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theshatteredrose · 6 months

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Secrets: Best Left Untold? (Chapter 13) - Etrian Odyssey Untold 2 Fanfiction

AN: Sorry about the wait! I’ve been under a bit of stress lately, as you can imagine. I also have an appointment with my neurologist tomorrow, which I’m not really looking forward to T_T Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading!

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Chapter 13:

It took quite some time to calm down from the strange incident in, rather outside the tearoom. A lot of questions were asked, especially about the man’s description. Flavio gave the best answers he could, knowing full well how protective Fafnir could be.

He, of course, did not mention the little fact that the man might be responsible for the flowers or notes he had secretly been receiving. It was not the best time to have that little discussion. Not on the eve of the such an important social event. Truthfully, he was not sure how to bring that up to Fafnir. Wait until the stress he was under eases, that much was sure.

How ever long that could take.

That man had to be responsible for the flowers. Or notes. He had to be. He…could not NOT be, right?

He…did not want consider anything otherwise.

Hana was not happy about the broken window. Of course, she did not blame any of them, but she was displeased nevertheless. It was going to cost her money to fix or replace it, and it was something that needed to be done due to the cold weather.

Normally, Flavio and the others would immediately offer to help, seeing the issue dealt with immediately, but they had to get ready for the dinner.

Fafnir and Bertrand both wanted to find the knife wielding voyeur, but Hana reassured them that she would rouse the interest and protectiveness of other explorers that were residing within the inn. A smart move, honestly. A lot of guild leaders or just explorers in general were very protective of their guildmates, so they were sure to be cautious.

That reassured Fafnir somewhat, so it allowed everyone to take their outfit for the night and make their way to their rooms.

Flavio stepped into his room and instinctively locked the door behind him. He laid the large brown paper parcel holding his new clothes onto the bed. As he peeled back the paper, the clothing was revealed to him. The material was soft, and well-made, and appeared to be a deep midnight blue in colour.

Hm, a jacket, vest, white shirt, pants, a tie, a black belt, and a pair of dress shoes. Oh, and a warm winter jacket! He thought the parcel was heavy. But the jacket was very much appreciated.

As Flavio started to get change, he grew worried that Grisandole had altered his suit a little too closely, overestimating her own assessments. But as he slipped the clothes on, he breathed a sigh of relief when they fitted him perfectly.

Flavio spent a moment or two inspecting himself in the mirror, ensuring that everything was presentable. He did not look too bad, honestly. He was worried that the midnight blue colour would stand out too much, he preferring black to blend in with the others. But it should be fine.

He, however, could not help but frown slightly, noting how tight a cut the alterations were. And yet, he still had room to move. Had he always had such a narrow waist?

…Maybe he was a little bit on the skinny side.

The stress of the last week did not help in the slightest.

Flavio uttered a sigh as he grabbed the winter coat and slipped it on. At least the week of festivities was to end tonight, so he could begin to relax at the restaurant once more and not be rushed off his feet. Huh, now that he thought about it, when he was working, he kinda skipped out on lunch.

Whoops.

A sharp knock at his door pulled him from his musings and he quickly reached over to unlatch the lock, knowing full well that the person on the other side was none other than Fafnir.

Pulling back the door, Flavio’s breath immediately caught in his throat.

Fafnir stood out in the hallway, dressed in his tux, his white hair pulled back from his vivid red eyes. He had a hip cocked to one side as he pulled on a set of leather gloves. The black suit, made of a silky, durable material folded over each curve and muscle of his well-built body. The clothing accentuated his subtle but powerful muscles, but did not appear to hinder his movements.

He…was more handsome than Flavio had anticipated.

It took his breath away.

Fafnir finished fussing with his leather gloves and turned his attention toward Flavio. And his own eyes widened, his lips parting ever so slightly.

