Relationship: Kurt/female De Sardet
Tags: POC De Sardet, canon events, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining, older man/younger woman, Greedfall good ending, canon events
Notes: Some liberties were taken to expand on events and thoughts. I didn't go through every scene of course but I wanted to sort of slowly build a relationship based on the things they go through. The foundation was already there. I find it interesting that De Sardet moves back from Kurt at the beginning of the game. His tone to her then was different from the previous ones we had heard. In my playthrough I felt terrible for killing the guardians. Especially after the revelations of what they were before. I hope to write for this fandom again at some point. Thanks for reading!
The first time she truly allowed herself to notice him was when he had knocked her flat on her back.
They had been sparring in the courtyard. Running drills for her impending trip across the sea to the new frontier. She hadn't held a sword in years, her mother and the Prince sending her off to various courts and universities when she had turned 15 to learn about each country in the Congregation of Merchants. Stuffy places where women, noblewomen, did not wear trousers or hold swords like some common thug. While she had missed the fresh air and exercise from the training she didn't miss the early mornings. Or the bruises that surely were to litter her back and sides from being knocked down.
Repeatedly.
Kurt's shadow inched over her as she took the time to catch her breath. His eyes roamed over her prone form assessing the potential damage he may have done from the kick he inflicted to her chest. She was glad then for the color of her skin. The way it hid the blush that she felt on her cheeks. She wasn't blind. Kurt was handsome in a rugged way. Like the way the swordsmen or swordswomen in the romance novels were. The ones that she would find the maids giggling over as they read out loud passages about rippling muscles and scars. Whenever Kurt escorted Constantin and her to functions, he would earn appreciative looks from courtiers. At first she rolled her eyes at their not so subtle gawking making Constantin laugh behind his hand. But now, ever since her return two years ago after finishing her studies, something else curled hot in the pit of her stomach. Something else that felt a lot like jealousy any time she caught sight of a courtier trying to catch his eye. The deep satisfaction at watching him ignore or decline their passes was startling.
"Green Blood."
He reaches a hand down to help her up, fingers curling around hers. She can feel the calloused pads of his fingertips, the rough texture of his palm. Mostly she can feel the warmth and strength in the grasp. The easy way he pulled her up to her feet. The gentleness of it despite the power she knows he possesses.
Her hand seemed so small in his. Deep brown skin contrasting with his. Better fit for a rapier he had said when he first assessed her and Constantin when they were 6.
Better fit for a dagger, he had whispered as he pressed the handle into her palm after the first attempt on their lives when they were 9. The silent intensity of his gaze, his hand holding the blade. The command unspoken.
Keep it with you.
His hand soon left hers, pulling her from her memories. He stepped back into position across from her waiting for her to take her dueling stance. She grasps the hilt of her rapier tightly. Anything to shake the feeling of his skin on hers. And the thoughts of how it would feel elsewhere.
She gazed in wonder at the creature that lay on the cobblestone floor of the port. The branches and leaves on its body catch the light of the mid morning sun and she feels a sense of sadness take over her. Guilt suffused her soul as she took in the spikes through its hands. Remembered the way it had stared at her with wild eyes. Eyes of a scared animal, confused by the noise and smells of the bustling crowd. A sea of people rolling and moving like the waves that lapped against the hulls of the great ships. She could see the intelligence in its eyes as the light slowly bled out.
Kurt ran up to her, concern lining his usually stoic face. His mouth moved forming a question she couldn't hear. Blood rushing in her ears, adrenaline present in her veins. She was deaf to everything except for the sounds of her mind. Up until then she had avoided killing anything. All the thugs that had accosted her and Kurt as they made their way to the port had only been knocked out. Later picked up by Coin Guards that patrolled the streets. She had sneaked past the men holding Constantin hostage. Had dressed as a Naut to infiltrate their warehouses. Done everything in her power to never do anything more than that.
Kurt moves into her line of view, face partially blocking the body from view and she finally meets his gaze.
"What-?"
