Archive of Our Own ^beta

Does the world stop revolving around its axis when one finds fault within its corners? If one sins, should everybody else be held responsible for their actions? Is the failure of one, the failure of many?

If that was the case, then Seamus Pegg would never have become the man he was. He upheld his duties as someone who married into his status. It was unheard of, usually, but the man couldn’t help himself when it came to Frederica. She was as radiant as the morning dew, cooling to the touch, but burning for the heart.

In all his days as a wandering merchant, he never thought to settle down. Not even as many others had begged him to set up shop, or go find himself a wife before. Regardless, he didn’t want an arranged marriage—it was not within his original plans to stay within one place, nor had it ever been. When it came to first meeting Frederica, he was just another salesman in the streets, and she was simply another customer. They had pleasant small-talk about the weather. How it was cloudy these days, how rain could hit them at any moment, that people should really bring their umbrellas with them the next time they went out, just in case. She remarked that it was always cloudy in these parts; that there was no sunshine to be found within such a grim little town like hers.

Seamus didn’t think much of it, not even when she told him that she was going to make it her mission to change it all. He didn’t think of anything, really, not even when her golden hair was swayed by the breeze, and how such a rambunctious soul could be obscured by such a young façade. His eyes merely followed her in disbelief, as when he chuckled at her intents, she jumped onto the city square’s fountain. In that very instance of a moment, he understood her true power. It wasn’t her façade, or her mask that was stunning. It was her very hallowing echo of a voice, the inner soul she carried with her.

The grief from her melody rang like a church bell chiming in the square. The people stopped in silence, to worship her being, listening and honouring the death she sang about. For Seamus, that moment stayed imprinted in his mind, even as she finished, walked back to him, and with a wordless smirk threw him the coins she earned. It wasn’t that he didn’t think much of it all; in fact, he was absolutely mesmerised with her. He felt he wasn't in his right mind, not when he set up shop the following day, not when he wasn't able to think about anything else *but* her potentially stopping by.

Before he could realise it all, he was utterly enchanted. His mind tortured with the knowledge of her absence, his heart aching for her voice. He set up shop every day. He made arrangements to stay in such a small, ghastly town, because the only ray of sunshine within it chained him to it. Their small-talk turned into discussions of a heavier nature, and he wondered if he would ever get to see her as anything more than a customer and dear friend. He didn’t dare to move away, nor move much closer than he was allowed to, forever watching her from the side-lines.

That day was supposed to be the same. He hadn’t seen her yet, and the sun was setting. He sighed, mourning that he had been enough of a lovesick fool to wait for her all day. It was a Sunday—and one shouldn’t have been working on a Sunday. As such, nobody was on the streets of the little town, locked inside of their homes to spend time with families. To those that weren't, he was probably would have been seen as a Godless man; a heretic who knew no bounds. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, running another hand through his hair. He assumed it was time to pack up and go home, perhaps to sulk some more with a good, cheap brand of whiskey. It’s not like his small, measly shack of a place was worthy of any attendants, let alone a true lady. Considering the speed at which he bought it, it was a wonder it was still standing upright. She should have no obligations to come as often as she did to his shop, which bred the hope that she might hold similar affections. But it didn’t change the fact he was wholly unworthy of them. He was simply a fool, irrevocably so. A fool, foolish, a—

"What have you to be so sullen about, hm? I guess it's no matter. I shall just have to cheer you up well first."

Her hands held his collar tightly. His thoughts ran to a stop. Seamus didn’t expect his—no—Frederica to act so rashly. Much less come right when he wasn't composed. Her hair was a little frazzled, she looked unladylike in ways that he hadn't seen before. He didn't have time to wonder whether she, herself, was alright. The question lingering on his mind couldn't fall out before she interrupted him.

“What—”

She kissed him. Roughly pulling him down to meet her, over his stall, she kissed him. Her lips were softer than he ever dared to dream of. Utterly enraptured, as his hands couldn’t help but snake to the back of her head, leaning into her being with pure joy emitting from his heart. At this moment, he knew he had been fooled once more. For a lady, by kissing him like this, she was ruining her chastity, being caught in a public place like this. In broad daylight no less! Even if her family disapproved of him, and society demonized them both for it, he would have to take responsibility. Even when he was not worthy of her; he was humbled that he was chosen, even considered by her at all. For how much she had plagued his mind, and how her voice changed something fundamental within him, he was happy that it turned out like this. He was happy that she had him right in the palm of her hands.

The rain of yestereve hung in the air like a curtain on a window in heavy, thick drapes. The mist hid away all of the known, and the unknown from the observer’s eyes, even if they were familiar with the winding path in front. Even if Diluc had belonged to such gentlemen, and understood the imminent dangers that came with riding a galloping horse at such a time, he couldn’t seem to care. The world was spinning beneath his feet, his heart clenching as much as it could, and he needed to flee. This place housed no more room for one the likes of him.

He assumed it was about to rain again. That was good. Perhaps the rain could cleanse him of his sins, like washing away the blood on his hands. The reigns he clutched were as bloodied as the trail he left behind him. His horse must’ve stepped into the puddles of blood he had seen as he was trying to escape. The sun wasn’t up yet, God knows why. Maybe He understood this day as something of a tragedy.

Perhaps that was why Diluc’s head was pounding. The sound of it replaced that of a heart that was busy caving in on itself. The meadows he arrived at made him stop. They used to be spots of such loveliness, such comfort, and warmth. Having refused to taint those with his present self, he turned to the more dangerous cross in the road he knew. The road to the smallest town in the region, a place so grim not even death itself could bear it.

He was still galloping at full speed despite hearing the gravel underneath him crack. Despite knowing his horse could probably slip if he was not careful enough. He rushed along regardless, condemning himself to such a possible fate. He did not care about his safety anymore; that had been forfeited long ago.

Diluc stumbled upon a shack. One he recognized as belonging to the last person he wanted to see.

Unfortunately, fate is cruel to him today. The man never slept, so of course he had heard Diluc coming. The moment Seamus Pegg stepped outside, the eye contact felt like a burning shame of the sort that only a Godless man such as Diluc, a true sinner, may stomach as he stood before one of the devout. The blood on the floor, on his body, his hands, the reigns. The spinning finally caught up to him, and Diluc simply felt a force pulling him back, off of his horse, and the shrill shriek of the father of his beloved.

Seamus was the luckiest man on this earth. His legs could give out at any given moment, but he was far too happy to allow them to. Standing at the end of the aisle, right in front of his family, in front of the God they revered, and one of His men, about to be tied to his beloved forever. He couldn’t have wanted it any other way. He would be faithful. He would be kind and understanding, the perfect husband, for her. Their status and money needn’t matter; not even her disapproving relatives and society at large mattered. None of it mattered, as long as he was standing right next to her, about to capture her lips like he always did in secret, completely and utterly ready to accept her radiance, her harrowed soul, and try everything in his might to make her adore it as much as he did.

He would do everything right.

