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Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

Ooooo...a flashback chapter 👀. Enjoy! This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3.

~ ace-maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

They had a penchant for this sort of banter, teetering on a will-they, won't-they, flirtatious but at the same time bitchy exchange about them. Their repartee was as familiar as it was exhausting, a well-worn dance of barbs that allowed them to blow off steam while maintaining the facade of decorum befitting their status. Fuegoleon's chuckle was low and brief, but it held a note of genuine amusement. "Your sharp tongue does little to mask the fact that you look like death warmed over, Nozel."

Their relationship was one of ambiguous romance where neither pushed for labels and 'I love yous' were never exchanged instead settling for the obscurity of blurred lines. They enjoyed late-night rendezvous and quiet company without the strings of definition, prying society, and the freedom of other partners.

Fuegoleon and Nozel have been in an ambiguous relationship for fifteen years. When Fuegoleon is incapcitated for six months after the assault on the Royal Capital by the Eye of the Midnight Sun and Nozel refuses to visit him, he recieves three chance encounters to convince him otherwise.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 8: Gilded Expectations

Nozel was newly fifteen, and unlike commoners, did not have to wait until March of the following Spring to receive his grimoire. Nobleman and royals were treated to a private ceremony in the Royal Capital Grimoire Tower, where the most coveted grimoires were stored under lock and key, exclusive to the noble class. Noble families typically shared their ceremony with three to five children coming-of-age, but not the Three Great Royal Families. Their grimoire ceremonies were far more prestigious and grandiose; the Wizard King, Clover's King, and every uppercrust noble family in the kingdom were in attendance.

It was a rare treat for the nobility to witness two ceremonies in less than a year, Fuegoleon's preceding Nozel's by four months and Mereoleona's preceding Fuegoleon's by two years to the date. Before Mereoleona's grimoire ceremony, there had been a dry spell of nearly twenty years without a royal grimoire ceremony — the last to occur of the previous generation's, Acier Silva. The rarity of such events added an air of gravity to each one, only second to royal weddings, and by the time Nozel's turn arrived, the anticipation was palpable.

Fuegoleon remembered watching from the grand seating reserved for the Vermillion family, his own grimoire ceremony still fresh in his mind. He had been seated beside Mereoleona, who had been unusually quiet for once, her sharp eyes fixed on the Silva heir as he approached the raised dais.

Nozel had looked immaculate, of course—his silver hair gleaming in the candlelight of the ceremonial chamber, his tailored robes a perfect blend of regal elegance and understated power. Fuegoleon had been struck by how composed he appeared, his posture a portrait of nobility and pride.

But what captivated Fuegoleon most wasn't Nozel's appearance—it was the moment his hand touched the grimoire. The book had been stunning, bound in silvery-blue leather with intricate, glowing glyphs etched across its surface. The instant it connected with Nozel, the room seemed to shift, the very air charged with his magic. It was freezing and biting, yet impossibly graceful, like the first snowfall of winter—a paradox of beauty and brutality.

Nozel recalled it quite differently, though. Fifteen. Still freshly stricken with the grief of his mother's loss from just a few months prior. His golden collar was too tight, a numbness extending down to the pads of his thumbs. Perhaps it was due to the servants failing to heed his requests to loosen it or the anticipation leading up to the ceremony itself. His pupils vibrated with brevity, nerves screeching at the dozens of eyes trained on his person. His throat was hoarse as he ascended the dais, smacking his lips together to wet his dry mouth.

Every step felt heavier than the last, as if he was sinking into quicksand. The floor beneath him was cold, his polished boots clicking against the stone with a sharp, unsettling echo. The ornate ceremonial chamber, filled with noble families and their scrutinizing gazes, seemed to shrink around him, making the air thick and oppressive.

As he settled at the dais, Nozel's breath hitched in his chest, tightening with the pressure. His heart beat faster, the rhythm pulsing in his ears, drowning out the low murmur of the gathered crowd. He could feel their eyes like firebrands against his skin, each glance searing into him, dissecting every inch of him, the sensation made his skin crawl.

He had known his grimoire would be extraordinary; it was a matter of family pride. The Silva lineage boasted an unbroken record of receiving grimoires imbued with powerful elemental magic. Still, there was no small amount of pressure to live up to those expectations, especially with Acier Silva's shadow looming large over the occasion. She had been a prodigy, a force of nature whose accomplishments were whispered like legends among the nobility.

His grimoire had rattled down from the uppermost shelves, soaring down to slam itself onto the lectern leaving lesser grimoires littered in its wake. When his fingers brushed the silvery-blue leather of the grimoire the world narrowed to just him and the book. The glyphs blazed brighter, a cold wind whipping through the chamber despite the lack of open windows. He could feel the magic resonate with his very soul, a perfect match that sent shivers up his spine. The room had gasped as the frost spread across the marble dais in delicate, crystalline patterns, and Nozel had fought the urge to flinch under the awestruck gazes of the crowd. They were spellbound. Nozel had looked untouchable, like a king stepping into his rightful place.

Of course, Nozel hadn't felt any of that. He had been too preoccupied with the weight of the grimoire in his hands, the chill of its magic biting into his palms as though testing his resolve. He remembered glancing at his family—his father, stern and expectant; his younger siblings, wide-eyed with awe—and feeling an odd mix of pride and suffocating responsibility.

After the ceremony, as the nobles crowded around to offer their congratulations, Nozel had felt like an artifact on display rather than a person. Everyone seemed eager to laud his grimoire's power, to compare him to Acier, to speculate on the heights he would reach. The praise had been relentless, overbearing, and it was only later, in the solitude of his chambers, that he allowed himself to exhale.

Fuegoleon had found him later, steeled away from the noble horde on the balcony off the ballroom where his grimoire reception was being hosted at the Silva Estate. Nozel was crumpled against the rear wall in an upright fetal position, his cape wet from soaking up the rainwater in a nearby puddle. He cradled his grimoire close to his chest, fingers carding through the pages in chunks.

He didn't register Fuegoleon's presence till a footfall in the same puddle that had muddled the stark whiteness of his cape to a dull gray. Nozel's head snapped up, his sharp eyes locking onto Fuegoleon with an intensity that could have burned rain from the sky. His posture didn't shift, still curled inward trying to make himself as small as possible, but his gaze was anything but diminutive.

Fuegoleon paused, his heart catching in his chest at the sight of Nozel, despondent and listless in a way he'd never seen before. The storm outside had nothing on the turbulence inside Nozel's expression — layers of resentment and confusion churning in his gut.

"Don't look at me like that," Nozel grouched, attempting a scathing edge but failing miserably as a tremor seeped into his voice.

Fuegoleon stepped forward, closer than he would usually dare, his boots leaving soft impressions in the water. He clutched the gift stowed behind his back tighter. He crouched down, his vermilion mane dripping like candle wax in the cool night air, but his focus was entirely on Nozel. His breath was steady, though his pulse quickened as he watched Nozel's fingers trembling over the edges of his grimoire, almost as if trying to anchor himself to something in the physical world.

"I'm not looking at you like anything, Nozel," Fuegoleon said softly, his tone laced with a sincerity that didn't match the playful edge he usually carried. "I'm just here."

Fuegoleon settled a foot away from the Silva, maneuvering Nozel's gift beneath his cape as he folded his knees in to mirror Nozel's position. Nozel flinched, a sharp inhale that betrayed more than he intended. His fingers paused on a page of his grimoire, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't seem to make himself. The weight of it all—the ceremony, his mother's recent passing, the stares from the noble families—had crushed him in a way that no one but Fuegoleon seemed to notice.

"You know I don't do well with all of this," Nozel admitted, his voice rough and wracked with fatigue. He glanced at Fuegoleon, the corners of his mouth pulling into a strained smile. "You shouldn't be here. Not now." He resigned himself to studying the curvature of his fingernails, neatly manicured for today's occasion. He silently prayed Fuegoleon would fuck off and leave him alone but another part of him pleaded a resounding 'no'.

"You should be off wooing the soon-to-be eligible misses of Clover, dancing and preparing for the social season. Go scout out a good wife for your future, Lord Vermillion. You'll be debuting this season." A pang of bitterness pierced his soul as the words escaped Nozel's lips. Imagining Fuegoleon waltzing and conversing with the many faceless daughters of the Clover nobility eventually wedding and begetting children with a noblewoman left a foul taste in his mouth. His eyes watered at the intrusive thought, dropping his grimoire in his lap as he buried his head into his arms.

But Fuegoleon didn't move. Instead, he scooted closer, his hand reaching out just enough to brush against Nozel's, not forceful, but gentle, trying to reassure the younger Silva that, for once, he didn't have to hide from everything. "The young noble ladies of Clover can wait," Fuegoleon insisted. "I'm more concerned about why my childhood friend—the gentleman of the hour," he emphasized with a shoulder nudge, "isn't in there enjoying his grimoire reception."

Nozel could feel the pair of expectant violet eyes boring into the side of his head as he mulled over whether he should be offended or grateful that the Vermillion had referred to him as his 'childhood friend'. It certainly had a fervid sting to it, given the newfound revelation that he might be exclusively attracted to boys—specifically this boy. He was so repulsed by the pictures of bare breasts in the anatomy books in the Silva library, yet so enthralled by the kiss they had shared just a few months ago.

When Nozel finally honored Fuegoleon's snooping gaze with his own, the Vermillion was closer than before, nearly nose to nose. A deafening too close rang in his ears as he retreated back a bit, swearing he saw a flash of disappointment cross Fuegoleon's face but chalking it up to wishful thinking.

"You know, I had no input into how today would go — the ceremony, the reception. I was just stuffed into this fugly get-up," Nozel tugged roughly at the golden collar, hearing the satisfying pop of a few stitches as it loosened, something he was sure his courtiers would scold him for later, "shoved into the grimoire tower then dragged here on one of the shittiest days in January," he huffed, gesturing to the dreary night sky still drizzling rain.

Fuegoleon admired Nozel's pissy expression for a moment before responding. "Such creative language for the first son of the esteemed Silva family. I'm sure Lord Aberforth would be beaming with pride," Fuegoleon snickered playfully, receiving a charged smack upside the head from Nozel.

"I jest, I jest," Fuegoleon repeated, raising his hands in surrender, half-sheilding the back of his head.

"Geezus~" Nozel drawled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least you had a meal at your reception," he remarked, dramatically rolling his head. "I swear the Vermillions look like gluttons with the bland morsel horseshit the Silva catering staff arranged. And you cannot argue that your ceremony robes were more uncomfortable than mine. Nothing can beat be laced, sewn, and plucked into a suit..."

Fuegoleon listened intently as the Silva vented, punctuating his tirade with firm nods and keen one- to two-word answers, allowing him to ramble on without interruption.

Fuegoleon waited for the torrent of complaints to lose its momentum, leaning back on his palms and letting Nozel's voice fill the cool, rain-slicked air. There was something oddly grounding about it—listening to Nozel unburden himself, even in his typically sharp and dramatic fashion.

"You done?" Fuegoleon asked with a faint smile when Nozel paused to catch his breath.

Nozel huffed, tilting his head back to glare at the overcast sky. "Not even close," he muttered, though the bitting edge of his frustration was already beginning to dull. His hands smoothed down the front of his damp suit reflexively, and he finally turned to Fuegoleon, his tone softer. "Why are you even out here? Shouldn't you be basking in the glory of being a prodigy or whatever nonsense they're feeding you these days?"

Fuegoleon shook his head, droplets of rain flicking from his hair. "Because I wanna be," he said simply, his gaze steady.

Nozel frowned, clearly thrown by the unexpected admission. "Seriously?"

Fuegoleon didn't elaborate, letting the sincerity of his words hang in the air. The quiet confidence in his tone, paired with the unwavering determination in his eyes, made it hard for Nozel to offer a cutting retort.

Nozel snorted at that, the sound sharp and uncharacteristically loud. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?" he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest hint of a smile.

"It's a talent," Fuegoleon replied breezily. He reached into the folds of his cape, retrieving a small, neatly wrapped package. Without a word, he held it out to Nozel.

Nozel's fingers stilled over the frayed edge of his collar, his jaw tightening. "What is that?"

"A little something I thought might make today slightly less unbearable," Fuegoleon replied.

Nozel hesitated before reaching out, his fingers brushing against Fuegoleon's as he accepted the package. The touch was fleeting, but it lingered in a way that made his stomach twist. He pulled back quickly, focusing instead on unwrapping the gift.

Inside was a four-inch brass sextant. For a moment, he couldn't speak, the words lodged somewhere between his chest and his throat. Nozel turned the small brass instrument over in his hands, the polished metal catching the faint light filtering through the overcast sky. He recognized it immediately—a navigational tool, one typically used by sailors to chart their position based on the stars. It was an unusual, thoughtful gift, far removed from the perfunctory offerings he'd received throughout the day.

"A sextant," he said softly, his voice tinged with something uncharacteristically close to delight. He glanced at Fuegoleon, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You—how did you know I've wanted one of these?"

Fuegoleon leaned back on his palms, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You mentioned it once, years ago. Something about wanting to learn celestial navigation because it's more precise than relying on mana alone. Thought it might be... useful."

Nozel's fingers traced the edge of the instrument with an almost reverent touch, the solid weight of it grounding him. "Useful?" he repeated, smirking faintly. "This is more than useful, Fuegoleon. It's—" He cut himself off, swallowing the overly sentimental words that threatened to spill out.

"Perfect?" Fuegoleon teased, raising an eyebrow.

Nozel huffed but didn't deny it. Instead, he inspected the sextant again, the polished brass glinting even in the dim light. "I didn't think you actually listened to half the things I said back then."

"Shows what you know," Fuegoleon replied lightly. His voice softened, sincerity replacing his playful tone. "I thought you could use something that's just yours—something to remind you that you're allowed to want things, too."

Before Nozel could second-guess himself, before the ever-present voice of doubt could rear its ugly head, he leaned forward. The movement was deliberate, but the kiss was sudden—an impulsive act that came from somewhere deeper than thought.

Fuegoleon froze for a fraction of a second, his breath catching in surprise. But as Nozel's lips pressed softly against his, warm and tentative, he found himself responding instinctively. His hand came up to steady Nozel, brushing against the curve of his jaw as he leaned into the kiss, matching Nozel's hesitance with a gentle certainty.

The rain pattered against the balcony floor, unnoticed, as the world around them dissolved into a blur. It was their second kiss—technically the sixth or seventh; Nozel had failed to keep count.

Fuegoleon pulled back first, his forehead resting lightly against Nozel's, their breath mingling in the cool night air. For a moment, neither spoke. The storm outside continued its relentless rhythm, but here, in the shelter of the balcony, everything seemed still.

"You're full of surprises," Fuegoleon murmured, his voice low, carrying a warmth that seeped into Nozel's chest.

Nozel didn't move away, his hands still clutching the sextant. His face burned with an emotion he couldn't quite name, somewhere between relief and terror. "Don't make this a thing," he mumbled, his words a rushed exhale.

Fuegoleon chuckled softly, his fingers ghosting over Nozel's shoulder before pulling back to give him space. "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, though the twinkle in his violet eyes suggested otherwise. He leaned back against the wall, his posture loose and unbothered, as if sharing a stolen kiss in the middle of a rainstorm was the most natural thing in the world.

However, it did become a thing, and not just between them.

The next morning, whispers swept through the Silva Estate like wildfire. Servants spoke in hushed tones about seeing Fuegoleon leave the balcony well past midnight, his normally pristine attire damp and muddied. Nozel, too, had been noted returning to his chambers much later than expected, his ceremonial robes inexplicably soaked and his expression unreadable.

Neither of them confirmed or denied the rumors that began to circulate among the noble circles, but their interactions in public subtly shifted. To the untrained eye, they were the same as always—formal, poised, and steeped in the decorum expected of their stations. Yet, there were new, almost imperceptible changes: the way Fuegoleon's gaze lingered a fraction longer on Nozel, or the softening of Nozel's tone when addressing Fuegoleon.

It took two weeks for Fuegoleon to muster up enough courage to approach Mereoleona. With the rumors swirling and the ever-increasing exchange of words between him and Nozel, he figured he could use a... queer perspective to bring some clarity to the butterflies churning in his gut for a certain silvered royal.

Mereoleona had come out to her parents the morning after her grimoire ceremony at the breakfast table. They were unphased and seemed more dissatisfied when she informed them she would not take up the mantle as the next head of House Vermillion.

Mereoleona, as unapologetically brash as she was, had a reputation for seeing through bullshit—hers, others', and especially her brother's. If anyone in the family would take his fumbling emotions seriously without mocking him into oblivion, it would be her. Probably.

He found her exactly where he expected: at the Vermillion training grounds, obliterating a practice target with a series of precision fire spells. Fuegoleon stepped forward cautiously, the sound of his boots crunching against scorched gravel catching her attention. The scorched remains of the unfortunate dummy smoldered as she turned to acknowledge him, one eyebrow raised in a question she didn't bother voicing.

"Well?" she drawled. "You've been skulking around like a nervous rabbit. Either say something or get back to sulking in the corner."

Fuegoleon straightened his posture instinctively, falling back on discipline to mask his unease. "Mereo," he began, his voice firmer than he felt, "I need to talk to you."

"Congratulations," she said, her smirk growing. "You've managed three words. Let's aim for a full sentence, shall we?" She leaned casually against the remains of a scorched post. "What's eating at you this time?"

He exhaled slowly, his hands clasped tightly behind his back in a practiced stance. "It's... personal."

The smirk faltered slightly, and for a brief moment, the sharpness in her gaze softened. "Alright," she said, her tone shifting to something less teasing, more attuned. "Personal, I can work with. But I'm not dragging it out of you, Fuegoleon. You know better."

Fuegoleon's hands drifted to his cape, fidgeting with the clasp as he avoided her gaze. "Is it... is it normal to feel attracted to both men and women?" His voice was so low it was nearly swallowed by the breeze.

Mereoleona froze for a fraction of a second, her expression flickering with surprise before settling into thoughtful neutrality. She pushed off the post, closing the distance between them with measured steps. "Of course, it's normal," she said, her voice firm, as though daring anyone to suggest otherwise. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know," Fuegoleon admitted, his hands tightening on the fabric of his cape. "I've always thought I knew exactly who I was, what I wanted. But lately... it's different. I'm different."

Her expression softened further—a rare and disarming sight. "Different doesn't mean bad, Fuego," she said, her tone low and steady. "It means you're figuring yourself out. And there's nothing wrong with that."

He hesitated, his throat dry, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. "Is there... a term for it? For being attracted to both?"

"There is," she said, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. "Bisexual. That's what it's called. And it's just as valid as anything else. You're still you, no matter what you call it."

The word felt foreign and oddly grounding as he repeated it softly to himself. "Bisexual."

"Yep," Mereoleona said, clapping him lightly on the shoulder with enough force to make him shift on his feet. "You're still my pain-in-the-ass little brother, whether you like men, women, or both. Doesn't change a thing."

Fuegoleon allowed himself a faint, almost shy smile. "Thank you, Mereo. That... means a lot."

Mereoleona studied him for a long moment, searching his expression. Then, she clicked her tongue. "Tch. You sound just like Father." There was no real venom in her words, but there was something else—something knowing. "You're really ready to throw yourself into all that nonsense? The politics, the scrutiny, the expectations?"

Fuegoleon straightened his shoulders, the weight of his decision settling over him like a familiar mantle. "I've always known this would be my duty," he said, his voice steady, though not entirely without hesitation. "It's the responsibility I was born into."

Mereoleona snorted, folding her arms. "Born into? Maybe. But no one's got a knife to your throat forcing you to accept it. You could do what I did—walk away. Hell, you're strong enough to carve out your own damn path."

He let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "I don't want to walk away. Not like you did."

Her expression darkened briefly, but she didn't interrupt.

"It's not just about duty," he continued. "It's about stability. House Vermillion has thrived because we uphold our responsibilities. I want to ensure that continues, not just for our name, but for the people who rely on us."

Mereoleona clicked her teeth in irritation, then rolled her shoulders, looking him over like she was reassessing him. Finally, she exhaled, almost begrudgingly. "Hah. Guess you really are cut out for it."

Fuegoleon dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I know what I have to do."

"Right." Mereoleona eyed him again, something sharp lurking beneath her casual stance. "Then you also know what comes next."

Fuegoleon frowned. "Next?"

She smirked. "Marriage."

