Chapter Text
You have been assigned to a being called “Dedan”.
Dedan has an important mission. Be sure that it’s accomplished.
We will let you out in Zone 1. Good luck.
For more information, talk to the other guardians, or find the one called “The Queen”.
When Dedan first met his assigned Player, he had thought to himself if this was some cruel joke on him or the like that the Queen and the other Guardians played on him. Blinking in shock down at the person that looked not too different from all the Elsen scuttling about if fear of him, he frowned and pointed a long finger into their face.
“You’re my Player?” he growled at them, “You tiny little shit?”
“Yes,” his Player smiled—fucking smiled!—at him, clasping their hands behind their back. “And I think you’re my Dedan?”
“I’m not anyone’s, you got that?” Dedan snapped at them, turning around to face away from them, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “Goddamnit, I ask for extra hands and this is what I get? Shit resources, I’m going to bitch so hard at the Queen for this…”
The Player cleared their throat, and Dedan halted in his movements against his will. The Guardian’s eyes widened and by some other force he turned around to face his Player again, and they were still smiling at him.
“Look, I may not be what you’re expecting—”
“You’re not,” Dedan cut in, but they shook their head.
“But just give me a try, okay? And anyway, no matter what, I’m still your Player and you’re still my Dedan, no matter what happens. You’re stuck with me, pal.” They grinned, giving him a thumbs-up, but Dedan rolled his eyes, and resisting a weak hold on him, stormed away. He heard his Player sigh behind him, and follow suit.
“Did I tell you to follow me, punk?” he snapped at them, turning around abruptly, but they didn’t anticipate that and bumped right into him. “Ugh, get off me.”
His Player pulled themselves off Dedan, pouting up at him. “Hey, would it kill you to at least lighten up? And besides, what idjit would leave his Player behind in a world like this?”
Dedan scoffed. “Clearly, then, you haven’t met me.”
His Player sighed, shaking their head—
And suddenly spectres came into the area, the Elsens that had been shuffling around them hastily running away, breathlessly screaming in fear as the spectres approached Dedan and the Player.
“Damn it, not again,” the Guardian grumbled, making a move to attack—only to find that he couldn’t, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get his hands to move on their own. His eyes widened and he turned to look at his Player, who was intently staring into space, their brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to yell at them before they beat him to it.
“Minute Hand.” The Player stated, and Dedan’s eyes widened. That was one of his Competences! How could they have known that?
“Minute Hand, Dedan, right now!” they yelled, and without him thinking it, his body obeyed and he swept his hands around the area, the Competence hitting one of the spectres hard and defeating it.
Dedan stared back at his Player. They were controlling him, telling him his every move, like a puppeteer to their puppet.
Well, damned if he liked that, but there were more pressing matters at hand. Chewing out the Player can wait for later.
“Attack that Arpagon!” they ordered, and he charged forward, punching the Spectre and sending it into non-existence. He grumbled under his breath in annoyance. The Player, he had to admit, was good at this.
Damn it.
His Player was smiling at him throughout the fight, and when he had finished off all the Spectres, they came up to him, still smiling brightly. “Good job, Dedan.” they chuckled, but Dedan scowled at them and stalked away. His Player smiled at him fondly, chuckling, before following suit.
This time around, Dedan didn’t say a word.
He had to admit that having the Player around made his job a whole lot easier than it should be. He could concentrate on segregating the jobs among the Elsen and it would be the Player who would spot the Spectres for him and call him there and tell him what to do while he thought nothing about the fight and more about the paperwork he had left behind on his desk as the Player controlled his body to however they deemed fit to get rid of the Spectres as fast and as efficient as they could.
Then it came to the time when he had noticed that the incidents of Burnt Elsen had significantly decreased. He was so surprised he threw the papers at the trembling Elsen in front of him and yelled at them for doing a shit job at collecting the statistics, but then his Player stepped into his office (and no, the office most certainly did not look brighter than before), pouting and telling him off, hugging the Elsen to themselves to calm him down while they made Dedan smack himself with his own hand.
“Very mature, Player.” He drawled, but they sighed and shook their head, before turning their attention to the Elsen.
“Hey, it’s okay, you did a great job, and you’re so good at it, so keep your chin up, okay, baby?” they cooed at the Elsen, who smiled shyly, a grey blush spreading across his white cheeks and they nodded.
“Th-thank you, hhhhh… Director Player…” he rasped, before embarrassedly ducking away from the Player and excusing himself and exiting the room.
Dedan was scowling when the Player looked back at him.
“What the fuck was that?” he demanded, lifting his feet onto his table as he crossed his arms.
