I am finally clean

What did you know about Diego Brando? Not much, besides civilian chatter and what little your sole connection to the castle would share. Commander Wekapipo, who had served as one of the castle’s primary protectors even before Diego had been born, always kept his commentary on the young royal short and simple.

“The intricacies of the Prince’s personality don’t matter,” he’d calmly stated while the two of you had taken a break from training. “What matters is that he is protected, at all costs.”

You’d let his words roll around in your head for a moment as you gave your wooden practice sword a few experimental swings. At the same time, your eyes stayed fixated on the castle looming just nearby. Generally, it was difficult to get this close without holding some special place in the kingdom’s hierarchy, but Wekapipo had been kind enough to offer you semi-regular lessons after you’d happened to cross paths in the shopping district.

Actually, he’d been short a few coins while buying lunch, and you were resourceful enough to cover his ass and strike a deal in the meantime. Whether or not he was happy about this deal remained to be seen, but he was, at the very least, an honorable man who fulfilled his promises. And for that, you were grateful.

“So you’re saying the quality of his character doesn’t matter?” You finally asked, hoping the question would not come across disrespectfully. It wasn’t that you doubted Diego was a good man, but rumors certainly had a way of circulating, even if they mostly seemed outlandish.

“The moment you start judging that is the moment your sense of duty falls apart,” Wekapipo immediately answered, though the tone of his voice made it unclear if he actually believed those words to be true or not. “Now, if you want this title I suggest we keep practicing.”

That was the thing about your sessions with Wekapipo; he left little to no time to talk or discuss anything that might’ve been helpful in your path towards knighthood, but he was a damn good swordsman and you certainly weren’t going to argue with him. With any luck, his expertise would soak into your mind and body and leave you with a much better chance at what you truly felt was your purpose.

Now halfway up the stairs and surrounded by a group of similarly hopeful peers, you steeled yourself for another potential ‘no’. Just hours before this, you’d taken part in a rigorous series of tests alongside the others: jousting, combat drills, rucking, stone throwing… all things you succeeded decently well at thanks to your additional training on the side, but you still had no way of knowing if it was good enough. During the tests, you hadn’t gotten a good look at Diego in the shaded area in which he was seated, but you could feel his watchful eyes taking note of every single movement you made. Being surrounded by civilians who were all watching just for the thrill of it meant little to you when you knew Diego’s opinion would be the ultimate deciding factor at the end of it all.

Your calves stung and your shoulders ached as the final steps came into view, the double doors leading inside the castle were already swung open by some of Diego’s staff, welcoming your group of twenty inside. It was the first time you’d seen the interior, but it was equally as impressive as its towering presence outside. Sky blue marble columns lined the edges of the entry room, bookended by pale gold ornamental details at their top and bottom. Similar gold decorated the walls, which arched into the ceiling in a way that all but forced the viewer’s eyes to wander until reaching the delicately painted expanse of pegasi playing amongst clouds. It was absolutely breathtaking, and you weren’t going to deny that, but you did your best to stay vigilant and focused.

Your group continued traversing the lengthy entryway, booted feet thumping against a pristinely white carpet that led into yet another doorway. It was here that you saw a familiar face guarding the set of doors, though Wekapipo did not acknowledge you beyond greeting everyone as a whole with a sweeping glance and singular nod.

“His Highness is waiting inside,” Wekapipo said, his tone almost indicative of a warning. “Once you step past this door, you should not speak. If you do, you’ll be disqualified and tossed out.”

“He hasn’t made his decision yet, then?” A gruff voice came suddenly from behind you.

You watched Wekapipo carefully to gauge his reaction, which was not positive. The corner of his mouth twitched in slight irritation, but his well-trained ability to remain stoic stayed firmly intact as he calmly replied.

“Does it matter? I assure you this won’t take long. If you have more important matters, feel free to leave.”

Not another peep came from any of you, and nobody made the decision to walk away.

“Good. Please step inside.”

With that, the doors were opened. Wekapipo led your group inside along matching carpet nestled atop a sea of pale blue and white tiled floor. Diego’s throne room was quite similar to the entryway, though it was significantly larger. Painted details along the ceiling remained largely the same, though they continued onward along the wall behind his throne, showcasing yet another pegasus with its wings outstretched and cupping an artistic depiction of the sun. That, however, was not what captivated your eyes upon stepping foot inside. Sure enough, Diego Brando was seated in his deep blue velvet padded throne, one elbow resting on an armrest, his cheek settled against his fist.