Nothing compared to the moment she stepped onto the aisle and the organs started playing the song everybody heard on this day. Her hair almost glittered from the shadows, and even if her face wasn’t discernible from such a distance, she was captivating nonetheless. All of the eyes in the room latched onto her, as Seamus’ did. He was so proud to be her lover. So proud to be the man standing there, waiting on her. The very Queen of the light, a lioness in spirit; his—finally, his—Frederica.

This wedding was the only one that he would ever care about. It would be the only one he would ever have. He wondered what he looked like to her standing there, as when he finally lifted her veil, she was silently giggling with tears in her eyes. The very sight made him tear up, in response, as his own happiness could never be overshadowed by hers. Putting the rings on, they said the traditional vows, as he requested, his lips found hers again, and he kissed away the tears too.

When he came to, Diluc’s head rang. He heard the rain outside first, as an accompanying drum to his mind, and the painful stinging in his neck. He felt his surroundings with the ghost of a hand, meandering throughout the space blind. He was on a bed, and not the floor.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.”

“Seamus—” Diluc groaned as he sat up, ignoring the protests his bones seemed to make. “What am I doing back here?”

“Unless you wished to die out there, which I suppose you quite did, I have brought you here.”

“For what purposes?”

“To rest.” Seamus handed him a mug of something hot. “Drink. There’s soup on the way.”

"Seamus, it is not your obligation to look after me."

"Yet I would regret it for the entirety of my life if I didn't."

Diluc stared at the beverage in his hands. Hesitant, or more so reluctant, he tipped it backwards and drank all of it one go. It was not good to leave leftovers. Especially not when the man in front of him had so little, and could not afford to waste anything on him. Yet he still risked that notion, for his safety. All for his life, when he should've been dead.

Diluc broke the laden silence.

"I must have you know that I am utterly unworthy of both your daughter and being saved." He raised his hand to stop Seamus in confronting him on this opinion. "This is but a mere truth that I have accepted long before. I have no house or fortune to my name, not when I relinquished it all to my brother. I... Know he has the same kind of sentiments towards Jean as I do. They will be perfectly happy together; a handsome couple beyond comparison."

"And you do not feel any sort of remorse towards this decision to leave?" The hand on top of his knee gripped it as such, it would leave a mark, even through the layers of blood and leather. "Have you not considered the pain she would be going through, should you leave her? Not to mention give her away to your own brother—"

"Seamus. That is... Quite enough."

"Does this not torment you, young master Ragnvindr? To leave to die, on the outskirts of nowhere's land, where not even God's gaze falls upon; whatever might your father—"

The clattering of the wooden mug against the wall forced his silence. 

"Father... Is gone. This blood on my hands, on my being, on my very soul; it is his, not mine. I do not need your saving, or your graces, Seamus. I am not the man you thought you knew anymore. Tonight, I—"

"Tonight you are still a child of a meek 18 years of life."

While Diluc was too busy clenching his fists to the point where his palms bled, Seamus sat next to him. The petite hands of a gentleman that might as well be holy, even despite the blemishes of his mortal coil, wormed through the tight grip of his own hands. Diluc could only stare at the strength to break such a grip.

"If you wish to see more blood, let it be of a bloodline that is not yours, young master."

"Stop this nonsense, I am not—" The tears building up in his eyes felt like a traitorous wish. He would not let them be revealed. "I am not worthy of this!"

"You believe such backwards things, young master. Everyone is worthy within the eyes of God; even those who have committed sins so grave the repentance would have to take place in Hell."

"Please don't call me as if you were a servant, you—you should have some more pride in yourself! You managed so much, you cared for so much, and you still ended up here!" The tears were fully on display upon his countenance, running down sunken cheeks and hollowed out youth. "You should not lower yourself for someone such as me, Seamus."

Diluc could barely see through the density of the water, but he knew the man in front of him was smiling the same smile his own father would. 

"For tonight, I am the only servant tending to you; and I do not deem it as unsightly lowering myself. It is a pride on its own to tend to you, young master."

He caved in upon himself. Crying in the hands of his beloved's father, wailing as the hiccups took over his lungs, the soreness in his throat astounding. His posture gave way for grief as Diluc clutched at the remainder of hope. Seamus simply shuffled closer to him, letting Diluc's forehead rest upon his coat.

"You are still God's son, just as much as me. Whatever you have done can be forgiven, for I know you would never do something so vile it couldn't be."

The lump in his throat grew beyond what Diluc could express. Through hackling sobs, the young man confessed the worst nightmare he had lived through, and was still living in. The gory details of his Father's death; how the man begged for mercy to be given by his son, and how his son relented to his request. How his brother watched in tears, his smaller hands gripping Diluc's coat while they trembled, asking what would be of them now. A coach accident that the young Ragnvindr knew was no accident at all. Of course it was a ploy. It had to be set up. It's why he brushed his younger brother off, grabbed the first horse he could think of in his vicinity, and rode off, far away from the place of the crime. From the last rays of dusk to this early dawn, Diluc has not had a moment's respite.

Seamus watched, his gaze unwavering, the smile never fading, even within the blurred out vision. Seamus was a pillar of elegance within Diluc's life, even taking his father into account. Seamus was perfect, regardless of the horrible rumours tainting his name and dragging it through reinforced mud. He was divorced, he had two girls as children, he still took care of them from a distance even though he was outcast to this shack of a building years ago, and he was everything that Diluc strived to be. Someone who could take the punches of life well enough to survive. Well enough to still wear an unbeatable smile upon their features. Well enough to belong to the strong.

Seamus' hand stretched out to hold both of Diluc's, as the other one moved away to press his head into his chest more. "You are more than safe here, young master. Here not even the gales outside could reach you."

Diluc sniffled. There was nothing more to be said, nothing that could be done to undo what is yet to arrive, nor what has already happened. This moment itself was the only comfort that he could allow himself after everything.

Could he truly allow himself this much?

"Seamus... Would you, ah, would—" Diluc's eyes wandered, despite never interlocking with Seamus', "Nevermind. It is a foolish request, especially now."

"Young master, you really are a child, aren't you?"

The tone was teasing, but it made Diluc tear up again, just when he had finally stopped. He was just a child. He was only a child.

"You can ask me anything; it needn't matter what it is. This may be, after all, your very last request of me. I wish to fulfill all of your needs while you are still within these walls."

"Then... Would you sing me a song?"

Seamus hummed and ran his fingers through Diluc's hair roughly. "Which one might you have in mind, young master?"

"Any lullaby will do. Please."

"Alright."

And thus he sang a song from beyond these lands; in the icy dwelling of a Tsaritsa, on the tops of the mountains that did not exist within these plains. A song about dreaming, and daring to dream.

A song they sang to Jean.

Seamus overestimated the stress that came along with marrying into a family of status. Or well, getting acknowledged in their union at all, really. All the rushing he had been doing since he had transported all his belongings into their own mansion, paid for by his life's savings and partially her dowry, eventually exhausted him too much to spend a lot of time with his beloved Frederica. His business also took off, forcing him to be attached to his new office desk far past waking hours. Frederica scolded him for it, as she sat across from him; however, she wasn't any better with her singing and decorating the household. The few attendants they had were worked to the bone; poor Elzer. The lad might just quit if they keep piling him with dishes like they do.

