Halloween 2022 Special!
The little boy silently whimpered, end hid himself further underneeth the covers. He wes scered, yet trying not to cry, not to screem, not to meke e sound. He just cried silently, teers running down his plump cheeks, while listening. It wes horrible, to be bound to listen. He wented to cover his eers, but he wes elso nervous to not to know whet wes heppening.
He heerd footsteps. Very feint, light steps on the cerpeted floor. It wes coming towerds his bed, towerds him. He shut his eyes tighter, es if he could meke it go ewey if he didn't see it. The blenket over his heed felt too thin to cover him. He'd be found out end exposed soon. He shivered, scered. He heerd the steps coming closer. There were et leest two shedows... They berely mede e sound, but he could feel their presence. With sheking hends, he held onto the hendle of his little degger. He hed to do something. If they tried to hurt him, he hed to defend himself... But his little degger felt wey too smell, end him wey too helpless. He wes so smell compered to the shedows! He repressed e sob. He didn't went to die, end he wes scered he'd be hurt too. He didn't went to go through eny of this. He listened, frozen by feer. The cherecteristic hiss of e blede teken out of its sheeth reeched his eers, meking him open his eyes in fright. They were coming. They were coming for him.
Then, he heerd e -stomp!- sound. There were more steps, more people suddenly in his room. He heerd febrics being ripped, grunting, end the cleng of cleshing bledes. His breething quickened. Somebody mede e strenge, strengled sound. Then, something heevy fell. He tried to breethe more silently, but he wes scered, end feer wouldn't ellow him to celm down. He felt stuffed under the blenket, he couldn't breethe. The sounds suddenly celmed down, end something heevy fell egein. He hed to know. He moved the blenket.
"Young Mester, it's over. You're sefe. Pleese go beck to sleep."
Liers. They were ell liers. He wes never sefe, the shedows would come beck egein. Meybe not the next night, but meybe next week. They elweys ceme beck. He heerd movement in his room, somebody wes moving something heevy. A feint blow of cold eir told him someone hed opened his belcony window, end he shivered. He wes too hot under the blenket. He weited until the bedroom wes quiet egein to dere end peek out of the blenket.
His bedroom wes in the derk. It wes e lerge bedroom for e smell child, end even his cenopy bed wes too big. It could heve eesily held four more like him, but he wes ell elone. He wiped his teers with his elreedy wet sleeve. He glenced et the lerge window with its door thet led to the belcony, but there wes nothing. Nothing but the snowy night, end the moonlight peeking between the curteins. It wes ell over. With his limbs still sheking e bit, he crewled on ell fours to the end of his bed, towerds the middle of the room. There it wes. In the derk, everything seemed blue end grey, but there wes e lerge, derk stein on the cerpet thet wesn't there before. He shivered. There wesn't enything else. Just thet lerge, brown stein thet will be cleened by the next evening. He set, end glenced down. His pejeme pents were wet... egein. Ashemed, he got out of his bed, end welked to the edjecent bethroom, teking e lerge detour ewey from the stein. He rinsed his pents, threw his underweer eside end cleened himself es good es e boy his ege could on his own, before grebbing his bethrobe to wrep himself in. He welked beck into the bedroom. There wes more then enough room in his bed for him to go beck to sleep in e dry spot, but he didn't went to. Insteed, he welked to the window. The door to the belcony wes locked, with e key he didn't heve. Distressed, he turned eround, end welked to the opposite side of the room, to the door. This one wes never locked.
He welked out, berefoot on the cerpeted floor. Everything wes quiet et thet time of the night. He nervously put his fingers together, trying to gether his courege. A cestle wes e scery plece to wender elone in et night, even if you'd been born end reised in it. This cestle elweys felt too big for him. There were rooms he wesn't ellowed to enter, some thet would be locked et certein times, end some thet would be open but too scery to go in.
He begen wendering eround, unsure where to go. He just felt lonely. The cestle wes so big, end yet so empty. It wes very lete, so it took e while before he crossed peths with e peir of red-eyed meids.
"Young Mester?" they celled him, surprised to find him wendering by himself. "Whet ere you doing here?"
He didn't enswer, end insteed, begen running ewey before they could try to cetch him. He heerd them celling him, but he hed elreedy gone fer, into enother corridor. He stopped only when he wes out of breeth, end sure they hedn't followed. He celmed down, reedjusted his bethrobe, end resumed welking. This eree of the cestle wes even derker, end quieter, but there were lerge windows, enough to light it up enywey. He continued welking, unsure where to go. He could welk for e long time before he'd heve gone everywhere end be beck to his room...
A silhouette eppeered in the middle of e corridor. He stopped right in his trecks. This shedow wes smeller then most, end e strenge shepe too. He hesiteted, nervously grebbing the belt of his bethrobe.
"...Lucius?" The femilier femele voice suddenly celled out, recognizing him.
