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To be honest, the day had been a series of shocks, enough that this particular shock didn't even feel like one.
Grey eyes, with a serenity that sat far too comfortably on someone so young, stared at her, and Serval felt a wave of emotions crash into her again.
Unlike before, the wave didn't recede. It was a tempest within her with no real way out.
Where was her guitar when she needed it?
Except no, Serval reminded herself as she kneeled slowly to be eye-to-eye with the ten-year-old girl. Sometimes, you weren't allowed to express your emotions. Sometimes you had to exercise restraint because you were the only adult in the room who actually cared about everything and everyone. And that meant that you also had to be the one to carefully control the storm that came with the care so that you wouldn't lose everything that mattered.
Deep breaths, Serval.
"Hi, Bronya," Serval began, beginning to force a smile she didn't feel before stopping herself. No, she refused to start this relationship off with anything but her honesty. "I'm Serval. I was..."
She swallowed, the next words tasting bitter before they even hit her tongue. "I was your mother Cocolia's friend. According to Miss Pela, she left you to my care if anything happened to her?"
At this, both ladies glanced over to the petite officer witnessing this. Serval was almost jealous at Pela's neutral look - she was always better at regulating her emotions for anything that wasn't her fanfiction. Then again, Pela hadn't been as close to Cocolia as Serval had been.
"That's right," Pela confirmed with a nod, glancing at her tablet. "According to the will Madam Cocolia left behind, Bronya, she entrusted you to Serval's care should you be amicable to this agreement and should Serval agree."
Both Serval and Pela turned questioning gazes at Bronya with that, and Serval felt a pang at the sudden confusion that glazed over the girl's eyes.
"I..." Bronya hesitated, and for the first time in this rotten, awful day, Serval actually saw Bronya look and act her age. "I don't know where else to go..."
The words were said so quietly that Serval almost didn't hear them. But the important fact was that she had, and her heart gave another pang for the innocent victim in all of this.
She's just a kid. And whatever happened between us, Cocolia still entrusted her kid to me.
And that, if anything else, was the catalyst for the sudden tears in Serval's eyes, not that she allowed herself to shed them. It wasn't like she was hiding the fact that she was barely holding her grief together, but she needed her speech to be clear and assured.
"You're always welcome to come with me, then," Serval managed, tone only slightly wobbly, holding out her hand for Bronya to take. "I know we don't know each other very well, but if you're willing to take a chance on me, I'm happy to be a home."
What was she saying?
Serval almost couldn't believe her own confidence, which was all nonsense and lies. She was barely twenty-six! She was the manager and only employee of the Neverwinter Workshop - oh, no. She'd have to hire someone to help with the shop because she couldn't just take a ten-year-old to her chaotic workspace of misplaced sharp tools and vaguely dangerous gadgets.
And the worst part of it all was looking into Bronya's eyes and seeing Cocolia's calm. Maybe Bronya and Cocolia weren't related by blood, but the icy mannerisms and quiet dignity were similar.
Too similar.
Serval was going to ugly cry if she didn't pull herself together.
And yet, and yet, some of that childish fear and insecurity left the deep grey eyes in front of her.
Bronya tilted her head, blinking at Serval, and took the offered hand. "It's okay. Mother talked about you sometimes. She said you were a good person. And I...I remember you meeting with Mother a few times. She always looked happy with you there."
Serval knew her smile was too bitter to be considered happy. "Did she now?" she laughed, and the hoarse sound of it was probably why she felt Pela's hand on her shoulder. "Well, okay then, Bronya. From today, I'll be your guardian. You can call me..." Serval hesitated, then felt her smile softening just a little into something more genuine. "What do you want to call me? Anything from Serval to - to Mom is fine."
Damn it, she'd almost said that without shaking.
"Can I...can I call you Auntie?" And Bronya sounded so unsure, so...timid.
And absolutely precious.
Serval released a startled laugh, not having expected that. "Sure, kid," she chuckled, grin turning a smidge teasing. "Calling me old, are you?"
Bronya's eyes flew open. "No, not - " She stopped abruptly then frowned. "You're teasing me..."
The words were said almost sullenly, and Serval couldn't help the well of affection that sprang up for this kid.