Flavio knew that he was blushing; he could feel the heat on his cheeks. No such thing adorned Fafnir’s face. No, the expression that appeared on Fafnir’s face was different. Yet it was similar to the one he wore back at Grisandole’s shop.

He…

Fafnir suddenly moved forward, his hands slipping beneath Flavio’s coat to rest against his sides. Flavio instinctively placed his hands on Fafnir’s arms as he stumbled backwards, his body colliding with Fafnir’s as he continued to move forward and pushed him back into his room.

Flavio stared at him; Fafnir’s eyes far more striking than they had ever been before. Dark, smouldering with an emotion he had not seen from him before.

He…?

Unexpectedly, Fafnir knitted his eyebrows together as he suddenly curled his fingers around Flavio’s waist. “Have you lost weight?”

Flavio squirmed under his hands as he tried to push them away. “Don’t you start.”

“I’m serious,” Fafnir continued, pressing his hands firmly against his sides. “You’ve always been thin, but you’ve definitely lost weight.”

Flavio sighed. Fafnir was not going to let it go. Nor was he going to be happy. “The last week has been very busy.”

“You haven’t been eating?” An accusation.

“I have.” An indignation. Before Flavio smiled sheepishly. “Just not lunch some days.”

Fafnir narrowed his eyes in disapproval.

Flavio raised his hands in a pacifying manner, while Fafnir’s own stayed firmly against his sides. “Hey hey, week of celebrations are over after tonight. I can go back to a normal routine. In fact, I think we can indulge a bit because of Christmas celebrations. What do you think?”

Fafnir leaned his face forward, so they were nose and nose. “Fine. This way I can ensure you eat something. Something more than curry.”

“There’s nothing wrong with curry.”

“There’s nothing wrong with eating, period.”

“I eat!”

“Hey, you two.”

Bertrand’s voice startled both Flavio and Fafnir. The door to his room was still open, allowing for the blond-haired protector to peer into the room with an arched eyebrow. Fafnir pulled his hands back, his fingertips trailing against Flavio’s sides, leaving him shivering and feeling inexplicably cold.

Flavio tried his best to ignore the feeling as he and Fafnir stepped out into the hallway to join their teammate. Idly pressing down his clothing, Flavio spent a moment taking in the sight of Bertrand in his own tuxedo.

In all honesty, he had expected to find the old man rather awkward in such social wear, with his slouchy posture and such. But it seemed he knew, or perhaps remembered how to pull that weary body of his into the best posture to carry a dark blue tux.

“You scrub up well, old man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bertrand replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Been a few years, but I remember my Ps and Qs. I hope the two of you are prepared to be bored out of your minds.”

Well, that was ominous.

Fafnir fidgeted with his tie. “Are we ready?”

“Just got to wait for the girls,” Bertrand replied and a wryly smile appeared on his lips. “Might have enough time to head to a bar for a drink or two.”

However, just as those words left his lips, the door to Arianna’s room opened. And Arianna swept into the hallway, her hands sophisticatedly holding the skirt of her dress.

In spite of himself, despite knowing just how wrong it was, despite knowing that the two of them were not rivals, were not competitors in any sense of the word, Flavio felt his heart drop when his gaze fell on Arianna.

A dress of rose petal pink, a delicate but warm white shawl to keep the winter wind at bay, her hair adorned with silver and gold accessories.

Elegant and beautiful. A true princess.

“Oh, sir Fafnir!” Arianna beamed and clapped her hands together in front of her, a delicate blush adorning her cheeks. “You look just like a gentleman!”

Fafnir had told him, reassured him several times that Arianna was like a sister to him, and Flavio believed him. But…there was always a chance that could change. Feelings changed all the time, after all.

Sometimes all it took was one conversation.

Or one dance.

“Is Chloe ready?” Bertrand asked.

“Oh yes,” Arianna answered. “We decided to get ready together.” She turned back to her room. “Dame Chloe, everyone is ready.”