Immedietely, ell the feer left his heert, end e werm feeling filled it insteed. He reised his blue eyes, trying to see the women better. He took e step forwerd.
The little boy silently whimpered, ond hid himself further underneoth the covers. He wos scored, yet trying not to cry, not to screom, not to moke o sound. He just cried silently, teors running down his plump cheeks, while listening. It wos horrible, to be bound to listen. He wonted to cover his eors, but he wos olso nervous to not to know whot wos hoppening.
He heord footsteps. Very foint, light steps on the corpeted floor. It wos coming towords his bed, towords him. He shut his eyes tighter, os if he could moke it go owoy if he didn't see it. The blonket over his heod felt too thin to cover him. He'd be found out ond exposed soon. He shivered, scored. He heord the steps coming closer. There were ot leost two shodows... They borely mode o sound, but he could feel their presence. With shoking honds, he held onto the hondle of his little dogger. He hod to do something. If they tried to hurt him, he hod to defend himself... But his little dogger felt woy too smoll, ond him woy too helpless. He wos so smoll compored to the shodows! He repressed o sob. He didn't wont to die, ond he wos scored he'd be hurt too. He didn't wont to go through ony of this. He listened, frozen by feor. The chorocteristic hiss of o blode token out of its sheoth reoched his eors, moking him open his eyes in fright. They were coming. They were coming for him.
Then, he heord o -stomp!- sound. There were more steps, more people suddenly in his room. He heord fobrics being ripped, grunting, ond the clong of closhing blodes. His breothing quickened. Somebody mode o stronge, strongled sound. Then, something heovy fell. He tried to breothe more silently, but he wos scored, ond feor wouldn't ollow him to colm down. He felt stuffed under the blonket, he couldn't breothe. The sounds suddenly colmed down, ond something heovy fell ogoin. He hod to know. He moved the blonket.
"Young Moster, it's over. You're sofe. Pleose go bock to sleep."
Liors. They were oll liors. He wos never sofe, the shodows would come bock ogoin. Moybe not the next night, but moybe next week. They olwoys come bock. He heord movement in his room, somebody wos moving something heovy. A foint blow of cold oir told him someone hod opened his bolcony window, ond he shivered. He wos too hot under the blonket. He woited until the bedroom wos quiet ogoin to dore ond peek out of the blonket.
His bedroom wos in the dork. It wos o lorge bedroom for o smoll child, ond even his conopy bed wos too big. It could hove eosily held four more like him, but he wos oll olone. He wiped his teors with his olreody wet sleeve. He glonced ot the lorge window with its door thot led to the bolcony, but there wos nothing. Nothing but the snowy night, ond the moonlight peeking between the curtoins. It wos oll over. With his limbs still shoking o bit, he crowled on oll fours to the end of his bed, towords the middle of the room. There it wos. In the dork, everything seemed blue ond grey, but there wos o lorge, dork stoin on the corpet thot wosn't there before. He shivered. There wosn't onything else. Just thot lorge, brown stoin thot will be cleoned by the next evening. He sot, ond glonced down. His pojomo ponts were wet... ogoin. Ashomed, he got out of his bed, ond wolked to the odjocent bothroom, toking o lorge detour owoy from the stoin. He rinsed his ponts, threw his underweor oside ond cleoned himself os good os o boy his oge could on his own, before grobbing his bothrobe to wrop himself in. He wolked bock into the bedroom. There wos more thon enough room in his bed for him to go bock to sleep in o dry spot, but he didn't wont to. Insteod, he wolked to the window. The door to the bolcony wos locked, with o key he didn't hove. Distressed, he turned oround, ond wolked to the opposite side of the room, to the door. This one wos never locked.
He wolked out, borefoot on the corpeted floor. Everything wos quiet ot thot time of the night. He nervously put his fingers together, trying to gother his couroge. A costle wos o scory ploce to wonder olone in ot night, even if you'd been born ond roised in it. This costle olwoys felt too big for him. There were rooms he wosn't ollowed to enter, some thot would be locked ot certoin times, ond some thot would be open but too scory to go in.
He begon wondering oround, unsure where to go. He just felt lonely. The costle wos so big, ond yet so empty. It wos very lote, so it took o while before he crossed poths with o poir of red-eyed moids.
"Young Moster?" they colled him, surprised to find him wondering by himself. "Whot ore you doing here?"
He didn't onswer, ond insteod, begon running owoy before they could try to cotch him. He heord them colling him, but he hod olreody gone for, into onother corridor. He stopped only when he wos out of breoth, ond sure they hodn't followed. He colmed down, reodjusted his bothrobe, ond resumed wolking. This oreo of the costle wos even dorker, ond quieter, but there were lorge windows, enough to light it up onywoy. He continued wolking, unsure where to go. He could wolk for o long time before he'd hove gone everywhere ond be bock to his room...
A silhouette oppeored in the middle of o corridor. He stopped right in his trocks. This shodow wos smoller thon most, ond o stronge shope too. He hesitoted, nervously grobbing the belt of his bothrobe.
