The candlelight flickered softly against the walls of the Duke's study. Papers were scattered across the desk and on the floor, sealed letters and unfinished documents waiting for his signature. The air was heavy with the scent of ink and paper smell, the faint whisper of a quill writing on paper the only sound that filled the room.
Duke Caelum Vale leaned back in his chair, exhaustion covered his face. For years, the once-feared warlord had turned from battlefields to endless reports and decrees, because he refused to go outside or even attend political meetings but even now, in the darkness of his estate, he could not find peace of mind.
His gaze drifted toward the portrait that hung above the fireplace, a woman with soft eyes and pinkish gold hair, her smile tender enough to thaw even the coldest heart.
"Eveline…" he murmured,his voice breaking the silence of the room. It was his late wife, Ayana's mother.
Her name fell from his lips like a blessing, or maybe a curse. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the edge of the desk, gripping it tight. You said you wouldn't leave me, he thought. You promised we'd grow old together. The Duke felt betrayed, those promises fell to the void as soon as Eveline died.
The memory of her laughter echoed faintly in his mind, those happy memories that once filled the halls with gentle sounds. He could almost see her again, sitting by the window, sunlight wrapping her as she hummed a lullaby meant for Ayana that they never got to raise together. He was having illusions again he grabbed the small knife pocket from his drawer and sliced it through his arm, blood flowing out of it. He would always do this to bring himself back to reality.
He slammed his fist on the desk. The ink bottle spilling, spilling black like his bleeding memories.
The Duke's eyes looking down. "I'm pathetic," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse.
He raised his hand, staring at the scars on his arm of old wounds and the new ones he had done. He didn't remember when it started, only that one night, the pain inside had grown too loud. He had reached for the knife to silence the ache of the memories.
Physical pain was easier. It was simple, clear, and controllable, unlike his grief that was hard to bury.
He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.
"What would you think of me now, Eveline?" he muttered bitterly. "Would you still call me strong? Amazing?"
For a moment, as if mocking him, a faint memory returned to him, Eveline's voice, soft and full of warmth.
"Caelum, you're always too hard on yourself. Someday, you'll make a wonderful father." That was what Eveline said when she was alive while Ayana was still in her stomach.
A painful laugh escaped him. A father?
He then flinched as he remembered his Daughter, small, fragile, with eyes far too much like Eveline's.
Ayana.
Her trembling voice echoed in his head. "N…no, Papa!"
His heart twisted. He had tried to forget that moment, but it haunted him every night since. The way she looked up at him, not with hatred, but with hope. Hope that he had crushed beneath his negligence.
"I don't deserve that word," he whispered.
"Papa."
The word felt heavy, foreign, poisoned.
He wanted to protect her. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. But every time he saw her face, her mother's eyes, her mother's smile his chest tightened until he could barely breathe. It was as if Eveline had left a piece of herself behind only to mock his weakness. He couldn't accept it he was irritated he missed Eveline so much.
So instead of reaching out, he turned away. It was easier to ignore the child than to face what he had lost.
He stood from his chair and walked toward the window. Outside, the estate of The trial. From the distance, faint laughter could be heard, the voices of maids as they work on their shift. But none came from Ayana's manor.
His fingers brushed the window glass. "What kind of father am I," he said quietly, "that I just abandoned her just like that?"
The once proud Duke, the empire's war hero was now nothing but a broken man haunted by ghosts of his past.
Thoughts haunted him, She's your daughter. She's all that's left of her.
For a second, he almost believed he could walk down that hallway and open the door to her room. Maybe he'd see her asleep, small and fragile, and whisper an apology for not taking care of her.
But the thought dissolved as quickly as it came. His throat tightened, and his heart was too afraid, and his body refused to move.
.
"I'm not ready," he whispered into the empty room. "I'm not… worthy of her."
And once again, the great Duke Caelum Vale that was feared by all, was now all alone.
That night, the moon was shining brightly above the Vale estate, pale and watchful. The halls were silent. It was peaceful
In the smallest room of Ayana's manor, the old storage room. A little girl lay curled on the floor, wrapped in a thin news paper that did little to keep the cold away. Her small hands were folded against her chest, holding a piece of burned fabric it was what was left of Liana's ribbon. It was just a small box of ashes from the remaines of Liana's ribbon but she treated it as the most special thing in the world, after all it was a ribbon worn by the first person who treated her with affection.
"Liana…" she whispered, voice quiet and small, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you hurt...its all my fault" she muttered as she try to hold in a sob.
She trembled in the dark. There was only silence. No one was their to comfort her and tell her it wasn't her fault.
And within that silence and pain, her mind began to wander and thoughts begin to fill her head.
She thought about the man she saw days ago, tall, cold, and scary. Her father. The Duke.
She had seen him only once before that, from the portraits, during cleaning the portrait room but her eyes we're blurry back then since she was crying. But now… she remembered his face clearly. The sharp eyes, the heavy voice that made her knees shake. Yet when she looked at him, her heart had hurt, not because of fear, but because she wanted to be with that man, she wanted to see him again, it didn't matter if he neglected her, she just wanted her father... Her papa...
"Papa…" she said softly, testing the word again, she missed him even though they only met once.
Did he ever think of her? Did he even feel guilty for abandoning her? Does he even love her? Thoughts of him filled her head.
Maybe he was busy, she told herself. Maybe he had work, like Liana used to say when Ayana waited too long outside the kitchen. Maybe that's why he never visited... Her.
Or maybe he just doesn't care... Maybe he thinks your a monster like the other maids.
Ayana's throat tightened. "No" she protested while shaking her head. "He… he has to care. He's my Papa..." She believed he cared just for the sole reason of him being her father.
"My Mama wouldn't have married someone bad, Right? " she reasoned in a trembling voice.
Her lips trembles, tears spilling silently down her cheeks.
"Maybe if I'm good girl.." she said, her voice trailed off. "he'll smile at me. Maybe if I don't cry, and I work veryyyy hard, and I don't make anyone angry… he'll finally notice me..."
The thought gave her a tiny flicker of hope fragile and desperate, but it was all she had. But before that thought she already had hope that one day her father would look at her.
"I can do it," she whispered to the ashes in her hand. "I'll be a good girl after that one day he'll look at me… he'll call me Ayana."
She tried to smile through her tears, but it hurted her too much. The heavy tears made her more pitiful.
Because deep down, even though she tried to believe her words, there was one thought that bothered her, one she couldn't silence or push away, What if he hates me and never wants to look at me?
She clutched the box with Liana's bow's ashes close as if holding on to it could somehow bring Liana back. Or her mother. Or even her father's love.
Tears ran down faster on her cheeks, silent sobs escaped her lips. She covered her mouth afraid waking up the head maid and get beaten again.
Above her, far across the estate, her father still sat awake in his study, still lost in grief.
Neither of them knew that the other was thinking of the same thing, the love they both wanted to give, but they didn't know how to express.
When will the darkness of their pain, finally fade?