Her voice sounds loud in her ears as she stared into his eyes. Her world narrows as she takes in his scarred face, stubble on his jaw, the way his grey blue eyes glinted under the shadowed brim of his hat. The concern for her well-being swimming in them.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
He repeats again, voice still muffled to the rushing of blood in her ears, reaching for her. The first touch of his fingers to her arm burned. She didn't want him to touch her. Not that she didn't welcome it. His steadying presence a balm to her frayed nerves after the fight. But she can't help but feel like she didn't deserve that concern. His care scalded her skin. Reminding her that she had just killed.
She didn't deserve it.
She moved back slightly out of his grasp. An unknown emotion flits across his face as she does so. There and gone before her muddled mind can categorize it. She blinks slowly.
"Yes, no, I'm fine…"
"Are you sure-"
"Yes."
Her tone was harsher than she had intended.
His hand hovered between them for a moment before his fingers curled slowly. The glove on his hand grew taunt as he clenched it into a fist, the leather squeaking from the pressure. She follows it as it moves back to his side away from her. His eyes still watch her. Gaze heavy and measured. A moment of time cast in stasis.
"Cousin!"
Time moved again. Whatever that moment was gone at the energetic presence of her cousin. Kurt nodded slowly and moved back from them. Returning to his position of polite distance. A distance that she acutely felt.
In the darkened room of the ship, she rubbed her arm where his fingers had touched.
Renier's body lay before them. Broken and battered, face full of pain. He was so young. A boy no older than 18, 19 maybe. Only a few years younger than she was at the age of 25. There was still a chubbiness to his cheeks not yet smoothed out. Patchy sections of stubble on his jaw. Body under his armor long and gangly. If he were alive she got the feeling that he would be all limbs. Awkward in that way that teenage boys were on the cusp of adulthood.
So young, so young.
She sighs deeply feeling the weight of this unnecessary death settle on her shoulders. She didn't know this person- not yet a man but no longer a boy- before her but she keenly felt the loss of his life.
Not as much as Kurt.
Rage rolled off of him as he stared unblinkingly. The bruised face of the boy before them assuredly burning itself into his long memory. She knows it is for her.
Her hand reaches for his before her brain can stop herself. Her fingers touching the top of his hand that gripped the examination table. She tells herself that she's only doing this for comfort. To keep him from breaking the wood that creaked under the strength of his emotions. His knuckles were white with tension, every plane of his body tight and unyielding.
"I'm so sorry, Kurt."
He nods and she sees the grief in his eyes. She is about to move her hand away from his. He had always told her that she was too empathetic for her own good. Her mind telling her that he didn't want her to touch him. But then he surprised her. She feels his hand harden impossibly more under her fingers before they slowly relaxed. His hand turning under hers and for the briefest of moments he holds hers. His body was still tight. Rage was still present in every facet of his face but he held her hand like it was made of the finest glass.
"When I find out who did this," he began, voice low and deadly, "they're going to wish it was the devil instead."
He lets go of her hand then, spine stiffening, face falling once again into a mask of indifference. Transforming into the Master of Arms, Captain of the Coin Guard. She watches him leave the room. Kurt's threat hung in the silence. His rage followed after him like a shroud. A cape of darkness casting its freezing pall over her and she shudders under its stare.
The letter hung limply from her hand as she stared into nothingness. The house was silent except for the soft crackling of the fire. Its glow casting long shadows across the room.
She doesn't feel it. She had tended to it, placed logs on it and stoked it fullness. But its warmth never sunk into her bones. Heat failing to dissipate the ice in her. She wanted to cry but the tears were stuck. They sat behind her eyes and she could feel them there. Taste the salty bitterness of them in her mouth. Feel the burn of them in her nose. But they never fell.
The door to the house opened and closed softly. The heavy thread of armored feet moved towards her, stopping just on the outskirts of her view. She doesn't need to look to know it's Kurt. She hands him the letter in lieu of a greeting.
The letter had been waiting for her. The attendant telling her it had been left a week ago by the secretary of the Congregation while she was out. The wax seal on the back shone black in the lamp light. The impression of the royal family signet ring visible. She didn't need to open it to find out what it said. A part of her always knew it would come one day.
The scrape of wood against the floor drew her gaze from the fire to Kurt. He was dragging a small stool over. He sat on it tiredly sagging into the wood beneath him. He looked tired. Lines and dark shadows under his eyes cast in relief by the orange light of the fire. He took off the hat he wore, fingers running through his short hair before dragging over his face.
