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“Crab,” Pétronille muttered into the top of her sibling’s head, holding them tightly against her chest. From this angle, they could probably hear her heart, rabbiting away, loud and raw. She’s unable to smother it, nor does she want to.
This way, Bonnie is able to hear how worried she was without her needing to put words to the embarrassing feelings.
“Crab, Bon,” she repeated, loosening her grip the moment Bonnie began to squirm, letting them draw away just enough that she could see their face. She doesn’t let them go further than that, squishing their face between her hands. “You went adventuring?! Without me?!”
“Heheh,” Bonnie giggled, their own face damp with tears but still bearing a sinister grin. “Are you. . . jealous?”
“The most jealous!” Pétronille screamed at their face, immediately pulling them back into their arms and holding them tight, tight, tight. “So good to see you again, kid!” Her gaze centered on their hat for the first time, resting firmly atop their head, trapped between her shoulder and their forehead. “Aw, and you got a new hat! Good to know they’ve been taking care of you.”
“I know!” Bonnie pulled back, pointing back towards the party, awkwardly kicking their feet a stone’s throw away, waiting for their reunion to wrap up. “Frin lost their hat, and I guess liked their head better when they didn’t have it, so when we found it again they gave it to me! And Dile’s been buying me cold clothes, and Za won’t let me cook unless I put some vegetables in, but that’s okay because I’m such a good cook you can’t taste it!”
“That’s great, Bonbon!” Pétronille celebrated, feeling a familiar self-loathing creep into her throat. They were taking better care of her sibling then she ever could, weren’t they?”
A tall foreign looking woman, lightless hair pulled back into a tight pun, lips thinned into a frown, took a step forward. She offered her hand out to Pétronille, still on the ground. “My name is Madame Odile. You must be Boniface’s sister.”
“Yes,” Pétronille agreed, frowning at the woman and giving her hand a quick shake. She supposed she had to stand up eventually, but didn’t care to, yet. Bonnie’s lower half was still trapped between her crossed legs. “That’s me.”
“I apologize,” Madame Odile said – pretentious, much? – still frowning. “Boniface has yet to use your name. . . ?”
“Pétronille.” She introduced, as much as it irked her, letting Bonnie go fully. They rolled away, and she got to her own feet.”
“It’s good to meet you, Madame Pétronille.” Madame Odile nodded, turning away to gesture at the rest of the group. “This is Mirabelle, Isabeau, and Siffrin.”
The first two raised their hands in turn, but the third didn’t move from where they were draped against Isabeau’s back, piggy-back style. They looked to be sleeping, eye closed, breath shallow.
They didn’t even stir at the sound of their own name.
Nobody seemed bothered by this, moving past like it was the least significant thing that had happened all day.
“No, no,” Bonnie said, pulling on Pétronille’s hand. “You can use my nicknames for them! It’s easier to remember, anyway! It’s Dile, Belle, Za, and Frin!”
“No fair,” Mirabelle, Belle, whatever gasped, eyes rounding with distress. “We’re not allowed to use your super special nicknames, Bonnie!”
“Yeah, well, you’re not my sister!” Bonnie shouted at them. “Nille’s cool, so she can!”
Pétronille snickered, giving them a nod. “Yeah, stick it to the man, Bon!”
Bonnie grinned up at her, but if they were going to say anything else, it was interrupted by a wide-mouthed yawn. They smacked their lips a few times when they were done, and switched to giving Pétronille the most puppy-dogged eyes she had ever seen. “I want to go home! Can we go home yet?”
“Duh, of course!” Pétronille responded. “Been away far too long, don’t you think? All your stuffies miss you!”
“Stuffies?” Isabeau, Za, said, eyes sparkling with delight.
“Nuh-uh!” Bonnie scoffed back at them, ducking beneath their new hat and successfully hiding their whole face from view. “I’m a big kid. I don’t got stuffies.”
“No, no,” Belle responded seriously, “Of course not.”
Were they making fun of Bonnie, or was it a real tease, like between friends, or between–
Pétronille carefully didn’t use the word ‘family’, even while thinking about it. It was bad enough reading about how close they got over the course of letters sent over the last three weeks. It would be complicated seeing it for herself, but she was a growncrab woman.
She could handle it.
She owed them for looking after Bonnie.
And, saving the country, she guessed.
“I don’t have a lot of room,” Pétronille confessed to them. “You might need to get an inn in-town unless floor-beds sound appealing to you.”
