Work Text:
Julian sat in a dim corner of The Rowdy Raven. He was nursing his fourth? Wait no. Fifth Salty Bitters of the night. He planned to try to drink one for every year he’d lived. He’d made it a tradition to at least attempt the feat. This is how he planned to spend his birthday, as quietly and drunk as possible. There was no use making a fuss, it was a risk to do so. The only two people who really cared about him were at the palace and more than likely unable to slip away from the Countess.
He wanted to see Pasha. His darling sister, so many birthdays they’d missed celebrating together. He missed her growing up, and now she was missing him grow another year older. He couldn’t help but wonder that, if he had not been accused of the Count’s murder, would she be sitting here next to him, pointing out grey hairs that may or may not actually be there?
That brought another though to his mind as he drained his stein. What about her? The apprentice? Would she be opposed to helping him celebrate? Granted, he hadn’t known her long, but he had developed a particular fondness for her. It wasn’t often that you’d help someone who broke into your home on a regular basis. And yet, she hadn’t told the palace about Mazelinka’s, she hadn’t called the guards down on his head, and she was actively trying to help him figure out the forgotten past. He smiled sadly, huffing before beginning to rise and fetch another Salty Bitters. They were disgusting, but in a comforting way.
Before he could leave the booth, a full glass was sat on the table by a very familiar hand. He looked up slowly, afraid it was a case of mistaken identity, but his gaze was greeted by the smiling face of the apprentice. Before he could say anything, she began to sing. He couldn’t believe what it was either, the song from Nevivon, in his mother language. The words flowed from her lips, choppy but still beautiful.
He felt the tears before they spilled in hot rivulets down his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them, shock and overwhelming happiness sending his emotions into turmoil.
The apprentice reached out, cupping his cheek in her palm and wiping away his tears with her thumb as she finished the song. They had attracted some attention with the display, but most of the crowd who hung around the Raven had no incentive to call the guards, and so they all returned to their drinks as the apprentice slid into the booth next to a still teary Julian.
“Portia told me it was your birthday…” Their voice was soft and soothing as they continued to hold his cheek and Julian wasn’t inclined to move their hand away, savoring the human contact, the affection. “She also asked me to give this to you.” The apprentice produced a beautifully wrapped box from within her cloak with her free hand, other still caressing Julian’s cheek. “She couldn’t sneak out with me. Being Nadia’s favorite and most trusted servant makes it too obvious if she disappears.”
Julian nodded, taking the ornately wrapped gift into his hands as the apprentice withdrew her palm from his face. The tag on the box read ‘To Ilya, with love from your sister on your birthday.’ Portia’s script was beautiful, almost art itself, especially when compared to his own.
“Go on. Open it.” The apprentice encouraged him, small smile quirking her lips. Julian ripped the paper carefully, trying to preserve the note. Once he had it unwrapped, he opened the box under the paper only to be greeted by a lump of fabric and a leather-bound journal, the cover etched with swirling designs. Julian removed the journal, thumbing through it and noting it was blank. He set it aside and pulled the fabric from the box, shaking it out to full size. Tears threatened to seize him again as he immediately recognized the handiwork woven into the blanket. It was from home. Probably made by his own mother. He brought the fabric to his face for a moment, hoping to catch a whiff of home, but all he could smell was the palace. Disappointing, but it was enough to just have a piece of home.
“I-I can’t thank you enough. Risking yourself to come out here and bringing me all of this…” Julian’s voice was strained and cracked as he spoke. He looked just about ready to cry again but his teary eye was absolutely radiant with happiness. She raised a finger to his lips, silencing what would likely be a rant about being unworthy. From within her cloak she produced another gift. This one just a velvet drawstring pouch. He took it silently, looking at her for permission to open it. She nodded with a smile and watched him untie the strings. Inside the bag was a few sachets of herbs, mostly for protection and going unnoticed, a small statue of a raven wearing a plague doctor mask, and an entire canister of smoky tea leaves.
He set all of them on the table and pulled the apprentice forward into a tight hug, his arms wrapped around her shoulders like a vice. She returned the hug with a soft laugh.
“Thank you so much!” Maybe he was tipsy, maybe it was just the giddiness of having someone to celebrate his birthday with, but Julian felt five years younger and like he was walking among the clouds rather than sitting in a dingy pub.
When he pulled away from the hug, she pressed forward, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Happy Birthday, Julian. To your birth yesterday,” She kissed him again, beginning the traditional Vesuvian birthday toast, “your health today,” another kiss, this one longer, “and your death a million tomorrows away.” She kissed him again, this time coaxing his lips apart to kiss him deeply. When they came away for air, both of their faces were flushed and a few of the other bar patrons whistled. One called out, “It’s my birthday too!”
The apprentice shot them a crooked smile and retorted, “Sorry, I’m only celebrating one man’s birth tonight.” Julian flushed and pulled her back in for another heated kiss, it would be a happy birthday indeed.