What's In a Name?
Word Count: 1041


The days after he meets Chronos and she purifies him are long.

His mind is a haze of dots that don’t connect, missing puzzle pieces that are worn and fuzzy and even if he had them, he doesn’t think they’d fit properly any longer. He knows almost nothing about himself, outside of the fact that he was once part of the negaverse under the guise of man who went by Captain Aluminite and that he never, not really, felt devoted to the cause.

He cannot remember a single thing about the person he was outside of the negaverse either. Well, except for one thing.

He had a sister, Jackie, who is now dead. Because of him.

That knowledge alone is terrifying and guilt wraps around his heart like a vice grip, makes it hurt every single time it beats, but he deserves that he thinks. Being Aluminite caused so many pain, it’s only fair that he lives with some of his own in the aftermath.

A kind, bleeding-heart of a woman takes him in. He doesn’t really know how he came to be under her care, feels a bit like a toy that’s passed around before it can settle some place, but she smiles kindly at him and opens her home to him. He’s grateful certainly, even if he can’t help but feel off-kilter and out of place.

In his attempts to communicate with her - her name is Fiona Watson, he learns - he discovers that he’s French and
that while she speaks some it’s nothing more than the basics and while he knows he speaks English, everything starts French and translating his thoughts is more difficult than he expects.

He thinks that maybe his brain is a little more scrambled in the aftermath of purging chaos from his soul than expected.

Still, Fiona tries and he’s grateful.

Nearly a week has passed since he’s come to live with Fiona and he’s no closer to deciding anything about his new life and new identity than he was when he first came to reside with her.

There are few things that he is certain of;

One, that his princess is Chronos and he would go to the ends of the earth to protect her.

Two, he is Midgard, Squire of Chronos - yet he doesn’t know a thing about what being a squire entails.

And three, he was once Captain Aluminite of the Negaverse and he has the deaths of at least three people that rest heavy on his conscious.

He also knows that he needs to stop dawdling and decide on some sort of name to go by, if only because Fiona doesn’t know how to introduce him or explain anything about him without a name. So, he does that feels natural to him.

He turns to literature.

There’s something utterly calming about being in the expansive library that Fiona’s house holds. There are shelves lining every wall that reach up to the ceiling and a rolling ladder has a home nestled in the corner of the room for the books on shelves too tall for her to reach.

He thinks that this is a bibliophile's dream room.

Fiona’s selection of books is vast, but he cannot help but wish that she had more books written in French because while he knows the English words, it would be so much easier…

Still, he settles on a book called Stardust and spends a few hours curled up in one of the lounger chairs in the room with his long legs curled against his torso. Reading is a slow process, green eyes sliding across the words with his lip between teeth as he worried down on it.

Something about the main character speaks to him and when he finishes the book, he has finally settled upon a name.

Tristan, because the novel features a protagonist who learns that not everything is what it seems and that he can grow from it.

That’s what he wants.

His past does not define him and he can build a future.

Picking a first name is merely a start, he still has an entire life to construct and rebuild but, this is a step in the right direction, he thinks.

When Fiona gets in that night, he’s in his room, sitting cross legged on the bed with one of the Harry Potter books in his lap. Reading them gives him a strange sense of deja vu, because he knows that he’s read them before - the words too familiar for even his foggy mind to forget.

“Comment allez-vous?” She asks in tentative, silted french.

Tristan - it’s strange having something to call himself that is neither the man who once was Aluminite or Midgard, Chronos’ loyal squire - looks at her with consideration before he speaks, words spoke carefully and like he’s been practicing. “Better.”

Fiona looks startled and it garners a small grin from her ward.

“I...I picked a name,” he tells her, smile widening because he doesn’t have much to be proud of, but he’s proud of this.

His companion lights up and somehow the sight seems to ease the tight coils around his heart. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” she replies, leaning against the door frame. “What did you pick?”

Tristan smooths his hands on his jeans and closes the book in his lap, swallowing because he’s suddenly nervous though he knows there is no reason to be. “Tristan.” A pause and the inhale of a shaky breath. “Tristan Lestrange.”

Fiona considers his face and it takes more willpower to keep from looking away but she nods and says, “that’s a good name.” When she says it, he can hear that she thinks it’s a good name because he picked it and not for any other reason. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes if you’d like to join us,” she offers, easing off the door.

“I...think I will. Thank you,” he says in the slow and quiet way he’s developed for any time he’s pushing English first.

Tristan’s never joined them for dinner, but he thinks that he ought to because what better way to celebrate his new name, new identity, than with new friends?