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Dan Heng does not like birthdays.
If he tries, he can maybe understand the appeal. The idea of receiving gifts, of celebrating another year of life, of sharing the day with your loved ones, might seem appealing to some.
But for Dan Heng, traitor of the Vidyadhara and the only man (boy) in this cold, lonely cell, the idea is completely foreign to him. Every year on his birthday, there is no celebration. There are no gifts, no joyous memories.
What there is, is a troupe of Vidyadhara guards entering his cell, and beating him black and blue until he can barely stand.
"Demon," they hiss in his ears, as they yank his hair and pin his tail to the ground. "Traitor of the Luofu, murderer of our youth. How dare you. How dare you."
Jing Yuan never comes to his cell that day.
Dan Heng is always left a broken mess, with the sting from his cuts amplified by the cold air of the longest Luofu night. He lays on his side and blinks away the tears. He curses his birth into this cruel, hateful world.
One more year of life? he thinks wretchedly. It would be better off if I was never born at all.
If there was no Dan Heng, if they had killed Dan Feng and smashed the egg of rebirth to glutinous pieces underneath the soles of their boots, he would have been spared from his torturous existence inside this prison of his. He would have never existed.
And yet… Dan Heng thinks, as he crawls closer to the wall and curls his bloody tail around him. The shackles clink against one another as he presses his back against the brick. I don't want to die. Not yet, not yet.
He reminds himself that over and over again. Because despite what the Preceptors do to him, despite the hatred of the Luofu Vidyadhara that clings to him like a vice, one day he'll be free.
And the idea of freedom is worth all the hell he's suffered in this cage. Above everything, Dan Heng's only wish is to see the stars with his own eyes — such a simple dream, but it means the world to him. He would suffer through any torture, for that one moment. That sweet promise of exile is the only thing that lets him survive.
When Dan Heng comes of age, he'll be exiled. Now that's a birthday he can cherish.
So he sits in his prison cell, hugs his knees to his chest, and scratches on another tally to the cruel lines that mark the bricks of his cage.
Dan Heng did not like birthdays.
However, that was before a very certain someone came into his life, and indirectly announced she would make it her personal mission to make him as happy as she possibly could.
Stelle, as always, is a whirlwind of change he cant tear his eyes away from.
"Birthdays?" Himeko had replied, a few days after the five of them (and Pom Pom, of course), had celebrated March's birthday with gifts and treats and well-wishes (Dan Heng had actually found it enjoyable, despite himself thinking birthdays were overrated). "Hm. Well, my birthday isn't easily translatable into the Trailblaze system year, so I've never really celebrated it."
Mr. Yang chuckles. "It's been a good few years since this old man has celebrated his own birthday. Sometimes I forget my own age."
All eyes turn to Dan Heng, looking for an explanation.
"I don't know when mine is," he lies.
The longest artificial night of the Luofu year, the day the moon shines the brightest in the night sky. That is when the Imbibitor Lunae is fated to be born with the unfurling of pink lotus petals, and a sharp crack in the shell that rings through the sombre air.
Of course, his birth was not under the moon's rays, but instead trapped inside the four walls of the room that would soon become the only home he'd ever known.
But a cell is not a home. And a birthday is not a celebration if there is no-one there to celebrate.
"Huh," Stelle says. She's biting down on her lip with a little furrow between her brows — something she does when she's thinking deeply. Dan Heng has it written down in his log.
Stalker, he can hear March joke in his head, and almost unconsciously he rolls his eyes.
"Well why don't we make the day everyone joined the Express their birthdays?" Stelle offers.
"What," March replies. "Like a Trailblazing birthday?"
"Exactly!" Stelle grins. She turns to Dan Heng, seeking his approval. "What do you think? The day we became a Nameless! You remember that day, don't you?"
Of course I do, he thinks — it was one of the happiest days of his life.
"That's a great idea!" Himeko agrees. "March's birthday will stay the same, and the rest of us will have our own birthdays regulated with the Traliblazing calendar."
"And if we've forgotten when we became a Nameless," Mr. Yang replies. "I'm sure the Conductor will remember it for us."
Stelle's counting on her fingers, probably trying to remember when her next Trailblazing birthday is. Meanwhile Dan Heng stands in the corner, arms crossed with his lips pressed together.
A Trailblazing birthday… he thinks. It's thankfully nowhere near his actual birthday. It might even be enjoyable, considering how nice March's birthday was, though his hopes aren't very high.
"I think yours is next Welt," Himeko says. "And then mine… and then Dan Heng's."
"Ugh," Stelle grumbles. "If I'd had known we were celebrating Trailblazing birthdays sooner, I would've bought party poppers or something for the day I joined the Express."