Seamus knew, although, even with all of the pains, there would be nothing that could make the sight in front of him any less worthy of being witnessed. His Frederica sat, at the desk that was supposed to be his, and was humming with the sun as a backdrop. A lullaby for the ages. She was lovely; a creature to be loved regardless of the consequence. And he was the fool that would forever be within her grip.

He would ruin the scene by coming closer, yet it was inevitable that he did. Seamus' senses could not resist the temptation that was showering Frederica with affection. Soft footsteps, followed by the gentle replacement of her hair so he could kiss her temple. Her voice didn't falter at all, not even when she reached out for his hands, to hold them rather than lean into him.

"What are you humming, love?"

"A lullaby."

Seamus' smile vocalised itself into a chuckle. "Whatever for, when it is barely noon?"

His smile then touched her face again, multiple times over, peppering kisses from her cheekbones to her neck, nose and back. His own nose ended up buried within her locks, the fragrance she used to wash it with unlike any other he had the pleasure of knowing before her. Her honeyed voice was good enough of a reason to keep doing it all, every time.

"Well..." Her hand not holding his flitted to brush her stomach. "I think the little one might need more sleep than you do, Seamus. Though I must say that you do sleep like a cat more often than not."

His hands almost lost their grip entirely, as his eyes widened to the size of the moon. Perhaps they shone more due to the tears building up, as well.

"Are you serious, Freddie?"

"Mhm. Quite sure about it too; ever since the doctor came for the check up a few days ago." Her smile turned sheepish. "I didn't know how to tell you, so I hope you don't mind me keeping it from you for so long."

"Nonsense!" 

Seamus' hands found the armrest of her chair, turning it with her included so he could crouch in front without hitting the desk. He looked up into her eyes, not knowing how to contain the happiness he held. His smile was probably more than telling, barely constrained. Her own hands clasped over his again, clutching them as her lifeline.

"We're going to be parents, Seamus."

The rest of that day was spent in silent celebration. They let Elzer take a rest too; Seamus was sure the man would be grateful for it, and decide to stay even just a bit longer with them. He was a good worker and man, however much he complained. Seamus himself tried to sing the lullaby Frederica so effortlessly mastered.

It took some time, but he learned the words by heart.

How to commence a meeting for the first time was something Diluc learned early on. As the heir of Ragnvindr, he was bound to know all of the etiquette from a young age such as 7. This introduction between two families was no different than when he first met his younger adoptive brother at the orphanage. He merely had to keep Kaeya in tow, shake the hands of the Gunnhildr-Pegg's household, and it was as good as done. After that he could go home and play with the new wooden swords his father got both him and his brother. After these formalities, life would be the same as always.

That was something he took pride in, for the Ragnvindrs were a Ducal family; and tradition was everything. He knew this well, and he would uphold it when he grew up.

The small mansion they arrived at by coach was almost entirely obscured with greenery. The trees hid the roof, lovely and turquoise as it was, the white plaque of the walls were covered with moss and the pathway to the front door contained multiple bushes, with flowers and without. It reminded him of one of those fairy tales his father read to him when he was smaller; now that he was older, fairy tales did not interest him at all. However, even as a small fact-loving man within a seven year old hull, he had to admit that it was every bit as picturesque as the books said it would be.

Edging closer from the dirt road a few metres ahead, where he had to (lightly, mind you) kick Kaeya in the shins to give a proper "Goodbye sir!" to the coachman, Diluc noticed more and more traces of children here. One of the trees had a swing set built on it; another bush had a small yellow ball peering out of it as they passed. Diluc promptly picked it up, thinking the inhabitants of this fairy tale had probably lost it, and put it in the pocket of his gentleman's coat. Somehow, when father saw him do that, he only laughed.

"I'm certain they'll appreciate your efforts, son." Was the only response he got when he asked. It had to be another one of those things only adults understood, as father said.

Kaeya curiously peeked in every bush on the walk to the front door, in search of more balls, trinkets or "treasures", as he called them. Diluc couldn't find any fault in that, considering these people most likely lost plenty more things, if they could lose such a brightly coloured object in an obvious place. Helping them find them would leave a better impression of Duke Ragnvindr's children, so too the Ducal lineage in general.

Diluc couldn't wait to hear his father's praise when he got home. The ruffling of his hair was the best feeling in the world, especially if it was done by father. He could barely focus on the opening doors, and the friendly man with golden hair that opened them. Only when the man himself crouched in front of Diluc, did the boy straighten his back and puff out his chest, giving the firmest handshake his arms allowed him to.

The embarrassment when the man's hand turned out to be bigger than his own to the point where it was a challenge to even properly hold it was immense. The young Ragnvindr blushed up to his ears, a colour reminiscent of his hair. He felt the inquisitive gaze of his brother, as well as the almost patronising one of the golden haired man.

"My, what a dapper young man! It is so good to meet you, sir Ragnvindr."

The smile reassured Diluc the tiniest bit. At least this man had enough tact to pick up on the mood in the room.

"Thank you, sir Pegg."

"Oh, just call me Seamus, it's alright!" 

He pat Diluc on the back; gently enough so that the boy wouldn't fall forward, yet strong enough to be considered a solid pat. Diluc thought that he was beginning to like this person. If he was so good-natured in his disposition to even strangers, he was a good man. A good father. His children must look up to him a lot.

Almost as much as Diluc looked up to Crepus.

Diluc's gaze focused on Kaeya's manners as per habit, all while the younger was introducing himself to Seamus. There was nothing he would scrutinise for the sake of their pride, yet there was nothing he wouldn't do to defend their honour if Kaeya did offend them. Kaeya was his brother after all, no matter his origins. He belonged to the house, so he should learn to be proper; but never forget that his house stood beside him. There ended up being no problems in his handshake, or his bow, or any of the polite speech Diluc endlessly went on about in the coach ride. It was important to know! How else could he protect his brother when he wasn't as strong as Father yet?

The three of them ended up being invited inside with a humble gesture, as Seamus led them throughout the spacious halls. They arrived in the drawing room almost immediately; skipping the ante room entirely. That was unusual; however, it was probably because they were late. They needed to hire a better coachman, it seemed, because it was unacceptable to be tardy.

The closer they drew to the drawing room, the sooner the chatter and piano was heard. Giggles echoed throughout the hallways they tread through, and didn’t stop even when Seamus opened the door. The sight was mesmerising; the big, rounded and panelled windows, allowing the light to seep right in, to give the backdrop of heaven for the angels in the room. Diluc never quite knew whether he should believe in God, even if Father told him it was the truth. He thought back to the day before, about how Father told him not to mention his questions in front of the man of Gunnhildr-Peggs house, for that man was as devout as can be. So as not to insult the inhabitants of this manor, Diluc promised to stay silent and pretend to revere someone he had yet to see.

At that moment, when the door opened, Diluc understood why Seamus believed in God and angels; he simply lived amongst them, their golden hair reflecting and their voices dripping like honey to the ears. Diluc knew only years later, how that was the moment he, too, started to believe wholeheartedly.

Without any reservations in his bones left, he jumped straight into their world, their haven from the cold.