It was the first time you’d ever gotten a decent look at the man. Small in stature, but something about his energy felt large, inescapable. Golden blonde hair fell in delicate waves along his shoulders, shielded parts of his forehead in three sections of bangs, but left his sharp blue eyes uncovered as they scanned every single one of you. You wondered what he was thinking, seeing as during the trials all of you had your faces covered by armor. The only thing telling you apart had been the numbered sashes and small flags attached to your bodies. Now, you all stood before him feeling almost naked in your regular linen tunics and pants.

After all twenty of you had lined up in front of his throne in two lines of ten, Wekapipo took his place next to Diego and directed his attention to the Prince himself.

“Your Highness, all twenty hopefuls are standing before you, have you made your decision?”

Diego chewed at his inner cheek, giving your group a sweep with his eyes as his free hand tapped thoughtfully against the large belt adorning his slim waist. Finally, he glanced up at Wekapipo and beckoned the man to lean towards him with a wave of that same hand.

Standing at the very edge of the front line, you heard someone behind you whisper and did your best to ignore it. Lip reading was not a skill you possessed, but you wanted to know what exactly Diego was quietly saying to Wekapipo when the man leaned forward to listen. Was he dissatisfied with the entire lot of you? About to send you all packing? You could feel your heart pounding in your chest when Wekapipo muttered something back, the two men nodded, and then he was standing up straight again.

“His Highness has requested contestant number fifteen,” Wekapipo called out. “Please step forward.”

For a moment, your mind went blank as you fought to remember your number. It wasn’t until another contestant behind you shoved gently at your back that you realized – you were number fifteen.

Nerves completely shot and heartbeat reverberating in your throat, you took two steps forward and addressed Diego first with an expected bow before dropping down to one knee. Diego’s lips curled, but something in his face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if you were being chosen as his knight or about to be thrown out for breaking some rule you weren’t aware of.

“Number fifteen, please state your name,” Wekapipo requested, putting on an act as if he hadn’t been working directly with you for days now.

You followed his instruction, stating it clearly and confidently. Diego repeated it, his voice eerily warm and gentle for someone with so much power. It felt like minutes had passed before you felt the urge to ask if you were in trouble, but just as your lips parted to break the awkward silence, Diego broke it for you.

“I’ve made my decision,” he addressed Wekapipo, then gestured towards the rest of the group without even giving them another look. “I’ve no need for the rest.”

The knee you hadn’t knelt on felt like it might buckle. Why was fear the most prominent feeling in your gut at this moment, rather than elation? This was your dream, even if this particular royal had not been your first choice. And yet, as Wekapipo led the other nineteen now-crestfallen hopefuls back out the door, you had to fight to keep the bile from leaving your stomach.

More minutes seemed to tick by as Wekapipo returned to his place next to Diego; the room felt significantly larger still now that its occupants had lessened.

“For Christ’s sake, stand,” Diego instructed, something about his energy shifting now that it was just the three of you. Even his accent seemed more noticeable. “No need to wear those knees out any more.”

Despite the slight confusion in tone shift, you obeyed, looking to Wekapipo to see if he was similarly perturbed. The man wasn’t, but he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your back.

“Come, I’ll show you to your room. Castle staff will drop by your place in the city to grab your belongings and bring them here,” he explained, guiding you towards a hallway off the side of the throne room.

That was it? You looked over your shoulder at Diego, who was leaning back in his chair and toying with the hem of his billowy sleeve, not sharing another word or glance. It was odd, but you allowed Wekapipo to lead you out of the room, both your feet clicking against tile floor that matched the previous two.

“You may speak now, by the way,” Wekapipo teased, his tone softer now that the pair of you were in a smaller space. “You’re a resident of the castle now, so there’s no need to be timid or shy.”

‘Timid’ wasn’t exactly how you were feeling. ‘Confused’ or ‘bewildered’ would be more accurate, as your tongue felt heavy with all the questions you had but couldn’t bring yourself to ask for fear of being disrespectful.

Wekapipo, however, did not pry. Perhaps he could sense how overwhelmed you were as he led you down a long hallway and finally to an unlabeled door flanked by rooms for other members of staff.

“This is you,” he turned the knob, swinging the door open and gesturing inside for you to go first. “It’s not much, but prove yourself for long enough and you’ll be rewarded, just as I have been.”

