He's free now. It's hard to accept. For about half of his life at this point, he had been a slave to someone. Since his father died protecting him, he was a slave to guilt and the Chasseurs. He trained with them to slay for them, even when he didn't think there was a God to kill vampires for. Then he was a slave to Moreau, a vessel for his ideas and his insanity. But now he was free, a boy of thirteen. Luna had taken you and him away, and he was loved again.

Out of all the things the ravenette boy went through, he was sure being loved was the cruelest. He knew know he certainly wasn't free; he was now a slave to affection.

You had come with him from Moreau's lab. You were number seventy-one. He saw you as a friend, the closest thing he'd had to one, and he couldn't help the fact that he would throw himself off a cliff to keep you from getting a scratch on your cheek, or a graze on your knee. He knew he should have been annoyed that someone like you took away all his burning desire to survive, but he knew at the same time you lit it— To see you smile.

The same went for Luna, the Vampire of the Blue Moon, Vanitas, whatever you wished to call them. They, a father, a parent, simply Luna, was so nice. Although Luna certainly wasn't the best in dexterity and actually running a house, the abundance of love was more than enough and XXXX never felt like he was obligated to do anything, like he was used to.

And even then, he was the same boy. He was certainly stubborn. He never showed his affections and feelings and always hid them behind a grimace or frown. But, deep down, he had one of the sweetest hearts ever. He knew, shamefully, he was a mess —though he called it being pathetic than kind— of love. He was used to honeying light hearted things in lies for a smile. Luna always teased him when he would intentionally lose games or do things so that you would get a moment of joy.

To him, you had been through enough and deserved the world over and over. He didn't even think about how many worlds he himself would deserve. If asked, the boy would probably say.... None.

Today's little incident of this was when he was baking. It was around winter, and Luna said that some Christians made this dish to commemorate something or other. Galettes Des Rois. Upon seeing the ides of it in a cook book, you immediately wanted to know what it tasted like. Perhaps the idea that you hadn't tried something so common for France spurred Luna to want it prepared. Immediately, the vampire went out and came with a basket of ingredients to make the sweet.

It interrupted XXXX's sewing, since he was the only one to really do the housework willingly, but he didn't mind. It was a rather quick decision for him to take up the job of making it than have Luna cook anything. He was convinced that the Vampire of the Blue Moon was cursed to make discoloured slop of anything they touched.

And it also meant that that XXXX could control the amount of fèves put in the sweet.

There it was. Whoever got the fève in their slice would be the king for the rest of the day. The person making it would put one Fava bean, or a small figurine, into the mix for one person to find.

The boy put in three.

He would never admit to it being intentional, although he never made mistakes when cooking to make sure he didn't make you or Luna ill. This once, he'd supposedly made an error. By the time that he cut the sweet into thirds and you all ate it, he was praying that Luna wouldn't ruin it.

He heard a crunch next to him where Luna was sitting, but silence other than that. Then XXXX felt a Fava bean crack between his teeth and then... Three, two, one—

And he heard your cheers. You had found the Fève, the 'only one' in the Galette Des Rois. You were the royalty of the day, and the paper crown set on the table was yours. That was all he wanted.

And so, as he always does when happy and affectionate, he rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on! I wanted it! Whatever; that crown's flimsy anyway, you know."