Fianna Redmond sat by the bay window in her room, her blue eyes tracing the swirling patterns of snow outside.
The Redmond estate was alive with activity as servants prepared for the arrival of a guest.
Her family—though loving and protective—had always been busy with the responsibilities of their noble station.
Marquis Ren Redmond and Lady Rosalind Redmond adored their only daughter, yet their duties often left her to occupy herself in solitude.
At eight years old, Fianna was a quiet, introspective girl who found solace in books and the music.
Despite the affection of her parents, Fianna struggled to connect with others.
The noble children she occasionally met at events either envied her position or found her reserved nature difficult to understand.
She had grown used to the isolation, but sometimes, a deep ache in her chest reminded her of how much she longed for a true friend.
.
The announcement of the Arkwrights leaving their son, Caspian, in the care of the Redmonds for two weeks came as a surprise.
The Arkwrights were attending a royal banquet and could not bring their youngest child along.
It was an unspoken truth that Caspian, with his unusual white hair and quiet demeanor, was considered an outlier in their prestigious family.
Fianna's mother explained the arrangement over breakfast, Fianna felt a flicker of curiosity.
"Why would they leave him here? Don't they have other places to send him?" she had asked.
"Because they trust us," her father replied with a gentle smile. "And perhaps they believe a change of scenery will do him good."
Her mother added softly, "He's only a child, Fianna, just like you. Perhaps you could keep him company while he's here and you are also engaged."
Fianna didn't respond.
She wasn't sure what to expect but doubted she and this boy would have much in common.
.
On the day of Caspian's arrival, the estate was covered in a fresh blanket of snow.
Fianna watched from her room as a car pulled up to the grand entrance.
Two figures stepped out: a tall footman and a small boy wrapped in an oversized coat.
Even from her vantage point, Fianna noticed the boy's hesitant steps and the way he clutched his belongings tightly.
Curiosity piqued, she made her way downstairs to the main hall.
When Caspian entered, she saw him more clearly: white hair falling in soft waves, pale skin, and stormy crimson red eyes.
He was small for his age, his frame almost delicate.
The butler introduced him formally.
"Young Master Caspian Arkwright has arrived, my lady."
Fianna nodded, studying him with a mix of caution and intrigue.
Caspian's gaze met hers briefly before dropping to the floor.
"Hello,"
He mumbled a polite greeting, his voice so soft.
"You must be tired," Fianna said, her tone neutral.
Caspian nodded again but said nothing.
A maid stepped forward to guide him, and Fianna watched as he followed, his movements hesitant.
.
The first few days passed in near silence. Fianna and Caspian barely interacted.
He spent most of his time in the guest room or wandering the gardens, always avoiding the more populated areas of the estate.
Fianna observed him from a distance, unsure how to approach him.
She noticed little things: the way he flinched at sudden movements, how he avoided direct eye contact, and the way he clung to a small book he carried everywhere.
"He's like a ghost," she thought one afternoon, watching him sit alone under a tree in the snow.
Her parents encouraged her to reach out.
"He might need a friend," her mother suggested gently.
(A/N: At This point Rosalind doesn't know much about him.)
Fianna shrugged. "He doesn't seem to want one."
Her father chuckled. "Perhaps he just doesn't know how to ask."
It wasn't until the fifth day that Fianna's curiosity overcame her hesitation.
She found Caspian in the library, curled up in a chair with his book.
He looked so absorbed in it that he didn't notice her approach.
"What are you reading?" she asked.
Caspian jolted, his eyes wide with surprise.
He clutched the book tightly, as if afraid she might take it away.
"Just... a story," he murmured.
Fianna tilted her head.
"You don't have to act so scared. I'm not going to bite." Fianna said.
He looked down, his cheeks flushing slightly.
"Sorry." Caspian replied.
For a moment, Fianna felt a pang of guilt. She softened her tone. "What's the story about?"
Caspian hesitated, then finally whispered, "A knight who tries to protect his kingdom but... everyone thinks he's a monster because of how he looks."
The words hung in the air between them.
Fianna's chest tightened, an emotion she couldn't name welling up inside her.
For the first time, she really looked at him—at the faint bags under his eyes, how he seemed to shrink into himself.
"That sounds... interesting," Fianna said, her voice softer now.
She moved to sit across from him, folding her hands neatly on her lap. "What happens to him?"
Caspian's fingers relaxed slightly on the book, and for the first time, he met her gaze.
"He keeps fighting. Even though no one believes in him, he doesn't stop." He said.
The words lingered in Fianna's mind.
She nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of connection to this quiet boy and his chosen story.
"I'd like to read it when you're done," she said.
Caspian blinked, clearly surprised by her interest.
"You would?"
"Of course," she said, trying to sound casual. "I like stories like that."
A small, fleeting smile touched his lips, so brief that she almost thought she imagined it.
"I'll finish it soon, then," he said softly.
They didn't talk much more after that, but something shifted between them.
Fianna didn't press him for conversation, and he didn't seem as wary of her presence.
She pulled a book from the nearest shelf—something light and unimportant—and sat quietly, the two of them sharing the same space in comfortable silence.
For the first time in years, Fianna didn't feel entirely alone.