“As long as you’re okay with it,” Za said kindly, “the floor-bed sounds nice. At least until Sif’s awake and can say what he’s comfortable with.”
Pétronille’s gaze snapped back to his passenger. She wondered what was wrong with the guy. Did he have narcolepsy or something? Was he sick?
She couldn’t help but admit that she was grateful that they had come anyway. That they had brought Bonnie back to her as soon as possible, without waiting.
“Well, then.” She said, gesturing for them to follow after her and Bonnie. “Let’s go back to the house, then.”
(<|O|>)
There weren't enough chairs to go around. There was barely enough seating space with the couch in play. Za and Frin commandeered it while Dile and Belle claimed the extra two chairs that Pétronille dragged out from various corners of the house.
Frin slept for the majority of the evening, waking up only briefly to pick at some of the food on the plate that Za had served up for them. And then they were asleep again, slumped against Za’s shoulder and then later against the arm of the couch.
“Sorry,” Belle said with a small smile. “Due to, um, circumstances, Siffrin ended up getting pretty sick. The Housemaidens say he needs just a lot of rest, and it should help! But we, um. Didn’t really wait around Dormont? Ha. . . We’re hoping he can get that rest here! In Bambouche, I mean.”
“They were so excited to meet you,” Bonnie said, dipping under that hat again and disappearing from view.
Pétronille frowned, wanting to chase after her sibling and see their expression. They used to be so open with their emotions, what happened?
Bonnie continued, still hidden as they picked at their food. Pétronille couldn’t tell if they just don’t have an appetite or if they were so worried they lost it. “So they’ll wake up soon to say hi! They’ve gotta.”
Right, of course. Frin had to.
As the night crept on, the party went through the motions, spreading out their own sleeping bags across the floor and smiling at each other.
“Can I stay with you guys?” Bonnie asked desperately, rocking back and forth on their heels.
“Hey!” Pétronille said in offense. “What about your nice, warm bed? I washed everything just the other day! Put a bit of heat craft into it! Trust me, Bon, you’ll sleep like a baby.”
Bonnie, shockingly, did not look too thrilled about that. They frowned up at Pétronille, and then immediately hid their face at whatever expression she bore. “Fine. But if anything happens I demand to be woken up! You can’t hide it from me!”
Za sent Pétronille a look that said, very clearly, ‘we will not be waking them up, it will be a morning conversation’, and said “Of course, Bonbon! First person we wake up!”
Bonnie nodded quickly, still hidden from view. They approached Frin and kneeled down to grab their limp hand, squeezing it tightly between their palms. “You’re gonna be okay, Frin, okay?”
Frin, predictably, did not respond.
(<|O|>)
The next morning, Frin woke up enough to shake Pétronille’s hand. They looked exhausted, a bag sunk permanently under their eye and bearing a smile that was syrupy and almost fake looking. “Hi,” they said softly. “I’m Siffrin. You’re Pétronille, right?”
Pétronille blinked. Nobody had known her name yet. All three had asked her to repeat her name at least once already.
How did Frin know, when nobody else had?
She didn’t press for details.
“That’s me,” she said instead. “It’s good to meet you.”
They looked so impossibly sad. “Thank you.”
They were asleep again within the next two minutes.
(<|O|>)
They make the decision easily enough as the days creep on.
Frin stayed permanently on the couch, and the rest of the party rented a couple rooms at the inn in town. They rotated the party member that stayed overnight, starting with Za and then Belle.
It was going to be Dile’s night the day Belle peeled off Frin’s eyepatch and gasped so loudly that the rest of the party startled, snapping over to crowd around to see what she was looking at.
The darkless, sappy liquid was unmistakably puss, coating the socket and the eyepatch itself. Pétronille hadn’t realized he was missing an eye.
She thought it was a lazy eye or something, but this. . .
Made a lot more sense. Didn’t Belle say that they were injured? Of course she meant the eye.
Pétronille had seen very few scars that looked like that, but she could tell what made it in an instant. Paper Craft. Was that the King’s Craft type?
“It’s been over a month,” Za said, voice thin and wobbly. Pétronille blinked, caught off guard. The timing was all wrong, wasn’t it? “How’d it get infected?”
“That can happen. . .” Dile admitted slowly. “It shouldn’t have, but it’s. . . a delayed reaction. Their body has been in survival mode, which pushed it to its limits. Now that everything’s over, his body is finally reacting to. . . the everything that’s supposed to be over.”
