A House Filled With Night
The Heart That Weeps From Afar

Far away, in a distant location of which no city dweller had heard or seen, the Sons of Midnight convened for the evening. They gathered in an oddly extravagant but dark salon, draped across plush ottomans, lounging on the velvety carpets, and otherwise bored. All the brothers, that is, except for one. Just in the next room, an empty chamber with nothing but a couple of windows, Torin sat on the floor, staring at the bright red apple in his hands with glazed-over eyes. He was in a world of his own, completely unaware of his brothers’ attention.

“Look at him,” said one, shaking his head. “Just look at him.”

“Good grief, the poor fellow looks half dead.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

At this, another brother resurrected himself from the depths of the couch cushions he had been sleeping in. “What’s wrong? You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Do you, Casimir?”

“My friends,” said Casimir, smirking, “Our Torin has met a girl.”

“The apple?”

“Yes, Fiske. The apple.” He rolled his eyes. “She gave him the apple, you see? That’s why he won’t let go of it. It’s the first gift anyone besides us has ever given him, the poor bastard.”

“It’s the first gift anyone has ever given any of us,” said Sylvain, the tall one.

There was a lengthy lull in the conversation after that.

“You did something to that apple, didn’t you, Niko?” Sylvain asked. “It should be rotten by now.”

Niko, the youngest of the group, nodded solemnly. “Torin wanted me to keep it the way it was forever. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“It’s fine.”

“No it’s not—” whined Fiske, shaking his head so that his black locks flew all over the place. “Torin is so boring these days, he’s driving me crazy! He loves that stupid apple more than me. You should’ve let it rot, Niko!”

“Calm down,” said Casimir. “It’s his first time. He’ll get over it eventually.”

“I don’t know about that,” mused Sylvain. “I’ve had a strange feeling about Torin these days. Something is shifting.”

Niko stared off into the room where Torin sat. “I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s not normal for him.”

Another pause.

“Hey, it was Torin’s birthday the other day, wasn’t it?” asked Fiske.

“Mm-hm.”

“What did we do for him?”

“Sylvain baked a cake. And we went to some dance.”

“He’s twenty now. That’s an important year for him, right? He’s becoming a man.”

“Where are you going with this, Fiske?”

“We should do something nice for him! Something he’d really appreciate right now. Look how pathetic he is. He’s doesn’t even realize we’re talking about him right now. It’s just not right. No one should look that sad after a birthday.”

“Why don’t we just go get the girl and bring her here?” suggested Niko.

Fiske jumped up and pointed at him. “Exactly! Good idea! That would be the best birthday present ever!”

“Wait, wait,” interrupted Sylvain, sternly. “We cannot bring a person here.”

“Why not?” Fiske protested. “I brought a puppy. Lala likes it here.”

“I brought a cat,” added Niko helpfully.

“One time I brought...a dead rat, I think?” Everybody turned to look at Casimir, who decided it was about time to go back into his couch for another nap. “Ehh, maybe I didn’t tell all of you about that. Sometime later, maybe.”

“But she’s a person," insisted Sylvain. Now that Casimir had checked out, it was just a back-and-forth battle between him and the younger brothers.

“So?”

“She might tell somebody about the House, about us.”

“That won’t be a problem if she never leaves.”

“How can we ensure such a thing?”

“You’ll figure something out. You know all about the House.”

“I—” There was a moment of silent hesitation. “This is a bad idea—”

“Ah-ha,” Fiske smirked. “He’s already agreed to it.”

Sylvain messaged his temples. “I haven’t agreed, you fools, I just feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. There’ll be no peace until you have your way, will there? I am convinced that we will absolutely regret this. But then I’m sure that doesn’t matter, since no one ever listens to me these days.”

Fiske jumped up. “You’re right, we would go get her either way. But sadly, we do need you.” He hopped over to the couch and shook Casimir. “Hey, Casimir. Go and put Torin to sleep. We need that apple, too.”

“Wait a second,” he grumbled, rising from his cushions again. “I never said I was going to help. I’m extremely comfortable at the moment.”

“But Casimir, how are we going to get the girl without you?” said Niko.

“...Fine.”

Thirty minutes later, Torin was out cold in his bed. The remaining Sons of Midnight gathered around Fiske, who held the treasured apple. He sniffed it, carefully and thoroughly, almost like a bloodhound.

“Are you getting anything?” asked Niko.

He took one last sniff. “I think you did a good job of preserving it, Niko. Her scent is still pretty strong.” He smiled. “I can definitely find her.”

“Who’s coming?” asked Sylvain.

“I am!” shouted Fiske.

“Surprise, surprise,” muttered Casimir. “How long is this going to take?”

“I think everyone should go,” said Niko. “Just in case.”

Fiske was already shrugging off his shirt. Two mishapen, blackened scars ran down along either side of his spine.

Niko glanced over at him. “They’re still fresh—”

“It’s fine.” He smiled brightly. “I’m really fine.”

