Chapter Text
"...and if that wasn't enough, as I'm lying there in the snow, I have to hear that stupid voice: 'After all this time, you’ve finally fallen for me?'" Gepard groaned into the workbench that his face was currently pressed into, "My subordinates are never going to let me hear the end of it."’
"Uh-huh," Serval leaned back to examine her work.
Pela had dropped off the faulty heater in the morning and it had been an easy fix. Still, Serval couldn't help making a few additions. Maybe some lights that would pulse to the beat of Pela's drum rehearsals, a plate she could put her tea on to keep it warm as she read. Anything, really, to give her something to focus on while her brother died, loudly, from embarrassment beside her.
"I don't understand why Bronya is just turning a blind eye. The man's a menace, probably a threat to Belobog and seems to get a sadistic kick out of making people’s lives a waking nightmare."
Reintegrating the underworld with the rest of the city, implementing Bronya's various reforms and the ever-present threat of corrosion beyond the city gates even after the removal of the Stellaron. The Silvermane Guards had been working overtime and Gepard was obviously feeling the strain.
Of course, not that the honourable captain would ever be caught complaining about his duties. If anything, he almost seemed to be wearing his deepening eyebags as yet another badge of honour. But the pent-up stress and exhaustion needed an outlet and a particular smarmy mercenary had been keenly providing that opportunity more often as of late.
Gerpard had chased the man into alleyways and left with nothing to show for it but lungs full of bomb smoke and, in one instance, the addition of a flower bouquet that was quickly crushed underfoot. He’d dived after Sampo into a dumpster, only for the mercenary to sneak out through a hidden hatch (“in a dumpster Serval!”), slam the lid down and lock it.
In one of the most recent incidents, Gepard in all his exhaustion had uncharacteristically fallen asleep on patrol, only to awaken with a blanket over his shoulders, a stuffed rabbit tucked into his chest and wallet decidedly lighter. The next day, he had stormed into the workshop, waving the rabbit wildly in Serval's face. Serval had taken pity on the thing, rescuing it from her irate brother and giving it a home on one of the shelves above her workbench. Gepard glared at it every time he visited.
Yes, Serval had been initially delighted to watch the increasing flush on Gerpard’s face as he detailed his latest embarrassment at Sampo's hands. A chink in the armour of icy Captain that revealed her flustered little brother underneath. But either the stress was really getting to Gepard, or Serval was underestimating this Sampo's capacity for wreaking havoc, because he was quickly weaselling his way into every conversation she'd had with her brother in the past few months.
As if reading her mind, Gepard sighed and picked himself up off the table. "Sorry, you’re going to have a harder time enduring me than I do him at this rate."
Seral hummed, "Don't worry about it, get him off your chest."
Gepard frowned at her, and Serval grinned as she watched the tips of his ears turn red out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't help it, it really didn’t take much.
“In any case, I’ve probably stayed too long,” he said eventually, “The patrol will be heading out in an hour or so and I need to make sure the green recruits get their armour on properly this time.”
“You’ve got time off tomorrow though don’t you?”
“From the afternoon,” Gepard grimaced, “Pela’s been getting on my case about it. Apparently I’m ‘overdoing it” and ‘making everyone exhausted just watching’ me.”
Serval grinned.
“She just wants to make sure you come to our gig tomorrow night.” she paused, “you are coming?”
“You just don't want to pay for security.'
Serval smiled serenely, "I'm only concerned my little brother doesn't get enough time to appreciate our city’s wonderful art and culture."
Her brother raised a brow, but the corners of his lips quirked upwards.
“You haven’t been to the barracks poetry night,” he said.
“Mmm, but I have seen the wanted posters.”
“Wait, what’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing,” Serval said quickly, “they indicate an artist who appreciates art and culture. Things like his big sister’s music gigs.”
Gepard shook his head, but his expression remained light.
"I’ll be there," he said.
“Great, we’ve been dropping hints to your fan club all week that you were going to show your face. It’d be a shame to disappoint them.”
Gepard’s smile dropped like a stone and Serval cackled.
“I’m kidding,” she said, “go on, I don’t want to get an earful for making you late and tarnishing your perfect record.”
Gepard groaned, “I’ll see you tomorrow Serval.”
He stood and turned, but didn’t immediately make to leave. He looked back over his shoulder, expression suddenly set in carefully schooled neutrality. Serval raised a brow, still grinning.
With combat swiftness, he spun around, snatched the sweet muffin she’d been saving for later from her desk and dashed for the door. Serval shouted after him but was met with no reply but a cool gust of air carrying the sounds of the bustling Belobog outside. Then, Gepard slipped the door shut behind him, and the workshop fell quiet.
