Legends -- Diarmuid's Past | A fate/zero Diarmuid x Reader fanfiction

III. Piano

It had been almost a week since you'd worked at the bakery, long enough to know that Sam and Bessie's bakery was one of the most popular in town, and their best product was this bun they called a 'chocolate spiral bun'.

You'd tried it before, a spiraling piece of sugared dough baked to perfection, chocolate chips dotting the bread, chocolate cream oozing out of the middle. It was pure bliss. I could see why it was so popular; from its taste to its creative shape to its smell. It was enough just to look at it and feel fat, but it was so worth it, so satisfying.

The other weird thing was, in the few days you'd stayed with Sam and Bessie, that this town was the same setting as the one in my vision, the one where the hot guy met some girl. You wondered why, and how you could return to my original life. You were beginning to miss my family and friends, as much as you'd like to stay here. Plus, you didn't want to break two old people's hearts.

The last thing was, every single night, that vision replayed over and over again in your dreams, as clear as day, but after you woke up in the morning, the story became hazy again, and you couldn't recall much of it, as much as you would like to. The whole vision was blurry, but one thing you could make out very, very clearly was the way the hot guy looked at you, the way he looked at you in your dreams which made goosebumps appear, his dark eyes staring intensely at you. You thought about him a lot as you worked, daydreaming about him before Bessie or Sam interrupted you politely to remind you gently of something.

It was yet another ordinary day, the sky the colour of a summer sky's blue, the cumulus clouds fading in and out of vision, and Bessie and Sam had let you of duties for a little bit. So that was how you were lying down peacefully in a meadow, staring at the grass and sky and thinking about life. The serenity made you feel at ease.

You suddenly spotted a piano, a grand piano, yes, a real life grand piano just sitting in the meadow right out there in the open. You rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were dreaming, but yes, it was still there.

You walked forward for a closer look, recalling your vague memories of playing the piano when you were younger. The grand piano was white, dusty, and well, it was a piano. You opened the cover and removed its coverlet, then slipped your fingers across the smooth, worn, black and white keys. Almost unnaturally, yet unconsciously, you began to play Canon in D.

Once you finished the song, you turned around and got the shock of your life. The hot guy in your dreams - Diarmuid, was standing right there, as handsome as ever, taller than you'd remembered, but it was definitely Diarmuid. You gasped and started to get up, but his hand reached out, as if to say that he came in peace.

"You play the piano well." he said, his voice deep and husky, making you shiver in delight and excitement. You wondered where he was from.

"W-well, yes. When I was little."

Diarmuid smiled widely. "I've always admired people who could play the piano. I've always wanted to learn how to play one."

"It's really not that difficult. You just need lots of practice,"

"Still, that's pretty neat."

"T . . . Thanks?"

Diarmuid smiled again, and despite the fact that you were just strangers, and didn't know anything about each other, for that one romantic moment, it didn't feel awkward, it felt like we knew each other since forever; and you fell head over heels in love with Diarmuid.

A horn blew, splitting the tranquil air with its alarming volume. Diarmuid instantly straightened his posture and nodded at me. "I've got to go. See you . . . maybe?"

"Yeah . . . sure?" You felt so dazed you could barely register the fact that he actually wanted to see you again.

"That's a promise." Diarmuid gave me a brief, but sincere smile, and strided away confidently. You were left in the meadow alone, heartbeat rapid and thumping.

You tried your best to calm down your heart and took a couple of deep breaths. After a bit, you checked the time, shocked to find out it was past 10! And you promised to back at the shop by 10. The meadow was a pretty far distance from the bakery. You'd be almost half an hour late! Instantly, you picked up your skirts and dashed back among the cobble streets.

For some reason, the streets which you took back to the bakery seemed a little deserted. Most that were walking on the street made their way to the loud roar of noise that seemed a few streets away, but you didn't have time to look; you focused on getting back to the bakery.

Panting, you reached the bakery a little before half past ten. Bessie looked up from a cake which she was carefully frosting, a little alarmed. You pushed open the door and gasped out an apology to her.

"Oh dearie, there's no need to apologize! I assume you've been looking at the parade?"

"Parade?" you stared at Bessie blankly.

"Well yes, dear, the parade. Our country won the war against Kadanaq, a little unexpected and sudden, but yes, we won. The army's marching back to the palace, and they call it a victory parade. It's quite exciting to watch, and perhaps you'll spot the Heroic Forces if you're lucky. Sam just popped out for some business; be sure to expect lots of work later - this offer's particularly large, and the pay is wonderfully large."

You tried to keep up with her. "The . . . Heroic Forces?"

"Well, yes, dearie, the Heroic Forces. Handpicked of the young army by none but the king himself, proven through several battle tournaments and wrestling matches of gore and violence, but that's their hard work paid off; the Heroic Forces are one of the most respected folk in our kingdom, and even others know of their might. You don't see them often."

You wondered if Diarmuid would be in the parade. You suddenly felt really excited to go. "Well, I know I've been late back for work and everything, but if you wouldn't mind, please may I see this victory parade?"

Bessie must have been in a really good mood. "You're more than welcome," she replied, beaming hugely. "But take out some flyers and samples for the customers - Sam wants to increase a little popularity,"

"Wait - seriously! Did you just say - "

"Yes, dearie, enjoy yourself while you can. It's not everyday you see a victory parade, although they happen fairly often,"

"THANKS!"

You rush out of the door frantically, brushing at the blades of grass caught in your hair and white dress. You remove your soft summer slippers that Sam purchased generously for you and run along the cool grey cobblestone tiles barefoot. You follow the roar of noise several streets away and reach the parade.

You saw a huge crowd gathered, obliterating most of your view, and after a soft cursing, you used your slight, petite figure to slip through the bustling people. Pretty soon, you'd gotten to the front. However, you still couldn't see much, being completely at the front, all you see were mostly bright colours and floats and flags and an ear-splitting fanfare playing noisily from a marching band beside the floats.

Darting away quickly, you got an idea. Without thinking it through, you began to climb some water pipes on a wall. You panicked a little at first, but you were light enough so the pipes could bear your weight, and the pipes were laid in such a way so you were able to find footing rather easily. You didn't look down and pressed closer to the wall, moving steadily upwards all the time.

You reached the roof, where you got a perfect top view of the parade, and the wind blew at your messy hair and crumpled dress gently, nipping at your cheeks and playing with the edge of your dress. You breathed in deeply, and watched the parade. All that time, you kept your eyes out for only one person - Diarmuid.

You spotted him standing on a float, waving to the crowd energetically, and almost as soon as he made an appearance, the crowd burst into applause and cheered furiously. Seeing his happy grin, a smile unconsciously crept on to your face.