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The little box—navy blue with a white ribbon wrapped around it—sits innocently in his hands.
“He personally entrusted this to me and asked it be kept secret until this month, after the Great Twilight was over.” Emperor Eugent nods with a reassuring smile, subtly shifting his leg against the red carpet of his chamber in Valflame Palace.
Rean takes another look at it. Size smaller than his palm, ribbon off center, a cream coloured card attached to it containing a simple signature in deep black ink, a capital G in cursive that no one would ever mistake.
Considering the approaching date in this month of May, it’s easy to guess what this is for.
It dregs up that bundle of emotions he hesitates to touch, too tender despite that strange dream from a leftover photograph that refused to burn, unsure of whether he could approach anyone with it, when he has caused so much pain to their nation, ruled over everyone with blood and iron in order to eradicate a curse that threatened to destroy the whole of Zemuria.
(When he threw Crow’s life into disarray and changed it forever.)
He’ll deal with that later.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He bows. When he comes up, he manages to keep a polite smile.
Emperor Eugent closes his eyes for a moment, thoughtful.
“I understand your reservations, but if I may interject…” The Emperor of Erebonia leans back on his feet, his cape swishing with the movement. He hurriedly nods for him to go on. “I’ve said before that each of us are privy to his different sides. You may consider this another piece of insight to the side he only shows you.”
The Emperor sees him as that same friend that supported him those years ago, he would think of him well despite what the public says, what anyone else says.
What about Rean, who has only seen mere glimpses of him from a magical mirror guarded by the Witches?
“I will take your words to heart.” He tightens the grip on the little present, hiding it from sight.
“That is all I ask.” Emperor Eugent nods and dismisses him with a wave.
He leaves Valflame Palace, turning around for one last look at the building that his dad considered his workplace. The tall towers connected to the main structure, corridors upon corridors of cold marble leading from one spacious room to another, illuminated by the sun streaming through large, clear glass panels, a show of power and intimidation.
(Briliant crimson hews to the back of his eyelids, vestiges of a forbidden melody against his eardrums, oppressive heat bearing down as a body grows cold in his arms.)
“Happy Birthday!”
Elise said it the moment he stepped a foot onto Ymir, Luke and the other townspeople following suit as they made way to the mansion, Mom and Dad next as they welcomed him home with their signature bear-like hugs, and Crow whispered it into his ears when he finally got a chance to slot his arm over his shoulders and nuzzle his cheek.
Rean’s special day has been spent juggling between everyone who wanted to celebrate. Class VII (minus Crow) gathered in Heimdallr for breakfast before he went to pay respects to the Osborne grave in the suburbs, grabbing a quick lunch on the train ride to Ymir while fending off various messages on his ARCUS from his friends, collaborators and acquaintances.
(The students and faculty of Branch Campus celebrated the night before, excited to be the first ones to congratulate him the moment the clock struck midnight.)
Leaving the rest of the day for his family.
Mom has a feast prepared for dinner with everyone’s help. Dad bought new fishing gear for him, Elise embroidered a new handkerchief to replace the one he’s been using since he was a child, and Crow…
Crow’s present is a pendant. The red crystal to match the blue one he’s been wearing more and more often, a reminder of their bond no matter how far they may be.
He clips it behind his neck without a word.
By the time he finally has a moment to himself, it’s after dinner. He retires to his room, sighing as he sits on his bed.
He eyes the box left on the nightstand beside the radio. The presence that has been hesitating on the other side of his door knocks.
“It’s open.”
Crow comes in, shooting him a cheeky grin as he closes the door behind him. “Mind ol’ Crow giving you some company?”
Rean pats the space beside him in lieu of answering. His partner sits beside him, taking his hand to intertwine their fingers.
“How’s your day been?”
“You know how it went.” Rean leans his head onto his shoulder.
Towa texted him yesterday about the Branch Campus’ party and Fie was the one that reported their breakfast get-together. Not because he asked them to, their friends are simply nosy and wanted to keep him in the loop.
“Yeah, but did’ya have fun?”
“Mhm. A little tiring, haha.”
He’s not used to being showered in attention, nor how happy it makes him feel, the warmth spreading from his heart to his entire body. It’s nice. Very different from the past, how he was so used to taking it and shutting it away, because he wasn’t worthy.
