#dancer hubert

Edelgard knew this. When he stepped so close to her that the front of his jacket brushed the back of hers, she automatically slowed her pace and shifted her stance so that he could remain there: a shadow just behind her left shoulder. It meant that any threat would be hard-pressed to separate them, that he was taking the place of the shield that she would carry only on the battlefield, that with hardly a moment's notice he could use the teleportation spell that he'd spent years honing in secret, and move her to safety.

It also meant that when they stopped at the back of the lineup to await their turn at the front counter, he could easily dip his head close to hers and mutter a few words in her ear.

"More eyes are on you than usual, I think." Hubert caught a few glances thrown their way even as he said it. Had some part of their plan been uncovered? The Flame Emperor had been busy as of late, and despite all of their efforts to distance Edelgard from that persona, there was no telling what infinitesimal detail they might have overlooked that would tip somebody off. Or was movement in the Empire starting to reach noble ears, raising questions about the future emperor?

Edelgard reached up to fix one of the ribbons in her hair so that she could easily turn her head to the side and survey the room. After a moment, her head bumped gently against Hubert's jaw. "I don't think it's me they're looking at."

"What do you--" a series of particularly loud giggles drew Hubert's attention to the door on the opposite side of the hall. A trio of students were clustered conspiratorially together. One of them -- Hilda Goneril, judging by the pink hair -- popped her head up and looked directly at him, grinning wickedly.

"Oh. Oh no." The way that Hubert's blood ran cold, one would think that being caught conspiring against the church would be a preferable alternative. At least heresy was a crime that Hubert could be <i>proud</i> of.

Edelgard stared blankly ahead, her voice just loud enough for Hubert to hear over the din of the hall. "It seems that word of our chosen candidate has spread quickly."

"It is not too late for me to poison today's meal," Hubert offered weakly.

"Far too late, I'm afraid. Half the students have already finished." From where Hubert stood behind her, he could see the corner of Edelgard's mouth twitch in amusement.

He endured the slow, meandering pace of the lunch line, sharply aware of every muttering voice, every tittering laugh echoing throughout the crowded hall, certain that each one of them was directed his way. It was some minutes before he realized that he was still pressed defensively close to Edelgard, as if the mere stares of other students qualified as a deadly threat. She had made no move to pull away either, as if sensing that perhaps this was now a matter of Hubert's own reassurance.

When they finally reached the front of the line, he blindly grabbed at the first plate he saw regardless of its contents and turned to march toward their usual table, only to be met with the sight of Ferdinand von Aegir engaged in a lively chat with the Gloucester heir. Hubert hardly understood how anybody could stand the pompous Leicester noble, but somehow Ferdinand's smile was bright as ever.

"Traitorous gossip," Hubert muttered.

"Not necessarily," Edelgard said, breezing past him to find a seat. "Let us gain confirmation that he is the source of our troubles before we contemplate our method of execution."

Even with the anxious fury brewing in Hubert's chest, he released a chuckle. "As you wish, Lady Edelgard."

There were no designated house tables in the dining hall, given that it was a space used by all Garreg Mach residents, students and knights and clergy alike. Meal times were one of the few regular occasions when the houses could mingle, and social butterflies like Ferdinand and Dorothea took full advantage of that.

It had come as some surprise, then, only a few days into the start of the school year, when some of the Black Eagles had started gravitating toward the distant corner that he and Edelgard always seated themselves in. It had been an unspoken assumption between the two of them, that their classmates would be relieved to be rid of their presence between class times. It was almost a certainty that the other students would not choose to prolong their time with the future emperor and her dreary attendant.

How shocking it had been, the first time Caspar dropped his tray next to Hubert and started shouting something about a fight he'd just come from before he'd even finished sitting down. When Linhardt drifted sleepily over soon after. When Petra excitedly pushed a book in front of Edelgard to tell her about her history reading. Once or twice Bernadetta even ventured into the dining hall in the quieter hours, and latched onto the two of them as a lone source of familiarity in the otherwise chaotic space. Even Dorothea and Ferdinand found time to join them.

It was seldom that all of them gathered at once. Black Eagles trickled in and out of their orbit, sometimes staying only long enough to steal something from each other's plates before fleeing, but it seemed to now be tradition for some of them to always be waiting in that same designated corner for Edelgard and Hubert.

Today they found Linhardt already napping there with his head on the table, while Caspar rapidly shovelled the remainder of both their lunches into his mouth.

"Hey!" Caspar shouted through a mouthful. "Is it true Hubert's planning to poison the other contestants?"

Edelgard primly took her seat across from Linhardt, leaving Hubert the unfortunate position of witnessing Caspar's open-mouth chewing at close range. "I don't recall any such plan," she said. "Where did you hear such a ghastly idea?"

