Work Text:
The Minor Villainess Celebrates His Birthday
Each passageway is overflowing with ribbons and flowers, colors brightening the otherwise twisting corridors of the Maxwell estate. Servants move from one room to the next: adding more decorations, hiding special trinkets, plating delicious snacks. The day is bright with possibility and cheer, and everyone knows that they all must play a role to ensure its enjoyed fully.
Duo has never been so excited.
“Young Master, where shall we go next?” Helena asks.
She is trailing only a couple steps behind her boisterous charge, who has turned a stunning seven years old. Servants dart out of their way when they see them approaching, intent on seeing their assigned tasks through before Duo can catch them, so Helena makes sure to signal their approach as often as she can.
“The drawing room!” Duo proclaims loudly. “Or Papa’s office? Or Solo’s room!”
Helena can’t help but smile. “Those are in three different directions, so we’ll have to pick which one we want to see first.”
Duo’s face scrunches up in thought for a moment, and then like a new dawn breaking, it clears with a sunny grin. “Solo’s room!”
The trek there is short because Duo insists on running everywhere he can. Occasionally, another servant will stop them in order to proffer the boy different treats and small gifts, everything from dried jerky to wooden toys. Duo accepts them all with bright smiles and excited thanks, eating what he wants and passing the trinkets to Helena to carry.
By the time they reach Solo’s room, Helena has passed a stuffed bag over to another servant to carry back to Duo’s room. Duo throws open his older brother’s bedroom door without hesitation, violet eyes wide with eagerness.
Solo is already there waiting. His room is just as decorated as the rest of the estate; he’d known Duo would come, after all, and he’d been up since the early morning putting everything together. There are several large, delicately decorated chests set in the middle of the room - each one kept locked shut with an ornate, heavy padlock.
Duo beelines immediately over to them, prodding at the locks with little fingers. “What’s innit?” he asks his brother, tiny figure hovering over one of the larger chests. “If you put somethin’ small innit again, I’m not gonna come to your room anymore!”
Solo laughs, moving to his brother’s side to playfully tap at his chin. “Don’t lie, you know I always get you the best presents,” he teases. “But if you want these ones - you have to find the keys. I’ve hidden them everywhere.”
Duo’s eyes scan the room. “Here?”
“No~ope,” Solo says with a pop. “All over the house!”
Duo groans theatrically, but his violet eyes are alight with excitement at the prospect of the treasure hunt. He gives one final tug at one of the padlocks, then turns to Helena with a face she could never deny.
“C’mon, c’mon, we gotta find ‘em!” Duo said, tugging at his nanny’s hand.
Solo tugs at his brother’s long braid, momentarily stalling the excited boy’s exit. “You can’t ask the servants for help, Duo,” he says with a smile. “No cheating!”
“Helena’s just gonna follow me,” Duo pouted, before his expression changed. “I’m gonna ask Mama!”
Solo doesn’t say anything in response, only smiling as his brother dashes from the room. Helena turns to give him a fleeting look as she hurries after her charge, quiet understanding in her eyes before she leaves.
“Happy birthday,” Solo says into the quiet.
He knows Duo will hear it eventually, echoed back to him in the voices of the gone.
“Can’t it be my birthday gift?”
The words come quietly, in a petulant tone that only serves to twist the knife further into his heart. Solus doesn’t look up from his paperwork, carefully scrawling out his signature on a request for more materials.
“This and that are two different things, Duo,” Solus replies. “You must complete the lessons.”
“Lessons,” Duo echoes with a scoff. At 13 years of age, he still has that air of childish innocence: doe-eyed and petite, a pale scattering of freckles across a pouting face. The image is in direct contrast to the volatile look in those eyes, a remnant of Duo’s last session that had left him pale and shaking. “Lessons are supposed to teach me something. What am I supposed to be learning from that old fart?”
“Control,” Solus replies, immediate and cold.
Duo’s expression contorts into a grimace. “I– I have control,” he says, grit out angrily between his teeth. “I don’t even– Why can’t I just not go? For one day?”
Solus doesn’t reply.
“Dad! What’s one day?” Duo demands. “I just want one day not to be locked in that damn basement–”
“Duo, you must go to your lesson with Professor G!”
