It wasn’t entirely his fault. She was slated to be sold anyway. She would have been leaving the compound no matter what he did and, had he not been the one to do it, she would have ended up somewhere a heck of a lot worse. But he wasn’t foolish enough to think that his interpretation that he was actually doing her a favor would pass off to her. Blame, though, wasn’t what this was about.

“They were my only family,” she provided at last, her voice low. “I’ve never been without them. Especially not…today…Not on Concordia.”

Fiearius watched her for a moment, unsure of what to say. He had yet to figure out how to reconcile the kinds of pains his poor adopted woman had lurking in her bones. He’d never been very good at that anyway, even with problems and situations he could entirely understand. He certainly couldn’t manage it with hers. He was lost for words. But someone else wasn’t.

“It’s my first Concordia without my family too.” Both Fiearius and the girl turned to the doorway where Cyrus stood, looking somber. He paused a beat before stepping further into the room towards them. “I’ve never not spent Concordia morning watching that stupid parade with my mum. Until now. And I miss her. And dad. And all the relatives. Crazy as they are. I miss the house. I miss the decorations. I miss sitting on the porch to watch the candle lighting. I miss that ugly tree dad planted in the front yard because his sister gave it to him as a gift one year. I miss all of it.”

Cyrus stopped by the table and looked down at the girl sitting there. “So I understand. What it’s like to be someplace totally new and away from home. With people you don’t really know.” His eyes flashed quickly and indicatively over to his brother. “It sucks. But..you know, we’re all in the same boat. And isn’t that what Concordia’s about anyway?”

“Being stuck on a spaceship?” Fiearius suggested.

“Sort of,” Cyrus admitted with a shrug. “I mean, they were all stuck on the Ark together, right? Didn’t really know much about each other. But they overcame. They learned to get along despite their differences and they made it work. Made new traditions for the new circumstances.”

“That’s….not really what it’s about,” the girl remarked thoughtfully.

“Well it’s close enough,” Fiearius supplied.

“No…she’s right,” Cyrus admitted with a sheepish smile. “That’s not really what it’s about at all actually.”

“Fine.” Fiearius rolled his eyes impatiently. “Then let’s just pretend, alright? Cuz we could all learn a bit outta that. The ‘working together’ thing is clear, we got that. After this many years, yes, I know. I get it. Work together. What we need now is something more like what you said.” He gestured to Cyrus and then looked back and forth between the two of them.

“These are new circumstances. For all of us. And they’re not ideal. I know we’d all rather be somewhere else right now, but we’re not and there’s nothing for it. So I suggest we make the best of  what we’ve got.”

“Celebrate anyway,” Cyrus offered.

“Celebrate anyway,” Fiearius agreed. “We may not be ‘our family’ but we can be ‘a family’ of some sort. Okay, maybe not a family in the strictest sense. But…a tribe perhaps. Or. Something like that. What better way of forming something than being stuck on a spaceship together?”

“We can start new traditions,” Cyrus suggested. “Like…reading a passage from a book before dinner?”

“That’s a stupid tradition,” Fiearius told him shortly. “We should…eat without silverware.”

“You’re disgusting,” his little brother groaned.

“No I’m not, it’s natural,” Fiearius argued.

“It’s not natural, it’s–”

“We should tell stories,” the girl put in suddenly. Both brothers stopped their argument to look down at her. Suddenly embarrassed, she turned red and looked away. “I mean…it’s something we did back home. Telling stories after the feast. But instead of myths and legends and stuff they should be…about us?” When neither Fiearius or Cyrus answered immediately, but instead fell into a quiet ponderous silence, she hurried on in explanation. “I mean, the spirit of Concordia is to unite, to work together. It is, well…like you said…becoming a family. And if we’re gonna ever even have a chance to do that…we should probably know each other better.” She looked back up at them cautiously. “Right?”

Fiearius watched her for another long moment before meeting eyes with Cyrus who was staring back at him with the same thoughtful frown he wore on his own face. Probably thinking the same thing. His brother. His actual family. And yet, he knew so very little about him. Over ten years had passed since they’d even spoken and in those ten years, Cyrus was little more than a mystery to him. And likely vice versa.

