Mother and son

Octavius stepped into the annex gardens, finding his mother amidst the blossoms, carefully selecting blooms with a discerning eye.

Her expression was distant—more solemn than he remembered. The warmth that once lit her face had dulled, its glow extinguished ever since Rudolph's exile.

Their house, once proud and secure, now teetered on the brink of collapse. Only a fragile thread tied to the imperial family's mercy held them in place—mercy granted solely because of their legacy as long-standing vassals.

Lucerne had since entered Helios' service as a page. It was the emperor's decision to personally oversee the boy's growth, to determine whether he would one day be worthy of reclaiming the title of House Caelus' heir.

Aurora, hearing the soft crunch of gravel beneath his boots, straightened and turned to face him. She offered a faint smile—thin, weary, and weighed down by emotion.

Octavius' heart twisted. That smile—strained and trembling—carried more pain than comfort.

He walked toward her in silence, gently taking her hand and brushing a reverent kiss over her knuckles.

"Mother…"

Her eyes, clear but tired, met his. "Tavi," she replied softly.

"What troubles you?" he asked, his voice laced with quiet hesitation, unsure if he dared open a wound they both bore.

"Do I truly appear so sorrowful?" she murmured, tilting her head with the same practiced grace she always wore.

"I know. Lucerne knows. Even Ty. We all see it. You've walled yourself off… hiding behind solitude and silence," he said, lowering his gaze, ashamed to confront the truth reflected in her eyes.

For a moment, the garden was still. The breeze rustled gently through the leaves, but neither spoke.

Then, Aurora exhaled a heavy sigh and reached out, cradling his face in her hand. Her touch was soft—warm with maternal affection.

"Tavi… look at me."

Her voice, though gentle, carried the unshakable resolve of a mother's unconditional love.

He flinched but obeyed, forcing himself to meet her eyes.

"I know you wronged the imperial family," she said, her voice even but soft.

Guilt struck him like a blade. His gaze faltered.

"But I also know you had no choice. You were torn—between your father's ambitions and your heart's devotion. You endured that agony, and you still carry its weight. But don't bear it alone, my son. We are still here—for you. I am here for you. Even if the world turns away, know that your mother never will."

Her hand gently brushed his cheek.

"But you've changed," she added. "You rarely smile now. The son I knew—the one who could brighten the darkest rooms—is vanishing."

Octavius' voice trembled. "You've changed too. You've grown distant. The cheerful mother who once kept us all whole… she's fading."

Aurora's expression darkened with sorrow. "What your father did… was unforgivable. The imperial court had every right to demand his execution."

Octavius stared. "You knew?"

She gave a slow nod, but her eyes shifted to the horizon. "What right did I have to beg His Majesty for mercy?"

Octavius lowered his head.

"But… I recently received word," Aurora continued, her voice softening. "Despite the disdain of the imperial court… Princess Melody has chosen to maintain her engagement to Lucerne."

"What?" Octavius looked up, stunned.

Luciana, Helios, even Aria had cast their house into shadow. He never expected mercy from any of them, let alone a bond like an engagement to survive the disgrace. But Melody had insisted on keeping it?

"Perhaps it's their way of keeping us in check," he said grimly. "They no longer trust us. And why should they? We are the architects of our own downfall."

"Helios did intervene," Aurora admitted. "But the princess stood firm. She accepted the engagement as duty, though it's clear her heart has never belonged to Lucerne—or anyone else. No one can discern what she's truly thinking. She suffers in silence… and yet, she never cast us aside."

As they walked further down the garden path, they approached a marble fountain, where a tender scene caught their eyes.

Leila stood slightly bent, arms outstretched.

"Come on, Nia. You can do it!" she called out with radiant encouragement.

Little Apollonia wobbled forward with determined steps, her tiny feet making careful progress as her mother guided her. Each step was hesitant but precious.

Aurora paused, a soft smile breaking through her somber mood. "She's walking already…" she whispered, wonder softening her tone.

Octavius followed her gaze to where Leila knelt, catching Apollonia just as she stumbled and fell on her bottom. The toddler looked up and laughed.

"Wonderful, Nia! You're getting the hang of it," Leila cooed as she scooped her daughter up into a warm embrace.

"She's a lovely child," Aurora said. "So bright… and so full of love."

"Who?" Octavius blinked, caught off guard.

"Apollonia, of course. Who else?" Aurora looked at him with a knowing smile.

He flushed. "Oh. I just… thought of someone else."

The way his voice faltered didn't escape her notice.

"You're drawn to Leila, aren't you?" she teased, her smile turning playful.

"M-Mother… that's just your imagination," he stammered, red blooming across his face.

She laughed softly. "It was the same when you were younger, with Luciana. I'm your mother, Tavi. Who would know your heart better than me?"

He muttered something unintelligible and looked away in embarrassment.

Just then, Leila noticed them and stood, brushing off her skirts.

"Lady Aurora, Lord Octavius," she greeted with a polite bow. "Good afternoon."

"My, how amazing Apollonia was just now! She reminded me of when you, Lucerne, and Ty took your first steps," Aurora said, reaching down to pinch the toddler's rosy cheeks.

"M-Mother!" Octavius groaned, mortified. "Must you tell that story?"

"Why not? You fell straight into the garden fountain, remember?" she said with a glint in her eye.

Leila stifled a laugh behind her hand. "My lord… you're flushed. Are you feeling well?"

Octavius glanced at her—at the lilac eyes that seemed to search his soul—and panicked.

"N-no! I'm perfectly fine. I should… take my leave now," he said hastily, bowing stiffly before making a quick escape.

"He left so suddenly. Is he truly alright?" Leila asked, watching him disappear around the hedgerow.

"He's fine," Aurora replied with a gentle chuckle. "He's just embarrassed."

She took Leila's arm as the two women began to make their way back toward the annex.

"Come now. Let's have some tea. The weather's still a touch chilly," Aurora said warmly.

And just like that, for a while at least, the worries faded—replaced by laughter, memories, and a toddler's first steps into the world.