Disclaimer: I own nothing.

~.~.~

He felt the same euphoria- the same passion- he felt when he had first realized his feelings for her when he woke up to the sound of her breathing against his own chest. It persisted throughout their relationship.

When she woke up and she sleepily called his name, a hand rubbing an eye, he couldn't help but smile. He would wish her good morning, and she would wish him back. They would lazily lay there for a while.

Sometimes, the co-emperor would drift back off to sleep, snoring away. After a few minutes of which, she'd wake him up by pushing the tip of his nose up to resemble a pig's. He'd stare in slight annoyance yet amusement as she imitated the mascot of their country, giggling between snorts.

"Having fun, are we," he asked one time, staring past his pushed-up snout.

"Well, we are Hamelin pigs. We really don't ever stop working," she jested.

"Correction, dear Abbie- I'm the Hamelin pig. You've had the luxury of relaxing and taking it easy." He smirked at this knowledge.

"Oh- but I can never just sit still! I always end up doing something," she complained, withdrawing her hand.

By this point, they had had this argument a dozen times. He was on the verge of giving up. "Whatever you wish. I wish I knew where all this energy was coming from," he permitted. He often wagered that she was simply excited most of the time… Or perhaps it was just a mood swing?

She would sometimes become quite irate for no reason at times. Other times she would be going about her business, then suddenly crying. At first, he questioned her to see if there was anything he could do but soon found that all he could do was wait it out and comfort her. Or in the case she was angry, just silently support her at her side.

Despite these odd instances, when she was feeling like herself, she felt the familiar feeling of warmth and gratitude invade her whenever he excitedly made preparations for their future heir. He had gone all the way to Eperlan in order to get her old toys. And just after that, he went and dug his old baby toys out of storage.

His brother insisted on having new toys made for them, but the soon to be father rejected the idea constantly. "I want our child to be resourceful. I don't think pampering is the way to go with this, Marcassin," he lectured his younger brother.

"Some of these do look like they're falling apart," Abbie noticed as she lifted an ancient looking simple pull-along train set. It seemed to be slightly rusted from the age. There were even some wooden alphabet blocks- though it looked like much of them had gone missing. The remaining few had some telling bite marks on them. She raised an eyebrow at her partner.

Marcassin pulled a metal rattle from Abirose's set, it seemed to suffer from the ailments from the train and the wooden blocks combined. "I believe we could still have better," he groaned and reached for his wand. "I suppose I could use Rejuvenate, but given the pauper style you intend to have for the sake of tradition…"

He looked at the toys they had selected to scrutinize and crossed his arms. "Fine," he caved.

He grabbed one toy out of the box labeled, "Gascon"- an aquamarine stuffed pig made out of a soft, fluffy material. It was permanently set in a sitting position, looking face forward. It had no mouth. It was wearing a simple black vest with no buttons to limit choking hazards. It seemed its left ear had been gnawed on by something- enough that the material had gone bald in a semi-straight line.

"But we're at least giving them Mr. Hogglesworth," he demanded, looking at the pig with a slight defiant smirk.

Abbie let out a giggle. "Hogglesworth. Did you name it, Swaine?" She sat down as she commented on the name.

Gascon shook his head. "That was actually my father's doing. The name stuck." He shrugged. "I forgot how goofy our old man could be when he wasn't running the kingdom or lecturing me." He absentmindedly rubbed the bald spot on the ear. There was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"Are you sure it is wise to give it to an infant, Gascon? It is a valuable treasure," Marcassin wondered, holding his chin.

At that, the former blackjack dealer shrugged. "I'm giving them my old orange stuffed bear." She held it up. It looked even worse for wear than the pig. The seams seemed to be slightly pulling apart and the embroidered eyes were beginning to fray.

The mage raised an eyebrow at both of them. "It may not survive…"

"I'm sure you've already reasoned this, but if it does survive, that makes it all the more valuable, Marcassin." Swaine looked up from the stuffed pig. "I enjoy the idea of keeping father alive through this," he said with a sly grin. "After all, he was the one to give it to me."

"I concur," Abirose replied. "I feel the same with my stuffed bear. Or as I called her, Rosie." She shook the bear in question, eventually resting it on her belly. It lacked the posture of the better put together Hogglesworth, but it still seemed fairly solid to her. It wasn't super soft, but it was rather squishy and huggable for a baby. She flapped an arm as she fondly recalled her toddler days. "She needs some reinforcement, but she'll do." She looked up at the two brothers. "Don't you think, you two?"