Caspar paused long enough in his food-shovelling to swallow some of it. "Oh, I overheard Ingrid talking about it on the training grounds. I didn't know that sort of thing was allowed for dance competitions."

So that was both rival houses now aware of Hubert's entry into the competition. He glanced past Caspar's shoulder to see Dorothea with Ingrid and Sylvain. Surely his tutor was not responsible for this treachery -- no, not even with the slightly too loud giggle that rang out every time Ingrid said something. Dorothea's flirtations were as calculated as any strategist's. She would not so easily lose her head, no matter how pretty her enemy's face.

"I would very much like to know who has taken it upon themselves to reveal our plans to the entire academy," Hubert growled.

Caspar shrugged. "Not me. Does it really matter? Everyone would have found out eventually anyway, right?"

"I would have preferred..." Hubert fumbled for some reasonable way to finish that sentence. He would have preferred for it to be a secret that he carried to his grave, but that was hardly a logical position to state out loud. "A more tactical reveal," he finally stated.

A sound emanated from the depths of Linhardt's arms, inside of which his face was buried, that could have been mistaken for a snore if it were not followed up with words. "What sort of tactics did you have in mind? Were you planning on preserving your anonymity through the competition? Perhaps you could have turned out all the lights and had the judges witness your performance only by the sound of your feet?"

Hubert glared uselessly at the green mop of Linhardt's hair, knowing his ire was going unseen and unremarked. "I was not, but please inform me if you have any other ideas of this calibre."

"Regardless of whether this was the plan or not, we can make use of this." Edelgard's pale eyes had that sharp look to them as she watched the other students move about the hall. It was a look that told Hubert she was already formulating a plan, and therefore a look that eased his nerves considerably more than any attempts to comfort him would have.

"You believe so?"

She directed her attention down to her plate, letting her empty fork play close to her mouth so that it would be more difficult for others to read her lips. Edelgard took everything deadly seriously, including a school competition. Especially a school competition. "Our opponents believe your entry into this contest is a joke? Let them go on believing that. It is better to be underestimated, is it not?"

Hubert's frown remained where it was. This was not, evidently, a plan that involved fleeing Garreg Mach or locking himself in Abyss until the competition was over with. "That is true."

"Besides," Edelgard directed a proud smirk at him. "If the other houses want to believe that we must <i>cheat</i> to best them, then they are only revealing their own weaknesses."

Hubert found himself slightly disappointed to learn that cheating was an option that they would not be choosing to take. "Even so, I am concerned that our class is apparently incapable of keeping even so small a secret. Perhaps our professor can lead a lesson on discretion."

Edelgard perked up. "Ah, well we can ask them about that right now. Hello, my teacher."

Byleth drifted through the crush of students in the same calm, self-assured way that they did everything, taking their seat beside Caspar. "Hello. Ask about what?"

Linhardt shifted so that a single eye could be seen peering out from the dark crevice between his arms and his bangs. "Hubert thinks you might help him teach his way out of being the subject of salacious gossip."

Byleth blinked slowly at Linhardt while Hubert quietly stabbed at the roast pheasant on his plate, realizing too late the mistake he had made in blindly accepting the first dish he had spotted. It was smothered in tooth-achingly sweet berry reduction, making it fit only as the subject of his frustration. Edelgard came to the rescue. "What he means to say is that it seems the entire academy is already aware that Hubert is our candidate, and we are not sure who has revealed it to the other houses."

"Oh." Byleth nodded before scooping up a forkful of mashed turnip. "I did."

Hubert paused in eviscerating his lunch. "Ah. Betrayed by the very top. I should have predicted it."

Byleth tilted their head. "Should I not have? Professor Manuela said she needed to know."

Linhardt yawned. "Ah, out-maneuvered by the songstress. We should have seen that coming."

"My teacher," Edelgard said tactfully, "did you happen to ask her who the other contestants might be?"

Byleth regarded her. "Should I have?"

"It might help. After all, when devising a strategy, it is always best to know who your opponents are, is it not?"

"I suppose that is true," their professor answered calmly, without any hint of awareness that they were being gently chastised. "I will ask her next time I see her."

Edelgard sighed. "I suppose we'll have no choice but to wait for you to report back."

"No need," Dorothea chimed in, drifting into the conversation as if she had been there all along. She squatted down at the end of the table, elbows planting between Edelgard and Linhardt's plates and chin resting on her hands. "Sylvain is more than happy to brag to any girl within earshot that he's representing the Lions. To hear him tell of it, he's been a dancing prodigy since the moment he learned how to walk."

"And is he?" Edelgard prompted, never wasting an opportunity to gather intel.

Dorothea laughed, before she noticed the serious look on Edelgard's face. "Edie, bragging is just what Sylvain does. I don't think he's told a single true story about himself in his life. The guy is all charm and no substance, trust me. He might get a few points for his smile, but I doubt he'll bring much more than that."