"We did have a cake," Dan Heng reminds her.
She grins at him. "Yeah, but March ate it all!"
"I did not!" March gasps. "And anyway, you ate most of my cake a few days ago!"
"Really?" Stelle answers. "I distinctly remember Dan Heng eating not one, not two, but three slices."
Dan Heng's lips quirk up. Stelle's giving him that signature crooked grin of hers, waggling her eyebrows at him.
"Don't drag me into this."
March scoffs. "Dan Heng? Eating more than one slice? I bet you stole it off his plate while he wasn't looking."
Stelle adopts a sheepish look, and Dan Heng rolls his eyes. She had — and, of course, he'd let her.
"Let's not get into the specifics," she replies, waving a hand.
They go back and forth with the banter, with Mr. Yang and Himeko watching on like two exasperated parents. Eventually Stelle ropes Dan Heng into brainstorming for Mr. Yang's birthday, even though it's still months away and they're due for Penacony soon, but he finds himself enjoying it all the same.
Hm, he thinks as Stelle plans out things like colour schemes and cake flavours, always coming back to seek his opinion like the sun shines its light on the moon. Maybe birthdays might not be as bad as I initially thought.
A month after Amphoreus, and Stelle's sorted through her complicated emotions and 'extensive trauma', as Lingsha likes to call it, enough to start thinking about the next exciting thing.
Namely — Dan Heng's birthday!
It's the third birthday he's had with the Nameless, and Stelle's determined to make it the best one yet. She knows more than anyone the hell he went through on Amphoreus, and she also knows how much he secretly enjoys his Trailblazing birthday, despite the passive expression he always likes to put on.
This birthday has another significance to it as well — it's the first one he's going to have as her husband. They got married pretty soon after Amphoreus (thanks to the 1000 years of searching and waiting that made them both 'co-depended like two wet kittens' as Evernight likes to say), and Stelle's never been happier.
She wants to share that happiness with Dan Heng. She's got to make this the best birthday yet — coupled with the best birthday gift ever.
Which means its time to plan something she's been wanting to do for a long time now.
"A surprise party—hmnph!" March cries, cut off by Stelle slapping a hand around her mouth.
"Shh!" Stelle hisses. "Not so loud! Dan Heng's literally in the next car over!"
"Sorry!" March whispers as Stelle removes her hand. "I'm just… so excited!"
She punctuates her words with a pump of her fist in her air. Stelle rolls her eyes.
"So," Sunday says. "What's on the agenda?"
"Three main things, I'd say," Mr. Yang replies, coming over to rest his hand on Sunday's shoulder. "Decorations, cake and presents. We have all of today to get that ready."
"Cake should be easy enough," Stelle says, rolling up a sleeve. "We just have to keep both Dan Heng and Himeko out of the kitchen."
"I'll leave you three on cake duty then," Mr. Yang smiles. "Meanwhile Himeko and I will decorate the Parlor Car. Shush will help."
March grimaces. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Terrible jokes aside," Mr. Yang laughs. "He can be helpful when he wants to be. And you know Himeko — she's out buying decorations as we speak."
"Himeko's taste in decorations is always good," Stelle approves. "Even if she always ends up buying the weirdest things."
Sunday looks at them both quizzically, wings fluttering in front of his face.
"How hard is it to buy decorations?" he asks.
"It's not that," March tells him. "It's just that… Himeko really likes gadgets and things. Especially when it comes to the newest inventions on the market."
"Untested inventions," both Stelle and Mr. Yang say in unison.
"Candles that sing you happy birthday in 10 different languages, refillable cake dishes that teleport the slices from a private aether-space hire, balloons that get you high—"
"We don't talk about that," they say in unison again.
"Oh dear," says Sunday.
"But it'll be fine this time, right?" March grins nervously. "We've got Black Swan accompanying her on her journey."
"I'm not sure how effective that's gonna be," Stelle mutters. "Still don't trust that memokeeper."
"Regardless," Mr. Yang interrupts. "All I need from you three is to make a cake. I'll keep Dan Heng occupied while Himeko is away."
"On it Mr Yang," Stelle grins. She still remembers the time Dan Heng made a cake for her — it's time to return the favour. She wants to include some golden fondant butterflies she ordered from a company Asta knows.
The three of them leave Mr. Yang to it in Parlor Car, and head into the kitchen together.
With Himeko out of the way, baking a cake should be easy right??
Wrong.
"Two eggs, not five!"
"Someone grab the sieve!"
"Sunday, watch out! Where's the timer gone?!"
"Smoke! There's smoke coming from the oven!"
"Watch the glitter!!!"
