I wrote this a little while ago after reading a post about mutual pining where one person has been pining for years and thinks that person isn’t interested and the other to finally realise their feelings but think they’ve missed their chance, which is pretty much my headcanon for Nelda and Aloth before they get together in deadfire. 

Also it took Aloth 72 real world hours to like Nelda even a little bit, so I don’t feel too bad for making him feel jealous. 

It was late one night when Aloth looked up from jotting in
his grimoire as Nelda staggered out of her cabin and headed shakily up to the
deck.

He’d seen that expression before, back in the Dyrwood when
she wasn’t sure of what she was seeing was real, and more recently these days after
a consultation with the gods had left her with bad news.

Aloth laid his grimoire on his bunk and rose to follow her.
He knew that it helped her to have someone to talk to in moments like this, or
at least someone to keep her in silent company. He had many fond memories of
doing just that, memories he didn’t realise he treasured until years had passed. He liked being able to do that for her. 

But when he got on deck, he discovered that he wasn’t the
only one to notice Nelda’s melancholic state. Tekēhu had already joined her
where she stood at the railing, leaning close to her.

His voice didn’t carry, but Aloth could easily see when he
shaped a little fish out of water and displayed it to Nelda like it was an
amazing feat and not something he did a dozen times a day.

He did hear it when Nelda laughed, brief but genuine, and reached
out to the fish as if she was petting it, before she dashed her hand through it
to splash Tekēhu with the water. He tossed his head back as he laughed, and
then curved his body closer to Nelda, in what appeared to Aloth to be an unnecessarily
intimate way to counteract their height difference.

Tekēhu bent his head even closer and Nelda shook her own in response
to whatever he’d said, resting her hand on his arm. Tekēhu laughed again, in a gentler
way than his usual annoyingly boisterous one, and pulled her into a hug.

Even though he knew that he was intruding, Aloth found he
couldn’t stop staring, both of them glimmering under the moonlight in a way
that just looked right somehow, looking comfortable with each
other, looking like they were…

He shook his head, trying to ignore the tightness knotting
in his chest. Certainly, he thought that Nelda could do a lot better, but it
was truly none of his business. It shouldn’t make him feel like, like this, to see them together.

It shouldn’t bother him, but Aloth still remembered the way she had said that she had once
thought that there might be something between them, her voice caught somewhere
between rueful and hopeful, before turning regretful when he had done nothing
but stutter in reply. He’d turned it over in his head often since then, trying
to make sense of it, trying to understand the little jolt he felt every time he
remembered her words.

He’d half wondered if she’d been joking at the time, but he
knew that while she might tease him, she wouldn’t lie.

She’d meant it, but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t change
her mind.

You’re jealous.

It had been five years since he’d heard a voice in his head,
but this was all him, not Iselmyr.

Aloth was jealous.
He wanted – well, he still wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted, but he knew that didn’t want
to be looking at the two of them any longer.

He ducked out of sight and headed back below deck, the tight
knotted thing in his chest turning empty and aching instead.