#pandora hearts break

Some art from last week I have forgotten to post ~

Depth Perception (Ao3|FF.net)

Fandom:Pandora Hearts

Summary: How did Reim get his glasses? || Two of the Rainsworth boys are having trouble seeing properly. One needs a physical fix, and the other may need something a bit deeper.

Notes: This was written for @phmonth2021, Rainsworth Trio Day 4 prompt: Glasses.

This was a bit short/fast, so I think I might flesh it out a bit later? But I really liked this idea and definitely thought it was worth posting what I had!! I hope you guys like it too!!

If you liked this fic, please consider commenting!! You have no idea how much your comments mean to me. They make my entire week, and motivate me to keep writing stories like this!!

*

Rufus Barma hadn’t been entirely convinced that taking on such a young servant would be productive. He was more than half sure he would get regularly distracted, and not do his job properly overall.

He was surprised to find that despite his young age, Reim had little to no interest in silly games. The boy was astute, he was respectful, and in fact his diligence was unmatched even in his adult servants. He always did all the work asked of him, no matter how much or how trivial. He was a model servant, and more than qualified.

The only problem…was that he couldn’t see.

Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He could see. He just couldn’t see well. Rufus all too often found him with his nose pressed against the paper as he worked. He ran into things in the hallway, and apologized profusely to vases. But whenever Rufus brought it up, Reim told him it wasn’t a problem.

Sharon realized this fact even faster than Rufus had—(a fact that, had he known, he would have found rather shocking). Even within their first meeting she could tell by the way he squinted and clumsily bumbled about that he was in dire need of a pair of glasses.

Surmising that the Duke was may be unaware of the situation, she endeavored to enlighten him. Her grandmother was heading over to the Barma Dukedom soon and suggested she come with her.

She hadn’t been over to the Barma Dukedom very often, despite her grandmother’s insistence that he really was a big pushover, standing in front of him she was rather intimidated.

“Duke Barma-sama I mean no disrespect, but I have come to make a request of you.” She said with her hands folded over her dress, her eyes down, and her grandmother’s comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Speak, Child.”

“Well…I just wanted to ask…” She wrung her hands. “I wanted to ask if you could…” She dropped her hands to her sides and said confidently, and a little too loudly, “Please get Reim glasses!”

Rufus blinked, taken aback.

“He stumbles around all the time, and runs into things an awful lot! One of these days he’s going to hurt himself! He really needs glasses! I know it’s not my place, but I’ve come to request that you please buy him a nice pair!”

Rufus’ eyes flicked to Sheryl, then he turned around to hide his smile. He silently walked over to one of the shelves behind him, pulling down something nestled between the books. He handed it to her.

It was a sort of oval shaped case. Trying to curb her fear that it might explode, she slid it open to find a pair of shiny gold-rimmed glasses.

Her expression broke into a grin, and when she looked up at Duke Barma, he was smiling too.

“Shall we present these to him together?”

She gave a nod beaming.

When Reim saw Duke Barma, Sharon, and Duchess Rainsworth walking down the hall towards him together, his brain didn’t delay in predicting all the terrifying scenes that might just play out in a moment, and tried to delay the self-destruct sequence that began to count down.

“Reim, young Sharon and I have a gift for you.”

Sharon held out the case with both hands.

Reim glanced from the two smiling imps, taking the item very slowly and cautiously, wondering not if it was going to explode, but just how it was going to explode, and how much damage he was going to have to clean up.

When he opened it his expression broke into to surprise.

With wide eyes, he flicked his gaze from his master to his friend, then to the Duchess.

“I can’t accept this.” He spoke flatly.

Rufus’ traded his smile for a furrowed brow. “Art thou refusing a gift from thy master?”

He bristled. “No! No! It’s just—this is too much, Rufus-sama!”

Rufus put a hand on his shoulder. “I do not consider it much, compared with the price of all the heirlooms thou hath broken.”

Reim froze, eyes wide.

“Many apologies, Rufus-sama!” His nose almost touched the ground as he bowed. “I will accept this most gracious gift with honors!”

Rufus leaned down and spoke to Sharon behind his hand. “Thou wouldst do well to use such methods with him the future.”

Sharon took a step forward. “Why don’t you put them on, Reim-san?”

