The situation wouldn't be entirely new to Hubert, but for one minor detail - this time, he wouldn't wake up. It was real. Nothing could be more real than the heat of Ferdinand's body pressed, than the way he moaned into their kiss, pressing himself closer, always closer.
Hubert managed to pull away just long enough to gasp out 'bed'. Then there was the clumsy tango as they stumbled backwards through Ferdinand's room, tugging at each other's clothes, trying to avoid stray pieces of armour. A Bolganone could go off outside and neither would notice. Or so Hubert thought. It wasn't a destructive spell that broke through the haze they found themselves in, but a far less poetic, more common sound of metal clattering against the floor.
Ferdinand broke the kiss and squinted. "Hubert, what was that?"
"Ah, nothing-"
Too late. Ferdinand let go and walked around him to inspect the dagger that came loose in all their fumbling.
Hubert stood there, unsure what to expect. With all the optimism of the ill-informed, his cock was standing too. Both were keenly aware of Ferdinand's proximity.
"I should have disarmed you first," Ferdinand teased. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at Hubert, an unexpectedly sly smile that stirred something deep in his chest.
Right. They'd known each other for far longer than they'd liked each other and the presence of a concealed weapon simply wasn't enough to surprise Ferdinand, let alone scare him off. Hubert's posture relaxed. "Just set it somewhere, I shall retrieve it... later."
He sat down on the bed and crossed his legs in a movement that he hoped was alluring. It wasn't, though it hardly mattered, because Ferdinand was busy examining the weapon.
"Why, Hubert, that is a marvellous piece! How on earth did you get your hands on it?" He began pacing around the room, his attention fully devoted to the object in his hands.
"Why don't you come closer and-"
Ferdinand interrupted him with a dismissive wave. "For shame, you have not been taking good care of it at all! When did you last condescend to clean it properly?" Dagger still in hand, he started rummaging through his possessions. Hubert wished he'd just plunge it into his chest. It would hurt less.
While Ferdinand laid out his weapon maintenance kit swiftly, he kept pausing to admire the craftsmanship, sharing his delight in a series of shouts and observations that bounced off of the grim figure seated on his bed.
"-now, I truly do not mind sharing some oil with you, but you must promise to stop neglecting your weaponry like that. I shudder to imagine what shape the Arrow of Indra is in, if this is any indication."
"Ferdinand," Hubert grumbled, "it isn't that important. It is only there as a last resort, it's been used perhaps twice."
"That is exactly why it is important!" he exclaimed! Then he turned back to Hubert and his expression softened. "It is supposed to keep you safe."
The silence that spilt between them echoed those words and all they implied. Seconds passed. Hubert stood up and walked over to Ferdinand. He was half-tempted to tilt his face up and kiss him, but instead he simply sat on the floor next to him.
It was the duty of the minister of the imperial household to know everything, and so it should surprise no one that the ability to gather intel was an essential quality for those under his direct command. In other words, the Vestra sorcery engineers were the most gossipy bunch in all of Fódlan.
They crowded the antechamber of lord Vestra’s offices, speaking in hushed tones amongst themselves, resembling nothing as much as a mischief of magpies in their beaked masks.
One of their comrades tiptoed out, closed the door with excessive care, and only then shook her head.
“Do you think we’re going to war again?” Sperata, the newest addition, asked.
A shrug. “He’s just standing there,” said Manon, which was, as her colleagues noted, not a no.
"While the involvement in other territories' matters is a long-standing tradition of House Aegir," Hubert began slowly, reaching into his pocket, "it is not one that will be continued."
"I am only asking not to be kept in ignorance," Ferdinand spat out. His gaze flitted to the letter peeking out of Hubert's pocket, but he did not back down. "Or is blindsiding your own allies at every turn the best strategy at your disposal?"
"Only when the ally in question has a propensity for melodrama," Hubert shot back, pulling the envelope out of his pocket. He continued, sarcasm dripping from every word: "Rest assured, there are entire minutes when your input on imperial affairs isn't needed nor wanted."
Hubert’s voice cut through the rare moment of stillness.
“There you are.”
Ferdinand straightened up, immediately on alert. “I was not hiding. Have you some need of me?”
The other maintained his distance, arms crossed over his chest, his face pinched. He looked tired, Ferdinand realised with a jolt. Was that a new development or was it that he’d simply failed to notice before?
“There is a matter that needs to be brought to your attention,” Hubert responded, the words corseted in formality he thought lost somewhere between the start of the war and the present moment. “But not here.”
