The fire crackled softly in Lord Lavelle's private study, casting flickering shadows across the walls lined with books and documents. He sat at his desk, surrounded by papers detailing the preparations for the upcoming gathering. His fingers absently traced the edge of a letter as his thoughts wandered.
The weight of responsibility never seems to lessen, he thought, his gaze drifting to the portrait on the wall—a painting of his late wife, her eyes bright with life. If anything, it grows heavier with each passing day.
The political climate had grown increasingly dangerous. Tensions had risen, and the upcoming gathering would either secure House Lavelle's future or threaten everything they had built. Lord Lavelle's jaw tightened as a familiar sense of unease settled over him.
…..
He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift back to the day he had first met her. It had been at a diplomatic event, a gathering of nobles from across the region. She had stood out, not just for her beauty but for the sharp wit and intelligence she had displayed in every conversation. She was the daughter of a powerful noble family, with expectations placed upon her that rivaled his own.
He had been captivated from the start.
Their courtship had not been without challenges. There were political barriers, family expectations, and rivalries that could have easily driven them apart. Yet, despite all that, their love had grown stronger. She had brought light and warmth into his life, offering counsel that shaped him into a better leader.
Her death had left a void that could never be filled.
If you were still here, he thought, glancing at the portrait, things might be different. You always had a way of seeing through the fog that surrounded us.
After her passing, Lilia had taken on much of her mother's protective nature, especially toward Eryk. It was a role that Lord Lavelle hadn't fully appreciated until recently.
…..
His thoughts turned to Eryk's illness—an affliction that had come upon them without warning. One day, Eryk had seemed perfectly healthy, and the next, he was bedridden with a fever that no healer could cure. The memory of those nights spent by his son's side, watching helplessly as the illness took its toll, still haunted him.
And then, just as mysteriously as it had begun, the illness faded, leaving Eryk changed.
There was a new focus in his son's eyes, a guardedness that hadn't been there before. He was more secretive, more driven, and there were times when Lord Lavelle felt as though he was speaking to a stranger. It wasn't just the illness that had changed Eryk; it was something deeper, something that he couldn't quite understand.
He had his suspicions, of course. There were whispers of foul play, of dark magic or poison, though no evidence had ever surfaced to confirm such theories. Still, the doubt lingered, and it gnawed at him.
What really happened to you, Eryk? he wondered. And why do I feel as though you're hiding something from me?
…..
The documents on his desk were a reminder of the gathering that was soon to take place. It was an opportunity to strengthen alliances, but it was also a time when enemies would seek to exploit any sign of weakness. Lord Lavelle had noticed the subtle signs—odd behavior from certain advisors, hushed conversations that ceased when he entered the room, and unexplained absences.
There are those who would see us fall, he thought grimly. And some of them may be closer than we realize.
He considered the roles his children had taken in recent times. Lilia's protective instincts were something he understood well, for they mirrored his own. She was relentless in her efforts to shield the family from harm, often taking matters into her own hands. But Eryk was different. His actions were harder to predict, and there was a part of Lord Lavelle that wondered just how much his son truly knew.
…..
As he sat in the quiet of his study, Lord Lavelle found himself questioning whether he had made the right choices over the years. He had done everything in his power to protect his family, but some decisions weighed heavily on him. There were moments when he doubted whether he had done enough, or if some of his actions had inadvertently brought danger closer to their doorstep.
The thought of losing another loved one was unbearable. He had already lost his wife, and the idea of losing one of his children to a threat he couldn't even see was more than he could bear. No matter the cost, he would see to it that House Lavelle survived.
…..
With a deep breath, Lord Lavelle stood and moved to the window, gazing out at the sprawling estate. The preparations for the gathering were nearly complete, with guards posted in strategic locations and trusted advisors overseeing every detail. There would be no room for error.
This must go right, he thought, clenching his hands behind his back. We cannot afford to fail.
There was hope, of course—a belief that they could turn this gathering into a victory. But there was also fear, lurking in the back of his mind, whispering that no amount of preparation would be enough.
He turned away from the window and glanced once more at his wife's portrait. "I will not let our children fall," he murmured, as if speaking to her. "No matter what it takes."
The fire continued to crackle softly in the background as he returned to his desk, his resolve firm and unyielding. The gathering would be a test, not just for him, but for all of House Lavelle. And he would be ready.