Not much? One look into the bedroom had your breath caught in your throat. It was gorgeous, stocked with amenities and furniture of a caliber that you’d never known in your entire life. Not nearly as luxurious as what you’d just walked through to get here, but you’d have been a fool to be even the tiniest bit unhappy with it.

Once inside, you did a full spin to view the entire room, noting the already full closet of clothing, your very own washroom, and a bed so large you’d have been unable to touch each side at the same time even while laying flat across it. One look at that, and you could feel your body aching for sleep after such a long morning.

Wekapipo stood in the entryway, placing a key on the nearby vanity. “This is yours. It only unlocks this room, make sure you keep it handy, as castle staff won’t be happy if they have to frequently do it for you.”

“Right,” you mumbled, clearing your throat when you noticed how soft your voice was, “do I just…” you awkwardly waved your arms around, gesturing randomly, unsure of what you were even asking.

That urged a chuckle out from the usually steely Wekapipo, who folded his arms across his armored chest and shrugged. “Just make yourself comfortable. Relax. It’s still early in the day, perhaps a nap would be wise.”

That, you could agree with. You backed up, letting your thighs hit the mattress before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking a deep breath. Permission to relax was something you’d been unknowingly waiting for all morning.

Wekapipo’s final instruction came after he pointed to the closet. “In there you’ll find several fresh sets of clothing, which is why we previously took your measurements. Later this evening I’ll be showing you your official armor, which you’ll need to wear for the ceremony tonight.”

“Ceremony?” You lifted an eyebrow, unaware of the way your hands were running longingly against the softness of the bedsheets.

“Of course.” Your mentor gave you a look that made you want to hide under the bed. “A newly appointed knight must be knighted. Sir Brando has arranged for that to take place tonight, in the courtyard, followed by dinner.”

Suddenly the lengths your body had taken to relax all unraveled, leaving you nervous all over again. It felt obvious, seeing as Her Highness Steel had held a similar event just two months ago, however you’d intentionally skipped out on watching the entire thing. Perhaps it would’ve been wise to watch, just to see what it was like.

“Royalty from the other kingdoms will be here for the duration, so it’s best that you get proper rest beforehand so as not to embarrass the Prince.” You hoped that was mostly a joke or a teasing jab, but Wekapipo looked as serious as death. “I’ll leave you alone now, but you’ll need to be ready before sundown.”

Was it too late to back out of this entire thing? No, that was just the nerves talking. You wanted this, bad, and it was the best thing that could’ve happened to you. Many people fought for opportunities like this, and to be within the walls of this massive castle was enough of a win that you could easily get through such a large event later this evening… right?

“Thank you, Sir Wekapipo,” you finally replied as he began to slip out the door, “for everything.”

Your mentor offered a silent nod, and only when the door firmly shut did you allow yourself to collapse back against the bed and shut your eyes.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

As promised, you were woken hours later by a series of knocks on your door. With slight shame over the fact you’d never even changed out of your clothes from this morning, you blinked against the golden orange sunlight spilling into your windows and groggily answered the door.

Wekapipo greeted you again, alongside two other men who were holding every belonging you had – which wasn’t much – from your former, much smaller, living quarters. Bags were deposited into one corner of your room, after which Wekapipo requested that you follow him for your next course of action. Making sure to slip your room key into your pocket, you followed suit as he led you further into the sea of hallways that inhibited the massive castle. You hoped that, with more experience within these walls, you’d become more accustomed to their depths and feel far less lost without his guidance.

Your next destination sat beyond the kitchens and dining hall, past a small grassy courtyard where a small group of castle guards casually trained as the sun began dipping lower into the sky. Finally, at the very end of the hall, sat an armory. Lining its walls were several sets of armor and an abundance of weapons, but Wekapipo led you past them all until you reached the far corner.

“This,” he began, gesturing towards a mass of something covered by a thick wool blanket, “is yours.” With that, he tugged the blanket off and allowed it to hit the floor, revealing a pristinely polished set of silver plated armor and chainmail.

“Wow,” you breathed, wondering if you’d ever worn anything this high quality. Even without touching it you could see that it had been built by expert hands, intricate floral-like details etched into its pauldrons and cuirass. It was almost overwhelmingly beautiful to look at.

“Let’s make sure it fits,” your mentor urged you. “You won’t be needing to wear the helm tonight, but we’ll need to be sure about the rest.”