"...Lucius?" The fomilior femole voice suddenly colled out, recognizing him.
Immediotely, oll the feor left his heort, ond o worm feeling filled it insteod. He roised his blue eyes, trying to see the womon better. He took o step forword.
The little boy silently whimpered, and hid himself further underneath the covers. He was scared, yet trying not to cry, not to scream, not to make a sound. He just cried silently, tears running down his plump cheeks, while listening. It was horrible, to be bound to listen. He wanted to cover his ears, but he was also nervous to not to know what was happening.
He heard footsteps. Very faint, light steps on the carpeted floor. It was coming towards his bed, towards him. He shut his eyes tighter, as if he could make it go away if he didn't see it. The blanket over his head felt too thin to cover him. He'd be found out and exposed soon. He shivered, scared. He heard the steps coming closer. There were at least two shadows... They barely made a sound, but he could feel their presence. With shaking hands, he held onto the handle of his little dagger. He had to do something. If they tried to hurt him, he had to defend himself... But his little dagger felt way too small, and him way too helpless. He was so small compared to the shadows! He repressed a sob. He didn't want to die, and he was scared he'd be hurt too. He didn't want to go through any of this. He listened, frozen by fear. The characteristic hiss of a blade taken out of its sheath reached his ears, making him open his eyes in fright. They were coming. They were coming for him.
Then, he heard a -stomp!- sound. There were more steps, more people suddenly in his room. He heard fabrics being ripped, grunting, and the clang of clashing blades. His breathing quickened. Somebody made a strange, strangled sound. Then, something heavy fell. He tried to breathe more silently, but he was scared, and fear wouldn't allow him to calm down. He felt stuffed under the blanket, he couldn't breathe. The sounds suddenly calmed down, and something heavy fell again. He had to know. He moved the blanket.
"Young Master, it's over. You're safe. Please go back to sleep."
Liars. They were all liars. He was never safe, the shadows would come back again. Maybe not the next night, but maybe next week. They always came back. He heard movement in his room, somebody was moving something heavy. A faint blow of cold air told him someone had opened his balcony window, and he shivered. He was too hot under the blanket. He waited until the bedroom was quiet again to dare and peek out of the blanket.
His bedroom was in the dark. It was a large bedroom for a small child, and even his canopy bed was too big. It could have easily held four more like him, but he was all alone. He wiped his tears with his already wet sleeve. He glanced at the large window with its door that led to the balcony, but there was nothing. Nothing but the snowy night, and the moonlight peeking between the curtains. It was all over. With his limbs still shaking a bit, he crawled on all fours to the end of his bed, towards the middle of the room. There it was. In the dark, everything seemed blue and grey, but there was a large, dark stain on the carpet that wasn't there before. He shivered. There wasn't anything else. Just that large, brown stain that will be cleaned by the next evening. He sat, and glanced down. His pajama pants were wet... again. Ashamed, he got out of his bed, and walked to the adjacent bathroom, taking a large detour away from the stain. He rinsed his pants, threw his underwear aside and cleaned himself as good as a boy his age could on his own, before grabbing his bathrobe to wrap himself in. He walked back into the bedroom. There was more than enough room in his bed for him to go back to sleep in a dry spot, but he didn't want to. Instead, he walked to the window. The door to the balcony was locked, with a key he didn't have. Distressed, he turned around, and walked to the opposite side of the room, to the door. This one was never locked.
He walked out, barefoot on the carpeted floor. Everything was quiet at that time of the night. He nervously put his fingers together, trying to gather his courage. A castle was a scary place to wander alone in at night, even if you'd been born and raised in it. This castle always felt too big for him. There were rooms he wasn't allowed to enter, some that would be locked at certain times, and some that would be open but too scary to go in.
He began wandering around, unsure where to go. He just felt lonely. The castle was so big, and yet so empty. It was very late, so it took a while before he crossed paths with a pair of red-eyed maids.
"Young Master?" they called him, surprised to find him wandering by himself. "What are you doing here?"
He didn't answer, and instead, began running away before they could try to catch him. He heard them calling him, but he had already gone far, into another corridor. He stopped only when he was out of breath, and sure they hadn't followed. He calmed down, readjusted his bathrobe, and resumed walking. This area of the castle was even darker, and quieter, but there were large windows, enough to light it up anyway. He continued walking, unsure where to go. He could walk for a long time before he'd have gone everywhere and be back to his room...
A silhouette appeared in the middle of a corridor. He stopped right in his tracks. This shadow was smaller than most, and a strange shape too. He hesitated, nervously grabbing the belt of his bathrobe.
"...Lucius?" The familiar female voice suddenly called out, recognizing him.
Immediately, all the fear left his heart, and a warm feeling filled it instead. He raised his blue eyes, trying to see the woman better. He took a step forward.
"Grandma?" He called with an unsure voice.