The past six months had been rocky to say the least, trying to get things back in order. Trying to get to know each other again after all that time apart. Fiearius had been blaming Cyrus for being resiliently uninterested in the effort, but he was likely just as much to blame. He kept expecting his little brother to lay out his life’s story, but never offered the same courtesy in return. Maybe they were both at fault.

The same could be said for the girl. He’d thought being nice would be enough to win her over. That friendliness would make her feel more at home in this strange ship away from home. But maybe that was a misconception as well. She didn’t know him, why should he get to know her?

Well, it just wouldn’t work.  If they really were going to be stuck on this ship for the foreseeable future, as, honestly, Fiearius believed, then it was perhaps about time to change that. Maybe this strange quiet girl’s advice was actually exactly what they all needed.

“Right,” he said at last. “Telling stories. I like it.” He smiled down at the girl and cocked a brow at her. “You know, I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“Corra,” she answered in her usual mutter, though at least she was looking at him for once instead of hiding her face.

“Well then. Good idea, princess,” he congratulated her and ignoring her perplexed frown, he turned back towards the oven and turned it up. “Now both of you get off your asses and give me a hand with this. It’s fucking Concordia. Let’s fucking work together. You know. To be festive.”

Behind him Cyrus let out a groan and rolled his eyes. Corra looked up at him curiously and then smiled. Reluctantly, they did as they were told and for the first time, the Dionysian crew, small as it was, worked together to accomplish something. Now if they weren’t the gods-damned spirit of the holiday, Fiearius thought as he mutilated potatoes, what the hell was?

Corra’s suggestion ended up being a great one. By the end of the night, with the help of a hearty meal and a helping of drink, Fiearius almost believed that he really was back on Satieri again, talking with friends rather than his estranged sibling and an ally girl he’d adopted. And it was a tradition that kept on. Every year following, the Dionysian crew would gather on Concordia, eat, drink and swap tales of lives gone by. There was nothing, Fiearius realized that night, that would ever quite soothe the home-shaped hole that was in their hearts. There would always be an emptiness of longing for days past. But if there was a cure? If there was such a thing to overcome the loss, it would be this.

‘Working together’ was great and all. A good moral. But the true value of Concordia on the Dionysian was something else entirely. Good times with good people. And as much as Fiearius often longed for Satieri, he’d not trade his unorthodox little family for the entire span.

It was understandable why she was afraid, he supposed. She’d been carried off the only home she’d ever known by two strange men she’d never heard of. Who knew what their plans were for her? Surely there were many uses for a young woman such as herself and Fiearius’ particular intended use was uncommon. He didn’t blame her for being frightened at first.

Though three weeks later, having been nothing but careful and courteous and leaving her be to do as she will, even if her will was to hide in her room and continue to weep, Fiearius thought it was about time to cut it out. Had he not proven no ill intention yet? He’d destroyed the deed, told her she was free, made her dinner every damn night and handed her a gun so she could shoot him if she felt threatened for gods’ sakes. What more did she need to believe it?

Although, notably, she hadn’t shot him. So perhaps that was progress after all.

“Yeah maybe,” he muttered absently to his brother before heading back out of the bridge, rather unable to take any more of the incessant chatter coming from the console. He gestured towards it as he stepped out into the hall. “Enjoy slowly losing your brain cells to that woman.” Behind him, Cyrus waved his hand absently, eyes fixed on the screen.

———————————-

Fiearius could not remember a Concordia feast prepared as quietly as this one. Way back when, at his childhood home, the process of cooking the dinner was one that involved at least eight people shouting back and forth at each other. Even later on, when the guests had been much fewer, there were at least three. Never had he completed the task completely alone, as he was now. As all of the meals he prepared these days were. Not that Fiearius didn’t enjoy the quiet solace of cooking alone, but today? It just didn’t feel right.

But the whole ship was like this. Quiet. Silent. He’d chosen the Dionysian partially for its small size, but no matter how small it was, this empty? It felt huge. Cyrus stuck mostly to the command deck. The princess, he could only assume, clung to her quarters on the crew deck. And here he was, in the kitchen, all alone, cooking a feast for three. It almost made him want to go back upstairs and ask Cyrus to play that stupid Concordiarana video again just to feel like today actually was special.

