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cranehusbands · 11 months

Text

between the lines

claude von riegan/hubert von vestra; post crimson flower; pre-relationship courting; first kisses; establishing relationship; no cws.

a/n: day 3 give it up for day 3! my wifi is being doo doo so idk if i can keep up with posting every day in my timezone but!! an attempt will be made. i hope you enjoy <3

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated!

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

“Can you believe the nerve of some of those guys?” It was all rather dramatic, the way Claude stormed into the room, sitting at his desk with a huff of indignation. The door behind him was left wide open for a moment, warm Almyran air drifting into the rather large office, before a shadow seemed to follow in, and close the door with a click.

“They certainly are intent on playing the long con, your majesty.” Hubert slowly slipped his hand off of the doorknob, returning it to behind his back as he almost glided through the room to the same desk the king now sat at, in all his usual grace and silence.

“And they all think I'm too stupid to see it- honestly, sometimes it's like I never left Fódlan.” The exhaustion in his voice seeped through like leaks in a well-loved piece of pottery, cracked and splintered but still beautiful nonetheless. He ran his hand down his face as he leaned back into his chair, fingers parting to watch the way his guest settled into a seat in front of his desk, almost getting lost in the way he practically sunk into the plush cushions, and though the Marquis was the picture of controlling one's emotions, it was subtle movements and gestures that told Claude that his frustrations with his court were being met in kind, in the slight grimace and the twitch of a hand ready to strike at nothing like a viper in a cage. And that was something that, despite the exhaustion the meeting with his ministers had left him with, Claude couldn’t help but smile from behind his hand.

This had hardly been the initial plan. A visit by the Imperial Minister across the border was a rarity indeed, and while Hubert had come to Almyra for a more important reason than niceties- the solidification of policies for alliance proposed by the emperor, relayed through her most trusted dog, who had done so without question or complaint- Claude had intended to leave business mostly at the door. Edelgard had sent word ahead of her Marquis’ arrival to the border, so, while unusual, the arrival of the king to collect his guest himself hadn't been too much of a surprise, and had passed with little fanfare, and minimal conversation above the expected jovial barbs and digs he'd come to expect from Hubert. Claude had been hoping to steal him away, for a time, before they had to get on with business, but almost as soon as he'd arrived back to the palace, he had been accosted with a surprise summon by a few of the nobles and richer merchants residing within the areas surrounding the capital. And though apologetic, he had been dismissed by Hubert, who had chosen to go along to the meeting, regardless of whether it concerned the personal affairs of his country and his emperor. So he, too, had borne witness to the disaster such a meeting had been- men with money and power that had made them too thick-headed and stubborn to take no for an answer when they couldn't have more of either of those things. It's a mirror of years spent wrangling the alliance, just long enough to survive a siege on Derdriu, but not long enough to finally bring together nobles of conflicting wants and needs.

Not that he exactly mourned such a thing, now- losing the Alliance had been a blow to his pride, at the time, fleeing across the border to Almyra with nothing but a wyvern and the heavy weight of regret, but it had led to something far closer to what he’d always wanted. Taking the throne of Almyra had been a struggle, but once he had, Edelgard had been more than willing to start an allyship, putting her in contact with her most trusted Marquis when she was unavailable, still trying to piece her own country back together as a young ruler after five years of struggling and fighting to get there. They were alike, in that regard, and perhaps Claude was thankful for it- and thankful for her minister, though it had taken a while to get that far, beyond the beginnings of stony and stiff correspondence. Over time, however, that had melted away, giving into something almost… playful, if Claude could read the tone right. They rarely spoke candidly, but when they did, it was hidden away in codes and puzzles, to keep their personal conversations away from prying eyes- talks of themselves, of their thoughts and feelings on the present, of past regrets and hopes for the future. Things the king had found riveting, that had kept him coming back and pressing for more, and things that the usually cagey Marquis had offered up willingly, multiple times over, and over the months their letters had gone back and forth, penned almost as soon as one was received, despite their busy work lives.