The two men exchanged looks and the sage nodded at her. "I'll take it to the royal tailor. They will take care of it." He walked over and had her hand it to him. "And then, Gascon," he began, his voice firm and warning. "We'll get you two some proper baby toys." He flashed an almost innocent smile before leaving.

He felt the excitement of his life-changing, warping around hers and giving him even more of a purpose to continue on. Even on days when he was down, she was always there to cheer him up.

The excitement and nervousness rose when he was informed of the possibility of not one child, but two. It was hard to tell, according to the royal physician that checked on her, but he thought he had heard two heartbeats, beating at once when he listened to her stomach with a stethoscope.

"Gascon, you do remember you have servants…," she reminded the pacing royal. She sometimes wondered if he forgot. He tended to try and get everything done himself, even if he did call on servants to aid his reign.

He shook his head. "I can have all the servants in the world, but in the end, these kids are my responsibility." He flew a hand up in the air. "I'm their guardian- their father!" He finally stopped in front of her, a panicked look on his face. "Two kids, Abbie?! I can barely keep track of the empire as it is!"

"Gascon, it's alright." She breathed. "You have me, remember? We're doing this together." She pulled herself up from the stool in front of the workbench. She took his hand. "We can do it, Swaine," she reassured him, looking up at his slightly disheveled appearance. "We'll figure it out." At the slightly less frantic look on his face, she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

He stopped worrying so much after that. He had complete faith in her. It was all it took. Sometimes he wondered if she was the one in control of the relationship. He dropped that train of thought each time he looked at her and how much she truly needed him. Both of them were in control- were equals.

It wasn't long until it finally happened. Two boys were brought into the world, both of varying weights and looks. One looked slightly thinner than the other. Despite the hours of pain, despite everything, the former Lady of Eperlan survived to see what they had made.

Well, this is going to be interesting, he had thought as soon as he saw them. Nevertheless, he felt a sense of fatherly pride swell inside him. These were his- no, their kids. He had played a part in their existence. So, had the woman who held both in her arms in their bed, cleaned and well rested from the ordeal a day and a half later.

He had given a short laugh. "They're just as cute as their mother," he half-joked. "I hope I can be a better father to them than mine was to me," he admitted through a blush and a smile. "Sometimes he was hardly there."

"Was that what you were worried about each time I brought this up," she said as she looked up from one of them.

He scratched the back of his head as he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked out to the work desk. "Yeah… Looking back on it, I was kind of a brat. A lot of that might have been my fault." He looked back at her and reached for the baby closest to him- the largest one-, holding out a finger. When he grabbed it, the elder emperor felt that excitement and pride wash through him all over again. "Both of us could have handled it better… But I promise… It'll be different. This will be different."

He would always feel that pride in them, and she would always adore them. They never attempted to separate the two newly recognized princes of Hamelin. Every time they were apart, the two would fuss. They tended to sleep with their backs to each other, even when they napped with their mother as infants.

It worried them slightly, especially Gascon. He didn't want a repeat of what had happened to him and Marcassin. He didn't want either of them to end up like him. They would often take the toddlers away from each other when they were slightly older so they could get used to being apart.

They would be safe as long as they stayed in the palace… Though, he supposed, that they could learn a thing or two from having to fend for themselves in the future. What was the point in them being alive if they never got to go out and live?

Which, they often had as they grew up. The oldest emperor insisted on Abirose taking them to Eperlan to get out of the palace more. He wanted them to have the life of normal children- as normal as they could be. He wanted them to grow up knowing what it was like for people who weren't royalty.

Whenever they went to Eperlan, Abbie would make sure that they were looked after similar to the way Maria had- who had taught her how to manage a home as a child. And when she got out into the world, that's when she would climb and fool around with the lower-class kids.

One of their boys was exactly like that, in fact. At the age of six, the smallest of the two- the one with the curlier hair- often found himself playing small games with the other kids his age in the area. The larger of the two watched on quietly. He'd correct his brother and even question him if he was about to do something that… didn't seem like a good idea- even to a six-year-old.

It was also there, they would figure themselves out- learn to cope with being separated. They were still brothers, but it didn't mean they had to stick together all the time. They especially learned that when they had their first sibling argument at the age of eight and decided not to speak to each other for a few hours. One eventually found it hard and left the room.