There's a small explosion, and Stelle watches the bag of glitter fly into the air, in a perfect curving arc above her head, raining a perfect shower of teal glitter all over her shocked face.
Poof. It lands on the floor with a final thump. Stelle blinks through the curtain of blue.
March stands on the other side of the kitchen, jaw agape.
"Uh…sorry."
Stelle blinks at them both, as Sunday covers his mouth with his wings and stifles a laugh. She flips him a rude gesture.
"I just had a shower," she groans.
"I think we all need a shower after this mess," Sunday replies.
It's true. There's batter on the walls, batter on the floor, batter in her hair. The scent of smoke hangs thick in the room, but despite it all the (third) cake looks salvageable. Stelle isn't even a bad cook and Sunday's the most meticulous person she's ever met, so she doesn't know how this happened.
"This," March says, "is what you get for buying joke ingredients from Penacony."
"That was Sunday's idea!" Stelle argues, arms crossed.
"How was I supposed to know the new trend is false ingredients from the Garden?" Sunday argues. "I have not visited Penacony in a year."
"You should know to never buy ingredients from Penacony," Stelle says, shoving her face in her hands. "'Rapid rising flour — no need to bake in the oven! Just think of a pleasant memory and your cake will rise! Now with only half the amount needed.' — who even designed that?!"
"In my defense," Sunday replies. "It did seem rather helpful at the time."
"If only we'd read the instructions," March laments.
They both shoot her a look.
"What?!"
"Have you ever read an instruction manual in your life," Stelle deadpans.
"Well, no, but—"
"Then this is your fault!"
Suddenly there's a sharp knock on the door, and all three heads snap around to the sound. Stelle blanches — she recognises that familiar knock (the knock she hears every night on her bedroom door, even though her and Dan Heng are married now and share a room. Old habits die hard).
"Quick!" March says, suddenly shoving Stelle towards the door. "Make up an excuse!"
"Me??" she says incredulously.
"You're his wife aren't you??"
Well she can't argue with that.
With another shove, March steers her to the doorway and promptly kicks her out of the room with a slam. Dan Heng stands, blinking, on the other side, as Stelle presses her hands against the kitchen door with a guilty expression she's trying desperately to hide.
"… nice look," Dan Heng deadpans.
"What?" Stelle replies, and then looks down at herself.
Her, very glittery, blue, covered in batter, self.
March!!! she shouts internally.
"Do you like it?" she grins, trying not to internally panic. She has to think of a lie, and fast, otherwise the surprise birthday is going to be completely busted.
"It's very… blue," Dan Heng says diplomatically.
"Teal, actually."
"I see," he says with a roll of his eyes. "Should I be concerned?"
He cranes his neck around, probably trying to plan a route to the door handle, but Stelle sidesteps and blocks it with her body. His attention snaps back to her with a slight frown.
"Bath bombs," she says quickly, lying through her teeth. "We're making bath bombs."
"…bath bombs," he echoes, skepticism thick behind his words.
C'mon Galactic Baseballer. You're a diplomatic master at winning an argument. You've made a grown man howl like a dog before. Lying to your husband should be easy peasy.
"Haven't you heard?" she tells him. "It's the new trend on Penacony. Making huge bath bombs from scratch — Sunday told us about it."
"I see…" Dan Heng replies. "So it's you and Sunday making these? Oh, and March too."
"Yeah. I would've invited you," Stelle replies. 'But Mr. Yang was keeping you occu— I mean taking you out to help him do a safety check on the engine, right? The engine that's all the way on the other side of the Express?"
She kind of hisses the last part through her teeth. Where the hell has Mr. Yang gone to anyway?? His job was supposed to be distraction!
"Mr. Yang had to go and check on Himeko and Black Swan," says Dan Heng, answering her question for her. "Apparently they ran into a group of Masked Fools? Of course they can hold their own, but they asked for backup and he was forced to go."
Stelle fights the urge to smack her forehead with her palm. Dan Heng takes a step forward and places a hand on the wood of the door behind her.
"Now, my turn for a question," Dan Heng replies.
And suddenly, he leans in closer and grabs a lock of hair, bringing it to his nose.
"You smell of smoke," he mutters.
And then, to make matters worse, he leans in, and plants a kiss to her lips, licking his tongue around his sharp canines once he's he's done. Stelle feels a part of her resolve melt into nothing.
This is what I get for sampling the batter, she thinks weakly.
"And you taste sweet. Why?"
The Galactic Baseballer is an excellent arguer and an ever better liar. But, unfortunately for her, she has one very glaring weakness.
And that weakness is a very pretty man, with a very pretty smirk and a very pretty face very close to hers.
"Um," Stelle says eloquently.
