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1
At the time, all Isabeau could really think was that, well, that it was like something out of a story.
A party of brave adventurers on a noble quest, taken off guard by a stray sadness. A difficult fight, one that they could (probably) win, but not without taking a few more hits than any of them would really prefer to. But just when all hope seemed lost, a flurry of movement, a flash of steel, the sadness falls and reveals behind it a mysterious stranger with a sharp weapon and a small, slightly awkward smile.
“Hi,” they said, quiet, incongruous with the way they expertly flicked the viscera off their blade and disappeared it into their cloak. “Um, ‘knife’ to meet you?”
…
Yeah, Isabeau never really stood a chance.
2
Isabeau liked to think that he was a pretty emotionally mature person. So, yeah, an extremely competent fighter had joined their group, one who was really funny and basically exactly Isabeau’s type. But he could handle it! It’s not like a life or death quest to save an entire country was a good time for interpersonal drama anyway!!
Plus, Siffrin was so new to the group; it might make it harder for him to get comfortable with everyone if he knew Isabeau was interested and he wasn’t.
So Isabeau harbored his little infatuation very quietly on his own in the first few weeks after Siffrin accepted the invitation to join their party. And, to be honest, it was… kind of nice. With all the fear and anger and worry that came with their journey and every frozen person they found along the way, it felt good to poke at his silly little crush every once in a while and remember that fun feelings existed.
Like, when Siffrin made a joke about being ‘bready’ to go to the bakery and Isabeau couldn’t help but dissolve into delighted laughter. Mira and M’dame both groaned exaggeratedly, but Siffrin grinned at Isabeau and laughed too, and oh, it was a cute laugh.
And it didn’t have to be anything more than that. He liked seeing Siffrin settle into the group, start relaxing and smiling more even if they didn’t really talk much. And sure, he daydreamed about kissing them sometimes, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t absolutely delightful to be their friend. So yeah, Isabeau compartmentalized and it worked out for everyone.
And then, of course, they made it to their first bigger town and Isabeau realized compartmentalization was a lot harder than he thought it would be.
Not a lot of Vaugardian food was made with seafood, but this town was along the coast and boasted more than a few restaurants. After weeks of field cooking and the occasional inn dinner, everyone was excited to have some variety.
They strolled down the main thoroughfare, Isabeau and Mirabelle taking turns trying to explain the plot of a mutually beloved book series to Odile – whose eyes had glazed over at about the time that the second fan-favorite side character came back to life as a villain – when they realized Siffrin was no longer trailing behind them.
“Oh, Siffrin?” He was stock still outside the entrance to one of the restaurants they had passed. They were breathing deeply, eyes wide. His expression was more open than Isabeau had ever seen it before. At Mira’s call, though, they started, and tucked their chin into their collar when they saw how far ahead everyone else had gotten.
“Sorry.”
“It’s no trouble!” Mira said easily, making her way back to Siffrin. She glanced curiously at the restaurant. “Did you want to eat here?”
Isabeau had followed behind Mira, and so had an excellent view of the way Siffrin glanced over at the restaurant, even as he hunched his shoulders further. Isabeau eyed the sign as well; the place seemed to specialize in seafood, and the smell drifting out the door was delightful.
“It looks good to me!” He said, and knew he had made the right choice when Siffrin raised their eyes hopefully.
“We haven’t had fish in a while,” M’dame said, having made her way back and now plucking at the curtain that covered the doorway. “I hope we don’t need a reservation.”
They didn’t, and soon they were seated with menus in front of them. Siffrin had barely glanced at his menu before seeming to decide, and was bouncing quietly in his seat.
“Do you like fish, Siffrin?” He asked.
“Yeah,” they replied. “I used to eat a lot of food like this. I mean, I think.”
You think? Isabeau raised an eyebrow, but before he could ask the waiter approached their table and asked if they were ready to order. Having barely looked at his own menu, Isabeau just ordered the same thing as Siffrin. He didn’t really know what it was, but it would be a fun surprise.
When their dishes were brought out, though, Isabeau barely even glanced at it. How could he, when Siffrin was being so… well…
The food had barely been placed in front of him, but Siffrin had already lit up with more excitement than any of them had ever seen from him before. Their eyes were sparkling, an uncontrollable grin on their face as they took a deep sniff of the plate in front of them. They barely waited to make sure everyone else had been served before cutting off a piece of fish and shoving it in his mouth. The sparkle in his eyes somehow got even sparklier, and he immediately started shoving more food into his mouth. Oh change, he had little chipmunk cheeks, and he looked so happy? Isabeau wanted to tug them into his lap and pet their hair and hand feed the entire dish to them even though it would mean his fingers would smell like fish, and maybe when he was done he could do it again every day for the rest of his life?
