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It takes Gepard a little more time to come with terms with it than it does for him to act.
Being a part of the Silvermane Guards is something he’s worked for his whole life, something he put blood and sweat into. It’s something Gepard had been proud of, once upon a time ― something he coveted and put all of his cards in, full of hope at the thought of bringing pride to his family’s name.
Giving it up feels like giving up everything else, too. The dreams and hopes of serving Belobog and its people. The thoughts of making his father’s memory proud. Gepard doesn’t feel he’s fit to lead the Silvermane Guards, so he resigns his post.
Without the armor, what does Gepard stand for?
When Sampo finds him, Gepard is putting away the last of his armor.
It’s been a rought couple weeks, and the presence of a criminal ― ex-criminal, now? ― in his room is barely enough to rattle him.
“So that’s it?” Sampo’s eyes are a little wild. “You’re just gonna give up?”
Gepard doesn’t feel like explaining himself, nor does he think Sampo’s owed an explanation to his actions. Shouldn’t he be happy? With Gepard out of the Silvermane Guards, he’ll no longer have to worry about being hunted down across the streets of Belobog.
“What do you want, Koski?”
When the truth about the Supreme Guardian’s actions came out, Gepard had been devastated. All he stood for, all he did ― an entire life and title built upon a lie, thinking himself a protector while standing side-by-side to a would-be murderer of everyone he’s ever cared about.
Sampo stares at him, expression unreadable.
“For you to stop running away.”
The first thing Gepard feels is offense, immediately and closely followed by shame.
“I’m not.”
“Aren’t you?” Sampo scoffs. “Why the fuck are you leaving the Silvermane Guards, then?”
“I―” don’t know. “It felt like the right thing to do.”
Did it? Gepard doesn’t know. The way Sampo stares at him isn’t helping.
“You’re full of shit. What do you even mean by that?”
What else could he mean? Gepard can’t shield Belobog and its people if his first instinct upon being put into a position of power was to blindly follow orders. He never doubted the Supreme Guardian’s actions, never even suspected that she might’ve been planning something ― heard Serval’s attempts at reaching and questioning her, and still took Cocolia’s side.
“All these years and I never noticed. Never even suspected.”
“What, now being an attack dog is something that bothers you?” there’s a kind of derision to Sampo’s tone that Gepard’s entirely unused to. “It sure didn’t, before.”
“That’s what I mean. My orders were clear.”
Protect Belobog. Protect its people. When did Gepard let go of that? So sure he had been that doubt would be the death of duty, that it hadn’t been his place to question. He had truly, whole-heartedly believed he had been doing the right thing, following the Supreme Guardian’s orders, doing as she bade him.
“And now you’re letting yourself run away with the excuse of feeling guilty?”
“I’m not running away!”
“Aren’t you?!” in the blink of an eye, Sampo has crossed the room, power bleeding off him, a hand fisted into Gepard’s collar. “Then what is this, pray tell?! Leaving your post, hiding away like a coward!”
“That’s not―”
“What of all the bullshit about being honorable and truthful? Isn’t that what your family stands for?”
Gepard closes his eyes.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to get your head out of your ass for long enough to realize this isn’t about you.” Sampo shakes him again, once, before letting go. “Your dreams of grandeur are gone with the death of the last Supreme Guardian? Boohoo, too bad! There are children out there who have never even seen the sky, but here you are, moping because you did one thing wrong.”
Against his will, Gepard’s gaze scans his face for a reassurance he knows won’t be there.
“One thing?”
Sampo’s jaw clenches.
“What difference does it make? One thing, several of them ― it’s still a mistake you’re using as an excuse to sit your ass down while people out there work day and night to make this world work again.”
Gepard closes his hands into fists against his sides, and shakes.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Stop hiding.”
“I’m not―” one sharp look from Sampo and the words rot away in Gepard’s mouth. “What’s it to you?”
“What?”
“Why does it matter if I’m hiding?”