"Then that is one advantage that the Blue Lions have over us," chimed in Linhardt's muffled voice. "Our candidate has a smile that could make the goddess herself weep."

"Truly, your gifts of observation are breathtaking as always," Hubert grumbled, knowing that it was hardly inaccurate. Sylvain Jose Gautier was the sort of person who oozed charm merely by existing. A single wink from that charismatic redhead could easily overshadow all other factors of a performance. A wink from Hubert would more likely be mistaken for a threat.

Edelgard's focus had not wavered from Dorothea's smiling face. The Empire's future ruler sensed a threat to their success, and Hubert knew by the way her lips pursed that she would not be satisfied until she saw a method of neutralizing that threat. "I want to be certain. Do you think you could gather more intel about his ability?"

Dorothea smiled indulgently back at her, tilting her head so that the long curls of her hair tumbled down her arms over the edge of the table. "Oh, Edie. Getting nobility to talk too much is what I do."

It was remarkable how Edelgard softened in the face of that smile. Hubert had so rarely seen her gain reassurance from anybody other than himself. He once again felt a swell of gratitude toward Dorothea. "Alright," Edelgard conceded. "I will trust in your abilities on that front."

"Then that deals with the more straightforward of our opposition," muttered Hubert.

Caspar paused in his eager consumption of his third lunch (Hubert's). "How is any of that straightforward?"

Edelgard did not even need to check with Hubert before answering. She knew his thought process well. "Because the Blue Lions are the most straightforward of the classes. They approach every threat exactly the same way: directly and forcefully. Once we know their candidate's skill and style, they will become a predictable foe. The same cannot be said for the Golden Deer."

"Claude von Riegen does nothing without some scheme," Hubert muttered. The thought suddenly occurred to him that perhaps all these rumors about his own plans to do harm to the judges or other contestants might be intentionally helped along by somebody who would benefit from them. How easy would it be for Claude to slip something into Sylvain's drink the day of the competition and watch as all eyes turned to Hubert when the poison became apparent?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an unmistakable voice thundering above the din. "Oh yes, it is quite thrilling. I've not seen the school this fired up since the mock battle. Of course, were I our class's representative..." Ferdinand, having apparently gotten his fill of treasonous gossip, was nearing their table with Petra. How she tolerated his bluster was a mystery to Hubert.

"Well you're not, Ferdie, so you can stop complaining about that any day now." Dorothea had perched herself on the corner of the table next to Linhardt's head, thus fully designating the area as unfit for food consumption at this time. Linhardt made no complaint of this, taking the opportunity to treat Dorothea's hip as an additional pillow.

Ferdinand frowned at her as he claimed a seat beside the Professor. In an act of small mercies, this meant that Petra moved to sit beside Hubert instead. "I was only going to say that I would have chosen to announce my candidacy immediately. Is it not something to be proud of?" He fixed Hubert with a gleaming smile that made Hubert contemplate how far into the depths of Abyss he would need to fall to escape it. "You must be excited by it, surely."

Hubert found himself wishing that he had not sacrificed his plate to Caspar's appetite so that he would have some excuse to look anywhere other than that dazzling expression. "My excitement knows no limits."

"Ferdinand," Edelgard leaned toward him. "You're friendly with the Gloucester boy, aren't you? What have you learned about the Golden Deer's plans?"

Ferdinand's chest immediately swelled with pride. "How right of you to value my insights into this matter. Why of course Lorenz would have been a prime candidate for this contest, but he tells me he humbly declined the offer to represent his house. Worry not, for you shall have a worthy opponent, Hubert. The Golden Deer are putting forth Miss Marianne von Edmund to represent them."

Blank expressions and quietly exchanged looks were all that met Ferdinand's announcement. Caspar finally voiced what much of the table must have been thinking: "Which one's that again?"

"Daughter of Margrave Edmond, correct?" Edelgard looked to Hubert for confirmation, though his returned nod was unnecessary. The two of them had poured over class lists in the weeks leading up to their arrival at Garreg Mach, gathering all the intel they could about their future classmates. Margrave Edmond was well known, but his daughter remained all but a mystery, even now. Hubert had investigated her, found only a shy creature who hardly spoke, and passed her over as likely a harmless noblewoman with little interest in political affairs. Now he cursed himself for not considering her possible importance sooner.

"Oh," Linhardt finally deigned to lift his head from the table. "The one without a crest. Allegedly." There was a glimmer in his eye that Hubert recognized as scholarly fervor, and he wondered if Linhardt would be sleeping through tomorrow's class after once again losing himself in an all-night study session. "A very interesting girl, that one."

"For once, possessing a crest or not is not relevant to this competition," Edelgard said crisply, heading off whatever new theory was bubbling in Linhardt's mind. "Ferdinand, do you know anything about the Edmond girl? Will she pose a significant threat?"