Mornings were filled with mirth in the Gunnhildr-Pegg household. The children were timely with when they rose up out of their beds, despite how much Seamus himself liked to sleep in. Frederica was in charge of waking them up, so she got out of bed first, every time. Even though she tried to be quiet, he woke up alongside her anyway. Seeing her face time and time again throughout the years the moment he woke up, and then seeing her walk to the children’s shared bedroom, was more than enough to be satisfied with where he was in life. They'd dressed, rushing downstairs to have breakfast cooked by their only maid, Lydia, a loving young woman who devoted all her time to the family. Seamus couldn’t be more grateful for her skills when it came to making tea, probably the only thing making it easier to wake up at the brink of dawn like Frederica did.

Freddie was unnaturally diligent of a woman, considering her noble status. Seamus was happy she could understand and adapt to his lifestyle, and how they made ends meet, but he found himself looking at her from afar, wondering if she ever missed her old life. One that was filled with more riches and lavish baths. A life he couldn’t provide for her (not yet, he told himself a lot), a life her previous engagement to Duke Ragnvindr would. Her parents had settled that with the previous Duke and Duchess from when they were just kids, and the two grew up together. In the time Seamus was getting to know her better as his wife, it was his name that came up the most often. Frederica didn’t have memories that didn’t include Crepus—and Seamus was afraid that it was for that reason he sometimes felt inadequate.

He couldn’t care too much about what Frederica’s parents thought of him or their union. He was almost utterly convinced they hated the mere mention or thought of him. Seamus wasn’t fit to be the groom in Frederica’s life. He wasn’t the perfect husband, and he agreed with them in that regard. However, Seamus knew that life had a lot more to offer than just nobility and luxury. He knew that if his Freddie really loved him, whatever her parents say would end up on deaf ears. Because Frederica would never let others govern over her; she was not of the fickle kind.

Her parents begrudgingly sent her half of the dowry they promised to the Duke to Seamus because of her insistence that she got it. That it was only proper for a union, no matter what the underlying bitterness between families. No matter if she was the one to break off an engagement that has been arranged for years. Disregarding how long it took her to convince them, Seamus considered himself blessed in every aspect whenever he gazed at Frederica.

She was beautiful, even in the tiniest movements, such as elegantly sitting down at the dining table for breakfast. The way she subtly corrected the alignment of her cutlery, without so much making a peep towards Lydia about it, despite him knowing how much of a pet peeve that was of hers. The way she ushered the children to sit down again, even though they were playing tag in the same room; waiting for her call to politely greet them with a curtsey and take their own seats. Even as Frederica donned an expressionless face, trying her best to educate her daughters of proper etiquette, he could see the smile she suppressed. The light of the opened up curtains would fall onto her blonde hair that was pulled back into a neat updo, and it would illuminate the heavenly grey eyes just enough for them to look like the bottom of the ocean.

Seamus could watch her and cherish her like this forever, if she’d let him. The problem is that Frederica didn’t. She was far too focused on progress and moving forward in time to notice the things he did about herself. She told him so often that he should have gotten used to her wavy hair in the morning, and that he should quit trying to thread his fingers through it every time. Her younger impulsivity was replaced with a patience and strength he could only wish to have. He'd want her to rely on him a bit more, but it was good regardless.

Yeah, their life together was good.

Elzer, the only butler and other attendant they had in their household, was the one who served breakfast. They weren’t particular about what they ate during the morning. They didn’t have three-course meals available for them anyway, so most of the time it was just whatever was in stock at the market that week. Elzer was a hard worker, albeit overworked for them. Most of the help with accounting, mail and other jobs that would be too much to ask of Lydia fell upon him. He still washed the dishes, even if he complained that now that there were four of them to take care of, it was even worse than it was during Frederica's specific pregnancy cravings. When she would eat whatever she pleased outside of their mealtimes, and Seamus couldn't help but indulge her.

“Sire, you really should consider hiring more aides; if it continues on like this, I’m going to get a hernia by the time you even consider the notion!”

Was the thing he said last night, when asked to push aside the bookshelf so Lydia could thoroughly clean behind it. Seeing him again, even if it was with an exhausted smile, made Seamus beam all on his own. The two greeted each other like they always would, causing the women in the room to sigh, and the children to giggle.

“Good morning, Elzer. How’s the hernia?”

“Terrible, sire. It is a good morning only to you, who has such a wonderful scene to gaze upon daily.”

Seamus laughed heartily, waving his hand in dismissal. “You would have an equally beautiful and wonderful scene in front of you if you just gathered up the guts to ask Adelinde to marry you already. How long do you plan to keep her waiting?”

“Until my duties here let up enough, I cannot possibly ask her to make that commitment for me. It would only put me in the most unbecoming situation, sire.” Elzer huffed, as he handed Seamus yesterday evening’s newspaper. “Truly, could you imagine it? Me, on one knee and the most expensive ring I could find, only to hear her tell me that she’d need more time to think! Simply thinking about it might put me in an early grave.”

“Worry not, we will pay for your funeral when the time comes, old chap.” Seamus pat his shoulder in passing, before Elzer moved along the table to Frederica.

“It is a miracle that you still call me old when you yourself are but 2 years younger!” His voice changed to a more respectful tone. “Your mail, ma’am.”

“Thank you kindly, Elzer. We appreciate your efforts dearly. Don’t we, Seamus?”

Seamus was quick to pick up on her pointed look. “Indeed we do.”

He watched in glee as the children immediately dug into their meals the moment they were served, making sure to whisper and point to Elzer that they were going to need napkins afterwards, since Barbara was smearing the porridge onto her chubby cheeks. It was the most adorable sight to behold, something Seamus wouldn’t even consider had he seen any other child do the same. But Barbara was his little baby, and they could only try and pry away his joy through his cold, dead hands. He would laugh the tiniest bit, as he noticed how Jean would immediately jump to correct her little sister’s spoon hold. She would always take care of her, no matter what, and it warmed his heart in ways he could not describe. That was another joy he would rather die than get parted from. Jean, his lovely, responsible little girl. It pained him to think about how one of Duke Ragnvindr’s boys had already taken a liking to her the last time they were here. She is growing up too fast; it didn’t matter if she was only 8.

If anything ever happened between his daughter and one of the Duke’s sons, he would personally pull one of them away and give him a good word of warning. Seamus would never actively try to intimidate young men from liking, courting and marrying his daughters. He’d be a fool to do that, especially if those young men were one of the most powerful people in the Kingdom. Especially since his wife knew their father well enough to know they would never try anything dishonourable. But, he would never let any of them even try to hurt his girls. Given the shimmering in their eyes and their polite behaviour as they walked in on his family singing when they first met, he thought it shouldn’t be too much of a problem for right now.

His thoughts were interrupted by the clattering of metal.

“Freddie?”

Her face looked paler than whatever ghost she had seen in the lines of her opened letter. “I… I must go to take a breather. Thank you for the meal, as always, Lydia, Elzer. Continue on without me. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Her hurried movements to stand up and close the door on her way out of the dining room and kitchen seemed to pull on the strings inside the room, leaving an unbearable tension. A few moments of deadly silence continued, before Seamus decided to put on his best smile to comfort the children. Jean was staring right into his soul, while Barbara seemed like she was about to cry. They never had breakfast without mama before, after all.

