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"Are you comfortable?"
"Yes."
"Do you need anything else?"
"Certainly not."
"Please, tell me if you do, I am always at your disposal."
"I know that, Hubert."
Hubert let out a sigh, closing the curtains of her window. Tapping a foot on the floor, he merely looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. Edelgard, in contrast, had sat up in her bed, wearing only her nightclothes, a fine lavender gown, leaving her shoulders practically bare.
That much was enough to show a few faded scars, from one or another stray arrow or blow that not even faith magic had managed to fully heal. Hubert tried to not think about the thinner, silvery marks, the ones that no battle had given her. Even if he had squashed the threat that lurked in the dark long ago, they still reared their ugly head from time to time.
Unaware of his musings, Edelgard tilted her head to the side, the candle's flame casting shadows in her ivory hair, violet eyes appraising Hubert. Time had taught him to not squirm under her gaze, but, that particular time, he couldn't avoid a roll of his shoulders.
Regardless, it apparently didn't matter at all, because soon Edelgard scoffed a laugh, her fingers fidgeting with the covers.
"And to say that this is the same man who would cut a path in blood for me."
Oh?
"Six months of retirement and you already consider me a harmless puppy."
Hubert turned around, crossing his arms in feigned resentment. Edelgard, in contrast, raised an eyebrow, settling closer to the edge.
"Do you think you haven't changed? If nothing else, you are certainly fussier than before and you were already fussy to begin with."
Now that caught him by surprise. Even though the window was firmly closed, Hubert felt a chilly wind on his spine. It must have be his cowardice, the urge to answer her questions with silence, to ignore what he couldn't face. As if to just stall for time, he scooted closer, pulling a chair to sit near her. His eyes scanned the room – bare, especially for a former Emperor, but, at Edelgard's insistence, there was little to be seen.
Bookshelves, her bed, a table, a pair of chairs. A pendulum clock, perched near the window, just tall enough so she still could reach. A wardrobe, which had few clothes, mostly garbs that she preferred to wear at home or for training and riding. The few things that made the room distinctively hers were in the nightstand, hidden from everyone's eyes. He couldn't blame her for it – Hubert himself did much of the same to his own room – but, sometimes, he admitted that he wanted to give her more pomp, more comfort. Alas, it had been her choice.
And she was still waiting for his response.
Hubert fidgeted with his hands – odd, bony fingers that weren't used to be so exposed, no gloves to hide the blood staining his palms – before letting out a huff. Long ago, he had promised to not hide anything from her.
"I'm not sure myself," he murmured, closing his eyes as if that would avoid her reaction. Before she could comment on it, Hubert continued. "And what about you? Do you think you changed?"
Silence. Nothing but the sounds of nature outside, the vague buzz of insects, the distant flap of wings. And the clock, that unending tick-tock as the pendulum swing back and forth. Hubert clenched his jaw, his eyes darting back to Edelgard. She tapped a finger on her chin, blinking slowly. Her legs were drawn closer to her body, one hand resting on her calf.
"I grew older. I suppose that is a change on its own. But, as for everything else, I admit that I can't point out exactly."
"Neither can I."
"Good."
As quickly as it was brought up, the subject was unceremoniously dropped, leaving an empty silence on its stead. The clock kept ticking, indifferent to the woes of a man who seemed unable to keep conversation with the one person he cared for the most. An owl hooted outside. An ill omen, as some say. Owls bring misfortune, that was what the superstition said, not that he was much of a believer, but it still made a chill run up his spine.
He huffed. Just nature's noise, so rare back in Enbarr, now it was all that they could hear. Still, even if the sounds were somewhat inconvenient to Hubert most days, during that particular instance, it was better than the awkwardness of their current situation.
In contrast, Edelgard seemed almost unfazed by awkwardness, her gaze focused on some perfectly uninteresting dark corner. As time passed, Hubert shifted on his seat. He could go, but she hadn't issued an order, nor had given him any sign that she was about to sleep.
His thin brows furrowed. Of course she hadn't. They weren't Emperor and Minister anymore. They weren't even lady and servant anymore. They merely lived together. She didn't need to issue him an order to go, he was the one supposed to understand the cue.
"My lady," he said, almost biting his tongue. "If you will allow me, I will retire for the night as well."
Her eyes shifted to his, clear lavender reflecting the light of the candle. In nights like that, he couldn't help but see her flames, sparking within, even if the fuel for the fire was long gone – that firewood so brutally forced upon her, enough to set ablaze an entire continent. Nothing but fantasies. Hubert clenched his jaw, waiting for her response.