“It doesn’t.” Sampo shakes his head. “Not to me, anyway.”
Gepard tells himself the words don’t hurt. He’s always been quite the bad liar.
“But Belobog needs you.” Sampo stares at him, face unreadable. “Your sister, too.”
Ha. As if.
“Serval never needed me for a single thing in her entire life, and I doubt that changed much these past weeks.”
“So what?” Sampo’s frown lets him know he doesn’t understand. “She still wants you around.”
“She might be the only one.”
And even if she does ― how would Gepard even help her with anything?
Wrong answer. Sampo’s expression closes entirely.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Landau. What kind of picture do you think this paints, you hiding away while Belobog and its people struggle?”
Gepard made an oath, a lifetime ago. To protect and serve. To serve and protect. When did that, too, become a lie ― and how could he ever let himself be fooled by it? He put on the armor and accepted the post of Captain, and he followed orders down to the last line. Why wasn’t that enough? When did it all become a lie?
“I don’t think they’ll want me around.”
Belobog and its people. The Overworld residents might, by familiarity alone if nothing else, but Gepard’s not so sure about the others. How can he be of any help when the one time he believed himself to be doing the right thing ended up so badly?
“And you think that matters?” Sampo looks like he wants to grab him and shake him again, but stops himself last minute. “Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.”
Gepard looks away and tries to tell himself Sampo has no idea what he’s talking about.
“You’re more than welcome to leave.”
“You know what? I just might. And while you rot away in guilt, I’m gonna be out there with the people of Belobog, trying not to fuck everything up again.”
When the door closes on Sampo’s way out, Gepard doesn’t open it again for a long time.
Gepard doesn’t want to leave. He knows he shouldn’t want to leave.
What else is there for him, outside? He picked a side, and he did wrong. Serval had been right and he hurt her. Belobog’s people had needed help, and Gepard only made everything worse. All that made him proud, that made him happy, that made him Landau ― gone. How can Gepard trust himself not to make the wrong decision again?
How can anyone?
Serval stops by, sometimes, and asks him if Gepard doesn’t feel like joining her for the day.
There’s a lot to be done. There are houses to be built, and new people to accomodate. The Underworld will not be closed, not again, but a lot of people would like to join Belobog’s Overworld again ― enough people that the city needs a new section, that there are arrangements being made, that hotels and inns are getting busier than ever.
She thinks he’d enjoy being out there a little, Serval tells him. That he doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t feel like doing, and he can just stick by her side if he wants to. (Like he used to when they were children, she doesn’t say. Like when he had been too timid to let go of her, and would follow her around like a little lost duckling. Serval would never deny him, then. It’s... Sweet that she offers him the same kind of support, now.)
Gepard doesn’t know what to tell her. He doesn’t know how to deny her.
Serval is probably the person he hurt the most, and still, here she is: knocking at his door and trying to take care of him, just like she used to, an habit Gepard had believed himself to have outgrown a long time ago.
She still wants you around, Sampo had said, and Gepard had to fight the desire to laugh to his face. So what? Serval’s always been a better person than him, has always deserved a better brother than him. She’ll want him around whether Gepard deserves it or not, and she’ll never try to guilt him for it.
Gepard doesn’t know how to deny her ― so he doesn’t.
As he suspected would happen, no one is happy to have him ― no one but Serval, and for her he stays. What’s a little discomfort when compared to his sister’s happiness? Gepard can’t undo all the years he spent behind the Supreme Guardian’s shadow, but he can try and make up for it.
If not for himself, then for her.
It’s never easy. It’s never simple.
Gepard had known his presence wouldn’t be easily accepted ― that’s why he’d kept himself away for so long ―, had known people would have reservations, but he hadn’t... Well. He didn’t prepare himself for it quite as well as he believed.