"It's dated a week after our departure from Serene…"
Her fingers without the letter to hold moved into her lap. She wrung them together, an anxious habit she had from childhood. One that tutors and etiquette teachers had trained out of her. Or so they thought.
"You know when we got here I had started to compose a letter to her. I wanted to tell her about the island. About the people and places we had seen. I was going to send it on the next boat. The one that was leaving the island tomorrow."
She laughs and it chokes her.
"I guess there's no need now… I should have stayed with her," she whispers, voice heavy with regret, "I should have stayed. I should never have come here. It's been nothing but tragedy after tragedy and I cannot bear it."
She didn't realize that she was crying until she felt the warmth of his knuckle on her cheek. The dam in her eyes crumbled under the weight of her grief. Through it all, Kurt stayed silent. His fingers catching each crystalline drop that fell. She reaches up and grasps them holding them to her cheek and squeezes her eyes closed. A vain attempt to stem their tide.
"Yes, you can."
She opens them looking at him, hand still holding his to her face. He adjusted his fingers to curl under her ear, cupping her jaw and the spiraling mark it held. The rough pad of his thumb slowly swept over her cheek wiping away the wetness.
"You're the strongest person I know," he said, his gruff voice firm.
"I don't feel very strong…"
He shook his head drawing his hand away from her face. She misses it.
"Strength comes in many forms. Both you and your mother are prime examples of that."
"It hurts."
"I know. You'll feel it in your soul. Like a piece of your heart was cut right out of you. It'll hurt like hell for a time. But like all wounds it will lessen. The pain is still there but not as much. You'll feel it sometimes. A distant ache that reminds you of what was lost."
He holds her gaze, steady as he always was. She wonders if this was the true man under the facade of the cold mercenary he wore. Under the remarks about increasing his pay anytime they walk away from a difficult skirmish.
"When did you get so wise?" she murmured, holding his gaze.
"I've always been wise, Green Blood. My wisdom costs extra but it's free just this once."
Despite herself she chuckles. It's a wet laugh and her head is starting to hurt from her tears but the crushing weight of grief is lighter. She was no longer adrift in its waves.
"Thank you."
A soft smile curls across his face, the fire light dancing in his eyes.
"Not a problem, Green Blood."
Something had shifted that day. She couldn't quite place what.
They always worked well together in a fight. The years he had spent training her and then the refresher course she had gone through before they left for Teer Fradee helped reestablish that bond. He would knock the opponent down with his long sword. Their body flying back from the force. She would move in and strike as quick as a viper with her rapier before dashing back out of range. They danced circles around enemies, quickly cutting them down.
Petrus, Siora and Vasco were good teammates. Picking up the slack in places that she or Kurt couldn't be. Magical attacks that chipped away armor. Gun blasts that knocked enemies into range of Kurt's weapon. Dancing twin blades that struck from all sides.
No, the battles and skirmishes they got into as they explored was not what had changed.
Kurt was still, well, Kurt. Still the slightly grumpy, oftentimes acerbic man he always was. Closing the ghost camp and saving Wilheim had lifted something off him. He was always honest with her. Blunt more often than not. But now he was more open. Less reticent to talk about himself. He spoke of what he remembered of his family. Of the wet nurse and memories of the other men he had trained with in the guard before being posted at the palace.
"Do you ever feel lonely?"
She had asked that once before immediately regretting it. Such a stupid question. But he answered all the same.
"I always do," he paused, "why? Do you want to rectify this?"
The look in his eyes changed to that unknown emotion she had seen so many months ago. She still couldn't place what it meant. She felt her face heating up as she stuttered her answer of just wanting to know him better. Maybe they could become friends now that there was more time. She felt like sinking into the floor.
It wasn't until they had met Aphra that she realized what it could be.
Aphra was a skilled fighter. Skilled enough that she got the drop on her before sticking a gun right in her face. Vasco, Petrus and Siora slowly introduced themselves to alleviate Aphra's suspicions. Her doubts at who they were. Anything to keep Aphra's itchy trigger finger from putting a hole in her head. But Kurt had other plans.