“That, Dedan, was called positive motivation.” His Player replied calmly, flicking their wrist, and at once Dedan’s feet removed themselves from the table and planted firmly onto the ground. The Guardian glared at his Player, who, used at his glares, only smiled at him, clicking their tongue. “You’re yelling at them too much, why do you think they’re so scared of you? If they’re stressed out that bad, you know what’ll happen.”
Dedan scoffed, “Well, that was for nothing, Player. For some reason there’s lesser incidents now.”
His Player smiled knowingly, and he stared at them, wide-eyed.
“You.” He breathed, and his Player nodded, chuckling.
“Yep, me. I take care of the little buggers. They work better now, don’t they?” they smiled, shrugging, and Dedan scowled at them. “C’mon, just a little thank-you, at least? Good job?”
Dedan grumbled something out, and his Player cocked his head. “Dedan?”
“I said, ‘good job,’ you little shit!” he yelled at them, and the Player’s eyes widened for a moment, before their expression of surprise melted into warm mirth and their shoulders began to shake, and not long after that they began to laugh, loudly, and brightly, and all Dedan could do was stare at his Player in confusion.
“What is it?” he demanded, but his Player shook their head, and kept laughing.
Dedan watched on, confused. He had seen so much different emotions before: rage, fear, despair, and the like, but never something like this.
It is such a secret place, the land of happiness, yet it seemed that his Player had no trouble finding it.
In the back of his mind, Dedan wondered what happiness felt like, and he realised that his Player had calmed down and was now gently smiling at him.
“What?” he snapped, fighting to keep the stutter out of his voice, but his Player noticed it anyway, but did not speak of it.
“Thank you, Dedan.” They gently said, and something dead inside of Dedan began to stir to life as warmth slowly began to seep into the stone-cold cracks of the Guardian’s soul.
His Player turned to leave, and as the door shut, they failed to notice a small upward quirk that had appeared in the corner of Dedan’s mouth.
He had come late to the tea party the Queen had called for because of an Elsen that had accidentally dropped a container of metal into a vat of meat. It took far too long to get the container out, that he had no time to screech at the Elsen.
Yes, of course, that was the reason why he hadn’t been that harsh on that particular poor bastard, not because he knew his Player would be upset that he had chewed out an Elsen again.
As he entered the room, he heard his Player’s voice animatedly talking to Enoch, their voice peppered with giggles and laughter as the large man offered them plate after plate of cake and pudding and some other confectionary saturated with sugar.
Then he heard it—Japhet’s voice speaking up.
“Dear Player, you spend almost all your time by Dedan’s side—does he not bother you?” the bird asked, pecking at his dish of tea, ignoring Hugo (who was sitting on his mother’s lap) grasping onto his tail feathers in curiosity. “He’s got a most awful temper, and he lashes out on all he talks to.”
“Oh, even us,” Enoch sighed, before taking another bit of cake. “Is he treating you well, Player? Or would you like to spend time with us too?”
Dedan frowned at his fellow Guardian’s words, but he knew they rang true. He was about to turn away and leave—the Queen’s orders be damned—when he heard his Player speak up.
“Oh, no, he doesn’t bother me at all.” His Player replied, “If anything, I think it’s me who’s bothering him. You see, he’s just really stressed out with his work, that’s why he’s so cranky, but really, I’m sure he’s really nice. A softie.”
“Oh?” the Queen spoke up, “Have you pierced our diamond’s hard ore shell?”
“Your Majesty,” his Player laughed, “No, no, he is a dear friend of mine. I truly like Dedan—he’s a great guy, I’m sure, and besides, these days he has started calming down. He’s not yelling that much any more, and I think he’s handling the stress better now.” They chuckled, “That’s why I’m so ready to help him however I can.”
“That’s so selfless of you, dear Player,” Japhet commented, and the rustle of feathers told Dedan that the bird was probably attempting to pat his Player’s head.
Their bright laughter confirmed his thoughts.
It was probably time to show himself.
Clearing his throat, Dedan caught the attention of all those at the table (save for Hugo, who was now playing with the Player’s hand) and he nodded at each of them silently before taking a seat next to his Player.
They smiled up at him, and his eyes widened slightly. They had known he was there the entire time—of course, he thought to himself, his Player saw all that he did.
“It’s so nice to see you, Dedan,” the Queen greeted, and he nodded at her, but then his eyes widened when he felt a hand slip into his. He looked to his side, where his Player was avoiding his gaze, but there was a smile on their face.
Dedan fought the creeping quirk in his lips, but he couldn’t help feel his insides warm up and feel like they were floating.
There, he thought, as he sipped at tea, this was probably happiness—this warm, strange feeling inside him, and the feeling of his Player’s hand in his.
Yes, it probably is.
His Player was probably his happiness—his serendipity, if you will.
Dedan sighed into his cup, and missed the secret smile the Queen was smiling at him.
For the first time in a long time, at last, Dedan decided that he felt happy.