"My lady… is it truly the right choice to send the Precious heirloom of your house, rather than a protective amulet? Especially when it's already been seven months since the time it was supposed to be given?"
"... And when you barely have anything left from your old household?"
The middle-aged maid spoke cautiously, carefully. She was treading on a sensitive subject, one she knew her lady disliked discussing, but she couldn't stay silent. She still wanted to offer her advice, because the young prince… he was, in many ways, the last hope of the Solvaire household. The last descendant of a noble line that had been completely wiped out.
He was the only one who might one day revive the name of House Solvaire. And of course, she wanted the best for him.
But the young woman…
No… was she truly a woman yet? Or still just a girl? That was debatable.
But, a girl who looked barely eighteen.
A girl who had been forced into motherhood far too early, thanks to the lustful whims of a powerful old man.
A girl whose noble household had been shattered, reduced to ruin, by that very same man.
No longer a daughter of a noble house. Not yet a mother with power of her own.
Just a girl; caged, and voiceless. That was who she truly was.
And yet, even a caged bird can stir.
And Thalia, who seemed to have already made her resolve, was determined to do just that.
She stood before the loyal maid who had remained by her side ever since her days in the Solvaire household, holding the heirloom tightly in her hands.
Gone was the frailty from that day she gave birth.
Gone was the hollow stillness that once dulled her eyes.
Now, her eyes were cold and sharp.
And in those hazel depths… there was light again.
Not the unsteady flicker of someone merely surviving… but the steady flame of someone preparing to act.
She had lived through shame. Through pain. Through helplessness.
… And that's enough.
So, raising her chin slightly and directing her gaze at her loyal maid. There was no longer any sign of that detached expression she wore while staring at the "supposedly" precious heirloom.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips… not a warm one, but a ridiculing one.
… But who was she ridiculing?
"Wasn't that heirloom… an amulet, a long time ago?" she said in a low voice.
In the vast, luxurious room, one far too large for just two people, a girl and a middle-aged woman stood alone. And yet, the silence stretched long after the words were spoken.
"Well, it was. But…" the maid began, her gaze fixed on the smile her lady now wore.
A smile that resembled nothing of the radiant one she used to wear…
Back when she was still the jewel of House Solvaire.
Back when she was surrounded by those who loved her.
Back when she still had something.
And so… the maid faltered.
She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud.
Couldn't state the obvious truth:
That once, it may have been a precious amulet.
But now, it was little more than a stone.
They were supposed to send an amulet.
A protective one.
Meant to shield him, back when he was born.
But back then, they had sent nothing.
And now… after all this time.
Her young lady was bringing up the topic again…
Not just mentioning it.
But intending to send something.
The maid had believed her lady was finally ready.
Finally prepared to perform her role.
As the mother of that child.
But the choice she made.
Of sending this stone…
Remained a puzzle the maid couldn't solve.
"He should already be thankful that I sent him something at all, considering how talentless he is."
Suddenly, Thalia said it.
Interrupting the maid's thoughts.
Her tone was cold, filled with disappointment.
And the maid couldn't hold her mouth shut anymore.
"But… according to the reports from the servants who go there to deliver the daily necessities, he seems to be growing especially well."
She hesitated.
Then added softly.
"He's even begun speaking already."
"So even if his future as a mage can't be guaranteed."
"He will at least not bring shame to you."
Her words were meant to comfort.
To defend.
But Thalia's expression darkened.
Her displeasure barely hidden.
She didn't want a son who excelled in areas she had no interest in.
No… areas the kingdom itself had no interest in.
She had wanted a son with strength.
Magic.
Power.
Instead, what had she been given?
A son who didn't even carry the traits of the royal family.
Neither in appearance…
Nor in bloodline.
Him holding that filthy blood in his veins…
Was already something she considered disgusting.
But she had been prepared to embrace that nonetheless.
If only he were talented.
But… really, what did she get?
… If she weren't being watched.
Monitored.
Observed by people under the king's command.
She would've already been held responsible.
Accused of infidelity.
But it was clear.
His filthy hands were still the only ones that had touched her.
Thalia shuddered at the memory of that day.
That night.
But she steeled her nerves.
Steadied her gaze. Quickly.
She can't waver.
She can't show weakness.
And she needs to get her revenge.
Thalia hated everything.
The fact that she was defiled by that filth of an old man.
That he played with her body once.
Knocked her up.
Then never once showed his face again.
Seemingly already content…
With his small whim of destroying her house.
Just to get her body for a one-time use.
She hated everything about this kingdom.
And even more.
She hated the world that moved on.
As if nothing had happened.
She wanted revenge.
Retribution.
But if her son—
Her own flesh—
The only one who could have possibly given her that desire—
If even he is unable to give her that…
Then does her life still hold any meaning?
She had questioned that.
Many times already.
But if her son can't do that,
She just needs to be the one.
She just needs to take matters into her own hands.
She just needs to rely on herself.
And yet…
She still sent the stone.
That old heirloom.
Passed down from head to head of the Solvaire household.
Even though it had become little more than a ceremonial relic.
She sent it.
Because part of her still hoped.
Still wished…
That perhaps, hidden deep within it.
Was something that could change his fate.
Even if it was just a legend.
Even if the stories passed down by her ancestors.
Were nothing more than the desperate pride of the dead.
….…
Author's note:
Maybe people shouldn't try something they are not used to?
Because this chapter, was too meaningful to me, I tried to make more special… but how it turned out, I don't know.
Hopefully, it's bearable?