"Kurt, simply Kurt. I protect our excellency's back…"
His grin was sharp like jagged glass. A flash of teeth that was anything but friendly.
"And if one of your violent fits over takes you again, rescue party or not, I will kill you."
Behind the Mask of the Deer Spirit, De Sardet's eyes widened. Her mouth slowly opened in shock at the sheer audacity. His tone while jovial, left no room for interpretation. He would do it without hesitation and make his apologies to the Governor later. Aphra simply stared at him before she put her gun away. She commented on the oddity of the group as if he hadn't just threatened her life.
"Was that necessary?"
She had asked later in the quietness of camp. He stood just on the edge of the fire's light, eyes sweeping the darkness around them. The rest of the party and rescued scientists lay asleep in its warmth. She couldn't sleep. The activity of the day's events still ran through her mind and she felt a pressing need to know. The silence between them stretched like the night around them until she thought he would never answer and she would have to resign herself to not knowing. She had turned away, her cape swirling about her knees, when he spoke. Voice so low it could have been mistaken for the wind.
"No one does what she did and gets away with it."
It wasn't until later when the guns of the Coin Guard were pointing in their direction with Kurt standing between them and oblivion that she was able to see the look on his face. An expression no longer hidden by the night. One that she began to realize meant something more than loyalty to their coin purses and the power it wielded over him. That even though he whispered his warning to Constantin he never once stopped looking at her. That unknown emotion he always had when it came to her becoming more known with each passing day. But now wasn't the time for revelations of feelings.
They had a coup to stop.
Ash drifted past them like snow.
It swirled in the wind from the raging fire that roared. It's great flames licking the sky, staining it a deep red. She had seen a sky like this before. An old Naut captain that would ferry her mother and her to their destinations would sometimes postpone their voyages by a few hours or a day if the morning sky burned red.
"Red night is a sailor's delight but a red morning is a sailor's warning," he would say as he chuffed her chubby chin making her giggle. It wasn't until she learned more about the Nauts that the phrase made sense.
A storm was approaching.
Kurt stood beside her, watching the execution's proceedings with the same stoicism he always held. Still as a statue but by now she knew better. Knew that his eyes would betray the emotions that glinted in their depths.
Their dynamic had changed again. Moving towards something she could not name but eagerly awaited all the same. Maybe it was the storm of what next now that he was finally free from the past that haunted him. Maybe it was something else. But in the heat of the flames, the crimson sky burning above them as white ash swirled around their feet in dizzying spirals, she couldn't care less.
As long as he was by her side and she by his, they would weather that storm together.
Constantin was acting erratic.
His usual charismatic ways belied a cruelty she had never seen in him before. The light in his eyes darkened, his mouth twisting with callous words that fell from them like drops of poison.
My dear fair cousin
Her training kept her from taking a step back, from her face jerking with revulsion at the way he regarded her with his Malichor tainted eyes. It wasn't the illness that repulsed her but the way in which he spoke to her. The honeyed timber of his voice as he called to her. How quick it turned bitter and harsh if one of her companions spoke. Slowly they began to stay outside of the doors to the court when she had to go in.
"It is faster this way, my dear," Petrus said as he gently clapped her shoulder, "We'll be here when you are done."
Each of her friends nodded in agreement. She could see they hated it too. It was indeed faster but she didn't want to be alone. This wasn't the boy she knew before. The man who boarded the Naut ship excited for the next adventure with plans and schemes at the ready. He had changed. Who was this man masquerading as Constantin? Her eyes sought Kurt's before each meeting. His gaze and form immovable as the stone beneath her feet grounding her. She straightens her spine, head held high as she pushes the doors open.
Despite the reveal of her true parentage, he was still family to her. She worked tirelessly to bring back the man she had considered her brother.
"You need to rest. Your work will keep."
"I know, Siora. It's just…"
Siora nods, eyes sad with understanding.
"Yes but you cannot help him if you are unable to stand on your feet."
Reluctantly she moved away, shoulders sloping as she allows the weight of her tasks to press into her. She moves like a marionette, legs dragging over the dirt floor of the camp site. She finds her bedroll and curls under the blanket. Eyes falling shut as her friends moved around her. Their soft voice lulling her into a dreamless sleep.