With his guidance, you carefully slipped into each piece, both of you happy to find that they fit just fine. It was heavy, much more so than what you’d been wearing this morning, but part of this role was becoming used to wearing such a suit for long periods of time. Generally, being able to hide behind a helm was something you could take solace in, but this evening you’d be left to face God knows how many unfamiliar faces.

“Go take a look.” Once you were completely suited, Wekapipo gestured towards a mirror lining the opposite wall. He himself looked pleased by how the entire thing fit, but he clearly wanted to hear your approval as well.

You turned, getting a look at yourself in the mirror and giving your fingers each a good wiggle in the confines of the gauntlets. Each step and movement you made held a sound of power within it, making you feel much larger than you actually were. It was certainly good for your confidence, even if you were still nervous about this evening.

“Feels good,” you confirmed, patting your plackart and enjoying the sound of metal on metal, “nice and sturdy.”

“His Highness only accepts the best. Just like his mother.”

To that, you said nothing. It was the first time your mentor had made mention of the former Queen since you’d started working together. This was a topic you were curious about, had a million questions related to, but had yet to feel bold enough to ask. It was odd, wasn’t it? Diego did not seem bothered by her passing, and it almost felt like something taboo to even discuss in the castle walls.

Tucking that curiosity away for much, much later, you allowed Wekapipo to explain how the rest of the evening would unfold. Just an hour from now, when the sun had set and crowds had gathered in the castle’s main courtyard, you’d be standing at the center. While other kingdoms’ royals and local civilians watched, Diego would knight you and officially claim you as his sworn protector. After that, dinner would be served in the dining hall, where the other royalty would join and very likely be introduced to you. Wekapipo insisted it was crucial that you remember each and every one of these people, as it was dire that they be impressed by you.

“Can I ask why?” It felt a smidge disrespectful, but you were just curious. Surely the only opinion that should matter was Diego’s, right?

“I’m only relaying the Prince’s wishes.” Wekapipo reached out to gently wipe away a speck of dust on one of your pauldrons. “It would be wise to follow them without question.”

You supposed it would be foolish to argue with that.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

What remained of your free hour before the ceremony seemed to zip by without any warning. In an almost out-of-body experience, you allowed yourself to be quickly ushered out towards the courtyard, instructed to wait by its side entrance until you were announced. You could feel your palms sweating profusely underneath panels of metal as you listened to the sound of bustling crowds and excited chatter.

This was, just twelve hours earlier, where you’d taken part in the trials that ultimately got you here. Then, it had been easier because it was not just you garnering the attention of hundreds of strangers, but now it was, and without a shield protecting your visage.

A stage sat at the middle back of the courtyard, now lined with several more seats than had been there this morning. You anticipated that this would be where the other royals would be sitting alongside their knights, though you were largely unfamiliar with most of them besides Lucy and her father. You hoped your brain still had the capacity to memorize faces and names after such a long, tedious day.

“Prepare yourself,” a voice came from behind you, nearly making you topple forwards and eat a faceful of grass. When you whipped around you were face-to-face with Wekapipo again, drawing a relieved sigh out from your tight throat.

“Jesus,” you breathed, a little overwhelmed, “I think you’ve prepared me as much as possible, Sir.”

“No,” he shook his head, pointing out towards the field where a man in a tall black hat was excitedly ascending the ramp onto the stage, “I mean for him.”

Dressed in deep purple garb with a matching billowing cape, the man held a long buisine trumpet in one hand and rolled up parchment in the other, signaling to you that this must be this evening’s announcer. Because you were still fairly new to Verdigris, you hadn’t been around for any events like this, and were unfamiliar with whoever this man was and just why Wekapipo seemed to be so put off by him before he’d said anything at all.

Before you could say anything or ask your mentor any other questions, the man with a mass of curly black hair sticking out from under the brim of his hat loudly blew into the trumpet, quickly silencing the crowd until you could probably hear a pin drop.

“Good evening, Verdigris!” The man continued into the trumpet, allowing each segment he spoke to echo through the area before continuing in his nasally voice. “Before the ceremony begins,” he paused, gesturing towards the courtyard entrance opposite of where you stood, “allow me, Magenta Magenta, to introduce our distinguished guests!”

On cue, a group of four emerged from the other entrance, quickly obvious to you even before Magenta continued.

