#not seen is the next lecturing session where hubert claims he wants to be a dark knight

[soartfullydone]

Try not to... be so careless, Professor. The war effort... hgh, the war effort would be considerably more difficult without you. And Her Majesty... would be sad. Ha... don't worry, Professor. I'm not dead yet. And my magic... won't be slowed by any wound. Just because they've drawn blood... doesn't mean I can't let them taste their own.

Inferna knew she’d left her back turned a moment too long, but running a sword through the stomach of an enemy lieutenant had been worth it. The Knight of Seiros fell at her feet, already dead and one less threat to her students. She could take an arrow for that, could take a hundred arrows.

Instead, she felt a body collide with hers, knocking her to the ground, and heard a sharp intake of breath as the arrow impacted. Inferna felt no pain and twisted, fighting to get a weapon free to eliminate this foolish assailant.

Her eyes flew wide at the sight of disheveled dark hair and a gaunt face she knew so well. Her heart gave a lurch as she found the arrow jutting out through his warlock’s robes, the arrowhead embedded in his back.

“Hubert!” Her hands flew unthinkingly toward the arrow when they should have been going for a weapon instead. Not even thirty feet away, the archer was nocking a new arrow to fire straight at them, and this time, it would be fatal.

Over her, Hubert snarled and flung back a hand. Purple light burst like fire from his palm, and the archer screamed as she was surrounded and engulfed by a dark miasma. Her death was swift but painful.

Unadulterated hatred still gleamed in his eyes when he turned back to Inferna. They softened to a grim amusement, managing to mock and challenge her as they always had, but respect was there now, too. 

“Try not to… be so careless, Professor. The war effort… Hgh.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against a sudden surge of pain. His voice, normally so smooth, dipped into ragged territory. “The war effort would be considerably more difficult without you.” His eyes found hers and held steady. “And Her Majesty… would be sad.”

He slanted forward, and Inferna sat up on her knees, quickly catching him by the shoulders. “Hubert!” His head fell to rest in the crook of her neck, where he just breathed, not responding, and that scared her more than anything. She shook him, stopping once it elicited another pained moan from him. She’d jostled his injury. “Hubert!”

“Ha… don’t worry, Professor. I’m not dead yet.” He lifted his head, a dry smile on his lips. Injured as he was, he looked far too satisfied about the whole thing. “And my magic… won’t be slowed by any wound. Just because they’ve drawn blood… doesn’t mean I can’t let them taste their own.”

“I think you’ve managed that, and more. You’re done in this fight,” she told him firmly. Her hands came around his back, inspecting, and as she feared, when she raised them, they were bright and slick with blood. That arrow had to come out, the bleeding staunched along with it.

“Can you stand?”

“Of course.” He sounded insulted that she’d even asked.

Inferna was strategizing how they would do this when she spied a familiar sight across the battlefield. Close but perhaps an impossible distance away.

“Linhardt!” she screamed in an unmistakable command.

“Ugh, what?” the green-haired bishop groaned. He set an armored knight on fire with a lazy flick of the wrist before turning toward her, his half-lidded eyes expressing acute boredom even in the heat of battle. He stopped and stared momentarily at their situation. “Oh.”

“Get over here! I need you!”

“Is he bleeding?” he called back. “Please don’t tell me he’s bleeding…”

“Lin!”

“Okay, okay.” 

Linhardt’s progress was momentarily halted as a stray arrow flew across his path, but Dorothea was suddenly there, firing a bolt of white light straight back. “Go, Lin, I’ll cover you.”

“Me, too!” Caspar crowed, practically bounding over Lin to punch a charging paladin right off his horse.

“Much appreciated.”

Linhardt made it to them, mercifully unscathed, and grimaced down at the protruding arrow. “Ugh, Hubert, really? I expect this kind of careless behavior from Ferdinand, not you.”

“It was my fault,” Inferna admitted as a cacophony of feelings rose inside her. 

Hubert knew she could’ve taken that hit—and much worse besides. Why had he done something so stupid? Was this some sort of ill-advised order from Edelgard, to protect her at all costs? Surely, he would’ve objected and defied it, viewing his emperor’s life as the priority, a decision Inferna agreed with. The war effort would be more difficult for the Black Eagle Strike Force without Inferna but not impossible. With his status as a strategist and an unexpected powerhouse on and off the battlefield, losing Hubert would be an equally hard loss but not unsalvageable. Without Edelgard, though, they would have nothing. No leader to rally behind, no successor, no cause. She wanted to shake Hubert some more and demand answers, but she dared not irritate his injury anymore than she already had.

