Elliott's eyes softened. He could feel Aiden's inquisitive gaze lingering on him, even though the other man said nothing. With a subtle glance, Elliott gave him an expression that clearly said, Wait—I'll explain later.
He turned to the girl with a gentle smile. "Aria, dear. Do forgive me—I got caught up in stately matters. How have you been?"
The girl—Aria—pouted, clearly not accepting the apology. Her lower lip jutted out, almost trembling with the effort of her indignation. But she answered anyway, in a drawl that clung to petulance.
"I've been fineee..."
Her voice was sweet but tinged with something off-kilter—disconnected. She swayed on her feet like a restless child, eyes flickering with erratic emotions.
"And how are you liking the new physicians?" Elliott asked, folding his hands in his lap with deliberate calm. "The ones from the North."
"They're good..." she replied slowly, tapping her cheek in a thinking gesture with the tip of one finger. "But they smell like... cold."
Elliott raised an amused eyebrow, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. "Cold? Well—they are Northerners, dear."
Aiden blinked, taken aback by the odd phrasing. Elliott didn't seem fazed at all.
"Are you focusing on their treatment?" Elliott asked, his voice still calm and even. "They have quite the success rate."
Aria frowned slightly, like someone forced to swallow a bitter pill. She didn't seem pleased by the reminder. But she nodded slowly, albeit reluctantly.
"I guess..." she trailed off, pouting again, her cheeks puffing up like a squirrel's. "Why do I need treatment, anyway?" she huffed, her voice rising with childish frustration. "I'm fine the way I am! I can just stay like this—here. I like staying here."
The words were coated in panic that cracked beneath the surface.
Elliott reached out and gently took her hand, not squeezing, just offering the lightest touch.
"I know you do, Aria," he said softly. His tone was warm, patient, like someone trying to calm a frightened bird. "And I'm not invalidating that, or asking you to leave. You can stay as long as you like—forever too, if that's what you want."
Aria grumbled again, her brows furrowing deeper, a petulant frown tugging at her lips. There was something deeply unsettling in the way she moved—like someone who'd never been allowed to grow into their skin.
Aiden watched silently. There was something jarring about seeing a grown woman speak and act with such childlike intensity. Her mannerisms weren't feigned or whimsical. They were fractured—too real to be performance.
"But that's what they say!" she suddenly snapped. "That I have to cooperate with the treatment, fix my head, become normal—and then I can go out! I don't want to leave!"
She stamped her foot. Her eyes shimmered with tears that hadn't yet fallen. Her voice cracked. Her next words were quieter, her throat tightening.
"...Please don't make me leave."
Elliott sighed, barely audible, murmuring "Oh, dear" under his breath. The expression on his face shifted—wry, resigned, full of empathy. Clearly, their scheduled appointment would have to be delayed.
He rubbed her palm gently, grounding her. He didn't embrace her, even though in this case it would have been entirely platonic—likely comforting. But he knew. Knew better than to cross a boundary she hadn't drawn herself.
"That's not what they mean, Aria," he said softly. "You don't need to 'fix' your head. There's nothing wrong with you. You're not abnormal. You're normal. Everyone's normal just... looks a little different. Yours just happens to be different from the majority. That's all."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"You're just... developing late. Which is what the physicians are there to help with. They want you to be alright, so that if you ever want to go outside, you can. No one will force you. It will always be your choice. You have my word."
Aria sniffled, her tears retreating slightly. But her mind had caught on an earlier phrase.
"But... what if I don't want that? I like it here."
Elliott nodded, completely unbothered. He wasn't rushed. He wasn't impatient. He gave her his full attention.
"I'm sure you do. But this"—he gestured gently around them—"this is just the palace, dear. A part of the palace, at that. You haven't seen the outside world. It holds so many amazing things. Things I wouldn't dream of depriving you of. Especially not after so much has already been stolen from you."
Aria opened her mouth, looking ready to argue again, but Elliott raised a finger to his own lips, a quiet, gentle gesture for silence.