"Stelle!" Sunday suddenly shouts from behind the door. "If you want to decorate your bath bomb, I advise you do it now! March is about to use up all the pink glitter."
"Sunday!" March exclaims in mock outrage. "Don't tell her that! I need enough pink to make a batch of 6 at least."
Stelle whips around to face Dan Heng, who's self-assured look has quickly morphed into confusion. March following along with Stelle's lie isn't concrete evidence in itself, but Sunday chiming in has clearly thrown Dan Heng for a loop. She'd forgotten the newest Nameless was such a good liar.
Stelle lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, and then sidesteps around Dan Heng, ignoring the way her heart still thuds against her ribcage.
Finally, at that moment, Mr. Yang suddenly warps into the car, cane pressing against the floor to right himself, and calls out to Dan Heng.
"Ah!" he exclaims. "Dan Heng! Excellent timing. I need you to ahem log a new incident for me."
Stelle looks over at Mr. Yang.
"Everything ok?" she says, which really means: what the heck is going on.
"Everything's fine for now," he replies with a smile, which really means: I will tell you all later — for now finish off the cake.
Dan Heng looks like he's about to argue, but one brush of Stelle's fingers against his cheek is enough to kill any words on his tongue.
"I'll catch you later then, huh? Maybe we can test out my very glittery bath bombs later on this week."
He presses her hand against his cheek, and then releases it gently. "Alright."
He still doesn't look fully convinced, but as long as he's not asking questions anymore Stelle's happy. She turns to enter the kitchen once again, breathing a sigh of relief.
She's got a cake to bake after all.
Stelle didn't think it could get any worse after the cake incident, but there she was wrong.
Craning her neck up to the banners, she side-eyes Himeko and tries to fight the urge to laugh.
'Have a Very Happy Birthday!'… is what the main banner is supposed to say.
Except, as Stelle reads the words aloud, she realises that the run-in with the masked fools might have led to a sudden switch of the original decorations into… this.
"'Have an OK Birthday,'" Stelle sniggers, as Himeko looks on despondently at the banner. There's a flash, and then the words change around. "Oh, wait, no: 'Have a Mediocre Birthday'."
Another flash.
"Have a Slightly Better than Average Birthday," Sunday reads.
And another.
"Have a Disappointing but not as Disappointing as your Existence, Birthday," March giggles.
And another.
"Have a Birth," Mr. Yang says.
Himeko puts her head into her hands and groans.
"I need a coffee."
"I mean," Sunday says, as the banner starts to glow multicoloured and switch between different phrases. "I suppose the Navigator might get kudos for effort?"
"Negotiating with a Masked Fool is a feat in itself," Black Swan adds, materialising from a portal somewhere.
"The first mistake was negotiating with a Masked Fool in the first place!" March says indignantly. "If Stelle did it I'd understand. But Himeko?"
"I fear a good deal on a gadget blinds our intelligent Navigator to any shady dealers around," Mr. Yang smiles.
"If it was harmful to us or any of the Express Crew," Himeko argues, "I would have shut the deal down in a heartbeat. But I couldn't sense any malice coming from the Masked Fools, nor could I sense anything wrong with the banner itself."
"Neither could I," Black Swan admits.
"And we got our old Welt to check on the purchase too!" Himeko adds. "Even he didn't spot the woven Elation blessings in the decorations until now."
"Maybe it only activates when we're on the Express," Stelle muses. Dan Heng is seriously rubbing off on her — she's even theorising like he does now. "Y'know, thanks to Aha and Akivili being friends and all."
"Last time I checked," Sunday deadpans. "Aha blew up half of the Astral Express."
"Semantics," she replies with a wave of her hand.
"So, what are we gonna do about it?" March groans. "Should we make a new banner?"
"I dunno," Stelle grins. "I think it's funnier this way."
"Of course you would."
"How about this," Mr Yang replies. "The five of us will make a new banner and we can hang both of them up together. Meanwhile Black Swan and Pom Pom will distract Dan Heng over in another part of the car.
Black Swan gives a smirk that sets Stelle a little on edge. "Do not worry. I will find something… to pass the time. I've been wanting to search through the little Vidyadhara's memories for quite some time."
"Hey," Stelle says, pointing a finger at her. "Don't you dare do anything that Dan Heng won't like. We've both had enough of memoria to last us a lifetime."
Black Swan waves a hand, seemingly amused by Stelle's threat. Stelle wonders if she'd be less amused if there was a baseball bat aimed at her temple.
Woah, tone it down. Black Swan did help us out on Amphoreus after all, she reminds herself. She's not… that bad.
"You misunderstand me," Black Swan smiles. "I'm just going to help your husband with the nightmares. I can do the same to you later on this week, if you want?"
