirely failing--to look serious. “To keep me in line, of course.”

Hubert laughed softly and pressed another kiss to one of the freckles at the corner of Ferdinand’s mouth. He would have kissed every single one if he had the chance. 

“I might be able to help with that,” Hubert answered. “After all, it’s my job to assure everyone is serving the Empire to the height of their abilities.”

Ferdinand sighed contently and rested his head against Hubert’s shoulder, settling into the embrace. Hubert knew he wasn’t the warmest man, but he wrapped the other man in his arms all the same, hoping to provide some small bit of relief from the memory of this house.

“Thank you,” Ferdinand said, his voice muffled against Hubert’s shirt, “for coming with me. I do not think I could have faced this place on my own.”

“I...” he began, taken aback by the honesty of his words. “I would do it again, if you’d only ask. I will stand by you.”

Loyalty--that was all Hubert could offer. He could not promise to be pure or untouched by bloody horrors, but he would not falter in his devotion. Of that, at least, he was sure. 

“I know,” Ferdinand said, and Hubert could hear the joy in his voice.

After one more moment in each other's arms, Ferdinand untangled himself so he could look Hubert in the eye, though he took one of his hands in his own. 

“I think I should finish this by myself, though. I… need to know I can,” he explained, and for the first time since they’d arrived, he looked sure. “Tomorrow morning, we leave. There is nothing for me here any longer. My home is in Enbarr with Edelgard and the professor and everyone else. With you.”

Hubert could hardly fathom being a part of someone’s home, but he could learn. He wanted to learn. 

Nodding, he gave Ferdinand’s hand an encouraging squeeze. 

“Besides,” Ferdinand added, “I do not trust myself to focus with you so near.”

Another chuckle escaped Hubert. 

“Well, if you find yourself wanting to add any toxins to Ludwig’s lunch, I won’t be far.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes but his grin widened. He raised Hubert’s hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on the cloth before letting it fall from his grip. 

“I’ll send Isabelle up to your room with something to eat,” he called back as he moved towards the balcony’s entrance. “I will not have you skipping meals under my care.”

Hubert had half the mind to argue, but the sentiment was too endearing for him to put up much of a fight. 

“Give your father my lack of regards.”

“How could I forget, my love?” Ferdinand teased back, and Hubert could tell that he would be ok. 

From the ashes of a past home burned beyond recognition, they would build something new.