Chapter 36: Until His Father Wakes

Chapter 36: Until His Father Wakes After that night, rumors spread like wildfire. By morning, every corner of the capital buzzed with one single scandal—the Everhart mansion had been attacked. Grand Duke Regis, one of the Empire’s most powerful men, was nearly assassinated within the walls of his ancestral home. But—fortunately—the Emperor went and saved them. That was what everyone said. The shopkeepers. The nobility. The maids whispered in the corners of the palace halls when they thought no one was listening. "The Emperor himself rode out in the dead of night!" "I heard the Grand Duke was injured." "An ambush! Right under our noses!" "But His Majesty... he personally led the assault to rescue them—can you believe it?" Their voices were always low. Always urgent. Like they were trying not to be caught by invisible ears. But I heard them. Last night was chaos after Papa had left immediately. The palace turned upside down in his absence—guards running, horses galloping into the darkness. And he didn’t come back until the first light of dawn. Even then, it wasn’t calm. It was worse. A rush of footsteps. A flurry of messengers. The smell of blood, faint but unmistakable, clung to the fabric of the empire like an unshakable shadow. Then— "Lady Nerina... they have arrived." Marella burst through the nursery doors, her face pale, lips trembling. Her usual poise was gone, lost somewhere between panic and urgency. "Really?" Nanny gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. "How are they? Are they going to be alright?" Marella shook her head, her voice quiet but rushed. "I’m not sure, but they must be in serious condition. I heard little lord fainted and the Grand duke regis was severely injured." "Oh my god," Nanny gasped. "His Majesty immediately summoned the imperial doctor and the High Priest. They’re doing everything they can to save him, and it is said that he will heal soon." Nanny and I let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least Osric didn’t lose his father like in the novel. It’s still tragic. Still terrifying. But... at least he won’t be completely alone. There will still be someone left to steady him, to hold his hand through the storm. Marella continued, her words fast, tumbling over each other. "I also heard there’s going to be an emergency meeting. His Majesty has summoned everyone. Even the Chancellor was called in." I see; the whole capital must be in chaos. Even though Grand Duke Regis and Osric had survived... this news would shake the Empire to its core. A direct attack on the Everharts wasn’t just an act of violence. It was a declaration of war. Papa may not always show it, but when it comes to the Everharts... he’s sensitive. Protective. They raised him when the rest of the world turned its back. They fought for him and bled for him. That’s why... in the novel, Papa even abandons his own daughter—me—for Osric. "I also heard when the Emperor arrived," Marella continued, "all the workers and maids in the Everhart mansion were already dead. Slaughtered." Nanny’s eyes widened. "Oh, my lord... the little lord must be terrified." Marella nodded solemnly, and Nanny clasped her hands together in prayer. "Oh, Lord, please help the little lord get through this." I hope so too. Silence settled over the room. Thick. Unbreathable. Like a storm cloud hanging low and heavy. Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windows as if mourning with the capital. I could hear it—distant but sharp—the sound of boots thundering through palace halls, the clink of armor, messengers rushing like angry bees from one wing to the next. Urgency clung to the air like frost—cold, invisible, and inescapable. The palace had turned into a battlefield of its own. No one was smiling. No one was calm. I sat still, unusually quiet for someone my age. My little legs dangled from the edge of the chair, too short to reach the floor, but my thoughts were anything but small. My mind raced—far faster than my feet ever could. Then I felt a gentle hand smoothing down my hair. "Princess... are you worried?" Nanny asked softly. I nodded, leaning into her warmth. Then I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly. "I’m worried for Osric." Nanny smiled gently, brushing a curl away from my cheek. "Would you like to go and see our little lord? Maybe he needs you, my princess." "Me?" I blinked. She nodded. "Yes. Sometimes, the quiet presence of someone who cares... is more powerful than any medicine." I don’t know if Osric needs me. But... I should go. As a mere two-year-old child, I can’t give a rousing speech or wipe away all his fears. But at the very least... I can be with him until Grand Duke Regis recovers. *** The East Wing, The halls felt colder than usual. I felt it—the chill of fear, of grief, of something far too heavy for a two-year-old to carry. Nanny held my hand tightly as we walked, her steps fast but careful, guards and servants parting to let us through. No one said a word. They just bowed and stepped aside. Marella guided us toward the wing where the Everharts had been taken, her lips pressed into a thin line. Every so often, she glanced down at me, uncertainty flickering in her gaze—as if wondering if I should be here at all. But she didn’t stop walking. The room was heavily guarded—four knights stood at the doors, tense and unmoving, swords at their sides. But when they saw me, one of them opened the door without a word. Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed on your ears and curled around your lungs. The smell of herbs and blood clung to the air like something too stubborn to leave. I wrinkled my nose but didn’t say anything. There were voices—soft ones—hushed, like secrets spoken in prayer. The High Priest. The Imperial Doctor. A few imperial knights stood near the far side of the room. Then I saw him. Curled up in bed. Pale. Still. Too still. Osric. His arm was wrapped in clean bandages. A faint cut traced his cheek, red against the pallor of his skin. He looked so small—so breakable—like he was trying to disappear beneath the covers. His breathing was uneven. Shaky. He looked like someone who’d been left alone too long in the dark. He didn’t see me come in. I let go of Nanny’s hand and took a step forward, then another. The thick carpet muffled my steps, but each one felt heavier than the last. "Osric..." I whispered. He didn’t move. I hesitated. My fingers trembled at my sides. Then I reached out, small fingers brushing his hand. His skin was cold and damp—like someone waking from a nightmare they couldn’t escape. Maybe he had. Maybe this whole thingwas a nightmare. One neither of us could wake up from. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t good at these things. I never learned how to be comforting or kind—not in my old life, not in this one. But I knew what it was like to be scared. To feel small. I knew what it meant to be alone. He didn’t need words right now. He did not need any encouraging words. So I did the only thing I could. I held his hand. His fingers twitched beneath mine. And slowly—so slowly—they curled around me. The room faded. The whispers fell away. For a while, it was just the two of us—a trembling boy clinging to consciousness, and a little girl who didn’t have the right words... but gave what she could. Her presence. Her silence. Her warmth. And I hoped—more than anything—that it would be enough. Just until his father woke up. *** Hours passed. The sun had long since climbed the sky and dipped back down, but inside the quiet chamber, time felt strange. Slow. Heavy. Like it had curled itself up beside Osric and me, waiting in silence. Neither of us moved. His hand stayed in mine. Nanny and Marella sat close by, quiet as ghosts. They didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt. They just watched, eyes glossy with worry, breaths shallow, like they were afraid even breathing too loud might shatter the fragile peace. And then—after what felt like forever— "...Lavi?" His voice was small. Hoarse. I looked up, and Osric was already watching me. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired but awake now. "Do you think..." he whispered, lips trembling, "...Father will be okay?" I blinked. Then smiled. Not a big smile. Not a silly one. Just a warm one—soft and steady, like how Papa smiled at me when I fell down but didn’t cry. "Of course he would," I said, nodding confidently. "Your papa is super strong. He’s like... like a big mountain." Osric sniffled. "Mountains don’t get hurt..." "Maybe," I shrugged, swinging my legs a little. "But sometimes even strong things get sleepy. They need to rest so they can get strong again." He looked down at our joined hands. "He didn’t wake up..." I scooted a little closer. "He will. You just have to wait. Papa says good things take time. Like pancakes." Osric let out a small, wobbly laugh. "Pancakes?" "Uh-huh," I said seriously, puffing out my cheeks. "If you flip them too fast, they go splat." He smiled a little, and I felt it—his fingers tightening around mine again. A little more alive than before. "...I was scared," he whispered. "I know," I whispered back. "We are kids. Nanny says, it’s normal for us to get scared." Osric mumbled, "But I want to be strong. I don’t want to get scared." There was a pause. Then I smiled again, nodding with all the certainty in the world. "Of course you’ll be strong. I know you will be very, very strong. Like our papas." His gaze flicked toward me, uncertain. "Really?" "Yes," I said, pressing his hand gently between mine. "I’m very, very sure." Because it’s real. Not just strong like a second male lead... but osric will be strong in the future. After all... he is the male lead of this story. And then his eyes fluttered shut slowly, lashes brushing pale skin as he finally let himself rest. "If you say so," he murmured. And for now—that was enough.