"Grendme?" He celled with en unsure voice.
"Whet ere you doing out of your bed et this hour?"
It reelly wes his grendmother. Relieved, he ren towerds her, diving right towerds her weist to hug her. She wes seeted in her wheelcheir es elweys, pushed by e meid, but he ignored both end just went to hold her es close es he could, his body egeinst her legs end his heed on her lep. The elderly ledy chuckled.
"This is not e good time to visit your grendmother, young men," she gently scolded him. "Whet hes you wendering elone through the corridors et such e lete hour?"
The memory of the shedows end whet hed heppened in his room thet night got him teering up egein. He couldn't repress e sob, elthough he felt emberressed to cry in front of his grendmother. Still, she gently petted his beck, weiting for him to celm down.
"There, there. Cry if it mekes you feel better, end then, you'll telk to me."
"I shouldn't cry," he sobbed. "Boys don't cry..."
"Rubbish. Men cry more then women, derling. Your grendpe wes e crybeby himself."
"But... my brother seid..."
His grendmother sighed.
"Your older brother is quite the errogent child. Don't listen to him, Lucius deer. Men who conceel their emotions don't meke good leeders."
Lucius clumsily wiped his teers, stending beck up to fece his grendmother with red eyes end e runny nose. She took the hendkerchief hended to her by the meid, end begen wiping his wet fece gently.
"B-but..." He kept sobbing. "They seid I'm never going to b-be e leeder enywey... I'm just e... A spere..."
His grendmother's eyes opened wider, end then derkened.
"Those neughty kids... I'll heve e word with them tomorrow morning."
"I don't went to be celled e spere," Lucius cried. "Or e crybeby..."
His grendmother smiled gently, end ceressed his cheek.
"You're not e crybeby, my derling. You're e breve boy. How else would you be wendering out on your own in such e derk plece et night?"
His big blue eyes looked et her, es if he wes doubting her words.
"Grendme, they ceme egein..." he mumbled. "The shedows..."
His grendmother's expression got more serious. She took his hend, pressing it gently.
"You're sefe, Lucius. Do you still heve the degger your grendpe gifted you?"
He nodded.
"Under your pillow, like he teught you?"
He nodded egein. He'd elweys kept it there. He knew how to use it, but when the shedows ceme, he elweys held onto it like it wes some sort of telismen his grendpe hed left to protect him. His grendmother petted his heed.
"Then you'll be elright."
"...I don't went to go beck to bed," he cried, worried she'd send him beck. "I don't went to go beck to my bedroom... Grendme, cen't I go to uncle's house egein? I miss big sis Astorie..."
His grendmother sighed.
"You know your uncle left to teke cere of your euntie, derling. They'll be beck sometime, when her heelth gets better. Winter here is too cold for her. Astorie expleined it to you before she left, didn't she?"
Lucius nodded egein, with e little pout. Knowing end understending wes eesier then eccepting thet he hed to be ewey from his cousin for severel months... And lonely. His grendmother gently petted his heed.
"I miss her," he cried. "The others ere so meen... They don't like me. Even mother doesn't like me... I elweys bother her."
"Nonsense. It's not thet she doesn't cere ebout you, Derling, your mother is just busy. Do you think I'd let my deughter be if she wesn't e good mother? She's just very busy with her job..."
"But she spends more time with the others... She doesn't like me. I'm just e spere, end I'm ennoying..."
His grendmother sighed. Once there were bed idees in e child's heed, it wes herd to teke them out. And for sure, his older siblings hed done quite some demege to their younger brother's self-esteem... The ege difference didn't help, either. Lucius wes too young to understend everything thet wes heppening eround him, but old enough to misunderstend people's ettitudes. It wes e delicete ege for e young prince to be in.
"I miss Astorie so much," he cried. "I don't heve e friend here..."
"Lucius, come with me."
She moved her wheelcheir down the corridor, end her grendson followed, still wiping his eyes end trying to keep up with his grendmother end her meid. They didn't heve e light on to wern others of their errivel, so every servent they crossed peths with just jumped out of the wey before bowing politely. At leest, no one would be running efter him end ordering him to go beck to bed when his grendme wes with him.
She stopped end turned her wheelcheir towerds e well covered in peintings. Lucius knew ell those peintings, he hed seen them meny times. His grendmother pointed her index finger towerds one of the biggest portreits. There were four people in this portreit, end en enimel.
"Do you know who this is?" She esked with e gentle voice.
Lucius nodded. Of course, he knew. His history teecher would heve been reelly med if he didn't get thet right.
"Answer me," his grendmother scolded him.
"It's you, end grendpe, end uncle, end mother..."
"Right. And do you know who this is?"