She woke in the middle of the night. The fire was low, its soft orange glow barely dispersing the inky black of night. The stars shining above her. She wonders if the people- her people- had different names and stories for the constellations.
"Go back to sleep, Green Blood."
Her eyes move from the orbs above her to the side. Kurt sat with his knees drawn up, arms resting over them as he watched the dwindling fire.
"How did you know I was awake?"
She could see the ghost of a smirk cross his face before he answered.
"You stopped snoring."
"Rude."
"Seriously, I thought you were dead at first. I was planning on hiding your body and then collecting my pay before disappearing. I'm sure Vasco could find a way for me to discreetly get off the island."
She huffs, covering her growing smile with her woolen blanket.
"As if our friends would let you go that easily."
He shrugs, soft light glinting off the sword at his side, refracting into points of glowing colors. His armor lay behind him within reach. Ready in a moment's notice. She tries not to stare at the way his muscles bunched and moved.
"Maybe so," he says, stoking the fires until they glowed brighter. His grey blue eyes glinting like the backs of sun warmed fish in a stream, "But I'm not called the Master of Arms for show."
"Enlightened One help us," she groaned though she knew he could see the mirth in the crinkle of her eyes. They fell silent then. Each content in the other's presence. So different from the distance of the past.
Fighting together has a way of bringing people closer.
He had told her that once when she subtly- alright, not so subtly- asked about his relationship with Sieglinde. It is true. The many nights and days traveling with such an odd assortment of characters changed them. They were brothers and sisters in arms.
If only Constantin were here.
That thought crossed her mind sobering her. A wish she had hoped one day would come to fruition. One of many dreams she hoped to see. As if sensing her mood, Kurt moves to lay back. Arms crossed behind his head as he adjusted. He looked to her after, eyes telling her he was listening.
"I wish Constantin was well," she began, "I wish he could see what I saw. Not the battles, no. I'm sure he would enjoy himself immensely with those but I wish he was able to see all the good."
She sighs, hiding more of her face under the blanket until it almost covers it.
"I know that's idealistic of me," she murmured, her fingers once again wringing together.
"Not at all. It's only natural you would want your family to be with you. I have a few in the guard that I wish were here as well."
She turns over to face him, face still half hidden by the blanket. She pushes it down under her chin, her fingers running over the slightly frayed edge.
"You told me you were given to the guard young. Do you have any happy childhood memories?"
He thinks for a moment, staring up into the night sky before he turns towards her as well. He was close enough that she could see small flecks of freckles on his skin. See the smallest of scars on his cheeks. She wishes she could trace each one and wonders if he'll let her.
"Some. I remember this one time I and a few other lads had skipped training instead to go swimming. Cool water around our waists, the heat of the sun on our backs, running over the smooth pebbles of the stream. It was nice."
"I like that memory. It sounds so carefree."
"It was. Little in my life afterwards elicited the same feeling."
"What about now?"
She felt reckless. Daring to ask the first thing that came to her mind. She watches as his eyes flicked to her mouth before moving back up. He leans in closer, his bent arm resting near the edge of her bedroll. Elbow centimeters from the fan of her dark curls. She can feel the heat of him through her blanket or maybe that was just her. The pupils of his eyes widening into round black disks in the low light.
"I-"
A loud yawn drew his attention away, body sliding back to his bedroll as Petrus sat up groaning.
"I'm getting far too old to sleep on the ground."
Damn you, Petrus.
Kurt chuckled lowly as he sat up. He winked at her before he began teasing the older man. They lobbed good natured insults at each other. Their low laughter lulling her back to sleep.
This was it.
She had secured their allies support. They will meet at dawn and put a stop toConstantin's reign of terror. One way or another. Aphra, Siora, Petrus and Vasco opted to stay with their respective groups today. They each had their own pre-battle rituals to attend to. Kurt had left to meet Sieglinde at the Coin Guard barracks. Make sure that their provisions and supplies were ready and well stocked.
She sat at the crafting table of her home. Various supplies and potions sat around her. She didn't know what would come when they got there. What fresh horror was sent by the man she once considered family. She still does. A part of her hoping that he was under there somewhere. That she can reason with him like she was able to before corruption and devastation turned a scared young man into the very person he never wanted to be. The door opens and closes behind her, heavy thread approaching.