“It’s alright children! Mama probably just has some urgent business to attend to. You’ll see her again before you know it, for your lessons, no?” Standing up to take the napkin Elzer clenched in his hands, he wiped Barbara’s face gently and added: “Now we should hurry up and eat our fill of breakfast. Lydia will make sure mama gets hers as soon as possible, alright?”

Jean silently nodded, while Barbara seemed placated enough by the touch alone. He hoped that his youngest wasn’t just holding her own crying in for his sake. Seamus knew that Barbara was quite intuitive of others’ emotions, even more so than Jean at her age, so he worried quite a bit.

Going back to his seat, Seamus opened the newspaper in order to act as normal as he possibly could. Elzer and Lydia were quick on doing the same, saying a few words of comfort to the girls themselves with bright smiles. Seamus was totally not watching the entire exchange from the brim of his paper. Both Jean and Barbara hesitantly went back to eating. Thankfully, the mood was lifted sooner rather than later, with Jean noticing her father staring intently, and Seamus, being the fool that he was, made funny faces in hopes of cheering them up. Barbara giggled once it was pointed out, and Jean soon joined too. The rest of the breakfast went without a hitch, as they all helped clean up the table, and Lydia guided the girls into the parlour so they could busy themselves as they waited for their mother—and tutor—to arrive.

After finishing reading the paper, Seamus stood up to see Elzer out, as he was to bring it back to the local library he borrowed it from. With one hand on the doorknob, Seamus was daring enough to break through the silence from their normally quiet exchange.

“Elzer… Who was the letter from? Do you know?”

“Sire, I—” Elzer looked down before answering in a hushed voice, somehow able to make his words resonate with the walls, leaving them to ring in Seamus’ head for a long time afterwards, “As far as I could see, the stamp was from the lady’s family.”

With that, the door shut and he was gone from view. Seamus watched him from the windows, before going back to his study. Walking the stairs had never been so hard before, and he could only think about the dread hanging off of his ankles.

It was a while until he dared to speak to Frederica again. Seamus finished his work with an unknown speed to him, probably brushing off most of the details in his reports of merchandise. When Elzer came back, they barely spoke, merely coexisting in this space, talking only when they needed to. On some level, that was nice. Seamus needed some time to process how he was going to address his wife again, after getting rejected with silence three times as she holed herself up in their bedroom. He was worried that it was taking her that long to compose herself. Usually she'd answer him at least once. Let him in on the second time and tell him there was nothing to worry about, before he pressed on a bit. At least one "I'm fine, it'll be alright". But she didn't say anything, and the silence only bred forth worry in his mind, all throughout his work.

Lydia notified him later that afternoon that she attended the lessons she was going to give to the children, together with a short lunch, which made him sigh in relief. Seamus always missed attending lunch himself, due to being so engrossed in his work, thus he couldn’t see it himself. They were obviously worried sick despite it all, but they were allowed to play on the swing set in the garden for extra long that day, so Lydia hoped they were alright. Seamus had the same sentiments.

After his work finished, Lydia did say that Frederica was back in their bedroom. Preparing himself for another attempt at confrontation, he knocked on her door another time before dinner.

“Freddie? Dear?” His bated breath didn’t get him any closer to hearing an answer from her. “We’re all about to sit down for dinner, so, if you can, could you join us, please?”

Another few beats went by in silence. Seamus was about to walk away, when he heard the shuffling and clicking of the door. He looked into his beloved’s red eyes, and wanted to embrace her right that second, but her crossed arms forbade him from doing so. She walked past him without uttering a word, and he scrambled to join her, after closing the door. They didn’t speak. He didn’t prod or pry, and when the children watched them enter together with worried brows knitted together in fear, only Seamus smiled to comfort them.

Their dinner was in the same fashion, with their daughters fussing over their mother, who answered as briefly as she could, because not answering them was worse, and Seamus trying his best to cheer everyone up. It was over far too soon, as Frederica asked Lydia to put the girls to bed, and briskly walked to their bedroom again. Seamus had to jump out of his seat and run after her, yelling back to the children not to worry and to just listen to Lydia.

He was barely able to catch up with her, since she was closing doors as she went.

“Freddie! Can you please wait up—"

He was out of breath as she stopped and stared at him in front of their bedroom door. “We need to talk. Do you think you can do that, or do you need more time?”

It took her a minute of deliberate consideration before she responded with a nod. A meek one, at that. It didn’t need to be said that this was unlike her, and Seamus could only take a deep breath, before opening the bedroom door and gesturing for her to walk in first. Once they were both inside, he spoke up again.

“What happened?”

He looked for answers in her eyes, but only found suffering unlike any other. He wished to comfort her, like before, and this suffocating need to simply chase all of her worries away rose up within his chest. He would do anything for his wife, his Frederica, if only she asked him to. If she wanted the world, he would cut his legs off to crawl through everything and get it for her. If she wanted their children to become princesses, queens and duchesses, he would lobby for them by every noble man he knew, and crown them himself if he needed to. He would overthrow the country for them.

He would even divorce her, if that was for the best.

“My parents… they want the dowry back. With interest. You know we can’t afford that, given the state of our current finances, and the only way they will agree to let us keep it, is if you… leave.”

His eyes stung from the sudden rush of tears. “Why?”

“My cousins just debuted this year, but they haven’t been able to garner any interest because people are still spreading rumours about our family. It’s maddening—they’re blaming me! Us! And for what? Loving each other? Being able to cancel my previous engagement on good terms?”

“Freddie…”

“Seamus… I’ve been thinking about it all day. I can’t for the life of me figure out how we’re going to make that money back and still make ends meet. We’d have to move to a smaller house, perhaps even be scarce with food, maybe sell some of the jewellery and clothes we have… I could take up a job, if there’s any place that would take me, really. But Seamus, even that wouldn’t be enough for the interest they’re asking for.”

Frederica moved to grab the letter that was left on the nightstand. The handwriting was miniscule with large looping, typical of her father, with very blunt delivery. Nothing Seamus hadn't seen before in his life. Of course Marquis Gunnhildr would be the one to place such a burden upon his eldest. It was only inevitable, now that Seamus thought about it. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to prepare for such a direct attack, no matter how ungentlemanly and unsightly it was. 

He knew he could trust Frederica to know she wasn’t lying to him. She probably spent the entire day sorting through their emergency savings, all of the worth of her jewellery, calculating the prices and the grand total Marquis Gunnhildr was asking for. Her hands shook from both rage and distraught, almost ripping the letter in two from how hard her grip was. He could see the tearstains on the paper, probably from her own frustrated helplessness she felt. The way she couldn't get out of this on her own, the way she was pinned in place, like a butterfly on display, beautiful, but dead.

Seamus knew she did not want to ever feel like death.

The moment her anguish reached him, her gritted teeth, her grip, her puffed up eyes welling up even more; his arms wrapped around her waist tightly. He wanted to squeeze all the pain out of her and carry it instead. He couldn’t bear to see his wife in such a state. It was beyond his capacity for pain, as well, but he would endure it, just for her. He would endure anything for her.