He closes his eyes and enjoys the moment. The whirr of the air-conditioner above them, the contentment from the birthday wishes and presents, the warmth of Crow as his partner hooks his arm around his waist while rubbing his knuckles under the pads of his fingers.
He receives a peck on the back of his eyelid, giggling at how it tickles.
Words aren’t needed between them. They’ve been through enough to know when to enjoy the silence and let their presence speak for itself.
Crow’s heartbeat steadily thumps along, his breathing calm and even. He’s so glad his partner understands his needs and doesn’t hesitate to help him with it.
His partner, the one he’s chosen. Is it the same for the Osbornes? Did they choose each other? How did they meet? Were there nights where Dad was too tired and Mom simply comforted him like this? Them sitting side by side in the couch of the living room, the wind blowing in from an open window, rustling the curtains.
Questions that might never be answered.
The Osborne family…
There’s one last present he hasn’t opened yet.
Crow pats his head. “What’s up?”
Can’t hide from him, can he?
“His Majesty passed me a present a few days ago. From him.” Rean avoids his name, unsure how his partner would feel upon hearing it again, considering… everything.
Crow hums, combing his hair and betraying nothing. “Guess ya haven’t opened it?”
“No.”
“What’cha waiting for then?”
Rean straightens as he opens his eyes. Red. Crow’s red eyes sparkle with understanding, a casual grin, no tension or stress in sight.
He looks away. “It’s…”
Crow tut-tutts, touching his cheek with two fingers and pulling him back to him, making him face those eyes again.
“Don’t worry about me.” The ex-terrorist pecks his cheek, then pats his shoulder. “Go ahead, c’mon.”
Rean takes in a deep breath, nods. He leans over and grabs the navy blue box, leaning his side against Crow as he rubs one smooth end of the white ribbon under his fingers. Crow stares at it, humming once and nothing else.
“I-I’ll start now…” Rean announces. He waits until his partner nods, then undoes the ribbon.
He’s greeted by a small piece of paper that unfolds into a short letter written with the same deep black ink, some of the words smudged at the ends, bits of ink scraped against the margins.
Dear Rean,
Happy Birthday. Whether you are celebrating with friends or the Schwarzers this year, I hope you have a wonderful time.
This present is an item I have carried with me since the day you were born. Consider it a charm, as one of the only things left from that house that burnt down on that fated day. It is from your mother’s collection. I believe you will understand its significance.
I Please There is no need for you to forgive me for what I’ve done. I will atone for my sins at the Goddess’ side.
Again, Happy Birthday, Rean.
With Love,
Giliath Osborne.
“What does it say?” Crow asks, his voice muffled by the top of his head, making him feel the vibrations more than hearing his words.
“It’s just wishing my birthday well, and that this present was from Mom’s collection.” He folds the paper and puts it aside, moving to lift the paper covering the aforementioned present underneath.
“What collection—… Huh.”
A mira coin.
Rean plucks it out of its bed and places it on his palm. A silver 1 mira coin scratched from wear and tear, the year 1186 is minted at the bottom edge. The year he was born.
His Dad carried this around, probably in a hidden pocket on his military uniform, a little charm he either took from Mom’s collection or she gave it to him.
Mom had a collection of mira coins? Why? Did she find the different designs worthy as a keepsake and wanted them all? Or was it more of a casual collection, slowly amassed over the years? Was it a tradition? From the Osborne side of the family or the side of her maiden name?
Would she have gotten along with Crow? Would she approve of him? As his partner, as his future family?
“Shhh.” Crow coos as he pats his head.
Why? It's not like he's—
Oh. His face is wet, he didn't notice. He blinks and the tears drip, craving a path down his cheeks and rolling off his chin.
“I-I'm sorry…” He shakes his head, gripping the 1 mira coin, grooves digging into his palm.
“Sorry for what?” Crow combs his hair, sounding genuinely confused.
“F-for being sad and grieving when he—”
“None of that.” Crow puts a finger over his lips. “My grudge ‘s got nothing to do with your feelings. He did horrible things, but he's your dad.”
It doesn't give him the excuse to dismiss all of Crow's pain. It's not like he was a good Dad to him, using him by putting him on a pedestal with the label ‘Ashen Chevalier' and parading him around as some sort of War Hero, doing the curse’s bidding, treating him as coldly as another pawn, wholly unlike the Schwarzers. Sure, he might not have had the chance for anything else, being observed by Black Alberich and Ishmelga at every turn—
“Listen.” Crow's voice is deeper, serious. Rean holds his breath. “Ya think my Pops didn't have to do horrible stuff as Mayor of Jurai?”
