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The day that Aurel’s son came into the world was the happiest day of his life. Holding the baby in his arms, gazing into those pale green eyes as the baby squeaked and reached out to his father with those adorable baby chubby hands; it was more than Aurel ever thought he deserved in this entire world. At that moment it didn’t matter if they were Eldians or not. All he knew was that this boy was his son, his son that he’d cherished for the rest of his life. The one thing he loves more than anything in the world, and he refuses to let it go, his gold, his treasure.
“Hello little one...” Aurel coos as his son gazes up at him with innocent curiosity. He can feel his emerald eyes gloss up with tears, trying his best not to cry, as those little hands reach out to tug on his raven strands. His wife lies in a hospital bed, exhausted and depressed. She didn’t want the baby, never did, saying the world was too harsh for an innocent soul to experience it, especially one born to Eldians. But of course, the Marleyans wouldn’t allow her to have an abortion despite their ongoing rants about Eldians pumping out babies and filling the world with their filth. The hypocrisy was laughable, and he hated it, hated that she didn’t have a choice in any of it. It was like watching her heart being torn out and he could do nothing. But looking at the being in his arms, he was determined to give him the best life that an Eldian could possibly have, if not maybe even better, and to show her that this world doesn’t have to be so cruel with just a bit of love.
“What do you think of the name Bertolt, dear? It means shining hero.” Aurel cradles the child lovingly in his arms and presses a gentle kiss on his forehead, eliciting a ‘gah’ sound from the baby. Yes, that’s what Bertolt is: a shining hero, always a shining hero.
...
“Papa, why do I have to wear this?” Bertolt asks, looking at the annoying armband hanging loosely on his left arm. Aurel smiles nervously at his son, unsure how to respond. It’s selfish, he knows, yet he can’t help but want to shield his son away from the cruelties of this world.
“So, people can know who you are my little sweetheart.” Aurel fixes the dim coloured armband on Bertolt’s arm, making sure it’s just as the Marlyans would demand it to be. If his son suffered due to his incompetence, he would never forgive himself.
“But Mama always says stranger danger. Why do people need to know about me?” The five-year-old pouts ever so slightly; those cherubic cheeks puffed with mild irritation. Aurel looks at the chalk-white armband, melancholic. Why did the world have to know? Why couldn’t he just hold his baby in his arms without having to fear the consequences?
“Please son. For me? It’s very important you wear this every time you leave our home.” He asks pleadingly. Bertolt looks at his father kneeling before him, then frowns, gripping his armband and nodding his head. Aurel feels relief going through him. At least he doesn’t need to explain the harsh reality to his baby yet. It’s only a matter of time, but he refuses to let Bertolt’s childhood be extinguished so soon.
“We’re going outside today for some groceries, okay?” Aurel holds out his calloused hand towards Bertolt’s soft ones.
“Kay.” Was the only sound that came out of his name, soft and quick, but unable to hide the innocence hidden within it. The door opens gently, letting the fresh air envelop their lungs, and the brief sunlight quickly shoots inside their home. Liberio. The internment zone. It was the only thing Bertolt knew about the outside world. He was always so curious to explore more just like any child would. But he just couldn’t. He never knew why. He always wanted to know what was beyond the walls, beyond those gates that cruelly kept him away from frolicking as much as he wanted. So Bertolt keeps that wonder inside, so as not burden his parents with silly questions that deep down he already knows the answer to. Bertolt keeps his head down, trusting his father with every step he walks holding his hand, blocking out all the noises and focusing on his own world. Maybe he can just imagine all the pretty things in those books that his mother always reads to him. Living in a castle like royalty or living in a forest with majestic trees all around. It’d be so much better than being here. Why couldn’t they go outside the zone? It wasn’t fair.
While in the market, Aurel grabs a foreign object that Bertolt has never seen before and gasps softly as he sees it for the first time. It’s ruby red, shining like a gem, a stick with a small leaf on top of it. Bertolt tilts his head upon gazing at it with caution but curiosity. “What is that, Papa?” Aurel seemed surprised before letting out a shuddering sigh. Of course, his sweet son has never seen something as basic as an apple before. Honestly, such high-quality fruits are a rarity in the zone. He holds it for Bertolt to hold in his hands, watching him hold it as a precious seashell.
"It’s called an apple, my boy. Something you can eat whenever you’re hungry. Would you like me to buy it for you?” Bertolt opens his mouth with a big grin, about to say yes, before closing it and shaking his head, reverting back to his shy self. It breaks Aurel’s heart to know just why Bertolt is rejecting the offer. Always talking about money to his wife, it must’ve gotten to Bertolt’s head. He kneels, gently stroking Bertolt’s hair.
“It’s my treat Bertie bug.” Aurel stands back up and buys the groceries including the apple. They walk out of the market with Bertolt gazing at the apple as if it were the most precious thing in the world. He gently combs Bertolt’s ebony hair back, massaging and giving scritches that make Bertolt’s lips curve upwards.
“Try it Bertolt.” The little baby boy looks up at Aurel before looking back at the apple and sinking his teeth. The apple juices flood into his taste buds, sweet yet tart, and his emerald green eyes dilate with hunger. He hungrily munches on the fruit as if it were something forbidden, enjoying the fleshy texture. It was the first time ever tasting something so wonderfully fresh and juicy. Aurel laughs seeing his son so chipper just for some fruit. “You’re really enjoying that aren’t you?” Bertolt nods his head rapidly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I wish we could’ve gotten more though...” Aurel’s expression quickly turns gloomy again. He continues to pet Bertolt’s hair with sorrow, as he watches Bertolt slowly begin to savour it as if he could never eat it again.