But then there was the curious shift that their more recent communications had taken. It was a subtle change, one Claude had to double-take when he’d first seen it, a few months before. But, if the king knew one thing about the man he was speaking with, far more casually than ought to be allowed for the two of them, it was that Hubert never did things by accident. The flourishes of his usually steady hand, each word perfectly twisted and catered to invoke an image in the mind of its recipient, but in such a way that it was perhaps in a haze; you could even go so far as to call such things thinly veiled flirtations, if it was even possible for such a thing to come from Hubert to begin with. Looking at him, straight-faced and thin-lipped with eyes like a viper, you wouldn’t think he had it in him. But as Claude looked still at Hubert through his fingers, he considered this again, watching the Marquis sit and wait for command, or for their own meeting to finally progress forward. Maybe there could be something there, if he was willing to try and look for it.

He thought back to a letter, he had received earlier in the month, still watching Hubert sit as straight as a board- It’s been rather odd, missing your voice when I long thought it to be a nuisance. My trip to Almyra shall be one I am most certainly looking forward to. I hope your witticism will be well worth the trip across the border, your majesty, for it’s been difficult to find things to entertain myself with as of late.

Claude brought his hand down his face and rested it against the desk, avoiding staring more openly at his guest as he reached over to thumb through some papers to his left, enough to catch Hubert’s attention at a glance.

“Well, enough about my woes. Let’s do what you came here to do, shall we?”

He was regarded for a moment with something close to curiosity, but eventually, he was given Hubert’s full attention with a curt nod.

Their meeting thereafter continued as normal- well, normal for the two of them, perhaps. All biting wit and scathing remarks, a back and forth more refreshing than the early morning breeze taken in in silence, and better for Claude’s keen mind than a meeting room with noblemen who thought themselves too smart to hide their true intentions. It was never in hostility, however- the snake’s tongue was not spitting venom in his direction, and multiple times had he caught Hubert smirking through exchanges at his expense over trade dealings between their two countries. Maybe that had something to do with the wine that had been shared between them at some point, a fine imported bottle from vineyards at the border, maybe acquired just for the occasion- Claude would never say- and two glasses from the highest shelf, expertly crafted and perfectly weighted in one’s hand. Or maybe he just appreciated the company- it certainly seemed that way, with prolonged glances that were caught over the course of the first hour, with a touch of something in those citrine eyes that seemed to stare deep into Claude’s soul, making him bare. It hadn’t always been like that, surely- at least, not in this way, something softer around the edges, not looking for hostility but perhaps the opposite. Claude can’t remember anything more than a glower coming from the man from across the hall during their days at the academy, when Hubert would shadow Edelgard in an almost more literal sense, observing and assessing everything and anyone that crossed their path, years before their plans had been set into motion. Of course, he’d considered a young future duke and wildcard player a threat then. What a failed assessment that turned out to be.

Claude went to reach over again to his left, to take hold of yet another contract or sheet of paper, or whatever else he could find to avoid the look of something so unguarded, watching as Hubert went to do the same and seemed to slow as their fingers brushed along the top of the pile of documents. The moment stretched into silence, and as the gloved hand pulled away with an apology, Claude’s chased it, and held it in his own, to feel the weight of it. His eyes moved across the desk, once again meeting his eyes that seemed so cautiously wanting. The letter came to mind again, talks of missing his voice and his mannerisms, but not his touch. How could you miss something you hadn’t ever had before. The king paused, to brush his thumb across Hubert’s knuckles, delighting in the way his eyes darted down to see it happen with a slow swallow that made his throat bob. So he hadn’t been imagining things. This hadn’t just been a meeting to further solidify an alliance- though, surely, that’s what they would be doing regardless- but there had been something of a selfish motive, as well. For as smart as Hubert was, courting was far from his strong suit. He gave the hand he held a final squeeze before rising to his feet, struggling to keep a hold of the thing while still looking graceful as he made his way around the desk, to take a seat against it, directly in front of Hubert.

He tried not to take too much pleasure in the way Hubert never took his eyes off of him as he moved, positioning himself to sit almost looming over him. He tried even further still to not notice the way this only seemed to excite the mage, in the slightest of ways. Both things failed.

