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idyllic-affections · 7 months

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achilles heel ii.

summary. love is a sin. the regrator is a sinner.

trigger & content warnings. threats of physical violence, nightmares.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. found family (moreso than the first post), fluff, slight angst. pantalone & young teen!reader, slight arlecchino & young teen!reader. 2.6k words. they/them pronouns used for [name]. this fic is divided into six drabble-like sections. this fic is the second part of achilles heel; please read the first post before reading this one.

author's thoughts. teehee pantalone....... he is never dad-ified enough i swear. he has so much dad potential. look at him. silly rich guy (<- he is a criminal and is NOT silly).

i. a slip of the tongue ♡

Their enrollment into the House of Hearth came with two specific conditions:

One, Arlecchino would not have ultimate authority over them. They didn't disrespect her regardless, but Pantalone was insistent that her authority should not exceed his over them. He was their caretaker, after all. They were a special case in the Knave's orphanage—an orphan but not quite an orphan.

Two, that they returned to his residence on weekends, which wasn't something they or Arlecchino has any qualms with. She didn't exactly get along with the Ninth, but oddly, she didn't argue either of his conditions.

(They felt immeasurably guilty, however, that they had a home to return to. That was a privilege unique to them. The orphans of the House of Hearth did not have such a luxury; hell, those children could not even dream of a home outside of the orphanage.)

This was one such weekend. Upon returning home, they let themselves into Pantalone's office—of course, not before ensuring he was not occupied with another Harbinger or other business partners of his. Had he been, they would have only entered once he was done.

"I'm back, Father."

...

Immediate terror stuck their chest. Admittedly, their reaction once they processed what had just come out of their mouth was a bit dramatic, but still! Had Arlecchino's children somehow rubbed off on them? All of her children tended to call her 'Father', but they only ever called her by her name...

The Regrator paused what he was doing, wordlessly setting his pen down.

"...Sorry, dear, could you repeat that? I didn't quite hear you."

"Um. I said I'm back."

"After that."

"..."

"[Name]."

"I didn't say anything after, I swear." They were completely flustered now, hand shyly fidgeting with the strands of hair securely held back by what had once been Arlecchino's hair clip while their gaze settled anywhere that wasn't on the Harbinger. "I didn't..."

"You are a terrible liar."

"I'm— I'm not."

He smiled at that, gingerly shedding his gloves and rings.

He thought it was a bit cruel of him to create any kind of distance between himself and the little thief he brought into his home, especially in what was such an important and vulnerable moment.

It was then that he beckoned them closer. They obliged, albeit hesitantly. His hands gently smoothed down some wild strands of their hair—presumably caused by whatever the Knave had put them through that day. His tenderness seemed to calm them down a little bit.

"Do you see me as a father figure, [Name]?"

They pouted. "I don't know. Maybe. It just came out. I didn't think about it. Sorry."

If Pantalone was any more morally correct, he might worry about who they were looking up to, but...

Their immorality was inevitable, really, so he tried not to concern himself with it too much. It was the one consequence associated with taking them in. It was one that simply couldn't be avoided.

Pantalone had come to terms with that fact some time ago.

"Don't apologize. I don't mind if that is the case."

"...Okay."

He held himself together with skillful grace that was only to be expected of someone like him, but the second they left his office, he slammed his head on his desk, resisting the compelling urge to just sob.

(...He was probably the reason they had become a tad dramatic.)

Oh.

That day, the Ninth learned two things:

One, [Name] had adopted a more formal method of speech, which was good. It would be useful in the future. His lower priority business partners, the general nobility of Snezhnaya and other nations... those people would all expect his child to take on a more refined demeanor. It was good that they already were.

Two, which was objectively more important in his mind (because really, he did not care for the opinions of people who had never struggled a single day in their lives), he had unexpectedly become an actual father. Not just a caretaker, but a father.

Oh, fuck.

ii. third time's a charm ♡

"Can I keep him?"

"Absolutely not."

"Please? Come on. He won't cause any trouble!"

Pantalone pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, sighing deeply. How could he have possibly gotten himself into this situation a second time? Perhaps he really was spoiling them just a bit too much. "[Name]. You cannot continue bringing wild animals into our home."

They pouted, holding up the little feline in their arms. It may have been small and harmless at the moment, but a snow leopard such as the one they snatched up from the streets would surely grow impossibly bigger, provided enough time and proper nutrition. "Father..."

He shot them an annoyed look. They could only smile innocently.