Stelle shudders. "Uh… no thanks."
"Suit yourself."
"Ok! It's time to stop talking and start moving!" March announces, clapping her hands. "Especially you Stelle! We've only got a few more hours before the day is up and we still need to wrap the presents yet."
"Going, going!" Stelle replies, running over to grab an armful of bunting, and her scrap-booking supplies.
Half an hour later and the five of them are arm-deep in creating a banner and gathering pictures for a mini collage. March wants to create the words 'Dan Heng' in pictures, with 'Happy Birthday' in big bright letters on the top (no glitter though — Stelle's had enough of glitter to last her a lifetime. There's still some in her hair, and she's washed it through five times already.)
"Will we have enough photos for—" Sunday begins, but he's cut off by March pressing a finger to his mouth.
"Never," she says gravely, "underestimate how many pictures I can conjure up in a short space of time."
Himeko and Mr. Yang exchange a parental look again. At this point, they really are the mother and grandfather of the Express.
True to her word, March produces a bunch of photos from spare albums she has lying around, and Stelle goes to grab some more pictures that she's printed out to fill in the extra space around the letters. They might as well cover the whole room in pictures at this point.
She smiles as she holds one up. In it, her and Dan Heng are holding hands, standing before Pom Pom with Sunday and March off to the sides. They're both in gorgeous wedding attire, celebrating in their own, private wedding on the Express.
(They're planning to host a larger one soon, before Edo Star, where they'll invite all their friends over to celebrate. But for now… the Express Crew is more than enough for them.)
In the photo, Dan Heng looks at her like she's the brightest star in the sky.
Stelle holds it to her chest happily.
She couldn't have asked for a better lover. And even better — the gift she has for this birthday will fit perfectly with something he gave her all those months ago, back on Amphoreus.
"Stelle!" March calls out. "You done printing the photos?"
"Got them!" Stelle replies and then runs back to where the others are gathered.
"This should be good," March says, as Sunday and her set to sticking the photos down. Mr. Yang is drawing something on a piece of paper, and Himeko is busy painting the letters of 'Happy Birthday'.
Stelle hesitates, and then picks up a paintbrush. She might as well paint something too! Something that accurately encapsulates the Nameless.
With her paintbrush in hand, she begins to create little pictures that she can stick around the new banner. As she works, her mind wanders to a late night conversation she'd once had with Dan Heng, sometime after the Luofu.
"I lied," he had said, his voice heavy with swirling emotions. Dan Heng has always been the most vulnerable with her after a nightmare. "I do remember my actual birthday."
"You do?" Stelle probes softly.
It's a while before he can speak again, and when he does, his voice is quiet.
"They used to curse my birth," he tells her. "The Preceptors. They used to kick me with the soles of their boots and throw me against the prison walls."
Stelle inhales sharply. What she wouldn't give to wreak Destruction on some of those guards right now.
No-one, no-one, should have to suffer through what Dan Heng suffered. Especially not Dan Heng himself, who is so endlessly selfless and loving… in his own, quiet way.
"I hated that day," Dan Heng continues. "Some days I still do. But as a Nameless… in the starry expanse of space, I can let my birth date come and go without paying it any attention. It's just another day on the Luofu for me. It holds no place among the stars."
"And what about your Nameless birthday?" Stelle had asked.
And Dan Heng had looked at her, with eyes that cradled the ghosts of his memories. For a second Stelle catches a glimpse of that lonely boy in that lonely cell, in a world which hated his existence from birth, and which cursed it with its every breath year after year after year.
But then he smiles, and that boy turns into the man she knows so well. The Nameless who fought to stay a Nameless, and who found a home on the Astral Express.
Like me, Stelle thinks.
"My Nameless birthday?" Dan Heng echoes, turning to watch the stars. His voice carries a certain level of reverence, that makes Stelle smile in return.
"It's the best day of the year."
Stelle sets down her paintbrush, and glances down at the little symbols and pictures she's painted.
A feather, a pair of glasses, a coffee cup, a pink flower and…
A star and a maple leaf.
She puts those two in the centre, and all the others dotted around them in various places.
"Hm," Himeko says, coming over and giving her a smile. "You've created my coffee cup to a perfect likeness. Look, there's even the chip from where Sunday accidentally knocked it over while reaching for the biscuit tin."
Sunday's wings flutter in embarrassment and he opens his mouth, before Mr. Yang cuts him off.
"Not to worry," Mr. Yang says. "I repaired that a few days ago. You might have to paint over the crack in your drawing, Stelle."
His voice is light and teasing and Stelle rolls her eyes.
"I'll keep it. It adds character. Just how you keep your glasses on even though we all know you don't need them."
