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"My, it's awfully quiet today. Are the students all out practicing for spelldrive?" Vil Schoenheit, the Pomefiore housewarden, stepped through the portal, teleporting to his dorm.
What was usually an elegantly lit hallway was now dim, seeming to have been untouched all day. Vil, just returning from a housewarden meeting that had caught him occupied all day, was utterly confused. Yes, spelldrive was coming up, but it wasn't likely for everyone to be out. After all, some students in Pomefiore cared more for grades than the "lousy fighting tournament", as some had said.
"Rook, Epel? Is this place really empty…?" The bottom of Vil's heels tapped on the velvet-colored marble floor, the echo loud.
Giving up, he headed for his room, clearly exhausted from the meeting. Though the lack of students in the dorm was quite strange, the odds of them actually disappearing or getting in some grave danger were very low. Plus, he's shaped them well enough to fend for themselves. The priority for Vil right now was getting a much needed nap. Maybe the no-student situation could turn out to be a blessing, for there would be no one to bother him as he slept.
Though, as if the universe heard him and decided to make his life miserable, the moment he stepped into his quarters, a familiar blond bob came into view, seemingly talking to… a closet?? Yes, Vil really needs this rest, as it seemed.
"Ah, Rook. What are you doing here?"
Rook muttered something to the closet and shut it closed with unnecessary force, emitting a faint "ay, watch it!" from the… wooden furniture. Turning to Vil, he laughed, bowing as he spoke. "Ah, my queen! Back from the conference, I see. How was it?"
"Tiring," Vil muttered, "Utterly tiring."
Rook’s smile did not falter, carrying on his act to the currently oblivious Vil. “How tragique,” the hunter sighed, placing a hand over his chest while methodically stepping in front of the closet. “To be burdened so heavily by the affair of lesser minds. A rest would be refreshing, oui, my queen?”
”Indeed,” Vil replied flatly, already heading towards the oh-so comforting bed, “Which is precisely why I would appreciate an explanation as to why my wardrobe is speaking before I go crazy.”
Rook paused, not talking for a moment.
“Speaking…?” the hunter echoed.
Just as he finished the sentence, a rustling came from the piece of furniture, followed by what could only be described as a strangled whisper. “Hey- Don’t- move-!”
Vil stopped.
Slowly, he inclined his head towards the direction of the wardrobe, which Rook was pressed up against very suspiciously. The other man laughed awkwardly, saying, “Oh my, the wood creaks with such life today!”
”My most trusted, loyal and dear hunter.”
”Yes?”
”Move.”
For a moment, the two simply stared at each other, neither taking a step forward or back. Amethyst eyes, sharp and unwavering despite exhaustion, met shining emerald green ones, dancing with far too much mischievous intent.
As the two continued to make out using eye contact, another sound came from the wardrobe.
”ACK-“
The queen exhaled slowly, trying to keep his composure.
”I will ask you one final time,” he said, each word perfectly articulated and precise, edged with steel. “Why… Is my wardrobe speaking?”
Rook’s grin widened. “Curiousity is such a beautiful trait, non?” he mused. “However, I fear some mysteries lose their charm when unveiled too soon.”
”That was absolutely not an answer. What are you trying to say?”
”The point is, my queen, that maybe you should wait just a longer before venturing into the hidden secrets of your wardrobe. Take a nap first, yes? It’s better to do everything replenished.”
As Rook yammered on, Vil zoned out, eyes flicking to the closet, still blocked by the other. Then, without a word, he stepped forward.
Rook shifted instantly, stopping him from walking any closer. “Ah-ah,” hummed the hunter, almost in a teasing tone, so close to Vil that the purple-eyed could feel the warm breath on his neck. “Surely something else would better suit your attention. A bath, perhaps? Or a well-earned rest? You mentioned your fatigue earlier-“
”Rook.”
The warning was unmistakable now. Even so, Rook only laughed it off softly, though there was a flicker of something behind it- anticipation, perhaps.
Behind the closet door, something shuffled once again. A hissed whisper came next, saying, “IF HE OPENS THIS I’M ABSOLUTELY LEAVING-“
”Shut up! He’ll hear us!” came another.
Vil grew even more annoyed, his eyes narrowing. “…There are multiple people in my wardrobe.
Rook, the theatrical man he was, placed a hand on his chest, as if struck by sudden realization. “How perceptive.”
Before Vil could say anything else, a louder thump sounded. “OI, WHO STEPPED ON MY-“
The door rattled. Obviously, there was something in there, and Vil was not going to waste another minute of his time dwindling about.
