The knock came softly. "Matriarch? Your breakfast has been prepared, and His Majesty is presently in the dining chamber.
The words filtered through Ett's awareness like sound through deep water. They registered, then drifted, dull and distant, before dissolving entirely beneath the weight pressing her limbs into the mattress,
Ugh. Man, she still wants to sleep ah.
She's too exhausted.
Her body felt heavy in a way sleep alone did not explain. It was the sort of heaviness that sank into bone, that made even breath an effort to draw in fully. Somehow, the thought of rising, of sitting upright, of walking into a room and facing her son left her with a frown.
"Matriarch?"
The voice came again, closer now, tinged with hesitation.
Ett did not answer. She turned her face slightly into the pillow. Come on, she's not in the mood for today. She wants to retreat from the world, the sound, and the act of getting up. Her blanket was drawn high, cocooning her in warmth. She clung to it without conscious thought as though it were an anchor keeping her from drifting apart.
Outside the door, Ares stood uncertainly, hands clasped behind his back. He had served at the Matriarch's side for a bit yet long enough to understand her silence, to distinguish between deliberate disregard and simple languor. This silence unsettled him.
Should he call again?
Ares took a step forward, then halted. Took another step back.
His Majesty, the Emperor, was in the dining chamber. That alone was enough to give the moment weight. The Emperor did not often appear at morning meals, so rarely that the absence of pattern made the presence more conspicuous. Coincidence, perhaps. Or perhaps not.
Should he go in or not?
If only Sire Akan were present, Ares thought. He would know the proper course. He always did.
Surely, there is a need to excuse... but if it's His Majesty, he would just nod and continue to eat... yes, perhaps that is true.
Besides, the Matriarch had been cold and distant, her gaze sharp even when her voice was mild. Yet she had never been silent in this way.
"…"
Ares raised his hand and knocked again, softer than before.
"Please forgive my presumption. I shall enter the Matriarch's chamber."
Stillness answered him.
No word. No rustle. No sign of awareness.
Ares waited several heartbeats longer, then slowly pushed the door open.
"Greetings to the Matriarch. I beg pardon for my rudeness just now. The Emp…"
His words falter.
The chamber was dim, and the curtains were drawn against the light. The bed lay undisturbed save for the shape beneath the blankets. Ett was curled inward, her form small and tightly drawn, as though she sought to make herself vanish. On her right side, nestled close, a bird slept.
A lyrebird.
Its wings are drawn protectively around something wrapped against its body. Bandages were visible beneath the features, neat but unmistakable. The bird's breathing was shallow, uneven, the rhythm of a creature recovering from grievous harm.
Ares swallowed.
"Matriarch?"
He stepped closer, careful not to disturb either of the two. The chamber was silent save for the faint sound of breath.
Nothing.
No response.
"I shall bring your meal here, then," he said quietly.
As it seems that the Matriarch won't be able to attend the dinner with His Majesty, he could bring her meal here.
This time, a sound came.
"Mmm."
It was low, strained, barely a sound at all. It seemed pulled from her chest with effort, as though even the smallest response cost her dearly.
Ares nodded and turned to leave.
"Please wait a moment, matriarch." He'll bring her a meal.
No wait.
Ares paused.
Hard time speaking?
The lady's tone had been wrong. He had heard her speak in weariness before, in irritation, even in deliberate indifference. This was different. There was weight in that sound, weight that did not belong to sleep alone.
The longer he stood beside her, the clearer it became.
Something is wrong.
Most mornings, even when she wished to be left alone, she would answer him: a single word, a dismissive hum, a glance. Never silence.
"I beg your forgiveness for my boldness," Ares murmured. "I shall remove your blanket."
No objection came.
No movement or protest.
Certainty settled coldly in his heart.
He drew the blanket back with care.
Ett lay curled upon herself, white nightdress clinging to her frame. Ett's brow was drawn tight, lips parted slightly as though breath itself required concentration. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, unhealthy red.
Ares leaned down, pressing her forehead against his.
Heat.
Scalding, unmistakable heat.
He recoiled, then spun towards the door.
"Quickly," he called sharply. "Summon Physician Fran at once. The Matriarch burns with fever. Lia!"
Lia tilted her head in confusion.
"Right…"
These people… he can't expect much emotion, but still, they're human; they should be able to understand what he meant.
"The Matriarch is sick. Let the Physician know, hurry! Inform the Em.."
Ares stopped himself.
He stopped himself.
No. Not yet.
His eyes flicked back to Ett, to the small, fragile shape on the bed.
"Never mind," he said, his voice lower. "Bring water, a basin, and fresh garments for the Matriarch. Once done, please find the Physician and tell him what happened."
"Yes, sire," Lia answered, already moving.
"How in the Adiand did this come to pass?" Ares muttered under his breath.
His thoughts raced. Had the Matriarch gone into the garden without a proper covering? Had she lingered too long in the cool air? Even brief exposure could take its toll on a constitution as frail as hers.
Ares had known she was this delicate, yet he had not realized it was this severe.
"Here, sire."
"Thank you."