Solus does not often raise his voice with his sons. There was generally no need to; they were remarkably well-behaved. Perhaps not in the way of an austere family like that of Duke Yuy’s, but in a precocious way where they learned limits from how often they seemed to cross them. With Duo in particular, though, Solus found himself setting harder and harder lines; his youngest son was likelier to hurt himself with his ideas, unlike his brother who tended to put others at stake instead.
Duo crumbles in on himself, shoulders hunched and eyes soon filling with tears that will not spill. Solus knows what Duo wants to say - pleas to stop, demands to know why, bargains to be let out just once. But Duo, likewise, knows those words will fall on deaf ears, and so keeps them to himself as he stifles his tears.
Solus sighs to himself. Every year, it grew worse, and Solus felt the marching of time like the beat of a war drum. “Go rest in your room for now, Duo,” he says. “I’ll have the kitchen make your favorites tonight.”
Duo eventually nods, turning on his heel to flee the room. “Happy birthday to me,” he mutters under his breath.
As soon as the door shuts, the quill Solus holds snaps in two.
Multitudes of presents are stacked as tall as a grown man, all of various size, weight, and color. There’s a certain level of pomp to the wrapping, all well-chosen for the recipient, making purple the dominant choice but there was no lack of gold or silver. A strong floral perfume exudes from where they were placed, the senders knowing the recipient’s fondness of flowers prompting the decision.
It’s so perfect for the aesthetics of the person he is supposed to be that Duo has to curb the urge to throw each present into the fireplace.
There are presents from nobles looking to get into the good graces of the Maxwell family, using Duo’s birthday as an excuse to butter them up. There are presents from the ladies and dandies he mingled with at parties, an oddball collection of whatever passing whims made up their teatime discussions.
His family’s presents are somewhere in the pile. Duo knows this because Solo has taken to gifting him dead flowers, likely some sort of reminder that Duo’s purpose is as fleeting. His father’s presents are always the most numerous and the most generic; it’s as if he only knows about Duo from the compliments he receives and chooses his presents based on that.
The servants at the Maxwell state always manage to gift him something small but valuable, and Duo cannot help but feel that these presents are more likely to be presented at altars than to a person just turning eighteen.
Sorting out the presents now seems an exhausting endeavor. Without Helena–
“Young Master?”
Duo curls more into himself atop the bed. There is no point turning to look. Alone in his room with presents instead of people, Duo can just stay lounging in bed. Who would care to look for him today? As long as he stayed complacent, as long as he kept to himself…
“Young Master,” a voice calls from outside his door, along with three knocks made against the fine wood. “A gift has arrived from Master Yuy.”
Duo grits his teeth. Childishly, he almost tells them to send them back - but he can only imagine his father’s ire if he were to treat his new fiance so rudely. Duke Yuy didn’t seem to care much about Duo’s antics, especially in regards to his son, but that dismissiveness was somehow more infuriating than Heero Yuy’s patronization.
“Come in,” Duo says. Just because he doesn't want it doesn’t mean he can leave his servant out there holding it. The man is quick to enter, footsteps loud in the otherwise silent room. Duo relaxes minutely, watching the man come to a halt between where Duo rested and the small mountain of presents scattered over his lounge area. It’s obvious he’s unsure whether to present the gift to Duo directly or leave it among the others.
Duo considers it; it’s the first birthday present Heero would give him as his fiance. Curiosity wins out over disdain, and Duo motions for the present to be given to him. The servant is quick to follow, kneeling before Duo and holding up the present for his inspection.
It’s a small box, no bigger than a goblet, the wrapping fashioned according to the customs of the Yuy province: delicate black ink portraying mated swans swimming along a placid lake.
Duo takes it. Light, he thinks.
He dismisses the servant, and once alone, finally undoes the wrapping with careful hands. Opening the box reveals an ornate bracelet, inlaid with precious gems of the same color as the Yuy household’s emblem.
Duo recalls this same bracelet being on the wrist of another.
He must have consulted his father, Duo thinks with scorn.
He drops the bracelet to the floor and kicks it away.
“I don’t want to see them!”
The maids cringe at his tone, quickly stepping back and averting their eyes. They clutch at the assorted presents as if they were trying to shield themselves with them, crinkling the delicate wrapping with pale fingers.
Duo doesn't let that affect him. The servants of the Capital estate cowered just the same, and yet that fear never seemed to stop them from feigning ineptness or implying insults. The servants here at the provincial estate don’t manage that same level of contempt, but Duo hears everything.
“Put them in the Duchess’s closet.”
