Disclaimer: All characters copyright Sting/Atlas. I just use them for my own ends.
"Nessiah?"
If it had been anyone else, Nessiah would have persevered with his reading, but for Gulcasa he could make an exception. He dogeared his page and looked up.
If someone had told him even a month ago that Gulcasa and his three sisters would be sitting perfectly placidly in a library, all reading or doodling or otherwise quietly occupying themselves, he would have laughed himself sick. But after the war, each and every one of them having their own near-death experience, they'd started doing everything as a family unit and refusing to let one another out of their sight.
And, much to his shock, Nessiah had been included in this.
The first time he'd gone down to his favourite corner of the library and discovered his unusually large posse, he'd groaned inwardly and almost left again, but after a little bickering and looking around, they'd settled. Each time it had happened faster until it was almost a routine – the twins would read, Gulcasa would start going through reports, and he'd hand the useless ones over for Emilia to draw on the back of. By all means, they still argued – about once a fortnight, they'd bicker over the twins not telling Emilia outright what their books were about (not as if they could – and what they found in those trashy novellas that thinly veiled what amounted to written pornography behind a genre known as 'romance', Nessiah had no idea) but most of the time they made for good company.
This happened in other facets of everyday life too – Nessiah found himself getting dragged along to many more mealtimes, and 'invited' to sit with the imperial family on every occasion. The twins still gave him the cold shoulder, but he had a feeling keeping things the way it had always been, even after the events on Ancardia, was their way of telling him he was accepted.
And all this was why Nessiah was quite happy to make conversation with Gulcasa.
"Need a life raft?" Nessiah offered, looking at the sea of reports surrounding the young emperor.
"No, I was wondering," Nessiah couldn't help but notice the glint in his eye, "exactly how old are you?"
Nessiah nearly dropped his book. "What?"
"How old are you?" Gulcasa repeated, grinning outright. "Or what's your best guess?"
Nessiah looked to the other members of his family. "Would one of you please tell your brother not to be... so..."
The appeal trailed off as he realized they were all smiling at him, the twins hiding theirs behind books. They were all in this together.
"What's this about?" He asked carefully.
"Your month and day of birth are on the inside cover of the Revelation," Gulcasa said.
"I know that. What about it?"
"We wanna know how many candles to put on your birthday cake!" Emilia said. "DUH!"
This time Nessiah did drop his book. "What? My... My what?"
"Clearly you haven't thought anything of it in so long it's slipped your mind completely," Gulcasa was clearly enjoying this, "but your birthday's coming up in a couple of weeks and it's about time you got celebrated properly. And that includes a cake."
"A... Gulcasa, do you have any idea how much heat over a thousand candles would give off?"
"We know that!" Emilia objected. "We're gonna get number candles!"
Oh gods. Nessiah had seen those before. Little waxwork numbers with wicks, a decorative rarity that could never be associated with proper maturity. And with Emilia clearly having a hand in things, the whole affair was going to be brighter than he would consider tolerable anyway.
"A decorative design will do fine," he told them, hoping some free rein and utterly feigned interest in the whole idea at all would get them off the numerical issue.
"We're not going anywhere until you give us an answer," Gulcasa said, "and neither are you."
Smart-alec. With his back to a corner and a bookshelf to his side, Nessiah's cosy little hole only had one exit, which his four pseudo-siblings were blocking.
Caught between a rock and a hard place. And that rock was most definitely in Gulcasa's head. It was time to know exactly what he was in for.
"I hope you're not going to announce this to the world from the steps of the town hall," Nessiah gibed.
"Of course not," Gulcasa said. Nessiah exhaled.
Far too soon.
"We'll all be in Paltina for a treaty signing that week anyway, so we'll be announcing it at one of the formal dinners."
That translated to 'no, just every major diplomat on the continent'. After a little further thought, however, he realized that a black-tie dinner would shield him behind formal etiquette, so at least he'd only have to deal with one person congratulating him at a time.
"Something's bugging me," Agina admitted. Nessiah couldn't help noticing her one good eye was glinting with wicked glee. "How are we going to fit 'one-thousand-and-whatever' into the song?"
Oh gods. The song. He'd forgotten THE SONG!
Apparently the horror showed on his face, as all four of them broke out laughing. Nessiah started stuttering a complaint, threat, or plea (he wasn't sure which) but Gulcasa waved him down.
"We aren't that cruel," Gulcasa assured him after getting control of himself. "We'll keep all that between us. But you still haven't answered my question."
"What makes you think I will?" Nessiah pressed.
"Oh, we could always wait until we get there and ask Kylier..."
Gulcasa fights dirty. Kylier would tell them his age, alright, and gods know what else. It was going to be bad enough with just his pseudo-family, the cake, and that godforsaken song, so let's not get any embarrassing secrets involved.
Nessiah knew he should have learned by now – it was a lot easier to just do what Gulcasa asked.
"One thousand, three hundred and thirty-seven," he relented finally, before adding under his breath, "and just you wait until next July, Mister..."