With one swift motion, he reached past Rook and grasped the handle. Rook, for once, did not interfere, instead just standing to the side, watching with a gleam of open delight.
Vil pulled the door open.
The room became deathly still.
The audience held their breath.
(Act along, yeah?)
Then, a cascade of students flooded out, an undignified heap of limbs, fabric, and poorly contained panic. At least three uniforms were wrinkled beyond salvation, one shoe flew off entirely, and someone- Epel, if the accent was anything to go by, hit the floor with a very unrefined yelp.
”OW-!”
Vil stared.
There was a long, stretched moment where time itself seemed to hesitate. He looked at the pile, then at the wardrobe, eyes finally landing on his vice housewarden.
”Explain,” he said at last.
Rook clasped his hands together, positively radiant. “Alas,” he sighed, “It seems the surprise has… unraveled ahead of schedule.”
Vil’s hardened expression did not change the slightest. “Surprise,” he repeated flatly.
From somewhere within the heap, a certain purple haired youngster groaned, pushing himself upright and stumbling out. “This is your fault,” he muttered to no one in particular. “I said we shouldn't have all crammed up in there-“
”You insisted we could, hello??” another voice shot back.
”Because YOU said-“
”Enough.”
The single word cut cleanly through the chaos, and immediately everyone shut up, all heads turning to Vil.
The Vil in particular stood there, posture perfect, gaze cool, though something behind his eyes had sharpened- interest, irritation… and maybe, just maybe, the faintest thread of a different emotion only reader-san could decipher.
”Rook,” he said, voice measured, “I trust you will provide a proper explanation. Right now, please.”
Rook placed his hand over his heart once more, bowing ever so slightly in the process. “But of course, my queen.”
he then straightened, smile curling. “Though,” he added lightly, glancing toward the door, “I believe the universe does not provide me enough time to explain everything, for they should be arriving any second now.”
Vil’s eyes followed.
And for the first time since stepping into the dorm, something shifted, subtle and quiet, yet unmistakable.
”They,” he repeated, “Should be arriving any second now.”
Somewhere down the hall, something clattered, then hushed shouting. A door slammed, and footsteps scattered. Hearing all of this outside, Vil closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, they were sharper than ever. “I see,” he murmured.
And then, the queen turned, facing all of his subjects. “Well?” he said, already stepping towards the door. “If this farce is to continue, I would at least prefer it to be done properly.”
Behind him, the pile of students scrambled to life, miraculously untangling themselves.
Rook stepped forward, taking his place next to Vil. “Ah, how radiant you are under suspicion.”
The moment Vil stepped into the hallway, the dorm seemed to… unravel.
Footsteps—hurried, uneven—echoed from somewhere deeper within. A door slammed. Another opened. Someone very audibly tripped.
“GO—GO—GO—”
“Why are you yelling?!”
“Because HE’S WALKING—”
Vil did not break stride.
Behind him, the once-collapsed wardrobe occupants scrambled after him in various states of disarray, whispering frantically like a flock of panicked birds.
“Why is he already out here—”
“Rook was supposed to stall—”
“I DID stall,” Rook replied cheerfully, gliding alongside Vil as though none of this concerned him in the slightest. “But one cannot cage curiosity, non?”
Vil shot him a look. “That was not curiosity. That was basic observation.”
Ahead, another figure darted across the hallway—cloak barely secured—before vanishing around a corner.
Vil’s eyes narrowed. “…If this is meant to impress me,” he said coolly, “you are failing.”
“On the contrary,” Rook murmured, leaning in just slightly, voice dipped low enough that it brushed only Vil’s ears, “I believe you are most thoroughly intrigued.”
Vil did not respond.
But he did not deny it either.
And so, Epel then took the lead, marching down a series of hallways before stopping at two large, ivory doors. “Welp- gentlemen, this is it!”
From behind the closed door then came a cacophony of poorly muffled noises, such as “IS EVERYTHING READY-“ or, “NO, THE LIGHTS-“ and finally, “WHO ATE THE-“. The screaming, panicked voices abruptly stopped as they heard the violent shushing which followed.
Vil stopped, and so did the students behind him. Rook stepped forward, placing himself just slightly ahead, one hand resting lightly against the handle. For once, his expression softened, something quieter beneath the usual theatricality.
“My queen,” he said, gentler now. “May I?”
The other, addressed as queen, regarded Rook for a moment, then sighed, answering, “Yes, you may.”
The hunter’s smile returned once again, softer, but no less fond,
As the doors were pushed open, once by Rook and the other by Epel, many things happened at once.
