It was another lazy day.
Perfect weather. Perfect silence.
Well—almost.
Reese lay on her bed, arms sprawled, eyes half-open.
There was noise somewhere far away. Shouting, footsteps, laughter. People were busy. Probably for Rielle's engagement party.
Reese blinked. Slowly.
"Too much motion," she mumbled to herself. "Disgusting."
The door creaked open.
"Milady?" Anne's voice was gentle, practiced from years of speaking softly to someone who didn't want to be spoken to. "I brought snacks."
That earned a flicker of interest. Reese tilted her head like a cat who heard the treat bag rustle.
Anne set a tray down beside the bed and offered her lady a cookie. "Come now. You should at least sit up."
"I am sitting up," Reese murmured, mouth already full. "Emotionally."
"You haven't moved in hours."
"Time is fake."
Anne placed her hands on her hips. "It's a beautiful day. Why not get some fresh air?"
"No thank you."
"Milady…"
"If you want me to go outside so badly," Reese said with a sly, lazy grin, "you'll have to act cute."
Anne blinked. "…Excuse me?"
"Do a little dance. Tilt your head. Say 'pwease, miwady, for me?'"
"Absolutely not."
"Then I guess I'm staying here."
Anne stood stiffly, face unreadable, for ten minutes. Then—
"…pwease, miwady," she mumbled, cheeks burning.
Reese laughed. A soft, raspy sound from under her blanket. "Horrifying. That was horrifying. Let's go."
---
They walked slowly through the manor halls—very slowly.
"I'm not a horse, Anne," Reese murmured, dragging her feet. "Why are you rushing me?"
"We've been walking for ten minutes. You've moved two rooms."
"That's speedrunning, actually."
Eventually, they made it to the terrace, where sunlight poured gently over the stones and garden beds.
"There she is!" a voice called.
It was Red—her second eldest brother—waving her over to the tea table under the magnolia tree.
Rome was there too, lounging beside his wife, who was currently knitting with impressive speed. Red's wife, slightly more chaotic, waved a biscuit at Reese.
"Come here, you sloth!" Rome called. "We've missed your ghostly presence."
Reese sighed dramatically but shuffled over.
She plopped herself down between her brothers.
Red immediately ruffled her hair. "You still soft up here. Like a bunny."
"I'm a feral cat, actually."
"Sure, sure. A feral cat who purrs when her head's scratched."
Reese didn't deny it.
Their wives leaned over, offering her cookies and tea.
"Still refusing to socialize?" one asked gently.
"Religiously," Reese answered.
"You should become a nun," Red said. "You're halfway there."
"She'd sleep through the vows," Rome added.
Reese closed her eyes. "Honestly? That sounds like peace."
Laughter erupted around the table.
They talked about the upcoming party, about travel, about their kids. Reese stayed quiet, sipping her tea and dozing slightly.
"Look at her," Rome whispered. "She's drifting."
"I'm not asleep," Reese mumbled.
"You were snoring."
"I breathe loudly. It's called surviving."
They laughed again. Reese liked this. Being surrounded by noise she didn't have to add to.
She fell asleep with her head on Red's shoulder.
And no one minded.
---
The day of the engagement arrived.
The manor was a flurry of noise and silk. Music, flowers, carriages, chatter.
Reese was nowhere near it.
She sat miles away from the ballroom—in the back garden where no guests wandered.
Anne stood behind her, adjusting her seat cushion.
"You could at least show your face, milady. Just once."
"I'm showing my face now."
"To society."
Reese yawned. "Society doesn't deserve me."
Anne rolled her eyes and looked up. "It's too sunny. I'll get a parasol."
Reese gave a lazy wave as Anne walked off.
She closed her eyes.
Finally. Silence.
Then—
Tiny footsteps.
She opened one eye.
A small boy stood in front of her. Maybe five or six. Round face, soft curls, little boots. He tilted his head at her.
"…Are you a fairy?" he asked.
Reese stared.
"…What."
"You look like one. Like the sad kind."
She blinked.
"That's the first time someone called me magical and depressed at the same time."
The boy stepped closer. "Can I sit here?"
Reese shrugged. "Sure. Not my lawn."
He sat down neatly beside her and watched her in awe.
"Are you okay?"
"No."
"Oh." Pause. "Are you sick?"
"…Define sick."
Before he could respond, a tall figure approached—a man dressed simply but finely. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and composed.
"Abel," he said gently. "There you are. I told you not to wander too far."
Abel pointed at Reese. "I found a fairy."
The man—Count Theodore—gave Reese an apologetic bow.
"I'm terribly sorry if he disturbed you, my lady."
Reese blinked again, sitting upright for the first time in a while. "Yeah."
"…We'll be going now. Come along, Abel."
As they walked off, Reese heard the boy whisper:
"Papa… is she really sick? She looked like she was melting."
"She's just different," Theodore said softly. "But you don't have to worry, alright?"
Back in the garden, Anne came rushing back with the parasol and stopped dead in her tracks.
She had just missed the entire thing.
"Milady!" she gasped. "Did… did you just talk to a child?"
Reese raised an eyebrow. "Barely."
"You let him sit beside you! You responded! That's progress!"
"I said like… two words."
"You interacted. That counts. I'm so proud of you!"
Reese looked at her maid blankly. "Anne. All I did was exist."
"Exactly! You existed socially!"
"…You're weird."
Anne beamed. "I learned it from you."
Reese turned her gaze back to the flowers and yawned. "That kid was weird too. Called me a fairy."
"You are one."
"A sleepy fairy."
"A nap sprite."
"A ghost of wasted potential."
They both snorted.
And the party continued without her.