The Sharpe books from Wellingtons pov must be insane because you apparently just have this mangy mutt of a guardian angel following you around. Not just the entire war, but your whole life.
Like you save a man from an unjust whipping once in your mid twenties when your suffering as a mid level supervisor, he glares up at you, you want to forget the whole incident and suddenly, boom, guardian angel.
His first act, saving you from certain death in an act of suicidal bravery that both terrifies and impresses you so much that you immediately break all rules of society and raise him from the ranks. Congratulations, he is now loyal to you to an unnerving degree. So loyal to you he will blow up an entire fortress, a fortress on your own side, just to get you some gold because you said the word must slightly more forceful than usually when asking him to get this gold for you because you are very stressed in your new role as a middle manager. This is the least of the insane things he does to protect you.
Like you can’t shake him, he is apparently tied to you by fate and his undying loyalty bordering on suicidal devotion. You are also weirdly devoted to him in a way you are absolutely not prepared to ever acknowledge. You can in fact match one another’s freak. You’ve known him for over 30 years. You know literally nothing about him. He’s probably your most stable relationship. You never see him unless he appears to save your war or your life. He knows you better than anyone in the world. You understand him better than anyone. You care for him more than you should. You think he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen and the most unnerving.
He’s probably with you on your death bed. He stands at your grave the longest.