The smallest of the two was just as energetic and rough as his mother but seemed to have the stubborn streak of their father. He also never thought things through entirely, which landed him in a great deal of trouble- often getting his brother into it as well

The larger of the two, the one with straight dark brown hair, was the thinker and observer. He tended to be rather brave and strong-willed- his smaller counterpart inheriting his father's slightly more cowardly tendencies. Despite this, the larger was lazier. He was more of an observer than a doer at times. The situation had to be dire to spur him into action.

And while both of them displayed a small degree of magical talent of varying amount, it didn't seem either would amount to filling the role of Great Sage anytime soon. That was fine- as Hamelin had other means of defense without one.

They were taught how to wield a sword, though. Both their mother and father pushed them into it, much to the smallest's chagrin. The boy even mocked the lessons as "dance lessons". Even so, the machine-minded emperor constantly enforced the idea that they'd need it someday- even if the stances they used were in tandem with another weapon.

They fought. They argued. They beat each other up. They were siblings. The two would often find themselves in front of their father, mother, or uncle being reprimanded for their actions. Despite all this, they'd have each other's backs as brothers- as their father and uncle before them.

Gascon and Abirose would often smile into the bedroom their sons inhabited- the mechanical sage's old room as a child acting as the room that they grew up knowing- and watch as they slept in an exhausted dogpile on the floor.

"You think we should give them a blanket," Abbie wondered, leaning on the father of their kids. She let her focus fall on the stuffed bear clutched by the sleeping ruffian twin.

He looked on at the two pre-teens. "Nah. They'll be fine." He shrugged. "Trust me… They'll keep each other warm." He saw the old stuffed pig, that one bald spot on the ear slightly larger thanks to the quieter of the two, being held close by that same prince.

She let out a giggle. "They do seem pretty comfortable...," she added.

"Heh. Yeah," he stated, looking down at her. He looked back at the two brothers. "I can't believe how big they've gotten. They were so small…"

"That's how kids work, Swaine," she reminded him with hushed laughter. She stood straight and turned around to leave. "We should let them be."

He nodded in agreement and, not before taking one last look for the night at the snoring pile, he reached over and closed the door. "Goodnight, you two," he whispered with a comforting grin.

At some point… it came time for their sons to take their separate paths. The rowdier of the two decided he would attempt to manage his mother's hometown- as it seemed the most laid back, not to mention that he knew everything there. The quieter of them had his sights set on the throne- his mind geared more towards the analytical and technical side of things more than his brother. The fact that they had both come to such conclusions themselves had pleased the eldest emperor. In fact, it more than pleased him- he never felt so proud of anything before in his life!

They were still managing the kingdom just fine, but Gascon was starting to feel his age- it had been almost twenty years since the two boys were born. He was forty when he first held one of them in his arms. Nevertheless, he had managed to avoid a repeat of the past.

"Have at it…," he told them. "But remember what you've been taught all these years. Those history lessons weren't for nothing," he reminded them.

"Don't forget about everything else your father is failing to point out," she jabbed, elbowing the man in the side.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed nonchalantly. "Don't forget the familiars we gave you."

"Gascon," she warned, still smiling.

"And don't forget to not be too good," he reminded them. He received an even harder nudge. He chuckled. "And remember that stealing is only right when it's from beasts (I learned that from Esther.)"

"Swaine," she blurted out, hitting him on the back of the head. "You know what I mean."

The man rubbed the back of his head. "Ouch," he muttered, still grinning from his joking. She had been right all those years ago. Despite his serious moments, Gascon had become the more humorous of the two and Abirose the stricter and enforcing.

They assured them they'd do their best to honor them- to take care of the empire in their stead. They were finally ready to move forward with their lives as Lord and Emperor. As such, they were christened with their titles respectively at a similar coronation to Gascon's.

Of course, that's where they actually saw their parents' true dancing skills for the first time. The thinner twin had to eat his own words- he had only seen his father and mother dance as a joke before. Naturally, his initial response when Gascon offered his beloved to dance was to try and dissuade him, ultimately ending with him briefly covering his eyes. His sturdier counterpart managed to reorient his brother's attention to their fluid dancing.

It was difficult figuring out what to do with their days after that. Half of their time during the day had been spent taking care of their boys. The other half was spent running the empire. One of the things still involved that and it was advising them. The two would sometimes ask them for tips or about a previously done project that needed inspection. They were absolutely eager to answer, missing some of the business of their prior occupations.

The rest of the time was spent together as if they had never had kids. There was one difference in that, however. They never forgot that they were parents- the parents of the current rulers… partially. Marcassin was still the great sage and, the gracious uncle that he was, was glad to have his nephew join him in running the kingdom.

