Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It still paces the halls sometimes. Housemaidens huddle in fear under their bedsheets, whispering stories about the darkless saviour's doppelganger. They say it mutters while it paces, cries when it's alone, slashes at them with long claws if they try to stray near it.

Mirabelle's not afraid, however. To her, that's just Siffrin—or rather, the Sadness left behind. She knows it spawned when Siffrin was sick, lonely and looking for his family; it must be the same way. Even if her only proof was from her first encounter with it.

It was a week into her pilgramage planning, two days after her family finally went their separate ways. Isabeau moved to a neighbouring town to start a career under a tailor, Bonnie went back home to Bambouche to pick up school again, Odile regretfully went back to Ka Bue "just for a year" and Siffrin was Change knows where. Having stayed by Mirabelle the longest, they had finally gotten the itch to travel again and set off for Poteria. Despite promises to stay in touch and keep each other in their thoughts, Mirabelle felt as lonely as she had been when her journey had first started.

She'd been walking back to her dorm after one of many "keep myself busy to stop from thinking" chores when she heard it: shuffling footsteps, hoarse breathing and the unmistakable keening of a Sadness. Most of the House's Sadnesses these days are tiny little things, barely an annoyance; but this one sounded big.

Braced to run, Mirabelle crept towards the door the Sadness was hiding behind and slowly pushed it open to find…Siffrin. A lightless Siffrin, crouched on the ground, long claws tanged in their hair as he rocked back and forth. It looked nearly identical to the ghost versions of her friend she'd seen the day he stormed the house alone.

"Siffrin?" She whispered.

The Sadness jolted like she'd struck it. It stared up at her, the spiral in its pupil turning at a dizzying speed. The Sadness had no visible mouth, yet it growled anyway; bristling like a feral cat as it slowly got to its feet.

"Um." Mirabelle clasped her hands together. The Sadness was smaller than she expected, but it was unnerving being eye level with one—especially one that was the spitting image of her friend. "Hello?"

The Sadness stared at her. Right, it split from Siffrin, so it's probably going to be a lot like him. She has to do all the talking.

"I heard you from the hall," she said, tentively taking a step towards it. "Can I help you at all? Are you hurting?"

"Alone."

Mirabelle flinched when the Sadness spoke. It seemed to get emboldened by this, taking a shuffling step towards her.

"Accept the fact that you'll always be alone!"

She cringed. Of course that's the first thing this creature associates her with.

"I'm not alone," she said firmly. "I have a family."

"Where are they?" The creature whispered. "I wish I was home."

"Siffrin…"

Mirabelle reached out towards it—then backpedaled with a gasp when it swung at her, long black claws catching her sleeve and enough skin to leave a darkless line down to her palm.

"Leave me!" It snarled. "Leave! It's your family special!!"

"Siffrin—"

The Sadness swung again, inches from her neck. Mirabelle stumbled out of the room to avoid its attack, pulling the door shut with her. The Sadness whined when it couldn't see her anymore and shuffled away from the door, repeating "alone" until it had walked out of earshot.

It still paces the halls sometimes, calling for the friends it doesn't trust. Other housemaidens tell stories about it in a whisper, afraid to name it out of fear of getting its attention. Mirabelle's not afraid, however.

It's harmless…So long as you leave it alone.

Chapter Text

i'm always cold.

But if you take me by the hand

and show me where to go

maybe i'll be warmer next time it snows

i hate being wet.

but if you be my friend

and teach me how to dash

maybe i won't be scared next time i get splashed

i don't like other people.

but if you reach out first

and teach me it's okay

maybe next time i'll jump in when your family starts to play

i can't sleep very well.

but if you take me in

and show me how to cuddle

maybe next time i'll be snoozing when you need someone to snuggle

i hate you.

i won't let you touch me

i won't let you be my friend

i won't let you reach out

i won't let you take me in

you're untrustworthy

and bad

you're scary

and sad

i hate you

i hate you

i hate—

i'm always cold.

let me sit in the snow.

don't touch me. don't hold me.

i know where to go.

i know how to run. i learned how to talk.

i know where to sleep. i hate how you balk

when your family tries to comfort you.

so why should i be any different too?

Chapter Text

"Boniface, what are you doing?"

Bonnie didn't look up, focused on pushing a small bowl of leftovers out onto the inn's steps. Once it was far enough away to satisfy them, they dusted off their hands and stayed sitting on their knees.

"Feeding Fleur."

"Feeding who?"

