A single candle flickered in the darkness, casting shadows on the walls of the Duke's chamber. Restless, he tossed and turned in his bed, the silken sheets tangling around him like a serpent. With a sigh, he rose from the bed and poured himself another drink. The amber liquid swirled in his glass, reflecting the wavering flame.
"Damn this sleeplessness," he muttered to himself. As he took a sip, his thoughts wandered back to his conversation with Friedrich earlier that day. His loyal friend had been insistent on an outing, one that would include his son and a wet nurse he had not yet met.
"An outing would do you well, Your Grace," Friedrich's voice echoed in his mind. "You need to spend time with your son, to create a bond."
He couldn't even begin to imagine what the outing would entail. Would he be walking up front, listening as his son and the nurse frolicked with Friedrich? At least he would now know what they talked about after having observed them for some time. Or perhaps he would be forced to trail closely behind, a mere observer of the intimacy shared between them. They would likely converse about the child, a topic that he knew little about other than what his servants had reported. He felt an overwhelming sense of isolation and exclusion at the mere thought of it.
The Duke placed his glass on the table, eyes drifting across the room to the pictures of his wife adorning the walls. Each frame seemed to hold her gaze, as though she were watching him, but she wasn't there. A familiar ache settled in his chest, a deep pain that had been gnawing at him ever since he lost his parents as a teenager.
"Family..." he whispered, the word heavy on his tongue. He longed for the love and stability he had missed while growing up – to see his child flourish and experience all the joys life had to offer. But fate had dealt him a cruel hand, snatching away his dreams and leaving him with a gaping void in his heart. Yet, despite the bleakness that threatened to consume him, he clung to his responsibilities – and now, his son.
As he stared into the candle's flame, the Duke's resolve began to steel. He didn't feel ready for the upcoming outing with Friedrich, the wet nurse, and his baby son. He downed another swig, grasping for a false boldness to strengthen his wavering determination, but it didn't. Despite the knowledge that alcohol was a harmful companion, he couldn't resist its tempting allure during sleepless nights or moments of despair. It had become a habitual ritual, one that offered temporary relief from his troubles.Yet more often than not, it dragged him into an abyss of hopelessness.
The rain pounded against the window as if trying to break through. The Duke stood in front of it, his thoughts wandering back to the day he had returned to the estate a year ago due to an injury during the war. In that moment, he was filled with hope and excitement at the thought of seeing his wife again after the long, brutal separation.
"Darned..." he whispered to himself, recalling how their reunion had sparked a new life within their marriage – a child they had unknowingly created together after years of fruitless attempts. But fate had been cruel, and when the time came for him to return to the battlefield, he left behind a pregnant wife without realizing what they had created.
"Your Grace, a letter has arrived for you," Friedrich had said one fateful day on the battlefield months later, handing him a worn envelope.
"Thank you, Friedrich," he had answered, opening the letter to find news from home – news that his wife was expecting their first child. He could still remember how the weight of his responsibilities and the horrors of war seemed to lift from his shoulders, replaced by an overwhelming joy.
That joy, however, was short-lived. As the war continued, he found himself clinging to the thought of his unborn son to endure the hardships and sacrifices that came with each passing day. But he couldn't be there for his wife during her pregnancy, and that knowledge gnawed at him, filling him with regret and sorrow.
Finally, when the war had ended and the Duke returned to his estate, he was greeted with the sight of his wife, pale and weak, her once-vibrant beauty reduced to a mere shadow. And though she fought bravely, the consequences of giving birth ultimately took her life.
"Esther...my love," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. "I wish I could have been there for you."
As the storm outside raged on, the Duke's heart ached with the loss of his beloved wife and the knowledge that he had not been there to support her. But within that pain lay a determination to be present for their son – to ensure that the child they brought into this world would never have to face such challenges alone.
"Fatherhood..." he thought, clenching his fists. "I may not have been ready for it, but I will do my best."
His resolve strengthened by the memories of his wife and the love they shared, the Duke knew that he must forge a new path forward – one where his son would always come first, no matter the obstacles they faced together.
Squaring his shoulders, the Duke made a silent vow. "I will be there for my son, even if I am not ready yet. I owe him that much."
With that determination, the Duke extinguished the candle and crawled back into bed, allowing the patter of rain to lull him to an uneasy sleep.