Archive of Our Own ^beta

There were very few things he knew for certain, but the things he knew… he knew. He felt them to his core.

The first thing he ever truly understood was that he loved his father. Despite learning of all the horrors and all the despair his father caused, he loved him. He could not imagine not loving him. He supposed this is how humans felt when they loved a deity—his father created him, his father did terrible things, his father brought him comfort. Not to say he worshipped his father, but he didn’t have a lot of experiences to compare his feelings to. He thinks of Cecile from the St. Frangelico Cathedral and her devotion to Archbishop Andreus. While he is not devoted to his father in the same way, he sympathizes greatly with Cecile’s love towards Andreus despite the atrocities the Archbishop partook in. Even though his father was gone, and even though he did such horrendous things, he still longed to see him again. 

The second thing he knew was that he adored Spring. Eugénie had called him a “cat person”. He didn’t know what that meant, but if it meant he had undying affections for animals like Spring, then he assumed he was. This emotion was not as complex or profound as his feelings towards his father, but to him they were equally important. If anything he preferred this feeling because it was simple and straightforward. The elation he felt when Spring finally let him pet her had yet to be matched. One of his biggest personal goals is to have the orange cat curl up in his lap and take a nap. She already lets him pick her up, so he assumes he's heading in the right direction. 

The third thing he knew was arguably the most important. He was not Carlo Geppetto. He had pieces of Carlo, and was crafted in his image, but he was not Carlo. Sometimes he wished he was. He wished he could have given Carlo’s loved ones what they wanted. He wished he could give his ever-grieving father his lost son back. He wished he could have given The King of Puppets—no, Romeo—his friend back. Perhaps if he was Carlo, he would have understood what Romeo was so desperately trying to tell him. Maybe he could have aligned with him and found a way to help his father while also helping Krat… a way where they didn’t have to have such tragic endings. 

Sometimes he would re-play the message from Romeo. He knew the surface level emotions he was feeling—sadness, anger—but he also knew these emotions were much larger than just that. He’d heard of the emotion “grief” and wondered if that was woven into the heart sinking emotional cocktail he was feeling. “Regret” is another he’d been considering. 

Maybe if he was Carlo, he could have saved Lea. Could have saved Romeo. Could have—no. No, he can’t keep dwelling on that. He can’t keep thinking about the what-ifs and alternate scenarios. It happened. It already happened. He can’t change that. He can only use what he’s learned to make the path forward easier on everyone, himself included. 

Selfishly, he wished he’d been given a name. He knows his father didn’t give him one because he was supposed to be Carlo. He was never supposed to be his own person. But now he was. His sense of self was ever evolving and he so wished he had a name. Being called Geppetto’s Puppet felt… what was the word? Dehumanizing? The irony of him being a puppet feeling dehumanized was not lost on him. And being called Carlo made him feel like he’d been dropped in an icy lake. 

If Carlo had had a sibling, what would their name have been? Did his father ever consider something like that? He had rummaged through Geppetto’s notes and journals after his death. Looking for answers, looking for a direction, but never finding what he wanted.

He thought about the book Carlo so loved as a child, the one about the doll becoming a real boy. He thought about adopting the name of the protagonist, Pinocchio, but it never felt quite right. He never called himself that out loud, but referred to himself as such in his mind for a handful of days. He even got Gemini to chirp the name out a few times when he was reading the book. No… Pinocchio didn’t suit him. He’d considered using a shortened version of the name, Pino, but it felt too… he wasn’t sure. Childish, perhaps? It just didn’t feel right either. He even entertained the idea of simply going by P. It felt mysterious, but also kind of silly, so in the end he ruled it out.

He remembered Lea calling him a crow when she realized he kept so many trinkets from his travels. He’d looked up the word for it in his father’s native language—corvo. He liked that word. And in a world of Stalkers who went by animal names, it seemed fitting. He could be Corvo, the Stalker. It didn’t feel quite right , but it was an idea he kept on the backburner. Maybe it could be his Stalker identity even if he didn’t use it for his actual name.

Another name he’d seriously considered was Antonio. He thought he could name himself after Antonia, to honor her. She had been so kind and helpful to him, always treating him as his own person despite the ache she must have felt seeing Carlo’s face again. She also helped raise Carlo. She was one of the few people who had been present in his life and Carlo’s. A staple in the shaping of both of them. Using her name felt right. When he thought of being called Antonio, a warmth spread through him. But he was hesitant to use her name without consulting someone. He wished Polendina still remembered her.

In a similar vein, he’d thought Leo would be a decent name. A tribute to Carlo’s found family. However, he was unable to consider that name for longer than a few seconds. He felt taking the name of the Legendary Stalker was not only discourteous, but also pretentious. Who was he to take that name? It should rest with her. 

“Hey, pal?” Gemini chirped from the table he’d been set on. “It’s not unlike you to zone out, but you’ve been staring at that page for a while now.” 

He blinked, slowly coming back to his surroundings. Oh, right. He was in the hotel leafing through books. The record he put on before plopping down with his pile of literature must have stopped a while ago. 