No one tries to pick a fight, but it’s obvious they dislike his insistence in being by Serval’s side. If Gepard tries to offer help, he’s either met with suspicion or immediate denial, there’s no in-between. If he just stands around, the discomfort is worse ― not only is he doing nothing, but it’s obvious his presence grants on everyone’s nerves, every action perhaps a little angrier than warranted.
A part of Gepard wishes to apologize, though he’s not even sure how he’d go about it. Just as they do now, he only did what he thought was right ― with the difference they’re working towards building a better future, and he was unknowingly giving protection for someone whose plan had been to kill all of them all along.
Gepard doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t know how.
(“Help me with the kids.” Serval asks, after a few days of having Gepard trailing her every step. “Like you did with Lynx, back when we were children? There aren’t many of them, but we― well. They’re getting a little antsy, cooped up in their rooms all the time.”
Gepard half thinks she’s just trying to get rid of him, half thinks she’s trying to give him a vote of trust. Gepard hasn’t been doing anything useful, can barely step into a construction site without having at least half the people in there turning their gaze away not to glare, and he knows he’s not being helpful.
If he’ll be staying― well, the least he can do is help, right?
“Alright. Tell me what to do.”)
The children are much more trusting, much easier to deal with than the adults.
Their suspicion is the same suspicion of a child meeting a stranger for the first time, which Gepard understands ― and even that switches to interest and curiosity as soon as Serval introduces him as her younger brother, as if that alone overrides whatever they might’ve heard about him before. Gepard kinda forgot how easily distracted children are ― as Captain of the Silvermane Guards, he didn’t have a lot of time to spend around them, and, when he did, it was usually at the behest of the Supreme Guardian.
They make him think of Lynx, and he misses her so much it physically hurts. They make him think of Lynx, and that alone has him trying harder than Gepard’s done in the weeks since the truth about the Supreme Guardian was revealed.
Hook, Clara, all the others ― they have none of the weight all the adults carry, nothing of their resentment or anger, and they don’t hate him for being who he is. Gepard having been the Captain of the Silvermane Guards means nothing to them, as long as he keeps them entertained with stories and games.
And Gepard― Gepard thinks he can do that, maybe.
Thinks he can try his best, if nothing else.
Clara is a lovely girl ― the machine that follows her around, not so much. It’s a good thing that whatever kind of consciousness it developed seems to have imprinted on the little girl, wishing to shield her from all harm, otherwise Gepard suspects they’d have a little more to worry about than making room for all the people that come from the Underworld.
Clara is a lovely girl ― friendly, although shy, with a machine for best friend and all the self-preservation of a wet paper towel. She wants to help, wants to participate, and Svarog does help, but― it makes Gepard a little uncomfortable to have her around building sites all of the time, it’s all. He’s always watching out, fearful she might end up getting hurt by accident, unsure why no one ever speaks up about it.
Sure, Svarog can be a little unnerving to be around of, but not enough to warrant the way people avoid her.
It takes Gepard a little under three weeks to work up the courage to step in.
“Please, put on some shoes, Clara.”
It’s a surprise she hasn’t lost her toes already, everything considered. Gepard suspects Svarog might have something to do with it, but honestly, as long as she’s safe and healthy, he couldn’t care less ― he’s just glad that’s not something she ever had to worry about. Watching Clara walk across frozen ground on her bare feet is still deeply distressing, however, and he doesn’t think he’s the only one getting antsy about it.
He still had some of Lynx’s old shoes around the house. He hopes she won’t mind he gave them away when she gets back ― knows she won’t, but still worries about it.
Clara looks a little lost when given the shoes, so Gepard helps her put the boots on, careful not to tie the laces too tight as to avoid accidentally hurting her. He’d been right in his assessment, and the boots fit her just fine, just as he knew they would. Clara wiggles a bit in place, tapping her feet against the ground as if to test the resistance of her new shoes ― Gepard thinks back on his younger sister, who had enjoyed doing the same thing every time she got anything new.
His chest feels a little heavy. Clara’s smile doesn’t make it any better.