“From the kingdom of Fallow, His Majesty Steven Steel!” The man in question, dressed head to toe in expensive pea green silk, waved to the crowd with a smile that only grew once his daughter was announced. “Her Highness Lucy Steel!” Just behind her father, Lucy mirrored his waving all while her arm was looped around her knight’s. Her protector was stoic, looking sternly at the crowd from under bluntly cut maroon bangs. Another knight in matching armor, slighter taller with sandy blonde hair, strode next to Steven, looking vigilantly at the surrounding area.

You were surprised you weren’t as heartbroken upon seeing Lucy with her newly appointed knight, seeing as that was where you had hoped to be. Maybe it was because the Princess looked so happy, so safe, that you felt your heart warm for her instead. It was clear, judging by body language alone, that the two were getting along incredibly well anyway, and that was what the Princess deserved.

As the group of four took their seats on the stage, Magenta continued his announcements, and a group of three emerged from the same entrance.

“From the kingdom of Watchet, His Majesty Nicholas Joestar!” Following suit, a young man in comparably modest attire stepped foot into the courtyard, oddly unaccompanied by any knight at all. If he hadn’t been announced as royalty, you’d have assumed he wasn’t, based on appearance alone. “His Highness Johnny Joestar!” Closely behind, a man wearing pastel blue and pink was guided into the courtyard via an ornate armchair with wheels by who you assumed was his knight, a tall man with a blinding smile and long brown hair tied up into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck.

Cheers erupted throughout the crowd as every royal settled themselves in their seats on stage and continued waving in greeting. Their knights, however, stayed relatively still, maintaining watchful eyes and clearly taking their duties seriously despite the fun energy of this evening.

“Finally, the kingdom of Albescent – ” Magenta started, holding up an arm as if to tease before ultimately dropping it and shrugging. “Declined our invitation!” He allowed the subsequent boo’s to fill the courtyard as he nodded solemnly. Even if his voice was a little annoying, he was, at the very least, entertaining. You turned to look at Wekapipo again and raised an eyebrow.

“He’s grating. Trust me,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, “live long enough in this castle and you’ll figure that out.”

A peek of personality from your mentor was enough to make you chuckle for a moment, forgetting that you were about to have all eyes on you.

“Okay, okay, enough!” Magenta attempted to calm the crowd, waving wildly at them until they finally quieted down again. “Worry not, because the star of the show is next!”

The quiet only lasted a second longer before the crowd understood who was next. Staring across the field, you noticed Diego standing in the opposite entryway, somehow dressed even more extravagantly than before. Even from this distance, you could sense that his attention was solely on you, and that made the nerves reappear instantly.

“Without further ado!” Magenta’s dramatic movements continued as he whipped his body around to gesture towards the man of the hour. “His Highness Diego Brando!”

If the cheers before had been loud, then this was damn near explosive. It occurred to you how strange it was that a large mass of people who would gossip and speak ill of a man would also turn around and cheer his name loudly when seeing him in person. Either way, Diego appeared to gobble it up like a hungered man. He strode across the field in soft teal and gold, his pristinely cream-colored sleeves billowing in the breeze as he held a corner of his matching cape in one gloved hand. The other waved at his people, albeit his gestures seemed to be less in greeting and much more showmanlike. A toothy grin stayed plastered across his face, but every time his eyes seemed to flick over towards you, you could sense they did not match that apparent joy.

As Diego continued his waltz across the field, you moved your attention to the stage, where the rest of the royals respectfully clapped. Everyone, you noted, besides Johnny Joestar, who only did so once his brother elbowed him in the arm and gave him an insistent look. Even then, the man’s clapping was subdued, his heart clearly not in it. Interesting.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the cheers began to die down and Diego headed for the stage’s ramp. Magenta nearly tripped over his own cape as he ran over to grasp the Prince’s hand, offering him help that he clearly did not need. Diego, however, allowed this to happen even as Magenta lifted his hand to his mouth and gave the back of it a kiss. Brief laughter came from a few audience members, and even Lucy appeared particularly amused by this dramatic act of affection.

“Isn’t he luminous?” Magenta called into the trumpet, watching as Diego took his spot on the largest seat at the center of the stage. “Shame we can’t just watch him walk around all evening.”

To that, there were only a few scattered and awkward laughs, as the joke had clearly been over several seconds ago. Even Diego seemed to roll his eyes a little, waving his hand in the air as if to say ‘get on with it’.

“Now!” Magenta reluctantly continued, facing the crowd again. “Please enjoy a brief interlude from the castle troubadours!”