"Well, if that's it, Bronya, I leave you in Serval's capable hands," Plea declared, bagging her tablet. She adjusted her glasses and offered Serval a single, confident nod. "See you at rehearsal. You'll be fine."
As Pela left them, Serval noticed Bronya glancing around the living room of Serval's - well, their - home, taking in the chaotic decorations and posters. Mentally, she decided that she'd have to take Bronya shopping, get some decorations, clear out the spare bedroom she was using as storage - lots to do.
They'd be all right.
She had to believe that.
The story wasn't anything too special.
Genius engineering major meets genius major in politics and law, 16 and 17 and already attending Belobog's most prestigious university. Genius engineer and genius politics-major-slash-business-minor become roommates then best friends then start different masters and PhDs when they're 20 and 21 then, maybe, potentially something else but...
Genius politics PhD student gets genius engineering PhD student expelled upon their second year because the latter uncovered something sinister under the former's family business that shouldn't have been uncovered.
Of course, Serval had naively - stupidly - thought back then that Cocolia couldn't possibly know about her family's dangerous dealings and experiments with the stellaron and crime empire plaguing Belobog's Underworld. She'd thought Cocolia would be relieved to know, if shocked and angry and disbelieving.
It had been the first time that Cocolia's icy calm had chilled Serval to the bone, sending warning signs of danger, rather than giving her the urge to poke and prod and tease.
She supposed the one good thing was that, even if Cocolia did have her expelled with false ethics violation charges, Serval had been left physically unharmed in spite of all the secrets she carried. After that, they'd lost contact, though Cocolia's family was prominent enough that Serval had heard a few things, like the woman taking charge of Qlipoth Fort as soon as she finished her PhD and Bronya growing up relatively well.
Whatever, she hadn't cared. At all.
Serval had almost believed that, too, until Pela showed up at her doorstep with a child imitating far too many of Cocolia's mannerisms.
Bronya was...
She was quiet, Serval couldn't help but notice.
Children should be loud, make trouble, run around. Or they should be in their corners reading, lost in their world, still trying to figure out how to get as much as they want.
Bronya was neither.
She didn't run around, but she also didn't read. She sat in Serval's living room, sometimes doing her homework diligently, other times just...sitting there. If Serval asked Bronya if she needed anything - toys, books, CDs, a phone, clothing, food - Bronya would shake her head and say she was fine.
And for the first few weeks, that was fine. Serval realized what a mess Cocolia had left Bronya - the company, the Underworld crime syndicate that was already falling apart, the illegal research (all exposed quietly on Cocolia's arrest and subsequent death) - and she'd been trying to tidy up everything without leaving Bronya completely destitute of the actual legal finances Cocolia had.
After that whole mess was cared for, though, Serval decided that this stagnation wouldn't do.
"You have to have something you want to do besides school, Bronya," Serval attempted again, a bit baffled, as she took a seat next to the girl on the sofa. "You want to try learning guitar?" She gestured to the guitar crowding her other sofa, remnants from tuning it and deciding it could be put away later (as if Serval had ever put it away from the day she'd made it).
Bronya, serious and unsmiling as ever, blinked. "If you want me to?"
Suppressing a sigh, Serval shook her head. "That's why I'm asking. I want to know if there's anything you need or want. Even if it's silly. Like a silly band or rubber duck."
And really, Bronya's disbelieving stare at Serval shouldn't have hurt so much.
The face that frowned at her was too much like a younger Cocolia.
"A rubber duck," the child repeated, the dubious look in her eyes telling Serval that the girl thought she was crazy. "Ducks aren't made out of rubber, though."
And well, at that, Serval gaped at Bronya right back.
"You're telling me you don't know what a rubber duck is? You should've at least come across it in books!"
Bronya shrunk into the couch, and Serval immediately felt bad.
"Never mind that, into the car!" she announced, springing up and holding out her hand. "We're going to the mall. Your assignment" - she put her other hand on her hip with a smirk - "is to go and pick out at least five things that catch your eye as we wander around."
As always, Bronya took the offered hand and let herself be tugged away by the older woman.
"What...kind of things?" she asked, sounding slightly alarmed.