Chloe shyly stepped out of Arianna’s room, her hands grasping handfuls of her dress in an anxious manner. Her pink hair, down around her shoulders in waves, was adorned with delicate flowers.

Yellow was a bold colour, but it suited Chloe very well. And melded well with her pink hair. Grisandole certainly knew what she was doing.

“Do I look ok?” Chloe asked bashfully.

“You look beautiful,” Bertrand replied in a fatherly tone, which earned him a blush from the young girl.

“Yes,” Arianna smiled fondly at the young girl. “Just like a Lady-In-Waiting.”

“Are we ready to go?” Fafnir asked.

After he received a chorus of affirmations, Fafnir led the way downstairs. They spent a few moments allowing Hana to fuss over them, acting like the mother figure she truly was. She could not help but focus on Chloe, though, which was only natural. Being close to the same age as her own daughter and with pink hair of her own, there was little doubt that she was envisioning Quinoa being all dressed up and going to a ball.

Outside, a carriage awaited them.

Arianna immediately slipped her arm through Fafnir’s, looking much like the princess and her loyal knight.

Flavio swallowed back a bile of jealousy at the sight. It was only natural. A princess and her knight should stand together. It would draw attention, and perhaps even the ire, of the gentry if they did not.

Right?

It was going to be a long and anxious night.

Steeling himself, Flavio followed everyone as they headed outside and entered their awaiting carriage. As they settled themselves in their seats, Arianna took the time to explain to them the briefs ins and outs of a society dinner.

There…were a lot of rules, but she stated them so fluently. It should not be a surprise. They were, no doubt, drilled into her since birth.

Bertrand accepted the rules, while Fafnir had his nose scrunched up in a sign of disgust. Flavio had to bite back a chuckle. He had better stay on his toes. Fafnir had developed a great dislike toward authority figures and being confined to a very restrictive set of rules. He would not take too kindly to someone chiding him.

The Grand Duchy was far different during the night than it was during the day. That was to be expected, however, with the decorations having been raised in honour of Lady Gadriel’s birthday. The bright, golden lights of lanterns and chandeliers bathed the grand building in an almost ethereal glow.

The excitement, and Flavio’s anxiety, grew as their carriage joined the long line of others on the main road leading into the main hall, where the party was to be held.

Finally, it was their time to step out. Fafnir was the first to slip out and presented their invitation to the attendant. Thankfully, there did not appear to be any issues as the received an immediate welcome.

Fafnir helped Arianna from the carriage while Bertrand helped Chloe. While Flavio hopped out last.

It was naturally that the four would pair up like that. Father figure Bertrand to Chloe and Fafnir for Arianna because he was, after all, her knight. It still made Flavio feel as though he was the fifth wheel out of the group, as it were. The one who was out of place.

Yet, as they moved to join the throngs of other guests, Fafnir purposely turned from Arianna and pressed his hand against the small of Flavio’s back and guided him to join their little group. Ensuring that he joined them and was not left out. As if he had, somehow, read his thoughts and wanted to prove him wrong.

Hm. Or, perhaps, he simply sensed his anxiety.

As the stepped into the large, grand ballroom, Flavio was grateful for the reassuring hand against his back. There were a lot of people. All of the gentry, if he hazard a guess.

Yikes.

The night was quite cold, so Flavio chose to keep on his winter coat. Many others chose to do so, from the look of things. And wisely, both Arianna and Chloe chose to keep their shawls close. With their dresses, as cumbersome as they were, he did not imagine they offered too much warmth.

“Oh, I am ever so glad that you were able to attend.”

The regal and feminine voice immediately drew their attention. From the crowds of now whispering and staring quests, Lady Gadriel and Minster Dubois made their appearance. And soon joined them.

“But of course,” Arianna responded. “We could never miss an opportunity to join you in celebration of your birthday.”

Lady Gadriel laughed softly. “You say such kind words.”