Picking them up as if they were a valuable and ancient artifact, he ticked up the two sides, and slid them over his ears, looking like he’d been doing so his whole life.

He looked around at them all, finding that there was a lot more detail to their faces than he was generally privy to.

“I think they suit you perfectly, Reim-san.” Sharon beamed.

*****

It was those glasses. It took Kevin a while to realize. It was those glasses he hated.

He could rarely tell what was behind them, the light reflecting off them obscuring any expression within he young boy.

Reim hated him. He knew it. He must. He intuition was usually pretty good, and, no, he didn’t feel any malice off of him, but he was sure that behind his back the boy whispered malicious things, and gossiped with the rest of them.

It was those glasses that told him that. He was always looking at him with that indecipherable glass gaze, but Kevin was unsure he really saw him at all.

Kevin was just as creepy as they said, of course. It only made sense the children would be all that much more afraid and judgmental. It wasn’t their fault a murderer had taken up abode into their home.

…That didn’t make it any easier for Kevin to take.

He could handle the gossip of the adults. That was high society, after all. Such whispers followed him long before he arrived at the Rainsworth manor. But that of children…

—(“Kevin…Please don’t leave.”)—

That was a bit more difficult to take.

He longed to break them. To throw them to the floor, just to see something real in his eyes. To confirm his fears and assumptions.

And one day…the thread snapped.

“Shut up! Don’t pay me any mind….Don’t come near me… Don’t so much as look at me!”

The glasses hit the floor.

But the look in the boy’s eyes…it wasn’t one of malice or judgment. No anger or annoyance at his actions. Not even fear. It was one of simple surprise, wondering, and…compassion, even?

Was it possible that when he told him to stop…he was truly looking out for his well-being? That there wasn’t some ulterior motive? That Kevin’s intuition about the boy being a pure and un-violent soul was right?

When Shelly picked up those glasses, gently replaced them on the boy’s face, kind words mixed with reprimand for Kevin…he decided it might not be remiss to give the boy a chance. To try and meet the golden eyes behind those glasses, and realize that they may not mask something darker after all.

The next time he stumbled against the wall, and wanted nothing more than to shove Reim’s helping hand away, he decided to give in, and let him help him.

As Kevin leaned against him, the boy smiled. “It’s alright. I know what it’s like not to be able to see very well.”

After that, he learned to trust his intuition, not his eye.

Hereditary Loyalty 

Fandom:Pandora Hearts 

Summary:Do demon’s reside in the left hand after all? If so, Gilbert’s in need of an exorcism. || Exploring some of Gilbert’s internal monologue in chapter 78, and how current events relate to Break’s warning earlier in the series.

Notes:This was written for @phmonth2021​‘s prompt for Golden Trio week, Day 2: Obsession. (Sorry it’s late!)

I’ve always wanted to explore what Break said about his loyalty being an obsession at this point, so that’s what this prompt made me think of. 

I will likely need to edit and/or add to this, so forgive me for any little typos!

Your comments and reblogs mean the absolute world to me, especially for less-well known series like this one! So I’d really appreciate if you’d leave me one!!

*

As Gilbert lay, half asleep on the bed, the sound of a bullet ricocheted off the walls of his mind. It echoed, growling louder, gaining momentum, as it traveled back and forth.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you this…How can you be so devoted to your master? That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession? Saying it’s whole hearted might sound pleasant to the ears, but the way I see it, it’s simply abnormal.”

“Believe whatever you want. Regardless of what you say I—!”

“Let me give you a word of advice. A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear. Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

Those cursed words. The whispers of the bullet on its merry go round.

He’d taken them as an insult, then. Told himself Break wasn’t completely sane, after all. His devotion was indeed wholehearted, pure, and he wasn’t going to lose anything else.

They were a warning. A prayer for his well being. Not some misunderstanding or otherwise creepy proclamation. Break was too sane for any of their good.

Gilbert understood now. And he hated himself for understanding. Hated Break for being right. Hated himself for not listening. Hated Break for giving him something to not listen to. Hated the truth most of all, for just how nightmarish it was. All this had no right being real.

The gunshot rebounded again, and he dug his nails into his palm. His left palm. Always the left. Always the pain. Always the truth. The horrible memory. Though it would have been true without the memory.

Do the demons reside in the left hand after all?

