Chapter:14 Guardian's of Fragile

**Guardian's of fragile**

Marcus sat in his study, surrounded by a mountain of documents pertaining to the affairs of the dukedom. His brow furrowed in concentration as he sifted through the papers, his mind consumed by the weight of his responsibilities.

As if on cue, Alexander sauntered into the room, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Ah, Marcus, always buried in paperwork," he remarked sarcastically, his tone laced with amusement.

Marcus shot his friend a wry smile, though his expression remained serious. "Someone has to keep this place running smoothly," he replied dryly, gesturing to the stacks of documents before him.

The jovial atmosphere quickly sobered as Alexander broached a weighty topic. "With the emperor's passing, we can't afford to leave the throne vacant for long," he stated bluntly, his gaze fixed on Marcus. "The empire is already teetering on the brink of chaos, and the other nobles are clamoring for a leader."

Marcus's frown deepened at the mention of the throne. "I never sought power for its own sake," he confessed, his voice tinged with reluctance. "My only goal was to seek justice for my sister's death."

Alexander nodded in understanding, though his eyes betrayed a hint of skepticism. "And yet, here we are," he remarked dryly. "The nobles see you as their natural leader, Marcus. You have the strength, the charisma, and the respect of your peers. It's only a matter of time before they demand you take your place on the throne."

Marcus's jaw clenched at the notion, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for that kind of responsibility," he admitted, his voice tinged with doubt.

Alexander's smirk widened, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "Funny," he quipped, "because I seem to recall you running this dukedom single-handedly since you were old enough to hold a sword. If anyone is fit to lead, it's you, my friend."

Marcus offered no retort, his thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions. "We'll discuss this further at tomorrow's meeting," he declared, his tone final as he turned his attention back to the documents spread out before him.

As Alexander departed, Marcus couldn't shake the nagging feeling of uncertainty that lingered in the air. The weight of the crown loomed heavy upon his shoulders, and he knew that whatever decision he made would shape the fate of the dukedom for years to come.

Alfred's revelation about Veronica, Marcus's expression hardened, his mind reeling with the injustices inflicted upon her. He nodded to Alfred, his jaw set in determination. "Thank you, Alfred. I'll look into this immediately."

Alexander couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Marcus further. "Ah, so our noble knight is finally taking an interest in matters of the heart," he quipped, his smirk evident in his voice.

Marcus's gaze flickered with annoyance, but he maintained his composure. "This is not a matter to be trifled with, Alexander," he replied firmly, his tone brooking no argument.

Alexander raised an eyebrow in amusement, his expression incredulous. "Of course, of course," he conceded, though his smirk remained firmly in place. "But you must admit, it's not every day we see the great Marcus Aurelius so taken with a lady."

Marcus's lips tightened into a thin line, but before he could respond, Alfred interjected with news of Anaya. Marcus's concern for the young girl was palpable as Alfred recounted her distressing episode.

"What happened to her?" Marcus demanded, his voice laced with urgency. "Is she alright?"

Alfred hesitated for a moment before continuing, his tone grave. "She... she had a nightmare, my Lord," he explained, his voice tinged with sadness. "It seemed to upset her greatly. She cried out in distress before collapsing."

As Alfred explained Anaya's condition, Marcus's worry deepened, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "What did the doctor say?" he demanded, his voice tinged with urgency.

Alfred's expression grew somber as he relayed the doctor's diagnosis. "The doctor believes Miss Anaya is suffering from trauma, my Lord," he explained, his tone heavy with regret. "She's not eating well, and her physical health is deteriorating. She's become nothing but skin and bones."

Marcus's eyes narrowed with anger as he processed the severity of Anaya's condition. "How could this happen?" he exclaimed, his voice rising with frustration. "Who was responsible for her care?"

Alfred bowed his head in shame. "It was my negligence, my Lord," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I failed to ensure the maids were properly attending to her needs."

Marcus's jaw clenched with determination. "Then you will rectify this immediately," he declared, his voice firm. "Dismiss the current maids responsible for Anaya's care and hire new ones. Instruct them to prioritize her well-being above all else. I won't tolerate anything less."

With a solemn nod, Alfred accepted his master's decree and departed to carry out his orders.

Alexander observed the exchange with a knowing look, his tone laced with sarcasm. "You seem to care deeply for your sister," he remarked casually. "Does she even know?"

Marcus's expression darkened at the mention of his sister, his thoughts consumed by memories of their past. "It's better if she doesn't," he replied tersely, his voice heavy with emotion. "Anaya has suffered enough. The last thing she needs is to bear the burden of my affection."

As the weight of responsibility settled upon his shoulders, Marcus's gaze drifted to the window, his mind consumed by thoughts of his sister and the fragile girl who now resided under his roof. In the quiet solitude of his study, he vowed to do whatever it took to ensure Anaya's well-being, even if it meant sacrificing his own desires in the process. For in the depths of his heart, he knew that the bonds of family were forged not in words, but in deeds—a truth he was determined to honor, no matter the cost.