Isabeau came to the realization that he’d been staring with no recollection of how long he’d been doing so.
He quickly blinked, and closed his mouth, and tried to look away without making it super obvious. Of course, as soon as he did he made eye contact with Odile. He froze, completely tanking any chance of appearing nonchalant, but M’dame just raised an eyebrow at him before tucking into her own food.
Face warm, he chugged some of his water to calm down before determinedly turning his attention to his own dinner. Get a grip, Isabeau, he admonished himself silently. Don’t make it weird.
He still took another look at the menu on the way out to confirm the name of what he and Siffrin had ordered. Just in case.
3
Bonnie was good for all of them. Isabeau felt a bit bad thinking it, knowing what Bonnie had lost in order to end up in their care, but it was undeniable that everyone brightened with them around. M’dame joked more, Mira seemed less caught up in her own anxieties, and Sif was showing a younger, more playful side, losing some of that mysterious edge that made them so hard to read.
Isabeau didn’t realize how much he had also fallen into pessimistic thoughts about their journey and dwelling on the future until he found himself instead drawn into debates on whether or not pierogi were superior to dumplings.
Bonbon had originally been deciding by themself, standing between the two stalls and debating which to get as a batch to bring with them on the road that afternoon. But when they had seemed to be settling on pierogi, M’dame jumped in with a surprisingly impassioned counterargument in favor of dumplings.
It could have ended there, but then it turned out that Mira had taken a pierogi making class during her time in Dormont and had some strong opinions on the subject. And, well, that left M’dame outnumbered, and far be it from Isabeau to abandon a friend in need…
Twenty minutes later, they were no closer to an answer, both stall owners were looking increasingly harried, and Isabeau’s heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.
“FRIN!” Bonnie demanded as Sif wandered back over to their group. “You’re the tiebreaker! Which is better, pierogi or dumplings?”
“Hmm…” Sif stared off into space, long enough that Isa wondered if he was in one of his quiet moods and wouldn’t answer at all. Eventually though, they shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, they’re both just wet pies.”
“…”
“I’m sorry, WHAT?”
“Frin, what the CRAB is a wet pie??”
“Explain, now.”
Sif shrugged again, nonplussed. He held up his hands and mimed closing them together around an invisible object.
“Filling, inside of dough: that’s pie. But pierogi and dumplings are cooked with water instead of baking. So, they’re both wet pie. They’re the same.”
Oh change, Isabeau is pretty sure this is the most they’ve ever heard Sif say at one time, and for it to be such a terrible take? But also make a certain kind of appalling sense??
“That’s crabbing dumb, Frin!” Bonnie was waving their arms in the air, previous debate seemingly forgotten in the face of a new challenger. “Pie and dumplings are completely different! Pie is dessert!”
“I don’t know…” M’dame, horrifyingly, now seemed contemplative. “In a taxonomy of edible things, if you had the phylum as Food and the class as Pies, or crusted foods, then having an order below it that diverged and evolved under wet cooking conditions wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.”
“Madame!” Mira gasped, scandalized.
“Dile!! Don’t listen to that, that crazy talk!” Bonnie turned their flailing to him. “Za! Pie is pie, right? And dumplings are dumplings?”
Unfortunately, Isabeau could follow her logic. Even more unfortunately, now that he had gotten over the initial shocked rejection of the idea, it was kind of a fun thought exercise.
“I mean, in that classification, with the class as crusted foods there would also have to be an order for sandwiches, right? With a further subdivision between single and double slices of starch?”
“Oh, you’re right!” M’dame said, while at the same time Bonnie and Mira reeled back, clutching at each other.
“TRAITOR!” Bonnie wailed.
“But you have to know, in your heart, that they’re different!” Mira said. “Or are you going to tell me that ravioli is pie??”
“Well, under this classification system, it would technically count as wet pie,” M’dame smirked. “It’s logic.”
“Logic is a cold, unfeeling system that can never understand the truly beautiful things in this world!” Mira drew herself up to her full height, eyes blazing with righteous fury. “Like love! And pie!”