Serval rolled her eyes and wandered over to her radio and flicked it on. When the raucous guitars began to scream out, she hummed along, thoughts turning to the set list for tomorrow’s performance.
But when tomorrow had come and gone, Gepard wasn’t there.
At first, Serval wasn't too concerned beyond surface-level annoyance that Gepard had skipped out on her gig. It was far from the first time her brother had been called away by his duties. It was highly unlikely to be the last. A couple of days later, she’d passed some off-duty guards discussing the late return of some expedition into the snow fields. That didn't bother her either. Expeditions like that always took longer than expected. Keeping up communications beyond the city walls was difficult, and the logistical issues tended to come hand-in-hand with delays.
Serval knew the dangers he and the Silvermane Guards faced. She’d faced them alongside him the day Cocolia had… The day the Stellaron had been removed. But Serval also knew that Gepard was more than capable of handling himself. Her brother was the youngest Captain of the Guard for a reason, he'd hardly have earned the position on the Landau name alone. It had been a long time since he had cowered behind her, gripping her dress with childish fists.
But after a week had passed with no news at all, concern began to flit across the corners of her mind. Starting excitedly every time someone knocked on the workshop door, only to be disappointed whenever the person revealed themself to be just another client hardly made for good customer service.
For that reason, after locking up early for the day, Serval pulled out her phone and shot off a message to Pela.
you know when geppies in town again?
There was no reply at first, unsurprisingly. Between the museum and her duties as Intelligence Officer, Pela was as busy as Gepard. Still, Serval stared at the screen for a couple of minutes, tapping her thumb absent-mindedly against the side of her phone. The screen remained stubbornly blank. Eventually, she slipped the device back in her pocket. No use standing around working herself up.
She headed out into the cold Belobog evening, singing softly under her breath to distract herself. Around her, the heaters and streetlamps cast their glow onto the walls of buildings. Shadows flickered in their light as the citizens of the city weaved through the streets towards the safety and warmth of home.
Through it all, Serval felt a sudden shiver down her spine, a gaze like cold wind following her as she went. She glanced around, and a few people met her eyes. Some greeted her with a quick smile as they drew their coats further about themselves to ward off the cold. Maybe it was just her body’s way of telling her she should’ve brought another jacket.
She was on her way back to the workshop, hugging a warm container of soup against her torso, when her phone finally buzzed. Serval ducked off to the side of the street and fished it out of her pocket. Pela’s message flashed up on the screen.
Hey, can you come over to my place when you're free?
Serval’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly bit down the anxiety. It was a weird reply, but Pela could just be wanting an excuse to hang out. She quickly typed up a reply
im free now
got food if you want.
Pela’s response arrived almost immediately.
Now's good, please knock this time.
Serval put her phone away and changed course toward Pela's apartment at once. The tone of the texts was… off. Surely she wasn’t getting so old that she was missing something right? But if something serious had happened to Gepard, Pela would have told her sooner. Unless she only just found out about it too-
Movement in a nearby alleyway caught her eyes. For a second it looked like someone was standing there, watching her. But by the time she’d turned her head to get a better look, they had disappeared around the corner. Serval squinted into the shadows for a moment but kept walking, picking up the pace. When did she get so paranoid?
When she knocked on Pela's door, it was the Supreme Guardian who answered it. Serval blinked in surprise as Bronya raised a finger to her lips and tilted her head back toward the apartment behind her. The gesture did nothing the alleviate Serval’s concern, but she complied and said nothing as she slipped into the apartment. Bronya glanced out into the corridor, before shutting the door behind them.
Pela was sitting in the living room. She looked up and smiled at Serval’s entrance, but her eyes looked grim behind her owlish glasses. Bronya stepped passed Serval and stood by the window. For a moment, no one spoke.
Serval looked between her friends before sighing and collapsing down into the couch next to Pela.
“What mess is he in this time?”
“Uhm, well in truth the details are…” Pela said, glancing over to Bronya who nodded, “As far as we understand, there was a disturbance beyond the restricted zone which he set out to investigate last week. Their return was… delayed, but most of the team made it back early this morning.”
Serval crossed her arms and tried to keep her voice steady, “Most of them?”
“Pela you’re making it sound like he’s dead,” Bronya said quietly.
“Sorry!” Pela said, “But honestly we’re not a hundred percent sur-”
Bronya coughed.