"Fleur." Bonnie looked up at Odile. "I think she's a cat that's been following us."

"Boni—"

"I know I shouldn't feed strays," Bonnie cut her off, "but you should've heard her cry! She sounds so sad when she doesn't eat. An' I figured, since frin doesn't eat much 'cause he's still sick, that, um…"

"That their leftovers might as well go to somebody."

Bonnie nodded. Odile leaned against the post behind them, crossing her arms.

"Have you seen this Fleur of yours?"

"No," Bonnie admitted. "But I know she's a cat. I've heard her purring while she eats."

"That so."

"Mhm! And th' food's always all gone after. She's a hungry kitty!"

"Do you think, if we stayed quiet. We could see this cat of yours?"

Bonnie bounced on their knees and nodded, eyes sparkling. Odile winced when her knees creaked in protest of sitting down beside them, Bonnie huddling closer once she was down. Their indoor clothes didn't save them from the bite of the winter wind, it seems.

"So," she hummed. "Why Fleur?"

"B'cause after the first time I fed her, she left me a flower; an' she left one every time after that. She doesn't leave them anymore though, because all the flowers are dead 'cause it's winter time."

A cat that leaves flowers? "Are you sure you're feeding a cat, Boniface?"

Bonnie nodded vigorously. "I saw a bit of her once! She's a black cat! All lightless with big eyes that shine in th' sun!"

Must be some cat. Odile hoped she came sooner rather than later, the cold was starting to cut through her long coat.

Something rattled by the steps, startling them both to attention. Something purred, chirped and peered out from behind one of the posts. Bonnie's "cat" was almost as tall as they were, with a mess of lightless hair barely avoiding hiding an eye with a piralling spupil. Its lightless cloak hid everything but a shaking, clawed hand gripping the post as it purred again.

Bonnie huddled close to Odile again, this time more out of fear. The shadow of their traveller moved out from behind the post, gripping the clips of its cloak nervously. It chirped at Bonnie, then flinched back and hissed when Odile moved to stand up.

"Hold on, Dile!" Bonnie held out their hand. "Don't get up!"

She stopped moving, unsure what to make of the shadow doppelganger before them. Once it was sure she wasn't coming after them, the shadow Siffrin took hesitant steps closer until it was at the base of the steps.

"That's Fleur!" Bonnie whispered excitedly, watching the shadow lean up the steps and drag the plate of leftovers closer to itself. "I know the purr! I've heard it!"

"That is not a cat."

"But it's her!"

Fleur chriped and looked up at them. Long lightless claws flashed as it ate, stuffing apple slices into its mouth like it hadn't eaten in weeks. As long as those claws stayed away from Odile and Bonnie, she could care less where else they went.

After having its fill, Fleur reached under its cloak and dropped two hard things on the plate. Bonnie was the first to discover what they were, spooking Fleur into bolting as they ran to the plate and excitedly called back: "it's candy!!"

Plum and cataloupe flavoured.

Why does her head hurt?

Chapter Text

You weren't sure how long you were out here. Long enough for you to lose feeling of your toes and fingers, that was for sure. Maybe digging them into the snow whenever your head started to hurt wasn't the best idea.

The sound of music and chatter from the inn was reduced to white noise as you stared at the sky. The stars—the universe—winked back at you, friends and ancestors and who knows who else watching over you as you tried to trace constellations with your gaze. Your family wouldn't notice you were gone for some time; Petronille had taken Bonnie to bed, Odile had fallen asleep reading on the couch, Mira had escaped to have time alone herself and Isabeau was helping to round up other exhausted kids up by the time you slipped out. You felt a little bad for leaving the work of finding everyone to him, but you had to get out. The smoke and laughter from other people started to get suffocating and you had a burning urge to see the stars again.

Shoes crunching in the snow brought you back to Vaugarde. Judging by the weight, you thought it was Bonnie until you heard what sounded like a raven trying to coo like a dove. Looking back, you found yourself being stared down by Bonnie's weird shadowy copy of you, Fleur.

"Oh. It's you." You looked back at the sky. "Am I wanted inside?"

Fleur cooed again.

"Just give me a minute."

"I…You…"

Fleur coughed harshly. You wanted to pat its back to try and help it, but the last time you tried to touch Fleur it bit you, so you watch in concern instead. It was sort of pitiful, watching the poor thing suffer just because it wanted to talk.

"I thought…" Fleur gasped, then tried again. "I thought…You…"

"Take your time," you soothed.

