Archive of Our Own ^beta

Embrace those wings,

Like when life was just beginning,

Learn to fly, learn to live,

For this advice is the only thing I can give.

Fly to the highest mountain in the firmament,

And remember what I've told you.

Try to see the world through my eyes,

Understand what things mend my broken heart.

Take my song, that of the dawn,

Take it into your heart and let it build you up.

Take my heart and my sorrow, what I laid with you,

And release it over the wide deep sea at last.

{𝔓𝔞𝔲𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔦 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔖𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔦 ℌ𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔶𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔰; 𝟚𝟚. March 𝟙𝟛𝟙𝟚}

~𝟘~

{Dec 20, 2021, late afternoon}

[Somewhere in Germany.]

Barely audible he spoke down that transcript again. Some words fell completely silent, had been nothing more than a soundless movement of the lips. His tired eyes followed the ancient letters written in ink, although the text had been burned into his memory centuries ago. He had read it, spoken it, whispered it, and called it into his mind hundreds of times.

He would never forget.

Forget how he had been handed the letter over 700 years ago.

Forgotten how his stomach turned, how he trembled, how the blood rushed inexorably in his ears until whatever sense he had left shut off, leaving him in an endless void.

It had been like a dull, surreal blow that had struck the then still young knight. A blow that crept up on him with the tenacious grasp of that proclamation, robbing him of his sense of reality and fantasy, numbing him and leaving him defenseless to his silent pain. The memories of that day in March already belonged to his faded memoirs, blurred in the gray, pale nothingness like the last bit of sunlight in the midst of a dreary foggy day. And yet he would have had to do nothing more than flip through his seemingly endless collection of diaries before he saw it all again in vivid images in his inner eye.

Gilbert gasped, his inner turmoil almost crumpling the paper in his hands that he had carried with him for over 700 years. The cool, salty air of the sea brushed against his face as a stronger breeze, drying his tears, which he no longer wanted to hold back. He would have been properly embarrassed if people had also been present to witness his plight. That the dissolution of Gabriel, the personification of the Order of the Knights Templar, still affected him so incredibly after 700 years must have seemed incomprehensible to many, and yet it was quite simple, or so Gilbert believed.

It had been like a red thread of life, invisible and yet clearly perceptible. Knotted with the lives of others, that thread stretched like a spider's web around society, letting people and personifications stumble past each other and weaving a thin thread at every encounter, no matter how small, that had the choice of being dropped or woven into a solid, almost inseparable bond. From afar, this appearance might seem almost idyllic and perfect, but nevertheless, even behind the most harmless, beautiful paradise there would be a price, a risk that everyone knew how to pay, no matter how big or small. For with a steel band was also connected the suffering that would remain in the hearts of those if everything broke, if the band was split in two.

The dissolution, if not death, of Gabriel was one of those sufferings that aggravated his soul, pressed it to the ground and made it crumble. For the value that this simple personification had for him...it rose immeasurably.

Gabriel had been there for him when he needed him.

But...where was he when Gabriel needed him?

Gilbert bit his lower lip tensely, visibly struggling with his forced pride and the rising sadness that he swallowed and gathered inside without ever dealing with it extensively and gently. He had to get it over with. He had to find a way to lighten the load on his shoulders, even if it was only through a symbolic act.

He dared to take one last look at the vast sea, fiery in the sunset.

One last time he skimmed the precious lines of the poem his old friend had written for him on the day of the final judgment, sent to him as a final gift...as the last work he would complete.

His heart contracted sickeningly, tearing him up inside.

His hands trembled, crumpling the paper little by little. Dragging his feet, he dared to stride toward the sea until the cool water sloshed into his shoes. With a tense movement, he took a swing and, at the same time as the helpful gust of wind, threw his friend's last words into the sea.

He released them...

Free as he had ultimately wished....

Carrying the requiem of a last dawn in his heart, throwing burden and sorrow into the sea....

And with them travelled the half of his heart he once lost to the knight, to the numb, dark bottom of the sea.

***

He stood there for quite a while, looking lost in the distance, hoping for some miracle to happen. Only when he felt the light pressure of his bird on his shoulder and smiled wryly at him, it tore him from his rigidity. The sun had already left the sky, now leaving the moon and stars to their daily tasks. Had he really stayed in this place so long?