“Thank you, sir!”
She’s a sweet girl, and Gepard’s insides twist with guilt at the thought of a childhood spent underground, with only a killing machine for company. He doesn’t quite understand, still, what led them to be put on different sides of a conflict that wasn’t even supposed to exist ― doesn’t understand why the Supreme Guardian had been so willing to turn her back on the innocent children all of their actions would sacrifice for the sake of imaginary peace.
“Just ‘Gepard’ is fine, Clara.” he reminds her, gently. “I already told you that.”
Clara’s smile is still wide and joyous.
“That you did, sir!”
Gepard huffs out a laugh, ruffling her hair.
“Off you go, Clara. Take care.”
It’s with an aching heart that Gepard watches her run to Svarog, excited about showing it her new shoes, walking so fast she almost tumbles straight into its arms. Svarog helps her up with a reminder to be careful, but Clara’s smile is radiant, and she doesn’t seem to mind. While Gepard watches her, twirling around with Svarog for support, Gepard feels the itch of a gaze upon his back.
When he looks up, Sampo’s staring ― at him, first, then Clara, then Gepard again.
The awkwardness that blooms in Gepard’s chest has nothing to do with feeling out of place. He gives Sampo a small nod of acknowledgement, which makes him blink in surprise before, slowly, offering his own nod back.
Sampo leaves not long after.
Gepard stays.
Clara’s still dancing.
It’s― not easier, no, but something akin to it.
Some still stare when Gepard shows up, some still turn their gaze away. He’s mostly left to his own devices, though once or twice Natasha does have to step in and mediate. Gepard... Gets it, he thinks. Understands it a little more than he did at first, if nothing else. They might not know him, and he certainly doesn’t know them, but what they do know doesn’t quite paint the best picture ― ex-Captain of the Silvermane Guards, protecting the Supreme Guardian until the very last minute, resigned his post as soon as the truth came out. So what if Gepard hadn’t known the truth, then? So what if he hadn’t personally been the one to lock them in the Underworld? Gepard was still the one guarding Belobog from trespassers, was still the one standing at Cocolia’s beck and call, was still proud of being Belobog’s shield up until he was forced to deal with the realization all he’s worked so hard for was nothing but a lie.
Something changes after Clara starts wearing the winter boots.
Gepard doesn’t notice it, at first ― he’s always been too quick to get engrossed in new tasks, and making more room in Belobog is no exception. There are materials to be bought and carried, houses to build, insulation to worry about, he spends most of his days and a good portion of his nights trying to work out the logistics of where to fit all new Belobog residents while making sure they’ll be kept safe from the weather and have enough resources to settle in the Overworld. So what if people stare a little more than they used to? As long as he can keep doing what he’s doing, he can deal with that.
Gepard doesn’t notice it, at first ― a little more ease in his interactions, a little less weight on his shoulders from the glares, wanting to help and being allowed to. He’s left to entertain the curious children a little more, now, with tales of his time as Captain of the Silvermane Guards ― Hook the bravest and nosiest of them all, with a million and twenty questions he’s more than happy to try and answer ― and parents no longer argue against it. And it’s... It’s nice. It’s good. A stark contrast to hiding away in his room and struggling, and not the kind of normalcy Gepard had expected to miss so much until it’s returned to his daily routine.
And maybe Gepard doesn’t feel as confident as he used to be, maybe a part of him still thinks he has no place in Belobog’s rebirth, but― but he wants to be a part of it. He wants to keep his oath, and protect Belobog’s people, all of them; to be a shield and protector and help them thrive no matter what comes their way. And so he stays.
And because he stays, people watch him.
“You did quite the impression, Captain.”
Gepard startles so bad he knocks over half the contents in his table ― the building plans and the finance papers Serval asked him to go over for her, immediately scattered all over the floor. Gepard doesn’t even realize he stood up until Sampo’s laughter rings out, and then he turns around to glare at him.
