forgotten, found;
yandere! saint-germain. major spoilers: for saint germain’s route (code: realize).
“What's your name?”
The question tastes strange on your tongue considering you’d been living with this man for well over a year, travelling the world together in search of a cure for your poison. Still, curiosity was never lost on you and Saint-Germain was no stranger to your sudden inquiries; he just never expected an inquiry pertaining to himself.
The clink of teacup against saucer punctured the air. He took an awfully long time to respond; normally he’s bemused by anything you say and always ready to offer age-old wisdom. How odd and beautiful this feeling was, to feel wanted by the person you love most. No one dared ask of his past before, and even if they had, he’d steer the conversation clear of anything remotely related to himself.
“Whatever do you mean, my love?” Playing the smiling fool has always worked, though he’s certain it won’t do much to sate the endless well of your curiosity. And how right he was, for your eyes still shone with a determination he couldn’t resist.
“Sorry, I...” You struggled to find the right words, knowing full well how secretive he’s always been. Asking him to open up to someone he’s known for only a year -- a year out of millennia -- is presumptuous of you, but perhaps you can be the first to enter the walls he’s built ‘round himself like a fortress. “You never told me your true name. It feels wrong to just call you ‘The Count’ when we’ve moved so...”, you stuttered on the blood that rushed against your cheeks. “...far in our relationship.”
The nameless man hums with thought before offering a nod, agreeing with your sentiment. “While I do agree, it’s been so long since I’ve had a name.” You tilt your head at this, and he realizes it must be a foreign concept to you; to live without a name must be heartrendingly difficult, but he’s managed to survive so long -- even if it’s against his will. Saint-Germain folds his hands and rests his chin atop the arch they create. “In my line of work, it’s not uncommon to create or... borrow identities for the purpose of completing missions.”
“That certainly makes sense,” you nod. “But don’t you remember your original name?”
“Mm...” He trails off, reminiscing of some far-off place and far-gone time. “I can’t say I do, but even so, I’m afraid I’d have to kill you if you ever learned my true name.”
“O-oh.”
The sudden clatter of your teacup wasn’t surprising in the slightest, though he felt terribly sorry for scary you like that. “Am I scaring you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I can be a little overzealous at times.” He smiles, unfazed by how unfunny you find his jokes. He always did have a dark sense of humor. “Still, I'd be delighted if you called me by a name you deem fit.”
You sputter at that and try not to choke on your own spit; that was... certainly a grand offer, perhaps more than you can handle. “I-I’m not sure. It feels wrong to name a grown man, no?” Biting your lips with worry, you suggest an alternative. “Why don’t you choose? I’ll happily call you whatever you think is fitting!”
“Oho?” If he wasn’t already smiling, you’re certain it’d grow to his eyes. “Then, my lady, I’m overjoyed to be called your husband.”
Bonus:
“...Was that a proposal?”
“Perhaps.”