"Mother..."
Ophelia looked at her mother with wide emerald eyes filled with fright. She called to her with such desperation that her concern for her mother's well-being was written plainly across her face.
She could no longer bear to see her mother lifeless, sitting in the same place all day, staring out as if waiting for someone who would never come.
"Mother...!"
At her call again, her mother finally noticed and turned her attention toward her.
"What's the matter, Ophelia? Are you not able to sleep, hmm?"
"Uhm... why do we not go outside anymore? Do you not want to see the garden?"
Her mother put on a gentle smile for her daughter, but her eyes still seemed empty to Ophelia.
"Hmm... Don't worry about Mother, Ophelia. If you wish to go outside for a walk, ask your nanny. She will take you out in my place."
Despite all her efforts, even going so far as to put on the facade of a cheerful mother, she still could not ease her daughter's heart.
"But... she's looking after Brother Ethan at the moment, and... I want to go on a walk with you, like we used to."
"Hmm..."
She reached out both of her hands and lifted Ophelia up, gently settling her in her lap.
"Then, how about this? When you grow up to be a fine young lady, we'll go for walks more often, and even outside the palace walls."
"Really...?"
"Mm-hmn."
"It's a promise, right?"
"Yes. I promise."
Soon after, she fell back into her hollow shell, her gaze drifting once again to the window. The evening moon shone brightly, yet her eyes seemed drawn to the darkness rather than the light.
Knock. Knock.
After a brief silence, the door creaked open and a woman entered the room.
"Your Majesty, Lord Frederick Ashbourne has come to meet you."
She turned her gaze to the maid, her expression surprised.
"Right now...?"
"Yes."
She stood up from the chair, lifting her daughter gently in her arms, who had fallen asleep in her lap, and laid her gently on the bed, resting her head on the warm pillow.
"For what reason has he come this time?"
"That... he didn't say anything. He just told us to inform you."
She softly brushed aside the hair that had fallen on Ophelia's pale face and gazed at her for a long while. Because, to a mother, her children were the sole light in the darkness.
"Does His Majesty know about it?"
"No. It doesn't seem like His Majesty is aware of his visit this time."
"Hm. That must be it. If he knew, he wouldn't have allowed him in. However, once he finds out about him coming this late, and without permission at that. I'm sure he will prohibit his entry."
Before they could continue their conversation, someone opened the door.
"Louise!!"
She met Frederick's gaze, then turned quickly back to look at her daughter, Ophelia.
"Hm... hmn..."
He stepped forward hurriedly, reaching closer to her with each step.
"Brother...? What is the matter? Has something happened to Father?"
"No... no. He is doing just fine."
"Then why are you here at this hour?"
"...Uhm-mm..."
His attention shifted toward Ophelia, who seemed as though she would wake if they continued speaking.
"Let's take this outside, or Ophelia might wake up."
"Ah, alright."
They both turned and walked away, unaware that Ophelia's eyes had opened briefly. Her gaze was blurry as she mumbled.
"Mo...ther..."
'Mother... where is she going...?'
She stirred, her lashes fluttered open as she found herself in an unfamiliar place.
There was a moment of quiet confusion in her eyes, the kind one wore when caught between dreams and waking.
Her still-blurry gaze shifted to her left, then to her right, where a familiar figure stood a short distance away.
"Lord... Arthur..."
He turned his gaze toward her just as he finished adjusting his cuffs.
"Oh. You're awake? How are you feeling now?"
Before she could respond, he reached out his hand and lightly touched her forehead.
"Huh...?"
"Phew... thankfully, you don't seem to have a fever. Are you feeling alright? Or are you in pain anywhere else?"
She looked at him, surprise evident on her face. After all, no one had treated her with such care since her mother had passed away.
"Your Highness...?"
"Ah, yes. I'm feeling much better now."
"That's good."
Arthur moved a step back and gave a gentle tug to the bell pull.
"But where am I…?"
Ophelia looked around the room, confused.
"Ah. You're currently in my chamber. Yours is being cleaned at the moment."
"Pardon?! How… did I get here?"
