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Emilio stares at the child brought in front of him with the promise of being the actual daughter of his wife. He asked the child’s caretaker to leave, to enjoy the hospitality of the duke’s estate as an honored guest, allowing for a quiet reunion with his daughter.
The child’s eye color matches his own to an uncanny degree, and so does the hair, even if it looks slightly damaged, and rather thin toward the end. The peach dress clashes with the pink hair, but Emilio supposes it’s the only dress of quality they’d been able to find that wouldn’t look entirely out of place.
Children are so small; this one barely reaches his chest.
Emilio sighs.
“You are not even a girl,” he says flatly.
The child - the boy - flinches, and buries his hands in his dress. To his credit, he does not immediately try to bolt and keeps staring into his eyes with an odd determination that reminds Emilio of his oldest son.
“The owner said I’m pretty enough to be one.”
The boy is a quick one, realizing at once when the game is lost.
Contemplating the boy’s words, Emilio reconsiders the hospitality they’ve shown the boy’s caretaker. Sending him straight to the dungeons was much too kind. They should have tortured him a little first and informed His Majesty that there was yet another trafficking ring active in the capital. Emilio was certain that His Majesty would not mind taking care of the burden. He was always strangely pleased when he could pay Emilio back for supporting his ascension.
Glancing at the boy again, Emilio makes his decision and turns to the butler.
“My late wife gave birth to quintuplets, actually,” he says with a straight face. “Tell the girls they have a brother.”
The boy opens his mouth and closes it again, obviously confused. His expression is adorable and makes Emilio smile. The poor boy will most likely be a little overwhelmed when the girls barge in, but he is certain the boy will fit right in.
“The Young Masters will be delighted to get a younger brother this time,” the butler assures.
It’s a kind assessment that could not be any further from the truth. He’s fairly sure his two eldest sons might actually throw a fit this time at the audacity of trying to pass a boy off as a girl. Maybe he ought to send Dante to the Imperial Knights Academy, let him blow off some steam that way.
“What’s your name?”
The boy blinks. “Larus.”
He smiles at the boy— his new son. “I’m glad you’re finally home, Larus. Let’s see if your older brothers’ clothes fit you.”
His wife has always wanted a big family. He’s sure that she would approve of him taking in these children, regardless of whether they are blood-related or not. They need a home and Emilio has enough wealth to provide it.
“Are you not going to kick me out?” Larus asks.
Emilio shakes his head. “No. If anyone is desperate enough to bring a child to my doorstep, it is my duty to take care of them. You have four twin sisters now.” Emilio pauses. “Do you know your birthday?”
“Winter,” Larus replies. “I’m twelve. I’ll turn thirteen next year.”
“Hm, your oldest twin sister is already fifteen this year, but your youngest has just turned eleven.”
Adelina was small for her age when they brought her to him, as typical of half-elf children, aging a little slower, while Camilla is pretty tall even at eleven. Out of all his adopted children, none of them are born in summer and none turned thirteen this year.
Larus frowns. “I’m not sure you know how being twins works, Your Grace.”
Emilio laughs and runs his fingers through Larus’s hair. His fingertips brush over hair clips – a good explanation as to why the boy’s hair looks so strange. They must have dyed strands of horse hair perhaps and woven them into his natural hair.
“Well, people struggle to be truthful either. Now, let’s go find some pants for you, unless you prefer skirts.”
Larus pulls a face. “As long as it’s not orange, I don’t care.”
Yes, Emilio has found himself a good son this time.