Chapter Text
It had been many years since Arkanath celebrated her birthday. Birthdays were quite useless as a mercenary; there was no way to celebrate in secrecy. She hadn’t even remembered telling the merry band of travellers her birthday- not like the twentieth of November seemed like an important date to keep in mind.
“Happy birthday, Arkanath!” Raligon had exclaimed, his soft voice melodic as he hummed the tune of ‘Happy Birthday’. In his arms, a basket of some sort of buns, baked to a crisp golden brown. Where he had gotten the ingredients, Arkanath had no clue, but that was far from the only thing she was confused by.
Before she could respond to the surprise, Raligon had begun speaking once more, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Do you not like it? I’m sorry if I overstepped, I didn’t know if-“
Arkanath shook her head hurriedly, her tail flicking behind her slightly. “No, I… Thank you, Raligon.” She gave a soft smile, an expression her face clearly wasn’t accustomed to, noted by the way her fangs awkwardly poked into her bottom lip. “I honestly… forgot.”
Raligon tilted his head like a curious dog, wrapping his arms around the basket he was holding. “You forgot it was your birthday?” He questioned, though stopped himself as he noticed the slight shift in Arkanath’s expression. “Th-that’s okay! I’ll just have to remember for you!”
She smiled slightly at the remark, one that looked much more natural. Reaching out towards the basket, she picked up a bun, holding the warm bread in her hand. “What are these?” Arkanath asked, her tone perhaps a hair too blunt.
“You should try it first! Well, unless you don’t like surprises…” Arkanath shook her head, bringing the soft bread to her lips, her fangs sinking into it with a certain aggression she attempted to counteract with slow movements, savouring the taste in small bites. It was slightly sweet, a pleasant difference from the food they usually enjoyed. As she took another bite, a mix of something far more sweet and slightly tart surprised her, quite enjoyably so.
“That’s… This is very good, Raligon.” Her expression was nearly neutral, and she hoped Raligon could read her well enough to see her gratitude.
“I can’t take all the credit,” He lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning in slightly. “It was Brandon’s idea to add the jam.” He eyed the man in question, who was walking - well, floating - by the small stream their camp was near.
“You can thank him on my behalf. I can’t believe he’ll admit anything if I bring it up.” Arkanath whispered back. Raligon laughed at that, motioning for Arkanath to follow him to the centre of their camp, where a pile of used firewood sat.
“Arkanath!” A voice shouted out, loud and recognizable as Aslan. Arkanath’s ears turned towards the sound and her gaze quickly followed. Helga and Walther trailed behind him, the former with a giddy smile on her face, clearly telling the young boy to hide something behind his back. “Happy Birthday!”
She let out a small sigh, her posture loosening a bit, the hackles on her tail which rose from the loud noise flattening down.
“We got you something!” Helga yelled out, her eyes wide in excitement. “Well, somethings.” Walther revealed what he was holding, a small box that looked rather light.
“Well, I don’t really know if I did much-“ Walther attempted to say, to which Helga softly elbowed him. “Anyways, here you go.”
“…Thank you.” Arkanath said softly, gently taking the box in her hands. It was a little worn down, most likely from age.
Aslan had gotten her a roll of fabric tape, used for wrapping weapons for better grip and less wear. A useful gift for fighting, one that Aslan has surely received himself many times and one that Arkanath will surely prove helpful. Beside the tape was what looked to be a handmade plush, the slightly off-white fabric sewn and stuffed into the shape of a stoat.
Arkanath couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight of it, both due to her gratitude and the slightly messy thread. It reminded her of the small plush her mother gave her when she was a child, which had eventually become nothing more than frayed fabric from use.
“It’s lovely.” She finally responded, making quick eye contact with each of the three before looking back to the gifts.
“I had to teach Walther how to help me sew it. But I think he did a better job than me…” Helga held out her hands, small needle pricks visible on her fingers.