Ares dipped the linen cloth in the water and wrung it tightly, squeezing out the excess water before gently placing it on Ett's forehead.
After that…he doesn't know what to do. The garments were just there in case the Matriarch needed to change clothes.
"Is the physician…not yet here?"
He can't just touch the Matriarch willy-nilly.
"I am here," came a heaving reply. "Here…here."
Physician Fran entered, controlling his heaving breath, his instruments already in hand. He approached the bed with calm eyes, examining Ett with careful precision. His fingers checked her pulse, breathing, and the heat of her skin.
He sighed and began caring for Ett.
After a while, with new clothes, he stopped with a huff.
"Her Grace takes cold with alarming ease," he said at last, straightening.
"She must not be exposed to changing airs, nor wander without restraint. It would be best if she remained within familiar confines. Even within the palace, excess movement is still not advised."
Ares listened in silence, his gaze never leaving Ett's face.
"Before returning to her chamber," the Physician continued, "it would have been acceptable had she remained seated for an hour, or confined herself to her usual garden. Beyond that, the risk grows very seriously."
Physician Fran's gaze left Ett and turned to him. He stepped closer to Ares and placed a hand upon his shoulder. There was pity in his eyes.
"Patience," Fran said quietly. "A bird kept long within a cage, when given the chance to wander, will still return to it. Such is their nature."
"???"
This…are you implying I'm the one who let her out secretly? I don't even know!
Then more firmly, "Guard your heart, Ares. Do not become too entangled in your duty."
He really does not understand such meaningful advice.
"Sire, I am confused. Why speak thus to me?"
Physician Fran studied him for a moment, his gaze sharp but not unkind.
"If Her Grace worsens, let me know. I shall take my leave."
"…Then I thank you for your assistance," Ares replied stiffly.
"There is no need," Physician Fran shook his head. "We serve the same royals."
When the Physician departed, the chamber seemed quieter still.
Ares remained where he stood, thoughts churning.
A small chuckle escaped his lips.
"I see."
Still, if anything were to happen to the Matriarch, his position would be the first to crumble. He had no long-standing trust from the Emperor like the rest of them, nor was he like the others, whose thoughts were reformed and whose emotions were a bit lackluster as a result. The main people here are pillars, and he was replaceable.
And yet, Ares loved this post.
It was easier; it granted him the freedom he had never known.
As he deeply considers what the Physician meant, he realizes that to continue living this kind of life, he must act genuinely; that's better than being fake. He had grown tired of pretending that the Matriarch does not care either way as long as he does what he is told.
"Ugh."
A sound broke the stillness in his mind.
"Matriarch!"
Ett's brows drew together. She opened her eyes only a sliver, casting a fleeting glance in his direction before turning to face the bird beside her.
"Loud," she muttered.
Ares bowed. "Forgive me, I was overly relieved to see you awake."
Ett nodded. She sighed softly and allowed her eyes to close once more.
But this time, her breathing was even.
Sweat beaded lightly upon her skin, less than before. The tension in her brow eased.
She looked, in that moment, no different from any child of her apparent age. Small. Vulnerable. Unmarked by weight of crown or blood.
If she did not open her eyes, one might believe her innocent of all worldly matters.
Even he might be deceived.
"Matriarch, at least have a slight meal lest you'll be famished."
Famished…let me be famished.
"No."
"Then… please have a sip of water."
"…"
Ett merely looked at Ares and turned to the side.
Right now, all she wanted to do was fall asleep.
"Then I'll stay and guard you for the night. If you need anything, please just call out."
He pulled the rope beside Ett's bed to call the maid, and swiftly enough, one of them already opened the door.
"Sire."
"Lia, it's you." Ares smiled at the maid. She was the one who told him everything about this place; however, like any servant, it seems she is a walking straw. Still, there were slight emotions in their eyes, yet not enough. "Take this. The Matriarch doesn't have an appetite to eat yet, and please bring me the book in my chamber, which was placed on my nightstand."
"Understood."
In this place, even if they were the nobles of the highest ranks, once their thoughts are reformed, they are all equal.
Ares sat to watch Ett.
The lyrebird had shifted, its wings now stretched protectively across Ett's face. Ares observed its movement and chose not to interfere. Whatever bond existed between them, it was not his place to move it. Instead, he carefully adjusted the blanket and retook his seat.
Not long enough, Lia came back carrying his book and left shortly.
This place is too dull. It's only the Matriarch who is indolent, who could most of the time be interesting. Even watching her is enough.
Now he understands Akan, yet he can't tease the Matriarch as he can.
"Rest well, Matriarch."
He'll read while watching over her.
At the doorway, unseen, a figure paused.
Guren had been passing by on an idle whim after he finished eating his meal. And what a bizarre sight had caught his eye. Observing in silence, before he turned away.
The one who shared his blood lay weakened, yet still drew others close.
That's new.
Even a servant, newly placed, lingered at her side with such devotion.
Guren gave a soft, humorless sound.
The Empress Dowager had always been adept with people's emotions. To favor one servant more than the rest, this person has quite a skill, rivaling Akan, who serves her like a dog.