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Fidelio’s world had always been small, compact. At first it was just him and Basilio, and Vinca and the other paripus at the Igniter Experiment Facility. Next it began to include Saint Rella, who saved his brother from death, and her little sister with the beautiful voice. Then Lord Louis came along, and he promised the brothers a life they could only have dreamed of. He gave them a place among the strongest in Euchronia, where they would want for little and could protect themselves from any harm.
Lord Louis was their savior, in a sense. Fidelio was a loyal man, and it was Louis who he had pledged his allegiance to. Without him and his military strength, two homeless, orphaned paripus pups stood no chance in the world. They would’ve been chewed up and spit out by the Sanctist Church—or worse, left dead in a ditch somewhere like the rest of their poor, makeshift family. Vinca and the others who were used as test subjects—lab rats—for the church and their bloody igniters… as cruel as it was to think, Fidelio was glad it was not him and Bas that he suffered their fate.
All of this to say, he did not tend to allow others in so easily. He could not afford the pain that came with relationships, platonic or not. However, recently, an… exception came along.
Del stiffened as feathers grazed his arm. “Cheer up, mate,” someone beside him giggled.
He sighed, shaking off the ishkia’s wing. “I was just sound until you came along, you bellend.”
“Aw, don’t gimme that! You’re lookin’ proper devoed over there, la.”
You.
Del did not respond, though he didn’t need to. You would continue to bug him no matter how he responded to your prodding, and he had long since given up on getting rid of you. Ever since you had first snuck your way into the Charadrius and evaded every capture attempt, his world had been totally shaken. Why Lord Louis hadn’t ordered your execution, Fidelio had no clue. Perhaps his boss thought his torment was funny, or perhaps he thought you could be of some use to him. Whatever the reason, you had been the Charadrius’ little stowaway for a long time now. Long enough that the paripus had grown used to your antics.
And despite his best efforts, he found it hard to ignore you. You were loud and ever-present, making yourself known to everyone in the room. You talked a mile-a-minute to anyone who would listen, and sometimes those who would not. You spoke to Count Louis in such an informal way that would’ve bordered on disrespectful, had Louis not clearly found it amusing. Del could complain about you for hours on end, but there was no point in that.
Regardless of your many little annoyances, Fidelio was unfortunately charmed. The moment he realized what the stupid, gross feeling in his chest was he had nearly jumped off the side of the Charadrius. But alas, he didn’t and was still alive to feel the consequences.
What it was about you exactly, he couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way you treated him like he wasn’t just some paripus. You had no biases against him or his tribe, never made a cruel remark about his upbringing, and never did you mock him. It was such a basic level of respect, and yet he wasn’t really used to it—typically, at least in Louis’ army, such respect only came from displays of strength. If you had the power to prove yourself worthy, others would naturally steer clear of insults. They would treat you as an equal, or a superior. But you were clearly not of that mindset. In fact, sometimes he wondered if you even knew of the disparity between the tribes, but surely you couldn’t be that ignorant.
And on that note, maybe his feelings emerged from an urge to protect you. You were dreadful at magic, could barely hold a sword, and clearly weren’t build for fighting. Eventually, someone would strike you dead, and it would all be because you were stupid and naive. Your sheer incompetence astounded him, but it reminded him of a time long ago, where he and Basilio were just two small, helpless kids in a cruel world. No one had protected them then, and look how they turned up. Maybe he simply didn’t wish the same cruel fate upon you.
Lord Louis’ Gauntlet Runner was not where you belonged. Hell, you didn’t belong on a Gauntlet Runner period. He’d heard the story straight from your lips before, how you’d come to admire his lord. He had it practically memorized at this point.
Where you truly belonged was out at sea, in a ship piloted by some drunken sailor, as the rest of your crew laughed amongst themself and enjoyed the soft breeze upon their faces. You used to be a sailor, up until some nasty human came along and slaughtered your crew. You’d escaped by a hair's breadth, and wandered Brilehaven in a trance until Louis came along. He slayed the foul human that uprooted your life, and from then on you’d been immensely grateful to him. You’d pledged your life and love to him—not that your life mattered much, with how weak you were. But still, the devotion was perhaps enough for Lord Louis to justify allowing you to wreak havoc on his skyrunner.
Del wished he could take you back to the sea. You’d be happier there, he knew, because despite the smile that never left your face and your chipper demeanor, he knew there was something underneath all of that. He might be an expert at closing off his heart, but you sure weren’t. Anyone with eyes and even a modicum of sense could tell even you were not living your best life on the Charadrius. At least, that’s how he saw it. Basilio didn’t seem to agree with him when he brought it up once, and he teased the bloody hell out of his brother afterwards, so maybe Del was just imagining things.
Regardless, you deserved better than painfully pining away for a man who would never truly notice you.
But Fidelio also knew that he was not what you deserved either. He wouldn’t leave his lord—couldn’t, even if he wanted to. His and Basilio’s livelihoods were dependent on Louis, and he obviously couldn’t destroy everything they’ve worked for for some chirpy bird who just-so-happened to make his face flush.