Hesitantly, the albino turned around, preparing to head home, when suddenly a tall figure confronted him. From the overly groomed appearance alone, Gilbert could tell that it could be none other than his brother Ludwig. The blond had a real nerve, it seemed, finding him everywhere and appearing at the most inopportune moments. Gilbert gave an exhausted gasp. "What are you doing here and how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see you throwing trash in the ocean. That's pollution, Gilbert, you don't do that." Ludwig folded his arms in front of his chest, expecting a decent answer from his brother. That he, the younger one, had to admonish constantly, however, was nothing new. But the choice of words deeply hurt Gilbert, even provoked him. "That wasn't trash! You don't get anything either, again!" Gilbert didn't even notice how sensitive the whole situation made him and how his glassy, already swollen eyes only became more noticeable. It was beginning to worry the German, too.

"Gilbert? Are you crying?" he tried to be delicate, but still the Prussian fought back. After all, it was a matter of his honour and a sensitive weak point that was best not to come to light in the first place. "I'm not crying, I'm just sweating through my eyes!"

Unfortunately, that was not the answer the personification of Germany was hoping for, though he had made an effort to become more social and sensitive, especially in recent decades. "Gil. You can and may cry, just -"

"I'm sweating through my eyes. Like I'm going to cry, pah! I'm not a crybaby."

Ludwig sighed. Even though Gilbert understood and could relate, he was still faced with an inhibition Ludwig knew all too well. No matter how enlightened and progressive they tried to be, the influences of their childhood not to show weakness or anything like that still stubbornly clung to them.

"All right..." the younger one finally relented and opened his folded arms, "You should come home though, your train to Berlin comes at seven tomorrow. If you're late or the Deutsche Bahn is...overly punctual...again, you'll miss your flight to Vienna and your meeting with-"

"Grand Master Bayard, blah, blah, I know. Why did my order have to settle in Vienna again, of all places? Why not in Potsdam? At least Joan would be with me there, and their boss is a descendant of the Hohenzollerns. I could have shared my inside knowledge with their boss and talk about his great-grandfathers, but no." The Prussian was quite annoyed that since the dissolution of his country and the later eastern half of Germany, he had been demoted to the rank of an order again and had to constantly shuttle between his homeland and Austria. However, he had to thank his indirect neighbour and cousin for the fact that at least his order still existed. It was more or less a better life insurance than having to rely solely on cultural trifles that would disappear anyway over the years. The envy that his old order comrade Joan, who embodied the Knights Hospitallers, also had to have the "Prince of Prussia" as his boss, of all people, was discreetly bitter to bear, especially since the latter's title had only come about because of him.

"Life won’t fulfil every wish of yours, and besides, you'll finally get out of your basement room and be in the fresh air." Ludwig was unfortunately rather clumsy when it came to cheering others up, but at least there was some good will. Gilbert, on the other hand, slowly lost more and more interest in the conversation and would have preferred to go home alone, without his little brother mothering him to make sure he didn't forget anything. Ludwig had probably forgotten that he, Gilbert, taught him all of this in the first place.

"The fresh air there consists of exhaust fumes, horse manure and maybe 5000 trees. It's not very cheering..." The albino already went ahead and just left his brother there. He just wanted to go home and enjoy his rest. Gilbird, his yellow bird, had meanwhile dozed off on his head. "But you're right...let's go home..."

***

{Dec 21, 2021; 7:50}

[Lower Austria]

The next morning had dawned, the light of the rising sun casting bright patterns on the empty seats of the train. The iron wheels rattled, making their presence felt especially on the curving rails, while a glance out the window, smudged with children's hands, revealed how more and more hills crept up from the flat, vast land, finally finding their place on the horizon as mountains disappearing in the sunlight. The cliché of a snow-covered winter landscape of the Alpine country could not be found, unless a slightly sugared ground and hoarfrost in the trees made something. Even the edges of the track were covered only by grey slush. Every now and then, however, dense sections of forest crept in between, swallowing up the otherwise invitingly lit train in their darkness all at once.

Gilbird, meanwhile, had hunkered down in the breast pocket of his master's jacket, enjoying the warmth Gilbert was giving him.

For the albino himself it was not too exhilarating a sight, he knew the area anyway. Whether as a battlefield in the past or due to several travel routes, if one would go from Germany to Italy on vacation. He just sighed, quickly changed the playlist on his phone with a click and adjusted his headphones before looking at the digital timetable, which was attached to the ceiling and already covered by a grey, dusty blanket. Only a quarter of an hour to go, he thought to himself, already looking forward to finally stretching his legs. Gilbert was earlier than planned, because he had decided to leave a little earlier than planned, since in the evening there was a report that due to the sudden arrival of a snowstorm and some organizational difficulties, no planes could fly directly into Vienna. Therefore, the only solution that remained for Gilbert was to find a detour. So he had travelled in the middle of the night from Berlin to a town in Lower Austria and now, by means of a delayed train, he drove the last parts of the route to Vienna in order to be on time at the House of the Teutonic Order.