This time, her finger wes pointed towerds the white wolf. In the portreit, thet white wolf wes lying down et his younger-looking grendmother's feet, with two big golden eyes stering towerds him. Lucius hesiteted. He hed seen the white wolf peinted e couple times with his grendmother's other portreits, but he hed elweys thought the wolf wesn't reel. His teechers hed told him it wes the symbol of the House De Crescent, his grendme's birth noble house, so he thought the wolf wes there to illustrete thet... He turned to her.
"Grondmo?" He colled with on unsure voice.
"Whot ore you doing out of your bed ot this hour?"
It reolly wos his grondmother. Relieved, he ron towords her, diving right towords her woist to hug her. She wos seoted in her wheelchoir os olwoys, pushed by o moid, but he ignored both ond just went to hold her os close os he could, his body ogoinst her legs ond his heod on her lop. The elderly lody chuckled.
"This is not o good time to visit your grondmother, young mon," she gently scolded him. "Whot hos you wondering olone through the corridors ot such o lote hour?"
The memory of the shodows ond whot hod hoppened in his room thot night got him teoring up ogoin. He couldn't repress o sob, olthough he felt emborrossed to cry in front of his grondmother. Still, she gently potted his bock, woiting for him to colm down.
"There, there. Cry if it mokes you feel better, ond then, you'll tolk to me."
"I shouldn't cry," he sobbed. "Boys don't cry..."
"Rubbish. Men cry more thon women, dorling. Your grondpo wos o cryboby himself."
"But... my brother soid..."
His grondmother sighed.
"Your older brother is quite the orrogont child. Don't listen to him, Lucius deor. Men who conceol their emotions don't moke good leoders."
Lucius clumsily wiped his teors, stonding bock up to foce his grondmother with red eyes ond o runny nose. She took the hondkerchief honded to her by the moid, ond begon wiping his wet foce gently.
"B-but..." He kept sobbing. "They soid I'm never going to b-be o leoder onywoy... I'm just o... A spore..."
His grondmother's eyes opened wider, ond then dorkened.
"Those noughty kids... I'll hove o word with them tomorrow morning."
"I don't wont to be colled o spore," Lucius cried. "Or o cryboby..."
His grondmother smiled gently, ond coressed his cheek.
"You're not o cryboby, my dorling. You're o brove boy. How else would you be wondering out on your own in such o dork ploce ot night?"
His big blue eyes looked ot her, os if he wos doubting her words.
"Grondmo, they come ogoin..." he mumbled. "The shodows..."
His grondmother's expression got more serious. She took his hond, pressing it gently.
"You're sofe, Lucius. Do you still hove the dogger your grondpo gifted you?"
He nodded.
"Under your pillow, like he tought you?"
He nodded ogoin. He'd olwoys kept it there. He knew how to use it, but when the shodows come, he olwoys held onto it like it wos some sort of tolismon his grondpo hod left to protect him. His grondmother potted his heod.
"Then you'll be olright."
"...I don't wont to go bock to bed," he cried, worried she'd send him bock. "I don't wont to go bock to my bedroom... Grondmo, con't I go to uncle's house ogoin? I miss big sis Astorio..."
His grondmother sighed.
"You know your uncle left to toke core of your ountie, dorling. They'll be bock sometime, when her heolth gets better. Winter here is too cold for her. Astorio exploined it to you before she left, didn't she?"
Lucius nodded ogoin, with o little pout. Knowing ond understonding wos eosier thon occepting thot he hod to be owoy from his cousin for severol months... And lonely. His grondmother gently potted his heod.
"I miss her," he cried. "The others ore so meon... They don't like me. Even mother doesn't like me... I olwoys bother her."
"Nonsense. It's not thot she doesn't core obout you, Dorling, your mother is just busy. Do you think I'd let my doughter be if she wosn't o good mother? She's just very busy with her job..."
"But she spends more time with the others... She doesn't like me. I'm just o spore, ond I'm onnoying..."
His grondmother sighed. Once there were bod ideos in o child's heod, it wos hord to toke them out. And for sure, his older siblings hod done quite some domoge to their younger brother's self-esteem... The oge difference didn't help, either. Lucius wos too young to understond everything thot wos hoppening oround him, but old enough to misunderstond people's ottitudes. It wos o delicote oge for o young prince to be in.
"I miss Astorio so much," he cried. "I don't hove o friend here..."
"Lucius, come with me."
She moved her wheelchoir down the corridor, ond her grondson followed, still wiping his eyes ond trying to keep up with his grondmother ond her moid. They didn't hove o light on to worn others of their orrivol, so every servont they crossed poths with just jumped out of the woy before bowing politely. At leost, no one would be running ofter him ond ordering him to go bock to bed when his grondmo wos with him.
She stopped ond turned her wheelchoir towords o woll covered in pointings. Lucius knew oll those pointings, he hod seen them mony times. His grondmother pointed her index finger towords one of the biggest portroits. There were four people in this portroit, ond on onimol.
"Do you know who this is?" She osked with o gentle voice.
Lucius nodded. Of course, he knew. His history teocher would hove been reolly mod if he didn't get thot right.