Somehow, he instinctively knew this wasn’t going to get better. Even if they took out a loan, they wouldn’t be able to pay it back until much later. Seamus would not stoop down to beg for Duke Ragnvindr's involvement. Her family would be even more livid by such a decision, and probably force her hand in a different way. Seamus’ mind flashed to his daughters. To Elzer and Lydia. He didn’t want to involve them, but they were still a part of their household. He didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t want to put them in a cornered position, much less in any actual danger. The Gunnhildr family was not so cruel as to do that, he thought, but he didn’t know for certain. That tiniest margin of possibility, that something would happen in the future if he didn’t comply now, was enough for him to make up his mind.

If he had the power to end all of this drama before it even began, then he would. You could say that he was weak for not fighting more. For not defying them more. For not taking more time to think about such a decision. That his love was a fluke and as fickle as it comes, if he was so ready to drop his happy union because of one bigger obstacle. He certainly thought about it plenty of times, even as he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered sweet lies to her, for her. As she tried to shake her head and cling to him back, he merely shushed her and quieted her worries. He kissed her tears away, every single onslaught of them, and kept her hidden from the world as she expressed her vulnerability. His warmth was his to give, a comfort only she would have in her arms, and he lamented the treacherous decision he'd made to deceive her.

He held her head close, running his fingers through her dishevelled hair, pressing his lips against her hairline.

“It’s okay… We’ll be okay… I'll look at my assets, see whether they can be sold for a better price...”

She didn’t answer him, perhaps knowing that it was a lie. But he knew she needed it, this comfort, this guise of safety. Just for long enough until she figured out what she could do herself, that is. Seamus knew his wife better than anyone. Not even this town could stop her from chasing after a happiness that was unbecoming of such a place. She was the sole ray of sunshine, tucked right in his arms, unable to shine anywhere else.

Seamus knew she was not meant for being a nomad, not someone as diligent as her. Someone so full of life will burn right out if she was to take on too much. He was not one to be selfish. Not one to defy God, not one to fight. He was not one to take out his fury on a man that had placed them in a tight spot. He was not one to be the hero, but, for just this once, he yearned he could be. So that his Frederica would not weep, so that his children would not suffer due to it all.

They belonged here, in this small but grim town, because death itself feared it. They shall live here, and forget all about mortality. His perfect angels, singing and humming songs of love into eternity.

Yes, only such a fate would do.

He let her cry her pain out for a few hours more, until she fell asleep in his arms. He carried her over to the bed, softly placing her on it. He untied her hair, and took the crumpled up letter from her hands to place it back on the nightstand. He flattened out the edges, tracing the smears of the tears beginning to show in the lines gingerly, before rummaging to take out his own pen and paper.

He wrote a short letter, one unfit of a gentleman, one unfit of a proper husband and father.

"Dear sir, forgive my insolence, however I must beseech you..."

Thus began the months of working so much his family barely saw him. He wrote letters and went on business trips and slowly, but surely, sold off just enough to be able to have enough savings to be considered a decent dowry for both of his girls. They didn't scrimp on food, and he didn't allow Frederica or any of their aides to start working more than they already were. His Freddie looked up from this, but she let it slide. He was able to reassure her enough that he would never betray her. He never did before, after all. Seamus was not one to ever dare to, either. He worked so hard that he had almost forgotten how to live. He left the selling of his own clothes for last, so she wouldn't get too suspicious, so she wouldn't intervene. So she wouldn't notice the approaching farewell they were staring at.

It must've been approaching summer, given the sweltering heat forced Elzer to open up the windows in his office. Seamus was sitting behind his desk, once more, his glasses acting as a mirror to the words on the papers he was reading, how close he held them to his face. He was so focused he didn't hear the knock on the door, nor the opening of it. He didn't notice his beautiful Frederica, not until he scribbled down his signature in the relevant spots, and slumped in his chair in relief. He didn't notice her soft smile as she watched him throw his fists in the air, a victory for the enormous achievement he arrived at, that particular afternoon.

That was the last document he needed to sign before everything was in place. He could finally breathe, knowing his girls would be taken care of.

"Seamus."

"Freddie!"

Their joy was infectious. The softness he had for her, only for her, translated in his hands seeking her own. He would hold these hands for the last time today, for she were to depart with the children to her father's summer villa, somewhere down South. She didn't know of the sacrifices he made to get her father to wait this long. She didn't need to know to still believe in him wholeheartedly, wishing he would come with them. 

He didn't know how to tell her the truth of the matter, so, instead, he lied. He lied like his tongue was made for it, like the sinner and mortal he was. He would do his penance with God later, after they were gone.

"I will join you as soon as work lets up, my love." 

He kissed her softly, meaningfully, but not too obviously as a final goodbye. It was one regardless; knowledge only he was privy to. Knowledge that the Marquis granted him time to tie up any loose ends so he would never have to lay eyes on him ever again. Knowledge, that after she, his two girls and Lydia, rode the carriage up to that villa, they would stay there indefinitely. Knowledge that he didn't even allow them a proper goodbye, for he was a coward, and cowards perform all the time. He would imprint the beautiful weather that allowed his Frederica to shine once more, and gazed into her eyes like he always would, filled with confidence and hope that they would stay alive and comfortable. They would be taken care of, and he would ensure this from a safe distance. One imposed by the Marquis himself.

"We'll be waiting for you."

They left by the time dusk was approaching, his angels were gone. Singing and waving and shouting at him from the carriage windows. He waved back, watching them turn into a speck on the horizon, before returning to his chambers.

He kept telling himself he wasn’t running away in his mind, as he packed the few clothes he hadn't sold in a travel bag, and merely took the most important and urgent documents he needed in a folder. The deed to the house, the documents that still needed his signature, the divorce papers. He would mail all of these to the Marquis later, once he was gone.

He woke up Elzer, who napped in a guest bedroom on days like these, and briefly told him his plans.

Elzer didn’t go against his wishes. Elzer didn’t judge him for the cowardly man his mind kept screaming at him he was. Elzer only asked what he could do to help, and so, he left to borrow a wagon from the neighbours nearby. It couldn't exactly be used given Seamus sold their only horse, so Elzer figured out how to borrow the neighbour’s donkey as well.

Right before they parted, the last thing Seamus remembers saying to him, as he watched the trees pass by at a rapid pace above him, were a few words of regret.

“I’m terribly sorry to inconvenience you like this… It is most likely that you and Lydia will need to find another position elsewhere soon, as well. I have written you recommendation letters, they're in the top drawer back at the mansion, and there are spots left open for you in the Ragnvindr Duchy, however, I understand if you do not wish to—”

“Sire.” Seamus couldn’t see his face, but he knew he was forcing a smile, after so many years of knowing him. “We will be alright. I will make sure of it.”

“Thank you, Elzer… I hope you and Adelinde can have a happy marriage as a result of all this; now that you’re free from my hernia-inducing work.”

He tried to laugh, but it was weak. His heart didn’t want to make room for his lungs to expand enough, as it was an encompassing stone that weighed him into the boards of the wagon. He heard Elzer let out a similar wheeze, and so they continued on the dusty path to the cabin he first bought when he settled down here in silence.