"Don't 'Father' me, [Name]."

"I've taken good care of Winter thus far!" Said fox chirped upon hearing her name. "Look, see—she's perfectly healthy. I can handle another pet!"

"You named her Winter?"

They shrugged. "It's always winter in Snezhnaya, so..."

He couldn't help but chuckle fondly, teasing, "Clever."

"I doubt you would have came up with a better name, Father," they huffed playfully. "Anyways, come on! Look, how can you say no to a little face like this?"

Neither of the two said anything for a moment. [Name] held up the little squirming cat with one hand, supporting its hind legs with the other.

It was clear to Pantalone that they would not budge.

A deep sigh left his lips.

They knew they had won.

Once again, Pantalone welcomed another unexpected guest into his household.

He could unflinchingly deny Il Dottore further funding for his experiments. He could ruthlessly send out the agents employed under his command to collect the debts of those foolish enough to leave them unpaid without so much as a second thought.

Somehow, he could not deny his child another exotic animal.

Oh well. At least the feline would eventually grow into a suitable bodyguard for [Name], he supposed.

iii. ultimatum ♡

Whenever Pantalone had free time during the work week—which... wasn't very often—he had grown into a habit of visiting the House of Hearth.

His darling child was there. How could he be expected to stay away?

(The Knave grit her teeth, clenched her jaw, and ultimately bit her tongue when he kept showing his face in her territory again and again. As much as she didn't like the Ninth... she would have to tolerate it, she supposed. He was too preoccupied with [Name] to bother her the majority of the time, anyway.)

The children were all polite and respectful with him whenever he came around, often pointing him in the direction of their sibling-in-arms. They were typically lingering around the younger children, engaging with them and entertaining them in a way that a doting older sibling might, but for some reason...

They weren't there that day.

"One of the matrons wanted to talk to [Name], sir. I don't know why," one of the younger children his child typically surrounded themselves with had told him.

He was surprised to find that, rather than wanting to speak to [Name], one of Arlecchino's employees seemed to have forgotten just whose child it was she was speaking to.

"We are raising soldiers," a woman harshly spat, "not regular children. It would be in your best interests, Mx. [Name], to quit teaching them to be soft."

They blinked.

"...Um. They're five."

"Are you even listening?!"

"Listen," they began, shifting their weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "They're barely five, okay? They'll learn. They can't even wield a sword properly yet. Half of them can't read mid-level literature yet. For now, I think they deserve attention from someone they can trust who won't hurt them. I mean... if I were really doing something wrong, Arle surely would have told me—"

"You rich little brat."

That stung, admittedly. With nervous fingers, they plucked at the threads of their sleeve.

"By the Tsaritsa, if the Ninth himself weren't so enamored with you, I would have your head mounted on the wall for the disrespect you have shown not only us but our Lord."

She raised a hand, and they flinched back, and then—

Nothing came.

"Fa— Father... hi."

The Regrator's grip on her wrist was crushing, rage barely concealed behind a tight-lipped smile.

"Hello, dear." Pantalone's eyes were kind when they were on his child, but glazed over with an unsettling iciness upon facing the woman. He leaned down, head tilting slightly as he observed the tense matron who so boldly dared to raise a hand to his child. "Now, I'm certain this was a one-time incident, unless of course you would be interested in taking a... leave of absence to see the Doctor, hm?" His grip tightened slightly in a wordless threat, a promise of a fate more vile than death itself. "A permanent leave of absence, that is."

Tension weighed heavily in the air.

Of course, the matron relented. She would have been foolish to not when the fate promised to her would be undoubtedly worse than death.

"...No, of course not, sir. It won't happen again."

He released her trembling wrist, adjusting his rings nonchalantly.

"Good. Go on, then. Leave us."

"Yes, Lord Ninth."

She turned on her heel, bowing her head respectfully to both the Regrator and his child before rounding the corner of the hall. Just like that, she was gone.

Instantly, all his attention shifted to [Name].

"Are you alright?" he murmured softly, only for their ears to hear. He kneeled down to their level and gingerly tilted their chin upwards to check if Arlecchino's matron left any wounds behind.

"Yeah, I'm— I'm fine..."

He was quiet for a moment, thumb gently rubbing along their cheekbone and wiping away the beginnings of tears. The Knave would not like to see them in such a state. The Ninth didn't particularly care for her opinion, but he knew very well that his child did, to a certain degree.

"...Don't cry, dear. Do not allow yourself to be pushed around. You are worth infinitely more than any agent among our ranks. Do you understand?"

