{Late Night, Bael Mansion}
—Mauris Zein Bael—
Sitting alone in an empty dark room, he kept his palms squeezed shut. The temperature inside was ice cold, almost freezing. His breath was visible, and his eyelashes were covered by the moisture that had frozen over them.
He sat in silence, in solitude, not having the courage to leave the room. It had been centuries, maybe longer, maybe a millennium. This was the first time he was doing something by himself, something his heart wanted—without the order or permission of his elders.
His first act of rebellion, and the most meaningful.
"Please work," he said softly, opening his hand to reveal a small vial filled with blood. He had been sitting in the cold, afraid the blood would go bad in the heat, and yet too scared to walk out and use it.
He knew it would work. He had seen the blood heal his near-dead son—a sight that had terrified him. Thankfully, it was just the two boys being reckless, not making true enemies out of each other. He couldn't afford his son to fall into Faiser's scornful eye. He was afraid for him.
Thankfully, it seemed the two boys had formed a bond, a friendship. That made him smile—happy that his son wasn't being looked down on, or only called a "friend" because the other was afraid of his strength.
Truth be told, he was happy for his son. Happy the boy didn't have the Power of Destruction. Happy his son rebelled and won. Happy his son chose to live his own life, away from the Bael chains and away from Zekram's control.
Even though his son still stayed with him, followed his commands, he knew the boy was strong enough to leave at any moment. The only reason he stayed was his promise to his mother.
Mauris was happy for him. Truly. And proud—even if he never showed it.
"Did you know it?" he asked, though no one answered. Only silence filled the room. "Or did you not?"
He asked again, even though no one was there.
"Did you hate me for treating you and our son so harshly?"
He already had an answer—one he wanted to believe in.
Yes. Yes, she hated him.
That's what he wanted to believe. And yet, his wife—the woman he cherished most—was different.
She could not hate. Not even her enemies. She was incapable of hatred. And because of that, he hated himself even more.
He had tortured a woman with living conditions worse than animals. He had watched others push her around like a servant and did nothing.
He hated himself for it. For his weakness.
"Don't forgive me," he said, finally looking ahead. "Never forgive me."
Far from him, covered in a spherical barrier of magical energy that kept her warm and comfortable in the dark room, lay his wife. The woman he kept hidden, locked away, where no one could visit her—not his second wife, not the servants, not another Bael, not even Zekram.
He had kept her safe, if that was the only thing he had done.
Biting his lower lip, trembling as he got up, he took small steps toward her. His wife. His beautiful wife. Misla.
"I miss you," he said, reaching close to her, ashamed to even look at her face. "I miss hearing your voice."
He knelt near her bed, moving his cold hand gently over her warm one. They were different. Just like them. Just like how they had always been.
"You should never forgive me," he whispered. "Please, never forgive me."
He remembered everything he had done. Everything that had hurt her. He had never forgotten.
"Our son is grown," he said, still not looking at her face. "He has surpassed everyone's expectations. He has grown stronger than me, stronger than Lord Zekram. The strongest in our family."
He squeezed her warm hands. "He has suffered, he has cried, but he never gave up. He kept your promise, he won the heir rights. He is going to be the future lord. He will be better than all of us."
"So please…" he begged, "smile at us again, just once."
His voice trembled. "I will wake you up now. This has to work."
Slowly, he lifted his head towards her. Still afraid. Still ashamed to look at her face.
In all the years she had been asleep, not once had he dared to look at her. Out of shame, out of guilt — he couldn't bring himself to.
But now, he gathered the courage. For her sake. For Sairaorg's sake. For his own sake, just to hear her laughter once more.
Finally, he looked at her.
The brown hair. The soft skin. The pale glow.
The face just as beautiful as the day he met her.
He stood there for a long while, lost in memories of the past. His trembling hands reached her cheek, touching it softly.
"Misla," he whispered. "I have missed you."
Gathering courage, he raised the vial with his other hand. He removed the lid, waited a minute, preparing his heart.
"Please work."
Carefully, he opened her mouth a little and poured the blood inside, letting it flow down, emptying the vial. Then he waited — with hope and patience.
A second passed. Then another. Then a minute.
He kept staring at her pale face, every second stretching into eternity.
As three minutes passed, his hands tightened around the empty vial. His heart sank. The blood wasn't working.
"Forgive me," he whispered, lowering his head. Refusing to meet her eyes again. "I have failed you once more."
And then, in silence, he sat. Blaming no one, not even Faiser. Only himself, for failing her again.
"I never blamed you once, so there is nothing to forgive."
His ears rang, his blood turned hot, and his eyes widened as he snapped his head up.
