Nico insisted everyone go outside instead of the “couchy room”—which Enid found out was the outer drawing room of the nursery—since there was much more sunlight. She thinks he just wants to run around and get his clothes dirty, and she thinks it’s both cute and distressing that he wants to have a excuse for something normal.

She quietly cleaned Anastasia’s face, covered in mushed pear and a lot of her own dribble, and said, “I think your sister would like to go too, wouldn’t you, little Miss?”

The piercing sound she made confirmed that it was a yes—so Enid and Ines ushered the two into their respective rooms to get dressed properly. Enid dressed Nico in a tan long sleeve tunic with a small fur on his shoulders because, “it’s early and still chilly out.”.

When she slipped on his shoes, she brushed a few curly from his face and smiled.

“There, don’t you look cute?” Nico pouted.

“I’m not cute,” Enid laughed at his words.

“Oh? But I think Nico is the cutest thing in here. And you look just like the Duke.”

Well, if he were much younger and adorable. And not big and older, and forceful—yes, Nico was much cuter than the Duke.

“Like Papa?” he said, giddy.

She nodded.

“Just like your father.”

𓆙_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The garden behind the nursery was small but lovely. Enid had a feeling the late duchess designed it with the children in mind…Helios doesn’t seem like the type to know about child behind thinking about how cute Anastasia is. Ivy-covered stone walls, low hedges trimmed into whimsical shapes, and a spindly willow tree that hung over a round stone bench. The smell of sweetgrass and blooming roses filled her senses as she slowly pushed the carriage with one hand and held Nico’s hand with the other. 

It seems well-maintained in her absence.

She called that in all intents and purposes, Helios loved his wife Lucia very much. In the novel, it was described that despite it being much later in his adult life,she was his first love—and they had two beautiful children together.

It seemed like a rule that there could not be a birth mother alive was ridiculous—although she was glad that the author didn’t vilify Lucia so that Nico was left with happy memories of his mother. Perhaps that was one of the few things the creator of this world did right.

Enid sat cross-legged on a wool blanket laid beneath the willow, her apron smudged with the staining of blackberries and her sleeves rolled to the elbow. Anastasia lay on her back beside her, gurgling and kicking at the sky. Nico, crouched nearby, carefully inspected a beetle on a leaf as if it might tell him the secrets of the universe.

“Do you think beetles have mothers?” Enid was holding Anastasia as she chewed on blackberries when Nico asked her this. She laid Anastasia down on her back again before she considered his question. “I assume so, yes.”

“That’s good,” the boy said with a sigh. “It means even bugs have someone who loves them.”

Enid smiled and leaned in to brush dirt away from her face. “You’re very kind, Nico.”

He blushed, but shrugged. “You’re kind, too—you don’t yell like Ines when I get dirt on my shoes.”

“I will if you track on the blanket.” Se said dryly. “I will not be scrubbing the stains out if comes to it.”

Their conversation is cut short when they heard the sudden, delighted squeal of Anastasia—they both looked down to see the baby had rolled over onto her belly and was attempting to crawl. Though it was mostly by flailing and grunting like a determined piglet.

Enid laughed and scooped her up before she could actually get far.

“You’re not going anywhere, little miss.”

The baby pressed her sticky, blackberry-covered finger on Enid’s cheek and babbled nonsense.

“Absolutely not. Your father would really have my head if you crawled somewhere that I can’t see.”

Nico sat down beside them, laying his head against Enid’s shoulder.

“Enid?”

“Hmmm.”

“When Mama was still here, we went to the garden a lot.”

She felt him and Anastasia settle as the warmth from the sun. She stroked his cheek. She didn’t have parents when came to this world and honestly, other than her work life and the novel, she hadn’t remembered details about her personal life. But she could understand a bit what’s like missing one’s mother.

“Do you miss her?” Enid asked.

Nico pouted, then snuggled in closer.

“I do.”

“What do you miss?”

Nico looked up at her, then looked at a passing butterfly.

“I miss Mama’s hugs…but yours mind of hers…but different.”

“Oh?” she said. “What’s different?”

“You smell like bread.”

𓆙_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ 

From the upper balcony, Helios Rhadros watched.

He leaned one forearm against the stone railing, his tunic open at the chest, his sleeves rolled up. The daylight shone off the silver in her and the out of the scars on his arms. 

Below, Enid sat peacefully with the children.

This was probably the first time he saw her calm and content.

He supposes it didn’t help that every interest they’re ended with one of them having some sort of bruise.

She held Anastasia carefully, her arms cradling the small, dozing child. Nico sat beside her while they talked, though they couldn’t make out their conversation. But it seems like his son was happy, in a way he hadn’t seen since Lucia passed.

He needs to take some time off to see him and Anastasia again.

Enid glanced up, squinting into the sun as if she felt his gaze.

Helios didn’t move—he simply watched.

The three of them looked like a family—a small, cozy one. He wondered if he would ruin that intimate atmosphere.

The thought came unprovoked. Annoyingly soft—and wrong.

But it sat in his chest, nonetheless.

In the six months since his wife passed, like he had done before meeting her, he hadn’t thought of anyone the way he did with her. Perhaps it was because it was the first time he’d felt those, but she sat in his mind like a gradual, sickly sweet build.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t grown up without the affections of other but this feeling was different. She was different.

“Helios Rhadros, would you like to marry me?”

It was odd, really.

A woman much younger than him, pursing him and then even proposing. It was the moment he thought that she could be the one he’d spend the rest of his life with; no need to think about anyone else.

The day he found out he died, he’d planned to home and apologize—that the next time the emperor called him, he’d disobey empire he’s fought for most of his life be at home with her, their son, and their daughter they were going to have.

When they met again, she was in her casket.

He couldn’t hold her hand while he was dying. Couldn’t tell her it would be ok. He regretted so many things, things he could’ve done differently.

For a while after her death, he felt a pull towards his daughter, who looked just like her mother. He felt as if he didn’t pay extra attention, she’d disappear from him too.

He focused on her so much that a slap from a maid had to show him he neglected his son, Lucia;s son. The only things he knew how to do right were fight and throw his authority around.

Helios glanced at Enid, who seemed to be wrapping up things and handing back to the nursery with the child.

Another disruptive, intrusive thought showed up in his mind.

He wondered what I child that looked like her would look like.