"Mm-hm. I'm just..." They gnawed on the corner of their lip. "I guess I'm used to it."

He was quiet for a moment.

"That will change," he concluded. "You will never be treated so poorly ever again."

iv. bonding ♡

"Were you never given the opportunity to bake?"

They hummed thoughtfully, lips pulled into a calm and content smile as they observed their father knead the bread dough they took part in making.

Indeed, a man as prestigious as him could just have one of his employees do this... but what kind of parent would he be if he refused to bond with his child alone? No genuine bonding would take place if he was not the one engaging with them.

...

Baking also happened to a special place in his heart as a child of poverty, so he didn't mind doing it.

"Not really. I couldn't afford to. It was too expensive," they mused, trailing off briefly. Pantalone was quiet—patient. He didn't interrupt them or urge them to speak. He simply waited for them to go on. "I didn't get paid well when I was taking thievery commissions. I was small and weak, so it was easy for those older people who commissioned my work to scam me out of what I was owed."

The Regrator made a mental note to investigate those people further.

For now, though, his focus was on them.

"I understand," he reassured. "Baking is indeed an expensive hobby. There was a time where even I could not afford it."

"I really wouldn't have believed you if you hadn't told me," they said, stealing and snacking on some of the fruits spread across the counter. The Harbinger chuckled fondly, pinching their cheek.

"Stop that. If you keep that up, we won't have anything to put in the bread. Now, for the next step..."

v. nightmare ♡

It was the middle of the night when they jolted awake, skin dampened with a cold sweat and fingers relentlessly shaking.

The House of Hearth's hardwood floor was cold against their bare feet, but it really didn't bother them. It wasn't anything they weren't used to, anything` they hadn't experienced in their past. It was with quiet and purposeful steps that they snuck out of the room they shared with a handful of the younger kids that bonded closely with them.

Their years of thievery still benefitted them, it seemed, as they effortlessly snuck out without awakening anyone else.

"What are you doing up at such an awful hour?"

They practically leapt out of their skin, heart hammering in their chest at Arlecchino's sudden appearance.

"I, uh—" they began, taking deep breaths in the hopes of calming themselves down. "Um, sorry. You frightened me."

"Oh? My apologies, then, [Name]."

Whether or not her apology was sincere was debatable. She seemed to derive very slight amusement from their fright, but gave them a firm pat on the head. It was comforting in its own way.

"...I had a nightmare," they reluctantly admitted, "so I can't really sleep. Sorry."

"It isn't uncommon for these things to happen," she replied. "Your apology is unwarranted. You aren't the first and I doubt you will be the last to be unable to sleep."

"Arle, um... I know I'm not supposed to leave again until tomorrow, but..."

Arlecchino's eyes were trained precisely on them, and perhaps she might have looked irritated, but in reality, she could not find it within her to be frustrated. They were strong and smart and excelled in the things that they needed to excel in. There was no reason for her to be frustrated with them for something so simple. It was normal for children to seek out their parent following a distressing experience.

"I will take you back to the Regrator's residence, then. Consider it a reward for your high performance this week."

"Ah, really? Thank you, Arle."

"Go get your things. Meet me outside."

vi. found family ♡

"You're home early, [Name]."

When they entered Pantalone's office (he lamented the fact that he was still working at such a late hour, but such was unfortunately his obligation as a Harbinger), he was pleasantly surprised, quietly setting down his pen and offering them his full attention.

"I know." They nodded. "Arle said I performed well this week, so she brought me home a day early. I guess she probably had something to do elsewhere anyway, since she offered."

"I see."

A silence settled for a moment.

The Ninth instantly knew something was wrong when their fingers reached up to their sleeve, absently picking and pulling at the threads. He'd noticed that habit of theirs back when he first put them in the public eye.

"If there is something troubling you, dear, you are more than welcome to tell me."

"It's stupid," they murmured, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. Maybe they should have just stayed back at the House of Hearth.

"If it's bothering you, it is most definitely not."

"I had a nightmare."

"Ah, I see. Is that why you've come home so late?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want to stay with me for the time being, then?" When they nodded, he smiled kindly, opening one arm for them so that the other could be free to finish what remained of his paperwork.

They were secured in his arms the second he made his wordless offer.

His fingers tenderly carded through their hair, mindful to avoid his rings catching uncomfortably on their locks.

Love is a sin.

In Snezhnaya, love is a sin.

For his child, Pantalone was a sinner.

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