Still, meeting with the Grand Master wasn't exactly his favourite pastime either... at least the latter always had room for him in the guest area, so he didn't have to spend the day just riding the train, flying around and having meetings, but could also take a nap for some time.

Usually now he would think about how Gabriel had always pulled him out of sleep when he dozed off while he was working....

How he would get upset with him, but then laugh....

And in the end, in the evening, he himself fell into the grass, dead tired, with the lute in his arms, before returning to his headquarters for the evening mass and agape...

***

{Dec 21, 2021, 8:30}

[Vienna]

Baring his teeth, he looked at the gigantic clock of St. Stephen's Cathedral and began tapping his left foot on the floor tensely. Gilbird, on the other hand, alternately fluttered from Gilbert's head to his shoulder and back again. In a short while, his meeting would begin, and he was still stuck in the middle of the vast city - teeming with old-fashioned Theresian-style baroque buildings and modernist buildings - as his streetcar just wouldn't appear. Even the cutely-designed horse-drawn carriages that took tourists in particular for a spin through the old town arrived more quickly at their destination near the Imperial Palace. However, a wintry feeling did not arise despite the light snowfall, especially not when the snow on the streets was just lying around as a grey, slushy mass instead of turning everything into a winter wonderland.

The Prussian sighed and stared forlornly at the cloudy sky. Everything was grey and white. "If this keeps up, I'll just walk, I don't care now..." he grumbled under his breath and picked out the way via Google Maps on his phone. To his surprise, the way wasn't even that far, he would just have to find his way through the branching streets.

Keeping his eyes on his cell phone, he walked ahead, left Postgasse, walked along Wollzeile, until he finally discovered a shortcut via Riemergasse and Schulerstraße. He carefully guided himself through the increasingly narrow and monotonous alleys, obediently following the old, cobbled paths. A small shiver came over him, made his heart stop for a moment. It felt as if someone was nudging him from behind, even though neither man nor beast could be seen far and wide. Strange, Gilbert thought to himself, shaking his head. The stress of the last few days must have been driving him crazy, but despite this dismissive attitude of his emotions, the queasy feeling in his stomach remained.

Maybe he was just overreacting.

Maybe this sudden nervousness was just a product of his imagination.

Maybe the dreary day itself was simply putting him to sleep.

Gilbert didn't know for sure. He had no choice but to keep walking. His footsteps crunched through the shallow blanket of snow, painting patterns in the white, cold gift of sky with the soles of his shoes. Once again, he glanced at his watch; he didn't have much time left, so he had to keep moving quickly. His legs began to run automatically, continued their movements perpetually and for a brief moment he no longer felt them, already thought he was floating over the cold, slippery ground.

Gilbert looked up for a split second, noticing only in the corner of his eye a narrow alley that could take him directly to his destination. Suddenly he felt his foot caught in a hollow, started to sway and, despite all his efforts to stop, finally crashed onto the hard, icy stone floor; his little bird remained in the air, chirping excitedly. Probably he was worried about his master. "Damn," he hissed softly, not noticing the burning, stinging pain on his knees and palms until seconds later. It was getting colder, but at the same time warmer...Carefully the albino straightened up, recognizing the scraped palms, whose fresh, bright blood not only coloured his pale skin, but also ran down his hand as small drops, finally seeping into the snow as red stains. The blood drew into the white snow like ink stains into paper; it drew tiny little veins, infecting other snow crystals with the human colour.

Gilbert, however, did not let this stop him and made an effort to simply wipe off what little blood there was, at the same time looking around, searching for a landmark to know how to proceed. To his right was the entrance to Mozart's apartment, a museum in Domgasse, but to his left was a long alley embedded with tall, old houses leading to his destination. Arches connected the opposite houses to the ivory-coloured plaster; icicles slowly melting away hung down from them.

Gilbert first saw the old, squiggly writing on the first house before he caught sight of the dark blue sign with white letters.

"Blutgasse." (Blood Alley)

This name was familiar to him, threw up memories, yet he had no time for such reflections, which is why, without turning around again, he turned into the so called Blood Alley. What he did not notice, however, was the small bright glow that flashed just past him....

Silently and at a brisk pace, he strolled toward passers-by who were either taking pictures or making a detour to the restaurant, but apparently there was also a collection of history nerds who chattered about some random history fun-fact as they passed. Gilbert would have ignored it had it not been for one word that instantly made his ears prick up and gave him goosebumps.