They spent a lot of time just sitting and playing blackjack, or platoon, or whatever playing card game they could think of. It brought back memories to them- of their lives together. It brought back memories of playing with their sons, much of their skills in strategy steeped heavily in these games that had kept their parents' bond strong.

"You know, in all these years, I've never once asked you what your favorite color is," Swaine wondered, holding a hand of cards in front of him, spending time with his love. He had taken the day off. "I assume two colors, but I just don't know." He thought of the black outfit she wore a while ago.

They had been together for some time now… One of them would say thirty, but the other would say twenty-five if anyone dared to ask. Parts of his hair had started to grey, though more so than Abbie's. There was an increase in the number of wrinkles and lines around the face and mouth for both of them, but due to good health- their cheeks didn't droop as much as either thought they would.

"It… took you thirty years to think to ask," she wondered quizzically.

He placed his hand down. "I was too busy dealing with kingly matters, raising kids, and loving you," he shot back. "Oh! I win this hand!" He smirked at the cards. She had sixteen, he had nineteen.

She reached over and turned the cards around so they were upside down. "Now you don't."

He narrowed his eyes at the move. He leaned back and crossed his arms as he smirked at her. "Cheater." He shrugged. "You still have to pay up." They were playing the version they had played the day they had kicked off their romance- whoever won got to answer a question. It didn't matter what the question was- they just had to answer it.

"Do I have to…," she whined, pouting.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Swaine complained. "I'm just asking you a simple question."

"If it's a simple question, then why did it take you thirty years to ask it," she indicated with an index finger stretched towards him.

"It never crossed my mind until now," he reasoned. It was funny; he knew his brother's favorite color was purple and his was green- any green. He even knew Esther's and Oliver's. But the love of his life? He hadn't even thought to ask her. He never felt it was necessary. He raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed. "So, what is it?"

"Green," she blurted out without thinking. She quickly placed a hand to her mouth. "Green," she squeaked. She never thought of her favorite color all too much herself. She was surprised when she shouted out that color.

The former emperor thief blinked and his arms slightly relaxed. "'Green'," he asked her, tilting his head. "I would have thought- no. Never mind. It doesn't matter what I thought," he waived. He thought it was black or even orange. But green…?

"You… just now thought of what your favorite color is, didn't you," he quickly surmised.

She nodded, her brown and grey hair bobbing with her head, her hand still covering her mouth.

He sat in silence as he leaned over the table, looking down at the selection in front of him. He glanced up with his eyes and smirked. "You chose green because of me, didn't you…? Because I wear green a lot- I was even wearing it in the casino." His smirk grew into a grin.

She finally lowered her hand. "Perhaps. You still waited until thirty years after to ask me that question. God… you're…," she started to say. She shook her head, chuckling quietly to herself. "A spectacular human being, Gascon," she said in both sarcasm and earnest.

He smiled back at her, admiring how cheerful she looked. "And you're as beautiful as the day we met, Abirose."

She held a hand to her chest, a blush rushing to her face. "You're just flattering an old woman."

"Oh, I mean it." He reached over to her hand and took it, examining it. "Still just as warm. Still just as small. Still just as strong." He looked back up and clasped another hand around hers. "That's my rose."

"Gascon… You do realize I'm sixty, now, don't you?" She took an index finger and traced the back of the wrinkly, long, and worn fingers of her thief. "We've gotten quite old."

"I keep forgetting that we're ten years apart," he recalled.

"Gascon…," she sighed, smirking. "You didn't worry about that, then…" She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "What you did worry about was me."

He tilted his head at her curiously, thoughtfully. "How'd I get so lucky, hmm?"

She scoffed playfully, leaning back. "Well, you've never been the lucky type. You have me for, one."

"That's unlucky… how," he questioned her. When she only responded with a knowing smile and a blush, he laughed. He began to try and pull himself from his seat, his body resisting at every attempt. The years had not been kind to him, but fate had.

"Gascon, what are you up to?" Her gaze followed him.

When he was finally up, he walked over to a shelf housing a few records, selected one, and put it on to play on the phonograph next to the work desk. When he returned, he extended a hand. "Care to dance, my lady," he offered.

And she accepted gleefully. It had been so long since they had done so. She wrapped her right arm under his left. She pressed her right hand against his chest. They spun around the room to the rhythm of the notes- the big bands of Hamelin's orchestras giving it their all. When they circled back to the sofa, the music hit its climax and he spun her around in one spot. When he pulled her close to him, her weight toppled his balance.