“What the fuck, man?!”
Sampo looks far too at ease for someone who just broke into Gepard’s room without warning or reason, and Gepard ― is a little less miffed about it than he should be, probably.
“Should’ve seen your face.” Sampo teases, entirely too comfortable, before he reaches out to grab some of the papers. “I didn’t know you were the kind of guy to bring work home, Geppie.”
“Don’t call me that.” there’s less bite in Gepard’s voice than he’d like, and he snatches the documents from Sampo’s hands without thinking. “What do you want?”
Sampo gives him a strange glance.
“Why do you think I want anything?”
Because. Gepard can’t voice any of the reasons that come to his mind, but he doubts Sampo’s presence in his room is innocent.
“Why else would you be here?”
“Caught me there.” Sampo shrugs ― leans back into Gepard’s work table with no regard for the mess he made. “You’ve been working hard out there.”
Gepard isn’t sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or not, but he doesn’t think it is. He still remembers Sampo’s biting remarks the last time they spoke, and he doesn’t look forward to a repeat of that. He eyes him with suspicion.
“What of it?”
“Nothing.” Sampo’s gaze doesn’t leave him. “Just a little surprising, I suppose, for someone who was so eager to hide his head in the sand, before.”
There it is. Gepard feels― upset? Surprised? Maybe frustrated, instead. He decides not to think too much on it.
“That still doesn’t explain what you want.”
“To know what brought this on?” Sampo shrugs again. “It’s a sudden change of heart, don’t you agree?”
“You told me they were worth trying.”
Maybe not in those exact words, but wasn’t that the meaning of his words, either way? Belobog and its people, both worth trying for. Gepard could spend the rest of his life hiding away in his room, like Sampo accused him of doing, but this city is his city and these people are his people, and he can’t turn his back on them.
Sampo blinks slowly.
“Did I?”
Gepard doesn’t feel like entertaining whatever it is the game Sampo is playing tonight.
“Look, Koski, I’m not―” Gepard stops himself, hands curled at his sides. “If you’re not going to tell me what you want, fuck off. I have work to do.”
“That you do.”
Sampo agrees, and doesn’t say anything else. Gepard wants to resent him, and he’s not sure why it doesn’t bother him that he doesn’t.
“So?”
Sampo lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“You’re doing good, Gepard.”
Gepard’s heart makes something pained in his chest. That’s... Not exactly what he had been expecting. Not at all. He stares at Sampo for a long moment.
“Thank you.”
“What?” and then, before Gepard can even consider repeating it: “What for?”
He sounds genuinely confused, and not at all like someone who’s fishing for praise. And even if he were― well, that doesn’t change the fact Gepard has something to thank him for.
“Helping.”
Sampo stares. Gepard wants to both explain himself and refuse to. Sampo did help, even if that probably hadn’t been his intention at the beginning. He had been far too angry, far too resentful for the conversation to have been anything but one-sided ― he hadn’t purposefully wanted to help, back when he called Gepard names and accused him of being a coward, probably, but that doesn’t change the fact that he did.
“Well―” Sampo looks like he’s about to tease him, sounds like he’s about to tease him, but stops at the very last second. “― you’re welcome.”
The knot of tension in Gepard’s chest unravels.
“Do you need anything else?”
He doubts Sampo’s intention in coming here had been to merely praise him and leave ― and the way Sampo hesitates for a moment before shaking his head tells him he’s right in assuming.
“Nah.” Sampo takes another peek at his table. “Do you need any help with that?”
The prideful part of Gepard wants to deny him immediately. If Sampo has no other business here, he has no reason to stick around ― he can leave, and Gepard can get back to work without having to worry about having his room invaded again.
Gepard doesn’t ask him to leave. Doesn’t want to, which might be worse.
“Yes, please.”
Sampo’s smile isn’t cruel, this time. Gepard likes it better that way.
“Where do we start, then?”
Where they always do: at the beginning.