"But," he added softly, "as I said—no one will pressure you. The choice will be yours. The physicians are only there to help you make an informed decision. Not to force you. My intention... is to give you a choice, not make you do anything."
The girl bit her lip, still uncertain—but she seemed soothed, if only for now.
"...Really? No one will make me leave?" she asked one final time, just in case.
"No one," Elliott said again, his voice unwavering.
Aria nodded, wiping her glassy eyes with small, clenched fists. She'd been on the verge of a full breakdown only moments ago—but Elliott's gentle reassurances seemed to have brought her back.
"And if anyone does?" she added fiercely, "I—I'll tell them! I'll tell you! You're the emperor! Everyone listens to you!"
A small, amused smile tugged at Elliott's lips. He nodded. "Of course."
Aiden, meanwhile, watched the entire scene unfold in silence. Something about the girl's phrasing caught in his mind: everyone listens to you. Not everyone fears you, or everyone has to obey you. Just... listens. Out of their own will. As if that truth was so evident even to a girl in such a fractured mental state.
Kindness was truly... a beautiful thing, wasn't it?
After bidding an affectionate farewell and making Elliott promise to visit her again soon, Aria skipped off with the same awkward grace of a child. Her steps were uneven, almost dreamy, but she seemed content. Elliott and Aiden were alone again.
Aiden was still staring.
Elliott could feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face, even though he didn't turn.
"She was...?" Aiden finally asked as they resumed their path, his voice low.
"Aria," Elliott replied quietly. At first, it seemed like he wished to leave it at that, but Aiden's gaze lingered, clearly asking for more.
Elliott sighed, and continued in a tone that made his discomfort clear.
"One of my late father's concubines. Admitted to the palace as a child. She's never known a world outside these walls. The... treatment she underwent stunted her growth. Her mind is stuck in a period of childhood. One she never really got."
Hence the childlike demeanor.
Aiden nodded, slowly piecing it together. She had to be around his age—maybe a few years older. The late emperor had died when Aiden was eight.
"You invited physicians from the North specifically for her?" he asked, bewildered.
"The least I can do," Elliott replied, almost too simply.
Aiden's thoughts turned to the other women they'd passed.
"And them?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"All members of the previous harem."
"You kept them here?" Aiden asked, frowning.
"Kept them?" Elliott echoed, and this time, he shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his lips.
"No."
Aiden didn't reply, but Elliott could feel his questioning gaze anyway. He went on, voice softer now.
"I freed them. They were allowed to do whatever they wished. They didn't have to live the life of widows—especially for a man more than half of them never even saw in person. But... where could they go?"
That one sentence carried the weight of the truth. It settled over Aiden's shoulders like a heavy cloak. It was true- women were admitted into the harem not only by the emperor- rarely so, even- but by the council, by nobles. Concubines as young as aria- who would have been around 11 or 12 years old when admitted- were 'gifted' as a gesture of goodwill, even- set to become fully fledged concubines when they reach of age, so they are 'pure' and 'the only man they know'. It was not a glorified practise, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. Elliott's father, for all the crimes he did, wasn't a man overly interested in the pleasures of flesh, and hence more than half the women here hadn't even been visited by him even once, much less have relations with him.
And now, these women—discarded by tradition—had been reduced to ghosts. As if their worth had vanished the moment their so-called 'husband' passed away. Society deemed them shameful, unsightly. Unwelcome.
And when a new emperor rose, tradition demanded that the Southern Palace be vacated—for new concubines, new symbols of power. But where could these women go?
Nowhere. No family would take them back. No town would welcome them. They would have been left to rot quietly in remote corners of the capital—waiting to die.
But Elliott... had done the only thing he could.
He'd let them stay.
He'd opened the gates and told them they were free. Some had taken that chance—given new names, support, the ability to begin anew. But those who chose to stay... were allowed to do so. With comfort. With dignity. And without shame.
And all of it... he had done quietly. Without ever once seeking recognition.
Aiden said nothing. There was nothing to say. But his gaze lingered, fixed on the man beside him.
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