“I think Ondal and the traveller should be back soon. They were getting more firewood, I think.” Aslan said.
Arkanath held back a joke about the traveller not being able to carry anything they found, just giving a simple nod. She paused for a moment, looking around. “Where’s Syphfride?”
“Huh? I’m not sure…” Aslan shrugged.
“Isn’t she-“ Helga started, quickly stopped by Walther reaching up to cover her mouth.
Arkanath smiled at the sight. Sometimes, she felt like she was their big sister, enjoying watching them live through what childhood they can still hold onto. She can’t remember much of her own, but maybe it was something like this.
Raligon invited the group to sit around the extinguished fire, offering everyone a jam-filled bun. The younger group took one each, though Arkanath declined seconds.
Soon enough, Ondal and the traveller returned, and Helga chuckled upon seeing the traveller carry about a fourth of what Ondal could.
The traveller rolled his eyes, joining Ondal as he set the firewood in a pile a good distance away from the centre of camp.
“There’s the birthday girl.” Ondal said, and Arkanath couldn’t help but sigh and shake her head, though a smile still graced her face. He sounded like a father talking to a toddler, even though they were near the same age.
“How are those buns Raligon made? I had one this morning.” The traveller said, continuing the circle the group had started. He mouthed a ‘Happy Birthday’ to the mercenary, who was glad he didn’t make it quite as big a deal.
“I had one this morning as well. That’s all I need, though.” The stoat-kin responded.
“Hey, come on,” Ondal patted her shoulder, sitting next to her. “It’s your birthday. You always eat as little as you need, I know that. Enjoy yourself.”
“…Fine.”
“Wait, Ondal.” The traveller nudged him, judging back towards their makeshift tent.
“Ah, right.”
The traveller walked off for a moment, returning with another box, much flatter this time. “We wanted to get you something as well. It’s the least we can do.”
Arkanath gently lifted the lid off of the box, her nose twitching at the scent of clean leather. She smiled, her fangs once again poking into her bottom lip, and picked up the leather chest piece. “This will definitely need some breaking in, but… it’s very nice. Thank you, both of you.” Considering they were fairly far from civilization, those two must have been holding onto this for quite a while.
Truth be told, Arkanath was a bit overwhelmed by the gifts. After not celebrating her birthday for years, she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to receiving gifts.
“Hey, Raligon,” Helga started, her mouth full. “What kind of jam is this? Strawberry?”
“Raspberry.” Brandon responded in place of the spiritmancer, walking towards the group (floating, in actuality, though it appeared as though he was walking on the air with the absence of the Maruo Leiscere.)
Arkanath enjoyed the quiet ‘meal’ that came after the remark, as even Brandon gladly took a bun from the basket. It was a rare moment of serenity for their adventuring party, a sort of peace that they were only used to experiencing when the world wasn’t being destroyed.
Maybe she could open her heart again. Maybe the light in her life could find shelter in other souls.
The stoat-kin’s ears twitched at the sound of footsteps upon grass, but they were gentle, caring, and something about it soothed her. She could let herself relax, just this once.
“I hope I didn’t miss anything.” The melodic voice of a draconic descendant called out. Arkanath found it in herself to turn, to pry herself away from the moment in front of her to see Syphfride’s graceful features. Like sew on a foggy morning, Arkanath could swear she was practically glittering, her pale clothing blending with the clouds as the mercenary looked up at her.
“Syph.” She merely said, only to be met with a small giggle from the dragon.
“You have something on your face, Ark.” She extended a hand - one Arkanath was taught to flinch away from - and ran her thumb across her chin, wiping away a spot of jam she hadn’t noticed.
“Oh… thanks.”
“Here, I have something for you.”
Wouldn’t Syphfride know by now that Arkanath wasn’t accustomed to the gifts, the care, the love? Not that she wasn’t thankful, but-
A bouquet of flowers- no, a bouquet of daisies held out, the scent indicating they were freshly picked.
“They reminded me of you.”