Mr. Yang laughs, as March comes over with a triumphant hand on her hip.
"I think we've finished," she grins, glancing over at them all. "Oh, nice work Stelle!"
"Thanks," Stelle grins. 'And now… there's only one thing left.
They all exchange a glance with one another, and then hold up an assortment of scissors, ribbon and tape.
"Presents!"
Dan Heng… really does like birthdays.
Before Amphoreus, he used to keep a calendar next to his futon in the Archives. Every year now, he logs his birthday with a small drawing of a candle, to remind himself of the day he joined the Express.
Now that he sleeps with Stelle, his calendar has moved to their wall, and instead of a small picture the words: 'Dan Heng's birthday!!' are displayed in messy font, with two hastily doodled circles around the event. Stelle's drawn a small moon next to the event, and Dan Heng has scribbled a sun beside it.
He smiles as he wakes up to see the calendar facing him, the words gradually shifting into focus.
Turning around, he reaches out for Stelle… and finds her side of the bed is empty.
Ah, he thinks.
His heart always thumps a little harder whenever he wakes up and Stelle isn't beside him, pounding against his ribcage in fear, but it's a bit more manageable when he knows where she's gone. This is one of those times — Dan Heng knows exactly where she went.
After all, he's known about the surprise party for about a week now.
He absolutely, certainly, isn't supposed to know that the others are planning on surprising him with decorations and cake and presents, but if Dan Heng has learnt anything, it's that his caring family is absolutely shit at keeping a secret.
Stelle, to her credit, can normally lie on her feet. Mr. Yang is hard to read, and Himeko and Sunday have both learnt the art of diplomacy and disguising your true feelings long ago. Black Swan doesn't count, since she only comes onto the Express once a week now, to help up with the post-Penacony cleanup.
It's March that ended up telling him indirectly. They really should have seen this coming — she always has been a terrible liar.
He can count at least three suspicious things she did yesterday alone! Asked him for his favourite cake flavour 'for a friend', ushered him out of the Parlor Car with a surface level excuse that Black Swan was looking for him and, worst of all, he'd caught her rummaging in the drawers of the Archives late at night, looking for scissors and ribbon.
"What… are you doing?" he had said skeptically.
March had frozen like a deer in headlights, one hundred different emotions playing across her face.
"Uhh… getting scissors?"
"Why?"
March had licked her lips nervously and averted her gaze. Classing lying behaviour. Dan Heng sighs internally.
"Stelle's scrapbooking!" she'd blurted out after a silence that stretched on for far too long. "I was journalling with Stelle. Nothing else haha. Nope. Nothing. I'll just…"
She grabs the things she needs and bolts out of the room faster than Dan Heng can say 'birthday'. He rolls his eyes.
Well. It's the thought that counts.
Dan Heng slides out of bed and goes to grab a shirt, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. His hair is a mess. He tries to smooth it down, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
For a second, he remembers the wretched days in the Shackling Prison, kicks digging into ribs and the sting of knuckles slamming into his jaw, but that image is quickly swamped by the memory of March and Stelle, crowded around him as they all stand before a camera and take a pose.
"Happy birthday!!"
Dan Heng had reflexively thrown up a peace sign, Stelle's arm around him and March grinning from ear to ear. The picture had snapped, immortalised.
"Would it kill you to smile?" Stelle had joked, waving the photo in the air.
Dan Heng's lips quirk up. "Next time."
He runs his hands through his hair again to smooth it just enough so it looks presentable, and steps out of their room—
—only for two gloved hands to attack him from behind and cover his eyes before he can blink. Dan Heng makes a noise of surprise, and quells the instant reaction to summon his spear by his side.
"Guess who?"
If Dan Heng's eyes weren't closed, he'd raise them to the ceiling. "…my wife?"
"Got it in one!!"
He expects her to release him then, but Stelle keeps her hands on his eyes and whispers into his ear:
"When I step away, you absolutely have to keep your eyes shut tight. If you open them, I'll send you on a one-way warp to the Asdana star system."
Dan Heng's lips quirk up. "I won't."
Stelle takes her hands off and, true to his word, Dan Heng keeps his eyes closed. He can feel his pulse in his throat, but for once it isn't from fear, but excitement instead.
She takes his hand in hers and guides him carefully down the steps. The sound of whispers float by Dan Heng's ears, hushed, excited sounds that echo from behind the wall.
"Shh, he's coming!"
"Hide, hide."
"Pom Pom, get over here!"
Stelle steers him towards the door to the Parlor Car, and guides him down the stairs, one by one. All the while Dan Heng thinks about how he should react. He can't let them know that he's known about this surprise party all along. Especially not Stelle.