He stiffened. "That's—"

"That's exactly what the noble houses will start circling like vultures, waiting for you to announce who you'll court," she cut in. "You think they weren't already tossing around ideas? Now that you've basically announced you're taking the helm, it won't be long before every noble family starts throwing their most 'eligible' options at you." She rolled her eyes. "Bet they're already planning how to get you in a room with some delicate little noblewoman so you can 'form a connection.' Of course, they have to wait till your 'of age', 'of age'."

There was of "grimoire-receiving" age — 15. And then, there was of "matrimony" age — 18. Noble houses could swear and betroth their blossoming youth upon grimoire-receiving age, but could not wed their pitiful offspring till they were barely legal. Fuegoleon had been grateful the marriage age had been raised by parliament, but two generations beforehand. Three years and he'd be subject to their matchmaking woes.

Fuegoleon grimaced. He had considered this, of course, but hearing it spoken aloud made the situation feel even more suffocating. "I have no interest in being a pawn in their matchmaking games."

"Then you'd better start making that clear." Mereoleona smirked, tilting her head at him. "Or, better yet, you could beat them to it."

Fuegoleon hesitated. "What do you mean?"

She grinned. "If you don't want them setting you up with someone, the best way to stop them is to pick someone yourself."

His stomach turned uneasily at the thought. "It's not that simple."

"It is," she countered. "You pick someone. You show them you've already got your sights set elsewhere, and they'll back off. Or at least, most of them will."

Fuegoleon was silent for a moment, lips pressed into a firm line.

Mereoleona's grin slowly faded as realization dawned. She leaned in slightly, eyes gleaming with something dangerously amused. "Wait a minute."

Fuegoleon looked away, jaw tightening.

"Oh-ho," she chuckled. "So there is someone."

"There's... someone," Fuegoleon admitted, his voice faltering as a faint blush crept up his neck.

Mereoleona stilled, then grinned like a lion spotting its prey. "Someone," she echoed, dragging out the word with obvious delight. "Well, that explains the brooding. Who is it? Some noble girl with stars in her eyes? Or maybe—" Her grin widened. "—a charming commoner with a rebellious streak? You always were the responsible type. Maybe you're drawn to a little chaos."

Fuegoleon exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny. "It's... complicated."

Mereoleona scoffed, folding her arms. "Everything with you is complicated," she said, tone light but insistent. "Just say it already before I start taking bets."

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Her eyes gleamed. "Wait—" she leaned in slightly, scrutinizing his expression. "It's not a girl, is it?"

Fuegoleon stiffened, and that was all the confirmation she needed.

Mereoleona let out a slow whistle, then slung an arm around his shoulders, squeezing just enough to make him squirm. "Hah! I knew something was up! My dear, serious little brother, caught up in forbidden romance—oh, this is fantastic."

"It's not forbidden!" Fuegoleon hissed, trying to shrug her off, but she only tightened her grip, ruffling his already neat hair.

"I'm joking, you idiot," she said, grinning. "Who is it? Someone I know?"

Fuegoleon exhaled, shoulders slumping. "...It's Nozel." The name slipped out like a confession he had been holding in for years.

Mereoleona froze. Then, suddenly, she threw her head back and roared with laughter.

"Nozel Silva?!" she wheezed, clutching her stomach. "Oh, that is rich. The stiffest, most uptight noble in the entire kingdom?!" She clapped him on the back so hard he nearly stumbled. "Damn, Fuegoleon, I knew you liked a challenge, but this—" She wiped at her eyes, still grinning. "This is a new level of self-inflicted suffering."

Fuegoleon flushed redder than his own mana, bracing himself for more teasing. "You don't think it's... strange?" he asked, quieter now. There was something hesitant, vulnerable in his voice.

Mereoleona sobered, tilting her head as she looked at him. Then she shrugged. "Strange? No. Surprising?" Her grin returned, all sharp teeth and mischief. "Absolutely. But honestly? You two make sense in a weird, stiff-as-hell kind of way."

"It's not like that," Fuegoleon insisted, though his voice lacked conviction. "At least... I didn't think it was."

"And now?" she pressed, tone still teasing, but not unkind.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "And now, I can't stop thinking about him. About the way he carries himself, the way he speaks... even the way he looks at me when he thinks no one's watching."

Mereoleona studied him for a moment, then let out an exaggerated groan. "Ugh. You so have it bad."

Fuegoleon winced. "I don't know what to do, Mereo. This isn't just about me. There are expectations, responsibilities—"

"Blah, blah, noble house nonsense," she cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "Listen, Fuegoleon, you're smart—most of the time—but you're also a massive overthinker. If you like him, figure it out. Don't let some crusty old nobles or tradition hold you back. You're Fuegoleon Vermillion. Act like it."

He looked at her, her fiery confidence unwavering, and felt the flicker of resolve spark in his chest.

"You make it sound so simple," he muttered.

"It is simple," she said. "The only thing making it complicated is you." She leaned in, smirking. "So, are you gonna stand here overanalyzing it for the next decade, or are you gonna do something about it?"

Fuegoleon let out a slow breath before finally nodding. "You're right. I need to talk to him."

"Good," she said, ruffling his hair one last time for good measure before stepping back. "And if he's half as sharp as he thinks he is, he'll be waiting for you to make the first move."

Fuegoleon rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Mereo."

"Don't thank me," she said, already turning back to the charred training grounds. "Just don't mess it up. And if he gives you grief, remind him that I'll be watching."

Fuegoleon sighed. "That's not reassuring."

Mereoleona just grinned. "It's not supposed to be."

#fuegoleon x nozel #black clover #fuegoleon vermillion #nozel silva #nozel x fuegoleon #mereoleona vermillion #anime #bc #nozelxfuegoleon #fuegoleonxnozel

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ace-maverick · 1 month ago

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Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

Ooooo…a chapter update 👀. This one is a shorty but a goody. Enjoy! This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3.

~ ace-maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 7: The Funeral He Never Attended

He folded his hands neatly, squeezing them tightly as he recalled the memory of his mother's open casket: how the Silva Estate had expected him to watch as his mother was paraded throughout the Royal Capital for nobles and onlookers alike to gawk at, and how he was expected to be complicit.

"Yeah," Fuegoleon responded, searching Nozel's lavender eyes, now mournful and glossy.

Instead, Nozel confined himself to his bedroom as the House staff desperately pleaded with their young master to attend his mother's funeral procession. But Nozel adamantly refused, screeching and blubbering like a petulant child as he tore apart his bedroom, slamming his head against his bedroom door, sweeping the books off his desk, and ripping the sheets from his bed.

After a half-hour of carrying on, his father intervened. Usually so distant, indifferent, and stringent, Nozel expected another round of discipline. But the ever-so-esteemed and apathetic Aberforth Silva knelt before his son, a sniveling, grieving mess of a fourteen-year-old, swiping embarrassedly at his tear-streaked face with the backs of his sleeves, scooped him up and deposited him on his bed. He rifled through Nozel's strewn bedding, pulling out his baby blanket and draping it over his son. He couldn't recall what his father whispered to him but he was spared his mother's funeral procession. His father instructed the House staff to leave him be and Nozel managed to cry himself to sleep.

"Do you remember how you comforted me that night?"

"Yeah," Fuegoleon whispered, cringing at the memory.

Nozel was startled awake by the clinking of fountain pens and the sight of a blurry redhead scrubbing at an ink stain on his carpet, presumably from the inkwell Nozel had swept from his desk along with his books, which were now neatly stacked in piles of three next to folded sheets. Nozel later learned Fuegoleon had managed to slip past both the guards and staff to visit him after Acier's funeral procession. The dimwit cleaned his damn room. He wanted to scream at the Vermillion to get out and hurl the nearest projectile at him, but all he could do was wail at the top of his lungs like a newborn babe. He buried his face in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms so far into his eyes that they became sore.

Fuegoleon stumbled as he climbed onto the bed, with Nozel kicking and squirming as he tried to evade the Vermillion. Fuegoleon eventually wrestled Nozel onto the bed, spooning him as the Silva became pliant, curling in on himself. He held Nozel for a long while, carding his fingers through Nozel's tousled hair, down to the base of his spine and back, again and again until the sobs subsided to sniffles and Nozel turned to face him.

His eyes were bleary, bloodshot, and puffy; his lips windburned and chapped; and his skin ruddy and splotchy. Nozel was a hot fucking mess, and Fuegoleon knew it was morally wrong, but he kissed him anyway. He stole Nozel's first kiss. It was nothing spectacular. Their lips met with a clumsy, almost painful force, a clash of teeth and a startled gasp from Nozel. Fuegoleon had misjudged the angle, his teeth catching Nozel's lower lip. A sharp sting shot through Nozel's mouth, and he pulled away, wincing.

If looks could kill, Nozel would have sliced him six ways to Sunday—his brow deeply furrowed, teeth bared, and nostrils flared. But then Nozel stole his second kiss, and his third, and his fourth, and his fifth. It was sloppy, fumbling, and uncoordinated—a tangle of limbs and misplaced tongues, like a classic teenage boy's first kiss—but Fuegoleon still savored every moment of it. That was the first of many well-spent nights at House Silva.

"I would've murdered you, ya know?" Nozel toyed with Fuegoleon's fringe.

"Yeah, would've gnawed straight to my skull," Fuegoleon chuckled softly, his voice a low rumble that carried an undercurrent of nostalgia. "I royally fucked that up. First kiss for the history books, right?" Nozel's thumb grazed his lips, drawing a line against his cupid's bow.

Nozel tsked. "I was furious. Thought you were mocking me at first—taking advantage of how pathetic I looked." His fingers tangled themselves in Fuegoleon's fringe absentmindedly, tugging lightly as he spoke. "But then... you didn't pull away. You stayed. And you didn't say anything stupid for once."

Fuegoleon arched an eyebrow, tongue darting out to lick the pad of Nozel's thumb. "That's your bar for forgiveness? Just me shutting up?"

"Yeah," Nozel affirmed, tilting Fuegoleon's head back as he planted a firm kiss on his lips.

"That's when I knew," Nozel murmured as he withdrew.

Nozel's bangs tickled Fuegoleon's nose. Fuegoleon scrunched his nose and huffed, earning a clicking tongue from Nozel. Nozel's smirk was faint, almost wistful, as he traced the curve of Fuegoleon's cheek with his thumb. Nozel kissed him again. "What about you?" Nozel whispered against his lips. "When did you fall?"

Fuegoleon peered up through heavy lashes, his gaze steady yet distant, as if searching for the right words in the air between them. His lips parted, but no sound came immediately. Instead, he shifted slightly, his hand finding its way to Nozel's wrist, fingers curling gently around it.

"It wasn't a moment," Fuegoleon admitted at last, his voice low but warm, like embers glowing in the dark. "Not a single one, at least. It was... gradual. Quiet. Like a fire catching on wet wood—slow, stubborn, but impossible to put out once it started."

Nozel's eyes softened, though his smirk lingered. "Poetic."

Fuegoleon snorted, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "It's the truth. You annoyed me, frustrated me to no end. But then you'd do something—something stupid like steal a kiss—or something kind, like..." He hesitated, his grip on Nozel's wrist tightening briefly. "Like being there when I thought no one else would be."

"Like dragging you out of the mud when you were too proud to ask for help," Nozel teased, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

Fuegoleon gave a short laugh. "Exactly. Or when you sat with me after my injuries, pretending you didn't care but refusing to leave until I fell asleep."

Nozel scoffed, though his thumb resumed tracing slow, deliberate patterns against Fuegoleon's cheek. "You're over-romanticizing it. I was bored."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

Fuegoleon grinned, leaning up to steal a kiss of his own. It was softer this time, unrushed—a quiet exchange that carried none of the clumsiness of their first and all the weight of the years in between. When he pulled back, his voice dropped to a tender murmur. "But seriously, it was those little moments. The way you'd look at me, the way you'd listen to me, the way you'd care for me... it all added up...like kindling to a fire."

Nozel hummed, neither confirming nor denying the sentiment, but his hand moved to brush away a strand of fiery hair sticking to Fuegoleon's temple. "You're lucky I didn't smother that fire," he said dryly, though the edge in his voice was dulled by the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"But, if I had to choose a specific moment." Fuegoleon walked his fingers up Nozel's chest. "Do you remember when we were teenagers and Mereo made her yearly visit from the Grand Magic Zone?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific."

"Sixteen. Seventeen." Fuegoleon clarified, pointing at Nozel for the former and himself for the latter.

Nozel's face scrunched in annoyance, swatting at Fuegoleon's hand. "You cannot be fucking serious?!" he spat between bared teeth.

"What?!" Fuegoleon raised his hands in defense.

"You're saying you fell in love with me when we fucking escaped into the woods from your demon bitch of a sister —?!"

"She's not a bitch—"

"Demon bitch!" Nozel seethed emphatically flaring like a frilled lizard, digging his index finger into Fuegoleon's sternum. Normally Nozel was not this hostile about Mereoleona, but this response was warranted. He harbored a mild distaste for the woman but after the brutal sparring session she had subjected them to that day, his animus was wholly justified.

"And then we made out fucking nude in a lake where you got your first handjob," Nozel hissed continuing on his earlier sentence. "And don't act like it wasn't your first fucking handjob. Because I was all your fucking firsts!" he raved with a too prideful laugh. "I swear," he muttered under his breath, rubbing at his temples as he pressed himself further into the mattress.

Fuegoleon blinked, momentarily stunned into silence by Nozel's tirade. Then, a slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. "Oh, so now you're keeping score?" he taunted, crowding Nozel's space as he corned him against the headboard. "What's next, Nozel? Are you going to start counting how many times I've edged you to an orgasm?" Nozel shuddered as Fuegoleon licked a teasing stripe from his collar bone to the base of his ear, instinctively grabbing at the Vermillion's shoulders.

Nozel's lavender eyes flashed, his cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "So pliant aren't we?" Fuegoleon whispered against Nozel's ear, low and velvety. But for Nozel, it was a wet slobbery tongue like a mutt greeting him on his rare state visits to the Forsaken Realm. Nozel hurled the Vermillion off him, flipping them over so Nozel was seated squarely on his hips.

Fuegoleon couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled up at Nozel's indignant response. "Alright, alright," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But don't pretend you weren't just as eager in that lake. You practically dragged me in by my cape."

Nozel's nostrils flared as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit the picture of a nobleman thoroughly offended. "I had to," he shot back. "You were whining about how cold the water was like some prissy little lordling."

Fuegoleon grinned, leaning in just enough to be within Nozel's space but not so close as to push his limits further. "And yet, you stayed. You didn't have to, but you did. And I seem to recall that handjob wasn't exactly one-sided." His voice dropped to a teasing lilt, his eyes alight with mischief.

Nozel sputtered, his composure slipping as his cheeks darkened even further. "Don't—don't act like that was some grand romantic gesture," he stammered, waving a hand as if to physically dismiss the thought. "I was doing you a favor. That's all."

Fuegoleon snorted, his grin widening as he leaned back against the headboard, utterly unbothered by Nozel's defensive posture. "Sure," he drawled, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "A favor. Just like all those other 'favors' you've done for me over the years."

Nozel glared, but the heat in his expression was losing its edge, softening into something more vulnerable. "You're impossible," he muttered, combing a hand through his disheveled bangs.

"And yet, here you are," Fuegoleon quipped, echoing his earlier words with a cheeky grin.

Nozel groaned, rolling off Fuegoleon and falling back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh. "I don't know why I put up with you," he grumbled, though the faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him.

Fuegoleon slid closer, pressing a kiss to Nozel's temple before murmuring against his skin, "Because you love me, even when I drive you crazy."

Nozel huffed, rolling his eyes but allowing the gesture. "Don't push it, Vermillion," he said, though his tone lacked bite.

Fuegoleon chuckled, settling beside him. "Never," he promised softly, his hand finding Nozel in the sheets and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Nozel sighed, his fingers briefly tightening around Fuegoleon's hand as he gazed up at the ceiling. "You're insufferable, you know that?" he muttered, though there was a hint of fondness in his voice.

Fuegoleon turned his head to watch Nozel, his fiery hair spilling onto the pillow like embers against snow. "I think the word you're looking for is 'irresistible,' but I'll take it," he replied smugly, his thumb brushing small circles over the back of Nozel's hand.

"But seriously, if I had to choose one moment, it'd be that. And not because of the handjob," he assured before Nozel could protest. "You looked like a fucking God in that lake. The way the afternoon sun hit you, with water dripping down your hair and your damn lavender eyes glaring at me like I was the bane of your existence. I couldn't stop staring. You were untouchable and yet right there in front of me. It was maddening."

Fuegoleon's gaze lingered on Nozel's profile, tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his cheeks. Nozel's eyes flicked to meet Fuegoleon's. There was no sharp retort this time, no sarcastic quip. Instead, he simply studied the man beside him, as if searching for something in his expression.

"It basically confirmed everything I was feeling after your grimoire ceremony."

#black clover #fuegoleon vermillion #nozel silva #anime #fuegoleon x nozel #nozel x fuegoleon #bc #papasilva

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ace-maverick · 2 months ago

Text

Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

Ooooo…a chapter update 👀. This one is a longer one and a bueat if I do say so myself. Enjoy! This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3.

~ ace-maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 6: One More Thing to Relearn

"¡Buena suerte, Fuego!(Good luck, Fuego!)" Leopold wished more kindly, saluting him as he followed Mereoleona out.

Once Mereoleona was out of Fuegoleon's view, she mouthed 'Don't fuck it up' to a frazzled Nozel before offering him a cheeky wink and shoving him into Fuegoleon's bed chamber, shutting the door behind him.

The door closed with an ominous thud, Nozel's heart racing a mile a minute, blood rushing to his ears as his face grew hot, flushing a dozen shades of pink and red. He briefly wished he'd flipped Mereoleona off before she left, wanting nothing more than to implode, but instead settling for a few, deliberate bonks of his head against the closed door. He had never been more grateful that his bangs covered his face as he bowed his head. A single bead of sweat trickled from his temple to his chin as fat tears began to well in his eyes, goosebumps prickling down to his fingertips.

"Nozel," Fuegoleon managed to choke out before being swiftly interrupted by Nozel with a curt 'I need a minute'.

Nozel slowly slid down the bedchamber door, resting his head between his knees to steady his thrumming heart and shallow breathing.

Fuegoleon watched him from his spot on the bed. Nozel was a heap of white, blue, and gold on the floor, minus his sandals. Fuegoleon listened as Nozel's breathing deepened, slowing until it became calm, even, and quiet. Once he had collected himself, Nozel stood rather awkwardly, marched over to Fuegoleon's desk, dragged his chair across the room, and placed it to the left of the bed. He plopped down in the seat, crossed his legs at the knee, folded his hands, and fixed his gaze on Fuegoleon.

Fuegoleon held Nozel's gaze, both men noticeably flushed, though Nozel was far redder. Nozel clasped his hands tighter in his lap, his fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic to anchor himself. The room felt warmer than it should, and Nozel found himself wanting to shed his feathered cape. His lips parted briefly as if he were about to speak, but he hesitated, the words slipping away before they could form.

After a beat of silence, Fuegoleon cleared his throat. "I...didn't expect this," he admitted, his voice softer than usual, afraid that speaking too loudly might shatter their fragile calm.

Nozel's eyes narrowed slightly, but not in his usual judgmental way. There was a vulnerability there, an openness that Fuegoleon rarely saw from him. "Neither did I," Nozel responded, his voice tight. His posture was rigid, but his hands—still folded neatly in his lap—betrayed his unease as his fingers fidgeted slightly.

"I don't know why Mereoleona thought this was a good idea," Nozel muttered, his gaze momentarily darting toward the door, as if the fiery woman might barge back in at any moment, ready to provoke him all over again.

Fuegoleon chuckled lightly, though there was no humor in it. "You know her. She loves to push people out of their comfort zones."

Nozel exhaled sharply, clearly not amused by that idea. "She doesn't know when to stop."

Fuegoleon tilted his head slightly, his expression softening. "But maybe she was right this time. You and I—we've never had a real conversation. About this. About us. Not like this." Fuegoleon gestured between them, punctuating each sentence with more than the last.

Nozel stiffened, but he did not immediately refute it. Instead, he let the silence settle over them once more, his mind racing as he weighed Fuegoleon's words.

"I don't..." Nozel paused, searching for the right words, something he wasn't accustomed to. His usual sharpness, the precision with which he chose his statements, was absent now. "I don't know how to do this. I'm not used to... being like this."

Another beat of silence passed. Both men retreated back into their space. Nozel's gaze dropped to his lap again, watching his fingers fidget with sporadic nervousness. Fuegoleon made the first move, scooting from the center of his bed toward the left. He tentatively reached for Nozel's clasped hands, startling the Silva as his hand came into view. Fuegoleon began to draw back, but Nozel caught his hand before he could retreat. The move wasn't aggressive, but rather, a quiet, gentle plea.