“Professor,” Linhardt was complaining, “he’s bleeding everywhere.”

It was an exaggeration, but Inferna knew how much the sight of blood affected Lin. Any amount was too much, and no doubt he was fighting the urge to pass out or at least focus his attention somewhere else. But he was the only healer in their vicinity. 

“I know you can do this,” she encouraged. “I need you to do this. I’m not going to lose a single one of you.”

Lin smiled. It was a little queasy, but genuine all the same. “No, you’re not. Not today anyway.” He examined Hubert more clinically. “I guess I’ll save him, since we’re friends. I think.”

Hubert laughed roughly. “Don’t start.” 

Not in the mood for inside jokes, Inferna ordered, “Pull the arrow out while I brace him.”

Lin inhaled deeply. “Alright.”

As Linhardt rounded the two of them, Inferna wrapped an arm against Hubert’s lower back, the other braced against his chest. Her hand clenched the strap of his cape, and she locked her knees. Started as she felt his hands settle on her hips. She brushed off the feeling. He needed to hold onto her, too, didn’t he? Bracing him was the whole point. Once she felt suitably balanced, she nodded for Lin to grab the arrow.

Inferna was going to monitor Lin’s progress, give guidance if he faltered, but at that moment between Linhardt bracing himself and yanking out the arrow, Hubert raised his head. His green eyes trapped hers and refused to let go. Not a sound escaped him as Lin ripped out the arrow, though she felt his body jerk under her hands. That had to be painful, but he betrayed no hint of agony or irritation, not even at Lin’s fresh curses as he tossed the bloody thing away and prepared a healing spell. He just gazed at Inferna as if that alone was enough to anchor him. As if that was all he wanted to do forever.

She found herself returning that unflinching gaze, but she also found she wanted something more.

Before she could figure out what that something was, the sound of hooves had her tearing her eyes away. She sighed in relief at seeing Sylvain riding toward them instead of an enemy. 

“Whoa, teach!” The redhead grinned as he guided his horse to a stop. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I think Lin took care of it.” At Hubert’s nod, Inferna disentangled herself, trying not to blush too obviously at the suggestive situation. Both of them on their knees, in the dirt, staring at each other like two touch-starved lovers. She got to her feet and at last sheathed her sword. “What news?”

“Area’s clear, so I thought I’d go help the girls. They went straight to the shoreline.”

Inferna did a quick headcount. Dorothea was heading their way, Ferdinand riding slowly beside her as their banter peppered the air. The rest of the boys were here. So that meant… “Bernie, Petra, and El are alone down there?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure they’re fine.” 

“Where’s the enemy commander?”

“Uh…”

It was Hubert who answered. “The shoreline.”

“Fuck!”

Sylvain’s casual air faded at his commander’s obvious distress. “C’mon, professor, we’ll make it there fast.”

“For once, I’ll take your offer. If they haven’t finished the knights off, I will.” Inferna accepted Sylvain’s hand up and swung herself into the saddle behind him. “Wait,” she said before Sylvain could snap the reins. “You’re okay?” Not waiting for or trusting Hubert’s silent, narrow-eyed response, she turned to Linhardt. “Is he okay?”

Lin examined Hubert up and down with the precision of a dull scalpel.“I think he’ll make it, if just to torment us.”  

“Go and assist Lady Edelgard,” Hubert told her, that familiar smirk and smooth tone back in place. That convinced her. “I’ll catch up.”

She lingered a little too long on the sight of the warlock, still on his knees, with her elevated considerably above him.

“Not me,” quipped Linhardt a hint too loudly. Face burning, Inferna nudged Sylvain. It was time to go. 

Lin sat down and folded his hands behind his head as he reclined on the grass. “I’m staying right here. Just let me know when it’s over,” he yelled after them as the horse trotted away. “And someone tell Caspar to shut up.”

“Hey! Shut this up, Linhardt!”

“He tackle ‘im?” Sylvain asked her.

Inferna glanced over her shoulder and laughed. “Yep.”

“Let’s get back, then, before von Vestra makes our teammates disappear. Y’know.” He managed to send her a wink. “Since you nursed him so well back to health and all.”

“What’s that? You want me to tell Mercedes about the time you got drunk and—”

“Wow, would you look at that, we’re already here! On your left, Petra!”