Isabeau let M’dame continue stirring the pot, glancing instead down at Sif, who was watching them all with a small smile on their face.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Sif ducked their head a little, but their grin only got bigger. “A little.”
“Tossing an apple of discord into the middle of this nice market day. That’s evil, Sif,” Isabeau shook his head in mock disappointment, even as his chest grew warm, watching the others bicker happily, watching Sif watch them, content.
“Does that mean you don’t want pie?” Isabeau blinked, and realized that Sif had produced a little pastry from one of their many pockets, smelling of warm sugar and cherries, and was holding it out to him. “I got them while you were all arguing the first time.”
Isabeau just knew he had the biggest, dopiest smile on his face. He tried to contain it as he reached for the pie, but his voice was still soft and affectionate as he said, “thanks, Sif.”
Sif glanced up at him, and Isa must have managed to reign his expression in a bit, because instead of looking freaked out, Sif just smiled back and then tugged his hat further over their eyes.
“You’re welcome, Isa,” he replied, and just at the crest of his cheekbones, Isabeau could see a fetching little flush.
Oh, Isabeau thought, and couldn’t really even bring himself to feel surprised. I really am in so much trouble, huh?
4
He'd actually managed to get a look at a craftology booklet that day, is the thing. His horoscope had even said that he should expect to ‘deal with mild confrontation.’ He’d attributed it to a potential battle with sadnesses, but he really should have known something was up when Odile asked him to go on a supply run with her, instead of his usual laundry duty with Mira.
Things had been tense, since the battle that had left Sif with one eye. Sif was the only one who seemed determined to laugh it off and move on; Mira was tense and guilty that her healing hadn’t come in time, Bonbon had barely talked to any of them in days, M’dame was trying to hold them all together, and Isabeau… he could admit that he maybe wasn’t handling it well.
At all.
He knew he was hovering, but he couldn’t manage to stop. For all their journey had been stressful and scary so far, none of them had ever gotten seriously hurt before. And without one eye, Sif had to relearn how to navigate without the added depth perception. They kept bumping into things on the road or at camp, and Isabeau, whose fingers were itching with the urge to soothe, to hug, to pick Sif up and carry him anywhere he needed to go for the rest of their lives, just wanted to be useful.
So, he kept making drinks, bringing things over instead of making Sif walk across camp for a cup or one of their daggers, taking over their chores while they recovered. And maybe it would actually make him feel better, get rid of the fear that had burrowed under his skin, except for the fact that it wasn’t working. Because Sif just seemed unsure and a bit uncomfortable under all the attention; it seemed like the more Isabeau tried to help the more Sif withdrew into himself. Isabeau tried to check in a few times, but they just laughed it off and insisted that they were fine. And Isabeau was trying so hard to believe it, but he couldn’t stop remembering the moment of Sif taking that blow, falling, so still that for a breathless moment Isabeau thought that he was- that he might have-
And now here he was, tromping through the woods towards a nearby town and trying to ignore the piercing looks that Odile kept shooting his way. Eventually, though, she seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to start the conversation himself and stopped with a sigh.
“Isabeau.”
Crab, he wasn’t getting out of this, was he?
“Yes, M’dame? You need something?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, it doesn’t suit you.” Her words were stern, but her face was pinched with worry. “Trust me, I would have much preferred to leave this kind of chat to Mirabelle, but she seems to be the only one who hasn’t figured out your feelings. Well, aside from Siffrin himself.”
Isabeau stiffened.
Oh, he’d been fairly sure she’d known, M’dame was too sharp to have not picked up on something, but he hadn’t expected- it was just a dumb crush, it wasn’t supposed to get dragged into the open like this.
“M’dame,” he pleaded.
“I am honestly not trying to make you uncomfortable.” She crossed her arms, looking off to the side with a scowl. “You’ve been struggling these past few days, and I’m… concerned, about you.”
“I appreciate that, really,” Isabeau tried to smile, but couldn’t keep his shoulders shrinking in on themselves. “But I’m not the one we should be worried about. I wasn’t even injured! I’ll get over it, I promise.”
“Isabeau.” Odile said flatly. “I’m not trying to punish you. I’m trying to tell you that you don’t need to just get over it on your own. Your feelings aren’t a liability; you can rely on us to help you.”
“Well, yeah, but,” Isabeau tangled his fingers up in front of him, trying to keep them from shaking. “I mean, I’m just… Mira’s got a lot going on, you know? And Bonbon, and Sif… I wasn’t even injured,” he repeats. “I don’t want to bother anyone.”