Fuegoleon looked down at their joined hands, satisfied with how naturally they fit together, the warmth from Nozel's touch radiating up his arm, grounding him. Nozel cupped Fuegoleon's hand between his own, studying the lines of his palm, the delicate scars, and the strong, calloused fingers. He turned Fuegoleon's hand over in his palm, tracing his thumbs along the prominent veins, a soft smile playing on his lips. He paused, his finger lingering on a particularly small, white-embossed scar on the inside of Fuegoleon's ring finger—one from when he'd pricked himself on a rose bush while collecting flowers to weave into a crown for Nozel as children.

Nozel's gaze stayed fixed on their hands, his cheeks flushing as he took in the sight. "You don't... have to pull away," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn't lift his eyes, too afraid of what he might find in Fuegoleon's expression, but he didn't let go.

Fuegoleon's lips twitched in a soft smile, his hand tightening around Nozel's. "I won't." His voice was equally quiet, but there was a strength in it that reassured Nozel. They sat in gentle silence, the closeness settling between them as easily as gravity drawing the stars together in the night. Fuegoleon chuckled softly. "You know, it's rather rude to stare at my hands like that, Nozel. Don't you think you should be paying attention to me?"

Nozel's cheeks burned even brighter as he finally dared to glance up at Fuegoleon. His breath hitched as their eyes met. He hadn't managed to catch a good look at Fuegoleon since the battle's aftermath yesterday, only fleeting glimpses of vermilion hair and piercing violet eyes. The awkward crooked smile the Vermillion flashed him was so warm and genuine like he was blanketed in sunshine on a crisp morning. It sent a bittersweet pang of guilt straight to his heart. Here Fuegoleon was in all his crimson motherfucking glory, a barely-there stubble dusting his jawline and his hair still tousled from sleep. Nozel couldn't help but notice how the sunlight filtered through the window, catching the flecks of gold in Fuegoleon's hair, making him look almost ethereal.

It gnawed at him. How he iced Fuegoleon out for scolding him about Noelle's squad placement. How he scoffed when Fuegoleon fell into his coma, swearing vengenace on his assaliant. How he so vehemently refused to visit Fuegoleon for months. How he had lashed out at his squad, his family, at Mereoleona, Fuegoleon's fucking lioness of a sister. How he had disguised his cowardice as indifference. How he dismissed Noelle and buried the memory of his mother. How Fuegoleon had been unapologetically present and empathetic, whether awake or asleep, at every waking hour there for him. How unconditionally he had loved Nozel, and how cruelly Nozel had loved him in return, stringing Fuegoleon along and fooling himself into believing he was justified. Each memory nailed itself like a stake being driven into Nozel's heart.

The man before him—he could finally admit he loved.

In a flash, Nozel was pinned to the Vermillion's bed, caged in underneath Fuegoleon, their lips hovering mere inches apart, breaths mingling in the space between them. Fuegoleon's hair tickled Nozel's face, obstructing Nozel's view of Fuegoleon.

"Fuego, why—?"

Nozel's cheeks felt wet as he reached to brush Fuegoleon's hair behind his ear, revealing a pair of watery, pleading violet eyes. A few tears escaped, trickling down Fuegoleon's nose and onto Nozel's face. Fuegoleon let out a shaky breath. Nozel hesitated for a moment before reaching both hands to cup Fuegoleon's face, lifting the Vermillion's head. Violet met lavender, and with a quivering lip, Fuegoleon muttered a solemn, 'Are you serious?'

Nozel's brain short-circuited for a second as he processed the question. His mouth opened, then clicked shut as he contemplated an answer. What the hell was Fuegoleon talking about?! What was Nozel serious about?! Three seconds. Oh—oh shit...he said it. He finally said it. He voiced his fucking inner dialogue! His mind snapped back to a few seconds ago, recalling paging through his memories before saying those three pivotal words: "I love you," just before being pinned to the bed.

"Yeah... I love you." Nozel's response was a bit too casual as he shied away, sinking deeper into the mattress, his hands dropping from Fuegoleon's face and coming up to guard the explosion of red creeping from his neck to his ears.

Fuegoleon flopped the whole of his body weight onto Nozel, knocking the wind out of him.

"Geezus, get off of me, you big oaf," Nozel wheezed, slapping Fuegoleon's back in exasperation, the color draining from his face as quickly as it had appeared.

"Sorry," Fuegoleon apologized, lifting himself off Nozel before settling next to him, resting his head against palm as he turned onto his left side.

Nozel scooted over to give the redhead more space, kicking aside the sheets Fuegoleon had so haphazardly thrown aside when tackling him onto the bed. He threaded his fingers across his stomach, crossing his legs at the ankles as he stared up at the Vermillion's gaudy crimson canopy.

Fuegoleon watched Nozel squirm, a soft smirk tugging at his lips as Nozel tried to regain his composure, eyes darting anywhere but at Fuegoleon.

Fuegoleon ignited his fire arm, and Nozel shot him a scolding, warning look that read, 'You better not even fucking friction burn me, firecracker.' Fuegoleon gave a dismissive chuckle, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from Nozel's face. "You know," he murmured, "for someone who just said 'I love you,' you seem awfully intent on avoiding me."

Nozel huffed, a stubborn set to his jaw as he grumbled, "I didn't expect you to crush me like a rockslide." But the flush began creeping back onto his face as Fuegoleon's fingers lingered at his cheek, warmth seeping into his skin.

Fuegoleon's smile softened. "I could say it a thousand times if it makes you this flustered."

Nozel groaned, pulling the covers up over his head. "Don't even think about it."

But beneath the blanket, he could not hide the small, embarrassed smile spreading across his face. Fuegoleon's hand traveled down to rest on Nozel's stomach like a heating pad.

"Nozel."

"What?" he mumbled, peeping his head from under the covers. His eyes adjusted to the light, and he found Fuegoleon watching him with an amused expression.

Fuegoleon pulled the blanket down to Nozel's hips and then brought his hand up to cup Nozel's right cheek, his thumb brushing over Nozel's cheekbone, slow and deliberate. His touch was both grounding and electrifying to Nozel. Fuegoleon's hand flared—this time not burning but warmer—as he let out a soft, relieved laugh, a sound tinged with both pain and joy. He leaned in, brushing his forehead against Nozel's, eyes closed. "I love you," he whispered.

In that moment, Nozel's heart raced anew, but it wasn't fear or embarrassment this time—it was exhilaration. His breath hitched slightly at those words, and his chest tightened. He had always been the one to maintain control and keep everything in line, but here, in this quiet room with Fuegoleon, control felt like a distant, unattainable thing. He studied Fuegoleon's long eyelashes for a moment before, tentatively, closing the gap and pressing his lips to Fuegoleon's in a kiss that felt like a release of all the unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings they had buried over the years. Fuegoleon's hand found the nape of Nozel's neck, fingers threading into his hair as he deepened the kiss, their shared longing finally given a voice.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as Nozel became acutely aware of everything—the soft rustle of the blankets, the gentle warmth radiating from Fuegoleon, and the way the light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue around them. All his worries faded into the background, replaced by an overwhelming sense of clarity. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them to this precise moment, and he couldn't let it slip away.

Fuegoleon shifted on top of Nozel, his knee parting Nozel's legs and pressing into his groin. Nozel moaned into the kiss, the sound escaping him before he could hold it back. Fuegoleon's breath hitched at the sound. He responded by deepening the kiss, their mouths moving together in a rhythm that felt both instinctive and new. Nozel's hands found their way to Fuegoleon's back, pulling him closer still. Every brush of their bodies ignited sparks of electricity, a reminder of the heat simmering just beneath the surface of their carefully constructed lives.

When they finally broke apart, both men were breathless, their foreheads still touching as they exchanged soft, shaky smiles. Fuegoleon's thumb brushed away a stray tear of his from Nozel's cheek, and he gave a tender chuckle as he pulled back, his violet eyes bright with warmth and relief.

Fuegoleon shifted again to adjust his balance his knee pressing further into Nozel's crotch. The latter mewled, hand flying to cover his mouth, shooting Fuegoleon a look of pure annoyance.

"Please tell me you are not getting hard from this," Nozel growled through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," Fuegoleon apologized for the second time, withdrawing his knee. "And no, I'm not hard," he affirmed, lying back next to Nozel's left side and resting his fire arm across Nozel's stomach. "I mean nine months of celibacy will do that to you." He let out a rueful chuckle, his fingers tracing absent patterns on Nozel's tunic.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait—" Nozel interrupted, waving his hands frantically in the air. He drew in a deep breath, pressing his palms into his eyes as he sat up, peering down at the Vermillion. "You're telling me," Nozel pointed at himself with the sass of a gay valley girl, "that you," he then pointed at Fuegoleon, "haven't slept with anyone since we had sex on your thirtieth fucking birthday?"

"Well, yeah," Fuegoleon confessed a little too nonchalantly, turning onto his back and balancing on his elbows.

Nozel's mouth fell open as he stared at Fuegoleon in astonishment, trying to wrap his head around the confession. "You're telling me," he started, pointing an accusing finger at Fuegoleon, "that the ever-so-noble Fuegoleon Vermillion—perfect, virtuous, saintly Fuegoleon—has been celibate for nearly a year because of me?"

Fuegoleon shot him a knowing look, considering he had been unconscious, recovering for six months. "Okay, okay, three months," Nozel relented. "But still—" he insisted, voice pitching with a shrill.

Fuegoleon guffawed, rolling his eyes. "Nozel, are you really so confident in your assessment of me to consider me such a floozy?"

"Geezus, how dated do you have to be to use a word like 'floozy'," Nozel shot back, making quotation marks with his fingers.

"You and I are the same goddamn age," Fuegoleon retorted.

"We are five months apart," Nozel countered, raising an eyebrow as if the difference were monumental.

"Don't change the subject," Fuegoleon warned, leaning closer, his gaze intense yet softened by a spark of amusement. "If I recall, you're the one questioning my choices here."

Nozel huffed, turning his head to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks. "Well, I was expecting that after our little exchange before the Magic Knights Entrance Exam, you would have sought out other partners... since we weren't exclusive and all," he muttered, his voice dropping just enough to betray his uncertainty. "Especially for someone with... options," he added, his tone slightly petulant as he did a once-over of Fuegoleon, scanning the redhead from head to toe.

Feeling ever so objectified, Fuegoleon sighed, "I'm not sure if I should be offended or flattered by that, but—" he sat up, adjusting himself to face Nozel cross-legged, taking the Silva's hands in his. His cheeks darkened, and a sheepish laugh escaped him. He raised his head to meet Nozel's eyes. "I haven't slept with anyone but you since we both took up our captaincy," he admitted, his voice soft with a hint of that familiar, almost boyish shyness.

Nozel's jaw was on the fucking floor. The sincerity in Fuegoleon's eyes pierced his soul, his heart pounding in his chest as warmth bloomed in his cheeks. Fuegoleon always had a way of getting under his skin, of saying the things Nozel would never allow himself to admit. Nozel swallowed hard, his bravado faltering as he tried to process it all. He wanted to make a joke, to laugh it off and change the subject, but no words came to his defense.

He stammered, feeling an unexpected warmth in his chest, which only served to fluster him further. He couldn't help but shake his head with a rueful laugh of his own, covering his face with his hand.

"Are—are you serious?" Nozel asked, his voice laced with shock and disbelief, though he wore an expression of optimistic hopefulness.

"Of course I am," Fuegoleon insisted. "Do you not believe me?" His grip on Nozel's hands loosened.

"No, no, no, of course I do," Nozel replied, his grip on Fuegoleon's hands tightening. "I believe you. I...I just wasn't expecting it to be the same for both of us..." Nozel trailed off.

Fuegoleon's mind went blank. Nozel removed his hands from Fuegoleon's, shoving them into his lap and lowering his head in embarrassment. This man would be the death of him. Fuegoleon's chest tightened, and he reached out, gently nudging Nozel's chin up with a finger until their eyes met.

He allowed a gentle smile to break through, the warmth of it rivaling his magic. He eyed the Silva's lips, a silent plea to kiss him. Nozel averted his eyes for a moment before locking them back onto Fuegoleon, giving him the slightest nod. Nothing more than a peck—a slow, languid, chaste kiss that ended as quickly as it had begun. Fuegoleon lingered just a heartbeat longer, savoring the sweetness of their kiss before pulling away.

Nozel shivered as the warmth of the redhead retreated, though it was hardly cold outside; it was a temperate midafternoon in late May. Roughly three in the afternoon, Nozel surmised, judging by the positioning of the sun in Fuegoleon's bedroom. Nonetheless, the Silva shed his feathered squad cape, tossing it haphazardly on the floor as he retreated back under the covers, coaxing the Vermillion to follow him, which he did.

Fuegoleon buried them under the covers, pulling the top sheet, blanket, and comforter over them. The room fell into a hushed silence as they settled beneath the cocoon of fabric, the soft rustle of the covers the only sound. Nozel lay on his back, eyes tracing the golden lining of the canopy above. The Vermillions were nothing if not maximalist, posh fuckers, at least that was how their decor read. Rich violets, gilded golds, and a dozen shades of the regalest reds assaulted his eyes everytime he visited. The harsh garishness of all the color was akin to Mereoleona's and Leopold's characters: brazen, bold, and unapologetically loud, lacking the doses of humility and charisma Fuegoleon boasted in the muted colors of his bed chamber, albeit still brimming with the brightest of reds.

But as opulent and lavish as the Vermillion estate was decorated, there was something far gentler, serene, and familial about their House than the Silva's. All the sterling silvers, royal blues, and muted golds couldn't compensate for the cold cleanliness of House Silva. Here, the walls bore witness to laughter, whispered secrets, and the quiet comfort of togetherness, from the rich tapestries that hung like flowing rivers of color to the scattered books that hinted at late-night discussions over tea. The Silva estate was like a museum in comparison, filled with lonely dinners, stiff formalities, and surfaces polished so pristinely that they muffled the very sound of joy.

Fuegoleon shifted closer, propping himself on one elbow to gaze down at Nozel. His hair spilled over his shoulder like a cascade of flame, the embers in his eyes glistening with a mixture of amusement and affection. He reached out, fingers skimming over Nozel's jawline, hesitant and tender.

He turned to face Fuegoleon, taking in every detail—the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the warmth exuding from his skin, the earnestness that never failed to disarm him.

The heat radiating from Fuegoleon was intoxicating. It seeped into Nozel's skin, winding its way into his very core until he felt warm from the inside out. He exhaled a sigh, part resignation and part contentment, eyes drifting shut as he leaned into the touch at his jaw. Fuegoleon traced the outline of his lips with the tip of his thumb before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You're quiet," Fuegoleon remarked, his voice a gentle murmur. "What's on your mind?"

"Just thinking... about this." Nozel glanced around the room. "About you." He looked up at Fuegoleon. "About us." His hand found Fuegoleon's fire hand.

A comfortable silence settled between them as Nozel studied the length of Fuegoleon's fire arm. It extended out from his shoulder, where his natural arm had been cleanly severed, joining seamlessly with his body as though forged directly from flame and flesh. The flames flickered and pulsed with life, casting a warm, wavering amber glow against the white bedsheets.

"Does it hurt?" Nozel pried, hand exploring up Fuegoleon's fire arm, the flames dancing and parting beneath his touch.

"No," Fuegoleon replied, a somber smile crossing his lips. As Nozel's hand grazed Fuegoleon's bicep, he felt it flex slightly under his touch, as if the muscle itself still existed there—solid and robust. "But I've only had this arm for about thirty-six hours now," Fuegoleon admitted, stretching his fingers, his fire arm coiling with the motion. "But you know, phantom pain." He feigned a chuckle through mournful eyes, turning his head away from Nozel.

Fuegoleon's laughter faded into silence, tugging at Nozel's heartstrings. The Silva reached out, his fingers brushing against Fuegoleon's cheek, urging him to look back. "It's alright to be upset, Fuego," he said, threading their fingers together and squeezing his fire hand reassuringly.

Fuegoleon flashed him a reluctant, watery smile, stealing a glance at their joined hands resting on Nozel's chest. "I know..." Fuegoleon inhaled a shaky breath, hesitating over his next words. "I just... I just feel so guilty. There are Magic Knights who died, and I somehow managed to escape with only my arm lost," he chuckled sadly, running his left hand through his hair.

Fuegoleon looked away, his jaw tense. "It just feels... wrong, somehow. To grieve my own loss when there are families grieving far greater ones."

Nozel cupped his face, forcing their eyes to meet. His thumb grazed Fuegoleon's cheek as he kissed him squarely on the lips, then on the forehead, then on the nose. He tucked Fuegoleon's fringe behind his left ear. "Fuego, yes, countless Magic Knights sacrificed their lives, and yes, losing your arm is less dismal than the loss their families are grieving. But that doesn't dismiss the fact that you lost your arm."

Fuegoleon's eyes softened, the tension in his jaw easing ever so slightly under Nozel's touch. "Believe me, I know," he responded gravely, eyes drawing downward.

"But it's not going to curb your survivor's guilt or help you adjust to living without your right arm," Nozel said, giving voice to Fuegoleon's thoughts.

"Yeah," Fuegoleon whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

Nozel knew there was little he could do to comfort the Vermillion. He had heard from Yami of rare cases where preserved limbs could be reconnected, like when Asta used a bottle of the Witch Queen's magic to reattach the preserved severed leg of a young priest from the Seabed Temple, Kiato, if his memory served him right, or, in the case of forbidden magic, regenerated entirely—like when Vetto used his third eye to regenerate his right arm after Noelle blasted it off during their battle at the Seabed Temple. But the latter had grim consequences. He recalled the weg sprouting from the head of the young servant girl who served the first Wizard King, Prince Lemiel Silvamillion, from overusing forbidden magic—Secre, if he remembered her name correctly.

Simply put, there was no way to regenerate Fuegoleon's arm with even the most advanced healing magic without resorting to forbidden magic—and he wouldn't allow that even if it would restore his arm. He was far too principled and steadfast to stray the path of light and abuse the system. It would certainly be a major adjustment to adapt to life as an amputee even with his artificial fire arm.

Knowing what comfort he could offer, he pulled Fuegoleon down beside him, coaxing Fuegoleon to lay his head against Nozel's chest. Fuegoleon, flustered by the gesture, jolted up momentarily before Nozel's hand came to rest on his head, soothing him as Nozel ran his fingers through his vermilion locks.

Fuegoleon's body relaxed against Nozel, his fire arm dimming until it emitted the softest glow, like embers. They drifted into a peaceful silence as Fuegoleon's fire arm eventually extinguished, his hand fading from Nozel's grasp. His eyes closed, and his breathing steadied to match the rhythm of Nozel's heartbeat beneath his ear.

A tremor passed through Fuegoleon's body, a strangled cry reverberating in his chest. Nozel squeezed him tighter, drawing him closer as Fuegoleon's tears soaked into his tunic. Nozel held him firmly, letting Fuegoleon's silent grief pour out in the safety of his arms. Each ragged breath from Fuegoleon felt like it carried the weight of every life lost, every duty left unfulfilled. Nozel didn't speak, knowing words would do little to ease this sorrow. Instead, he offered his presence, hoping it could be an anchor in Fuegoleon's grief.

After a while, Fuegoleon's sobs quieted, leaving only the faint rise and fall of his chest. He pulled back slightly, gazing up lazily at the Silva. He was too exhausted to move but alert enough to entertain conversation, his energy drained from crying it out.

"This'll definitely take some getting used to," Fuegoleon murmured, rolling out his shoulders as he sat up momentarily.

"Yeah, definitely," Nozel affirmed as he propped himself up onto the pillows, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Fuegoleon's temple.

Fuegoleon crawled over to the right side of the bed, half draping himself over Nozel and returning his head to lie against Nozel's chest. Nozel brushed aside Fuegoleon's hair to reveal the tanned skin of his neck, his fingers grazing the crimson dangle earring adorning Fuegoleon's left ear. "I can't believe you were able to sleep in these things for six months," he remarked, fiddling with the earring between his thumb and index finger.

Fuegoleon turned his head to gaze up at Nozel, hand coming up to meet Nozel's fidgeting fingers. "I'm surprised the nurses didn't remove them," he giggled, "But, I've had them for so long, I hardly notice when I wear them." He pincered the earring between his fingers.

"Yeah, you'd think they'd be uncomfortable," Nozel commented, fingers tickling Fuegoleon's earlobe. The Vermillion moved to remove the earrings, struggling to pull the backing off with one hand. "You don't have to remove them," Nozel urged.