A group of musicians piled in from the other end, leaving you a few minutes to destress again before ultimately having to step foot outside.

“I told him to cut that out,” Wekapipo grumbled, leaning against the brick wall with his arms crossed. “His Highness can’t stand it.”

“What? The kiss?” You asked, allowing a laugh to spill out.

“He’s infatuated, despite Sir Brando telling him he’s not interested.”

“Seems mostly harmless.” You shrugged, not knowing why you were defending a man you knew nothing about.

“Dozens of love letters and poems say otherwise,” Wekapipo muttered, and that was the end of that conversation.

As the musical act wrapped up their performance, they took a bow and exited where they’d come in. The crowd cheered, though notably not nearly as loud as they had when Diego had been announced, and then waited for what they knew would come next.

“And now!” Magenta announced, waving his arm in Diego’s direction. “The Prince has an announcement,” he paused, finally unfurling the rolled up paper and letting it hang in front of him, “...which I will be reading!”

Diego stood up from his seat, looking in your direction and nodding. Before you could wrongfully assume he was beckoning you forward, Wekapipo instead stepped foot into the field and made his way towards the Prince.

“This morning, a series of trials was put on for twenty young adults, desperate to stand at the Prince’s side and protect him with their lives!” Magenta’s voice filled the space as Wekapipo bowed his head to Diego and reached for the sword holstered at his side. “Tonight, twenty has dwindled to one, and His Highness has chosen a sworn protector!” Wekapipo handed the sword to Diego, who gently took it in his hand and kept a watchful eye in your direction. “Are you ready to meet them?!”

Your gut was twisted up into a thousand knots as you heard the resounding praise from the crowd. It was a lot, too much, but it was just one evening, You could handle this attention for one night. Just as you closed your eyes to ground yourself, Magenta loudly called your name and beckoned you forward, excitedly jumping up and down in place as you walked forward on stiff legs. You did not look at the crowd, chose to fix your eyes only on Diego. If you’d had a choice, you’d have preferred to look only at Wekapipo, but you knew your mentor would scold you for not looking at the man you were about to be sworn to for the rest of your life.

Once you were in front of him, you quickly dropped to your knees and stared up at your Prince. This was the closest you’d been to him yet, even closer than earlier today, and you couldn't help but be overcome by his beauty. The way his golden hair whipped gently in the breeze as he extended the sword out towards you had your breath caught in your throat all over again.

Everything in your ears was muddied together, overwritten by the pounding of your heart as Diego laid the flat end of the blade carefully against your left shoulder, then slowly over to your right. Once this was done, his words became clearer in your mind as soon as he spoke your name.

“Arise, for you are now a knight of the kingdom of Verdigris.”

With that, the crowd erupted again and you slowly got to your feet, trying not to let anyone see how overwhelmed you felt. Wekapipo retrieved his sword, and Diego’s hand grasped your plated forearm, instructing you to sit in one of the previously unclaimed seats on either side of him. Once Wekapipo took the other, Magenta’s announcements continued as he explained that another musical number would be performed.

So that was it. As you fought to catch your breath and tried to sit in a way that made you look more confident than you felt, a hand clapped against your shoulder and you nearly jumped out of your seat. When you turned around to look, you found the blonde knight accompanying the Steels smiling warmly and offering a ‘congratulations’. Not knowing how to react, and frankly still feeling like you were completely out of your body, you nodded in thanks and turned forward in your seat again.

As the troubadours took the field, Diego directed his attention to Wekapipo, sitting to his right. “How many more acts?”

“Just two, Sir,” the man replied, to which Diego sighed.

“Gonna be a long night,” he mumbled to no one in particular, but you certainly caught it.

You did not chance turning to fully face him, but from the corners of your eyes you studied Diego’s body language, wondering why he seemed so uncomfortable. Almost as if he wanted to go straight to his room and forgo the rest of the evening.

What had your mentor said? The details of Diego’s personality and character were not important, and if anything only detrimental to your sense of duty. You needed to remember that, but it was difficult. Diego was compelling, a puzzle you desperately wanted to figure out the longer you spent time around him. Was that dangerous? Was this partnership doomed from the start?

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you’d have yet to eat since early this morning. Now you weren’t sure if you were dreading dinner or desperate for it. You just hoped the rest of this evening wouldn’t be too exhausting.

