The Rosetta estate felt alive that evening, though not with the grandeur of a noble ball. Instead, it carried a quieter, warmer rhythm—the kind Alex had asked for. Lanterns glowed in the garden, their light spilling across trimmed hedges and polished marble paths. A long table was set beneath an oak tree, draped in linen and dotted with golden candelabras.
Inside, Alex stood still while his nanny and personal maid, Cecilia, fussed over his collar. She was small and silver-haired now, but her eyes carried the same warmth they had since his childhood.
"Stand straight, young master," she murmured, tugging at the hem of his coat. "It's your birthday, after all. You should look your best."
Alex smiled softly. "You've been saying that every year since I was five."
"And I will say it when you are fifty," Cecilia replied with a brisk nod, though her hand lingered on his cheek for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Happy birthday, my dear boy."
Before Alex could respond, the doors opened. His father, Lord Rosetta, entered—stern as ever, but there was something almost softened in his eyes tonight. He raised a glass, his voice steady.
"Alex. May this year bring you strength, clarity, and honor to our name. Happy birthday."
Alex inclined his head, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. "Thank you, Father."
Lord Rosetta did not linger long—he never did. With a final nod, he excused himself, leaving space for the evening to unfold as Alex wished.
Not long after, Louis Rosetta strode in with his usual easy grin, giving Alex a small wrapped box . "Don't say I never get you anything, Big brother."
Alex caught it, arching a brow. "Should I worry about what's inside?"
"Only if you've developed a fear of pocket watches." Louis winked. "Happy birthday, Alex." He clapped him lightly on the shoulder before adding with mock-seriousness, "Don't let those academy brats outshine you too much."
"I'll keep that in mind," Alex replied with a chuckle.
Louis stayed only a short while, trading a few jokes before departing, but his presence left a trace of fondness behind.
By the time Cecilia and Sir Luke Anderson had finished arranging the last of the dishes, the sound of laughter and footsteps filled the courtyard. The gang had arrived.
Kael Skyrim was first through the gate, as composed as ever, offering Alex a respectful nod and a gift wrapped with neat precision. Edrin Vale came right after, practically glowing as he held out a carved stone pendant he'd made himself. Saphira Thorne swept in with elegance, carrying a small but finely bound book of rare records from the academy library. And then, of course, Riven Havana sauntered in last, smirking like he owned the night.
The evening bloomed with laughter. They ate together, traded stories of duels and near-misses during exams, and teased Alex about his sudden breakthrough.
"You've been holding out on us, Alex," Edrin grinned, raising his glass. "Next time, give a little warning before you outshine the hall."
Kael nodded approvingly. "It was well earned."
Even Saphira's lips curved into a warm smile. "I suppose you've managed to surprise us after all."
But it was Riven who leaned close, clinked his glass against Alex's, and whispered just loud enough for him to hear: "Proud of you, Cupcake."
As the night wound down and the stars shimmered above, Riven finally produced his gift. He set the small box before Alex, eyes gleaming with mischief and something deeper.
"Go on. Open it."
Inside lay a delicate golden anklet, polished until it gleamed in the candlelight. Alex blinked, startled. "Riven…"
Before he could protest, Riven crouched low, his hands steady as he took Alex's foot gently into his grasp. With uncharacteristic reverence, he fastened the chain around Alex's ankle, the cool metal warm almost instantly against his skin.
Then, without hesitation, Riven bowed his head and pressed a lingering kiss to Alex's ankle—and then to his toes. Not teasing, not mocking, but slow, deliberate, filled with quiet devotion.
A hush fell over the moment, though the others politely busied themselves with conversation to give the two privacy. Alex's cheeks burned, but he did not pull away. For once, he let the affection settle over him, as grounding and startling as fire itself.
Riven looked up at him with that crooked smile, but his eyes betrayed sincerity. "Happy birthday, Cupcake."
Alex swallowed, his voice low. "Thank you, Ry."
And beneath the golden glow of lanterns and stars, the night pressed forward—quiet, warm, and unforgettable.