He's noticed how much effort she's putting into this birthday of his. Sure, it might be partly because she wants an excuse to celebrate now that they've (mostly) moved on from the hell on Amphoreus, but Dan Heng knows that there's also a part of her that wants to make this birthday special because its him.
Because she loves him.
Stelle's swings his hand in hers and slows them both to a stop. He hears Sunday and March whisper conspiratorially. Through his closed eyes, he can sense that the room is dark — they've switched the lights off.
What was the point of closing my eyes then? he thinks in amusement.
Stelle clears her throat.
"Dan Heng!" she announces. "Seal Master, Cold Dragon Young and most importantly, my husband."
"Member of the infamous Trailblazing Trio!" March exclaims.
"Archivist extraordinaire," Mr. Yang chuckles.
"An invaluable comrade and friend," says Sunday.
"The Bodyguard of the Astral Express," Himeko adds.
"And finally!" Pom Pom's squeaky voice finishes. "A Nameless!!"
Dan Heng holds his breath.
"We'd like to all collectively wish you…" Stelle says, squeezing his hand. She nudges him, and he takes that as the cue to finally open his eyes.
The lights switch on and what he sees steals his breath away.
"A very happy Trailblazing birthday!!"
Dan Heng stands there shocked to his core, and feels a lump rising in his throat.
Plastered across the wall are pictures and drawings of him, and his time as a Nameless. A huge banner: 'Happy Birthday Dan Heng!' is displayed on the wall, balloons are crowded in every corner and there's a huge cake covered in teal glitter and golden butterflies, standing proudly on a table that's covered in presents.
But all of that pales in comparison to the people standing before him: Pom Pom, Himeko, Mr. Yang, Sunday, March 7th and the person beside him, his lover for now and forever more.
Stelle.
It suddenly hits Dan Heng (like it has hit him every Trailblazing birthday before this, with the force of a train) that he isn't alone anymore. That this is the joy the authors and poets used to write about in the books he would read, on those cold hours of the longest night in the Shackling Prison.
"Do you like it?" Stelle asks him, a hint of nervousness showing on her face.
And Dan Heng laughs.
"I love it," he says. "I couldn't be happier."
"Woohoo!" March cries, pumping the air. "Mission success!!"
"It was a difficult preparation," Sunday smiles. "We even had a run in with the Masked Fools."
Dan Heng turns to the banner that's been flashing aggressively in the corner of his vision and blinks. 'Have a Birthday that's as Great as Akivili's Expression When I Blew Up the Express!!'
"Do I want to know where you got that from?" he says.
"It's better not to ask," replies Himeko.
"I'm glad you liked it," Mr. Yang says. "The other three kids certainly put a lot of effort into the cake, that's for certain."
"Pom Pom is still cleaning glitter from the cracks!" The Conductor huffs in mock-outrage. "Glitter is hereby banned on the Express!"
"Sorry Pom Pom!" chorus March and Sunday.
"Dan Heng! Come check out the pictures!" Stelle cries, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the picture wall. He stares at her, at her flowing hair that's tied neatly into an extravagant hairstyle (with the engagement hairpin at the centre, he notes with some pride), at her sparkling eyes as she glances back at him with a grin, and feels warmth bloom in his chest. She… really is beautiful. He has a half a mind to pinch himself to justify that he's not dreaming.
"We'll hand out the presents in a little while," Mr. Yang announces. "You should get dressed first, Dan Heng."
"And after that we have to head into the party car to dance!" shouts Himeko, sounding 10 Trailblaze years younger. She nudges Mr. Yang with an elbow as March crowds around Dan Heng and begins to point excitedly at the photographs. "Welt, shall we take it easy on your creaky bones and pick a slow song to start off with?"
Mr. Yang laughs. "You underestimate my dancing ability. I used to be an idol, you know."
"Really??" Sunday exclaims in half-awe, half-horror.
Mr. Yang winks.
As Dan Heng gets a paper crown placed on his head, and a kingly sash draped around his shoulder, he thinks he might finally, fully understand the appeal of sharing a birthday with the people you love.
He had felt it before, of course, but maybe it's because it's his third official Trailblazing birthday, or maybe its because March is busy placing her camera on a stack of presents and gathering them all together in the right places for a group photo, or maybe its because Stelle's hand is in his and she's looking at him with that quiet gaze of love while the sun ornament on her hairpin glints merrily in the light… but Dan Heng thinks that this birthday might be a little different this time around.
His happiness is already as clear as the moon on his face, but Stelle still plants a kiss to his cheek and shoots him a grin as she turns to the camera and says:
"Make sure to smile this time!"
"Of course," Dan Heng replies.
