Disclaimer: I don't own Pandora Hearts
Back when he was just Oswald and his sister just Lacie, he remembers cold and hungry nights. He remembers finding dry places to spend the night in, two small bodies pressing closer for warmth. He remembers a tiny hand holding onto his larger one and blood-red eyes looking at him full of trust and love he never deserved. He remembers many different smiles, all kinds of different expressions and the same red, warm and understanding eyes.
He remembers her smile and eyes full of something that he couldn't understand at that time when the previous Glen said she was to die.
He remembers her eyes and smile, more honest than ever before, on the night when he told her that he would be lonely when she is gone. Or maybe, maybe she has always been honest. Maybe it was him that couldn't bear to look at her and accept her honesty.
He remembers the something in her eyes that he couldn't decipher. Now that he is older, more experienced, he sees it - the contempt and bitterness and… and the resigned acceptance. Looking back, he now knows that she never believed in a future her brother didn't kill her. Even back then, she knew. And she didn't have a reason to fight back against the inevitable. So she smiled. With her heart breaking, she had smiled.
Oswald had done nothing to help her. His sister guarded her heart and mind most jealously. Even Jack wasn't allowed to see the whole of her. But Oswald? She never tried to keep him out. She may have said half-truths or deflected but… She always smiled at him and loved him. There was regret, he mourns, in her eyes. And it wasn't because she was going to die. It was regret and an apology for him. It took him a hundred years and her spelling it out to him to understand.
So he remembers her final smile, tears sliding down her cheeks, chains around her, dragging her down, and her red, red, red eyes. There was regret and hurt and yearning but… But they were overflowing with love. They were always, always overflowing with love for him. Her soft voice echoes in his head, an apology whispered and unsaid 'I love you', and Oswald wished she hated him.
Looking at the small form of a younger Lacie in front of him, sword raised, Oswald remembers. He remembers and his grip loosens. He wished she had hated him. He wished her last words were full of contempt and curses like he has imagined. It would have made everything so much easier.
(He never told her how much he loved her. He never told her how charming her smile was, nor how lovely her eyes were. He wishes he did. He wishes he showed her how beautiful the world was with her illuminating it.)
The younger Lacie smiles at him with her red, red, red eyes.
(She looks so small in the snow and he, he can't do it. All he can remember is the warmth of a smaller hand in his.)
Oswald smiles back.