No words were needed for them to know there was no going back.

Diluc was a boy that didn’t like much chatter. The noise made his ears ring and the hairs on his body stand upright in bigger crowds, so it was no surprise that the boy wasn’t that sociable to begin with. This, unfortunately, didn’t stop most families from wanting to talk to him still, so he’d always get invitations to parties and recitals. Ever since he was young, he has learnt to keep his personal opinion inside, and simply go along with the whims of the tonne, even before he reached a suitable age for courtship.

He was his father’s son. A duke in all prospects, someone that needed to uphold his reputation no matter what happened, but also executed power upon the rest of the world just as much. Wherever Diluc went, that’s where all the other young ladies and men would go. And whatever he was interested in, that’s what that group would do their utmost best to keep up to date with. Who he was interested in got showered with questions and attention; whether that was pleasant or not to the other didn’t matter.

All that mattered was whether they had a chance to get closer to Young Master Diluc, the future heir of the Ragnvindr Dukedom, and how they could try to influence him for their own ends.

Diluc didn’t like much of it at all, but he hadn’t much of a choice in the matter. Not when he was obligated to not besmirch his father’s image, or when he’s forced to make an impression on the older generation so he could win their trust later on. Politics were always something that he has had to take part in and take into account. Despite the fact that he was barely 15, and most of his interests lay in two main categories: Animals and the Gunnhildr-Peggs.

Specifically Jean.

On the day he realised he had fallen deeply in love with her, the chatter around him was relentless. The younger lords and ladies had come together for a tea party that included a bit of friendly croquet. The youngins flocked to him once more, trying to put on their friendliest smiles and comments and pin their mark all over his coat. This annoyed him particularly on that day, because they didn’t nearly offer the same kind of attention to his younger brother, who was standing right next to him the entire time. It was as if he didn’t exist.

Knowing that Kaeya was insecure about his standing with the rest of their generation, Diluc has at one point stormed off without offering any explanation to his posse. He simply shrugged off anyone following him, as he strode across the lovely backyard decorated with extravagant fountains and shrubbery in long paces. The faster he was gone from the situation, all the more chance Kaeya had to connect with someone himself. Even though both of them knew those connections were not nearly as impactful or dear as the ones the boys held with the Gunnhildr-Peggs, and even though they probably wouldn’t quell the nagging loneliness they both experienced, it was important for Kaeya to get the chance to talk anyway.

The Lawrence family would understand his absence, Diluc thought. Specifically their youngest daughter and heir apparent, Eula. They had only spoken briefly before, given this summer home was under her direct jurisdiction, and this party being hosted here. From what he gathered from the short discussion, they were both equally appalled by the idea of spending much more time together than necessary. The Lawrence family has been pushing for some kind of arranged marriage with the Ragnvindrs for a long time, even before they were of age. Luckily, his father never gave in.

Diluc wildly shook his head, still running a bit hot from the blatant ignorance Young Lord Pallad showed towards the situation. Honestly, who would say “But of course, he could never outshine your prowess, Master Diluc!” right in front of his brother? It was one thing to try and compliment Diluc on his so-so croquet skills, but another entirely if that meant his brother had to be the butt of the “joke”. How tactless can someone even be to gossip and diminish someone else right in front of their face, pretending you didn’t know they were listening in the first place, at a party no less! And how shameless do you have to be to do that without fearing the consequences—

He heard loud sniffing nearby. It stopped him in his tracks, presenting him with the ever so big dilemma of whether he should meddle or not. Sometimes you just need privacy, of course, and given how far he has stormed off, it wasn’t unlikely that the person in question needed their space. But, what if that was not the case? What if they needed comfort, or were in serious pain but unable to call for help? The servants looking after the young lords and ladies certainly didn’t walk this far to check on them, because the entirety of the group was settled closer to the back entrance of the manor, entranced by the game. The sniffing only got softer, and Diluc almost thought he had imagined it all, until a broken hiccup resounded shortly after.

Ah, damn it all. If they didn’t want him to witness them crying, then they could just tell him to leave.

His short but fervent search for the origins of the world’s most harrowing sound wasn’t fruitless. After checking behind one of the carefully placed trees in the garden, he stumbled upon a sight that ripped his heart to shreds, positively.

Hearing him approach, the girl looked up from her hugged knees. The recognition flashed within her stormy eyes, as she scrambled to her feet, brushing imaginary dust off of the skirt of her dress.

“Master Diluc!”

“Jean.”

She quickly turned around to wipe the residue her tears left on her cheeks, before putting up a wry smile as a façade.

Before she could say anything, he interrupted her. “I didn’t think you were coming today. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, ah—” she fidgeted with the chain of her necklace. “I was just, uhm, admiring the scenery! I thought it’d be such a shame if I didn’t at least enjoy the sights the Lawrence Summer Garden has to offer, so I came here by myself, before I’d join in on the fun back at the party. I should’ve figured that you’d want to accompany me, of course, haha, silly of me not to ask—”

“Jean. Lying isn’t a good look on you.”

Her eyes winced a bit at his biting tone, but they both knew he was right. He stepped closer to her, softly reaching out to hold her shoulder. He didn’t want to come on too strong; harsh as he may have been.

“You know you can tell me anything. If you need me to listen, I’ll listen. If you tell me to back off, I will.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “But don’t lie to me. That hurts a lot more than you’d imagine.”

The wind tousled her hair at just the right moment. Diluc was able to see the exact second Jean’s lips parted in a wavering gasp, and the second wave of tears welled up, her blues shimmering like the bottom of the ocean would. He had that moment all to himself, mercilessly imprinted in his mind from then on, plaguing his mind for years to come.

The way she wholeheartedly let herself trust him, in that instance, as she laughed and emptied out her sorrow through multiple means, her shaky smile intoxicating. She didn’t hang her head, or turn away from him at all. It was as if she couldn’t help but smile, regardless of the pain she was in. Diluc’s first thought was “she’s just like a fairy”, however embarrassing that’d be to admit; and the one that followed was an innate sense of protectiveness he could never shake.

“I would do absolutely anything for her.”

It was a gut punch and a half. A carriage running him over at full speed, the horses starved for action and deadly. The wind was knocked out of him, and all of his bravado from before; words he was taught by his father to tell the people he finds most important, vanished in an instant.

“Thank you, Diluc.”

Her voice brought him out of his stupor. “What for? I didn’t do anything yet—”

“You’ve done plenty.” A pointed look from him earned a giggle through her returned sniffling. “Really! I was just feeling… a bit down today, I guess.”

“Sure seems like it.” He crossed his arms defiantly, another action done to steady himself in front of her vulnerability. “If someone present here today did something to make you cry, I will—”

“Make them pay? And with what evidence?”

“Your testimony should be more than enough to warrant punishment on their end. Or at least some kind of responsibility.”

She took his hands and shook her head with an underlying tone of reluctance. His heart almost stopped when she did, because she never initiated contact herself, because she was too shy to. Jean told him as much, so this was important.

“I’d rather not stir up needless trouble.”

“But someone said or did something to you—”

Dejected. That was the word her face seemed to emanate perfectly. “And they were right for it, too.”