"I know. I'd like to, though." Fuegoleon continued to fidget with the earring backing. "Can't be too healthy having worn them for six months straight, right?"

"Let me," Nozel insisted, pitying the sight of Fuegoleon struggling with one hand.

Fuegoleon reluctantly allowed Nozel to remove both earrings with ease, setting them aside on the nightstand to his left. Fuegoleon was indeed right—leaving his piercings in for the past six months had not been healthy. The cartilage surrounding each of his piercing sites on his ear lobes was bright red and agitated, nothing indicating infection but certainly irritation. He made a note to inform Owen the next time Fuegoleon went for a follow-up wellness visit.

Nozel continued to massage Fuegoleon's ears, catching a mutterance of 'one more thing I need to relearn.' Nozel breathed a resigned sigh at the defeatist attitude, how losing a limb could reduce Fuegoleon to such a pessimist. The once—and still—shining Vermillion in Nozel's eyes. He surmised the best he could offer was support. "We'll figure it out," Nozel affirmed with chaste kiss to the top of Fuegoleon's head.

Fuegoleon stared up at the Silva lovingly, a mirthful smile gracing his lips, carrying a trace of gaiety that drew an equally mirthful smile from Nozel. In an instant, Fuegoleon unfastened the cross flory fitchy securing Nozel's braid and set it aside on the nightstand next to his earrings. The bottom half of Nozel's bangs unraveled into a mess of silver waves. Fuegoleon struggled to contain a laugh while Nozel huffed at hair that had fallen into his eyes.

"Geezus, Fuego," he groaned, unraveling the rest of his braid and fluffing up his bangs. "Do you always have to be such a manchild?" Nozel muttered, shooting him a displeased look.

"What? I thought we were getting comfortable," the Vermillion quipped, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Don't even think about it, mister," Nozel replied, poking his forehead with an accusatory finger, though the protest was thin as it left his lips.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Fuegoleon said, rolling his eyes dismissively, a smirk dancing on his lips. "After all, I'm a gentleman," he added, his tone dripping with mock offense.

"Ya know, it's kinda ironic that neither of us have slept with anyone else since we were both appointed captains," Nozel murmured, tinged with embarrassment, as he shifted the conversation to address the elephant in the room. His fingers fidgeted with his bangs, a small distraction to keep his focus off Fuegoleon's gaze.

That admission broke Fuegoleon out of his pensive daze, a low, soft chuckle rumbling from his gut. The pair were quiet for a long moment, each man stewing in his thoughts. Fuegoleon mulled over his next words carefully. He glanced at Nozel, catching his eye as he posed his question. "When...?"

Nozel hummed lazily, indicating he was listening.

"When did you realize you were in lo—that you wanted us to be exclusive?"

Nozel would usually flush a dozen shades of red at such a blunt question, instead dropping his hands to his lap and answering plainly — a question to a question of a very bittersweet memory. "Do you remember the day of my mother's funeral procession?"

#black clover #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #fuegoleon x nozel #nozel x fuegoleon #anime #bc

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ace-maverick · 3 months ago

Text

Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

Ooooo...another chapter update 👀. Please enjoy my rendition of Vermillion sibling squabbles! Note: This chapter contains some Spanish (with translations to English included). Spanish is my second language, so apologies if it's a bit shit.

~ace-maverick

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 5: Hermanito, Your Boyfriend's Here

Fuegoleon slept until roughly eleven the next morning. Coupled by the flood of morning rays bathing him in warmth and a sharp raking in his chest, he stirred awake with a low groan. His eyelids fluttered open, squinting against the brightness as his eyes struggled to adjust only to be assaulted by Mereoleona and Leopold loitering by his bedside.

Fuegoleon registered a glimpse of gaudy crimson curtains from his peripheral and a cross breeze characterized by Mereoleona opening his windows like she did when they were children to rouse him. He was back at his bed chamber in the Vermillion Estate. Much comfier and ostentatious than the sterile whiteness of the Crimson Lion King infirmary, not that he was objecting.

"Took ya long enough to wake up dumbass," Mereoleona scoffed, a prideful grin plastered on her face, the reflection off her canine tooth practically blinding Fuegoleon.

"Ouch," Fuegoleon grumbled feebly, reaching up to soothe where Mereoleona had ground her fist into his chest to wake him, sparing her a cross glare. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and slumping down to his level dramatically.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Mereoleona snorted, dripping with mockery. "Maybe if you hadn't pushed yourself like we've been telling you, then you wouldn't be back in bed, dickface."

"Dickface? That's a new one," Fuegoleon jested, voice gravely, hoarse, and dry with sleep.

"Oh, shaddup!" Mereoleona snapped, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. "You're lucky I didn't come in swinging."

Fuegoleon smirked despite himself, shifting to rest on his left elbow. "Yeah, lucky me."

Fuegoleon redirected his gaze to Leopold bouncing on his heels in excitement, a bright, infectious grin beaming across his youthful face — not as youthful as it had been six months ago though — while unshed tears glistened at the corner of his eyes. He had sprouted up a few inches, the baby fat on his cheeks smoothing out to a sharper jawline, and the fringe from his bangs nearly covered his eyes, and —

Fuegoleon readjusted himself to sit upright, igniting his fire arm only to be greeted by a firm smack upside the head.

"¡Ay! (Ow!)" Fuegoleon protested.

"¡Nada de usar tu brazo de fuego, idiota! ¡Vas a drenar todo tu maldito maná de nuevo! (No using your fire arm, you ass! You're going to drain all your damn mana again!)" Mereoleona admonished him.

Fuegoleon and Mereoleona continued to squabble in Spanish, the tears welling in Leopold's eyes drying up as he blinked in confusion. Those two always argued; it was like bickering was their love language. But Leopold particularly detested when they argued in another language. He could never follow their fast-slung, barbed insults and jumbled way of speaking Spanish. From the number of times he heard Spanish delivered in an aggressive and brash manner, he would have thought it was a barbaric language, not a romance language.

His face twisted into a pout. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips as his brow furrowed in frustration. Mustering up the bit of Spanish he knew, he stamped his feet like a petulant child. "¡Oye! Stop it! (Hey! Stop it!)"

Fuegoleon and Mereoleona ceased their arguing, each turning to a brooding, discontent Leopold. Fuegoleon smiled sheepishly, waving an apologetic left hand. Mereoleona cackled, clutching her stomach and slapping her knee as she knelt against the bed, keeling over in laughter. Fuegoleon and Leopold exchanged a puzzled look while Mereoleona continued to wheeze at Fuegoleon's bedside.

"Whhaaatttt?..." Leopold whined, pouting further, slumping into himself.

"It's just —" another wheeze and a muted cackle. "It's — ha, ha, ha...ahhhh," Mereoleona breathed a sigh of relief, sitting on her ass and arranging her legs to rest her chin on her knee. "I haven't had a laugh that good in six months. And bro, you're Spenglish is fucking hysterical. Especially your one word of Spanish," she emphasized with a raised index finger, struggling to contain a chuckle behind her other hand.

Leopold whipped his head around so fast his braid smacked him square in the face as he barked a firm '¡Cállate! (Shut up!)'.

"Ohhh...I stand corrected. Two words, smartass," Mereoleona grinned, narrowing her eyes as she leaned in teasingly, she held up two fingers this time. "Look at you, all bilingual now." She chuckled again, but her laughter was lighter this time, her earlier outburst slowly subsiding into an amused smirk.

Fuegoleon sighed and shook his head, "Mereoleona, you're going to give him a complex," he muttered, swiping at a stray hair that had fallen in his eyes. Mereoleona stood up, brushing loose fuzzies from Fuegoleon's carpet off her pants.

Leopold, flushed from the teasing, crossed his arms over his chest tighter and scowled. "I am trying to learn, okay? It's not that easy!"

"I know it ain't," Mereoleona conceded, crossing to where Leopold was at the foot of Fuegoleon's bed, ruffling his hair playfully. Leopold swatted at her hand, shooing her back to Fuegoleon's bedside.

Before either of his siblings could stir up another ruckus, Fuegoleon interjected, waving Leopold over to his bedside. Leopold perched onto the right side of his mattress. Fuegoleon posed the wordless question by pointing to the red diamond burned onto his own forehead, referencing the matching diamond imprinted on Leopold's.

"Oh that," Leopold responded sheepishly, fussing with his bangs to conceal the diamond.

"You shoulda seen him," Mereoleona started slyly, placing a knowing hand on Leopold's right shoulder, "He was going on about how he was going to surpass his big brother and become the next Wizard King and then boldly declared that he and Asta were rivals," she snickered, showing her teeth in a devilish grin. "You know how that goes—he talks a big game, but can he really back it?" She leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Honestly, I thought I'd burst out laughing when Asta challenged him right back, all wide-eyed and earnest. It's like watching a puppy try to take on a lion!"

Leopold glared daggers at her, his lips pressed together in a thin line. "You mean you heard," Leopold mumbled sulking into himself, a blush creeping up his neck as he drummed his fingers against Fuegoleon's sheets. "You weren't actually there, Mereo," he defended sheepishly.

"Doesn't mean, Charlotte's account wasn't accurate," Mereoleona quipped.

"Says who?" Leopold shot back.

"Says me," Mereoleona insisted with a triumphant grin.

"Shut up," Leopold muttered through gritted teeth, fingers digging into the sheets.

Mereoleona mocked him with a whinnying 'shut up' with Leopold blowing a raspberry back at her in response.

"Really?" Fuegoleon interrupted their quarrel, his face flashing with an expression that could only be described as dumbfoundingly curious.

"Well, mostly." Leopold did a one-eighty, rubbing the back of his head bashfully, a shy smile gracing his lips and a light pink tinting his cheeks as he chuckled softly.

Mereoleona rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips and heaving an exhausted sigh. It was clear Leopold had a favorite sibling, but she could not blame him when she had been absent most of his formative years.

"I honestly can't remember all that well," Leopold admitted, averting his gaze to his bare feet—they were civilized in House Vermillion and didn't wear shoes in their siblings' bedrooms—as he adjusted himself to sit cross-legged, pulling his braid in front of him to toy with.

"Well, it's awfully noble of you," Fuegoleon complimented. "You know what it means, right?" he asked. Leopold looked up at him with wide turquoise eyes. "You know what it means, right?!" Fuegoleon questioned, a little too panicked.

"Yes, I know what it means," Leopold sighed, flipping his braid back.

Leopold ears perked at a muttered 'thank goodness' under Fuegoleon's breath. "Heyyy, I wouldn't permanently scar my forehead, if I didn't know what it meant," he defended, pointing to the diamond burned onto his forehead.

Fuegoleon dismissed him with a rumbling low chuckle.

"Speaking of new revelations," Leopold started, an impish smirk appearing on his lips as he threw his head back toward his sister, shifting to rest his weight on his hands, "Are we not going to acknowledge that sister came out of her long retirement from the wilderness to assume the position of interim captain while you were incapacitated, brother?"

Fuegoleon caught on immediately, an equally impish smirk gracing his lips. "Oh yes, Leo. I believe you mentioned that too me briefly after our spat with Randall, right?"

"Of course, eh~...a-ne-ki?" Leopold threw the question at Mereoleona, parsing each emphasized syllable. Her expression twisted into an incredulous pout, but her tense shoulders and hair standing up like a startled cat betrayed her.

Mereoleona's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Don't push your luck, Leo," she warned, her voice dangerously low. The air around her seemed to sizzle, a faint heat radiating as if she might burst into flames at any moment.

Leopold grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "What? I think it's admirable you took on the responsibility, you know, for the family and all that." His smirk widened as he leaned forward on his hands. "It's not every day you leave the mountains to come play with us."

Mereoleona's nostrils flared, and for a moment, it looked like she might incinerate him on the spot. "I didn't 'come to play,' you brat. I stepped in because I had to. There was no way I was going to let some idiot take over the squad while Fuegoleon was out."

Leopold tilted his head, his smirk not fading. "Sure, sure. I mean, it's not like you've been completely out of the picture, right? I'm just saying, you looked good in the captain's cloak—almost like you missed it," he shrugged.

Her lip twitched. Fuegoleon, sensing Mereoleona's patience about to crack, decided to intervene before things got too out of hand. "You know, Mereo." Mereoleona redirected her gaze towards Fuegoleon, a sigh of tension leaving her body. "I've heard nothing but praise from the squad since I woke up. Albeit, it's only been like eighteen hours, but..." Fuegoleon drew his eyes down to his folded hands, fiddling with his thumbs as he paid his sister a compliment. "It speaks volumes when they hold you in such high esteem. I mean, I've been doing this shit for five years now, and it took me nearly a year and a half to win over the squad. Ya know, with all the nepotism allegations when Dad retired, it didn't matter that I'd been a Magic Knight for a decade—"

"And now they all worship at your motherfucking feet," Mereoleona smartmouthed, cocking her hip slightly.

"Well, yes...for lack of better phrasing," Fuegoleon admitted, smiling awkwardly. "Point is, I appreciated it, Mereo. You protected the Crimson Lions in my absence."

Mereoleona eyes softened at the praise, raising a hand to shield a flush dusting her cheeks as she diverted her gaze away from her brothers. "Well...thanks," she muttered behind her hand, coughing to clear the air and recovering with a brash, "Hmph. I don't need anyone's approval."

Leopold eyes flicked between his older siblings as they exchanged words. Ever the instigator, Leopold, undeterred, chuckled with a beaming smile, "Yeah, yeah, we all know you care deep down, aneki. You're just too proud to admit it."

Before Mereoleona could respond, her hand shot out, ruffling Leopold's hair with enough force to knock him off Fuegoleon's bed. "Keep talking, and I'll show you what I care about," she said with a grin, though the fondness in her eyes was unmistakable.

Leopold sputtered, trying to fix his disheveled hair, but his laughter echoed throughout the room, and Mereoleona could not help but crack a wise smile.

"Guess some things never change," Fuegoleon remarked, his eyes glinting with warmth as he watched his siblings.

"Shaddup," Mereoleona huffed, plopping onto his bed and pulling her brothers into an awkward bear hug. Fuegoleon relaxed in the embrace while Leopold struggled against the chokehold Mereoleona had on his neck, smacking her arm and calling 'uncle'. She loosened her arm around Leopold allowing him to settle against her shoulder.

Mereoleona's expression turned more somber and serious. "Neither of y'all are allowed to die, okay?"

"Mereo," Fuegoleon began concerned.

"I ain't going to bury my baby brothers," she insisted, whipping her head to stare at Fuegoleon, her face twisted with unease. "I'm the oldest, so I'm supposed to die first. And y'all ain't allowed to die before you're at least a hundred," she asserted, aggressively nodding her head as she squeezed them tighter.

"Aneki, why are you worrying about this?" Leopold questioned, kicking Mereoleona's shins to urge her to loosen her hold. "Neither of us is going to die anytime soon. I'm not even seventeen yet," he whined, punching Mereoleona's forearm.

"Geezus," she spat, relaxing her grip on Leopold while maintaining a firm hold on Fuegoleon. "Because this shithead"—she jutted her head toward Fuegoleon—"was incapacitated for six months. Made me act so goddamn outta character, being a captain and everything," she barked, a little too pridefully, with her nose upturned.

"I swear," Leopold sighed under his breath. "I ain't gonna die," he declared. "And when I do, it'll be from being a super old man like Great-Grandad. Now he was super old... and wrinkly." Leopold laughed, swinging his legs in amusement with Fuegoleon chuckling along.

"Aneki." Fuegoleon rarely addressed Mereoleona like that since they were children. She was surprised but attentive to hear his request. "Consider my six-month nap a misstep, okay?" he stressed with a weak smile reading 'I beg your mercy for my massive fuck up.'

"Very well," she relented with a listless sigh. "But if you go and pull some shit like that again, I'll beat your ass," she teased, a side smirk dancing on her lips as she elbowed him lightly in the gut. The playful jab was both a warning and a promise

"Alright," Fuegoleon replied, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight smile. He leaned back against the bed, contemplating how lucky he was to have such a chaotic but loyal sister.

"Besides, I'll be sticking around for a while," Mereoleona added, her voice softer now, as if she were revealing a secret. "You'll have to put up with me for longer than you think, so you better get used to it."

"Really?!" Leopold exclaimed, his eyes wide and mouth agape with surprise.

"What do you mean really, dorkus?!" Mereoleona shot back, her tone playfully mocking as she raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, you're out in the Grand Magic Zones most of the year, basking in the natural mana and hunting wild boar and shit," Leopold explained, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. "So I just thought you would fuck off when it was convenient and go back to the woods," he trailed off with a moping lip.

"Don't assume, you asshole," Mereoleona replied sharply, her lighthearted demeanor slipping just a little. She tilted her head, locking eyes with him. "You don't know what my motives are."

"Why shouldn't I assume when you weren't there for my entire childhood?" Leopold pouted, crossing his arms, the hurt in his voice palpable.

"This again?" Mereoleona groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, this again," Leopold insisted firmly, faint angry tears shining in his eyes.

Mereoleona heaved a frustrated sigh. She pulled Leopold to her side, resting his head on her shoulder. "Listen...I did a lot of stupid shit as a teenager, and one of those things was not being in your childhood. But I'm here now and I'm going to be sticking around. So doesn't that count for something." For once Mereoleona was quiet, almost pleading, silently hoping she could mend the gap that had widened between them over the years.

"I suppose," he grumbled, though a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

A flash of silver and billow of a navy cape caught Mereoleona's eye from the open bedroom door. Nozel motherfucking Silva. He must've taken her advice to heart. Ever the matchmaker and meddler in her brother's love life, she cracked her knuckles, linking her fingers and stretching her arms above her head, a wicked grin replacing her soft smile.

"Oye, hermanito. Tu novio está aquí para verte (Hey, baby brother. Your boyfriend is here to see you)," Mereoleona teased, chortling behind her hand.

"¡¿Quu-eé?! ¡¿De qué estás hablando?!(Wha-what?! What are you talking about?!)" Fuegoleon panicked, an indescribable red exploding across his face. Hearing Nozel's name was dizzying. He couldn't see him right now, especially with how they had left things before he fell into his coma.

"Nozel está aquí (Nozel is here)," she deadpanned then checked back to the door where she saw Nozel's hands waving no frantically. "Además, no parecías estar tan nervioso cuando estabas encima de él ayer, permíteme recordarte (Besides, you didn't seem to be this nervous when you were all over him yesterday, may I remind you.)," she chastised, an index finger pressed to squarely to her cunning grin. She loved fanning the flames.

"¡Esa fue la adrenalina hablando! (That was the adrenaline talking!)," Fuegoleon pleaded as Mereoleona stood up to depart, dusting off her pants and pulling Leopold along.

"C'mon Leo." Mereoleona patted him on the back, signaling for them to exit.

"What? But why?" Leopold exclaimed. "I wanna stay with aniue longer," he whined, sulking like a petulant child, crossing his arms and pouting his lower lip.

"Leo," she scolded. It took him a moment to piece two and two together, what with the limited Spanish he knew. But 'novio' meant 'boyfriend' and Nozel was Nozel so — "Oh, Ohhhh—bye aniue." Leopold bounced onto his feet following Mereoleona as they made their way to the open door, exchanging mischievous, knowing smirks as Fuegoleon called after them in a panic, still uselessly confined to his bed.

"¡No lo jodas! (Don't fuck it up!)" Mereoleona wished as she disappeared behind the door.

#black clover #nozel silva #fuegoleon vermillion #fuegoleon x nozel #nozel x fuegoleon #mereoleona vermillion #leopold vermillion #anime #bc

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ace-maverick · 4 months ago

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For the Fuegoleon x Nozel shippers and my commentary on whether Fuegoleon and Nozel are related (they are not) ❤️💙🔥☿️

I dug this up from the trenches of my camera roll. 🫣 Enjoy Fuegoleon x Nozel shippers!

*P.S. I removed this last time because of all the antis and hate it was receiving. I will not be so easily swayed again. If you don't like the Fuenoze ship, kindly keep scrolling.*

P.P.S To settle the long-standing debate whether Fuegoleon and Nozel are related, the simple answer is no.

(1) They share a common ancestor in Lumiere Silvamillion Clover, but he lived over 500 years ago and their bloodlines diverged, deriving the Silva and Vermillion royal houses.

(2) Yes, they both share Mimosa and Kirsch Vermillion as cousins; but, just because you share a cousin does NOT make you cousins. Fuegoleon and Nozel 👏 are 👏 not 👏 cousins 👏. They are EXTREMELY distant relatives and nowhere close to the inbreeding the House of Habsburg partook in from the 15th to 18th centuries. Look up "Habsburg Jaw" and you will see what I am talking about.