“It would be better if you did,” Odile sighed, seeming to come to a decision. “Isabeau, you are – and know that I am saying this under extreme duress and you should not expect this treatment going forward – our group’s… ‘rock’.”
For a moment, Isabeau could only blink, stunned. There was no way… but she’d even lifted her hands to do finger quotes, even if it was with a pained grimace on her face…
“HAH!” He barked, immediately clapping a hand over his mouth as if to hide it. “M’dame, did you just make a pun for me?”
Odile rolled her eyes, but she also nodded, and Isabeau was laughing so hard that before he knew it, he was crying. Big, ugly tears trailed down his cheeks, the first time he’d let anyone else see them since that first nightmarish day when Sif had gotten their injury.
“I really messed up, didn’t I?”
“No more than the rest of us,” Odile replied. “We rely on you to be the steady one, to hold everyone together emotionally. Sometimes too much, I think. When you’re thrown off, everyone else is on edge. Since it’s about Siffrin, it’s hitting you differently than it would have otherwise – don’t even try to deny it.”
Isabeau closed his mouth with a sheepish look.
“You’re hovering and he doesn’t understand why, and they’re going to get overwhelmed. This may be your way of trying to cope, but I don’t think it’s helping you or Siffrin right now.”
Iseabeau winced. “I know, I know, I’m sorry, I-”
“I’m not asking you to apologize,” she interrupted sharply, then almost immediately softened. “There’s nothing wrong with caring about them. But if you aren’t going to tell them about that…?”
She trailed off meaningfully, but Isabeau was already shaking his head.
“I can’t, I- Not yet. There’s so much riding on us, I can’t throw everything out of balance now.” Isabeau buried his face in his hands. “I was gonna wait until after we beat the king.”
M’dame made a considering noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “Alright then, I won’t try to convince you otherwise, but something does have to change now. I’m fairly certain that if you keep this behavior up Siffrin will snap within a week.”
“I know, I just- every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing… and I just want to make sure he’s okay, but I know they don’t like to be touched so I don’t want to crowd them but I still have to do something…”
Isabeau trailed off, absently wringing his hands again for lack of anything better to do with them. After a long pause, in which Odile’s face grew more and more thoughtful, she took a tentative step toward him.
“Isabeau, I am only going to offer this once, so take it or leave it,” Odile pursed her lips, sighed, and then – bafflingly – opened her arms. “Would you like a hug?”
Isabeau gaped. “M’dame, are you-”
She held up a finger to cut him off. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. But I did mean it when I said this is a one-time offer, so decide quickly.”
She was not quite meeting his gaze, looking a bit awkward but mostly determined, arms still out. Isabeau couldn’t help but smile. She’d never reminded him of his mother, and no one would ever accuse her of taking on that role in the group, but he realized, then, that at some point in their journey she had become family to him. They all had.
He stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. She patted him stiffly on the back in return. Objectively, it was a pretty bad hug, but he found himself relaxing anyway, the panic that had been coiling in his stomach for days finally loosening. Instead, it was replaced by a rising warmth. Talking about feelings was nowhere near Odile’s area of expertise, but there she was, putting herself outside of her comfort zone because he was hurting and she wanted to help. He sent a silent thanks up to the change god that, even amidst all of this fear and uncertainty, he had found these people.
After another few seconds, he released her and stepped back, scrubbing at his eyes and snotty nose. Once he was mostly presentable, he squared his shoulders and grinned at Odile, for real this time.
“Thank you. I needed that.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was a small, fond smile on her face.
“Don’t mention it, Isabeau.” She paused, thinking that over. “Actually, I mean that. Let’s never speak of this again.”
Isabeau laughed as they fell into step, finally heading on towards town.
“My lips are sealed.”
5
It’s funny, how, after so long of holding these feelings in, once he started the words just fell out of him.
The last two days had been so long, and so crazy, and if he was understanding everything correctly then Sif had experienced the same thing multiplied by about five million. They’d been injured, beaten down, killed, over and over and over again. And even after all that, he still had the bravery to reach out and take Isabeau’s hand.
Sif had been brave for so long. Now, it was Isabeau’s turn.
