~Deadly feelings~ Hubert x Reader FE3H

Chapter twenty-five: Maquis Vestra.

H 

It was the beginning of the 'lone moon'. A Friday to be exact and it had been a whole week since you left- the word lone made sense to Hubert and if you being gone wasn't enough- Lady Edelgard had ordered him to leave for the Empire to prepare for her takeover. 

"Hubert!"The Black haired man sighed, who needed him now? Turning to see a frantic Dimitri coming rom the stairs in the entrance hall, the dark mage turned around again to continue walking.Blocking out his annoying calls. "C-come now! I must speak with you!" The blonde yelped over monks and soldiers- muttering 'sorry' to anyone he accidently pushed.

The silver iron gates of the market were in sight, just a small bit further and Hubert would be free of this ridded place. He slithered past groups of happy students, workers and sales folk- most pausing to gawk at the feared man.

He was used to the stares, getting them all his life, even his own Father would comment on how absurdly violent his appearance was.

'That haircut doesn't help you, Hubert.'

'Don't be seen too close to the princess looking like that. She's scared of rodents you know.'

Them sentences were usual from his father, his mother never interjected anymore; learning her place years ago. Each time he would look in the mirror he would see it, but each time his father commented on it- he would make an emphasis to exaggerate the looks: leading to no one wanting to marry him, and not even a single friend.

A force snapped Hubert from his thoughts, Dimitri's grasp was harder than expected, there were words saying he was rather heavy handed but nearly pulling Hubert's shoulder from the socket was a bit much.

"Hubert." Dimitri's tone was serious, such a contrast that showed a...darker side. "Where is she? Are you going to see her?" Clearly ___ hadn't written to him, or himself either.

Hubert stiffened at the hand on his shoulder, glaring at the blonde "If she hasn't told you, you don't need to know. Goodbye, Dimitri." he said it matter of factly, shoving the hand off him and turning around again- whispers filling the air at the clear tension between the pair.

"Your horse is waiting for you, Lord Hubert." A trained assassin from the empire was to accompany him to Vestra Manor, from there, Hubert could make plans for the take over in secret from his Father- the Minister of the Imperial household and Prime Minister Aegir. In fact, Emperor Ionius IX probably had no idea what was happening either.

"Yes, alright." The words lingered in the air like a bad smell, would Edelgard be safe without him? For once, Hubert found himself putting his trust in the damned professor. Her life was in his hands.

* * *

Location: Vestra Manor, Adrestia.

Forestry surrounded the bleak building, guards dressed in black armour inspected the carriage, seeing Huber there, they opened the black steel gates which revealed a light dirt path, wider than the one they had previously been traveling on.

Hubert wasn't one for scenery, but it had been nearly a year since he was home- if you could call this home. Leaning his head on the window, the dark oak trees parted both ways to reveal a large manor made up of a depressing grey stone, a grand staircase at the centre and two identical black pillars holding the balcony up over the matching black 10 ft doors. Even the window accents were black. 6Small decorative pools of water lined up on either side of the path- filled with moss and twigs. Not being cleaned in years.

"I've been informed that Marquis Vestra and Lady Vestra are residing inside, sire." The doorman greeted Hubert at the top of the stairs, one small, sad excuse of a bag being handed to him via the assassin.

'Of course they are.'

No need to reply, Hubert walked right past the man and through the open doors, no one being there to greet him as usual- the stories Ferdinand would tell when they were younger made him jealous, Ferdinand always had some sort of warm greeting. Even if it was from the staff.

Vestra Manor was what most would expect, glum, depressing and cold. Despite the money the household had- no one spent time to pay for wood for a fire; one time, when he was twelve, Hubert payed for the wood himself. Earning a scolding as expected and a bruise on his arm.

Now he was used to the cold.

A red carpet with old, musty patterns ran through the 'grand' hall, at the end was a dark wooden staircase- coated in the same carpet which sat on the centre of the steps. To his left was the main room- where families would sit and drink tea, talk and enjoy time together. That was the least used room in Vestra Manor, going in there now would give one automatic asthma due to the dust.

Hubert looked down the wide entrance room, smaller rooms attached to the left and right of him. Knowing exactly where the Marquis was, Hubert walked up the stairs instead of past them, perhaps no one would inform his father on his return.

Each step creaked under his black boot, after long attempts when he was small; Hubert knew where to step to avoid such noises but didn't feel the need to do such a thing at his age.

"Hubert." 

'Fuck.' 

He instantly regretted not scaling the stairs more carefully, or even taking the servants stairs for that matter. He took a deep breath, fists clenched and throat closing up.

"Father." it came out as a choke, instantly giving off weakness to the one person he didn't want to fear. The young man did a 180, holding the wooden banister for support as identical green eyes met. 

"Why are you back?" Maquis Vestra was blunt like his son, by visual looks alone, he seemed to be nearing fifty years of age and had very short, brown hair and wrinkled green eyes. Hubert took the black hair from his mother.

"On the request of her Highness, I decline to answer any of your prying questions."

"Such an irksome man you have turned out to be." The Marquis grumbled, waving a hand at his son. "Stay out of my hair, Hubert. I need no interruptions."

"With what's left of your hair, I doubt I could."

"You bastard-" The man raised his hand, teeth grinding in annoyance to his sons comment.

"Keep your itching fingers in your pocket, I am no longer a child you can beat to a pulp." Hubert spat, his Father disgusted him in all ways. Such a low level man he never wanted you to meet.

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Hallo~

I hope these aren't getting boring since they will be sat in each of your POV's but that's what I gotta doooo.

I'll probably bring you back in to see Hubert soon as I hate writing when you're apart- it ain't as fun.

FHQ- 'I am no longer a child you can beat to a pulp.'

 **(Itching fingers is an old Elizabethan phrase meaning you wish to cause harm to someone, physically. It's a good quote from Romeo and Juliet- yes I read Shakespeare, leave me be.)