"Wait."
Hubert stayed put. Edelgard let out a sigh. The candle's flame trembled. A beat passed, the pendular movement of the clock seemed to swing between forever and never. Her eyes shifted back to his, maintaining eye contact as if appraising him as one would do to an animal. As time went on, he could picture her reaching out to him, tapping his flanks as if to inspect his resilience and submission. Before the image could linger for longer in Hubert's mind, her eyes darted back to a pile of books on the nightstand.
"Stay here."
Hubert blinked. The "why" hesitated on the tip of his tongue. For a moment, he thought about asking, inquiring, putting up resistance, but something stopped him. A gut feeling that she would pull back if he did, that she would tell him to forget that she had even asked it of him. One of those moments of vulnerability that she rarely displayed, even if she seemed particularly propense to it during that night.
Regardless, he said no more as he sat down on her bed, next to her, the mattress shifting with weight as they moved to accommodate the new presence. His hands stayed clamped to his thighs, his back straight like an arrow, his feet solid on the floor. If she noticed his tense posture, however, Edelgard didn't comment on it, sparing him the questioning. Instead, she moved over him, picking up the book on top of the pile.
Hubert suppressed a grimace. Reading by candlelight. While he was guilty of that himself, he couldn't help but worry, thinking about how candles could be too much of a strain to one's eyes. She didn't need to make it worse on herself. A few seconds passed before his eyes darted back to her. She was leaning back, her head tilted slightly to the side as she tried to make do with the few candles they had lit in the room. Hubert was half-leaning on the headboard by then and, slowly, he took off each of his boots using his feet, keeping them lined up beside the bed.
He shifted around, vexed by the whole situation, but he couldn't help his own overprotective urges.
"I would heavily recommend against reading by candlelight, my lady."
She snickered but otherwise ignored his remark, continuing reading as she answered him.
"No need for titles, we both know that. Also, talk about the pot calling the kettle black."
"My point remains."
He glanced at her over his shoulder, just to see her staring back at him with a raised eyebrow. It lasted only a moment before she dropped her gaze to the book once more. No use fighting it then. Crossing his arms, Hubert mentally made a check-list of the things he still had to do the next day.
There were supplies to take care of, as they were just halfway through the Wyvern Moon, time to settle in for the upcoming winter. Also, there were mounts to be checked so they were ready in case of an emergency and firewood to be stacked–
A small, warm hand touched his back. It lingered there, hesitating, so quiet and featherlike that Hubert almost thought he had imagined it, half-dream and half-hallucination of a man who had fantasized about similar situations one too many times when he was young, full of rage and full of libido.
"Hmph. No matter how long it passes, my nightmares never relent. If nothing else, they seem to take advantage of my age and my memories to piece together new horrors."
Of course, it always ended very differently in his dreams. He bit back his own remarks, merely glanced at her over his shoulder. Her palm was still flat on his back, but she didn't move a single centimeter more, posture straight as her eyes were completely focused on a single point of the book, barely blinking.
"Even if the candlelight is harmful in any way, I presume it is better than the alternative."
"You still need to sleep," he muttered in response, like some strange deep instinct of protection, instilled inside his heart since youth. He turned around, she pulled her hand back in response, clutching it close to her chest.
"I know." A sigh followed. "And I will. For now, however, I would appreciate your company." A pause. "Spending too long alone, too long without much to distract me inevitably harbors doubts about pretty much anything anyone would otherwise presume to be simply true."
Once again, their conversation staggered as Hubert failed to properly answer her. As such, the pendular movement of the clock continued to tick-tock onward, time passing as they stayed frozen in place. Hubert unsure of what to; Edelgard taking too long to turn the page.
Until her eyes snapped to his and, at last, she asked him directly.
"Could you sit beside me, Hubert?"
The words banged inside his mind like a gong, resonating and trembling deep in his bones. His first thought is to ask, to deny, to run away like the coward he was, to avoid the inevitable conflict it would cause. Still, for the second time that night, Hubert went against his better judgment.
"Of course."
He put his right leg on the bed, their thighs touching. She flinched, but otherwise didn't move, which granted Hubert permission to stretch his other leg as well. A beat passed. More than enough time for Hubert to hesitate, to let loose the defeatist beast that threatened to swallow the miserable fringes of his bravery. An angry creature indeed, demanding Hubert's retreat in the name of duty and respect. Until, of course, Edelgard's lips curled up.
"Thank you, Hubert."