Diego shakes his head, already dropping in bed. “I need to rest.”

You shrug your shoulders, waving your hand at him while exiting the room. You walk the stairs to the bar, humming to yourself and already thinking about a nice whiskey relaxing your body. You didn’t expect to find Johnny Joestar sitting alone at the bar, nursing a glass of clear liquid. 

“Oh, hey Joestar,” you smile, already sitting next to him. “Where’s your partner?” You looked around, looking for the other blond guy he was always with, but the bar was nearly empty. 

He lifts his head, looking for your eyes. He waves back at you as he takes another sip of his drink. “In the room. Could you believe they didn’t have any separate beds left?”

You press your lips together. “Oh, man. I think Diego and I got the last room…” You think for a moment, about the pros and cons of sharing a bed with your race partner. “I can talk with Diego and we can switch rooms!”

“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t worry about that,” Johnny says quickly, shaking his hands too. 

The conversation with Johnny flows easily after that, he’s a nice boy, you don’t really understand why Diego hates him so much, but it’s not like that keeps you up at night. Johnny tells you about the last leg of the race and how his horse nearly threw him into a snowdrift while you had a glass of something strong in your hand, the warmth spreading through your chest as you leaned against the worn wooden counter.

You lost track of time, Johnny and you complaining about your race partners, about the other contestants… Just gossiping together.

Then you felt a heavy stare burning into the side of your face. You turned your head and there was Diego, standing at the bottom of the stairs with his arms crossed tight over his chest and sharp eyes narrowed right at Johnny. 

Johnny noticed first. He gave a low chuckle and tilted his head toward your partner. “Looks like your guy’s having some trouble over there. Better go check before he starts a scene.”

You waved Diego over with a smile. “Diego? What’s going on? I thought you were too tired.”

He walked up slowly, boots scraping against the floorboards and stopped right beside you. Close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. 

“Nothing,” he muttered, his eyes flicking to Johnny like he wanted to bite. “Just figured you were taking too long. We have an early start tomorrow. Or did you forget?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you too, Brando. Didn’t know you were the type to worry about bedtime.”

Diego’s jaw tightened. “I’m not talking to you.”

He turned his pretty blue eyes on you, pride and jealousy mixed together. “I don’t like wasting time down here when we could be resting properly.”

His hand found your wrist under the bar, fingers wrapping around it a little too tight. You could see the flush on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. He was jealous, plain as day, but too stubborn to admit it outright. Diego Brando didn’t do vulnerable. He did possessive and sharp-tongued instead.

“Come on,” you said softly, setting your glass down. You gave Johnny a quick nod goodbye. “Let’s head back up. He’s right, we should rest. See ya at the finish line, Johnny.”

Diego didn’t let go of your wrist the whole way up the stairs. His grip stayed firm, thumb rubbing little circles against your skin, he needed the contact to calm down. Once the door to your room clicked shut behind you, he finally let out a breath.

“You were smiling too much at him,” he grumbled, turning to face you. He leaned back against the door, arms crossed again, but his eyes were softer now. “Johnny Joestar of all people. You know how I feel about that guy.”

You stepped closer, letting your hands rest on his chest. God, he was warm even through his shirt. “We were just talking about the race, Diego. You really came down just because I was chatting with him?”

He looked away, cheeks going pinker. “I wasn’t tired anymore. That’s all.” But his hands betrayed him, sliding around your waist and pulling you flush against him. 

You smiled and tilted your head up to kiss the underside of his jaw. “You are such a brat when you get jealous.”

"I’m not jealous. And I’m not a brat, you are," he snapped, his fingers dug into your hips instead, pulling you even closer. “I don’t like sharing your attention. You’re my partner in this race.”

You breathed out a laugh, that was his own way of saying that you were his. Diego rarely lets himself be honest or slightly vulnerable, so you kiss him properly, he melted into it immediately, hands roaming up your back under your shirt, searching for skin.

When you broke apart for air, his forehead pressed against yours. “Share the bed with me tonight, I need you.”

You nodded, already tugging at his clothes. Diego pushed you gently toward one of the beds, showing you how much he needed this. Needed you.

He was going to be a little unbearable about Johnny in the morning, you just knew it. But right now, with his mouth on your neck and his hands sliding down to grip your ass, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

a/n: i should've made him brattier ngl

You just wait, naked in bed, not even wet because nothing about Gyro seems attractive to you right now. He comes out naked, half hard and clean from all the blood. He get on top of you, using one of his legs to part yours, his leaking cock pressing into your cunt.

