Rocío sat back on the beautifully crafted couch in Santiago’s office. She swirled the wine glass in her hand before she took a sip. “You’re going to become a great duke, Santi,” she mumbled. “I know it.”

Santiago laughed, “Where did that come from all of the sudden?”

They’d finished dinner quite a while ago and Santiago had excused himself saying he had to fill out paperwork for his trip. Rocío had done her best to convince him to rest, but Santiago was quite stubborn, so she opted to accompany him while he filled out his report and Elena had decided she was off to bed.

Rocío shrugged as she leaned on the armrest of the couch, her head slowly turning to her brother who sat at his desk, plume in hand and his brows furrowed, face lit by the warm glow of the oil lamp to his right. 

“You think about the people, and most importantly, you listen to them,” she plainly stated, taking another sip of the fragrant but bitter red wine. She usually opted for sweet wine, but Santiago preferred bitter ones, so Rocío was forced to choose it as it was the only option available in Santiago’s study. 

Santiago set the plume into the inkwell and leaned on his hand. “Do you really think I’ll be a good duke?”

Rocío smiled as she stood from the couch, walking over to her older brother’s desk. “Santi, I know you will be the best duke this Duchy has ever had. Father’s… been good, yes, but he doesn’t care to build a connection to his people,” she sighed. “But you are out there, meeting the miners, the farmers, the weavers, the artisans, and you are experiencing their struggles, and listening to their concerns in person. They love you, and they’ll continue to love you once you’re the head of this household,” she assured as she rested her hand on his shoulder. 

Santiago offered a melancholic smile. “But why isn’t it ever good enough for him? I do the best I can, I love our people and I want the best for them…but above all, I just want to make him proud...”

Rocío frowned. She wrapped her arms around her brother and they stayed like that for a few minutes. In silence.

“Why am I never worth so much as a glance from them?” He buried his face into Rocío’s shoulder.

“Father and Mother don’t understand, Santi, and sadly, I don’t think they ever will. The important part is that I see you, Elena sees you, and our people see you.” Rocío pulled away, lifting her brother’s face so she could look him in the eyes. “We all support you. No matter what, you can always be certain that I will support you, even if no one else does.”

Santiago managed a bittersweet smile. “I know…and yet,” his smile faded, and his eyes glossed over. “And yet I still crave even a sliver of approval from them.” He sniffled and pulled away from Rocío’s arms, blinking the tears away. “I’m sorry Rosie, I’m just…” he sighed and looked up, so that his eyes would not let a single tear slip, “frustrated…tired.”

Rocío took Santiago’s rough calloused hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Santi,” she breathed, her nose stinging again, and this time her eyes filled with tears. “Mother and Father will always find fault with us. They might never acknowledge your efforts or even thank you for your sacrifices.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “But you don’t need their approval to be great. You’re already on that path, even without their help.” She reached out for his cheek and wiped one of his tears away. 

Santiago leaned against her hand and nodded.

“I’m so happy this duchy has you, Santi, you’re going to be its biggest blessing.”

Santiago laughed away his tears and brought Rocío back into a hug. “Thank you, Rocío,” he mumbled. “Thank you for listening to me.”

Rocío smiled and squeezed her brother a little tighter, patting his back to soothe him. “Elena and I love you.”