There was talk of a legend about the Knights Templar, who apparently owned the Fähnrichshof/Ensign Court, but were murdered in 1312, only a few managed an underground escape to the Teutonic Order House. The blood of the slain is said to have flowed through that alley, which is why this patch of earth bore the name it did at that moment.

A sickening twinge in his chest surprised the Prussian, filling his heart with the purest melancholy and sorrow. He was aware that it was nothing more than an invented legend, yet it made him realize once again that Gabriel could never come back to him.

That he had lost him.

That he could no longer be with him.

Gabriel's order had made mistakes, so had his. Any kind of country or order, even any human being was not flawless and without blemish in this world. The Crusades, the other wars, they all carried nothing but suffering and destruction, Gilbert had not only had to learn that, he had witnessed it. He himself had been very stubborn as a child, perhaps even rewarded with the impetuous temperament that he carried even today, yet he knew how to distinguish himself from his existence as a personification and the Order in general. For not everything that superiors demanded or even directed applied to him. He was his own thinking person with individual values, opinions and ways of thinking. It was the human part of his existence; it was his own person, which, unfortunately, was also connected with a representative context with an assembled group. It was not always one-to-one harmony with the strongest of a society that one represented, because just as there were differences among them, there were also differences in the mentality of the personification. Gabriel, too, was characteristically different from his order, had always refrained from fighting and saw the meaning of his order's work in prayer, love and music. Precisely for this reason...he was perhaps so respected by every person who met him...because his human part aspired to the idyllic, the innocent, rather than violence. Gabriel turned primarily to the reason and purpose of his existence: to protect pilgrims on their journey to the Holy Land. Nonetheless, explicit accusations of Gabriel's dissolution remained unfounded, even unfair, to Gilbert.

Heresy, they said.

Sodomy, they said.

In truth, those in charge had only been keen on the money, found themselves unable to cope with their mountain of debt, and eliminated a factor of their debt by means of torture, executions, and judicial murders. But even this acceptance and the more peaceful coexistence with other religions in the Holy Land after laying down the sword of war and hatred for the foreign religions had stood in the way of the narrow-mindedness of the rulers and the church of the time.

"But it doesn't matter now..." the albino murmured almost indifferently, but visibly depressed, as he finally stepped through the imitation gate with its many arches, came back to a busier street and already spotted his House of the Teutonic Order from a distance. It hardly stood out amid the cream-colored buildings of Vienna, blending in appropriately, but the lancet windows were a more obvious detail.

"Well, and now it doesn’t matter anymore." You could literally see the enthusiasm in Gilbert's face, but just as he was about to turn his back on Blutgasse, he faltered.

He felt gazes on him.

How they pursued him wordlessly.

Uncertainly, he turned his head to the side, suddenly catching sight of a black-clad figure at the door to the treasury; leaf-green eyes sparkled at him. Chin-length brown hair hung in their face, had been somewhat dishevelled by the wind. Thick books were carried in the left hand, apparently this person was waiting for someone.

"Little late you are, huh?"

Gilbert knew the voice.

"Let's hope Bayard isn't too impatient with you.... I don't know him that well, you know."

Gilbert recognized the figure. It was Joan - formerly Johannes - of the Knights Hospitaller, his childhood colleague in the Order.

"By the way, I'm supposed to give you the books, you forgot."

Completely taken by surprise, Gilbert accepted the heavy books, was surprised at the sudden heaviness, because of which he almost threatened to topple forward. However, Joan's presence raised even more questions. "Thank you. But what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Potsdam with your friars?", Gilbert put on a wry smile, "You know, preparing Christmas masses and all."

But as disinterested as Joan was in the conversation, they still seemed to be trying to hide something important. "Nope." Swiftly, they flipped through their schedule to add emphasis. "I'm off for the next two days, so I'll pick up some books here and see what else is available. Last time I was on vacation, I went to Estonia briefly and picked up some stuff from there. The main thing is that I get more reading material together. You have to stay educated, so I won't take you as an example."

Gilbert then took a deep breath, could already feel the anger bubbling up in his stomach, and exhaled deeply again. Joan's comments had always been a case in point, and he didn't have time for a fitting comeback anyway.

Gabriel might have snapped immediately.

He and Joan were not exactly the most peaceful of pals.

"Well, thank you very much..." he murmured with rolling eyes, "I have to go now though..."