“Of course,” Belle sorrowfully mourned, pressing her fingers carefully against Frin’s socket. She closed her eyes, and the billow of Craft poured into the hole.
Pétronille turned away. It seemed intimate, and maybe a little gross, and she didn’t know any of them – even though they had been in her house for almost three days now – well enough to justify it. She especially didn’t know Frin, who, arguably, had the opinion that mattered the most.
She met Bonnie’s eye, standing a short distance away.
Oh.
She hadn’t thought that Bonnie would be paying so much attention, but of course they were. They were a smart kid. Thoughtful.
They shouldn’t have to see this.
Crab, how much have they seen in the past?
“Bon!” Pétronille gasped, running at her sibling. “Hey, woah, let’s take you out of here, okay? Let’s go find a board game or something to play!”
“Oh no,” Belle cried behind them. “Pétronille, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking–!”
Pétronille ignored her. Right now, their most important subject was Bonnie. While she did manage to get a glimpse of darkening cheeks and wide, glossy eyes before they’re ducking their head under that stupid crabbing hat–
How many times had they done this since they got home?
How many times had they refused to let Pétronille see their expression, whether good or bad?
If it wasn’t official already, Pétronille could say it now with certainty. She really hated the hat. She didn’t care if it was a gift or whatever, she didn’t care if it was important to Bonnie, because they were using it as a way to hide from her!
They had never hidden from her before. They had never tried–!
Bonnie took a step away from her. “I’m fine I’m fine I’m a big kid!” They spewed out all at once, lifting one hand to scrub at their face, still hidden away. “But will Frin be okay?! Is their eye still bad?! I thought– I thought it was s’pposed to be doing better!”
“It is!” Belle cried.
“It’s supposed to be.” Dile agreed.
“It’s going to be fine, Bonbon!” Za promised hurriedly, smiling in that anxious way that Pétronille was starting to not trust. “Mira’s going to take care of them. Just watch! They’re going to feel better in no time.”
Bonnie kicked at the ground angrily. “I don’t believe you!
“No, really!” Za said, getting up from the couch to start to approach them.
Bonnie reeled back, and once again, Pétronille got a glimpse of a tear-stained face before they grabbed the brim of their hat and pulled it down over their head, spinning around on their heel and ran.
Pétronille could hear their bedroom door slam.
“Crab,” Za cursed.
“Change,” Pétronille agreed, tightening her fists at her side. What was she supposed to do? She wasn’t equipped for any of this!
She didn’t know how to handle Bonnie anymore!
Sometimes, she just wanted to scream.
(<|O|>)
Bonnie showed up to help prepare dinner. Or, rather, bully Pétronille away from the stove so they could do it themselves.
They didn’t ask about Frin once.
They didn’t let anyone see their face for the entirety of the cooking time or the actual dinner time.
Pétronille felt like she was cursed to always wear her shoes on the wrong feet. They fit, but it was stilted and awkward.
She. . . didn’t know what to do.
(<|O|>)
Later on that night, Pétronille found herself alone with Dile. Frin was still sleeping on the couch, a plethora of bandages replacing their eyepatch, tonics cluttering the side table, ready to be used instead of Belle’s healing craft.
One of Dile’s hands was massaging her forehead, the other nursing a warm cup of tea.
“Can I be honest with you, Madame?” Pétronille asked tiredly, resting her own head on her hand, fingers resting against her eyelid.
Dile took a sip of tea, waving Pétronille on.
“It’s just. The hat.” Pétronille admitted, groaning. “It’s that stupid blinding hat. I just. . . I hate Bon wearing it. Or having it at all. They’re using it to hide, and I don’t. . . I know it’s probably not the hat’s fault, but even their old hat wasn’t that big! It makes it. . . too easy.”
“Too easy.” Dile agreed as she nodded painfully. “I’m afraid it may be ‘the hat’s fault’, as you so crudely put it. Or Siffrin’s, anyway.” She shook her head. “I’m starting to suspect that the only reason Siffrin has not requested their hat back is because they were too out of it to care. If they were in perfect health, they doubtlessly would be wanting it back by now.”
“I don’t get it.” Pétronille grumbled. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Dile’s gaze slithered away. “For as long as I’ve known them, Siffrin has used their hat to. . . hide, for lack of better phrasing. Ducking away from uncomfortable conversations, hiding expressions, not letting us see any emotion that they deem to be ‘embarrassing’.”