They were sent careening back towards the sofa, his back to it. "Ah, hell," he swore, holding her close to him out of reflex- she was the closest thing to hold onto.

She too, clung to him out of habit, her hands gripping the shirt underneath his cape when she realized what was happening.

His efforts for stability proved futile… but at least she was spared from the abrupt impact thanks to his mistake.

He winced and grunted, before looking down at her with half-open eyes. She, with a slightly stunned look, looked back at him. They shared this awkwardness for a few moments before finally laughing at each other.

"You clumsy old fool," she jeered through her chuckling. "Some things certainly don't change."

"So, you remember that night, too, eh?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "Honestly, we really ought to be more careful, Abbie. I'm not as durable as I used to be."

She shook her head. "Nonsense. You've got your brother." She stifled a giggle. "Who still doesn't look a day over thirty."

He tilted his head to the left and glanced up at the bronze ceiling, choosing to ignore the quip about his brother. "True… But the pain is still real."

She hummed in thought. "Do you wonder… if we made the right choice or not, Gascon…? To let ourselves grow old like this…," she pondered quietly. She rested her head on his chest as she had done so many times before.

He chortled and leaned his head against the back cushion of the loveseat. "I do. But you know, it feels good…" He sighed. "To have lived to experience old age." He looked back down at her. "Don't you agree?"

"Don't you ever want to go back," she wondered. She looked up at him, and, despite her aged look, he saw the same energetic youthfulness she always kept. And while his eyes seemed tired, a persistent spark of hope rivaled that spark of youth hers maintained.

He glanced at the ceiling again in thought. To go back…? He had once- at one time. He shook his head. "No." He nodded, confirming it. "It wouldn't feel as… genuine- everything we've worked for wouldn't feel…"

"Accomplished?" She sighed, nodding. "I suppose you have a point, dear Gascon." She lifted her arms up and wrapped them around his shoulders. "Not to mention we'd miss out on growing old together."

He scoffed. "That's for one! Could you imagine? What would our boys say?"

"Or their kids…," she joked. She giggled at the thought of grandchildren. "Do you think they'll find someone one day?" She closed her eyes,

He smirked. He placed a hand on the back of her head and let his fingers get tangled in her hair. "They will… perhaps in their own time." He rubbed her back with his other hand as he closed his eyes. "Love certainly changes a person. I say let them be them for as long as they can."

She opened her eyes and looked up. "I'm sorry."

He opened an eye to peer down at her. "Eh? What for?"

"Changing you."

"Hey! We changed each other! If you're going to blame anyone, you might as well throw me in with it," he playfully berated, faking an offended glare.

"Or maybe I didn't." She laughed as she looked up at his quickly softening expression.

He laughed back at her, seeing her point in the entire scenario. "I guess it depends." He shrugged.

It went eerily silent on them for a while. Gascon relaxed into the couch and Abirose seemed to melt with him.

"…Gascon? …Swaine," she finally broke the silence.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you think… if we were to die… we'd see each other in another life?"

"That's a morbid thought."

"I know… But if we did die, do you think we'd still love each other?"

"You're assuming we'd die at the same time?!" He glanced down at her. "What if I die first?"

"If you do, I'd try to stay around as long as I can," she pulled one hand down and gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Someone's got to look out for those two."

"They're thirty, Abbie," he reminded her. He sighed. "But I suppose you have a point. You never know the future." He lifted the hand on her lower back and scratched his cheek. "Heh. Or as my father used to state all the bloody time- even on his deathbed- 'The future is a mystery to all men'."

"You mean what you coin all the time? What was the other one you like to say a lot whenever they brought up something ridiculous the other did early on? 'Let the past-'"

"'-Stay in the past.' That's Marcassin's favorite, too…" He shrugged again. "I suppose there's a part of me that's just like my father after all…" He groaned. "Even in death, he's being a pain."

She chuckled. "At least he'll always be alive in some way…"

"Do you think you'd be able to continue if I did die?"

"I think… it would ruin me." She buried her head into his chest. "Tell me. What should I do if you do?"

"Be there for them," he answered. "And live knowing that I still love you, Abbie." He traced the outline of her face. How it had changed since those early years. "I don't want you to fall apart. Not over me."

She pressed her face into his chest again. "I can't promise you that. Not when it comes to losing you."

"Alright. I get it." He heaved his shoulders as he sighed. "Fine. I'll try if you do. How's that?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Live."

"I… I promise."