There she was. His wife. Staring at him with her soft purple eyes.
"I never hated you," her gentle voice echoed around him. "And I can never hate you."
"M-Misla…"
His wife. The woman he cherished most in the world. His most treasured person.
The woman he had loved the most, and wronged the most… was awake. Looking at him. Talking to him. Smiling at him.
"And… I missed you too, Mauris."
Tears welled in his eyes. For the first time in centuries, he cried. He squeezed her hands tighter.
"I-I missed you so much, oh so much…" he broke down, as she weakly leaned against the bed frame. "I have missed you for so many years."
"I know," she said softly. "I have always been listening — to you, and to our son."
"M-Mother?"
Mauris turned his head. His son stood frozen at the door. Then he rushed forward.
"Mother!" Sairaorg cried, throwing his arms around her while Mauris still held her hands. "Mother!"
He sobbed. For the first time in forever, father and son — men who rarely showed emotion — cried. They cried their hearts out in the embrace of the woman they loved most.
"I have missed you too," Misla whispered with a weak but honest smile. "Mauris, Sairaorg… oh, I have missed you two dearly."
Fifteen years. After fifteen long years, they were reunited.
A reunion none of them would ever forget.
* * *
{Present, Barbatos Manor}
"It took a while," I couldn't help but marvel at the sight. "But it turned out better than anything I was expecting."
It was a grand manor, bigger than a stadium, filled with lush greenery and carrying the sense of a European palace—maybe even a chateau.
There were grand halls, multiple floors, dozens of rooms, and anything and everything I could ever need.
And above all else—
"It's beautiful…" Ingvild said. "Our house. Isn't it?"
"It is," I replied. It was where we would be staying. "The Barbatos Manor."
Ingvild took my hand and dragged me through the place, running around, playing through all the rooms and halls—marveling at the architecture and spending hours exploring.
"I don't even recall the last time I had a place I could call home," she said, leaning on my shoulder. "Before this? Maybe never."
Ingvild's childhood wasn't that great. Always secluded, kept away from others, locked up in her room.
"You can choose any room," I said. "It's our house, so you make the choice."
This cheered her up. "Really?"
"Really."
There was still a lot to do with the place, but for now, this would do.
The priority now was finding the right servants for the house and gathering a decent-sized force.
Every pillar had an army, and I had none. I'd have to go to Falbium for that.
But for now…
"Would you like to check out the Valefar Mansion?"
Sirzechs had put a lot of effort into these buildings, and it was only right to explore them properly.
"Of course!" she said with excitement. "Let's go!"
For now, she had to rely on me to teleport, but there was a way to get her there in the blink of an eye.
The Book of Doors from the Barbatos treasury explained about a branch involving Traverse and Transit. It could create connecting doors—sort of like a tunnel in space—linking two places.
All it required was the creator to stay alive, and it would remain functioning. So, if I built it, it would keep working unless I did something stupid.
"Let's go!" she said excitedly, and I nodded, taking her hand.
I also needed to connect the space of the treasury to a hidden door. In the future, the next generation would need access to the treasures too, not just me. I had to do something about that.
But for now, I Traversed from the Barbatos Manor to the Valefar Mansion.
And boy, was it a sight.
"It's so…" she inhaled sharply, "so pretty!"
This building wasn't as big as the Barbatos Manor, and I had personally requested that.
This was supposed to be our vacation home, with better scenery and a cozier atmosphere. And what we got captured that request perfectly.
The neoclassical architecture with a clear French chateau influence looked amazing with the landscape around it.
Behind the mansion was a dense forest of tall, beautiful, aesthetically pleasing trees. It was the Woodlands, with hills behind them. Beautiful was an understatement.
In the front was a massive, symmetrical French-styled formal garden with three fountains—one at the foreground, one in the mid-ground, and the upper courtyard fountain near the house.
Surrounding it all were sculpted garden beds that completed the beauty.
It was… truly beautiful.
"Faiser," Ingvild called, drawing my attention. As I turned towards her, she hugged me tightly.
"Thank you," she said. "I know I've been saying thank you a lot, but I mean it. Everything you've done for me—I can never thank you enough."
I moved my hand over her head, brushing down her hair.
"I told you, you are my queen."
Her head pressed tightly against my chest, and she stayed there in silence.
"Can I… can I stay like this for a while?"
I nodded. "For as long as you want."
Because I was enjoying this moment too.
*************************************************************************************************************
{A/N:A/N: Got a pat reon named RedLamp01 with 30+ chapters.
I had a sad song on repeat, hence ended up with this chapter.}