(3) I have been a member of this fandom since three years after its conception i.e. I have been a fan since 2018, which will be seven years in June of this year. I am intricately familiar with the lore from the Magic Knights Entrance Arc to halfway through the Spade Kingdom Raid Arc, and can confidently confirm Fuegoleon and Nozel 👏 are 👏 not 👏 cousins 👏. I am not here for shipping wars and I will not participate in shipping wars. Everyone is entitled to enjoy and partake in their own ships — platonic, romantic, bouyant🎣. The point is, don't poo-poo on other fandom members' Black Clover ships (whether they are canon or fanon). But absolutely no incest or pedophilia ships 😤 ... those are just 🤢🤮

Anywho, thanks for coming to my TED Talk. I will now shamelessly promote my Wattpad and AO3 accounts.

I have an ongoing Fuegoleon x Nozel work "Silver Clouds with Grey Linings" published on both platforms and a completed one-shot series of reader x Black Clover character and Black Clover character x Black Clover character one-shots posted on Wattpad. Give them a read!

And don't forget to like, comment, follow, and keep the Black Clover fandom alive! 🎉

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ace-maverick · 4 months ago

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Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

Ooooo...a chapter update 👀. This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3.

~Ace_Maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 4: A Nuisance Worth Keeping

Nozel wanted nothing more than to run to Fuegoleon when he saw him. He had risen from the dead, wielding Salamander, no less. The spirit was much larger and more robust than when he fought with Fana, no bigger than a common lizard back then.

Fuegoleon's mouth was as dry as a desert, agape at the sight of Nozel clad in the black Royal Knights uniform, his neck adorned with the three teal clovers. He wanted to sweep him up and kiss him until he was faint.

But all they did was briefly acknowledge one another before charging into the Shadow Palace. The rest passed by in a blur—the Apostles of Sephirah, the Silver Star of Execution, the elves, Patri. Patri. Nozel whipped his head around. The elf William balanced against his shoulder was Patri resurrected in Licht's artificial body. William's eyes brimmed with tears as he searched Patri's face. He had only seen him in dreams or when his soul took control of their body. Their body. There was a haunting emptiness that lingered in William's chest, a part of him that had been graciously separated from him, now standing in front of him. He wanted to hug him, to crush him in an embrace, but settled for squeezing his shoulder and sparing Patri a bittersweet smile.

That must have been the lover William spoke of. The one he could not see very often, or ever, for that matter, Nozel supposed.

Nozel's magic faltered, the mercury films they stood on liquefying beneath their feet for a moment. How painful it must have been to never get to see or touch the one you love. He could not imagine being kept from Fuegoleon like that. His heart ached at the thought.

"Nozel," Fuegoleon steadied him, placing his hands on Nozel's shoulders and pulling him to lean against his chest. Nozel snapped back to reality, his open grimoire glowing a brilliant silvery blue as the mercury beneath their feet solidified.

"You trying to kill us, silver spoon?!" Yami called over from the mercury film next to them, catching himself on his feet.

Nozel growled, ready to pounce and beat him to a pulp. "Watch yourself—," he began. Before he could finish the sentence with a visceral "foreigner," Fuegoleon retracted him, pulling him closer to his chest and squeezing his shoulders tightly, signaling for Nozel to cool it, the fingers of Fuegoleon's fire arm biting at his skin.

"Nozel." A warning shot with an unmistakably scathing edge. Fuegoleon's arm flared, fingers scratching deeper into his skin. Nozel winced. Fuegoleon withdrew his hand immediately, noticing the scorch marks his flames left behind. Nozel brushed at the burnt cloth, assessing it as nothing more than a friction burn.

Nozel wrinkled his nose at the residual scent, shooting Fuegoleon a piercing glare. Fuegoleon mouthed an apologetic 'sorry', Nozel dismissing him with a wave of his hand. He pouted, pursing his lips and rolling his eyes.

The first breakings of dawn peeked over the horizon, a vibrant crimson flashing across the sky, bathing the clouds in shining ruby linings. Towards the west, the moon set, casting a gentle periwinkle fading against the encroaching morning sun.

A gust of wind struck Nozel, a shiver coursing down his spine. Fuegoleon wrapped his left arm around Nozel's shoulder, his fire arm trailing down Nozel's right arm to rest at his hand, intertwining their fingers. There was a controlled warmth to his hold, one absent from when Fuegoleon burned him a few moments before. The comfort of a campfire instead of the searing bite of salamander.

"Fuegoleon," Nozel scolded, pulling his hand away. "There are eyes."

Fuegoleon shushed him. "Look," he pointed towards the rising sun. Nozel scanned the skyline, they were all too preoccupied admiring the spectacle of daybreak to notice. Fuegoleon snatched his hand back into his grasp, his breath tickled Nozel's ear. "See," he muttered with a low chuckle, pecking Nozel's cheek before stepping back as the sun shown itself in a brilliant yellow.

Nozel stood there, dumbfounded, as a blush crept up his neck. His hand instinctively reached up to brush his cheek where Fuegoleon's lips had landed, the memory sending a jolt through him. He wanted to scoff, to maintain his usual stoic demeanor, but a small, involuntary smile played on his lips. Fuegoleon's brazen affection had left him speechless.

Nozel failed to notice the sun fully cresting over the horizon before a symphony of clearing throats shattered the morning stillness. A brigade of expectant, watchful eyes turned toward him.

"What?" he snapped. Nozel's heart hammered against his ribcage, a flush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. He could feel Fuegoleon's amused gaze on him, but he refused to meet it, knowing it would only deepen his mortification.

"What?!" Nozel repeated, more defensively this time, his voice a bit too sharp.

The others exchanged glances, some stifling grins, others wearing expressions of mild surprise. Yami, leaning lazily on his katana, was the first to break the silence with a low chuckle. "Nothing, nothing. Just enjoying the view," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Beside him, Jack snickered, his jagged smile widening.

Nozel's eyes narrowed dangerously. He hated being the center of attention, especially in moments like these. Fuegoleon, ever the diplomat, stepped forward, his expression calm and unbothered.

"Nozel, if you could be so kind as to take us down," he said with a pleasant smile and a shallow bow.

Nozel returned the gesture with a grin that said, 'Fuck you,' his eye twitching in a way that read, 'You're lucky I don't fucking murder Yami where he stands.'

Nozel took each of them down one by one, their mercury films dissipating as they regrouped with the other Magic Knights. As the last of them touched the ground, Nozel released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Fuegoleon, in all his gentlemanly showmanship, extended his left hand, offering Nozel a step down. The latter rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. He skimmed the crowd, doing a once-over for prying eyes before taking the Vermillion's hand — one step, two step, three steps down off his makeshift mercury stairs. Fuegoleon lifted Nozel's hand to his lips, threading his fingers through Nozel's own, kneading Nozel's knuckles before placing a deft kiss to his fingertips.

"Someone needs to keep this stubborn silver mage in line," Fuegoleon's breath tickled Nozel's fingertips, a pink dusting his cheeks at the prickling sensation, nothing like the prickling singe of Megicula's curse that had choked him months before. This was different — warm, genial, comforting, a new high burying itself under Nozel's skin.

The kiss was fleeting, barely a whisper against his skin, yet it left a lingering heat. His eyes widened, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Fuegoleon to notice. He quickly retracted his hand, brushing it off on his robe as if to rid himself of the sensation, but the warmth remained, gnawing at his usual cold exterior.

"You... you," he stammered, stumbling over his words. "You're... you're a nuisance." Nozel lifted his hand to his face trying to hide his blush.

Fuegoleon chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. Nozel turned on his heels, smiling silently to himself. He took a couple of steps forward before extending his hand backward, waving it subtly at the Vermillion to take. "C'mon, you idiot..." he trailed off.

Matching Nozel's wariness, Fuegoleon surveyed the crowd growing around the debris of the Royal Capital before linking their hands, intertwining their fingers as they walked shoulder to shoulder to meet the others.

Yami and Vangeance fucked off to God knows where to find Julius — if he was still alive that was — meanwhile the remaining able Magic Knights mobilized a search and rescue operation. Fuegoleon appointed himself lead, directing the Magic Knights to divide into the Royal Capital districts as they had during the assault six months ago by the Eye of the Midnight Sun. The dwarf from the Black Bulls, Carmy or something like that, set up a makeshift soup kitchen to distribute food to the displaced citizens and Nozel focused on clearing rubble with the Crimson Lion Kings scouting for missing citizens.

Fuegoleon was everywhere at once, issuing commands with the precision of a seasoned leader. His presence was a beacon amidst the chaos, a rallying force for the Magic Knights and the citizens alike. He moved with ease, his fiery mane of hair catching the light as he turned to address a group of knights nearby.

Nozel couldn't help but watch him, caught between admiration and exasperation. Fuegoleon always seemed so composed, so unshakable. Even now, in the midst of this disaster, he remained a pillar of strength. Nozel would never admit it out loud, but that unyielding confidence was something he both respected and found deeply irritating.

Fuegoleon wiped his brow with the back of his hand, his breath coming a bit more ragged than it should have. Fuegoleon's movements, usually so fluid, faltered for just a moment. It was barely noticeable — just a slight hesitation as he turned his head, his hand coming up to his temple as if to steady himself. Nozel's eyes narrowed. He knew Fuegoleon too well to dismiss it as nothing. He stepped closer, watching as Fuegoleon staggered slightly, his face pale against the licking flames of his fire arm.

"Vermillion," he snapped, cutting through the din of the chaos, his concern bleeding through his usual stoicism. The warning caught the attention of a few nearby Crimson Lion Magic Knights, pausing to spectate the exchange. "Don't overdo it...shithead," adding insult to injury to sound less conspicuous, drawing a few too many chuckles and guffaws from Fuegoleon's subordinates.

Fuegoleon blinked, as if snapping out of a daze, and gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Nozel. Just a bit tired. Nothing to worry about," he said, waving a dismissive hand.

But Nozel was not convinced. His stance was slightly off, his usual fire seemed dimmer. Before Nozel could press further, Fuegoleon took a step forward to address another group of knights.

Nozel opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, he saw it — the sudden loss of color in Fuegoleon's face, the way his eyes unfocused for just a split second. The mage's fiery aura flickered unpredictably, like a candle struggling against a gust of wind. Without warning, Fuegoleon's knees buckled, and he collapsed, crumpling to the ground with a thud, his fire arm extinguishing.

"Fuegoleon!" He surged forward, catching the fire mage just before he collapsed. Fuegoleon's body was heavy against him, the heat from his magic dissipating rapidly as exhaustion took hold.

He could feel the faint rise and fall of Fuegoleon's breathing, but it did little to ease the quiet knot of dread coiling in his stomach. His pulse was steady, rhythmic, and even, but he was out cold.

A series of "Captain", "Captain Fuegoleon", and "Lord Vermillion"s surrounded Nozel as a collection of Fuegoleon's subordinates crowded him. Nozel instinctively pulled the unconscious Vermillion closer cursing under his breath, Fuegoleon's head slumping onto his shoulder. Nozel maneuvered his body to support Fuegoleon's head in the crook of his elbow, his forehead resting against his black tunic of his Royal Knights uniform.

Nozel's heart thundered as a prickling chill of goosebumps crept up his forearms. Beads of sweat trickled down his temple, even though the air felt impossibly cold. His chest tightened, each breath feeling shallower than the last as he tried to wet his mouth by smacking his lips together but all that came was dry heaving.

His vision seemed to narrow, the crowd of knights and concerned faces around him fading into a blur. All he could focus on was Fuegoleon's still form in his arms. His thoughts were jumbled, skipping from one worry to another with frantic speed.

He could hear his own pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out the voices of the others. One of the Crimson Lion Knights reached to try to recover their Captain from Nozel, but his hand was swatted away in practiced precision as Nozel shuffled back a foot, bearing and grinding his teeth like a feral animal at the presumed assailant.

"Someone...someone," he wheezed, "Get, get, get Mimosa or Vangeance or any fucking goddamn healer!" he barked through tears welling at the corner of his eyes.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Mereoleona's gravelly voice rang across the scene.

"Nozel!" She snarled stomping towards him. He registered his name faintly, head jerking to the face of the caller. A few of the knights tried to restrain her from inflating Nozel's panic further to be met with fiery palms to the face.

"Nozel!" She called again, more aggressively, her nose wrinkled in a disgusted sneer as she pushed through the remaining crowd of knights. Nozel registered the approaching seething redhead, blinking to clear his vision as a few tears escaped his eyes, a residual pang of fear straightening his back. Why the fuck was he crying?!

"Gods— motherf—!" Mereoleona bit her tongue at the second curse, spotting a few young, impressionable knights spectating on the outskirts of the crowd. She surveyed her baby brother for a few seconds. He looked like a limp noodle, snoring softly nestled into Nozel's tunic. His skin maintained its usual bronzed ivory and his expression was one of bored peace.

Simply guessing by the flickers of confusion and snickering from behind her, Mereoleona deduced the idiot just overexerted himself and needed a fucking nap.

"Geez..." she grumbled, huffing out a frustrated sigh as she squatted down next to Fuegoleon. She peered at his face for a second before flicking him squarely on the red diamond burned onto his forehead with her middle finger. There was a barely detectable movement under his eyelids.

"Hey," Nozel protested in a petulant whine, chasing her hand away as he scooted back another foot, bumping into a pair of beefy calves.

"Oi, what's the deal, dipshit?" Nozel looked up only to be greeted by a primetime view of Yami's crotch and a cloud of smoke from his burning cigarette, his sheathed katana resting over his shoulder. Nozel practically coughed a lung out waving the smoke away, his tears evaporated from the heat.

Nozel shot Mereoleona a look of pure trauma, like a silver deer in the headlights. Mereoleona snickered under her breath before getting up from her spot next to Fuegoleon. She crossed her arms doing a judgemental once-over of Yami before sparing a sideways glance at a sheepish William behind him.

"What?" Yami carped defensively.

"Ya look like warm shit, Yami," Mereoleona said with a smirk, eyeing the disheveled state of his attire and the constant haze of smoke swirling around him.

Yami shrugged nonchalantly, the smirk never leaving his face. "I'm just here for a good time, not to impress anyone. Besides, you know I do my best work when I'm at my most relaxed."

Nozel managed a weak glare at Yami. "Relaxed? More like a walking disaster."

Yami replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, clearly unfazed. "You should try it sometime, Nozel. Might help you loosen up a bit."

Mereoleona chuckled and shook her head, turning her attention back to Fuegoleon who was still snoozing peacefully. "Alright, enough of the chit-chat. Help me get this one to a more comfortable spot."

Yami gave a mock salute shoving Nozel out of the way as he fastened his katana back on his hip, and he and Mereoleona each wrapped an arm under Fuegoleon's shoulders, his boots dragging along the pavement as they cut through the dividing crowd, hauling him to the Vermillion Estate at Clover Castle.

"I can do it," Nozel interjected, volunteering to take Yami's place as he got up from his spot on the ground, brushing the dust off his trousers.

"Nah, we're good," Yami insisted.

"Yeah, we're good," Mereoleona agreed.

"But—"

"Drop it, Nozel," Mereoleona dismissed him as they continued towards Clover Castle, Nozel following sheepishly along behind them wiping the dry remnants of his tears from his cheeks. William trailed even more sheepishly five paces behind Nozel.

"So...what happened to him?" Yami jutted his chin to Fuegoleon, shooting Mereoleona a curious look from Fuegoleon's left shoulder.

Mereoloena huffed an exhausted sigh, "I'll tell you later," she responded.

"Excuse me, Nozel," William piped up from behind him.

"Yeah," Nozel replied with a hint of irritation.

"Is Fuegoleon alright?"

Nozel pondered the question briefly before settling on a curt, "I'll tell you later." He crossed his arms, nursing his bruised pride.

A gnawing sense of guilt twisted in William's gut.

#black clover #nozel silva #mereoleona vermillion #yami sukehiro #william vangeance #jack the ripper black clover #fuegoleon vermillion #fuegoleon x nozel #nozel x fuegoleon #anime

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ace-maverick · 5 months ago

Text

Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3. Please feel free to leave a like and comment!

~Ace_Maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 3: A Crown of Thorns and Snowflakes

The Crimson Lion Kings' infirmary had a sterile whiteness about it. Nozel stood at the threshold, hesitating for a moment before stepping inside. The faint scent of antiseptic wafted about the air. Fuegoleon lay motionless, his chest rising and falling with each mechanical breath. Nozel approached the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, afraid to disturb the fragile peace that enveloped the room.

Nozel stood vigil by Fuegoleon's bedside for about thirty minutes before perching on a seat to his left. He reached out tentatively, his hand hovering over Fuegoleon's, before intertwining their fingers. Lifting Fuegoleon's hand, he placed a feather-light kiss on his knuckles as a greeting. Fuegoleon's hand was limp, heavy, and devoid of feeling in Nozel's grasp, but his skin still maintained its firmness and suppleness, his nails trimmed and well-groomed. Nozel made a mental note to thank the nurses for their due diligence in Fuegoleon's care.

He pressed his cheek to Fuegoleon's palm, feeling the coolness of Fuegoleon's skin against his own. Nozel closed his eyes, the memories of Fuegoleon flooding his mind like a torrential downpour. He could still feel the warmth of Fuegoleon's embrace, hear the soft cadence of his laughter, and see the tender affection reflected in his eyes. But no matter how tightly he clung to those memories, they slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, leaving him empty and bereft in their wake.

His tears flowed freely as he clung to Fuegoleon's hand, willing the warmth to return to his once lively skin. "I've missed you," he managed, his voice choked and raw, "so much."

With a shaky breath, Nozel bowed his head, his tears falling to mingle with the bedsheets. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should have been here sooner. I wish I—I wish I had talked to you before this." His words echoed softly. He remained still, as if waiting for a response from Fuegoleon, but the room offered only silence in return. Time was a cruel master, and all Nozel could do now was to be there, a sentinel by Fuegoleon's side.

As time passed, Nozel allowed himself to relax slightly, his guard lowering in the solitude of the infirmary. He began to speak softly, his voice barely above a whisper, recounting the latest news from the battlefield and the state of their comrades. It was a one-sided conversation, but it brought Nozel a small measure of comfort, allowing him to admit to himself that finally seeing Fuegoleon brought some tangential relief.

Dusk announced its arrival through the windows, casting long shadows across the infirmary floor as the day waned, signaling Nozel must depart. Reluctantly, he rose from his seat, planting a parting kiss on Fuegoleon's diamond burned onto his forehead. "I'll be back soon, Fuego," he whispered, the rare nickname rolling off his tongue like honey. He lingered a moment, gaze transfixed on Fuegoleon's still form, studying the pallor of his face and the stoicism etched into his features, before turning towards the door.

As he proceeded to the door, he noticed wilting flowers out of the corner of his eye. Morning glories clung to life in a glass vase, their vibrant hues fading to muted tones under the dimming light. He made a mental note to replace them with fresh flowers on his next visit. It would give the room some much-deserved color.

Nozel's visits became more frequent, however carefully orchestrated to avoid encounters with other visitors they were. It wasn't that he didn't want to see their friends and comrades; he simply wanted these moments to be just between the two of them. The visits were sporadic at first, squeezed into his lunch breaks or during late evening escapes from the Silver Eagles Base—sometimes on a Monday, Tuesday, or Friday if he had the time. However, as the weeks passed, they became more regular, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evening. He brought books to read aloud, hoping that the familiar sound of his voice would stir something within Fuegoleon. He continued to relay news from the battlefield, sharing victories and setbacks, always framing his reports with the optimism that Fuegoleon had instilled in him. Each visit became a ritual for Nozel, a series of small actions that brought him closer to the man he missed so dearly.

He was convinced he was being furtive, but the skin on his bones had thickened, returning his gaunt, hollowed frame to its renewed sinewiness, his skin plump and glowing. He devoured full meals, craving mashed potatoes smothered in gravy and roasted duck. And his sleep was filled with sweet, nostalgic memories of Fuegoleon. Reclaiming old hobbies, he hunted game and took up horseback riding once again, activities he hadn't pursued in a long time. While the other captains observed his quiet, rekindled fervor, none chose to seek it out except Mereoleona.