And with these words, he left the further order knight, scurried across the snowy street, already having snowflakes in his hair, and dashed through the huge gate into the old courtyard of the Teutonic Order House; Gilbird faithfully accompanied him. He did not even think about his scraped hands...

And just as little of the bright glow he had left behind in the blood alley.

***

{Dec 21, 2021, 16:02}

[Vienna]

White smoke rose from his mouth, the cold colored his cheeks and the tip of his nose a fresh red. His ears grew increasingly numb, no longer possessing any sense of warmth, as if they had been exposed to ice and snow for an eternity. His hands, however, rested in the pockets of his dark coat, not having to brave the piercingly sharp winter air. Gilbird had snuggled as close as possible to Gilbert's scarf for that reason. His feathers should not freeze.

From the once gray, desolate canopy of the sky, the winter sun finally greeted the evening with its distant yet magical golden glow that made the snow look like clouds. Like watercolors, shades of purple and orange stretched across the gray, drawing even a spark of light from the setting sun and sharing it with the whole world. Soon, however, that play of colors would come to an end, covered by a deep black, unable to resist it.

Gilbert leaned against the church wall, looking up at the sky exhausted; listless and without any enthusiasm. The meeting ended at about one o'clock, after which Gilbert was invited to lunch. It passed very silently, as it usually did in monasteries, which is why casual conversation between the friars was not possible until after the meal. Even the meal was kept very simple, after all, the Advent fasting period was not yet over. He had often heard how monasteries nowadays ordered a pizza in complete silence, which they then ate with their colleagues, but at the moment this seemed to be dispensed with. No sooner was the late noon over than he was left in the guest room to rest for a while. Gilbert had gladly taken advantage of the offer; fatigue had already been trying to catch up with him all day. Surprisingly, however, they had not even scheduled him for daily work in the order, so he was now entitled to a few hours of free time before evening mass.

The choice of going to one of the Christmas markets was tempting, after all, there were bound to be lots of cute little things there that Gilbert could give his brother for Christmas, or he would allow himself and his bird some candy and punch for in between. But nothing like that appealed to him enough; it was almost as if something else was calling to him, pushing all those consumer-heavy goods aside into the shadows...really pushing itself forward, as if it were an opportunity that had to be seized.

Gilbert touched his cheeks with his cold hands, patting himself to wake up again and not fall prey to the fantasies. This inner call existed only in his head. It was probably just because he was still sleepy and the penetrating noise next to a shopping street affected it accordingly. That's exactly how it had to be, Gilbert thought, anything else would be just imagination.

He arbitrarily trudged away from the Teutonic Order’s Church, not knowing where he was going, but his goal was simple: he wanted to go for a walk and defy the ignorance of his instinct. He quickly crossed the street and saw how restless and stressed people were strolling through the streets in the pre-Christmas season. - They did not wear even the smallest smile on their faces, a greeting among themselves could be just as forgotten.

Rolling his eyes, he hid haphazardly in one of the many alleys again, secretly hoping for silence and a quick passing of his time, when he suddenly realized that he had been walking in circles and that his path had led him unintentionally into the blood alley once again.

Perhaps it had been the silence that prevailed between the close rows of old houses that attracted him.

Maybe it had been the smell of fresh food emanating from the entrance of a small restaurant....

But just maybe something else had brought him here.

Then he suddenly stopped...

...could only hear his own breath...

...widened his eyes with the gradually advancing realization.

It was as if all at once time stopped altogether, as if the entire world stood at a standstill and only he and the passing creature at the other end of the alley would be able to resist the laws of the frozen world.

Gilbert was numb, unable to make a sound or lift a finger. At the other end, a familiar face emerged, a familiar feature that he had last seen over 700 years ago. But the moment did not last long, bursting as quickly as a raindrop touching the asphalt. For no sooner had Gilbert gained even a fleeting glimpse than the apparition disappeared again behind the next wall of the house, as if it had never existed.

The albino swallowed, straightened up and glanced at his pet, waiting for it to understand his question without words and to chirp in agreement. Should he follow up on his curiosity? Gilbird just shrugged his head, hopping on his master's shoulder. "What do you think, should we go and see?", Gilbert finally whispered to him. The yellow songbird answered with an excited peep, immediately taking off and flying ahead for the first few yards before turning to Gilbert and making an effort to lure him to him.

The Prussian obeyed his bird, accepting the gesture that it would lead him, and followed him through the snowy city sinking into the sunset. Past the many Christmas decorations whose lights lit up like thousands of stars on the ground, past the passers-by who didn't even dare to pay attention to him....