"Anything. Food. Toys. Clothes. A TV screen. Even the fu--udging mall statues, if you want."
Serval tried to ignore the startled and restless energy that suddenly overtook the girl.
"What? Mall statues?" Bronya squawked, though she didn't resist as Serval ushered her into the car. "You're not going to steal them, are you?"
"Hmm...depends. We could buy them, if you really want them," Serval hummed, starting the engine. "If they don't sell it to us..."
She almost snorted at the wide-eyed horror Bronya hit her with through the rearview mirror.
"No! No..." Bronya coughed, and it was obvious she was calming herself down. "No, no, Auntie. I don't want the statues. I don't even know what the statues look like!"
Laughing, Serval turned on some music - not her usual rock but classical, that is, the kind that didn't make Bronya flinch. "You still have to pick out at least five things, girlie."
"At least?"
"Mhmm. Bonus points for every extra item you say catches your eye."
"But...but. What if nothing does? Or - what's even the point of this?!"
"If nothing catches your eye, simple. We get ice cream and call it a day."
Bronya sputtered. "It's...it's winter?"
"Hot chocolate, then," Serval bantered back easily, grinning. "As to the point of all this..."
The point was that even if Bronya was still technically the heiress of a multimillion shield company, thankfully without all the illegal baggage now, and was still being groomed for the role, she was allowed to be a child is what. Serval had had doubts as to how effective a mother Cocolia had been, but from Bronya's easy-if-grief-laden anecdotes about her mother, Serval had read that her former best friend had been a strict but decent mother, physically affectionate (if Bronya's lack of hesitation about giving hugs was anything, even if the girl herself was reserved) and gentle.
Not perfect, but not abusive. Enough that Bronya missed her without feeling any complicated emotions about it, though that may change when Serval inevitably had to have the conversation about the reasons behind Cocolia's sudden death. (And why had Pela - that brat - pawned off that duty on her, of all people?? And Serval was pretty sure she shouldn't call on Lynx to do it for her, even if her youngest sister was better with these difficult conversations at 7 than Serval would ever be at 26).
In any case, Bronya was too duty-minded at 10, and Serval wanted the kid to find her own version of fun - or at least a way to spend her free time that wasn't sitting quietly waiting for dinner.
But back to Bronya's second question. "What's even the point of this?!"
"Maybe I'm just teasing," Serval dismissed, a smile tugging at her lips.
At least Bronya's exasperated sigh sounded like she believed the evasion enough. "Auntie - ah, fine. I will allow it."
Biting back a loud laugh into a small chuff, Serval tapped the wheel. "And this humble peasant thanks her highness."
"...Auntie, please."
Auntie Serval was a strange, strange woman.
Bronya remembered her vaguely from scattered memories of her childhood.
She must have been around four, recently adopted and in awe of the gentle woman who had taken her from Belobog's Underworld orphanage. She'd been sad to leave Rivet Town, her few friends, and the kind woman running the orphanage whose name Bronya couldn't even remember.
But it had been...good.
Until Mother died.
Worst of all, no one would tell her how she'd died.
It was...frustrating. It wasn't as if the ten-year-old hadn't seen death before. She may not remember those deaths - of biological parents, of friends, of scattered acquaintances - but even their vague impression had already left deep marks. Bronya had tried to ask Serval once but the words hadn't even left her mouth.
She wasn't stupid, after all.
Bronya had eyes, and she knew Mother had looked so happy whenever Auntie Serval came to visit her in their home - playing her guitar, teasing her mother, exchanging lots of big words that Bronya desperately wanted to learn. She'd been jealous of her Auntie first, with her light hair streaked blue and the sparkle in her eyes and the easy laughter and the way she could make Mother happy without even trying. When Serval stopped visiting, Mother had looked crushed but resigned, and Bronya had almost resented Serval for it until years later when she saw the bleak grief in her Auntie's eyes.
So no, she wasn't going to bring it up, at least not so soon after everything.
They hadn't known each other too well, Auntie Serval mostly hanging out with Mother and Bronya still slightly jealous of the woman who played music too loud.
And yet...one day, Bronya had gotten herself lost in her new home.