"Gyro," you call for him again, but his eyes are fixated on your chest, taking one of your boobs in his hand while his mouth sucks hard on the other. "Can we talk?"

"I don't wanna talk." His teeth scrape your nipple, making you gasp. "I need you. I need your body."

Gyro pushed into you hard without warm-up or gentle touches. He was lost in it, hips snapping forward with a desperate rhythm that made your breath catch sharp in your throat. His cock stretched you open too fast, the sting blooming hot and deep between your legs. You thought it would ease up after a minute, that your body would adjust like it usually did when he needed you, but he just kept going faster

His hands gripped your hips tight, fingers digging in so deep you knew bruises would bloom there by morning. Every thrust slammed his pelvis against yours, the dry slap of skin filling the room. One of his palms slid up to squeeze your tit roughly, pinching and kneading. It hurt, a dull ache mixing with the burn inside you, but Gyro did not notice. His eyes were half-lidded, focused only on the way your body took him, chasing his own pleasure like a man drowning.

"Gyro," you gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. "Slow down… it hurts."

He did not slow down. He drove deeper, breath ragged and hot against your neck, dark blond hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. The executioner who came to you broken tonight was not your soft friend right now. He was just need, raw and selfish, fucking you like your body could erase whatever blood he had washed off earlier.

"Stop," you tried again, voice tighter. Pain flared sharper with every snap of his hips, the sting refusing to fade.

He still did not hear you, lost completely in the heat of your cunt, grunting low as he chased release.

The safe word you two decided just in case escape your lips in a cry, making Gyro freeze instantly. His whole body went rigid, cock still buried deep inside you. His eyes snapped open wide, terror flooding across his face. His cock slipped out of you with a sound that made your stomach twist, the sting between your legs still burning hot.

His face… God, you'd never seen him look like that. Wide blue eyes full of pure terror, he'd just woken up from a nightmare and realized he was the monster in it. His hands hovered over your hips, shaking, not daring to touch the bruises already forming under his fingerprints.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, voice cracking. "Fuck, I'm so sorry."

You sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in your core and the tender spots on your tits where he'd gripped too hard. You don't understand what happened there, what got into him.

"Gyro," you said softly, reaching out. His hand found yours, gripping tight.

"I didn't… I wasn't there," he whispered. He kept enough distance between you so you feel comfortable. "Tell me what you need. Water? Fuck, I don't know. Don't leave."

You could see it all over him, the exhaustion that went deeper than usual. He was half-hard still, but he ignored it completely, eyes locked on your face now instead of your body. Waiting. Terrified you'd safe-word him out of your life for good.

You shifted closer, ignoring the sting for a second, and pulled his head gently toward your chest like you always did at the end of nights. "Breathe, Gyro. You stopped. That's what matters."

He let out a shaky breath against your skin, arms wrapping around your waist carefully this time, no bruising force. "I don't deserve you," he mumbled, voice muffled. "My only friend… and I treat you like that."

His body trembled a little as he clung to you. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the tension slowly bleed out of him. The rough need from minutes ago was gone, replaced by the tired Gyro you knew better. He nuzzled closer, lips brushing your collarbone softly now.

"What happened tonight?" you ask softly, the curiosity too loud in your head. "You came here covered in blood and, well, look what you did. Talk to me, Gyro."

He flinched at your words, for a moment, he thought about the possibility of telling you.

"I-I can't" he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours now. "I wish I could tell you, but it's not something I can share. Not with anyone."

You knew he carried heavy things, but this felt bigger. The blood on his neck earlier was not from some patient.

"Is it really that bad?" you pressed gently, brushing a strand of blond hair from his forehead. "You looked broken when you walked in. Let me help carry it."

Gyro shook his head, eyes squeezing shut for a second. He pulled you closer, careful now, resting his head against your chest

"If I say anything, it puts you in danger too. I won't do that to you."

He nuzzled closer, arms wrapping around you a little tighter, but still gentle after what happened. The terror in his face had not fully left, mixed now with guilt and exhaustion. You could feel how much it hurt him to keep it locked away, the weight of whatever he did tonight pressing down on both of you.

"Please, stay with me," he begged quietly. "I know I don't deserve it after hurting you, but... please."

You sighed and held him, fingers running through his hair. Whatever his real job was, he was still your Gyro.