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Dilan was never certain about Ienzo. The child brought into the castle by the King, his origins as tragic as any other orphan they have come across in life. He was far too small. Malnourished and young, a wisp wandering the halls.
Sometimes Dilan found himself in the same room as the child. Often when he gave Even the slip. Dilan knew he should’ve dragged him back to the man, but he didn’t feel like it. Even was overbearing to him as a grown adult, he couldn’t imagine being a child in his charge.
And, honestly, he did not want to get on the kid’s bad side.
So when he found Ienzo upstairs, reading a book far too thick and complicated for a boy of his age again, Dilan wasn’t going to do anything about it. For lord and castle were his orders, and Even wasn’t his lord.
Ienzo looked up from the book and for a moment, Dilan was so sure he would disappear right in front of him. When Ienzo declared him not a threat, he would scoot over on the couch to give more room if the man wanted to sit.
Possibly the kindest action he’s ever given Dilan.
Occasionally Ienzo would fall asleep on that couch with Dilan sitting there. Sometimes using the guard’s arm as a pillow. And Dilan wouldn’t bother to wake him up, knowing he spent too much time reading under a flashlight in his room at night. It was kind of sweet, seeing the kid less on edge. Almost normal.
But Dilan was never sure if Ienzo liked him or just tolerated him.
-
After the fall of Radiant Garden and their exile into The World That Never Was, there was a time that Xaldin did not know what to do. He had faint memories of the others. Everything was slowly coming back to him after the fog of coming back. But something was wrong.
Zexion didn’t seem to change much. Still quiet. Still too small. Still keeping his nose buried in a book. On a rare occasion of being alone in the Grey Area, Xaldin would sit with him on the couch.
Zexion would get up and leave before the cushions shifted.
Xaldin tested this a few times. Every time he was near Zexion, the young man would leave. Practically melting into the background while he was blanketed in his illusions. Xaldin could accept it.
He assumed Zexion just would always keep them all at arms length. The smallest, the youngest, the weakest. It was best to stay unnoticed and out of reach. When he could mind himself. He always seemed to bare his teeth and snap at Vexen at any given moment. The tension between him and the other two teens was strong as well, like they were getting ready to cut each other’s throats.
That was normal between all of them now. Empty glares. Fights. Just hollow husks moving off of the instincts their bodies were going through in the Before; their last memories were tumultuous at best. Prey animals feeling like predators for the first time.
He just assumed Zexion would stay in his own bubble.
Until one time, he watched Zexion stride over to Lexaeus and take the seat next to him. Not a word was uttered. Not a glance shared. Just an open book and a claim of Lexaeus’s strength and time.
The boy always did prefer him out of all the guards.
Fine.
Xaldin would no longer go out of his way to protect Zexion.
And he certainly would not notice when he did not return from Oblivion.
-
They were whole again.
They were whole again and inside Dilan’s chest was guilt trying to cut its way out.
The castle had never been this quiet before. Even was missing, Aeleus would not speak to him, and Ienzo.. Was always a few strides ahead of him. He would always just barely catch the hem of his coat turning a corner.
He was never there when he turned the round.
Dilan gave up speaking with the young man. They hadn’t had a real conversation in ten years, possibly longer, why change it now? It was best for Dilan to just continue with what he had been assigned. Guard the castle. Stab a practice dummy to get his feelings out. Assist Aeleus in repairing some of the rooms and restoring their home to an eighth of its former glory.
They could never go back to what it was.
One night, exhausted from all the extra work they had taken on he found himself on an old familiar couch. It was dusty and the cushions ripped, but it was out of the way and a tired man did not care. Any port in a storm. He could leave this old research on the cracked table. It wouldn’t go anywhere.
He just needed to close his eyes for a moment.
Dilan woke up before the sun even thought to rise, aware of the slight weight against his shoulder. He looked over to see that unruly mop of slate hair leaning against him.
Ienzo must have come looking for him. Probably to steal those files Dilan was putting off bringing to the others. He could see a few of the papers on his chest, still rising and falling slowly as he slept. The rest of them were on the floor, fallen when Ienzo’s eyes finally closed.
They could pick them up later.