"Well…" Pela shook her head, "His team apparently encountered a group of individuals in the fields. We’re not sure exactly what happened but at some point, one of them whispered something to Gepard, who then told his team to guard the perimeter while he spoke with the leader of this group alone.”
Serval squinted at her. “And no one found this a little suspicious?”
“Not quite, Gepard told a commander to report to me if anything went wrong.”
“Mm. And now I’m finding it hard to believe that it didn’t,” Serval’s heart-rate was rising at an alarming rate and she was finding it hard to tell if it was out of anxiety or anger.
Pela grimaced, “Shortly afterwards, they were ambushed by what we think were reprogrammed robots from the Underworld. and while these were dispatched with minimal casualties, the group managed to slip away during the fighting, together with Gepard.”
“That stupid, fucking, ugh-,” Serval leaned back and covered her face with her hands. She was going to kill her brother.
“We’ve got a team investigating. The leads are slim for now, but we’re likely to be receiving a ransom note sometime in the future,” Pela said quietly, “But we’re… concerned by the message his commander brought to us.”
Serval removed her hands from her face and looked at Pela, but it was Bronya who spoke,
“Belobog is grateful for your mother’s sacrifice.”
Oh….
Exhaustion washed over Serval, thick and acrid like molten metal. She closed her eyes.
Oh….
Cocolia, are you never going to let me go?
She was playing a gentle tune, fingers strumming the strings of her guitar with the same softness and care with which she’d once brushed back Gepard’s hair, or patched up Lynx’s scrapes. Cocolia looked up and smiled at her and the room was so, so warm. She could have believed that the eternal freeze just outside her window never existed at all.
“I could be with you like this forever”
And that gentle warmth burnt white hot. She struck at her exhaustion and shaped it into anger. But then a small hand covered her own and her eyes snapped open. Pela had reached out, meeting Serval’s fierce gaze she hesitated, before enfolding her friend in her arms. Bronya watched them for a moment, before turning her gaze to the city outside. In the dim light, she looked so, so young.
Only a handful of people knew the truth of what happened the day the Stellaron was neutralised. Most of them were either in this room or literally off-planet. The girl by the window shouldered the responsibility for a lie that, if discovered, could not only get her killed but tear apart the city she so desperately wished to protect.
Still…
Serval sighed, swallowed her anger, and gently pushed Pela away.
“Bronya,” she said, “What do you need me to do?”
Bronya took a breath and steadied her shoulders. Just like that, the Supreme Guardian took her place.
“Nothing for now,” she held up her hand before Serval could interject, “We’ve already sent another team out to investigate the area. Pela’s also reached out to her intelligence network in the underworld.”
Pela nodded, “Svarog may know something about the Robots that attacked, and while Wildfire is unlikely to have been involved, they may be able to provide us with further intel regarding the group’s identity.”
“And you want me to.. sit around and wait for news?” Serval said.
Bronya winced, but her tone remained hard. “Because of… Captain Gepard’s message, we can’t afford for word of this to reach the public at the current moment.”
“What about Lynx?”
“We sent a dispatch to your sister shortly as soon as we received the news. We couldn’t convince her to return to the city, but she’s agreed to head toward the nearest checkpoint until we can get a firmer grip on the situation,” Bronya said.
“Then I’ll go out and join her,” Serval said.
Bronya and Pela exchanged a glance.
“Unfortunately, you… currently don’t have clearance to go beyond the restricted zone,” Pela said quietly.
Serval stared at her incredulously, “And you can’t make an exception?”
“Even in extreme circumstances, if we start bending the rules then people will start paying closer attention,” Bronya’s tone softened, “Serval, I know this is hard. Captain Gepard is… we all care about him. We’re all worried. But if people start looking into this case…”
Then Belobog might discover Cocolia’s truth.
Still… Serval crossed her arms, fingers drumming against her bicep. She counted to three, before allowing a defeated sigh to escape her lips. She looked up at Bronya.
“You will find him?” she said.
“We will.”
Serval gritted her teeth.
“Then I’m counting on you. For now,” Serval rubbed her eyes, “fucking hell Gepard…”
“I’m sorry Serval,” Pela began, “If you need to stay here for the night…”
Serval shook her head and rose to her feet “No, I’m heading back to the workshop. I’m not sleeping tonight anyway. May as well keep busy.”
Pela nodded. No one said anything as Serval made to leave the small apartment. She took one last look back at the scene behind her before she opened the door. Pela was staring down at her laced fingers, but Bronya’s gaze remained steadily locked on Serval’s own.
Serval nodded grimly at her and left the room.
I’m sorry too.
Her journey home was consumed by thoughts of what she needed to pack.