He bent over and started breathing heavily, gripping the back of a chair with both hands. Sharp, black stubs pushed their way through the scabby skin of his back. He couldn’t help but let out a sharp hiss.

“Sit down, Fiske,” Niko said, holding his brother’s arm and pulling him down to the floor.

Fiske breathed more heavily as a black skeleton of wings grew, their edges sharp stretching farther and farther into the air. With a final gasp of relief, the wings unfolded, revealing sheer flaps of translucent skin. For a moment, he sat there, heaving, before pushing himself onto his feet. Two dark wings stretched out behind him.

“I’m ready. Let’s go.”

—

“Where are we going?” asked Casimir, his nose scrunching in disgust. “This neighborhood smells like old cabbage.”

“Fiske, are you certain we’re going the right way?” Sylvain called quietly.

Fiske, who rode ahead of the group on a glossy, black horse, seemed not to hear the question. His wings fluttered in the wind behind him, eager to be put to use.

“Are we still hidden, Sylvain?” asked Casimir.

He nodded.

“Good. Because I’m about to throw up and I don’t want anyone to watch me doing it.”

“Wait, wait! I think we’re here.”

Fiske had stopped in front of an old building with many, tiny windows. It looked like it had been trying to die for many years, but was being held together by the sheer desperation of its inhabitants.

“What is this place?” asked Niko.

“I believe they’re called boarding houses,” said Sylvain knowingly.

“Where is she?” asked Casimir.

“Fourth floor, second to last window on the right,” answered Fiske, pointing. “I’ll take Casimir with me. You need to make sure she stays asleep, okay?”

Casimir barely processed what Fiske said before his brother had hooked arms underneath his and whisked him up into the air. Casimir spat a stream of curses into his brother’s ear which was received with nothing more than a giggle. They stopped short at one window, bobbing up and down as Fiske panted, “Pry it open!”

“Why me?”

“Because my hands are a little occupied at the moment!”

“Fine.”

Grumbling, Casimir reached out with one arm and scratched at the latch.

“It’s not opening.”

“You’re not even trying!”

"Fine. Turn me that way.”

“This way?”

Casimir gripped onto Fiske’s arms to steady himself, coiled in his right leg like a spring, and kicked hard. Glass shattered everywhere, falling like bits of starlight down to the ground.

“What the—Casimir! You’re going to wake her up!”

“Calm down,” Casimir muttered. “Get me in there.”

Fiske flew close to the window so that Casimir could slip through the tiny opening. After his brother made it in safely, Fiske flew backwards a little and then propelled himself in like a black bullet.

As he entered, he saw Casimir slowly approaching the girl. She had bolted up from the cot where she slept and was staring at the two of them with wide eyes.

“Fear not,” murmured Casimir, meeting her gaze steadily. He hummed a low, quiet tune. For a moment, her brow furrowed in confusion. But as the peculiar melody slipped inside her ears, her entire body went slack, and she fell back into deep sleep once more.

Casimir caught her by the back. He said nothing: silently observing her face, wondering if they would regret bringing this girl back with them. There was only so much you could tell from a face, but Casimir liked simple expression she wore while she slept. She couldn’t cause too much trouble. He’d probably get used to her—just like he’d gotten used to Fiske’s puppy, Lala.

“Hey, is she really asleep or what?” Fiske prodded.

“Wait a moment.” Casimir dug through his pocket and produced a small, bronze ring. He slipped it onto her pinky finger first, but it was too big. It finally fit on her middle finger. “Done.”

“Oh, is that Sylvain’s ring?”

“Yeah.” Casimir scooped up the girl and passed her to Fiske. “Let’s go. Take her first.”

Just as quickly as they had come, the brothers slipped out of Eidar with their sleeping captive. The city had not even stirred. It was not troubled by the absence of one more nameless working girl.

Back at their home, all the Sons of Midnight (sans the sleeping Torin) convened back in the salon where their plan had first been hatched. Casimir dumped the girl onto a couch. They stood around her, watching silently, saying nothing.

“I suppose we didn’t really think this far into the plan...” Sylvain said.

Niko scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “What’s this girl’s name?”

“Runa,” answered Casimir.

“Did Torin tell you that?” protested Fiske. “How come he didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Oh, right.”

Silence returned.

“So where are we supposed to put her?” asked Niko.

“We could put her with Lala,” suggested Fiske.

“No!” cried Sylvain. “Good grief, don’t you fools realize this is a person? A person, understand? We can’t just give her a bowl of water and some food and put her to sleep with the puppy.”

Fiske pouted. “But Lala’s really sweet.”

“So where do you suggest we put her, Sylvain?” asked Casimir.

“Uh...”

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~ A/N ~

Where would you put Runa? Me, personally, I would probably put her in the pantry right between the rice and the beans. Seems like a nice, dry, cozy place to hang out. Anyway, raise your hand if you’ve ever kidnapped a random person with your brothers and then realized you had no idea what to do next. Yeah, me too.

I’ll probably start posting on Fridays starting next week!

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