The wind whistled sharply past his ears, blocking out ambient noise. Snowflakes caught in his bright eyelashes, becoming water again within seconds, dripping down his face minimally. The clacking sound of his leather boots on the old cobbled street died away in his ears, and only Gilbird's striking yellow feathers granted him orientation.

He passed stores.

He passed houses.

He passed countless tangled alleys.

And finally...

In the end, they all led him to one place, Stephansplatz.

Although it was already late afternoon, onlookers continued to meander through the little serenades full of Christmas trinkets, buying sweets or odds and ends. It felt like a church’s market, but actually it was just the last days before Christmas Eve. The real landmark of this place, however, was the gigantic cathedral, which stood out more and more with its delicate details on the windows and towers, as well as the colourful tiles amidst the monochrome appearance of the city.

Gilbert looked up at the sky, searching for his little bird, but couldn't spot it at first glance. He drove haphazardly around, turned his head, and at first saw nothing but scattered groups of people, when a teeny detail near the wide gate of the Gothic cathedral caught his eye. His heart stopped for the moment; he could have sworn he saw a pair of blue eyes with a golden cross glow, along with wispy blond hair.

He almost looked like...

But as quickly as the figure had reappeared to him, it disappeared again. In the meantime, his bird had also returned, practically urging him to enter the cathedral.

Gilbert gave in to this request and reverently entered the magnificent, open church. He did not speak another word, letting his searching gaze wander through the wide nave, hoping to find someone who lived up to his suspicions.

Nothing...

It was dead silent.

Only the yawning emptiness and loneliness prevailed in this lifeless masonry, as if one had been completely sealed off from civilization.

Gilbert exhaled, his distressed mood evident in his hunched posture, and he sagged his shoulders limply as he came to a halt in the middle of a dim pattern of light from the nearby window rose. Almost invisible dust motes swirled in the light illuminated air, looking like matte glitter. The stained-glass windows painted a colourful play of colours on the dull, monotonous stone, creating a peaceful, beautiful atmosphere in the pale walls with the help of the setting sun. But the albino could not be happy about it. His head was tilted down and his bird twitched its head anxiously.

"So, I am going crazy after all." The Prussian laughed wryly, almost exasperated and tormented; the once-proud aura had long faded, belonged only to a facade anyway. "I'm just tired. I should go back...What do you say, Gilbird?"

But instead of an answer from the bird, only a human-looking shadow emerged beside him. It was almost as tall as his own, seemed to reach out in his direction, but backed away uncertainly. Gilbert blinked in confusion at first, raised his head a bit, and turned to the side.

Silence.

For the moment, everything was quiet. The world was at a standstill, nothing was stirring. The stopped time seemed to extend to eternity, although it was nothing more than a few seconds. The cold drifting in from outside no longer existed, nor did the penetrating smell of incense. Gilbert felt his tension; his legs growing heavier, the tightening of his chest, and most of all his blank head, suddenly forgetting everything he had ever known. His eyes were dilated, staring straight ahead in disbelief.

Blue.

Blue irises glinted at him in the dim evening light.

Gold.

Golden curls framed the roundish face, falling softly.

Red.

Red cheeks darkened a shade, a shy smile was given him. The light from the stained-glass windows painted red and blue, green as well as golden-yellow fragments of light on their skin; the orange-gold evening sun, peeking through the window rosette and the cracked gate, shone out from behind the figure's back, embracing them in its heavenly glow.

And all at once Gilbert's world was upside down; was forced to rearrange itself. Speechless, he eyed the shy young man before him, already thinking he had landed in the afterlife. "Hello," the blond with the wispy hair brought out softly, looking more awkward every moment. "Sorry, if I'm interrupting, but...we've met before, haven't we? Gilbert?"

The young man looked awkward, even afraid to say anything wrong. - His blond hair hung sloppily over his right eye.

Gilbert looked perplexed, taking a short time to process.

Was it really the one he'd been attached to for so long? The one he had missed for over 700 years?

"Gabriel? Is that really you?", Gilbert brought out tersely and shakily, greedily gasping for air.

There was a relieved, honest smile on the other's face. He blushed around the tip of his nose but nodded.

Gilbert stumbled back awkwardly, suddenly not knowing how to feel...It still seemed so surreal. "But I...I thought you were-"

"Dead?", Gabriel's laughter darkened, mirroring his agony. He drew closer to Gilbert, hating this distance between them more and more. "I thought so too...for a long time."