He ran his fingers through his silver hair, a new favorite sensation of his, as he stared thoughtfully at the pile of books. “Gemini, is it…” he trailed off, not sure what words he was looking for. Weird? Bad? Silly? “...is it odd for me to want a name? To be referred to as something other than Geppetto’s Puppet?” 

The cricket puppet was silent for several long seconds. “No, I don’t think so. I have a name! So do Pulcinella and Polendina. Not to mention several other puppet’s we’ve met and heard about—Melody, Rosaura. You kind of have a special opportunity here. You get to pick your own name!” 

He nodded, feeling a spark of confidence ignite at Gemini’s words. He stood up and fastened Gemini to his belt as he walked over to the Stargazer at the center of the hotel. He listened to Romeo’s message again, and again. Once he felt he had his cadence down, he tried to imagine Romeo saying some of the names he was considering.

Pinocchio—and its nicknames—did not make him feel anything when heard Romeo say them. No joy, no sadness…it felt like he was saying the name of a stranger. Hearing what should be his name shouldn’t sound like that, especially from the lips of Romeo. Well, figurative lips—hypothetical lips. 

He’d already ruled Leo out, but he was still curious. When he thought about Romeo saying Leo, it felt like he was saying Lea, which made him feel melancholic—a word he learned yesterday, by the way, very proud of himself. That was all the confirmation he needed to know he made the right choice in vetoing that name. Hearing what would be his name should not make him an ache that painful.

He hesitated before envisioning the next name, playing Romeo’s message to Carlo once more to make sure he remembered the voice correctly. He imagined Romeo saying Antonio—calling him Antonio. The P-Organ whirred to life in his chest and he felt warmth radiating throughout his body. He can’t recall ever feeling this exact emotion before. He would describe it as a mix of many positive emotions: happiness, elation, contentedness, peace. It felt right. It felt good. Did he find it? Did he find his name? He’d been partial to this name already, but he had no one to talk to about it. Maybe Gemini? God, he wished he could get in contact with Sophia.

But…just because the others didn’t know Antonia quite as well as Polendina and Sophia didn’t mean he couldn’t ask their opinion. With a mission in mind, he meandered over to Eugénie’s workbench. He waited until she was done polishing a weapon blade to approach her. 

“Oh! What a pleasant surprise. Need a weapon tune up?” She grinned. 

He shook his head. “Not right now. I have a… complicated question.”

“Oh?” Eugénie tilted her head to the side as she regarded him with a curious expression. “What is it?” 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about myself, and… I’ve been wondering how it would be to have a name,” he murmured, suddenly embarrassed. Maybe he was being ridiculous. He should just go by GP, short for: Geppetto’s Puppet, and be happy with it. 

“A name, huh? I think that’s a great idea! It’d be nice to be able to talk about you, or even to you, without just calling you—well—’you’!” Eugénie’s smile widened, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Have you thought of a name?” 

“I think I might have already chosen one, but I don’t know if it would be in bad taste?” 

“Bad taste?” Eugénie and Gemini asked in unison. 

He felt his face warm up as he nodded. Could he blush? If he could, he was definitely blushing. He looked away from Eugénie to stare at his feet. “Lady Antonia was so kind to me, and everyone—she was very beloved… I was wondering if it would be, um, bad if I took her name. The name Antonio feels… nice.” 

“Antonio…” Eugénie said the name slowly, as if she was dissecting every syllable. She looked him up and down and repeated the name a few times quietly to herself. “I think that’s beautiful.”

“I apologize for eavesdropping, compagno, but if I may,” Venigni seemed to suddenly appear next to him. “I think Lady Antonia would have been moved beyond words to hear you wanted to honor her in such a way.” 

“Really?” He perked up, looking between Venigni and Eugénie. 

“Of course! Antonio is such a good strong name on its own, and you choosing it so carefully makes it even better. A name with a heartfelt story behind it!” 

“I agree with them,” Gemini chimed in. “It’s a good name. A great name, even!” 

“Do you think Polendina, well who he was before he reset, do you think he’d be upset?” He asked the question to everyone, but turned to look at Pulcinella. 

Pulcinella bowed ever so slightly before speaking up, “I feel like I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have thought the idea wonderful. He knew Lady Antonia’s time was nearing an end, and he would have wanted her memory—her legacy—to be carried on.” 

“I have to agree wholeheartedly with my good friend Pulcinella!” Venigni turned to his butler with a wide smile. 

A wave of relief washed over him and he found himself smiling more than he thought he ever had before. Having the blessing of his friends erased any remaining doubt he had. He was going to use the name Antonio! He was so excited to be able to introduce himself to people. He could finally be something— someone— more than Geppetto’s Puppet! More than a ghost of Carlo! He was forging his own way in life, and he was thrilled to see what lay ahead. He had so many choices to make; so many things to do! Who would have thought having a name all your own could make him feel so euphoric. 

Before tackling all of that though, Antonio had a pressing matter to attend to. He had to go find Spring and give her a good, celebratory cuddle.