Lights flooded the room, confetti shot through the air, and a big banner rose up, which on it, written in bold letters, was “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VIL!!”
Gold, violet, and red decorations shimmered across the walls, some perfectly arranged while others… less so. The banner was just a tiny bit crooked, and the streamers and confetti caused a mess everywhere, but it was evident that the students had given it their all. In the center of everything, plated very carefully, was a cake, grand in size, and beautiful, as well.
Students filled the room. Not just Pomefiore- no, that would have been expected. These were uniforms of all colors, each from a different dorm. A flash of red from Heartslabuyl was spotted, and Octavinelle, Scarabia, even Savanaclaw, against all odds.
And at the center of it all…
A hush fell over the once busy crowd.
For Vil had not spoken just yet.
He stood there, framed by the doorway, light catching in his hair, lavender eyes sweeping across the room, taking in every detail. Every imperfection. Every effort.
Epel shifted from feet to feet nervously, tugging at his senior’s sleeve. “…Say something,” he muttered, loud enough for a few around him to hear.
”Not helping,” someone hissed back.
Vil’s eyes landed on the cake, and then paused. Then he looked at the banner, which was tilted- but only by a fraction of an inch. Then, finally, after what felt like ages, Vil spoke up.
”The symmetry,” he began, his voice calm and emotionless, as usual. “Is lacking.”
A collective ripple of deflation ripple through the room.
Yet Vil continued. “And the color coordination- while passable- could potentially have been better.”
Epel groaned, burying his face in his hands, groaning. “That’s it. I’m leaving-“
”However.”
Epel paused, and so did everyone else, waiting for the next line.
Vil did not give them the satisfaction of a quick response. Instead, he took one step forward, into the room. Then he took another step. His gloved hand brushed lightly against one of the streamers, adjusting it- just slightly- so that it aligned with the rest.
”The effort you all put in,” he started, quieter than before. “Is evident.”
The housewarden turned. And though his expression remained composed, there was now a more obvious hint of warmth. “Congratulations, you’ve all done adequately.”
Cheers sounded everywhere, students patting each other on the back and laughing in relief. Amidst everything, someone tried to lunge for the cake, only to be stopped by another.
”WAIT, WE HAVEN’T-“
”WHO SAID YA’ COULD EAT FIRST?? THAT CAKE WAS MADE BY TREY FOR VIL-KUN, NOT YA’!”
”WHO LET SAVANACLAW NEAR THE TABLE??”
Vil sighed, surveying the scene again. “How uncivilized.”
Yet despite his words, he did not leave.
———————————————————————-
The chaos eventually softened into something livelier- including music, chatter, and the occasional argument over something silly.
Vil stood slightly apart at first, observing the scene, a slice of cake in hand. He was alone, until a familiar voice approached.
”Enjoying yourself, Roi de Poison?” Rook’s voice, low and warm, slipped in beside him. Epel was with Rook, saying something about actually wanting to wish Vil a happy birthday, or see if there was anything he could do.
Vil did not look at the speaker immediately. Instead, he looked down at the cake, picking up a piece with his fork. “It is acceptable,” he replied.
Epel seemed to light up at these words. “Woah, high praise coming from ya’- ahem, I mean, I’m very glad this party seems to fit your standards, Vil-kun. Oh, and. Here.” As he spoke, Epel produced a small, neatly wrapped box, offering it to Vil.
Vil took it, slowly unwrapping the outside layer. When the box was opened, inside lay a very carefully carved emerald pendant, taking the shape of an apple. This had to be the work of Epel, for Vil could recognize the work of his disciple anywhere. To think that Epel, who was always defiant and seemed to hate Vil sometimes, would go to great lengths just to get the materials and spend actual time to make sure the details were perfect warmed the housewarden’s heart.
”To be honest,” Vil said, drawing out each syllable while attaching the pendant around his neck. “I was so caught up in everything that I had forgotten today was my birthday. Quite funny, don’t you think? For some people, their birthdays are the most important day of their life.”
He continued talking, but this time, directed to Rook and Epel. “You, Rook. You knew.”
Rook tilted his head, “Knew?”
”That something was being planned. You are many things, Rook Hunt, yet subtlety is not one of them. And you, Epel, dear.”
The periwinkle-haired straightened at his name, responding with a “Yes sir!”
Vil chuckled. Oh, this little one was adorable. “I hope for you to do a little better strategic planning next time. Perhaps a plan that is more efficient would help.”
Epel’s face flushed, turning into the same color as a ripe, red apple.