They left it to two ladies to do most of the speaking. They clearly got along far greater than anyone else. Until…

“Excuse me, my lady, we have other guests that require your attention,” Minister Dubois stated.

Lady Gadriel smiled politely, though it was somewhat…strained. Tired even.

She had endured a week of greetings and congratulations. Anyone, princess or duchess, was sure to be tired of the continuous meets and greets. And Lady Gadriel was sure to rather be in her library, researching, than meeting with people she barely knew. Or possibly even liked.

Being a noble or royal was not all it was cracked up to be.

“You have to excuse us,” Lady Gadriel said. “I do hope you enjoy yourselves.”

The two then disappeared within the crowds once more.

It was a shame that the very reason for such a grand party could not actually sit down and enjoy herself. Were all social events the same? Seemed incredibly stressful.

“Oh, Sir Fafnir, your tie is crooked.” Arianna pushed forward and began to straighten and tighten Fafnir’s tie and smoothing down the collar of his jacket.

Fafnir did not look remotely comfortable or pleased. That suit, the situation, the rules of high society – it was just all too restrictive for him.

Luckily it was just for one night.

“Sir Fafnir, as my knight, such events are a part of my everyday life,” Arianna continued. “It is perhaps best you become accustomed to wearing such clothing.”

Flavio hands balled into fists abruptly by his sides. But Fafnir was only to be a knight until they were done with Ginnungagap, right?

Right?

“Why don’t we check out the finger food?” Bertrand suddenly suggested, his arms folded loosely across his chest. “I wouldn’t mind a drink or two. Something to get me through the next few hours.”

Arianna immediately hooked her arm through Fafnir’s once more. “Yes, allow me to show you the proper way to attend to the antipasti, Sir Fafnir.”

She then dragged him off, leaving no room for argument. Bertrand turned to guided Chloe to the same. And Flavio was left to his own devices. Again.

Probably for the best. Maybe he could find a corner to hide in for a while. Until the night was over with.

As he walked through the gatherings of guests and party-goers, Flavio could not help but pick up random pieces of their conversations.

“That is Princess Arianna’s knight? Hardly suitable.”

“A man like that will be tough to tame.”

“Yes, but he’ll be broken in eventually.”

“Indeed. They all are.”

Flavio had to resist the urge to spin around in search for those who uttered those words. They sounded so haughty and ominous. And degrading! They could not possibly be serious!

A hand suddenly grasped his and Flavio found himself pulled to his left abruptly. He almost tripped over his own feet, yet miraculously managed to stay standing. His whole body tensed as he instinctively looked at whoever it was that had snared his hand in a tight, yet not painful grip.

A pair of distinct emerald green eyes stared back at him.

Mandelson.

Flavio…should not be shocked to see him. Mandelson was a Viscount. He would be invited to such a prestigious event. But he stared back at him in shock, nevertheless.

A polite, yet wry smile slipped across Mandelson’s lips, amused by Flavio’s reaction to him. He tightened his grip on his hand and raised it between them. “Dark colours truly suit you.”

He then did something wholly unexpected; he leaned down and pressed his lips against Flavio’s knuckles, effectively kissing the back of his hand.

In spite of himself, Flavio blushed. It was not the first time the man kissed the back of his hand, but did he really just do that at a social event? In front of who knows how many people from the gentry?!

Who saw that?

“I had a feeling that you and your guild would be invited,” Mandelson stated. “You are, after all, the Grand Duchy’s pet guild.”

A frown immediately tugged at Flavio’s lips and he sharply pulled his hand back. “I resent being referred to as ‘pet guild,’ I’ll have you know.”

Mandelson arched an all too amused eyebrow at him. “Resent it as much as you like, but what other title could be given to a guild that has been all but gifted to the granddaughter of the Minster and guests of honour by Lady Gadriel herself?”

Wait, guests of honour? Yikes, more pressure added to the evening, thanks!