Del hadn’t realized he was spacing out until he was shook repeatedly. He groaned, glaring at you.
“Pack it in!” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “What’s with all the shakin’?”
“You were off with the fairies,” you said. “I couldn’t get a word out of you!” From the other side of the room, Basilio barked a laugh. “Aw, don’t mind ‘im. Our Del’s had a cob on since Lady Junah decided to hang out with that elda lad.” “Shut up, lid! That’s not it at all. I’ve just been… thinking.”
Bas flashed a knowing smile. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
But like hell was Fidelio going to reply sincerely. “…The elda,” he said instead of ’the ishkia right next to me.’ “Do you really trust that lot? The whole thing with Glodell was proper suspicious.” It wasn’t a total lie. Of course, he had been wary of the eldan candidate ever since the night of the soiree. There was something off about him and his group, and he didn’t believe for one second that they were truly dedicated to Lord Louis.
Luckily, his response was enough to distract his brother from teasing him. “They seem alright to me.”After a moment, Basilio spoke again. “But if you really can’t trust ‘em, maybe we should go with ‘em to get the lance?”
The lance? Right, the lance. The one that Louis ordered them to retrieve. Well, in all honesty it would be a good idea to keep an eye on them. Who knows what they could be scheming while not under the watchful eye of Louis and his men? Couldn’t have them betraying his lord, after all.
“Fine.”
Minds made up, the brothers went to leave the room. Except, instead of the expected sound of two footsteps, there were three.
“What are you doing?” Del asked.
“I’m coming with you,” You cheered. “I’ll keep an eye on ‘em too.”
“No.”
Absolutely not. Fidelio didn’t need any distractions. He was only planning to watch over the elda's group, not also a careless little thorn in his side. You pouted, looking utterly heartbroken as if you could guilt trip him into reconsidering it.
“Oh, come off it, Del.” Basilio shook his head in disapproval. He grinned, elbowing Del playfully. “Let ‘em come with us! It’ll be fun.”
“‘Fun’? I don’t see how babysittin—“ He was cut off by your exclamation of joy. Clearly, Basilio’s approval was enough for you.
Bas smirked at him, and Del knew he had to concede. There was no denying you now that you had already gotten your hopes up.
So in the morning, the three made their way to Brilehaven’s docks and surprised the elda’s group. They protested the unexpected arrival, naturally, but otherwise grinned and beared it. Their Gauntlet Runner, turned searunner, was a hunk of junk in pretty paint. They began their journey to Virga Island, and in the meantime Louis’ men familiarized themselves with the runner.
It was making Del nauseous, with the way it shook around like it was going to collapse at any moment. Bas was excited about the kitchen, and raided the pantry immediately upon arrival. Del wasn’t too interested in anything, but he did like playing chess with that Roussainte lady. She was a good player, he’d admit, though he was better.
Lady Junah tried and failed to get them to converse with her friends, but every conversation ended in an insult from either party (usually Del). They cohabitated in a tense peace. The brothers shared a ‘bed’ since the runner was running out of space for everyone. If they intended to ever pick up more strays, they would need to fix that. But Del and Bas were quite used to sharing a bed, so it wasn’t a big deal for them.
On the first night, when everyone was ready to settle in for the night, it suddenly came to Del that he hadn’t seen you all day. Strange. Usually, you would’ve been bugging him incessantly until he caved and complied with your whims.
He left the bed silently and searched around the runner. You weren’t in the kitchen, or reading a book. You weren’t downstairs cleaning or doing laundry. He looked throughout the entire interior of the searunner and came up short.
Unless you had fallen overboard, you could only be on the deck, probably freezing your wings off. It was dark outside; Del could barely make out the outline of the waves. What in God’s name possessed you to be out here this late?
He called out to you, rounding the corner. You were sitting on the railing, dangling your feet over the edge. Your head did not turn at the sound of your name. Del huffed and moved closer, leaning on the railing beside you.
“What are you doing out ‘ere?”
“Nothing,” you dismissed. Well, truthfully you weren’t doing much. You were simply gazing out at the sea, with an odd look on your face. He couldn’t read your mind, but he had a feeling you were something close to homesick.
“You sure?” He questioned skeptically. You nodded quietly.
You did not want to talk, and that was okay. Del understood. You missed your sailor crew—your family—evidently. Fidelio was not foolish enough to believe he was an adequate substitute.
So, instead of saying anything else, he put his hand on yours. You stiffened, but relaxed soon enough. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it, taking whatever comfort he was offering. Yes, it was unbearably cold. Yes, you were attacked by shivers every few minutes. Yes, you were surely bound to catch colds. But neither of you focused on that.
It was just you and him, hand in hand, gazing out into the sea. In the morning, neither of you would speak of this. You would go back to your usual routine of annoying Del and everyone else, and you would be back to the bright, chipper person you usually were.
For now, though, it was fine how it was.