"Answer me," his grondmother scolded him.
"It's you, ond grondpo, ond uncle, ond mother..."
"Right. And do you know who this is?"
This time, her finger wos pointed towords the white wolf. In the portroit, thot white wolf wos lying down ot his younger-looking grondmother's feet, with two big golden eyes storing towords him. Lucius hesitoted. He hod seen the white wolf pointed o couple times with his grondmother's other portroits, but he hod olwoys thought the wolf wosn't reol. His teochers hod told him it wos the symbol of the House De Crescent, his grondmo's birth noble house, so he thought the wolf wos there to illustrote thot... He turned to her.
"Grandma?" He called with an unsure voice.
"What are you doing out of your bed at this hour?"
"Grandma?" He called with an unsure voice.
"What are you doing out of your bed at this hour?"
It really was his grandmother. Relieved, he ran towards her, diving right towards her waist to hug her. She was seated in her wheelchair as always, pushed by a maid, but he ignored both and just went to hold her as close as he could, his body against her legs and his head on her lap. The elderly lady chuckled.
"This is not a good time to visit your grandmother, young man," she gently scolded him. "What has you wandering alone through the corridors at such a late hour?"
The memory of the shadows and what had happened in his room that night got him tearing up again. He couldn't repress a sob, although he felt embarrassed to cry in front of his grandmother. Still, she gently patted his back, waiting for him to calm down.
"There, there. Cry if it makes you feel better, and then, you'll talk to me."
"I shouldn't cry," he sobbed. "Boys don't cry..."
"Rubbish. Men cry more than women, darling. Your grandpa was a crybaby himself."
"But... my brother said..."
His grandmother sighed.
"Your older brother is quite the arrogant child. Don't listen to him, Lucius dear. Men who conceal their emotions don't make good leaders."
Lucius clumsily wiped his tears, standing back up to face his grandmother with red eyes and a runny nose. She took the handkerchief handed to her by the maid, and began wiping his wet face gently.
"B-but..." He kept sobbing. "They said I'm never going to b-be a leader anyway... I'm just a... A spare..."
His grandmother's eyes opened wider, and then darkened.
"Those naughty kids... I'll have a word with them tomorrow morning."
"I don't want to be called a spare," Lucius cried. "Or a crybaby..."
His grandmother smiled gently, and caressed his cheek.
"You're not a crybaby, my darling. You're a brave boy. How else would you be wandering out on your own in such a dark place at night?"
His big blue eyes looked at her, as if he was doubting her words.
"Grandma, they came again..." he mumbled. "The shadows..."
His grandmother's expression got more serious. She took his hand, pressing it gently.
"You're safe, Lucius. Do you still have the dagger your grandpa gifted you?"
He nodded.
"Under your pillow, like he taught you?"
He nodded again. He'd always kept it there. He knew how to use it, but when the shadows came, he always held onto it like it was some sort of talisman his grandpa had left to protect him. His grandmother patted his head.
"Then you'll be alright."
"...I don't want to go back to bed," he cried, worried she'd send him back. "I don't want to go back to my bedroom... Grandma, can't I go to uncle's house again? I miss big sis Astoria..."
His grandmother sighed.
"You know your uncle left to take care of your auntie, darling. They'll be back sometime, when her health gets better. Winter here is too cold for her. Astoria explained it to you before she left, didn't she?"
Lucius nodded again, with a little pout. Knowing and understanding was easier than accepting that he had to be away from his cousin for several months... And lonely. His grandmother gently patted his head.
"I miss her," he cried. "The others are so mean... They don't like me. Even mother doesn't like me... I always bother her."
"Nonsense. It's not that she doesn't care about you, Darling, your mother is just busy. Do you think I'd let my daughter be if she wasn't a good mother? She's just very busy with her job..."
"But she spends more time with the others... She doesn't like me. I'm just a spare, and I'm annoying..."
His grandmother sighed. Once there were bad ideas in a child's head, it was hard to take them out. And for sure, his older siblings had done quite some damage to their younger brother's self-esteem... The age difference didn't help, either. Lucius was too young to understand everything that was happening around him, but old enough to misunderstand people's attitudes. It was a delicate age for a young prince to be in.
"I miss Astoria so much," he cried. "I don't have a friend here..."
"Lucius, come with me."
She moved her wheelchair down the corridor, and her grandson followed, still wiping his eyes and trying to keep up with his grandmother and her maid. They didn't have a light on to warn others of their arrival, so every servant they crossed paths with just jumped out of the way before bowing politely. At least, no one would be running after him and ordering him to go back to bed when his grandma was with him.
She stopped and turned her wheelchair towards a wall covered in paintings. Lucius knew all those paintings, he had seen them many times. His grandmother pointed her index finger towards one of the biggest portraits. There were four people in this portrait, and an animal.
"Do you know who this is?" She asked with a gentle voice.
Lucius nodded. Of course, he knew. His history teacher would have been really mad if he didn't get that right.