Oh. Pétronille thought she was starting to get it.
“That could be anger, that could be sadness, it could be guilt or love. At this point I’m starting to suspect it was especially love that they were trying to hide.” Dile continued, voice growing harsh. “Shatter it, they’re horrible at communicating, even on the basic level of body language.”
“So you think the– the hat passed over the want to hide?!” Pétronille spluttered.
“What? No– I mean, yes, but not nearly anything so fantastical.” Dile set down her mug on the counter, adjusting her hand’s position against her head. She massaged her right temple. “It’s simply that Boniface is a child. A young, impressionable one. It’s only natural for them to copy shown behavior.”
Oh. Of course.
“It’s difficult for them to differentiate between a bad and a good role model. Perhaps we did not do the best job at. . . monitoring that.” Dile sighed, giving her head a small shake. “It didn’t help that in the early days, Siffrin was closest to Boniface, and that’s. Stuck.”
Pétronille clenched her hands, groaning into them. “Am I supposed?? To like them?”
Dile tensed. “Siffrin? Yes, I mean, ideally. You would. But you can’t help who you like or don’t like, I just. . . Ask that you withhold judgement until you have a real conversation with them. I admit, I did not like them much at first, but I learned rather quickly that. . .”
Pétronille shook her head, and Dile cut herself off.
“It’s not that. It’s just. They took! My sibling from me! They won’t look at me, they won’t talk to me, and they’re always hiding under that crabbing hat!” Pétronille spat, slamming her fist onto the table.
Tensing, Dile’s eyes snapped to Frin still sleeping on the couch, and then back to Pétronille.
“Crab,” Pétronille said, sinking into her seat as guilt clawed at her heart. “Sorry, sorry, I just– I’m worried. I’m worried. I’m allowed to be worried.”
“Yes,” Dile agreed quietly. “You most certainly are. Listen, Pétronille, this isn’t easy for any of us. We’re all attempting to learn how to rear a child for the first time. There are going to be hard moments. We can’t be perfect examples all the time. There will be mistakes.”
. . . Pétronille knew what Dile was saying. That Siffrin made a mistake.
It still made her upset. Dile couldn’t change that.
“Look,” Dile sighed, dredging up a timid smile. “I can talk to Boniface in the morning. Perhaps it would be. . . good to have them go without the hat for a little while.”
Pétronille’s stomach rolled. “No, no, I can talk to them. I’m their big sister, their main caretaker! It should be my job.”
Dile relaxed. “That you are. You have full. . . authority over Boniface. Whatever you tell us, we’ll follow your lead.”
Pétronille didn’t know she needed that comfort until that moment. She crumpled into herself, shuddering. “O-oh. Thank you, Madame Dile. . .”
“Of course.” Dile murmured back, and patted Pétronille’s hand.
(<|O|>)
Pétronille made breakfast before Bonnie woke up the next morning. She would doubtlessly suffer their wrath later, but right now. . . right now she needed to gather her thoughts, and staying busy was the best way to do that.
When Bonnie showed up, they took one look at the spread and their eyebrows furrowed. They looked angry, for once not trying to hide their expression. “Why would–?”
“Bonnie, may we. . .” she hesitated, and then held up the two plates she had served up for them. “Let’s eat on the porch, okay? I want to talk to you.”
Bonnie’s head snapped over to stare at the couch, and Dile gave them a thumbs-up from where she was pressing a cool rag against Frin’s forehead. “Siffrin is fine, Boniface. Go with your sister. We can talk later.”
“Fine,” Bonnie huffed, spinning back around to march to the front door. They flung it open, but thankfully it slowed to a stop before it could slam.
Pétronille closed it behind them with her foot instead once she joined them.
Bonnie sat on one of the porch chairs, and Pétronille took the other, putting the plates on the small table between them. Bonnie glared at the food, the tilt of their head allowing the hat to cover them again and–
Pétronille swallowed, reaching out to grab the brim of the hat. She pulled it off their head, and Bonnie startled, head snapping up to stare at her, wide-eyed.
“Oh,” Pétronille said softly, looking at the way their bottom lip jutted out and their jaw was clamped and how their eyes were wet with tears and hair was in disarray from not being brushed this morning and they looked sad, which wasn’t good, but it was better then looking like nothing at all. She smiled at them, heart twisting. “There’s my little sibling.”
Bonnie pouted, eyes growing even more damp as they gazed at Pétronille, shaking. “What d’ya mean? I’ve been here for days!”