"I thought…You were smarter than this."

You flinched when its raspy voice became a perfect imitation of Odile. "Wh—What?"

"Afrer all—it's so cold—should be inside with us—go get—warm."

Its voice switched jankily between your family's voices, some of them sounding more hollow than others. Isabeau's was unmistakable towards the end. He must have noticed you were gone and sent Fleur to come and get you.

"What's your name?"

"Fleur!" A perfect imitation of Bonnie.

"No, your name. When we first met—" when it tried to kill you, when it made you fall into despair, "—you were Mal Du Pays."

Fleur snarled. "Fleur! I'm—the—favourite frin! Never see—you—anymore."

You winced and ducked into your collar. It was true, you haven't spent much time with Bonnie these days, whereas Fleur followed them around like a puppy. You should make time for them now that you're on your feet.

"I don't understand why you're so attached to—those dots in the sky?"

Fleur was looking up when you looked back at them, its eye scanning the sky with no understanding of what to look for. It flopped in the snow beside you when you patted the space next to you.

"Those are stars," you explained. "They're comforting for me. You don't feel it?"

"Comfort?" It echoed in your voice.

"They're my last tie to home." You traced a long-forgotten shape in the sky with your finger, Fleur leaning closer to you to watch. "See this? It makes up the, um, sionnach éadrom—it's the fox of Cathal, when it was killed trying to save him, he—he threw its corpse into the sky and it became a constellation. This one is the capall spéir—pretty self explanatory, this is the horse that guides travelers in their forays. See, it's hoof always points north. And this—"

A harsh wind suddenly blew, pushing your breath back down your throat and making you choke. You felt an oncoming headache when you could breathe again, but you wanted to hold on to these memories for just a little longer.

You started to recount more shapes in the sky when you noticed Fleur shiver. Its shoulders shook as it stared up unblinkingly at the sky, lightless tears freezing a path down its face. It stayed expressionless regardless, but the spiral in its pupil starting to turn meant something was wrong.

"Fleur?"

Fleur snapped its head towards you at the sound of your whisper. Its words were lost on you, though it must have read the concerned look on your face as it tried again, once more mimicking Odile as it echoed the question you sometimes still heard rattling around in your skull: "If you don't have memories of your own childhood, can you still consider yourself human?"

You…Still don't have an answer for that. Mal Du Pays stared you down expectantly, waiting for an answer you both knew you didn't have, until it finally gave up and went back inside without you.

By the time Isabeau came out to get you himself, you were perfectly happy to freeze to death to avoid facing the sadness again.

Chapter Text

Bonnie tugged Fleur along, weaving through the crowd with the ease of someone who grew up in a small town as their strange friend struggled and whined trying to keep up. How a human pre-teen has more energy than a monster was beyond Fleur. They made it seem like an amateur, jumping over obstacles it stumbled into and shouting apologies to people it tripped up.

"You need to run more often," Bonnie teased it, finally slowing when they were back in earshot of the adults. "Or I'm gonna find a lead for ya."

Fleur ducked its chin, pulling its hat down over its eye. For some reason, new sights and sounds tempted it to wander; trying to find the source to watch human activity for a little while. The group was nice, but it could only wring so much enjoyment out of watching them travel. Some of them tried to get it to join them in certain activities—keeping watch, reading, making food, hunting, fishing—but those were activities for humans, not a however sentient sadness, so wandering it was. Bonnie was usually the one tasked to find it again, as Fleur and Siffrin avoided each other like a plague. Repelled each other, really.

Ever since that night under the stars, the thought of interacting with Siffrin again made Fleur feel something tightening in its stomach. It was better if it pretended the other didn't exist.

One of the adult members of the group joined them, interrupting Bonnie listing off whatever they were talking about as Fleur moved its hat up again. It was the taller one, older, what was her name?

Not important. She's talking. Focus.

"…warmer, for Isabeau's poor fingers."

Bonnie laughed, oblivious to Fleur's confusion. "He can't take spicy food and he gets cold easy! How is he alive?!"

"Sheer luck." The woman shifted the book she held in her arms. "But, it would complicate things if he showed up in Ka Bue missing any fingers, so we must entertain his concerns. For now."

"I'll make chili, that'll warm him up!" Bonnie grabbed Fleur's hands and bounced with them. "Fleur! Help me make chili!"

"You're mean," Fleur whined in the big man's voice. "You know—he won't—eat—chili—if it's made by—Bonnie."