Just after he silently finished cutting the vegetables and silently mixing the soup and was just about to silently check on the meat in the oven, the silence was broken by the sound of light footsteps. Ready to order Cyrus to help him or at least keep him company, Fiearius looked up and opened his mouth, but paused when he realized it was not his brother standing there and staring at him with big brown doe eyes, but the only other occupant of the ship.

Surprised, he stood up straight and smiled cautiously. He had a subconscious reaction to never make any quick movements around her. Specifically not with that gun still holstered to her hip. “Hey, princess,” he greeted her calmly. “Y’etah Concordia.”

Those giant eyes just blinked back at him through her dark hair. She didn’t move. She didn’t run away. But she didn’t seem to comprehend either. So he tried again, dropping the Ridellian, “Happy Concordia?” This, she actually seemed to respond to. She perked up and then frowned thoughtfully, looking away from him. “Lost track of the date, huh?” he guessed, earning him another long quiet stare. So she still didn’t feel like talking to him. Fair enough. Nothing new. He turned back towards the oven. “Well have a seat.” He gestured towards the table. “Feast’s almost ready.”

Fiearius had expected her to flee. Or simply stand there totally still until he looked away and she was free to drift off. That seemed to be the usual reaction anyway. But, much to his surprise, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her not disappear into the closest hallway, but rather move cautiously over to the table, pull out a chair and sit down. No such thing as Concordia miracles, his ass.

Not wanting to cause her mind to change about sticking around, however, he didn’t press for anything further. The last time he’d asked her a simple question, she hadn’t come out of her room for two days. As volatile and skittish as she was, Fiearius had to wonder what she’d be like if he actually had decided to keep her an ally rather than a guest. How would he have gotten her to do anything? No wonder Goddora had mentioned she had been a discounted product. Fuckin’ useless, this one.

She hadn’t seemed that way, back on Kadolyne. Of all the times he’d been in Goddora’s office and she’d been there, pouring him drinks, the girl had held herself confidently. The other allies he’d met in the hall had turned their eyes from him and shrunk out of the way. This one, however, had stared him down from the very moment he stepped in the door. She’d met his eyes, unimpressed and unafraid. So very different from the girl that stood before him now. He believed, however, that that tough, fearless girl was still in there, somewhere. It was just a matter of getting her out.

Or perhaps just waiting til she came out on her own. “It smells good,” she offered suddenly, from the table. Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was the first time she’d said a word to him without being prompted. He’d take it.

“Thanks,” he muttered in reply, casting her a skeptical glance. “Hope you like it. Might be a bit different than what you’re used to on Kadolyne.” The girl shrugged, but she seemed uninterested in saying anything else. Unfortunately for her, Fiearius wasn’t quite willing to give it up yet. “Do much celebratin’ back there?”

At this, she nodded, but remained silent still. Until, “Of course.”

Fiearius smirked. Progress, perhap? “Well excuse me, how should I know,” he muttered, though good-naturedly.

“We had to cook the feast for Goddora and his men,” she continued, much to his surprise. “But we made far too much for them so we had a feast of our own.” For the first time since she’d come aboard the Dionysian, a faint hint of a smile twisted its way into her lips.

“He didn’t mind that?” Fiearius asked curiously, leaning up against the counter.

“No,” she replied shortly. “He was fine with it.”

“Hm,” he mumbled under his breath. “Doesn’t seem like him.”

“He’s not that bad,” the girl offered, strangely defensive. He would never have predicted the behavior for the sake of her former owner. “We were good. Taken care of. We were good. Like family.”

When she went quiet again, Fiearius knew that that was probably about as much as he’d get out of her. Her head had sunk, her eyes had dropped and now she stared solemnly at her hands in her lap. She looked like she might start crying again at any moment. He was almost certain, in fact, that she would. But despite his best logic, he couldn’t help but ask, quietly, “You miss ‘em don’t you?” She nodded quietly, still watching her fingers as they laced together. “I’m sorry…”

There was nothing that differentiated morning from night on a spaceship. It was a fact that Fiearius had taken a long time to get used to. Really, even having spent six months on the Dionysian, he still wasn’t used to it. Though his body still believed, after about six or seven hours of sleep, that it was time to awaken, his eyes opened each morning to find his quarters just as dark as they had been when he’d fallen asleep and his brain refused to comply.
Continue reading →