He’d fired many bullets in his lifetime. Too many, perhaps. Some at targets. Some at Chains. Some at people. Some at the Baskervilles, who were somewhere in between. And he wasn’t always sure the decision to fire was right.

But those shots—even those situations a bit too ambiguous to be sure—didn’t echo for longer than a night.

This one. This one he knew would echo throughout his whole life if he wasn’t careful, or was simply a little too careless.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all. He was bound and broken to Glen Baskerville, because that’s what he was: a Baskerville. Etched into his name, the fabric of his flesh, his being. So here he was, spending the night on the dark side.

Not Oz. No. Never. Never. Never Oz.

“Shoot him.”

His left palm was bleeding now.

His Master. His best friend. His dear light. He’d swallow and bathe in dark if only for a sliver of light. He’d never, never, never hurt his precious—

“A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear.”

Oh but it wasn’t a blade, was it? It was a bullet. There is a difference, yes. Blades are quiet. Far less risk of tainted memory.

Loyalty. But it wasn’t his loyalty to Oz that became the bullet, it was that towards Glen.

“Is the one you need really Oz Vessalius?”

Damn him. Damn him for trying to help. Damn Gilbert himself for thinking him nothing but a useless clown.

How can I know if I’m not with him?

He loved Glen, once. Looked up to him. Idolized him. Cut and polished as his successor, his copy. And, once upon a time, he didn’t mind.

This loyalty was more than pure and blind devotion. He knew that now. It was something far more deeply ingrained. Something that branded and stained, and may just maim. He loved Glen from the start, yes. He was kind. A good king. Even as a child Gilbert could tell that.

But at some point he couldn’t tell what was his true feelings, and what was the magic curving its way inside him like puppet strings.

Where was the oath written again?

No prince should be permitted to disobey his king, after all. Even those whose relation was bloodless. Hereditary loyalty.

Couldn’t we do this without anything attached? Can’t we let our bodies move according to the request of our souls?

So his loyalty towards Oz…was it something pure, or something that immured him? He always thought it his most honorable quality. He was his steadfast servant, his chivalrous knight. But perhaps he only latched on because he was puppeteered and programmed to be a creature of service.

“That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession?”

Maybe this was how things were supposed to be after all. There was no such thing as love or fate, or dreams. Just the strings, the spiderwebs. We’re all cocooned, waiting for the poison to kick in.

What was he thinking? How could he think he didn’t really care for Oz? How could their adventures, their time together really mean nothing?

He loved Glen too once. And he couldn’t tell if even that was real anymore.

Glen’s successor, his copy, his soul, his left hand, his wings—

Raven.

The one thing he stole from him. The contract half-fulfilled then. Promises broken. Promised that couldn’t help but be fulfilled. The one thing that would ever belong to him. A chain half-connected. The ship might just drift out to sea that way.

Raven, whose seal lay in his left hand. His ever cursed left hand. His symbol of Glen, still.

“You will be bound by your left hand again.”

He felt like his face might break as he tried to keep both the tears and laughter that simmered beneath the surface from boiling over.

Break wasn’t the only one who’d tried to warn him.

He hadn’t understood then. Hadn’t understood anything at all.

Raven. One of Glen’s four black-winged Chains. The first. The first drop of four poured into the vessel. A ceremony cut in half by the sound of screaming, and the smell of smoke.

Raven who he created his legal contract with because he thought he could save his master. Raven whose seal saved his master’s life and sanity. Raven who took them from Cheshire’s dimension, who protected him and Break from the Baskervilles.

Raven, who had only helped since he’d made his contract with him. Raven who he shared a connection with. Raven whose name he even took at times. A name he took once to save himself the pain of his master knowing who he really was.

Raven who perhaps could be of some good now.

He sat up.

Oz wasn’t merely the reflection of Jack. And Gilbert wasn’t merely the reflection of Glen.

Maybe Raven wasn’t a symbol of Glen’s tyranny either. Maybe he was just the opposite. Maybe Raven belonged to him. Maybe Raven’s fire was exactly what he needed to break the unbreakable.

And there is at least one benefit to being a Baskerville.

He looked at his left hand.

“Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

He smiled, half mad. He had kept his eyes closed for far too long, and he knew even before he walked into the rain that he might just end up like Break after all.