Disclaimer: this is a fanfic, the only payment I get are reviews. Which are, like, food for the author. So all's well. n.n
This can be read either as a stand-alone or as part of (Ic)twfys chapter 12.
Happy birthday, Sabo!
000
-Of Top Hats and Family-
000
When I was three years old, King Goa announced he would not accept the child of a woman other than his beloved to inherit the throne. Therefore, he would never remarry.
That choice of his affected my entire life.
000
"Queen Oroka died in childbirth!"
"Oh my, such news saddens my heart."
"Sabo, my son, you must marry Princess Zurako, no matter what, understand? She is the only heiress to the throne, so you'll become king! Isn't it wonderful?"
My two-year-old self knew three things: one, I must make my parents happy; two, in order to do so, I must marry the princess; and three, I was never good enough.
In one year, many tutors came and went, never staying more than a few weeks.
That is, until she arrived.
Aunt Luka, father's unmarried younger sister, came to live with us. Thinking nothing of it, I kept doing what I had done to all the other idiots so far.
"With a face like that, it's no wonder you're a spinster, old hag!"
"Is it my impression or you're even uglier than yesterday?"
Regardless of what I said, she remained unfazed.
Thus, I started the pranks. Even the most tolerant of my tutors had given up after I dyed their hair neon green.
Still, nothing. It was so frustrating!
"Luka, is that awful boy harassing you again? You should be firmer with him!"
"Do not worry, brother dearest. I'll punish him as I see fit."
"Very well."
But she never did.
"Why won't you get angry?"
She put her violin down and, for the first time since I'd met her, frowned. "Oh, but I am angry. Very angry. How dare that brother of mine impose the very same restrictions he so hated on his own flesh and blood? Does his greed know no limits?"
"Is that a 'rhetoric question'?"
She smirked. "Yes, my dear nephew. Of all the things I taught you, I'm glad you understand this. Now, clap the rhythm on page forty six, exercise one."
From that point on, I tried to pay attention—not only to the lessons, but to all the little things.
Her derision had never been directed at me.
What I had believed to be condescension was, in fact, her (failed) attempts at humor. With that in mind, her sarcasm didn't hurt me anymore.
"Don't tell your father, or I will never give you anything else!" Sweets snuck beyond my parents' backs.
"You know, I want to travel around the world someday." Small secrets shared between two friends.
"Would you like to accompany me to your mother's closet? Her undergarments could only improve with some nettle powder." With her, I also learned the meaning of passive-aggressiveness.
000
All good things end too soon.
In hindsight, all the signs were there. I should have realized something was wrong.
She was constantly looking at the window, sighing. Her once impeccable nails were frayed, varnish peeling away; black hair sticking out of her tight braid.
"We must celebrate your fifth birthday, dear nephew. I ordered a custom-made top hat for you."
"Like father's?"
"No, of course not! I have good taste! That abomination on my brother's head shouldn't even exist." Aunt Luka crossed her arms.
"Is it very tall?"
"The tallest."
000
"I hate you!" After saying those words, I locked myself in my room.
How could she abandon me?
Aunt Luka lied!
She's marrying a noble from another country and leaving me behind…
I punched the bed and threw my pillows at the door. I raged and screamed and cried and curled up and slept.
When I finally came out, there was a package right in front of the door.
All my anger, at that point, had given way to defeated sadness, so I put it on my bed and started unwrapping.
Inside, there was a simple (elegance in modesty!) top hat and a note.
'Follow your dreams when I could not—let this be my last lesson for you.'
The words were blotted, as if hastily written. No, those particular smears were only caused by liquids spilled on ink.
I'd know that, since the note was blurring even further as I held it.
000
Two days later, I climbed the walls and escaped to the Gray Terminal. It would be months of solitude before a certain encounter…
000
Of Top Hats and Family_end
Aunt Luka – Outlook. Get it? *shot*
Gah. Theme naming is hard.