"Ah, but they won't be making it with just you." The slender woman ruffled Bonnie's hair, getting an exaggerated squawk. "I'll take the blame. Now, it's about time we actually got the rooms. Come along, you two."

Bonnie bounded after her, and Fleur went wherever they did, so it followed suit like a disorted shadow. They easily took its hand when it strayed close enough and started talking again, verbally running through the ingredients they needed as the slender woman cut in every so often. Fleur walked into them when they stopped sudddenly, barely flinching at the collision.

"We don't have chili powder!!"

"I'm sure the kitchen has some," the slender woman said, an edge to her voice. "Boniface, let's go—"

"Just a minute Fleur stay here I have some spare coins I can grab a bag goodbye!!!"

Bonnie threw its hand down and bolted back the way they came, ignoring the slender woman shouting for them. Fleur gave chase as well as it could, ramming into people to make them move if they got in its way and obstructed its view of the child, but Bonnie managed to lose it regardless. Turning in a small circle, it realized it couldn't see nor hear the slender woman, either.

Joy. It really didn't want to sleep outside, now that it'd gotten used to sleeping at the foot of the bed Bonnie shared with the sweet-smelling woman.

Fleur didn't have long to ponder its conundrum when the ground practically began to shake from the deep bark of a dog. Snarling from fight, Fleur backpedaled away, only to discover the dog wasn't barking at it—it was barking at Bonnie, straining against a rope leash and nearly pulling its handler off their feet. Bonnie backed towards the road, hugging themself and holding their arm at a strange angle—

Fleur was on the move again, shoving past the growing startled crowd and lunging at the massive dog with an enraged shriek. The canine yelped and backed up when Fleur's claws raked at its eye; apparently taking it out judging by something squishing underfoot. Bonnie squeaked, the dog's handler screamed and dropped the lead, the dog snapped in the direction of the preteen and all bets were off.

Sadnesses weren't supposed to be fighters. Fleur had claws, but they were for pulling at its hair or cloak collar, not for trying to rip the heart out of a dog. Said dog was more of a fighter; with thick, dense fur and sharp teeth that broke through Fleur's skin like it was made of tissue paper. Common sense told it to back off, Bonnie screaming made them lock onto the dog's throat with the claws of one hand and hold on to its shoulders with the other as the canine tried bucking it off. The handler's cries be blinded, the dog hurt Bonnie, it had to die it had to pay it had to suffer suffer suff—

Something solid forced Fleur off the dog, something in the dog's neck giving way at the same moment. The creature hit the ground and Fleur lunged again, raking at whoever grabbed their arm to try and hold them back—

Bonnie yelped in pain. The rage clouding Fleur's mind faded a little as it looked back, watching them grip their arm as blood started to flow from a long gash. If Fleur had blood, it would run ice cold.

"Bonnie I'm sorry—Bonnie I'm sorry—Bonnie I'm sorry—"

Strong hands shoved it back and the owner stepped in, hiding Bonnie from Fleur's view. The dog's handler had a splatter of lightless liquid on them and looked furious.

"You killed my crabbing dog," They snarled. "You gotta pay."

"Why did you protect me, all those times?"

It was shoved again as another person stepped into view, then another. Fleur's speech turned into nonsense as it stood on the tips of its toes trying to see Bonnie. The dog's handler was at the forefront of the little crowd, their hands either tightened into fists or ready to Craft. When Fleur caught a glimpse of Bonnie, they were being held and questioned by another person who was trying to reassure them.

They were in tears. Fleur had to get to them. Fleur had to keep them safe.

It jumped back to try and route the crowd, noticing too late the carriage barreling towards it. The horses went one way, the carriage another; tilting onto its side and crashing into Fleur with the weight of four people inside.

It picked out Bonnie screaming for it before it hurt to think.

It didn't know how long it was a shapeless mass before pulling itself upwards again, shivering from the cold and from pain. The streets were dark and empty, the only living thing around being a stray cat. Its whole body hurt, and it was hungry.

They were supposed to have chilli tonight. It was going to make it with Bonnie. Where was Bonnie? Did they leave without it?

Another shiver racked its body. Hugging itself tightly, Mal Du Pays dragged its feet over to a nearby alleyway and curled up against the side of a drafty house. The smell of something delicious lingered, leaving it pressing its cheek against one of the cracks between the logs to chase the scent as far as it could.

It drifted off tucked close against the wall, dreaming of small hands guiding its own and the thick smell of sauce filling the room.