Diluc grit his teeth. “You know that could never be true.”

“...I know. I’m sorry, but…” her sigh came out as a small, frustrated huff, something he could hardly imagine someone so gentle in nature as she was capable of. “Please don’t step in regardless. You can’t protect me from the world, Diluc.”

He didn’t know what kind of expression he was making, because something in the way Jean looked at him shifted, as she turned her body away from him to look at the shrubbery. Feeling her touch leave his body, a deep grumble that he could sense the tremble of in his own chest left him as well. He ran a hand through his hair, entirely messing up the gel Adelinde put in it this morning. He’d have to excuse himself after this. But not before this unfortunate tension was worked away. Diluc wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if he left things where they were. It took him a few beats of silence between them to finally formulate the thoughts running laps in his mind.

“...Jean.”

She didn’t even turn back to look at him, which made the guilt heavier to carry.

“I apologise… I, uh, overstepped. I won’t push you to tell me anything anymore. It’s really… So much for my promise and code from before, huh? It’s really… unacceptable.”

He was still staring at her back.

“Are you mad at me?”

That caused her to spin around. “What? No.”

“Then what’s up with…” he gestured vaguely “all of this?”

“I just… I’m mad at myself. I sincerely apologise if I made you think otherwise—”

“Ah, it’s fine. I’d get it if you were mad.”

“But I’m not.”

“But you’re not.”

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards, even if he tried to suppress them. He could clearly see her eyes shimmering again, as well. Even with this truce, his mind fought against him when it came to her well-being, so he turned every corner of their memories together upside down before coming to a most embarrassing conclusion.

“Well, we won’t be able to enjoy the sights of the shrubbery the garden has to offer if you keep staring at me like that.”

A soft grin nestled in the crooks of her dimples, and he had to make sure his gaze didn’t linger too long in fear of sending off the wrong signals and making her uncomfortable.

“Of course not, when I’m so seemingly depressed.”

He coughed and averted his eyes for a second, resulting in another giggle from her end. Shuffling, he decided to take off his coat and put it down on the grass. Plopping right down, without looking up at her, he patted the seat next to him.

“Might as well try to cheer you up then, if nothing else.” He waited for her to sit down before he lightly prodded again. “Are you sure you don’t wish to speak about it? This is the last time I’ll ask, I promise.”

Jean hugged her knees again, leaning her head against her crossed arms. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“Alright.” Diluc himself let himself lean against the tree behind the two of them. “My wish is your command, m’lady. I’ll allow you one—but only one—favour for today. I can’t spoil you too much now.”

A laugh, finally. A pensive look through tired eyes encased by damp cheeks. He wondered if there was any more sadness hiding behind all of that. Diluc knew he had a decent bond with Jean, but he couldn’t help but fear whether he truly knew her sometimes. Whether she knew him as much as he hoped she did. Whether she wanted to know at all.

“A song would be nice.” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, as if it was prepared for resignation at a moment’s notice.

“Which one?”

She buried her head in her arms again. “You can pick.”

So he chose the only song he really knew by heart; the lullaby she taught him when they were far younger than they are now. His voice was shaky; he couldn’t hold the notes or get the tones right as the melody was carried by a tongue he did not speak. Blades of grass tickled the side of his hand, as well as his slightly exposed ankles, as he snuck nervous glances back at Jean, to judge whether he was horrifying enough yet. Somehow, the way that the spots of sunlight fell onto her silhouette through the leaves above them, made her truly look at peace. He would’ve reached out to pat her head, or wipe away her tears, but he refrained for very simple reasons.

He was afraid that she was slipping away from him, already, so soon, and his heart beat loudly in his chest, the percussion in his arrangement. It was only then, when she set her head onto his shoulder, that he fully understood that the tension was broken entirely. Diluc would not have to lose sleep tonight, and hopefully, she would one day grow to understand that he doesn’t mean to shelter and hide her away from view; but rather, he wants to protect her from all of the worst days that were to come. All of the things that everybody else in her life failed to protect her from. He wanted her to hold onto her freedom, albeit little, albeit for a short while. Just a little bit longer.

Diluc promised himself that he would never force her to face the world on her own, ever again.

Diluc’s resolve to leave didn’t go away, no matter how much Seamus tried to convince him otherwise. Even in the lingering afterthought of their melody, the young Duke decided there was no better time to leave than this. Seamus understood, painfully so, but it was heart wrenching to stand by and watch him mount his horse again. The rain let up and the first strokes of dawn were beginning to make their grand debut into the world. It reminded him of own escape, the wee hours of the night, and Elzer's back turned towards him. The sight of a departure. A small death of a man, in its own right. Seamus clutched at his crucifix, as well as his prayer beads. He prayed for a safe trip, as well as ease on the roads he was set to traverse.

Before, he might’ve scolded the young man before him. He still remembers the first time that Diluc set foot upon the mansion he eventually sold off almost as soon as he paid for it fully. The excitement and reverence for his girls. Now, they’re supposed to be women. Women of calibre, women of their word; women who made a difference when you were in their presence. He longed to see them, and ached in the next letter he might send to his Frederica, who was his in his heart only. It was the only way he was able to get any news about his children. Their children.

Younger than even the child before him, sitting up straight with an indescribable loneliness on his features.

“You must know, young master Diluc, that you will leave them broken hearted if you do this.”

The child huffed. “I know. But they’d hurt a lot worse if I were to stay, as well, wouldn’t they?”

“Nobody can predict the future, and I cannot speak in their name. Not in good conscience, at the very least.”

A smile of understanding creeped up on both of them. The frosty air tickled against their exposed skin, and even with the sun out, they were struggling to see the path before them.

“Be careful now.”

“I will try. And…” Diluc’s eyes tore themselves away from him, closing for a brief second and returning, more vibrantly red than before. “Please tell them I’m sorry.”

“You should tell them so yourself.” The twinkle in Seamus’ eyes was apparent. “As already said, I cannot speak in other people's names. Not even yours—especially not yours—young master.”

“You’d just be a messenger, in this case, wouldn’t you, old man? I give you permission to do so. If you so insist upon acting like a servant of mine, then do try and carry through with it until the end. A good servant always listens to his master.”

“Indeed.” Seamus made a small bow with pristine posture. “I will do as you say, young master.”

Diluc hummed in agreement. He waited for the wind to blow, one last time it seemed, because the moment it stopped, he urged his horse into a gallop, leaving nothing besides a cloud of dust in his wake. Seamus watched, and wondered once more about this new responsibility he has taken on.

The choice the child made was one he knew well. One that didn’t leave room for regret, or second-guessing. He had just broken off the web of security for all of them, while he tried to sort out his own grief. Something nobody could do for him, and something nobody could really fault him for. If this is what was needed, what was wanted, then who were they to complain and convince him not to do it? Even if his duty was to them. Even if he promised not to, and shows genuine remorse for doing so, as if it was an inevitable outcome, it wouldn’t matter. Even if the consequences were scarring, they would handle them in stride. For it was him that it was all for. He was worth the pain, whether he came back or not.

Seamus found that it was responsibility he would carry gladly, even if it wasn’t his in origin.