He… did? He never thought much about it. Maybe a Mayor of such a city would have to make his own hard choices, possibly, then as his grandson…
“I still mourn him. Get what I'm sayin’?”
He releases that breath and nods, pressing his lips against the finger in front of them.
“So there's no need to feel bad, ‘kay? Death is hard enough to deal with as it is.” His kind, generous, understanding senior leans back to peck the side of his head.
Rean gently prods Crow’s chin to his direction and leans in, kissing him. “I’ll… I’ll try.”
Crow nods, then looks down to his fist. “What’re ya gonna do with it?”
Great question. He loosens the fist and stares at the innocent coin on his palm. He already carries around the 50 mira coin that started the interest pile between them in his coat pocket, adding this to that wouldn’t be much of a bother, beyond the clinking sounds each time they knock into each other…
“Any ideas?” He leans his head on his partner’s shoulder.
The ex-terrorist—the leader who had a grudge against his Dad and was willing to throw his life away for it—hums for a moment, rubbing nice circles on his back. If he purrs, no he didn't, it's comfortable.
“How ‘bout…” Crow trails off, looking in another direction downwards.
Rean follows his gaze to… His own chest where the red crystal pendant he received from him earlier today sits against his shirt.
“That could work…” he mutters to himself, fiddling with the coin. It's light enough, and with some adjustments here and there alongside a sturdy chain, it should turn out nice. Though… “How…?”
“Need ol' Crow's help?” His partner pats his head and ruffles his hair.
He shakes his head. “I want to do this myself. I won't mind if you teach me?”
“Oh how the tables have turned.” The person that never graduated grins and chuckles. “Don't worry, I'll give ya a whole rundown! Call me Instructor Crow~”
“Thank you.” Rean grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing, leaving the 1 mira coin beside the radio. “I hope your lessons will be fruitful, Instructor Crow.”
Crow widens his eyes, taking a moment to to recover and licking his lips. “Using that in your bedroom… you askin’ for it?”
Rean shoves his face away. “Crow, no! Mom and Dad are downstairs!”
The air dissolves into laughter, and they spend the rest of his birthday night enjoying each other’s presence, eventually moving to sit on a hill of snow as they watch the stars.
“I’m so sorry, Instructor!”
Tita bows despite black oil covering her from head to toe. Rean chuckles, looking at his ARCUS screen reflecting himself in a similar state.
He had visited the hangar for a routine checkup on his Tyrfing when he spotted Tita having trouble with another soldat’s maintenance. He assisted her by handing her the tools she needed, until a series of unfortunate accidents caused a puncture in her oil container, spraying and drenching them both.
Which brings them here.
“It’s okay, it was an accident.” He chuckles as he takes off his heavy coat, more black than white at this point.
Their resident engineer isn’t usually this clumsy, though he heard from the grapevine that she’s been excited for a call with several friends from Liberl tonight. Not hard to imagine her giddiness giving birth to this.
He works on unzipping his vest while she begins taking off her jacket, placing it on her arm as she points to his coat. “I’ll help you clean it!”
He was planning to hand it off to Franky for deep cleaning, but since she insists…
“Thank you.”
He holds it out and she takes it, her eyes landing on his chest.
“Instructor, I didn’t realize you wore pendants.”
Rean looks down and sees what she means, the red crystal hanging beside the welded 1 mira coin. He must’ve taken it out while taking off his layers out of habit.
He holds it up for her to get a closer look. She leans forward, sounds of awe escaping her.
“They were gifts from people equally as important to me, so it was only fair to have them beside each other.”
Tita shoots up, straightening, fists held up to her chest.
“I understand! My best friend and my parents gifted me similar sets of tools, I couldn’t decide to use either one of the other, so I mixed them up so I can use them equally!”
He remembers Mint telling him of her dilemma, asking how he would advise her in that situation, before she came up with that solution and presented it to her. Problems of their resident mechanics.
“Maybe I should make one for her…” Tita mutters to herself with a finger against her cheek.
“Do you have a design in mind?” Rean asks as he lets go of the pendant.
She goes on a tangent about the ideas she's been considering. He listens to her every word, absentmindedly fidgeting with the coin and the red crystal, thinking of the family that have supported him since his birth, and the one he chose.