Like clockwork, Nozel excitedly navigated his way through the Crimson Lion Kings' base on a frigid Friday evening, cradling a fresh bouquet of blue morning glories wrapped in parchment paper. The first snowflakes of winter had fallen on the Clover Kingdom. Nozel had traded in his usual sandals for thick boots and donned a heavy woolen cloak, hood pulled over his silver hair. Each hurried footstep echoed through the empty corridors as Nozel proceeded to the infirmary. The days had shortened with the season, the halls dim with subdued indigos, and the Crimson Lion King squad members had been relieved for the weekend, flooding the local pubs in favor of a stuffy evening in.

"Hi, Fuego," Nozel greeted as he pushed the door open, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

Fuegoleon lay on the bed, his eyes closed, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only indication of life. Nozel's heart clenched at the sight, a familiar pang of longing and hope twisting within him. He approached the bed, unwrapping the bouquet to arrange it in the vase on the bedside table, the brilliant blues adding a touch of brightness to the otherwise sterile room.

"The first snow fell today," he began, steady and soothing as he disposed of the dead flowers in the waste bin and poured the old water into the sink. "The kingdom looks like a winter wonderland. You would love it." A subtle smile graced his lips as he recalled the long winter days they spent as children building snowmen and making snow angels, Fuegoleon's hair a fire against the pristine white of untouched snow. The cold never bothered him.

Nozel scrubbed at the vase and refilled it with fresh water before placing it on the bedside table, fishing floral scissors out of the drawer as he began to snip at the leaves below the waterline. "I took up horseback riding again," he shifted the topic with a hint of pride. "Just like old times, you know? It feels good to reconnect with something we used to enjoy together."

A silence settled as Nozel trimmed the flower stems diagonally. He kept himself busy cultivating them in the Silva greenhouse the past few months, gardening and flower arranging hobbies passed down by his mother. He endured effeminate and homosexual allegations for it—neither entirely off base. But he wore his delicacy and androgyny as a medal of pride, considering the qualities regal and rather noble. Who cared if he had to tolerate a few 'sissy' insults here and there?

He barely registered a presence before he felt a flicker of mana similar to Fuegoleon's own but more rebellious and uncouth. A coarse flame slicing through to melt mercury. Mereoleona.

"Hello, Nozel." He still startled despite the number of times she snuck up on him in their youths. The floral scissors slipped from his grip, their metallic clatter echoing against the bedside table.

"Hello, Mereoleona," he replied curtly, refusing to spare her a glance as he swiped the scissors back up and continued pruning the flower stems.

Mereoleona stood in the doorway, her presence filling the room like a roaring fire, her aura as intense and imposing as ever. She didn't wait for an invitation, striding in with the confidence of someone who had long decided that such formalities were beneath her. Nozel could feel her piercing gaze, even as he kept his own focused on the flowers.

"Still playing with plants, I see," she remarked, a hint of teasing in her voice. "You always were the delicate type, Nozel."

Nozel bristled at her words but managed to keep his composure. "And you," he countered, his tone even, "have never understood the value of subtlety and care."

Mereoleona laughed, a sound as fiery as her spirit. "True enough," she admitted, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. "But even I can see that you've changed. You're not the same stiff-necked noble who used to sneer at everyone."

"People change," Nozel replied quietly, placing the last of the trimmed flowers into the vase. He stepped back to admire his work, the blue morning glories standing tall and vibrant. "Especially when they have reasons to." He side-glanced at Fuegoleon.

"Is that any way to speak to your future sister-in-law?!" she cackled, throwing her arm over Nozel's shoulder, practically draping herself over him.

Nozel tensed at Mereoleona's sudden closeness, her presence invading his personal space like a blazing wildfire. He resisted the urge to shrug her off, a furious crimson erupting up to the tips of his ears. He shifted slightly away from her, maintaining a polite distance despite her boldness.

"Sister-in-law," he repeated, his tone measured. "Forgive me for not celebrating prematurely."

Mereoleona chuckled, unaffected by Nozel's standoffish demeanor. "Oh, don't be so uptight, Nozel. It's not like it's a secret. Well, with you two always sneaking off and shit. I'm surprised the squads haven't started betting on it yet."

"We are not gambling fodder," Nozel replied sharply, stumbling back from Mereoleona's grasp.

"So you don't deny it?" Mereoleona pressed, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"No use in denying it around you," Nozel admitted, the memory of Mereoleona walking in on them in their late teens permanently etched in his mind. He remembered the shock, the mortification, and the subsequent teasing that he never lived down.

"Who knew a man's prick could be so tiny?" Mereoleona teased, emphasizing her jab by narrowing the space between her thumb and forefinger. Nozel's face flushed even deeper as he instinctively tugged at the hem of his tunic, trying to cover his crotch. It wasn't small; it was just hard for his dick to not shrivel when she came barreling in like a bull in a china shop, Fuegoleon attempting to spare them an ounce of dignity by scrambling to cover them with the haphazardly strewn sheets and berating his sister for not knocking for the umpteenth time.

"Must you always be so crude?" Nozel snapped sharply with lingering embarrassment and irritation. He focused intently on the flowers, his hands shaking slightly as he arranged the last stem.

Mereoleona shrugged, her grin never faltering. "It's part of my charm," she said unapologetically, approaching Fuegoleon's bedside her face falling to a more somber expression as she processed the sight of her brother. Kneeling unto one knee, she grasped his limp hand in hers, bowing and pressing it against her forehead, muttering a solemn plea in Spanish, "Fuegoleon, por favor, despierte. He tenido que tomar la capitanía en su lugar. Tal vez, es una petición egoísta, pero te echamos de menos. Aunque me avergüenza admitirlo, Leo se ha fortalecido más allá de toda medida. Me temo que él te superará a ti y a mí algún día. Y tu novio sigue siendo un idiota. Dile que lo amas cuando te despiertas y seas ya ordenado."

(Fuegoleon, please wake up. I have had to take up the captaincy in your stead. Perhaps, it is a selfish request, but we miss you. Though it loathes me to admit it, Leo has grown stronger beyond measure. I fear he will surpass you and me someday. And your boyfriend is still an idiot. Tell him you love him when you awaken and be sorted already.)

"No soy un idiota (I am not an idiot)," Nozel mumbled in defense, as Mereoleona turned to cast him a glance. "I may not be as practiced in Spanish as the Vermillions, but I can understand enough to know when you're insulting me." Nozel ran his fingertips across the smooth petals of a morning glory.

The Silva children were tutored in Hebrew, Portuguese, and Latin, whereas the Vermillions were raised in Spanish and German, sharing Latin lessons with House Silva. For as long as he had known Mereoleona and Fuegoleon, they had been bilingual and would speak Spanish when exchanging words they did not want Nozel to understand. He practically begged Fuegoleon to teach him Spanish, sneaking away to the courtyard in the dead of night with a lantern to light the Spanish textbook Fuegoleon would bring along. Portuguese was similar enough to Spanish that Nozel picked it up quickly, but even in his adult years, he would still forget words in Spanish and substitute them with Portuguese or English. Noelle and Leopold spoke incredibly broken Portuguese and Spanish. Nozel mused that both House Silva and House Vermillion might have become lax in their language education, yet Mimosa and Kirsch were practically fluent in all five.

Mereoleona rose from her spot on the ground, shuffling around to the left side of the bed to take the seat opposite Nozel, and ushering him to sit and stop flitting about the morning glories. Nozel sighed, relinquishing his hold on the delicate flower and taking the seat Mereoleona offered. The room was filled with the muted hum of magic and the soft rustle of the beginnings of a snowstorm rattling the window.

He adjusted his posture, sitting stiffly as he usually did, his attention shifting between Mereoleona and Fuegoleon. "Do you ever wonder," Nozel began, his voice barely above a whisper, "what he dreams about? If he dreams at all?"

She shot him a bemused look, sneering, her pronounced canine tooth glinting in the light as the sun dipped below the horizon. "I don't believe he dreams much of anything," she remarked, throwing her head back and threading her fingers together to rest on. She crossed her legs and huffed at a stray piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes.

A beat of silence passed. Mereoleona toyed with her tousled bangs. "You believe… yourself so discreet," she breathed out, focusing on the blurry vermilion of her hair, "but you're not." She whipped her head forward, staring pointedly at Nozel. Nozel returned a baffled look.

"Don't give me that bullshit," she articulated the "t" sharply, cutting and direct. "You've shaped out, not touting the skin-and-bones look anymore." She did a once-over of him from head to toe. She was always incredulous in her scrutiny. "And when did you start horseback riding and hunting again? Last I checked, you preferred reading and gardening, priss princess?" she scoffed.

"Is there a purpose to this," Nozel said, lacking the strength to argue.

"There is," Mereoleona uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, "finally realized you can't pour from an empty cup, eh?" She paused, her eyes searching his face for a reaction. "What I'm saying, Nozel, is you've gotten better. You're eating again, sleeping again… indulging again. You're not a walking corpse anymore." Her voice was firm but held a note of approval.

Nozel remained silent, his eyes fixed on her, his expression unreadable. His jaw was set, and his elbows rested calmly on his knees.

"Anyone with eyes can see it. That you and him have something." She tipped her head towards her brother. Her tone was genuine, a rare softness creeping into her voice for what felt like the first time in a long time since thiey had spoken.

The faintest of nods, almost imperceptible, was the only response he gave.

Mereoelona's eyes darted around the room, her displeasure rising at Nozel's apathy. She crossed her arms tightly, her fingers tapping impatiently against her biceps. "If you're afraid of telling him because you think someone will care, they won't. My parents certainly didn't give a shit when I told 'em I like licking pussy and wasn't going to take the Vermillion title." Her expression hardened as she spoke, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowing. She leaned forward slightly, her gaze boring into Nozel, daring him to react. Her posture was tense, every muscle coiled with barely restrained anger.

"Nozel…"

Nozel's eyes flickered, his lips pressed into a thin line. He finally shifted to mirror her posture. His fingers intertwined, knuckles white from the pressure. His breath was slow and measured.

"You love him, and he loves…"

"I do. I do love him," Nozel asserted, not permitting Mereoleona to utter the final 'you' of her sentence. He refused to believe that Fuegoleon could love him as truly and profoundly and deeply as he did. He refused to believe Fuegoleon could love a monster like him. A man who ostracized himself from his family, his squad, his lover. Someone so closeted and meek and paralyzed he couldn't save his own mother from dying.

Nozel's brows furrowed, his voice resigned. "I love him, and that is exactly why I cannot tell him."

"Do you believe you are protecting him? Yourself?" Mereoleona pressed, her words cracking like a whip through the taut air. Nozel's gaze caught the residual flames dancing off her eyelashes and the wisps of her vermilion hair. Despite the unbridled and feral appearance of Mereoleona's magic, she boasted exceptional control and mana perception. Her flames were masterfully wild. However, whenever she couldn't contain her emotions, they would leak into her magic. It was more tame now. But in her youth, she had set her clothes on fire and burned holes in her bedspread countless times. The last instance Nozel witnessed was when she demanded to see Fuegoleon just after he was admitted to the medical ward at Magic Knight Headquarters before being transferred to the Crimson Lion Kings' infirmary. She shrieked and wailed, clawing at the guards who restrained her. Her skin burnt so hot that her tears sizzled and evaporated. She cried pure molten lava at his bedside. They spent a week scraping up rock from the medical ward floor. Nozel had never seen her so hysterical.

Nozel ground his teeth, his gaze dropping momentarily before meeting hers again. "You are permitted to gallivant and indulge to your heart's content because of him," Nozel jutted his head toward Fuegoleon, "because you did not want the title of head of House Vermillion. I, too, may have siblings I can abdicate my title to, but that is a sacrifice I am not willing to make." Nozel slammed an open palm against his chest.

"You call it a sacrifice, but it's more of an excuse. At least I had the guts to face my truth, to live it," Mereoleona growled, teeth bared and knuckles white.

"You are not in love with royalty. Let alone a royal from our kingdom," he spat. Nozel had only ever seen Mereoleona sneak around with common women and, at best, a low-ranking noble. "I am expected to sire an heir, and I can't even touch a woman that way without vomiting." There was a cold detachment in his voice, a trace of bitterness at his expectedness.

A coolness permeated the room. The flickering light from Mereoleona's flames cast eerie shadows on the walls. "Nozel, your pride blinds you," Mereoleona's voice softened but carried a dangerous edge. "Do you think being head of House Vermillion is a burden I shirked off lightly? It's a mantle I was born to bear, just as you were with House Silva. But unlike you, I chose to live authentically. I chose to prioritize my heart, my truth over the weight of tradition. And if you think Fuegoleon doesn't feel the same burden, you're wrong. Yet, he doesn't let it dictate his heart. He loves you, Nozel. He has always loved you, despite your pride and self-imposed isolation."

Nozel's fists clenched tightly, the veins on his hands popping against his pale skin. He spared a downcast glance at his boots.

The scraping of Mereoleona's chair against the stone floor grated on Nozel's ears as the chair's feet bumped across each grout line. Mereoleona stacked her chair before coming to rest by Nozel's side. She placed her hand on Nozel's shoulder. His head shot up to meet hers, but Mereoleona's gaze remained on Fuegoleon. "The people who love you and care about you won't give a shit. They will only care that you are happy. They will still love and support you," Mereoleona said, squeezing his shoulder firmly. She patted him twice on the back before brushing past him to the door, her cloak billowing against her ankles.

The wrist cuffs of her sleeves were singed. It smelled like charred flesh: metallic and acrid. Nozel was royally fucked.

#black clover #fuegoleon vermillion #nozel silva #anime #mereoleona vermillion #Fuegoleon x Nozel #Nozel x Fuegoleon #Fuenoze

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ace-maverick · 7 months ago

Text

Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3. Please feel free to leave a like and comment!

~Ace_Maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 2: Three Chance Encounters

Fuegoleon refrained from pressing Nozel further about Noelle or Acier, trusting him to approach Fuegoleon when he was ready. The days leading up to the Magic Knights Entrance Exam were relatively mundane and uneventful. Nozel's neck wound faded to a textured scar, regaining his strength albeit the occasional bouts of fatigue. He withdrew further, returning to his usual guarded demeanor. Their interactions were brief and formal, Nozel making a very concerted effort to distance himself from Fuegoleon.

Exam day had its usual shining stars and problem children. A screaming pissant of a peasant and golden boy from Hage heeding special attention. Vangeance swiped up the cream of the crop and, after an unflattering tantrum, Yami agreed to take on the runt.

The outings to gay bars and hikes to Ultime Volcano Mountain Trail were postponed till the new recruits were trained up and acclimated to missions. The distance between them widened and not even two months later a terrorist attack was launched on the capital and Fuegoleon fell into a coma.

At first, Nozel refused to visit. He refused to believe he could bear the sight of his oldest friend, his confidante, his lover, comatose, incapacitated, lying in an infirmary bed. Fuegoleon's absence left a palpable void in Nozel's life, a void that grew more pronounced with each day. He lost his appetite, a noticeable gauntness sinking into his cheeks over the weeks. His nights were rough and relentless, the insomnia leaving his mood foul and his body creaking come morning. Then there were the slips of tongue and crying fits. The other captains' started to suspect something was wrong when Nozel dismissed himself at the monthly captains' meeting preceding the Star Awards Festival where Mereoleona was announced as Interim Captain of the Crimson Lion Kings.

Dorothy was the first captain to broach the subject.

"You should go visit him," Dorothy's words sliced through the stagnant air. Nozel nearly spat his tea out, sputtering in shock.

"I will do no such thing," Nozel rebutted, sharp and defensive.

"Yes, you will," Dorothy insisted in a sing-song tone, her eyes narrowing as she directed a very pointed glare at Nozel while sipping her tea with deliberate calmness.

"No, I will not," he pouted.

"Yes, you will," she repeated, her tone unwavering, almost mocking in its sweetness.

"No, I will not."

"Yes, you will, Nozel," Dorothy's voice rose, losing its playful lilt. She slammed her teacup down on the saucer, the sharp sound echoing through the Glamour World.

Nozel's eyes widened at the uncharacteristic display of frustration from Dorothy. Her usually serene demeanor had cracked. He opened his mouth to argue further, but the intensity of her gaze stopped him.

"Do you think this is easy for anyone?" she continued, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "Do you think the rest of us aren't affected by his absence? Do you believe we haven't noticed?" Dorothy punctuated her words by giving Nozel a once-over.

Nozel's eyes drifted to the lukewarm cup of tea in his hands. He failed to register Dorothy abandoning her spot on the opposite couch and floating over to observe Nozel in the armchair.

"You know," she began, startling Nozel from behind.

"Don't do that," he cursed, nearly spilling tea on his tunic.

"Sorry," she giggled, swimming in the dreamscape around him. "You know, there's a new thinness to you. Your skin is paler than your usual complexion," she said, poking his cheeks.

"Hey," he protested, swatting her away.

"Anddd..." she elongated the note, suddenly appearing in front of Nozel in a puff of smoke, "your eye bags have eye bags," she teased, pulling on her lower lash line as she spun upside down, chortling to herself.

"Is there a purpose to your teasing?" Nozel questioned, huffing as he finally shooed her back to the couch.

"There is," she paused, settling back on the couch as she used a silver spoon to stir two sugar cubes into a freshly brewed cup of tea. How she managed that sleight of hand, Nozel would never know. "Grief can manifest itself into physical symptoms in certain circumstances. You are those circumstances," Dorothy asserted, pointing her spoon at Nozel.

"And do you believe me seeing Fuegoleon would alleviate these symptoms?"

Dorothy pondered for a minute, tapping the spoon to her chin. "Honestly, I have no idea," she stated with a too-cheery grin. "Buttt...I still think you should." She licked the excess tea off the spoon, her tongue darting out in a playful gesture.

"I can't though. It's not that simple," Nozel groveled, his voice tinged with regret.

"Nothing is simple with you, Nozel. Well, because it's you," she sighed, the quip accompanied by a gentle smile.

"I would, but... we didn't really leave things off on the best note," Nozel confessed, heavy with guilt.

"And what do you mean by that?" Dorothy pried, curiosity evident in her expression.

"I slipped about the curse," Nozel mumbled, his words barely audible.

"What?" Dorothy leaned closer, struggling to catch his confession.

"I slipped about the curse," he confessed, gripping his teacup harder as he repeated himself.

"Nozel!" Dorothy exclaimed, bouncing on the couch.

"Don't chastise me! I haven't been able to speak a word of it for fifteen years. You couldn't blame me for my slip-up," Nozel defended himself.

"You're not wrong," she conceded, her expression softening as she empathized with his plight.

"It took effect... and choked me out," Nozel admitted, fingertips brushing the lifted scar circling his neck. It has faded even more in the past few weeks returning to its warm ivory tone and losing its rough texture. The memory of that moment still sent shivers down his spine, the sensation of suffocation still fresh in his mind despite the passage of time.

"So that was what the weird insignia was on your neck," she commented, connecting the dots.

"Yes, that was what the weird insignia was on my neck," Nozel confirmed, his tone resigned. "It—it was the oldest conversation in the book," he added.

"Noelle," Dorothy suspected, her voice soft, acknowledging the weight of the name.

"Noelle," Nozel repeated, the name heavy on his tongue.

"You owe no one an explanation, Nozel. But for someone you sleep with on the regular, were you not expectinvjg to eventually share with Fuegoleon?" Dorothy's question cut through the tension, her words blunt yet understanding.

A blush crept up to his ears at her directness. "You're not supposed to know about that," he whispered to himself, embarrassed by the sudden spotlight on his personal life.

"I and every other captain who doesn't have their head shoved up their ass know," she announced, carrying a touch of amusement at his discomfort, breaking the tension with a hint of humor. "Besides, I see how you look at him." Dorothy leaned into the couch, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she watched Nozel squirm under her scrutiny.

Nozel shifted uncomfortably, attempting to steer the conversation back on course. "I, we, didn't talk about it or talk in general before... the incident," he stammered.

"You can say assassination attempt, Nozel," Dorothy interjected, her tone laced with impatience.

"Just because I can doesn't mean I want to, Dorothy," Nozel retorted, a flicker of defiance in his eyes.

"Fair enough."

"As I was saying," Nozel continued, emphasizing each word, "We didn't talk about it or talk in general before the incident." Dorothy rolled her eyes in response, a silent commentary to his evasion. "He just seemed uninterested after the curse effect," Nozel admitted regretfully.

"Maybe because he was traumatized from seeing his lover choked out," Dorothy suggested, her words a gentle prod.

"We are not lovers," Nozel insisted defensively.

"Whatever you say, Nozel," Dorothy replied, her tone taunting. "But you can't be one to talk when you were keeping your interactions business and barely spared him the time of day."