Gabriel faced him now, noting that he had grown since they were children, with only inches separating them and no longer half a head between them. "You must have heard about it...The dissolution, the trials...torture and the pyre stories. It would only have been a matter of time before it wiped me out entirely, too, and I used up my remaining lifetime as a personification."

He looked Gilbert in the eye for only a blink before turning his gaze to the blood-red candles.

"But how...how did you survive? I don't understand. It's a miracle that I even admit that."

"A lot of my people went to the Knights Hospitallers, then eventually converted, too, and the Pope bequeathed them all my property. They had dragged me along even though I was already at the bitter end. I had hardly noticed anything, only single pictures remained in my head. I don't remember ever leaving Johannes’ - uh...I mean, Joan's home. I was surprised that they didn't just leave me behind, after all, we didn't have a good relationship for a long time..."

"So... you spent hundreds of years with Joan?" Gilbert followed the narrative intently.

Gabriel nodded. "You'd think I was trapped in some kind of comatose state...After that, though, I had some catching up to do, including walking, of course, because I was weaker than ever..." Gilbert nodded in understanding, eyeing the pale, physically frail Gabriel. "It still shows...you've gotten so thin." He pinched the blonde's arm without changing his expression. Gabriel remained silent, seeking eye contact in vain. "What about you? You also seem to have-" the templar was interrupted. "Yes. I've lost..quite a bit, too. Let's put it this way. I just became so awesome and famous, whether it was because of something good or not, it doesn't matter. No one here will forget me so quickly."  "You're right, though..." Gabriel's hair fell into his face, individual strands shining golden in the light. He put his hand on his right, covered eye, almost making sure that no one could see it. Gilbert, however, noticed it immediately.

"Gabriel?"

"Huh?" he flinched, refraining from picking at his face.

"Why are you covering your eye?"

"I'm not, what do you mean?", Gabriel conspicuously fought back, placing both hands on his right eye, "It's nothing!"

Gilbert recognized the white lie. Gabriel was a horrible liar.

Gently, he placed his hands on Gabriel's shoulder, looking him in the eye.

It was just as blue as before, even the golden cross glow seemed purer than ever.

"Gabriel. You don't have to show me if you don't want to. I'm just worried about you, and maybe I'm curious too, but I don't want to force you."

Gabriel grew silent, looking at the tips of his feet rather than looking into his old friend's face. Enlightening Gilbert would make sense, if not the best thing to do.

But...

What if Gilbert found him repulsive as a result.

What if he only grew more distant from him?

Still, he took the risk. He didn't want to keep a secret from Gilbert.

"Look at it yourself. I can hardly look at myself with it."

"Okay..." the albino murmured back barely audibly, stroking his blond hair aside with his left hand while his right never left its place on Gabriel's shoulder. Alone during this activity, he noticed that Gabriel's skin became uneven and rough. It seemed like an injury to him. Only when the view of his entire face became clear did he notice the long scar that stretched from his forehead to his cheek. His right eye opened hesitantly, but had a pale, ice-gray haze instead of the deep blue color with the golden cross still visible in his left eye.

The fear and uncertainty of Gabriel, he could hardly understand.

"I'm sorry if I'm disgusting you with this. It must be a permanent scar...f-from when I...."

Saddened, the embarrassed Templar furrowed his brows and braced himself to see a disgusted face.

It never came.

"You're beautiful, Gabriel."

He brightened, widening his eyes in disbelief. The shining cross in them flashed hopefully.

"No matter how many scars you may have, I still love you with all of them."

Gabriel didn't notice his eyes watering; silent tears rolling down.

"Because they belong to you; tell a story. Your strengths and weaknesses only show..." he gently ran his hand over the tenaciously healing scar, "that you're also human."

Gabriel's heart pounded when they last saw each other, it happened the other way around.

"And you are more than that one detail." He whispered more, and only breathed a quick kiss on Gabriel's closed eye, just so his lips barely grazed his skin. Gilbert seemed to set himself a tolerance limit so as not to press Gabriel. The Templar himself showed not the slightest sign of rejection, enjoying the sudden affection without being afraid. In the past, the fire would probably have laughed at him, enclosing him from the tips of his toes to his wing-like curls and sending him to a living hell. But now Gabriel had little to fear....

So, he pulled the younger one to him and put his head in the crook of his neck. The tears had dried, the pounding in his chest quieted. Taking a deep breath, the young adult heard the familiar body odour of his old friend and heard the steady, strong beating of the other's heart.

I wonder if Gilbert had been excited to see him again, as he had been.