It was only then that he allowed himself to relax, the beast pacified, at least for the time being. And, for a while, he managed to stay like that. Quiet shared solitude, a full moon night, a night for howling wolves and rampant beasts. Nevertheless, as if sharing the same sense of security and safeness that enveloped the pair, the only sounds outside were the crickets and other small insects making themselves known.
Edelgard's presence was a comfort as well. As if the gentle pressure of her thigh against his wasn't enough, warm even through the fabric of her nightgown, her arm was now close to his, silent but very much there. At first, her left hand was settled on the corner of the page, holding the book in place. Dainty fingers, a small hand that still had the silvery, thin threads that only upon close inspection one could see as scars, but that Hubert had seen when they were still raw, living flesh pulsing in pain.
Her hand moved to his thigh.
Hubert froze. Turned to stone, his muscles tensed from his toes all the way up to his face. Her hand did not hesitate, however, snaking down to where their thighs met. Then, she gripped, finding something stiff.
"You still carry your dagger around," she remarked insipidly and Hubert couldn't look her in the eye.
"Yes." His voice was terse, as if even his throat constricted around itself, choking back his own shame. Despite his nervousness – or perhaps because of it – Hubert felt compelled to justify his seemingly senseless action. "The weight is comforting, I suppose. I tried to stay without it, but it never feels safe."
Her hand withdrew, Hubert let out an exhale, unsure of since when he had been holding his breath. In contrast to her relaxed posture, her cheeks were burning red, as if just noticing a faux pas. He does not comment on it, letting Edelgard continue their conversation.
"I presume I am the pot and you are the kettle now. As much as it pains to admit it, some days I miss the clench of my armor and the weight of the crown."
Laughter bubbled out of her throat, granting her a smile, not the kind that illuminated all before her like sunlight, not the kind that was a mocking moonlight of droll irony, but the kind that was crepuscular, teetering between both.
"I speak as if I would enjoy walking around with all of it again. It were terribly inconvenient, but I still find ways of missing it." A pause. She pursed her lips, pondering for a moment. "I would hate to have to wear them again, but my body still didn't catch up to the fact that I don't need them anymore."
"I could say the same."
She let out a puff of laughter through her nose, one that Hubert could only assume to be out of amusement.
"Truly, we are awfully similar in this regard."
Her knuckles brushed his, soft caress like touch of a feather, so light that it almost tickled. But it was there, warm and true. Hubert didn't pull his hand back, letting it stay dutifully on his knee. Speech disappeared into silence. Her forefinger brushed his, tugging, asking for something, he knew what, but he couldn't give in.
Not like that, not when she surely couldn't deem it more than a friend's touch, no more.
Her fingers slithered between his, pulling him closer. She was holding his hand. His thin brows furrowed, his lips pursing, his eyes focused on the pair of hands, before separate, now united. His thoughts swirled, maelstrom spiraling down.
Was this her way of finding comfort during a lonely night? Alone, with only her former servant for months to no end? Certainly, she was the one who invited him – a decision that baffled him to that day – but still, the underlying question, the main question, the why still remained looming in the air, breathing on the back of his neck.
"Your hand is sweaty."
The insipid comment broke the spell. His eyes darted back to her, blinking, disoriented as if he was a wild animal being put on a leash. Her other hand closed the book, now all but forgotten, and her palm was pressed against the cover, a move that he could only assume to be her attempts on keeping it still. Her face, however, was blank, a sharp contrast to their intertwined fingers, her hand so small and soft and scarred in his. A mask. But what they still had to hide?
His lips pressed together in a grimace, his eyes focusing on his own legs immediately.
He heard a huff, felt her leaning on his arm, then on his shoulder. Her thumb toyed with sinew and bone, following the lines along. Out of all parts of his body, his hands had aged the most. Veins protruding blue, pale skin already bearing dark spots. He flinched, she stopped. A beat passed. The air suddenly felt thicker, harder to breath.
Instead of letting the silence last endlessly, however, Hubert spoke up first.
"I don’t think we have changed at all." The words slipped from his lips uninvited.
His first answer was a chuckle. Second, she shed her hesitation, squeezing his hand. Third, finally, she responded, her voice carrying a faint hint of playfulness.
"Truly? As soon as I was starting to think otherwise."
Of course, the mirth reverberating her tone did not ease his nerves. Especially considering her change of mind. His hand twitched under hers.
"Why so?" His attempt at a casual tone failed even for his ears, the last word trembling on his tongue.
"Look at our situation. Would you have stayed twenty years ago? Ten? Or even five years ago?"
"Would you have invited me?"
