A year drifted by, each day marking Kenshin's seclusion and Isabella's growing discontent. The once jubilant mother had veiled her son's eyes not just from the world but also from her heart, unable to reconcile his perceived weakness with her ambitions. Her resentment towards Kenshin blossomed silently, hidden behind smiles that grew brittle with each passing day.
Meanwhile, in the bustling halls of the Fitzroy mansion, the news of Enya's birth brought a mixture of relief and unease. Eleanor, a pillar of grace amid tumultuous emotions, cradled her daughter with a tenderness that spoke of unconditional love. Yet, beneath her outward composure, she harbored concerns. Enya, born without a blessing and destined to face the challenges of inheritance as a girl, posed a dilemma for Eleanor's aspirations to secure her position as Dominic's primary wife.
Isabella's attempts at veiled mockery found little purchase in Eleanor's serene demeanor. "Ah, Isabella, laughter is a rare gift. Use it wisely," Eleanor quipped, her words carrying a weight that echoed through the corridors of power within the household. "Your son's absence from the light speaks louder than any boastful claim."
Isabella felt momentarily disarmed by Eleanor's response but quickly regained her composure, replying sharply, "Wow, Eleanor, a daughter and furthermore without a blessing from any god. Surely you'll maintain your position as Dominic's first wife with that baby."
The sting of Eleanor's words fueled Isabella's resolve, a resolve that masked a growing desperation. She clung to the hope that time and the promised ceremony would somehow rewrite Kenshin's fate, casting him in a light that would restore her standing.
Within Kenshin's secluded chamber, the air was heavy with unspoken truths. Sebastian, the faithful servant, was both a companion and a witness to Kenshin's world. The boy's laughter, though pure, carried an innocence that shielded him from the harsh realities brewing beyond his sanctuary.
One quiet evening, as the shadows lengthened within the mansion, Isabella stole a moment to visit Kenshin. Her forced smile faltered briefly as she embraced him, the facade of maternal affection slipping for an instant before she recomposed herself. "My dear Kenshin," she murmured, her voice a fragile mask of care, "soon, the world will see your brilliance. We must be patient a little longer."
Kenshin, ever trusting, nestled closer to her, his small hand seeking hers in the darkness. "Mother, will I see the stars soon?" he asked innocently, unaware of the storm brewing in Isabella's heart.
Isabella's gaze faltered, a flicker of guilt passing through her eyes before she masked it with determination. "Yes, my dear. Soon," she replied, her words laden with a weight she couldn't bear to articulate.
As the days marched on towards Helena's impending delivery and the anticipated ceremony, the tension within the Fitzroy household crackled like hidden lightning, promising revelations that would reshape destinies and lay bare the true depths of ambition and love within its walls. And amidst it all, Kenshin waited, his heart brimming with hope and a child's unerring belief in the promises whispered in the dark.