"Looking a little out of place, aren't you, dear?" Serval's voice had been like a golden thread in a maze.
She'd looked amused - Bronya now knew that Serval wore amusement most of the time when she wasn't sad or angry.
"I...where am I?" Bronya had stammered, not wanting to cry but feeling near it.
At the tone, Serval had bent down and tucked a strand of her hair back, smiling softly. "You're home, of course," she'd said, sounding so assured at the fact that Bronya had been startled out of her fear.
And just like when Serval had asked Bronya if she wanted to stay under Serval's guardianship, the young woman of back then had offered her hand. "Come on, let's go find your mom, hm?"
And Bronya, though clinging to Serval's hand, had stubbornly thought to herself that it didn't change the fact that this lady was a weirdo stealing her mother. But...perhaps she wasn't so bad.
And the Bronya of now knew her younger self had been right. Auntie Serval was incredible, but she was still equally incredibly strange.
"There's too much, Auntie," she tried not to whine...or hide behind Serval ("you must never back down or cower from challenges, Bronya," Cocolia's strong, soft voice resounded).
But the Administrative District was already too overwhelming, and this mall was like the entire district packed into a single building.
So she clung to Serval's hand, trying not to squeeze too hard.
"Hmm, maybe this was a bit ambitious for a first outing," Auntie Serval muttered to herself before smiling down at Bronya. "Okay, I'm taking you to the area around Neverwinter Workshop - you remember that street from when we picked out your furniture, right? Should be less overwhelming, but remember your challenge!"
Auntie Serval sang that last part with something that sounded like delight, and Bronya wondered if she was teasing again.
Five things? That she wanted?
So unnecessary! She could almost hear her mother talking about how her role as an heiress would require her to be giving and selfless, that her wants should come after the needs of others.
But Auntie Serval looked so excited and...
And she was really just so strange!
In the end, Serval almost laughed herself to tears - from despair, amusement, both, or neither, she didn't know.
Bronya had successfully located five things she wanted - a crepe, a hair ribbon, a stuffed turkey, some candies, and a knife. They had not bought the knife, but everything else had been fair game...until they'd been lost.
Or, not lost, but given.
The crepe had gone to a child a little younger than Bronya who had been standing in line in front of them but had dropped his before he could have a taste. (Serval had ended up giving Bronya hers in return, which had taken a bit of insisting).
The hair ribbon had gone to a ragged looking teenage girl who has apparently been rushing to a recital she was performing for but lost her hair tie. (And Serval couldn't blame the girl for looking so harried, as the quantity of hair she had really did look unmanageable).
Then, the stuffed turkey and candies had gone to a pair of homeless children they'd run across (along with Pela and Gepard's contact details).
"It's not funny, Auntie," Bronya muttered in that almost-sullen way of hers. "Mother always taught me that as someone who has more than enough, I should also be more willing to give. Isn't..." And suddenly, a note of uncertainty crept up in her voice. "Did I do something wrong?"
Though the question successfully quelled Serval's laughter, she didn't stop herself from smiling even as she shook her head.
"Of course not," Serval sighed almost wistfully, reaching up (crouched down as she was) and smoothing the girl's hair back. "I just realized that my dear niece is a lot more selfless than I gave her credit for, and the humor of today took me by surprise."
Again, there was that look telling Serval that Bronya thought her off her rocker (which, rude. She was always in tune with her rock and roll). "I don't...what's so funny?" Bronya sputtered.
"It's an adult thing. You'll get it when you're older," Serval assured, ignoring the expression full of skepticism with which Bronya responded. Giving one shake of her head, Serval stood and offered her hand again. "Anyway, you did good, Bronya. More than good. I think it deserves hot chocolate, don't you?"
For a moment, Bronya stared at Serval intensely before taking her hand with a quiet nod.
"Well, I did well," the girl mumbled under her breath, looking to the side. "Unless you're using good as a noun instead of a modifier."
It took every ounce of restraint in Serval to stop herself from cackling again.
She just adjusted her grip on Bronya's hand and pulled her towards a coffee shop, grinning.
"That, too, Bronya. That too."
In the end, Serval bought Bronya a rubber duck, which, fortunately, Bronya got to keep.