"I was busy," Nozel protested, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "With the Magic Knights Entrance Exam approaching—"

"On the rare occasion have I seen you too busy for Fuegoleon," Dorothy interrupted, a pointed accusation.

"That was the exception," Nozel argued weakly, his resolve faltering under Dorothy's knowing glance, the turquoise rings around her pupils shining through.

"Nozelll," Dorothy drawled, palming at her face. "Just admit you were avoiding him. I know you regret how you left things with him, and if you're expecting me to provide a fix-it-all solution, you are shit out of luck."

Nozel sighed, Dorothy's words settling heavily on his shoulders. A gnawing guilt clawed at Nozel's insides. A bitter aftertaste in his mouth as he realized how much he had taken for granted. Perhaps from the tea or the knot coiling in his stomach.

"Look," she took a calculated sip of her tea, the porcelain cup delicately poised between her fingers as she savored the moment, placing it down on the coffee table separating them afterwards with a gentle clink. "I think you, and your health," she emphasized, wagging her finger at Nozel, "would really benefit from visiting him. Just consider it, okay?"

"Okay," he replied with reluctant acceptance.

Then there was Yami and Jack.

Per usual, the captains were invited out drinking by Julius after their monthly captains' meeting, a convenient excuse for him to slip away from Marx to go gallivanting among the common folk for new and nefarious types of magic. So, he was nowhere to be found when Nozel arrived at the bar.

He exchanged idle, respectful chatter with William, Charlotte, and Dorothy, discussing their squads' prospects and losers. Sir Kaiser had left on business with his wife after the meeting and usually could not be bothered to partake in drinking with the younger captains, something to do with his age. Nozel could only assume that Rill had come up with another creative excuse to return to his painting; he, too, had a notable difference in age compared to the seasoned captains in their late twenties to early thirties. Mereoleona, Yami, and Jack made themselves busy gambling their recent earnings away, with Yami and Jack growing more belligerently drunk throughout the evening. Nozel wondered how they pounded back beer after beer without either growing a gut, while he was still nursing the same martini he had ordered earlier in the evening, already woozy and buzzed.

William, Charlotte, and Dorothy tapped out long before him. Charlotte, in her own drunken stupor, was draped over Dorothy's shoulders while William supervised. She kept muttering about Yami, and Dorothy had the gall to suggest he wasn't discreet. All the captains, to quote Dorothy, "who [didn't] have their head shoved up their ass, [knew]," except for Yami. He was too dense and too dimwitted to realize. Dorothy had ushered Nozel to accompany them back to headquarters, but he refused, feeling drowsy and mirthful as he dozed off, his head hidden between his arms as he slumped over the table.

"Your grave, dumbass," she muttered under her breath, flipping him off as she exited.

Mereoleona was next to depart, shoving him awake some thirty minutes later, her parting words being that she volunteered him for the next round with Yami and Jack.

"C'mon, prissy pants. You're replacing Sisgoleon," Yami called from the next table over, his breath rank with alcohol, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

"Unlike you, I choose not to play fast and loose with my salary, brute," Nozel attempted a scathing edge, his speech instead coming out slurred and muddled still groggy from his brief nap.

"What, you too chicken, silver stiff?" Yami taunted, Jack cackling along in the background, clearly baiting him to play into their sorry excuse for poker. Nozel shot them a withering glare, his grip tightening on his drink, irritation simmering under his restrained exterior.

"We ain't playin' for money anymore, dickhead," Jack howled, nearly bursting Nozel's eardrums. He assumed Jack had zero self-awareness of his volume when hammered.

"Yeah, we're playin' for secrets, now. Sisgoleon bled us dry!" Yami laughed, slapping his knees. "And you're just the ticket to spill 'em, prissy."

Nozel mulled over their offer for a brief minute. A superior second to returning to Silver Eagles Headquarters and entertaining Solid or Nebra, with their incessant bickering and petty power plays. Nozel could already hear Solid's grating voice complaining about some trivial matter, while Nebra would likely be preoccupied with her latest scheme to one-up her brother. The thought of spending another bleak evening in their company made Nozel's stomach churn with boredom. He could use some excitement. He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp, slamming the glass on the table. "Deal me in," he challenged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the brain fog clouding his better judgment as he stumbled over to their table.

"Alright, Mr. Hubris. You think yourself such a big shot. Where's that defeatist attitude of yours? Let's see if your money is where your mouth is," Yami jeered as he shuffled the cards with practiced ease.

"Big talk coming from the man who can't even hold his liquor," Nozel quipped sarcastically taking the seat left to Yami, crossing his arms over his chest.

Yami shot him a mock glare, his grin widening into a mischievous smirk. "Oh, you're one to talk, braidface. Last time I checked, I didn't see you winning any drinking contests," he retorted.

Jack, ever the instigator, couldn't contain his laughter at their banter, his booming voice echoing through the dimly lit bar. "Looks like we've got ourselves a real showdown here, boys," he chortled.

Nozel was well-versed in the more refined games of chess or cribbage. He had dabbled a few times in poker, but the alcohol emboldened him beyond his typical reserve and he was feeling risky tonight.

The questions started cursory and superficial: favorite color, favorite book — Yami didn't read, no surprise there — most recent mission destination. Three hands in they became more prying and scrutinizing.

Nozel learned that Yami hailed from a region called Goshu in Hino Country. There, their surnames preceded their given names, making Yami's given name Sukehiro. It is considered disrespectful and impolite to refer to someone by their given name unless you are family, close friends, or in an informal setting. Their culture is collectivistic, quite similar to Nozel's upbringing. Everything was for the Silva name.

The sword Yami wielded was called a katana, and he used a fighting technique called Ki, similar to Mana. He had a sister five years younger than him and his father was an abusive prick. He shipwrecked onto Clover's shores after fleeing Hino Country, meeting Julius shortly after.

Nozel learned that Jack's father was a common hunter, poaching small game until his untimely death to a brown bear when Jack was thirteen. His mother was a prostitute, and he never knew his siblings. But his father told him they died of cholera after relocating to another village in the common realm.

The evening drew on, the alcohol loosening their tongues. Yami and Jack alone polished off another three steins of beer each. Nozel, on the other hand, opted to order a glass of wine. The table was cluttered with empty beer steins, contrast to Nozel's meager wine glass, sitting half-full and abandoned within the triangle of his arm. His vision was tunneling and cloudy, and his hand was shit, another hiccup escaping his lips as he surveyed his cards once more.

"Your move, Nozel," Yami glanced at him with a shit-eating grin. Nozel tried to maintain his composure despite the alcohol dulling his senses. He snapped a glance at his cards, but all he saw was a mediocre pair staring back at him. With a shaky breath, Nozel pushed his chips forward, trying to muster some semblance of confidence. "I'll raise," he said, his speech garbled and slow.

Yami's grin widened, and Jack raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing look with Yami. Nozel's attempt at a bluff was clear. Yami chuckled softly as he revealed his cards, laying down a royal flush with a flourish. "Not bad, silver stiff, but not quite good enough," Yami said with a smirk, raking in the pot with a triumphant grin. Beside him, Jack revealed a full house, adding insult to injury.

They had already pried embarrassing stories about his early Magic Knight days out of him, stories that made Nozel blush and squirm uncomfortably in his seat. But it seemed the night was not done with him yet.

"Let's see," Yami drawled, scratching the stubble on his chin as he kicked his boots up, clattering the beer steins and nearly tipping Nozel's wine glass over.

"Yami," Jack scolded.

"Shut it, beanpole," Yami retorted, waving a dismissive hand in Jack's direction before fishing a fresh cigarette and his lighter out of his pocket. Nozel's stomach churned nervously as he braced himself for whatever Yami had in store. "Ain't no point in askin' about yer family. I already hear enough of that from Noelle."

Nozel felt a twinge of discomfort at the mention of his family, particularly Noelle. Their relationship was strained at best, and he preferred to keep it that way.

"You don't know about my ma, so I ain't gonna ask about your ma," he continued, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke, shooting Nozel a pointed glance. "And stringbean and I already know enough about your past since the whole kingdom likes to parade it around," Yami remarked, tapping the ash from his cigarette into an empty beer stein. As Yami continued to contemplate his question, he stubbed out his cigarette on the ashtray the barkeep had slipped onto the table.

Nozel clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to snap back at Yami. He knew all too well the rumors and whispers that circulated about his family, about his past.

Yami chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Nozel's spine, a definitive sign he landed on the question of his choice as he lit his new cigarette. "How 'bout this?" he started, taking an experimental puff of his cigarette, exhaling smoke rings in Nozel's direction. "When you gonna visit Fuegoleon?"

Nozel's eyes widened, the name alone enough to sober him up. He avoided the infirmary like the plague, convinced the sight of Fuegoleon would be a stark reminder of his own failings and the responsibilities he often shirked in favor of his pride.

"That's none of your business, Yami," Nozel snapped, his voice harsher than intended, the alcohol amplifying his agitation. He snatched his wine glass, downing the contents in one gulp. The bitter liquid did little to soothe the bitterness in his heart.

Yami's grin never wavered. "It ain't about business, Nozel. You know as well as I do that he ain't doin' well. Owen's been on 'bout bleak prognoses or something else. Point is you should see him. Even the toughest captains need their crew to visit sometimes, especially when they're stuck staring at four walls."

Jack, who had been silent, leaned forward, his eyes narrowing at Nozel. "Yami's right," he said, clipped and devoid of warmth. "It's about time you faced it. Faced him. You're better than this, Nozel."

Nozel bristled under the combined pressure. A vein pulsed angrily in his temple, and he scoffed. "Oh, please!" he snapped, his voice laced with disdain. "I already have Dorothy up my ass about seeing him, I don't need you to. It's not like either of you to meddle in his or my business," he added, side-eyeing both of them.

Leaning back in his chair, he steepled his fingers and studied Nozel with amusement dancing in his dark eyes. "But it's not like you're exactly discreet about it," he said, a playful jab. "Remember that time after the Royal Capital assault? You damn near ripped Julius's door off its hinges demanding healers for Fuegoleon. You weren't exactly poker-faced, silver spoon."

Nozel flushed, a prickling heat spreading across his cheeks. He shut his mouth with a click, momentarily stunned into silence. Yami's sharp memory was both a blessing and a curse. He guffawed, but the sound lacked its usual heartiness. It was more like a bark, a choked expulsion of air, edged with a bitterness that mirrored the wine he'd gulped down.

Yami threw his head back and laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the room. "Oh, spare me the bullshit!" he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "You both might put on a good show of being stoic rivals in front of everyone else," he continued, raising an eyebrow at Nozel, "but it's as clear as day to anyone with eyes how you light up like a damn Christmas tree whenever he walks into a room. And Fuegoleon ain't any better, let me tell you."

Yami's voice softened, and he leaned forward, placing a hand surprisingly on Nozel's shoulder. "Look, Nozel," he said, seriousness replacing his usual amusement, "I don't give a damn if you're into men, women, or a goddamn grimoire. Hell, beanpole's fucked his fair share of men and I've been around the block myself. My whole squad is a bunch of misfits and I sought 'em out that way." He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily towards the ceiling. "Just swallow your pride and go see him, alright?"

An awkward silence passed before Jack suggested another round of poker. Nozel nodded, grateful for the diversion. They shuffled the cards, the sound a welcome distraction as they settled into the familiar rhythm of the game. After that evening, Nozel had a newfound respect for Yami and Jack.

William was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Nozel had reported to the Magic Knights Headquarters to meet with Julius and Marx to debrief on a dungeon raid that occurred in a northern border city of the Clover Kingdom. He sat in the waiting area outside the Wizard King's office, growing restless as the minutes passed by.

His foot tapped impatiently, the straps of his sandals too tight, and the fabric of his tunic itchy against his skin. He began to pick at his fingernails, scrutinizing the imperfections as he fought the urge to gnaw at the loose hangnail on his left index finger and the callouses lining his palms.

The office door opened with a loud creak, diverting Nozel's attention away from examining his nails. William exited, and Marx popped his head out from behind the door, shooting Nozel an apologetic look. "Lord Julius will be with you soon, Nozel. Thank you for your patience," he said, bowing deeply as he zipped away with the hurriedness of a hare.

Nozel deflated onto the loveseat, brushing his braid out of his face as he fidgeted with the cross flory fitchy that secured it. William settled at the entryway table, removing his mask as he observed his scar, smoothing his fingers over it.

Nozel's gaze wandered from focusing on his braid, landing on William's face reflected in the mirror. The sight of the distinctive scar drew his attention like a magnet. It zigzagged across William's features, a stark contrast to his otherwise smooth complexion.

William looked up, meeting Nozel's eyes in the mirror with a faint, enigmatic smile. He seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking. "It's from a curse," he said quietly. "A curse on my mother's side of the family."

"It's quite a scar," Nozel commented, his tone flat but curious. "Hard to believe two of the nine captains are cursed," he jested, ever mindful not to mention his own affliction, referencing Charlotte as a cover.

William's smile remained, though a hint of sadness clouded his eyes. "Indeed," he replied softly, his voice tinged with a melancholic tremor. "It seems fate has a peculiar sense of humor." A stark silence descended upon them. Finally, he broke it, a hint of amusement flickering in his saddened gaze. "I must admit, I'm surprised you didn't run away screaming like half the other people."

Nozel's lips twitched into a barely perceptible smirk, though his eyes remained steely. "I don't scare easily," he replied, his tone neutral. He returned his gaze to his nails, his mind drifting to Fuegoleon. It had been two months, and he still hadn't visited him, despite the incessant demands from Dorothy and the death stares from Mereoleona. Yet, the grief seeped into every crevice of his being, poisoning his thoughts and corroding his spirit. His movements were sluggish and labored; his appetite had all but disappeared, his meals reduced to tasting like ash on his tongue. He threw himself into his duties with a fervor bordering on obsession. But no matter how hard he tried to escape, the specter of Fuegoleon loomed over him like a shadow.

He often remembered the warmth of Fuegoleon's fingers when he held his hand, how he kissed Nozel's hand to greet him before kissing him. How they danced in the pouring rain and spent hours in each other's company. How Fuegoleon could gently fuck him or roughly make love. How much he wanted to say 'I love you', but it could never pass his lips.

His eyes watered at the memories, dazed again, a new relaxedness to him as was the absence in his eyes, like happy death.

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" William asked softly, his voice breaking the silence that had settled between them. Nozel's gaze snapped back to William's reflection in the mirror, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of Fuegoleon's name.

He hesitated, torn between the decision to deflect the question and the need to acknowledge the truth. "It's none of your concern," he replied curtly, a defensive edge creeping into his tone as his nails dug into his palms.

William's expression remained impassive, but his eyes held a gentle understanding that belied his stoic facade. "Perhaps not," he conceded, pausing to consider his next sentence. "I—I too have someone incredibly precious to me as well. But unlike you," he turned his neck slightly to catch Nozel in his periphery, "I cannot see him right now, nor very often. But I'd give anything to see him this moment," he said, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory. White hair, golden eyes, pointed ears, and the smile of an angel, even with how twisted Patri could be.

Nozel's curiosity was piqued, his resentment fading as he turned his full attention to William, who continued to stare into the middle distance. "Him?" Nozel echoed, surprise evident in his voice. The realization dawned on him, and he couldn't hide his astonishment. William was queer. He had his suspicions, but given the number of fangirls he had, he assumed he could perhaps straight, affording one of them a chance to be his bride. But then again, William was incredibly tight-lipped about his love life.

"I'd expect you would understand why I keep such information private," William continued, his voice calm but tinged with a hint of lament. "The public is none too forgiving with their scrutiny on these matters towards nobles."

Before Nozel could stop himself, he asked the burning question on the tip of his tongue, "When did you know?" He was gay and Fuegoleon was bisexual. He had been all too certain of his sexuality by his early twenties. On the rare occasion that he met another closeted queer person open to sharing their sexuality, he would pry.

William chuckled fondly at the bluntness, turning fully to face him. "By the time I was eighteen, I would say."

"My apologies, I didn't intend to—" Nozel began, realizing the frankness of his question, but William's hand rose, halting his words.

"I am not offended, Nozel. I appreciate your candor," William reassured. "Not too many people are fond of discussing such things with me. More often than not, they respond with disgust rather than understanding," he remarked, turning back to the entryway table to retrieve his mask.

"I must take my leave," William stated, adjusting his mask as he walked past Nozel on the loveseat. Before he turned the corridor corner though, he glanced back. "Nozel, consider what I said. Go see him." William's footsteps tracked away with those parting words, leaving Nozel to contemplate the well-worn suggestion.

Their conversation was convincing enough to persuade Nozel to visit Fuegoleon a few days later.

#black clover #fuegoleon vermillion #nozel silva #fuegoleonxnozel #nozelxfuegoleon #anime #dorothy unsworth #william vangeance #jack the ripper black clover #yami sukehiro #fanfiction

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ace-maverick · 8 months ago

Text

Silver Clouds with Grey Linings (Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion)

Hi y'all! I've been rather inactive in the Black Clover fandom for the past couple of years. You may have known me under my other psueds including Cascade_Azure or Nymph_Nereid, but I am thrilled to present my WIP brainchild of a Nozel Silva x Fuegoleon Vermillion fanfiction. This fanfiction is cross-posted on both Wattpad & AO3 if you prefer to read on either of those sites instead. I personally prefer AO3 because of the filters and shit. Please feel free to leave a like and comment! I'll try to update as frequently as possible!

~Ace_Maverick

Summary:

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

A character study on how two idiots define a fifteen-year, ambigious relationship.

Chapter 1: In Another's Arms

Nozel's head pounded violently as he tried to focus on the mountain of paperwork piled high on his desk. The line of ink he had scribbled on the parchment before him trailed off sloppily, and his vision blurred, then refocused every few minutes.

Solid and Nebra had been particularly irksome the night before. Solid kept pressing the issue of Noelle's squad placement, and Nebra did nothing to quell the argument. Solid had been persistently brash, delivering his opinion about Noelle's admittance to a Magic Knight Squad seven times over, even if it were the lowest-ranking squad. He parroted the same insults that had been spoon-fed to him his entire life — that Noelle's birth was an ill-intentioned mistake, how her magic was subpar, how her mere existence besmirched the Silva family name. Each hurled reiteration of a previous insult drove a metaphorical stake further into Nozel's guilt-ridden heart. He had conditioned his younger brother to respond this way. He had conditioned Nebra to watch as an unresponsive mediator, piping up every few minutes to voice her support of Solid's berating in a sharp-tongued and patronizing manner. He had been the catalyst and curator for their unbridled loathing and scorn of Noelle. He was responsible, and there was no one else to field the blame.

Following his mother's passing and Megicula's curse, he felt an overwhelming weight pressing down on him, a burden that threatened to suffocate him beneath its relentless grip. Nozel's temples throbbed with the memory of his mother's gentle smile, now forever lost to him, and the insidious presence of Megicula's curse coiled like a serpent around his soul, poisoning his every thought and action. The accusations hurled by Solid echoed in his mind, a cacophony of disdain and resentment, an animosity of his own making.

He had not taken too kindly — nor maturely — to Solid's words, bashing his face in when he could no longer endure his brother's slew of insults. The violence had been a release, a momentary escape from the turmoil churning within him. Nozel's knuckles throbbed from where they had collided with Solid's sneering grin. As the adrenaline faded, a subtle sense of remorse settled in his chest as he ushered Nebra to drag her idiotic younger brother to the infirmary, leaving him in his thoughts.

As he continued to brood over his decision, a firm rapping at the door disturbed his anxious thought process. His eyes darted to the analog clock in the corner of his office — quarter to five. Noting the lateness of the hour, Nozel grumbled a tired "enter," his eyes still lazily transfixed on the clock's second hand as it continued ticking away. Familiar, measured footsteps crossed the length of the office before plopping another sizable amount of paperwork onto his desk. Nozel's gaze shifted wearily to the imposing, fiery redhead before him, perking up a bit at his presence.

"These are the recent incident reports involving the Silver Eagles and fund requests to the Silva House accounts," Fuegoleon said, gesturing to the new pile of paperwork atop the Silva's desk. The perkiness Fuegoleon's presence had granted deflated from Nozel's body as he slumped further in his chair.

Fuegoleon took notice. "I thought you ought to be more ecstatic to see me," he commented jokingly.

Nozel spared him a disappointed glance, his eyes glossed over and bored. "And I thought I wouldn't need to deal with any more damn paperwork today," Nozel quipped back, a hint of agitation rising in his voice.

"Do you ever take a break from your Magic Knight duties, Lord Silva?" Fuegoleon asked sarcastically.

"Do you ever take a break from being an insufferable ass, Lord Vermillion?" Nozel returned.