“Maybe one day, my little sparrow."
...
“Can I open my eyes yet Dad?” Aurel chuckles and nods his head even though Bertolt is unable to witness the action.
“Alright, alright, you can open your eyes now, pumpkin.” The ten-year-old boy opens his eyes; filled with confusion as his father holds an apple in his hand.
“Father...why are you holding an apple in your hand?” Aurel beams warmly at the question before removing the seed from the fruit, kneeling down in the soil. He holds his hand out to his son before coughing into his elbow, immediately triggering concern in his son, before holding his arm out, trying to calm down his son. He takes a deep breath trying to rein in his sickness before looking back at his worried son.
“I know you love apples son, so I thought you might want to plant a seed in our back garden.” But what if the Marleyans get angry at them? Planting even the smallest thing in the backyards was too dangerous; it was the Marlyan’s soil after all. Bertolt looks almost scared at the suggestion and immediately panics. Aurel stands up and cups Bertolt’s face in his hands. “Don’t be scared anymore son, we’re Honorary Marleyans now. We’re allowed to do this now.” Bertolt still has hesitation in his eyes before trusting his father's judgement and nodding his head. Though he’s wary, there’s a spark of excitement within his eyes. Being able to plant an apple tree in their own backyard without having to worry about any of the consequences seems like a blessing. The two sit in the dirt while Bertolt’s mind drifts somewhere else.
Bertolt glances at the crimson red armband, which he’s ‘earned’, feeling a load of guilt. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Does he truly deserve this? To have something so beautiful planted in his honour? He’s killed so many. Too many to count. And he’s going to do it all over again on the 'island of the devils'. He's nothing but a killing machine. Just medicine for his father to take, and he’ll never be anything more, never his own person, never someone memorable, never someone loved. Because the world is just that cruel. Bertolt’s pale green eyes grow duller by the second afraid of the impending doom coming on Paradis before Aurel speaks.
“When you come back, hopefully the tree has grown fully.” Aurel gazes at the seed fondly before placing it into Bertolt’s palm. “I want to see my little boy all grown up too. And we’ll take as many apples as you want, my sweet Bertolt.” He plants a small kiss on his son’s cheek lovingly, causing Bertolt to tear up. “I will always be proud of you son. Your mother is too.” He grips his hand tightly; making sure Bertolt knows the depth of his adoration. “You taught me to love Bertolt. And that’s all I need to call you a hero. Just come back home so we can sharecentreapples together. I promise, I won’t let anyone take one, that I won’t eat a single piece until the day you come home.” If Bertolt were any weaker, he would’ve broken down there and then and nuzzled into his father’s arms, begging him to just make the world stop, to not leave his arms and stay with his father. But instead, he takes a deep breath, pushing down those feelings once again and making sure to smile.
"Okay Papa. I’ll come home. Don’t forget about me.” Aurel brushes a tear from Bertolt’s lashes before digging a small hole into the ground.
“I will never forget about you, son. I'll remember you until the day I die.” Not a hint of dishonesty was in those words. Deep down, Bertolt already knew that was exactly what he'd say, but he just wanted to hear the reassurance. Bertolt places the apple seed into the soil and can’t help but the big curve of a smile plays upon his lips, crinkling those sparkling green eyes, and he almost squeals happily. He can’t wait to come home.
...
“It’s grown so much...” Aurel coughs violently into his handkerchief, now stained with blood. He goes out every night to the large, dense, fine-grained hardwood in his backyard. Though, much too weak now, he uses a wheelchair instead of walking like he used to. There are at least ten apples upon those forest green leaves that danced gently with the wind, hanging like jewels. Bertolt would have loved to eat some. He holds a small photograph that the family had taken just before Bertolt left. The parents kneeled to hold their precious little boy in their arms, making sure to squish him, eliciting a cute small smile from Bertolt. Aurel leans against the tree, staring up at the midnight sky with tranquil eyes. The stars sparkled so brightly and so glamorously as if he wasn’t suffering.
He knows, knows that his son is never coming home to him. Especially when Reiner was the only one who came back. He refused to talk to anyone, not even his wife, and cried until it felt like his heart was being torn apart physically. Losing his son, his treasured baby, he was so angry with the world. How could the world keep on going, so cruelly, so heartless to his suffering? It hurts even more to know that his precious boy will never know how proud he is. But every day he prays to God, an entity that he never believed was real, to please let his boy into heaven. Let him feel loved, not like medicine, to be used and cast away when finished, but as a son who knows his parents love him more than anything else in the world.
Bonk. Aurel looks down at the ground to see two apples beside him. He lets out a choked sob; his expression filled with confusion before replacing it with a tearful smile. Reaching down wcentres arm with great difficulty, he manages to get the two apples into his lap. The tears begin to roll, splashing onto the apples like raindrops. He hugs the apples like it’s the only thing that could ever offer him the smallest comfort because, perhaps it is. He wishes it were his boy instead, wishing to see what kind of person he grew into. He breathes through his gritted teeth, reining in his overwhelming pain before staring at the night sky with acceptance.
“Thank you for teaching me how to love Bertolt. Papa will be with you soon. And then we’ll eat all the apples you want from this tree."