The albino looked away awkwardly, relieved to find that the church was no longer attended by anyone and returned Gabriel's embrace. Even though he might never want to acknowledge it himself, the simple affection alone gave him more comfort than he had felt in a long time. Perhaps it was because, as a grown man, he could hope for little physical contact, or perhaps it was because he needed just that affection from a particular person that another could not give. But Gilbert was pleased, and it was an honest pleasure, sparked without any pretence of his own. He tried to stifle a grin, however, or he would have been too embarrassed.

Silence.

The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, only the electric candles and the dim brightness of the sky gave them the remaining light.

The albino was the first to interrupt the pleasant silence. "How did you get here, anyway?" Gabriel opened his eyes and moved away a bit again. "Well..." he blushed a bit, "a few days ago, Joan said I should have gained enough strength by now to get back into company a bit. My 'new' orders don't know me yet either, as they either aren't recognized enough yet or have only recently been founded. Then Joan said you had to have an order meeting in Vienna and Joan happened to have moved their monthly international book trip here too...and-"

Gabriel paused and his lips traced a secret smile.

"And then I asked if I could go with them...because I wanted to see you on the first day of my new freedom..."

Speechless and unsure of what response to give now, the Prussian looked around. Should he answer with a "Of course you want to see me right away, I'm just so cool and awesome!" or with an "Aww!"? In the end, however, time was too short and the long pause in speaking would only have led to a comical situation with a spontaneous response, so Gilbert remained silent.

"I saw you out of the corner of my eye in the Blutgasse, but then you were gone again. When I stopped by Joan's again, they said you almost missed the meeting and meanwhile I helped them carry his new books to the car and we went out to eat. Finally, I looked around the area around Stephansplatz...and then I finally met you." Again, he smiled broadly. He had probably kept that habit from earlier.

Gilbert grumbled sheepishly. "At the latter, I think I saw you. And because I suspected you, I went after you with Gilbird."

"Gilbird?" the blond inquired curiously as the little bird spoke up on its own, flying away from the holy water dispenser and nesting itself right in Gabriel's fluffy hair. He used the curls, which almost looked like a wing, as a blanket, pretending that it made his wings much larger than they actually were in reality.

Laughing, Gabriel looked up, squinting one eye at the bird accidentally pulling his hair. "Like owner, like pet, right?"

"Hey!" pouted Gilbert, "At least I don't need any tools to be cool. I was born that way." Gabriel smiled mischievously and rolled his eyes. "Sure, you do, that's why they used to light you on fire, so you'd thaw out a little."

Outraged, the albino gasped. "You've clearly been spending too much time with Joan. They are a bad influence on you!" "Sure, they are," his counterpart said flippantly, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, whereupon the albino fell silent for seconds.

His stomach tingled; his heart stopped for a moment before it continued to pound at top speed. How he would have loved to return a similar gesture to the fragile young man. Gabriel didn't even seem reluctant. Perhaps he would allow him a little closeness, after all, he was giving it to him as well.

Carefully, he put his hands to Gabriel's cheeks, resting his forehead against the other's. He waited to see if Gabriel would unexpectedly push him away, but instead he just rested his arms against his shoulders. Gently, his lips brushed over Gabriel's, ultimately lingering on them with a light pressure before, surprisingly, Gabriel returned the spontaneous kiss shortly after, strengthening it. It became quieter in their chest, their head went blank, their senses tightened and everything around them seemed to move away from reality, their reality. All at once, their world turned into a white blank page, far from the places they once were. There were only the two of them left, and the feelings between them, enclosing them in a safe bubble until one of them managed to burst it.

It only lasted a few seconds, but had felt like hours, if not eternities, when Gilbert broke away from him with a red haze on her face. Her pupils were dilated, a shameless smile stepping into the evening light beside the blush for both of them.

"I hereby pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom, but stop making out here, that's really not proper in a church. No exceptions," a familiar voice suddenly burst into their shared moment. It was Joan, standing with their arms crossed, leaning against the church gate.

Gilbert and Gabriel, as well as little Gilbird, flinched in fright, a wave of heat hitting them with a thud. Did someone else see them?

"Joan?"

"Yeah, who else?" he rolled his eyes and left the gate behind them, "Listen, while it's cute to watch you guys reuniting with each other, but please save some for later. Gilbert, evening mass at your place is at six o'clock, I'd advise you to leave in a hurry. Gabriel, you need to eat something again, you need to keep your schedule!"

The three former knights looked at each other, perplexed, before they all burst out laughing together for the first time in years. The way it used to be...

Used to be, when they were children.

Before, when they cared little about the future.

Before, when they met for the first time.

~0~