He found himself moving his free hand to Hubert's face, forefinger and thumb gently gripping at his chin and forcing him to look up at Claude, purposefully sitting far too close in front of him on the desk. Claude's eyes narrowed just slightly, a smirk pulling at his lips and a twinkle of something in those soft, green eyes that could pull one into oblivion if he so willed it.

“...Have I done something to amuse, Your Majesty?” Hubert’s voice was quieter than he meant for it to be, a secret for the two of them, gentle and reverent, only seeming to delight Claude further. He'd caught on to the realisation, and instead of pulling back, he pushed himself further into it, wanting and perhaps hoping.

“Nothing in particular,” was his coy reply, moving his fingers to tilt Hubert’s head just so as he leaned in a little closer, almost as a reminder of their positions. “But it wouldn't hurt to hear my name, for once. You came all the way here to see me, after all. I would have thought I was more than a king to you.”

The mage swallowed, with a soft exhale like a prayer. “I couldn't bear the disrespect.”

“Even if I asked?”

Hubert stared up at Claude still, at the way the sunset from the office window framed his face like a halo, like something holy, a metaphor dripping in irony, from a man who spat on the corpse of the goddess to one who ruled a nation untouched by her corrupted gaze. He swallowed, lost in evergreen eyes and the curl of a smile, both biting and fond all the same. “And are you?”

He swept his thumb along the mage’s bottom lip in contemplation, gently tugging at it as he replied, barely above a whisper, “I am.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, Claude thought that he had gone too far with his advances. That he'd scared the Adrestian attack dog back into his doghouse, but it was cut by the low baritone of Hubert's voice again, still quiet, still reverent.

“Perhaps later, then,” His hand finally moved from where it had been paralysed on his lap, fingers curling around the king’s wrist, but not daring to pull him away. Only wanting to hold on. Only wanting to have him. “I'm sure my hesitancy to speak can be forgiven by a kind soul such as yourself, my liege.”

A momentary twang of disappointment reverberated through Claude, as he hung over his guest, but even despite that, his smile somehow grew even moreso, into a satisfied and contented grin. “Oh, you are such a tease, Marquis.”

“Moreso than you, still holding me here, dancing around the point I'm sure you've reached by now, from the way you run your victory lap?”

Claude shrugged at him, tilting his head back the other way in assessment. "I don't know. What is it that you think I've found? Enlighten me."

His esteemed guest seemed too enchanted to tear his eyes away, even beyond the slow blink reminiscent of a contented cat, like he wanted to be here. What an odd thought- Hubert wanting anything other than the position he currently held, at the side of his emperor, for his greater future. Maybe he'd done some growing, across the border, in their time apart. That, he could investigate with time. If that time was allowed to him, as well as his voice, now that Hubert had fallen silent again.

"Come now, Hubert," Claude closed the distance further, leaning in closer, speaking softer, and for a moment he was sure the other man would try to squirm out of his grip and flee. But he didn't move. "What have I found?"

Another beat. But it did not last long. A whisper, from a man who otherwise wouldn't hesitate. "...My heart. I do not know how and when you took it, but I-"

He was cut off rather promptly, by lips pressed against his own to stop him from speaking further. And Claude could feel the tension in his body melting out of him in almost an instance, accepting the kiss so readily, as if he'd been waiting lifetimes for such a thing.

It was a precious and inexperienced thing, but the mage seemed to follow Claude’s lead to stop himself from fumbling and making a fool of himself. They broke off shortly after it had begun, and the king took notice of the way Hubert seemed to try and follow his lips for a moment, chasing after the kiss again before stopping himself, and allowing himself to get lost in the grin staring back at him, glowing like the sunset that had begun to streak through wide windows at his back.

“So…” Keeping the secret between them, Claude’s voice remained low, as he leaned forward to knock his forehead against Hubert’s, and remain there. “How was that? Was that reason enough to get what I asked for?”

“Perhaps,” And the response was breathless, wanting and devout, in sweet irony. Hubert licked his lips, as if chasing after the last taste of Claude he had, before he spoke again, “I shall do as you ask… Khalid.”

Like a shot to the heart, such a bold move reverberated through Claude, and he could not help but lean in for a second, more fevered kiss, if only to hear the man say his name like that again.

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