"Kurt, can you-"
She didn't get a chance to finish her question before she was plucked from her chair. His work roughened hands gently held her face as he kissed her. Her own hands found their way into his hair grasping onto him like a lifeline.
Finally
He pulls back, forehead resting against herz. His warm breath fanning against the tops of her cheeks.
"I've wanted to do that for weeks… Months if I'm honest."
His voice was gruffer than she had ever heard it. It's timbre sending shivers up and down her spine. He drew back, his expression uncertain.
"I-"
He looks away, stopping himself. The uncertain expression still on his face as he gathers his thoughts.
"And here the proud warrior is at a loss for words... Such a fool. I… I know I was your master of arms, for a long time, you were young then. But now, you've become a beautiful and fascinating young lady…"
He kisses her gently on her forehead. Soft lips lingering on her skin. She can feel tears prick her eyes. His gestures and words moving through her like wildfire.
"Would you do me the honour of spending one night with me? We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with. I just want you in anyway I can have you. Please," he whispered against her hair. Her fingers smooth the hair at the nape of his neck Run over the skin of jaw, the stubble rough under her hand. Even here she can feel his heart beat furiously under her palms. Or was it hers?
"Yes."
He held her to him. Hands firmly holding hips to him as he breathed in her ear. She feels her heart beat against the ribs of her chest. It beat like the wings of a small bird threatening to take flight. Her palms smooth over the plan of his back, mapping out each pit and divot. Every tapered edge of skin smooth tissue of scar. She commits them to memory in case, in case-
She shakes the thought from her head burying her face in his neck and taking in his scent. Their scent. The feel of his muscles on hers. The great beat of his heart, his voice in her ear.
He's here he's here he's here-
The light of the moon filters in through her curtains. It cuts a silver swath across the bed, illuminating the tangle of their limbs. She traces the scars on his face. Traces the soft plush of his lips.
"I had to be sure," he murmured, his long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks.
"Be sure?"
He takes the hand on his face and kisses her palm. He moves it to rest where his heart is.
"I didn't want to throw myself in front of someone who only wanted to use me. I've had enough of that in my time. To think a lady such as yourself would be interested in me…"
He shakes his head. She wets her lips, drawing closer to him. The secrets of her heart spilling from her.
"I feel like I'm dreaming. You are everything I could ever want. Even if this is just one night. Even if in the cold dawn of the morning you regret this. I will always cherish this moment."
"I will never regret it," he said with that same fierceness he reserves just for her, "Never… I love you."
Her hand slides up his chest to his neck, her fingertips brushing against his jaw. He loves her. He loves her.
"Say it again."
He moves closer, arms moving to bracket her as he kisses her forehead, then her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. Moving his way down her body. With each place he brushes with his lips he whispers his love.
A blessing, a spell, a curse.
It was all three.
It was neither.
But she knows for sure that soul beats only for him. And in that sliver of moonlight, she sighs her benediction into the air.
In the end, she couldn't reason with him. In the end, she made her choice. Constantin understood, his smile rueful. It reminded her of happier times. She held his hand as the light of his eyes fell away. Sang him the lullaby her mother had sang to them both when they couldn't sleep from nightmares. Held him until she felt his breath sigh.
"Sleep well, Constantin. I will see you soon."
The fog cleared from the battlefield as she limped down the path the had followed. One by one her friends, her family, found her. Their smiles were tired but triumphant. Each embracing her as tears fell. Theirs, hers, it didn't matter.
Kurt found her last. His arms circling around her waist as her own circled his neck drawing him into a crushing hug. Bruised, slightly bloody but whole. Here and tangible under her hands. Twin hearts calling to each other in relief, in grief, in love and anger and all the emotions in between.
Later they would mourn together.
But for now, all she wanted was Kurt's arms around her. His voice in her ear. His scent surrounding her. She steps back, surveying the survivors. People of various tribes and nations mixing together. Helping, laughing, healing.
"What now, sweet excellency?"
In the end, Kurt had been right. She was strong. All the more stronger with her friends, family and her love by her side.
"Let's go home."