[ Ferdinand is no longer a noble - hasn't been since Edelgard became Adrestia's newest emperor and deposed his father - but noble blood still runs in his veins. Even though he has no lands, no home to speak of anymore, he has a duty to protect his people from the negative impacts of this war.
(he doesn't understand why she's doing this. why hubert still follows her so loyally. should he have swallowed his pride and followed her? or did he do the right thing, severing the strings that have tied him to her for so long, and carving his own path forward?
he always wanted to be there to guide her, to advise her when she deviates from the path of justice - but she probably never saw him at all.)
For the past five years, he has devoted himself solely to the common-folk. He's been single-minded in this... to the point where he lost track of time, and almost forgot about the Millennium Festival. But Ferdinand von Aegir is not about to break his promise to his classmates and professor... or to his soulmate.
The Ferdinand Linhardt encounters curled up beneath a tree, lance loose in his grip, is a Ferdinand who had to ride quickly through former Aegir territory to ensure he'd make it to the monastery with time to spare. He truly didn't mean to fall asleep - he had merely wanted to give his beloved Duchess Marigold von Aegir a moment's rest, and to catch his breath before making the journey across Gronder Field. But he doesn't stir when Linhardt approaches, nor when he settles next to him and drifts off as well. Though in his dreams, he feels a sudden, familiar warmth bloom when he sets his head on his shoulder, washing over him in gentle waves.
Eventually, his eyes blink open slowly, and he jolts as he registers the weight against him. His hand twitches around the shaft of his lance, but before he acts, he takes in the form beside him. Dark, emerald green hair tucked behind his ears and cascading over his shoulders, with a bun held together by a delicate white ribbon in the back... gentle features, softened further by the peace of sleep... and a familiar scent of wood and paper hitting his nose.
His heart aches in his chest, and he swears he can feel his soulmate's words burn beneath his glove and gauntlet. He wants to contain his excitement and let Linhardt rest for longer (hevring territory is quite a ways away from bergliez - who knows how long he's been on the road) but he finds himself unable to hold back a moment longer.
Carefully, he tucks a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, then brushes his hand slowly over his cheek. ] It seems that even after all this time, you still cannot resist the allure of a good nap. [ His voice is warm and fond, and he smiles easier now than he has in years. ] But I am relieved you have not changed a bit, Linhardt.
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(he doesn't understand why she's doing this. why hubert still follows her so loyally. should he have swallowed his pride and followed her? or did he do the right thing, severing the strings that have tied him to her for so long, and carving his own path forward?
he always wanted to be there to guide her, to advise her when she deviates from the path of justice - but she probably never saw him at all.)
For the past five years, he has devoted himself solely to the common-folk. He's been single-minded in this... to the point where he lost track of time, and almost forgot about the Millennium Festival. But Ferdinand von Aegir is not about to break his promise to his classmates and professor... or to his soulmate.
The Ferdinand Linhardt encounters curled up beneath a tree, lance loose in his grip, is a Ferdinand who had to ride quickly through former Aegir territory to ensure he'd make it to the monastery with time to spare. He truly didn't mean to fall asleep - he had merely wanted to give his beloved Duchess Marigold von Aegir a moment's rest, and to catch his breath before making the journey across Gronder Field. But he doesn't stir when Linhardt approaches, nor when he settles next to him and drifts off as well. Though in his dreams, he feels a sudden, familiar warmth bloom when he sets his head on his shoulder, washing over him in gentle waves.
Eventually, his eyes blink open slowly, and he jolts as he registers the weight against him. His hand twitches around the shaft of his lance, but before he acts, he takes in the form beside him. Dark, emerald green hair tucked behind his ears and cascading over his shoulders, with a bun held together by a delicate white ribbon in the back... gentle features, softened further by the peace of sleep... and a familiar scent of wood and paper hitting his nose.
His heart aches in his chest, and he swears he can feel his soulmate's words burn beneath his glove and gauntlet. He wants to contain his excitement and let Linhardt rest for longer (hevring territory is quite a ways away from bergliez - who knows how long he's been on the road) but he finds himself unable to hold back a moment longer.
Carefully, he tucks a few loose strands of hair behind his ear, then brushes his hand slowly over his cheek. ] It seems that even after all this time, you still cannot resist the allure of a good nap. [ His voice is warm and fond, and he smiles easier now than he has in years. ] But I am relieved you have not changed a bit, Linhardt.