Then, Vil studied both of them. Almost imperceptibly, he said, “You two were the ones who organized it.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And the statement neither Rook nor Epel denied.
”I was merely a caretaker and overseer. The real credit belongs to Epel and his first-year friends. The devotion was all theirs.”
Vil’s eyes flicked briefly across the room again- students laughing, arguing, and celebrating. Then back to Rook. “And where does your devotion lie, my hunter?”
Rook’s smile changed, now more serious than playful. More certain. “My devotion,” said he, “Has never been subtle, my queen.”
Vil’s lips turned the slightest bit upwards. He inhaled slowly, then stated, “…You are such an insufferable partner.”
Rook laughed again. “And yet-“
Before the other could finish, Vil stepped forward, closing the gap between them.
(Viewers, if you have any romance-sensitive youngsters, now would be a good time to direct them to playing play-dough, or at least cover their eyes. -Grimm)
The gesture wasn’t dramatic nor drawn out. It was quick and precise, a fleeting peck on the lips. Just enough to silence him.
The noise of the party blurred for a couple of seconds, leaving only the two, along with a gaping Epel to the side.
Oh, right. Epel was still there.
Vil pulled back first. He muttered, “Try better next time. Your methods lack refinement.”
Rook blinked, a rare pause in his ever-flowing composure. Then slowly, he smiled. “Your standards are as exquisite as ever.”
Vil turned slightly, though not enough to fully break away. “And you,” he replied, smoothing an invisible crease from his sleeve, “should consider yourself fortunate that I am in a generous mood.”
The other man chuckled under his breath, looking longingly at the other in front of him. “Fortunate?” he echoed. “No, my queen.”
Leaning closer, he whispered, “I am most certainly blessed.”
And so, they returned to reality. Behind them, chaos ensued. Screams and shouts could be heard from all directions, along with a few who were cheering and clapping.
”I… KNEW IT!”
Epel stood near the center of it all, somehow teleporting twenty feet back away. “I told you!” the boy shouted, looking around as if demanding validation from every single person present. “I said there was somethin’ fishy goin’ on with the two!”
”Epel, really, we all knew,” someone sighed, clearly a bit exasperated.
”NO YOU DIDN’T-“ Epel snapped back, before catching himself, glancing at Vil.
Immediately, his posture straightened. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I mean… it was… pretty obvious, Housewarden.”
Vil turned his head from where he and Rook stood to acknowledge him. “Oh. Was it?”
Epel hesitated.
Because- well, y’know.
”Er… No.” he admitted.
The housewarden just hummed, satisfied with the answer. From behind him, Rook tried containing his laughter, but in the end, failed.
”Yeah, yeah, laugh it all up,” Epel said, rolling his eyes. “You coulda just said somethin’, y’know. Would’ve saved everyone a lotta trouble.”
”Where would the beauty be in that?” replied the hunter in a mocking tone.
The first year groaned. “You’re both impossible.”
Vil stepped towards Epel, leaving Rook behind. Placing a hand under the younger’s chin, Vil said to him, “This party is barely meeting standards. Although evidence does clearly show that everyone tried their best, that does not change the fact that it is still messy. Are you sure you’re in a position to judge? At least I do what I do precisely and neatly.”
Epel gulped, clearly intimidated. “Y- Yes, Vil-kun.”
Vil just exhaled, releasing Epel’s chin and patting his head. “Despite everything, your dedication to this is strong, and I respect a spirit like yours. I hope to see improvement next year.”
“You bet, Vil-kun!”
”Good, good. Now go run along with your friends and enjoy the rest of the party you worked so hard on to turn real. You deserve it.”
Some of the students, including Ace, Deuce, Trey, and Cater had come to wish Vil a happy birthday, all except Leona, who didn’t bother showing up, Malleus’s group, who were probably viewing everything from the roof, and Ignihyde, because never will Idia step foot into the outside world.
Many showered the birthday boy with gifts, making a pile tall and wide. Seeing this, Vil remembered something.
“So, Rook.”
“Oui, Vil?”
”Say, where’s your present?”
“Ohoho, so that’s what has been on your mind, hm? Well, of course, I didn’t come empty handed,” rummaging through his jacket pocket, Rook’s gift was a square, intricately embroidered box, and inside lay a brooch.
Not just any brooch, in fact, but one in the shape of a rose. The gold shimmered as Vil tilted it under the chandelier’s light.
”Everlasting and never fading, always preserved, just like my love and dedication for you.”
”Of course. What a thoughtful gift. Thank you, dear hunter.”
”Always, my queen.”