"Huh? Don't you remember? I carried you here myself last night."
Her brow furrowed.
"Did you?"
"Mhm."
'It seems she was quite stressed yesterday and didn't even notice… or perhaps she had already fallen asleep in my arms.'
He sat down on a chair placed nearby and continued.
"You haven't eaten since yesterday morning, have you? You missed both the afternoon and evening meals."
She didn't answer, and silence often speaks louder than denial.
Knock. Knock.
The sound at the door drew their attention.
"Yes, come in."
The door opened and Julia entered the room with a silver tray balanced in her arms, steam curling from the covered dish.
Arthur took it from her hands slowly and dismissed her.
"You may go now."
"Yes, young master."
She bowed and left the room silently.
Arthur returned to the bedside, placed the tray on the nightstand, and drew his chair closer.
"You must be hungry, right?"
"Not really."
"Hm. Even if you don't have an appetite, you should still eat a little."
Arthur lifted the bowl of soup, its faint aroma drifting in the air, and offered it to Ophelia. Her fingers brushed against his as she accepted it, the touch light but trembling.
"I was at the Granvilles' until yesterday. And when I returned, I was informed that you had instructed my people not to disturb me… not for something trivial."
Her gaze lowered further. She didn't speak, but she didn't have to.
"It might have seemed trivial to Your Highness, but it wasn't to me. So I ask you, sincerely, don't be considerate in that way. I don't find you troublesome at all."
He let out a quiet sigh and continued.
"However, even after all I have said and done, if you still continue to treat me like a stranger, I would truly feel wronged. It would make things rather uncomfortable for me. Since we'll be staying together for some time, perhaps even for a lifetime in the future, I want us to be at ease with each other. Is that too much to ask?"
He met her emerald eyes, dulled by fatigue, by the weight of a life lived beneath scrutiny and silence.
"I want to be the one you can lean on. I want to care for you. Not out of obligation, but because I choose to. It's my duty… and my responsibility as your fiancé."
Her eyes widened, just barely. And Arthur sensed the quiet disbelief, the suspicion born from too many broken promises.
No one had ever looked at her this way. Not with affection unmarred by demands, not with protection offered freely.
She must have heard a thousand words that promised the world. And each time, the cost had come later.
"I think I will need some time to think it over."
"I understand."
Arthur noticed the subtle tremor of her hand as she lifted the spoon. The strain in her wrist. The effort it cost her just to bring it to her lips.
"Ah. Forgive me, Princess. I should have noticed sooner."
He gently took the bowl from her hands. He stirred the soup once and raised the spoon.
"I'll feed you myself. At least until your hands heal."
"Y-you don't have to trouble—"
"No, I insist."
She didn't argue again. She simply lowered her gaze, her lashes trembling ever so slightly.
"…Thank you. Lord Arthur."
"Arthur."
She blinked, surprised.
"Pardon?"
"Call me Arthur, from now on. At least when it's just the two of us."
A faint blush touched her cheeks as he offered her the first spoonful, and she accepted it with quiet grace.
Her lips parted to receive it as if this moment, this simple act of care, was something foreign to her.
"Then… please feel free to address me comfortably too."
"I will, Ophelia."
Her name felt strange on his tongue. Intimate. Not a title, not a role, but a person.
He fed her in silence, spoon after spoon, until the bowl was empty. She didn't rush, and he didn't press her. There was a quiet rhythm in it, a shared stillness that required no embellishment.
When she finished, he set the bowl aside and stood.
"Where…"
Her voice stopped him as her hand caught the edge of his sleeve.
"...Wh-where are you going?"
He paused, turning slightly so she wouldn't see the look in his eyes.
"I have some work outside the manor today. There are a few things I need to take care of."
"…I see."
Her voice had softened again, uncertain, almost reluctant.
Arthur was, after all, the only one she truly knew here. The only one who had stayed by her side.
"Don't worry. I'll return by the evening."
He offered a faint smile as he gently uncurled her fingers from his sleeve.
"Let's have dinner together then."
Her expression softened as she replied to him.
"…Alright."