And he does.
A week later, and Dan Heng is laying sleepily in the grass, a few critters curling up around him as he takes a rest on this minor planet they've stopped by for no particular reason.
He likes this. Taking it slow.
With a hand braced against the sunlight, he stares at the birthday present that encircles his wrist and smiles.
The first year, Stelle had only known him well enough to give him generic presents that ended up being special to him anyway. A neck massager (which she'd kept stealing of course), a candle that smelt of sea salt (how did she know that he missed the scent of the Lunarescent Depths, which she'd never seen before?) and a mug.
"For our late night hot chocolate and trauma bonding sessions," she'd grinned, tapping the maple leaf on the mug twice as he'd rolled his eyes.
The second year, Stelle had known him better, had seen the depths of him that he had tried so hard to conceal. So she'd gifted him a calligraphy set, a diary ("I'm going to come into the Archives and scrapbook with you, so make sure you have snacks at the ready!")…
…and a pearl that sat in an oyster, something she'd found while wondering the seashore. It's iridescent gleam was the exact same shade as his scales.
The third year, this year, Stelle was his bondmate, his lover, his wife. She was his everything.
So she'd given him her (she'd cheekily wrapped herself up in a bow and waited in their room, legs swinging against the bed), a box of his favourite savoury snacks from Amphoreus (she'd worked with Jiaoqiu to dutifully recreate the recipe) and…
A bracelet.
He examines the sun pendant on his bracelet once again, lips curving up into a smile. She'd taken the one with the moon pendant, claiming that even though it didn't match her engagement pin, it was a little piece of him, and she'd wanted to keep it with her at all times.
He can't exactly argue with that. He enjoys the sun pendant just as much, rays gleaming outwards with a four pointed star shape in the centre. It's a gorgeous present.
But even better is its functionality.
He presses down gently on the star shape, and watches as it begins to glow a faint golden.
"Dan Heng to Stelle?" he says, voice rough with sleep.
And through the bracelet, her voice filters through.
"Lover, at your service. Wow, you sound hot. Did you just wake up?"
A critter murmurs a sleepy complaint about the noise and Dan Heng makes sure to keep his voice down.
"You could say that," he replies.
"You know you could've just called me," Stelle says. He can almost see her rolling her eyes.
"Hmm," he says sleepily. "Where are you right now?"
"In Herta's Simulated Universe," she grins.
"You know the Trailblaze connections don't stretch to metaphysical realms. I couldn't ring you if I tried," Dan Heng replies. "My phone is useless."
"Huh," Stelle says proudly. "Then I guess the only way to contact me is through the cuffs."
She's right — this was the best birthday present she could possibly offer. These cuffs, supposedly forged from Akivili's compass itself (though Dan Heng doesn't know how true that is) allow for contact with each other anywhere in the universe, the multiverse even.
And when Stelle had said anywhere, she'd meant anywhere. Herta's simulations, memoria tides, the far edges of the known universe, they've tested them in multiple places and every time Dan Heng has been able to hear Stelle's voice softly transmittimg through the bracelet from the other side.
And the best thing? They have an endless battery life. Which means… Dan Heng will never be permanently separated from Stelle again.
It's the best present he could have asked for. And he supposes it gets extra points for looking rather pretty too.
"Are you finished?" he asks.
"Almost," Stelle replies. "Just got a final simulated Phantylia to defeat and then I'm done."
He frowns. "Be careful."
"I always am," she lies. "Why, does the great Master Dan Heng want me lying by his side?"
"Maybe," Dan Heng says easily. "Or maybe it's because the critters on this planet want to see you. Who knows?"
"You," Stelle says through the comms, "are such a fake emo. Cold and reserved my ass."
Dan Heng laughs, and on the other end, Stelle laughs along with him.
"Go and give Phantylia hell," Dan Heng tells her. "I'll be waiting here for you."
"Catch you in ten," Stelle smiles. "Oh, and, Dan Heng?"
"Yes?"
"How long did you know about the surprise party?"
Dan Heng winces, as Stelle's sniggers tell him all he needs to know. He should've known she'd see right through him, just like he saw right through her. They really are both terrible at keeping secrets from each other.
'About a week," he admits.
"Agh! I'll get it right next time," she groans.
"I look forward to it."
The wind brushes through his hair and Dan Heng smiles the smile he reserves only for his lover, even though Stelle can't see it right now.
"Well, in any case," Stelle smiles. "I'm glad you had a good day."
Dan Heng shuts his eyes, and lets his hand fall back to his side. The critters share their warmth, and the bracelet hums merrily on his wrist, a constant connection to the person he calls 'home'.
His voice is soft through the comms as he replies:
"The best."