Ferdinand beamed again at the attention. Two questions from Edelgard in a row must have been the highlight of his day, Hubert mused. How exciting for him to be able to show off in front of his imagined rival. "I admit that I do not know her well. She keeps to herself quite a bit. But you will not find a more gentle soul. I suspect that she has quite a bit of talent hidden away."

"Rather unlike Von Riegan to choose someone so reticent." Hubert found himself frowning. "What game is he playing?"

"Why should he be playing a game?" Petra asked. "Perhaps he is choosing for skill."

"Perhaps so," he admitted, not at all convinced. Hubert thought that he should have been reassured to have his opponents' names in his arsenal now. No battle was won without intel, after all. But somehow the knowledge made the competition more than just some distant, theoretical goal. There were other people involved now. People who would bear witness to whatever foolish performance he presented.

The noise and the imagined stares of the crowded hall suddenly became too much. Hubert stood. "It seems that I have little time to dally here. By your leave, Lady Edelgard."

She met his eyes, frowning at him in concern. Whatever the source of that concern was, however, he knew she could be relied upon not to expose it in front of others. "Of course," she simply said, dismissing him.

Hubert gave her a brief, grateful bow before making for the hall's rear exit, out into the courtyard gardens. A few students milled about in the bright afternoon sunshine, but they paid Hubert little mind as he attempted to duck into the shadows.

"Hubert, wait!"

It was a rare occasion when Hubert cursed his height. Were he Lady Edelgard, he could simply slip between the hedges and vanish with dignity. Unfortunately, there would be no escaping the sound of Ferdinand von Aegir calling his name unless he wished to dive fully behind the shrubbery, a plan that he was not certain he should discard just yet. Ferdinand was jogging across the grass with a brightly triumphant expression that told Hubert that he would be better off picking leaves out of his hair than listening to whatever came next.

"Listen!" Ferdinand came to a halt before Hubert, and he had the nerve to hardly even sound winded by the effort that it had taken him to catch up. "There's more that I've learned about what to anticipate at the competition. Lorenz learned from Professor Manuela that participants may choose the style of dance they utilize, but the judges traditionally favor the waltz. Though this year one of the previous judges has been replaced by the knight Shamir, so her tastes may be a little more--"

"Ferdinand," Hubert interrupted what was clearly going to become a long lecture. "Is there a reason that you are here to tell me all of this?"

Ferdinand's smile persisted, brighter than the horrid midday sun overhead. "Why, I am helping you assess the competition, of course! We must utilize all the tools we have at our disposal if we are to triumph. Besides, a noble like me would never stand idly by without lending my expertise. Now, if you haven't yet chosen a style, I suggest..."

"Oh, I see now," Hubert interjected, his voice turning low and silky. "Yes, how foolish of me not to predict that your bruised ego would be in need of salve. You think that by meddling, you might be able to claim some of the Black Eagle's victory for yourself."

Few things brought Hubert satisfaction like the shade of red that crept into Ferdinand's face, lighting up his freckles like embers, whenever Hubert managed to find the limits of his temper. It made the redhead look less like a fiery sun god and more like a furious Mortifs plum. "Excuse me? I am merely trying to help you! It is my duty as your classmate to lend you my support."

Hubert snorted. "How very altruistic. Offering your services to me? That is positively <i>noble</i> of you." Where before Hubert was hoping to flee from the sight of Ferdinand, now he closed the gap between them. As though the grassy field were a ballroom, and the sounds of chatter drifting out of the dining hall overlaid with an orchestra. If he wished, he could have taken Ferdinand by the waist and led him in a waltz to that unheard music.

Ferdinand watched him in confusion, hesitating between his anger and this odd reversal on Hubert's part.

"Careful," Hubert said lowly. "If I am indeed the victor, I may be forced to dance in your vicinity."

"Why, I believe that is the point!" Ferdinand replied, his voice beginning to bolster once again. "You should be proud of your victory, and we as a class will share in your triumph."

"Is that so? You, Ferdinand von Aegir, would be seen dancing with one such as myself?"

Somehow, the redhead's smile did not waver. "Of course! Any would be honoured to join you in a dance, Hubert."

"Ah, I see." Hubert smiled as he moved in for the kill, tilting his head ever so slightly to whisper into Ferdinand's ear. "And now I know what lies you would stoop to, Ferdinand. We both know you would not endure being seen with a skittering cockroach such as myself."

And there, Ferdinand's face once again changed color before Hubert's eyes. Rather than the dark red flush of anger, the color instead rushed from his face, leaving him pale and stammering. "I… I would never…"

"Never say such things?" Hubert chuckled. "How amusing. The prime minister's son needs to work on his delivery, I think. The lie seems to be sticking in your throat." With a final smirk, Hubert left him there in the sunny courtyard, triumphant that he had finally stunned Ferdinand into silence.