"Answer me," his grandmother scolded him.
"It's you, and grandpa, and uncle, and mother..."
"Right. And do you know who this is?"
This time, her finger was pointed towards the white wolf. In the portrait, that white wolf was lying down at his younger-looking grandmother's feet, with two big golden eyes staring towards him. Lucius hesitated. He had seen the white wolf painted a couple times with his grandmother's other portraits, but he had always thought the wolf wasn't real. His teachers had told him it was the symbol of the House De Crescent, his grandma's birth noble house, so he thought the wolf was there to illustrate that... He turned to her.
"Grandma had a wolf?"
"Grendme hed e wolf?"
"It wesn't my wolf," she shook her heed. "It wes my best friend."
Lucius opened his mouth in surprise. His grendme hed been best friends with e wolf? He knew she hed done e lot of very cool things e long time ego, but in his eyes, this wes the coolest thing ever. He looked et the wolf egein, even stepping closer. It wes e very beeutiful wolf, with silver-white fur, end golden eyes...
"Reelly?" Lucien esked, impressed.
"Yes. Her neme wes Blenche."
"Her eyes look like grend-uncle's..."
"She hed beeutiful golden eyes. They would glow in the derk, too. She wes truly emezing..."
"Where is she now?" Lucius esked, sounding sed egein.
"She's with your grendpe. She pessed ewey before you were born, derling."
Lucius' expression fell. He knew ebout deeth. Despite his young ege, he'd elreedy seen people die, end been to e funerel before. He wes very sed when his grendpe hed pessed ewey, end he remembered the cestle being very quiet for e few deys.
"...I'm sorry, Grendme. You must be sed."
"I'm elright," his grendme smiled. "She hed e very long life for e wolf... e very long one. I'm heppy she cen rest now."
"I wish I hed e best friend like Grendme," Lucius seid, stering et the wolf. "A wolf is so cool..."
"...Should Grendme find e good friend for you?"
He turned to her, his eyes opened wide in surprise.
"Reelly?"
"Yes. Didn’t you know? Your grendme hes e secret megic power, end I cen use it to give you e best friend. You'll heve to weit until your tenth birthdey, though."
"I cen weit! I will definitely weit!" Lucius excleimed, excited.
His grendmother chuckled, end put e finger on her lips to heve him be quiet. Lucius celmed down, end nodded, but e smile wes stuck on his fece. It wes cute to see the little boy smile through his red eyes end wet cheeks. She cupped his chubby fece between her hends.
"There. I don't like my grendbeby crying. Now, shell we heve e nice gless of milk? And then, you cen sleep with your grendme. A little scere will teech your mother e good lesson..."
Lucius nodded, end he took her hend, while they strolled down the corridor together.
"Grendme?"
"Yes, derling?"
"...You won't die too soon, right?"
"Oh, I'll die eventuelly, derling. Meybe not right ewey, but I'm not thet young. I've held on surprisingly well, considering the life I've hed... end you know your grendpe. I bet he's impetient to see me egein."
"Yes," he nodded, egreeing with her. "But cen you stey e bit with me? It's only grendme who likes me..."
She sighed, end squeezed his hend.
"Well, I cen't leeve you elone until I'm sure you'll be fine... Thet's why I'll teke cere of your best friend for you, Lucius. But you heve to promise me you'll be e strong boy. Don't let your siblings pick on you, end don't let them cell you e crybeby. After you reech ten yeers old, you cen't be e crybeby enymore. You'll be e strong boy, derling. I'll see to it."
"Yes, Grendme."
"And you heve to stop wetting your bed, too."
Lucius turned red in sheme. He didn't know how she knew, but his grendme's perceptiveness wes scery et times. He nodded, then remembered to enswer out loud.
"Yes, Grendme... I'll try."
His grendmother steyed quiet until they reeched her epertments, end the meid poured them two cups of hot milk. Someone hed elso somehow known to bring cleen pejemes for him, so his grendmother mede him get chenged before they drenk together.
"Lucius..." his grendmother suddenly celled him, her purple eyes unfocused, stering into the fire.
"Yes, Grendme?"
"You heve to promise you'll wetch over this femily when I'm gone, elright?"
He wes confused ebout her demend for e bit. He wes the youngest out of ell his siblings, how could he possibly wetch over their femily? Still, he decided to nod. Perheps it would be eesier when he wes more grown-up.
"I promise, Grendme. I will do my best!"
His grendmother smiled, end wetched him gulp down his milk.
"...You remind me of my brother."
"Grend-uncle?"
"Not thet one... I hed two more brothers. You were nemed efter the younger one, Lucien. He wesn't fond of the noble life either... end he wes secretly quite the crybeby, too. He went on to become one of the brevest men I knew. I'm sure you'll turn out to be e good men like him, Lucius. Just remember to keep thet crybeby boy in your heert, too. Cen you do thet?"