The responses are snapped at each other, back to back. Part of Hubert still felt like the obedient servant and that part was at ready to scold him for his impudence. Not that he had ever been that tamed. It’s simply the suddenness of his own words, the undeniable conflict. No subterfuge, no elusive plays to mask his intentions. For years, he had deemed such reckless actions counterproductive at best, but, right there, her hand in his, their bodies close, it felt right. She took her time to answer. Hubert gulped hard, his nervousness only easing once she nestled closer to him.
"Ha. Answering a question with a question, are we?" It was a whisper, a truce. One that he would gladly take.
"It is a stalemate then."
Silence fell again. Unlike the other times earlier the night, however, this one was simpler. Warmer. No thickness of air or tension of shoulders. Hubert furrowed his brows. To think they were talking about times long gone just a few moments prior! He knows he should say something, not let the moment drop, but, after many years of unspoken feelings, buried beneath secrecy and secretiveness, Hubert found out that perhaps he never quite learned how to speak of such things.
Instead, what slipped out of his mouth was a dry phrase.
"Do you want me to… "
“Yes.”
A hushed whisper, a puff of hot breath on his neck. What was she was saying yes to? Doesn’t matter. Better not to think of such things. Instead, Hubert disentangled his hand from hers, turning on his side and slipping out of the bed. Understandably, his right side suddenly felt much colder than before, if only for the contrast. He did not look back. In fact, only then Hubert notices that he had been avoiding to look at her at all for the last few minutes. The clock’s tick-tock rang louder, if only for a moment.
Ignoring the tight sensation inside his chest, Hubert put out the candles one by one. When he was done, the darkness had almost consumed the room, but not fully. No, never fully. If only for the pale beams of moonlight through the slips of the curtain, there was still some light in there and it takes only a few moments for his eyes to adapt again.
Edelgard was just an outline, slim and tucked beneath the covers. Easy to see that she was laying on her side, her head resting on the pillow. The same way, it was clear that she was looking directly at him.
For the third time that night, Hubert’s better judgment flared inside his chest and, for the third time that night, Hubert ignored it. Slowly walking towards her, he only stopped when his shins hit the edge of the bed. He reached to the hidden pocket near his thigh, untangling the dagger out of it and placing it on the nightstand with a dull thump. By then, there was no doubt that she was following him with her eyes. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he offered her his hand, barely leaning in. An offering. A plea as well. She answered accordingly, grabbing his wrist instead of his hand.
Only then, he notices that her fingers were barely long enough to circle his thin wrist.
Hubert exhaled, without even noticing when he started holding his breath. Very well. He slid one knee on the bed, laying on his side, taking the space she granted him. Once he is beneath the covers, his knees and feet brush hers and she flinched. A cold hand gripped his heart. Before he could pull back, Edelgard’s hand clutched his shirt.
“Cold feet,” she muttered under her breath and the sheer banality of the situation was enough to make him scoff a laugh, which was soon cut short as she slid her feet against his.
For a moment, it seemed like she wanted to say more. He could see it easily, in the slight raise of her shoulders, the hitched breath. It does not come to fruition and she exhaled, shifting in place. What followed instead was Edelgard turning her around, with her back turned towards Hubert. Confusion bled into his expression,despite the fact that he knew that she couldn’t see it.
His moment of uncertainty lasted little. Without sparing him a glance, she made a gesture with her hand, her fingers curling in an unmistakable message. Come here.
Before hesitation could take a hold of him again, he heed her call. Very well then. If that's what she wished for, he would be happy to oblige. He shifted closer, her back pressed against his chest. Warm, warmth of someone else’s body. His arm draped over her ribs, his forearm pulling her closer, settling just below her breasts. She shifted around, but it was no more than accommodating, settling herself in a position that she liked.
Her fingers caressed the fine hairs of his arm. Back and forth, soothing, but if she was attempting to calm him or herself, Hubert couldn’t tell. Perhaps she could hear the fast tempo of his heart. Regardless, something inside his mind was tugging him, pleading for him to say something. Anything. To untangle the mess inside his heart and offer her a word of comfort or of love.
Time continued ticking, however, and the chain that locked his heart proved itself to be more than he could handle. Rusty, messy, mangled. Too much. A lump formed in his throat.
“Edelgard... ” he trailed off, unable to decide where to go. In the end, Hubert resigned himself to his fate. “Goodnight.”
She spared him no answer. Her breathing was steady, even. Asleep. With a sigh, he quieted down as well. Even if she fell asleep quickly, Hubert would only manage to give in to exhaustion once the first rays of sunlight appeared.