+1
A leaf landed gently on the open pages of Isabeau’s book. After blowing gently to remove it, he shrugged and let book fall closed rather than trying to pick up where he left off. It had been starting to strain his arm, holding it up to eye level one-handed like that, and, well he would rather never get the chance to finish the book at all than move his other arm right now.
Sif had been so much more open to touch in the months since they’d left Dormont, even accounting for the added skittishness and bad mental health days from his time in the loops. The contact actually seemed to help, grounding Sif when it seemed like he might be drifting into bad memories or a poor coping mechanism. And Sif bloomed with it, leaning into hugs and gentle brushes like a flower to sunshine, in a way that never failed to send warmth through Isabeau’s chest.
And with familiarity grew confidence, Sif surer and surer of their welcome, which brought them to a couple hours previously when Isabeau had propped himself up against this tree and Sif had barely stopped to confirm whether he was okay to join (always) before he was climbing into Isabeau’s lap. Isabeau was not proud of the sound he made at that, except for how it made Sif laugh as they settled down in the dip made by Isabeau’s loosely crossed legs, tucking their own knees up and leaning against Isabeau’s chest. Okay, he was at least a little proud of it.
So Isabeau had wrapped a gentle arm around his waist, and Sif had pulled out a chunk of wood and a knife, and for a few hours he’d gotten lost in some theoretical math to the quiet mutters of Sif’s carving mantra.
Except… Isabeau frowned as he dropped his book gently into the grass at his knee; Sif wasn’t talking anymore. He also couldn’t hear the rasp of metal over wood; when had they stopped?
“Hey Sif, are you- oh.”
The knife was closed, the wood (now in the rough shape of a miniature Bonbon) barely hanging in a loose hand, and Sif was asleep. He’d tucked his head into the crook of Isabeau’s shoulder, snuggled into the arm that was still around him.
Oh.
Oh NO, too cute, too cute, Isabeau was going to literally, actually die.
Especially now that he knew what it felt like to kiss that nose, those cheeks, and even, once or twice, those lips.
He brought his free hand up to his mouth, cutting off the tea kettle whistle noise that wanted to escape him every time he remembered the moment that Sif had come up to him and asked if he still wanted to give romance a try. Isabeau can’t count how many times since then he’d felt like he could explode from happiness. He’d been essentially walking on clouds that first week, constantly zoning out and grinning to himself, to Sif’s shy pleasure and everyone else’s fond exasperation.
And now… well. Sif was only just beginning to realize just how flustered they could make him with a look, or a compliment, and was taking shameless advantage if today was any example. Isabeau was fairly certain that one day Sif was going to wink at him and he was just going to keel over and die.
He'd been trying not to move, but something must have tensed or shifted, as Sif began to stir in his arms. They squirmed a little, brow furrowing in slow sigh before their eye blinked open, muzzily meeting Isabeau’s gaze.
“Oh,” they said, half a word and half a yawn. “I fell asleep on you. Sorry.”
“Trust me, you don’t have to apologize,” Isabeau grinned, glad Bonnie wasn’t here to call him gross for the dopey smile on his face. (This had happened at least twice a week since he and Sif started dating.) “If anything, you might want to say ‘you’re welcome.’”
Sif laughed a little at that, poking him teasingly in the side and laughing again when it made him yelp. After a moment, they said, “Still, I should probably get up, you must be getting sore.”
Despite the words, he didn’t move his head from Isabeau’s shoulder.
“Nope, this is exactly the kind of situation I cultivated these muscles for,” Isabeau tightened his grip. “There’s no room for aches in the face of cuddling. In fact, I think I live here now.”
“Really?” Sif raised an eyebrow. “Under this tree?”
“Mmhmm,” Isabeau smiled. “Under this tree with you.”
“Isaaaaaaa!” Sif complained, burying their face in his neck again. After a moment, they mumbled, “not fair.”
“Sorry, sorry!” Isabeau brought his other arm up so he was hugging them properly now, not sorry at all about this outcome. Sif seemed to recognize this, because they made a small raspberry noise and poked him again, though not very hard. Isabeau, who knew by now that this was just how Sif flirted (Flirted!! With Isabeau!!!), just wiggled into a comfier position against the tree and tucked his face into Sif’s hair.
“Love you, Sif,” he whispered.
Sif shivered, and Isabeau could feel how they smiled into the curve of his neck. After a moment, they whispered back, “You too, Isa.”
Maybe, one day, these feelings would settle down and stop being so overwhelming.
Privately, Isabeau wished that they never would.