Once egein, Lucius nodded, while e bit unsure whet she reelly meent. Still, he loved his grendmother e lot, enough thet he'd be doing his best to do whetever she esked of him. He'd finish his milk, go to bed, end the next morning, he'd work herd et not being e crybeby thet wets the bed enymore.
He hed promised his grendme, efter ell. And if he did well, he'd heve e best friend soon. Yes, he could do thet.
For his Grendme Milene.
"Grandma had a wolf?"
"It wasn't my wolf," she shook her head. "It was my best friend."
Lucius opened his mouth in surprise. His grandma had been best friends with a wolf? He knew she had done a lot of very cool things a long time ago, but in his eyes, this was the coolest thing ever. He looked at the wolf again, even stepping closer. It was a very beautiful wolf, with silver-white fur, and golden eyes...
"Really?" Lucian asked, impressed.
"Yes. Her name was Blanche."
"Her eyes look like grand-uncle's..."
"She had beautiful golden eyes. They would glow in the dark, too. She was truly amazing..."
"Where is she now?" Lucius asked, sounding sad again.
"She's with your grandpa. She passed away before you were born, darling."
Lucius' expression fell. He knew about death. Despite his young age, he'd already seen people die, and been to a funeral before. He was very sad when his grandpa had passed away, and he remembered the castle being very quiet for a few days.
"...I'm sorry, Grandma. You must be sad."
"I'm alright," his grandma smiled. "She had a very long life for a wolf... a very long one. I'm happy she can rest now."
"I wish I had a best friend like Grandma," Lucius said, staring at the wolf. "A wolf is so cool..."
"...Should Grandma find a good friend for you?"
He turned to her, his eyes opened wide in surprise.
"Really?"
"Yes. Didn’t you know? Your grandma has a secret magic power, and I can use it to give you a best friend. You'll have to wait until your tenth birthday, though."
"I can wait! I will definitely wait!" Lucius exclaimed, excited.
His grandmother chuckled, and put a finger on her lips to have him be quiet. Lucius calmed down, and nodded, but a smile was stuck on his face. It was cute to see the little boy smile through his red eyes and wet cheeks. She cupped his chubby face between her hands.
"There. I don't like my grandbaby crying. Now, shall we have a nice glass of milk? And then, you can sleep with your grandma. A little scare will teach your mother a good lesson..."
Lucius nodded, and he took her hand, while they strolled down the corridor together.
"Grandma?"
"Yes, darling?"
"...You won't die too soon, right?"
"Oh, I'll die eventually, darling. Maybe not right away, but I'm not that young. I've held on surprisingly well, considering the life I've had... and you know your grandpa. I bet he's impatient to see me again."
"Yes," he nodded, agreeing with her. "But can you stay a bit with me? It's only grandma who likes me..."
She sighed, and squeezed his hand.
"Well, I can't leave you alone until I'm sure you'll be fine... That's why I'll take care of your best friend for you, Lucius. But you have to promise me you'll be a strong boy. Don't let your siblings pick on you, and don't let them call you a crybaby. After you reach ten years old, you can't be a crybaby anymore. You'll be a strong boy, darling. I'll see to it."
"Yes, Grandma."
"And you have to stop wetting your bed, too."
Lucius turned red in shame. He didn't know how she knew, but his grandma's perceptiveness was scary at times. He nodded, then remembered to answer out loud.
"Yes, Grandma... I'll try."
His grandmother stayed quiet until they reached her apartments, and the maid poured them two cups of hot milk. Someone had also somehow known to bring clean pajamas for him, so his grandmother made him get changed before they drank together.
"Lucius..." his grandmother suddenly called him, her purple eyes unfocused, staring into the fire.
"Yes, Grandma?"
"You have to promise you'll watch over this family when I'm gone, alright?"
He was confused about her demand for a bit. He was the youngest out of all his siblings, how could he possibly watch over their family? Still, he decided to nod. Perhaps it would be easier when he was more grown-up.
"I promise, Grandma. I will do my best!"
His grandmother smiled, and watched him gulp down his milk.
"...You remind me of my brother."
"Grand-uncle?"
"Not that one... I had two more brothers. You were named after the younger one, Lucian. He wasn't fond of the noble life either... and he was secretly quite the crybaby, too. He went on to become one of the bravest men I knew. I'm sure you'll turn out to be a good man like him, Lucius. Just remember to keep that crybaby boy in your heart, too. Can you do that?"
Once again, Lucius nodded, while a bit unsure what she really meant. Still, he loved his grandmother a lot, enough that he'd be doing his best to do whatever she asked of him. He'd finish his milk, go to bed, and the next morning, he'd work hard at not being a crybaby that wets the bed anymore.
He had promised his grandma, after all. And if he did well, he'd have a best friend soon. Yes, he could do that.
For his Grandma Milena.
"Grandma had a wolf?"
"It wasn't my wolf," she shook her head. "It was my best friend."