Hilde’s voice is calm and even, unbothered by Duo’s conduct. He may as well be a child throwing a tantrum for all that she seems to care. Maybe he is; now 21 years old and Duchess of one of the most powerful provinces in Sanc, Duo feels like a child playing pretend. Pretend power, pretend influence, pretend relationships - why does it always feel like nothing is genuine?
“Did I say put them in my closet?” Duo snaps, turning to the woman Heero had decreed as his attendant. And wasn’t that a laugh? “I said I don’t want them!”
Hilde’s gaze and voice are unwavering. “These are presents from His Grace the Duke,” she tells him placidly. “As he cannot be here to give them himself–”
“Maybe he’s too busy fucking some barbarian mistress,” Duo sneers. “I can’t even tell if his tastes run closer to his father’s or his common-born mother’s!”
Hilde does not respond. The maids are tense beside her, frozen in place in the face of his ire, though discontent flashes across their faces at his insult to their lord. They would never counter what Duo said, would never defend the man they had sworn loyalty to - but they would complain later, in the safety of their rooms or in the quiet of the corridors. Word would get around and soon everyone in the estate would mutter about Duo’s disrespectful attitude towards the man he’d married.
Good, Duo thinks viciously.
What’s one more atrocity between them?
Heart hammering in his chest, Duo tries not to give in to his urge to reach back and run his hands over the calloused hands currently clasped over his eyes. He could feel Heero’s body heat behind him as they move together, their steps in tune and light as he’s guided down the corridor.
“Almost there,” Heero whispers into his ear, a gentle breath of heat.
Duo shivers at the promise of tonight in that tone, feels Heero do the same and cannot stop the grin that widens his lips. “What are you thinking about?” Duo teases his husband, finally giving in and wrapping his hands over Heero’s wrists. “Are you thinking dirty thoughts, ‘Ro?”
He hears Heero’s quick intake of breath - an answer in and of itself.
“Please do not start,” comes Wufei’s severe voice, somewhere to the side. “I am still here and I refuse to be subjected to indecency.”
Heero’s response comes after a sullen pause. “...You can leave.”
“This can wait until after the party, Your Grace!”
Duo snickers at Wufei’s scandalized tone. He pats Heero’s hands in a consoling manner, letting his fingers drag down perhaps a little more tantalizingly than he should have going by Heero’s breathy exhale.
A door bangs open in front of them. “Hurry this up, they’re being improper!” Wufei complains loudly.
“Your face is improper!” Duo can always count on Meilan to come to his defense.
Taking a few guided steps into the room and ignoring the now waspish banter coming from Meilan and her husband, Heero pulls his hands away from Duo’s face.
The room is a shock of color, a likely result of allowing the kids in the pathway program free reign for the decorations. Ribbons and flowers pop from every available surface, as numerous as the people standing inside and outside the room. Most of the space has been cleared for easy mingling, tables pushed up against the walls and laden with food, drink, and presents.
“Happy birthday!”
The cry echoes from all corners of the room. There is a burst of flower petals thrown into the air by the most excited, though Coralina perhaps gets too excited and sends an errant elbow into Frederick’s side.
Duo feels electrified by the sheer joy coursing through him. “You guys…”
Before he can get out his heartfelt thanks, Meilan rushes forward to drag him away from a quietly pleased Heero. “Don’t get all emotional,” she tells him, pulling him towards the table laden with beverages. “Come, come - you have to drink! Grandma Meg gave us all your favorites!”
“Meilan, at least let him eat first,” Quatre intervenes, interjecting himself between them and the blessed alcohol that maybe Duo was a little too eager to try. “He can’t drink on an empty stom– Connor, you cannot drink whiskey.”
Connor, one little hand reaching out towards the glasses, quickly retracts it.
The party devolves from there. Food - more to his actual taste and thus composed of savory meats, cheeses, and fresh fruit - are pushed into his hands whenever they are unoccupied. Wine and bourbon warm his belly in turns as the kids make a game of pinning errant flowers into his hair whenever his back is turned. Servants pass in and out of the room, entering with gifts and leaving with a plate of snacks or desserts for themselves.
His friends bicker over the next game to play, over the next gift he should open, over which food or drink he needs to try next.
Heero is next to him the entire time, arm around his waist, fingers wrapped around his own or sliding through his hair.
Duo turns 23 years old with a smile on his face.
Fin.