Nozel bristled at the concern poorly veiled as mockery. "I manage my time as I see fit. A luxury afforded to those in command."

Fuegoleon's gaze softened, a hint of compassion breaking through his stern exterior. "You may manage your time, but you're not invincible. The weight of your responsibilities won't lessen if you drive yourself into an early grave."

As Nozel continued to rebuff Fuegoleon's concern with a steely demeanor, the fiery Magic Knight's expression softened even more, his gaze piercing through the layers of pride and duty. With a sigh, Fuegoleon circled the desk, crowding Nozel's space and cornering him in his chair. Nozel instinctively drew back, scrunching as far into the leather as he possibly could, hoping the material would absorb him. Fuegoleon had positioned himself mere inches from Nozel's face, stooping to his eye level, the sharpness of his nose and firmness of his lips defined in the shadows cast through the curtains.

Nozel's eyes flicked to Fuegoleon's lips briefly before redirecting his gaze to meet Fuegoleon's. The intensity of Fuegoleon's stare held Nozel captive, each word spoken with a weight that seemed to anchor Nozel's turbulent thoughts. Despite his instinct to recoil, Nozel found himself unable to look away, drawn in by the sincerity etched into Fuegoleon's features.

Nozel stood breathless for a moment as he continued to study the intensity of Fuegoleon's features, lost in the proximity of his commanding presence. His eyes traced the lines of Fuegoleon's face, lingering on the furrow of his brow and the firm set of his jaw, each detail a testament to the strength and resolve that radiated from him. Nozel's breath hitched as Fuegoleon's presence overwhelmed his senses, the blend of sandalwood, smoky cedar, and spicy cinnamon filling his nostrils and soothing his weary soul.

He was always like this, invading Nozel's space. When they played in the gardens as children and Fuegoleon braided morning glories into his bangs. When Acier first passed and Nozel refused to leave his bed chambers to attend her funeral procession, Fuegoleon had invaded his bedroom afterward, stealing his first kiss and holding him as he wailed like a newborn babe. When Fuegoleon gifted him a sextant after his grimoire ceremony and kissed him under the starlight. When Mereoleona made her hellish visits and forced them to spar, they escaped into the woods and invaded each other's space, making out nude in the lake. That was how Nozel received and gave his first handjob. When he first began courting and he was ushered to gentleman's clubs where the scantily-clad ladies couldn't convince him more of his gayness, Fuegoleon only further confirmed his sexuality by introducing him to gay bars where they would grind and press together in a sea of sweaty bodies, happily drunk and mirthfully smitten. When rumors circled of his prudishness and the new recruits assumed he was still a virgin into his early twenties, he sought out Fuegoleon to thoroughly dick him down. The hickeys littering his neck, collarbones, and sternum, and the scratches traced down his back as he sparred shirtless in the training yard the following day was evidence enough that he indeed was not a virgin. They didn't need to know it wasn't a woman he bedded that night, and he certainly didn't need to come out of the closet yet. And on quiet evenings when their captaincy nor families demanded their attention, they would hike to the peak of the Ultime Volcano Mountain Trail, soaking in the hot springs and bathing underneath a blanket of stars while they idly chatted and exchanged slow, languid kisses among other things. Fuegoleon was always invading Nozel's space, but he wasn't going to protest. Their relationship was one of ambiguous romance where neither pushed for labels and 'I love yous' were never exchanged instead settling for the obscurity of blurred lines. They enjoyed late-night rendezvous and quiet company without the strings of definition, prying society, and the freedom of other partners. Nozel ignored the fact that he had not indulged in another partner in several years. Fuegoleon was a constant in his life, a lodestone in the chaos.

Nozel blinked out of his dumbfounded clarity, clearing his throat and concentrating his gaze to meet Fuegoleon's. "Is there another purpose to your visit, aside from you harassing me about sleep?" Nozel remarked, placing a pointed finger on Fuegoleon's forehead to shoo him out of his space.

Fuegoleon took the hint, retreating in favor of leaning against the desk, arms crossed against his chest. "Now that you mention it..." he trailed off for a minute, thinking of an excuse to keep him in Nozel's company longer. "The Magic Knights Entrance Exam is two weeks away to the date. I have heard whispers that you are planning to have Noelle placed under the Black Bulls. Is that not correct?"

"Fuegoleon..." Nozel releases a heavy, frustrated sigh, "Of all topics of conversation you suggest we discuss, why that one?"

Fuegoleon paused for a moment, his gaze steady on Nozel. "Because I know it weighs heavily on you, Nozel." Nozel rolled his eyes. "Nozel, you know how important this is. Noelle deserves a chance to prove herself, just like Leopold did."

Nozel's shoulders sagged slightly, the tension seeping out. "I would really rather not discuss my siblings right now," he muttered, trailing off for a moment, debating whether he should disclose his argument with Solid from the evening before or not. "Last night... last night, Solid was particularly vexing," Nozel continued, his voice strained. "He kept harping on about Noelle's squad placement. Insult after insult, all the same, venomous drivel he's always spewed. Nebra did nothing to stop him, just chimed in to support his tirades. I couldn't take it anymore. I snapped and punched him. Hard."

Fuegoleon's eyebrows rose slightly, but he remained silent, allowing Nozel to continue.

Nozel sighed, rubbing his temples. "I sent Nebra to drag him to the infirmary. It was a moment of weakness, Fuegoleon. I regret resorting to violence, but..."

Fuegoleon nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I suspected as much when I saw Solid on my way in. He looked like he'd been in a fight, a swollen jaw and black eye. I had my suspicions, but I wasn't expecting this."

Nozel's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "You saw him? I would have expected him to be licking his wounds at House Silva."

"I don't believe he would say anything since his older brother is oh-so intimidating," Fuegoleon said with a smirk, teasing Nozel gently, punctuating his statement with a playful wink. "Besides, I've known you long enough to see when something's bothering you."

Nozel's lips twitched into a reluctant smile. "You always were too perceptive for your own good."

Fuegoleon chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Comes with the territory of being a Magic Knight, I suppose. We're trained to notice the little details."

Fuegoleon's expression turned solemn, his eyes fixating on the back wall opposite Nozel's desk, wary that he would be beating a dead horse by broaching Noelle's maltreatment for the umpteenth time. Yet, he still admired the stubbornness of the man seated next to him.

"In all seriousness, Nozel, don't you think Noelle deserves more credit than House Silva affords her?" Fuegoleon began, his tone earnest. "You see her in the courtyard every day, training to improve her magic control. She may not have been born naturally gifted like you or Solid or Nebra. But don't you believe she deserves a modicum of respect? Don't you think you owe her—as her older brother—an explanation as to why she is overlooked and underestimated?"

Nozel felt the weight of Fuegoleon's words pressing down on him, each one a reminder of the unspoken truth he had long avoided. He wanted to argue, to deflect the conversation elsewhere, but the sincerity in Fuegoleon's eyes made it impossible to dismiss. Instead, he felt a knot of frustration and guilt tighten in his chest, a familiar yet unwelcome sensation that he had grown accustomed to over the years.

"Noelle... she's more resilient than she appears," Nozel began, quieter, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "I see her efforts, Fuegoleon. I see her trying, pushing herself beyond her limits. But it's... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Fuegoleon pressed, not willing to let Nozel off the hook so easily. "Is it because of the guilt you carry about what happened to your mother? Or is it because you're afraid?" he persisted.

Nozel's jaw clenched at Fuegoleon's indignation, a twinge of anger flaring within him. "I'd expect you'd understand Fuegoleon. Leopold is but a year Noelle's senior and a rather new recruit to the Magic Knights himself; yet Leopold's magic is much more refined and developed compared to hers," he deflected hoping to steer the argument away from his mother.

"Because I mentored Leopold," Fuegoleon began, his tone rising to match Nozel's. "Last time I checked, you refused to give Noelle the time of day. If it weren't for the scrutiny that House Silva would endure from Noelle taking the Magic Knights Entrance Exam, then you wouldn't have negotiated with Yami and Julius to place her in the Black Bulls in the first place!" Nozel's eyebrows raised. "Don't think that hasn't been a topic of conversation amongst the other captains," Fuegoleon spat, pointing an accusatory finger in Nozel's direction. "Leopold might be my brother, but I didn't cut corners for him to join the Crimson Lions. He enrolled and took the exam like every other candidate. Perhaps Noelle would have better prospects if you had taken the opportunity to mentor her!" Fuegoleon defended.

Nozel's temples pulsed with frustration, his composure faltering under the weight of Fuegoleon's relentless interrogation. "You act as though it's that simple, Fuegoleon!" he retorted, tinged with exasperation.

"And you act as if it's not!" Fuegoleon yelled, startling the Silva, wheeling his chair back slightly. A moment of definitive, charged silence engulfed the room as their argument reached its zenith. Nozel's heart pounded in his chest, his emotions teetering on the edge as he fought to maintain his composure. With tears beginning to prick the corner of his eyes, he swallowed the lump gathering in his throat and swiped at the beginnings of tears with his sleeves.

"If this is about Acier, Nozel," Fuegoleon started cautiously.

Nozel's breath caught in his throat at the mention of his mother's name, swirling in a tempest of grief and guilt. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to steady his trembling voice before he spoke. "Don't you dare speak her name!" he spat, voice laced with pure venom.

"I will, though!" Fuegoleon persisted, firm and unyielding. "Because I remember," Fuegoleon continued, softening momentarily with empathy before rising again with conviction, "how you wasted away for a year trying to find a cure for her. Because I saw how you reeled after her death. Because I remember holding you all night while you cried, sharing in your grief. Because I was your closest confidant for months and watched as you drowned in the shadow of the man you are today, your laughter replaced by silence, your warmth replaced by ice." Fuegoleon's voice grew colder, mirroring the chill that had enveloped Nozel's once-vibrant spirit. "How you hardened your heart to the world, to your family, to me. How you became more cruel, more calculated, more reserved to protect yourself. You believe your facade of stoicism to be so rock hard, but it isn't. It isn't, Nozel!" Fuegoleon's voice rang out with finality.

Nozel's grip tightened on the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white. Fuegoleon's words cut deep, slicing through the carefully constructed barriers around his heart. Memories flooded back with the intensity of a raging storm, threatening to engulf him entirely.

"I remember how patient Acier was indulging Mereoleona's endless requests for sparring matches," Fuegoleon said, his voice softening with nostalgia, a wistful smile briefly touching his lips. "I remember how she taught me to care for Leopold when he was a babe. I remember visiting House Silva and interrupting your afternoon teas with her. I remember her strong will, her patience, her kindness. And I remember the mourning that came with the passing of what I considered my second mother," Fuegoleon concluded, somber and reverent.

Fuegoleon's eyes bore into Nozel's, searching for a crack in his stoic facade, a sign that his words had reached the man beneath the armor of indifference. The room seemed to shrink around them, the ghosts of the past filling every corner. It seemed as though the silence would stretch on forever before Fuegoleon piped up, "I struggle to understand how you've managed to bury this all so deeply, Nozel. How you have turned so cold, so distant, projecting your scorn onto Noelle who never had the privilege of meeting her own mother."

Nozel's jaw clenched, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed Fuegoleon's words. "Because it isn't!" Nozel's voice cracked slightly, betraying the turmoil raging within him as he pushed himself out of his seat, meeting Fuegoleon a half-pace away. Nozel's eyes flashed with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability, his stance a silent challenge to Fuegoleon.

Fuegoleon was taken aback momentarily, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features before he hardened his resolve once more. "Then, why? Why, Nozel?! We play this constant game of cat and mouse whenever we have this conversation. I chase you for a definitive answer and you dodge with excuses," Fuegoleon accused, his frustration palpable.

"Because I can't!" he exclaimed, exasperated, tears betraying him, trickling down his cheeks. "Because I can't," Nozel repeated, hushed, calmer, trembling. "I want to...but I can't," he managed to sputter out, wiping at the stray tears with his palms in embarrassment.

Fuegoleon's face flashed with concern reaching for Nozel's hand laying limp at his side. Nozel allowed him to grasp it, his fingers trembling slightly within Fuegoleon's gentle hold. For a moment, they simply stayed like that, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air between them.

Fuegoleon's grip on Nozel's hand tightened ever so slightly as if willing his strength to flow into the other man. Without a word, Fuegoleon pulled Nozel into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around him with a tenderness that belied his usual stern demeanor. Nozel stiffened at first, but then he melted into the embrace, his tears flowing freely now, soaking into Fuegoleon's shoulder. Nozel buried his face in the crook of Fuegoleon's neck, his body wracked with the force of his sobs. It was a catharsis of crying, a release long overdue.

Fuegoleon held him tighter, one hand gently cradling the back of Nozel's head, his touch tender and reassuring. He whispered soothing words, his breath warm against Nozel's ear. A symphony of apologies and assurances, each word a balm to Nozel's wounded heart. Slowly, Fuegoleon pulled back just enough to look into Nozel's tear-streaked face. He pressed a delicate kiss to Nozel's forehead, his lips lingering for a moment, imprinting on Nozel.

As Nozel's sobs subsided to whimpers, Fuegoleon leaned in to brush away the residual tears littering Nozel's cheeks. His thumb traced a delicate path over the milky skin, marveling at the graceful contours of Nozel's face, and the slender, willowy frame pressed against his own. Their eyes locked, a volume in the suspended silence, before Fuegoleon leaned in but a feather's length from Nozel's lips. "Can I kiss you?" Fuegoleon breathed.

"Please," Nozel's response was barely more than a breath, the words escaping his lips in a heartfelt plea laden with a yearning. His eyes drifted shut, surrendering as Fuegoleon closed the distance between them in an aching kiss. As Fuegoleon's lips met Nozel's, a shiver coursed through his being. Though the kiss lasted no more than fifteen seconds, time itself had paused to witness, leaving only the two of them to revel in this fleeting moment. Fuegoleon's touch was gentle and fervent, his hands shifting to firmly grasp Nozel's waist and cup his head, pulling him closer. With a soft sigh, he leaned into the kiss, savoring every sensation as Fuegoleon's lips moved against his own with urgency. As they parted, a soft sigh escaped Nozel's lips, his eyes fluttering open to meet Fuegoleon's gaze, breath mingling in the space between them.

"Thank you," Nozel managed, a soft murmur tinged with wonder and disbelief, his eyes glazed over in wanderlust. Fuegoleon chuckled at Nozel's dazed state, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he leaned in to peck him briefly once more, a light, teasing touch that sent a thrill through Nozel's spine.

"Fuegoleon, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" Nozel whispered, barely audible over the lingering din of his mind.

"No," Fuegoleon interjected, gentle but firm. "I'm sorry, Nozel. I shouldn't have brought it up," he persisted.

A brief moment of silence passed. Nozel swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak. "I want to tell you, but I can't—you see the curse, it—," Nozel's voice faltered, realizing his mistake too late.

Megicula's words rung clear as a death knell, menacing, inevitable, and binding.

"If you tell anyone that Megicula had a hand in Acier Silva's death you will die."

"If you talk about it, the one who heard you will also be struck with the curse"

"The spell will spread like a disease."

The devil's putrid laughter reverberated through his skull, a haunting reminder of the warning he had received years ago. A searing pain lanced through Nozel's body, an invisible chain of molten iron choking Nozel's throat. The vice grip sent his heart racing as he wheezed futilely for air. He gasped, clutching at his neck, eyes wide with terror.

"Nozel," Fuegoleon's expression shifted from concern to alarm as he reached out to steady Nozel, panic evident in his eyes as they darted searching Nozel's face.

Nozel collapsed forward, his body crumpling like a marionette with severed strings. "Nozel!" Fuegoleon exclaimed catching him just in time, his heart pounding with fear as he felt the weight of Nozel's body against his own. Nozel's skin was clammy with sweat, turning an ashen blue as he panted for air, the scorching burn of the chain branding itself into his throat's sensitive skin.

Nozel attempted Fuegoleon's name, only rasping breaths managing to escape his lips. Tears welled in Nozel's eyes as he fought against the relentless grip of the curse, Fuegoleon blurring into a crimson haze. Each gasp for air felt like a battle against an invisible force intent on suffocating him. His chest burned with the desperate need for air, his lungs screaming for oxygen that refused to come.

"Nozel, stay with me!" Fuegoleon pleaded, raw and quivering. He gently cradled Nozel's head, his hands shaking as he reached for his grimoire.

But as the seconds ticked by, Nozel's strength waned, his body growing limp in Fuegoleon's arms. The vice grip around his throat tightened further, crushing his windpipe and cutting off his air supply. Nozel's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with the effort to draw in air. Panic surged through Fuegoleon's veins as he watched Nozel's struggles grow weaker.

A dark, twisting chain of magic materialized, snaking its way around Nozel, constricting his movements and burning his skin where it touched. The curse was manifesting, punishing him for attempting to break its silence. Nozel's vision blurred, the world dimming as the pain intensified.

His body went slack, the sound of his name fading into the darkness as everything went black.

Nozel floated, suspended in an abyss of darkness, adrift in a sea of shadows. His consciousness flickered like a dying flame, struggling to maintain its fragile grasp on reality. The oppressive silence was broken only by the malevolent voice of Megicula, reverberating through the void.

"Nozel Silva," the devil's voice echoed in the distance, dripping with malice. "Did you truly think you could defy my curse?"

Nozel tried to move, but his body felt weightless, unresponsive. His mind swirled with fear and confusion as he struggled to comprehend his surroundings. The darkness seemed to press in on him from all sides, suffocating and relentless. His attempts to speak stifled by an invisible force that gripped his throat like icy fingers.

"You should have known better," Megicula continued the amusement in her tone palpable, her voice closer in proximity. "My magic is absolute. There is no escape from it."

Images flashed before Nozel's eyes—memories of his mother's death, the pain and sorrow etched into his family's faces, the burden he had carried alone for so long. The guilt, the helplessness, all of it surged back, drowning him in a tidal wave of despair.

"Consider this a warning, Nozel Silva," Megicula hissed, breath tickling his ear. Nozel whipped his head around to confront the source of the voice, but all he saw was darkness, a formless void that seemed to mock his futile attempts to defy it.

A dim glow beckoned Nozel as he surged awake. The air around him crackled with energy, its warmth seeping into his bones. As he stirred, he became acutely aware of a soreness in his chest, a dull throb that pulsed with each labored breath. He presumed — if Fuegoleon was as smart as he claimed to be — from chest compressions.

His vision swam with tears of relief as the chains dissipated like wisps of smoke fading into the ether, granting him the freedom to move and the liberty to breathe. Blinking through the tears, he registered the faint scent of citrus and honey. Mimosa. Her healing magic bathed him in warm yellow light.

"Oh, thank God." The shrill, distinctive crack of Nebra's voice cut through the air.

The skin on his neck prickled and burned. He reached a trembling hand to touch the irritated flesh, only to have Fuegoleon swat it away. Raw, red, and inflamed, the cursed mark of Megicula choked his throat like a necklace, a tangible warning for daring to defy its curse, even if the offense was as simple as mentioning the word.

Nozel blinked, trying to focus on the faces before him. Fuegoleon was leaning over him, cradling him in his arms. His cheeks were stained with fresh, fat tears, an awkward, pacified smile grazing his lips. Nebra sat furthest away, her features tight with worry, her gaze flicking between Nozel's face and the cursed mark on his neck. Mimosa's eyes brimmed with tears, her hands hovering over him, golden light shimmering as she channeled her healing magic.

Nozel attempted to speak, his words coming out in hoarse, gravelly croaks. "Don't strain yourself," Fuegoleon chastised, his voice a soothing balm to Nozel's ears. They were still in his office. Nozel eyed his sister and cousin, questioning their presence. Fuegoleon took note. "I called Nebra for help, and she summoned Mimosa," he clarified briefly before scooping Nozel into his arms. Usually, he would protest, but his body was too fragile and his throat too damaged to manage.

Mimosa piped up in his stead, "Fuegoleon, he—"

"Mimosa, I extend my gratitude for what you have been able to do." He looked down at Nozel, growing weary in his arms. "But I think we can both acknowledge, Nozel is beyond our help." He grimaced, not intending for his words to sound as harsh as they did.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Mimosa deflate, releasing a defeated sigh and a ho-hum, "Okay."

He started towards the door, then paused for a moment, sparing Nebra and Mimosa a knowing glance over his shoulder. "I trust neither of you will breathe a word of this," he said, eyes narrowing.

Mimosa and Nebra shared a brief glance, nodding in agreement.

"Good," Fuegoleon said curtly, a heavy thud sounding as the door shut behind him.

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