Alexander trudged forward—wiping the remnants of tears from his cheeks.
André followed closely, leading him down a side path lined with blooming hedges and glowing street lamps.
The sun was beginning to set, and a chill whipped around them.
"Do you really think they'll help me?"
Alexander asked, his voice quieter now.
André nodded.
"Absolutely."
He paused—before flashing that easy smile.
"You'll have to apologize though, something big."
He glanced down at Alexander with a glint in his eye.
Alexander blinked.
"Big? Big Like how?"
"You gotta hug 'em, a tight, warm embrace."
Alexander's eyes bucked, nearly tripping over himself while stumbling forward.
"W-what do you mean, huh them?"
He stammered, his voice pitching higher than intended.
The idea alone seemed nuts—actually putting it into practice?
Ludicrous.
"Louise would probably stab me, and Béatrice… I don't even wanna think about it."
André let out a hearty laugh.
A soft glow reflected off his face from the street lamps.
"Oh, you have a lot to learn, buddy."
He teased, "Let me tell ya, they're all bark."
Alexander frowned.
He remembered very well how dangerous Béatrice was with a sword.
"André," he called skeptically.
André snorted.
"Okay, maybe they're not completely harmless. But like, they won't kill you for hugging them.
I bet you'll be surprised by their reaction."
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
"Really?"
— — —
Louise and Béatrice sat in a café—at a table in the corner of the room.
The interior of the café was lined with dark oak paneling and large glass windows.
Carriages and trams rolled by muffled and illuminated under the street lamps.
The air carried the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and mingled with spices.
Louise stared into her half-empty tea cup, swirling the liquid around with a scowl.
Béatrice sat across from her—legs crossed as she glanced out the window.
"Mother."
Louise called, looking up from her cup.
Béatrice shifted her gaze—remaining silent.
"May I ask a question?"
Béatrice nodded, setting down her cup.
Louise sighed, her hands tightly wrapped around the small glass cup.
"How did you and Uncle André mend your relationship?" She asked softly, "If I remember correctly, he resented you deeply after Father died."
Béatrice paused, her yellow eyes honing in on Louise.
Louise held her gaze.
Béatrice reclined in her seat with a huff. "I did little to mend our relationship, it was simply a fact of André maturing."
She gestured vaguely with her hand.
"He stopped whining, learned to have patience—to listen. I rewarded his behavior with my affection."
Louise's grip loosened slightly, her red eyes searching her mother's face.
"But how? He was so angry then. I remember the… arguments."
Her voice softened as she averted her gaze.
Béatrice picked up her teacup again, taking a slow sip while glancing out the window.
"Persistence." She answered, "It took time, but he always came back—tried again. I'd push him if he were wrong, if not…"
She trailed off.
Louise sighed, swirling her tea again.
"Will Alexander come back? To me."
Béatrice raised a brow, setting her cup down with a clink.
"Do you want him to?"
Louise blushed, gripping her teacup tightly.
But before she could answer the door to the café chimed softly.
Both women looked up, their expressions shifting from quiet contemplation to mild surprise.
André spotted them immediately, his face lighting up with that easy grin.
Alexander trailed behind him, his posture stiff as his eyes darted around the quiet café.
His earlier outburst lingered like a fresh wound, but André's pep talk gave him just enough courage to face this head-on
"Ladies," André greeted them warmly, stealing a quick kiss from Béatrice before taking a seat.
Béatrice said nothing, instead locking eyes with Alexander as he sat across from sndré.
Next to Louise.
Louise glared at him—frozen mid-swirl of her tea. "You have some nerve after the stunt you pulled."
Alexander chuckled nervously as he tapped the table.
André took a sip from Béatrice's teacup, before reaching for the pot in the center of the table.
"Alexander has something he'd like to say."
He winked at Alexander while refilling the cup.
Alexander swallowed hard as both women's gazes bore into him.
André's absurd advice echoed in his head.
Hug them.
It seemed more impossible now that he was here.
Still, he had to start somewhere.
Alexander cleared his throat as he met Béatrice's gaze.
"I… I'm sorry." He began, his voice low and steady.
"What I said earlier was out of line, mostly, I was angry, frustrated, and overwhelmed.
But that's no excuse to use the language I used. You've both been trying to uh…"
The word help died on his tongue.
Thinking back on everything—the last thing Alexander received from Béatrice, was help.
He had a list of grievances so long he could use it to build a bridge back home.
Suddenly a foot tap nudged Alexander out of his thoughts.
It was André.
"Come on, buddy. You got this."
Alexander brightly met his gaze, before sighing and continuing.
"You both attempted to help me, and I threw it back in your faces. I shouldn't have. No matter how angry I was."
Béatrice's expression remained impassive.
"Apologies are cheap, boy. It's your actions that make a difference—you cursed us in front of an audience."
Alexander nodded.
"I did, which is why…"
He trailed off, pushing back his chair.
"…I'm not finished."
He rose from his seat, his heart pounding like a war drum.
Louise's red eyes widened slightly, her teacup forgotten in her grip.
Béatrice remained statue-still, her yellow gaze piercing and unreadable.
Alexander took a deep breath as he rounded the table, André's words echoing in his mind.
As he stood before her—tension radiated like heat from a forge.
Alexander leaned closer before doubt could stop him, wrapping his arms around her tightly.
Béatrice stiffened in the tight embrace, but she didn't pull away. The faint scent of lavender and ink clung to her.
"I'm sorry."
Alexander whispered again.
"For everything, I was wrong to lash out. No matter how justified I felt, that should've been the last resort. I get that now."
For a heartbeat, the café held its breath.
Then, Béatrice's hand slowly snaked up his back. She patted once—then twice.
The delivery was awkward, but the message was deliberate.
"Well, I suppose it's a start."
Alexander pulled back, his face flushed and shoulders light.
He nodded, briefly meeting her gaze before shifting to Louise.
She had already set her teacup down and looked ready to bolt—or bite.
"Don't you dare."
She hissed, her cheeks tinged pink as her eyes flickered with vulnerability.
"Louise," Alexander said softly, stepping closer.
"I'm sorry for not understanding you, for always pushing you away. You've been extremely honest with me, and it's time I respected that."
Louise opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Alexander had already embraced her.
His arms looped around her waist as he pulled her into a firm hug.
His chin rested on her shoulder—she went rigid.
Her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, debating whether to pull him in or push him away.
The café's ambiance faded into a distant hum.
Alexander could feel the rapid thumping of Louise's heart, it mirrored his nervousness.
Alexander thought back to how much he had ignored her.
How he'd cut her off or walk away.
At the time he thought it was just him keeping his peace.
But maybe he was just running from the truth.
"I'm sorry." He whispered in an attempt to calm her down, "I've been terrible to you, I see that now, at least starting to."
Louise's fingers finally twitched, her hands shaking as they grabbed at his back.
Her fingers dug into his robes.
Her voice came out as a vulnerable and frustrated whisper.
"You idiot, don't think this fixes anything."
Alexander nodded. "I understand."
Louise squeezed him tighter. "Stop talking."
Alexander chuckled softly as he kept her close.
The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction.
He pulled back slowly, his golden eyes meeting her red ones.
There was a flush creeping up her neck as she held his gaze.
Alexander smirked—Louise quickly averted her gaze, smoothing out her skirt as if nothing had happened.
"Idiot."
Alexander watched her, his gaze soft.
Were her insults always this adorable?