“Yes,” Pétronille agreed, frowning. “But I haven’t seen you for a while. You’re always hiding beneath that hat.” She pulled back just to shove it under her chair, and then went back to looking at them.
“So what?” Bonnie said, shoulders hunching up to their ears. “It’s a good hat!”
“It is,” Pétronille agreed. It was hard to disagree that it was high-quality, but. . . “But you use it so that I can’t see when you’re sad.”
Bonnie flinched.
Pétronille hated that it meant they were somewhat aware of their actions. “Why are you sad, Bon?”
“It’s nothing!” Bonnie spat vehemently, shrinking away from her. “It’s– it’s nothing at all! It–! It–!”
Pétronille said nothing, just waited for them to finish. She was not going to give them their hat back until they actually talked to her.
“It’s just Frin.” Bonnie finally said in defeat, deflating. “They keep getting hurt and sometimes it’s because of me and sometimes it’s just them being stupid! But it was my fault they lost their eye and now it’s hurt again and they said if it got infected it would get worse but then they said they’d be fine but they’re not fine!”
Oh.
Oh, that was a lot. Pétronille knew that traveling with the party was probably rough, but for their eye to be. . .
“How was it your fault?” Pétronille asked, gentle.
“They jumped in front of a Sadness!” Bonnie cried. “I could’ve handled it, I know I could’ve, but they. . . They're so selfish. Always thinking of themselves, and I hate it I really really do!”
Oh, crab. Pétronille reached out her arms for Bonnie, and they burrowed straight into her arms, shaking. It wasn’t quite tears, but it was something crab well close. “Hey, hey. . .”
“They coulda died,” Bonnie mumbled into Pétronille’s arm. “And then what would they have done? I hate them. I hate them, I hate them!”
Pétronille knew Bonnie didn’t really mean that. She had seen how excited they had gotten over their hat, how much they preened as they introduced everyone, how badly they wanted Frin to properly meet her–
They didn’t hate her. But that didn’t mean they weren’t hurt. That didn’t mean they weren’t confused.
Pétronille hugged Bonnie a little tighter. “That’s not nice to say, Bon.” She said gently, “And I know you don’t mean it.”
“No. . .” Bonnie sniffled. “But if I don’t like them, they’ll stop getting hurt!
“That’s not how this works,” Pétronille told them. “I know it hurts you, I know you don’t like it, but. . . If there’s one thing I’ve seen, it’s that everyone cares for you very much.” There was still a twist of jealousy as she admitted it, but she shoved it down. “I’m happy you found people who would get hurt from you, because that’s what you’re supposed to do for kids! Look at me, Bon.”
Bonnie stared at her, wide-eyed.
“I’ve told you before that I want to travel, but I can’t because I’m taking care of you.” Pétronille explained. “That’s a sacrifice I made. And one I would make again, because I want you to have the best life.”
“B-but you can travel with us now!” Bonnie cried. “You can come!”
Oh. Did they want that? That was so kind of them–
But not the point. Not right now.
“I can.” Pétronille agreed. “But it was still a choice I made. If– I get that losing an eye is worse. But I’m glad I still have my little sibling. I wouldn’t have you anymore if they didn’t do that.”
“B–but–!”
“Whatever attack that Sadness made, it had them lose an eye, and they’re an adult. You’re a squishy little kid. How much worse would it have been?” Pétronille challenged, pinching their cheeks.
“I hate it,” Bonnie blubbered. “I still hate it and I don’t want you or Frin to ever get hurt again and it’s not fair! You coulda been frozen in time forever, too!”
Oh. Yeah, that was true. But. . .
Pétronille held them tight. “I know, Bon. I know. But we feel the same way about you. We hate you being hurt or killed.”
Bonnie sniffled. They understood.
“Now.” Pétronille said, pulling back and smiling at them. “No more hiding, okay? Now that I have you back, I want to see my little sibling’s face, forever and always!”
Bonnie paused, eyes wide and sad. “Does that mean no more hat?”
“I’d rather not.” Pétronille frowned. “Maybe just on special occasions. Just sometimes.”
Bonnie rubbed their nose on their arm. “I– I can do that.”
“Okay.” Pétronille smiled. “Then that’s what we’ll do. I love you very much, Bon.”
“Love you too, Nille.” Bonnie muttered, and crawled back into her arms.
Pétronille hugged them back tightly. She was so glad to have them back. All of them.