“Regardless, we worked hard both in and outside the labyrinth,” Flavio continued, trying to remain firm. “And the restaurant is doing just fine, and will with or without our name attached to it.”

Mandelson almost snorted, which would be wholly undignified, but caught himself at the last second. “So, her earnings are enough to sustain herself?”

“Well, no…”

“Ah,” Mandelson unexpectedly smirked, as if he had scored a point somehow. “So, she’s taking money from your guild to fuel her own ambitions while making you gather all the ingredients, handle the advertising, and public relations?”

…Damn it. Scoring points against Regina, was he? What did he have against her? Did he know her personally or something?

“Do you have a grudge against the Dubois family?” Flavio asked before he had the chance to reconsider.

It was a legitimate question because, sheesh, he held a grudge against someone.

Mandelson tilted his head curiously to the side. “I hold no concerns what that family does.”

“Then why-?”

“I know what families like them are capable of,” Mandelson interrupted, his eyes unexpectedly darkening and his jaw tightening. “Using people as tools, pretending to care to keep the public appearance of benevolence, while repeating the same mistakes. Repeatedly. I have seen it far too much. It is playing on repeat in front of me. With you.”

Flavio fell silent as he looked at the other man, his own curiosity peaking. He had seen that expression, heard words similar to those back at the restaurant only a few days ago.

Anger. Protectiveness. Pain. Frustration.

Something similar had happened to him or someone he loved in the past. Perhaps that someone was his wife. The very one he had lost only recently. Just six months ago. And it was something he did not want to happen again.

He did not want to happen to Flavio.

And that reason? It was all because Flavio looked like his deceased wife.

Flavio must truly looked remarkably like her. But he was not her. As endearing as his protectiveness might be, he was not Mandelson’s wife. He was never to be her replacement. And he was not being used and abused, like he believed or feared. The week of celebrations was over. He could return to his life of an explorer.

His life was nothing like Mandelson was presenting it to be.

“Master Mandelson,” a new voice interjected. “You have matters to attend to.”

Mandelson’s eyes narrowed slightly as they darted quickly to his right and a frown fleetingly appeared on his lips. His expression swiftly smoothed out into one of professionalism as a man, one with salt and pepper hair pulled back into a ponytail held at the back of his neck, a monocle nestled in his left eye, and dressed in duds that were like that of a butler, joined them.

The man, clearly older by a few decades, looked impassively over at Flavio. His eyes wandered over him, lazily looking him up and down. Clearly unimpressed. Or his face habitually stoic. Either way, he simply turned his attention back to Mandelson.

“This way, My Lord.”

“Yes, yes.” Mandelson sighed, annoyed with the other man. But he managed to smile toward nevertheless. “Until we will meet again, Mr Flavio. Perhaps we will share a dance later tonight, hm?”

Flavio felt himself wince. “Perhaps not. Fafnir is protective of me. He’ll make a scene. We do not want this.”

Mandelson did not look pleased. “…Very well.”

He hoped that meant Mandelson would not pursue him anymore that night. “Thank you. Have a good evening.”

Flavio turned on his heel, intent on walking away. Only, Mandelson was not finished speaking with him.

“You are Fafnir’s loyal companion, but that is all you can ever be. With a princess in the picture, no one will allow otherwise. You must accept that. For your own sake.”

What…?

He spun around, not sure why, perhaps wanting to demand what he meant. The words were bait. They had to be. Mandelson and his companion, however, had blended in with the rest of guests of the dinner party. Nowhere to be seen.

Just as he had intended, no doubt.

Mandelson was…a very strange man. He claimed to be protective, but his words…they seemed intend to bring thoughts of indecisiveness and pessimism. To cast doubt upon his choices, and upon the motives of his companions.

He…

“There you are.”

Flavio jumped, startled by Fafnir’s voice. He turned around, half expecting to find him with the rest of their companions. Yet, he stood alone. And did not appear all that happy.

He…did not see him with Mandelson, did he?

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