The Past

As much as Mrs. Gardet hated to eavesdrop, it was impossible to ignore the gossip being whispered throughout the halls of the D'Amboise estate. She got an unsolicited earful of it now, a swell of chatter filling the air from a swarm of maids huddled at the end of the corridor. 

“What is His Holiness thinking?” one tutted, her face contorted in disgust. “Bringing in a half-blood Corrupted...it’s…”

“Deplorable,” a second finished. “Poor young master Rosaire. That child is a picture of sanctity. Isn’t His Holiness worried that raising his son alongside such a vile boy will stain the young master--”

The maids were cut off as Mrs.Gardet abruptly walked through them, making a clear point of interrupting the gossip. Eyes narrowing, she loudly cleared her throat. “Ladies, if you are this eager to voice your opinions on His Holiness's decisions, then perhaps I should relay your concerns to him directly.”

The maids instantly froze, their faces going ashen.  

“Ah, so now you have nothing to say?” Mrs. Gardet observed, crossing her arms. “I thought so.” Her gaze raked over the swarm of girls, causing them to cower. “From this point forward, I’d prefer it if you held your tongue. Call me old fashioned, but I find slandering a newly orphaned child rather distasteful.” And with that, she brushed past them.

The maids instantly scattered, a chorus of meek apologies echoing after Mrs. Gardet as she continued to make her way down the hall. The hint of a smirk tugged at her lips but she quickly stifled it, resuming a serious expression as her gaze finally fell to her young master’s door.

Letting out a low exhale, she stepped up to it, lightly rapping against the dark mahogany in a single brisk knock. A small voice came from the other side, permitting entry, and Mrs. Gardet pushed the door open. 

The child sat on his knees, hands pressed together with his elbows resting on the edge of his bed. Moonlight spilled in from the window above, bathing little Rosaire in a pale glow. Ivory curls fell in gentle waves around his angelic face, his eyes shut tight as he continued to pray. Sitting so still like this, he could easily be mistaken for a porcelain doll. 

Despite his nanny’s entry, Rosaire dutifully continued his prayer. Every night he sat in silence for exactly three hours to pray, never once complaining or stopping even a second early. Rosaire really was the perfect child. He only spoke when spoken to; he studied the Holy Principles endlessly; and she highly doubted he’d ever broken a rule in his eleven years of life. 

Despite this, Mrs. Gardet often found herself worried that amidst such perfection something was wrong with the boy. Was it natural for a child to never play or get into trouble? To never make mistakes?

Like the others, she certainly had doubts about His Holiness bringing a half Corrupted child into their household. But...perhaps having another child around would do her beloved young master some good. 

Mrs. Gardet spoke softly, as if by doing so she wouldn’t rupture the serene tranquility of the room. “Young master, your father has sent me to fetch you. There is an important matter he’d like to discuss.” 

At last, Rosaire lifted his head, dark lashes fluttering as he slowly opened his eyes. He didn’t say a word--though that was hardly surprising--as he rose to his feet. 

Mrs. Gardet fought the urge to fondly pat his head as he moved to join her. His Holiness had made it clear when she was placed in charge of his upbringing that any outward signs of affection, physical or otherwise, were strictly forbidden. 

The pair  made their way through the mansion in silence, twisting and turning through its labyrinth of corridors until they finally entered into the parlor. 

It was a large, circular room, lit by the gentle crackle of flames. Painted bluebirds mid-flight stretched across the length of the ceiling, their vibrant color complimenting the forget-me-not blue of the silk curtains and plush velvet furniture. 

Standing at the room's center was His Holiness, his expression unchanging as his gaze fell to his son. The child certainly took after his late mother, his soft, cherubic features nowhere to be found on his father’s pointed face. The only true similarity was their eyes, both a starling shade of blue, reminiscent of a perfect sky. 

“Rosaire, I’m glad you’re here,” His Holiness murmured as their matching gazes met. “There is someone I’d like you to meet.”

As he spoke, a tiny head poked out from behind his legs. 

Just the sight of him caused Mrs. Gardet’s heart to twist, both in shock and pity. The boy was skin and bones, his cheeks sunken and his skin sickly pale. Despite this, his gaze was bright and lively, the flames from the fireplace dancing in his eyes. He had a face like a fox, his features sharp and angular with a mop of red hair sticking up from around his head. On almost all accounts, he looked like a harmless child, the only sign of his tainted blood recognizable in his scarlet eyes and the ink-black horns sticking up from his hair. 

Rosaire looked upon the boy with the same cold indifference he showed everyone. He didn’t question his presence, simply waiting patiently for his father to elaborate further. 

“This is the son of a dear friend of mine, ” His Holiness explained, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Mrs. Gardet was shocked by the expression. Her brows drew together, attempting to process the sudden rush of warmth overwhelming his gaze. She’d never seen His Holiness look that way at anyone—not even his own son. 

“He lost his parents during the Great Banishment,” His Holiness continued softly. “I feel, in his father’s memory, it is my duty to take him in...” his gaze caught on the boy’s horns, the smile fading as quickly as it had appeared, “regardless of his mother’s blood. I expect you to receive him warmly and make him feel welcome within our household. Understood?” 

Rosaire offered a single nod, his expression unreadable. “Yes, Father.” He hesitantly extended a delicate hand toward the boy. “My name is Rosaire--” 

“Wiley!” the boy blurted, catching hold of Rosaire’s small hand in his own. He shook it with such enthusiasm that, for a moment, Rosaire’s austere expression slipped, revealing the flustered child beneath. After a few tries, Rosaire managed to yank his hand free, his face glassing over with its usual aloofness. 

Mrs. Gardet felt her chest tighten with worry, her previous hope for a friendship between the two quickly beginning to crumble. Seeing them together made it painfully obvious they were complete opposites. Could they really get along or had His Holiness just unleashed a whirlwind of disaster into the D'Amboise estate?