Chapter Text
Being ‘reincarnated’ was a tiring ordeal. He had thankfully spent the first few years of his life in a haze. He didn’t know what he would have done with himself if he had remembered everything in excruciating detail, die of embarrassment probably.
The distant days of blindly flailing around were but a dream, one he could forget if he closed his eyes and pressed his palms into them often enough. As a toddler, the patterns swirling behind his eyes were hypnotic. He could spend hours watching those spirals dance in his eyelids.
He was watched often, taken care of often.
Not by people he would have to call his parents, but the maids that served the mansion. Thankfully, little-him was kind enough to not call them ‘mama’ in any capacity. The resulting catastrophe would’ve been something to behold.
Simple milestones were reminders of the idyllic times. First words, first sentences, little firsts.
His first steps were awarded with adoring coos from the maids watching him. The marble floors shined as brightly as the sun it was reflecting.
Oblivious to their grandeur, he had fallen down to his knees and continued babbling like any child would.
He had peacefully spent his time from baby to toddler tottering around and speaking nonsense.
Eventually, relearning his first language, English, was easy, the second, Italian, came just as naturally.
He could tell something was strange about him as a child. The younger maids who whispered a little too loud muttered that he was ‘a little unsettling’ often, but the older servants insisted that he was a delight.
That was likely because he was pretty quiet, and sometimes he thinks that he had endeared himself to them.
He couldn’t quite tell when he realised he had once been someone else and the memories snapped into place, but it was likely when one of the maids called “Young Master Mason!” when he had been caught trying to go into his father’s study and he had thought to himself, “That’s not my name.”
Unfortunately, his Remembering came with too many emotions for his fragile little toddler mind, and he burst into tears, the maid frantically trying to hush him lest she be fired. It felt like hours, crying desperately on the pristine floors until he passed out, head filled with memories that were once his.
He had spent the next few days sorting out his thoughts, his feelings on his death long ago, and his acceptance of it. With any luck, he wouldn’t have another breakdown like before. It would be embarrassing if he accidentally got a servant fired because he couldn’t handle his own Remembering.
Luckily, the embarrassing incident was never reported, and his secret stayed safe.
Thus, he began hiding a truth that he kept secret. He had not always been Mason, and he had been through a lifetime of events before. Another truth, this did not matter in this world.
A different truth, one not so secret. He had a sister.
Her name was Margot and he had never met her before. He barely knew anything about her, and he had honestly forgotten about having a sister for most of his life.
He had vaguely recalled seeing a little girl tumbling around with a clumsy braid, but he had never truly made the connection.
In the idyllic garden, yellow roses and hydrangeas blooming in droves yet perfectly tamed, was where Mason met her for the first time. When she came up to him while he was reading a picture book and clung onto his sleeve, he had frozen. He hadn’t recognised her at first.
An instinctual part of him wanted to pull his arm away. To shove her to the ground and get her to leave. Without thinking, he had already raised a fist in an impulsive decision to get the little girl to go away.
The little girl flinched. Mason paused. Once he actually looked at her, he could see the similarities between them. Their hair was the same colour, and their eyes so alike, and she looked so similar to him it was almost like they were twins.
Similar. Oh, this was his little sister. His sister. Margot.
With a heavy heart, he unclenched his fist, and pat her head gently.
He had never seen someone have stars in their eyes when they looked at him before.
Mason silently vowed to be a good older brother.
Soon after that, Margot had easily become a familiar presence in his life.
They played around like children. Well, Mason felt a little clumsy doing so. He had spent his lifetime a little off-centre until his Remembering. He let Margot take the lead when they played toys together. It felt like she was gaining more confidence that way.
She enjoyed reading storybooks, creating tales with dolls and climbing on furniture. In turn, he enjoyed making the stories so fantastic that they would get stuck for hours in one epic storyline.
In the endless garden, they didn’t have to be managed by the maids or servants. They got the chance to play around like children. Because they were children. Margot seemed happier with every passing day.
Mason felt like they got along, and that was enough for him to feel like there was a small candle of warmth in his chest.
The maids were very on-board with the friendship forming between their two wards. Swan-Maid, nicknamed after her feather-white hair and elegant poise, had lovingly rewarded them both for getting along with a few sweets. The victory and childish gleefulness over such small things made the sweets taste that much sweeter.
Even when Mason got old enough that he started getting dragged in for tutoring, they still met often. When they were both free, they would play together in the gardens. He could hardly wait for the times when he could drop acting stiff in front of his tutors and just play around with his little sister.
Mason didn’t particularly like his tutors. It wasn’t that they were bad teachers, they were good, if not very strict. They were obviously paid to teach the best-of-the best, they fit right in with the décor sometimes.
The problem was that Mason already knew a lot of things. It was mostly a matter of jogging his own memory that he kept tucked away, but it was hard to downplay his knowledge.
His tutors were very enthusiastic when they discovered what Mason knew. Luckily, he could rattle off a few excuses off the top of his head and they looked the other way. They all called him a ‘prodigy’ more often than not, and that did make him happy. A little embarrassed at the praise, but happy nonetheless.
For some years, Mason had felt like this life would be an interesting, but cheerful one.
However, here was another truth. Mason was the heir of a company. A powerful one. However powerful a ‘meat-packing industry’ could be.
He felt like he should’ve guessed it. The opulence, the grandeur, the maids and servants, the decadent meals that were incredibly meat-based.
The feeling that Margot was treated a little ‘lesser’ than him, for a reason he couldn’t understand.
Sometimes, Mason felt like he really should have paid more attention when the chef rambled about the dishes made for him during mealtimes.
The day the people he called his parents left their gilded tower of nonsense-speak was the day he finally realised he had been conceived for a reason.