What if I write a story about Saulus, screaming to the sky "Happy Birthday! Is that so fucking hard to say?!"
Screaming for her abstinent father and a mother she never had, a bottle in her hand, alone at night, what if I write such story today, huh? What then?
What if I write a story about Saulus,
in which Keith asks her when her birthday is, and she simply replies that she doesn't know. He laughs, wondering how she can't possibly know her birthdate. So she explains that she grew up in an orphanage and knows no life before that, and without parents, no one knows the exact day she was born.
What if I were to write that Saulus says that this wasn't so bad anyway, because birthday celebrations in the orphanage were understandably difficult with so many children, and sugar for cakes was as overpriced as toys, so they had to pool their money for the celebrations since they couldn't buy something sweet for everyone. So it remained exciting to know when it would be your turn to get a birthday cake or not.
Adding silently while leaving, that at some point, not celebrating at all is better, because it only keeps alive the hope that one day someone will come to congratulate you, someone who loves you, who is family, who has been searching for you, who wants you in their life. The hope and the wish for a day that would never come anyway - better if it dies sooner rather than later.
What if Keith turning to Gale as quickly as possible: "Gale, could you…?"
Gale already at the mixing bowl. "I'm way ahead of you!" he replies, handing him a brush "You take care of the honey for the cake icing."
That evening at the party, all the laughing faces and the many voices of friends, with all their stories, are almost as jumbled together as the drinks. And while Saulus gets herself another bottle and stands apart, observing the scene around the campfire with all its laughter, she feels the cold in the darkness as soon as one moves away.
What if I write that she went into the woods with her bottle, screaming into the dark night, its fading distant stars a lie: "Happy Birthday! Is that so fucking hard to say?!"
For the only stars left are the tears that gather in her eyes as she cries out for her parents, a family she never had, who never held her in their arms, and who never loved her.
"Not once. Not even once!"
The wish upon a dying star. Unseen. Unheard.
"I should stay open to you and do your will, but all that I should do is die with a father sending murder as the only word spoken to me. Ever. But I will not be your rotten puppet no longer, with the illusion of the prodigal daughter and a home."
An angry growl rips apart the deathstalker's mantle and throws the cloak to the ground, her distorted face once more turned toward the heavens where her father will never sit.
"All what you ever gave me was an execution! I know what kindness means - to be good and act in the greater benevolence. The people around me showed me the worth of this, of me, of love. I will not disappoint them ever and live a life to make them and myself proud. You can rot alone wherever you are. I will not pray any longer to a dead god and silent coward father to hope on to be heard and listened to. Without you or a mother, I found my family and I chose them - I don't need you - I never needed you."
And what if I write this story today, something about that Saulus would walk back, slowly, silently - only her little nose sniffling, until a familiar voice at the edge of the camp reaches out "Saulus, where have you been…are you crying?"
"I had to step out for a moment and fell in the forest," she quickly covers up, trying to wipe away the last tears and turn her face away.
"I was wondering where you were."
Keith puts his arms around her and starts to lead her back to her party, but notices her wet face and Saulus begins to sob again.
"That must have been a nasty fall. Let me see, are you hurt?"
His hands on her shoulders, while warm tiefling eyes begin to carefully scan her for injuries, overlooking the pain in her eyes until Saulus sighs deeply, rests her forehead against his chest, and wraps her arms around him.
"I'm glad to have you. All of you. Thank you for everything."
A soft smile plays on the tiefling's lips as he strokes Saulus’ hair and gently kisses her head.
"Happy Birthday, Saulus."
His voice is soft, a loving whisper as his lips part, but his hands never leave her. Holding unto his little bard.
"It's probably not even my birthday today," she mutters against his chest.
Keith smiles knowingly and lets his doll’s temper flare, because this time, for a change, it was her whose interpretation of his connotation totally failed her, oblivious to the turn of his thoughts, and that he had spoken different words for what he wanted to say.
Yeah, so what if I write a story like that today, huh, what then?
Keith is of course nyxie's baby! Not belonging to me, but immerged in this headcanon