𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀𝐀AAAAA-!

Then the illness came.

Your sibling withered before his eyes, and when the end came, they had only enough strength to whisper your name.

“Take care of them,” your sibling had said. “Promise me.”

Phainon had promised. Gods, he had meant it.

But he hadn't meant this.

You didn’t cry at your sibling’s funeral. Phainon remembered that, how you stood beneath the low sky, head bowed, a ghost in your own right. It was only later, the family desperate to honor the pact and avoid scandal, turned to you. Out of duty, out of tradition, out of grief warped into obligation.

He had said nothing. Not yes. Not no.

The air in the garden of the Elysiae estate smelled of dusk and lavender—a scent Phainon once loved. Now, it suffocated him.

Golden drapes fluttered in the wind as nobles and strangers alike filled the marble pavilion, their voices a soft murmur of congratulations and expectation. Phainon stood at the altar, his hands clenched behind his back, the ornate cuffs of his coat biting into his wrists. Beside him, you stood silently, the very image of grace and restraint.

He did not look at you. He couldn’t.

He was supposed to marry your sibling, not you. Words like “eternal bond” and “chosen devotion” spun around him like vines, choking him with every breath. He glanced at you then—just once—and you were already looking at him. Not with hope. Regret.

“This wasn’t meant for us,” he continued, the truth bitter on his tongue. “I can’t love you the way you deserve. My heart… it still belongs to someone else.” you clutched the bouquet in your hands tightly, the slender line of your knuckles turning white..you hated this man. For stealing every minute of your sisters life leaving none for you, oh how you hated this man for stealing the last moments of your sisters life leaving you to only see her dead on her bed by the time you got to see her.

He hated this too. The forced union neither of you wanted, the pain it brought up in you both.The priest continued with the ceremony—the words blending together into a dull hum. Phainon forced himself to look at you again. Your gaze was cast downward, your expression carefully neutral. Yet, in the way you stood—just a bit too rigid, just a bit too still—he could see the emotions you fought to conceal.

Phainon’s voice was low, barely above a breath as he said his vows. The wind caught the edge of his coat, whispering through the silence between you like an apology he couldn’t speak aloud.He didn’t reach for your hand. Didn’t dare.

But he turned his head—just slightly—so that when your eyes lifted again, they might meet not in judgment or expectation… but recognition. I know, that glance said. I know this isn't yours either.

And for a heartbeat—the smallest fraction of one—the weight on his shoulders felt less like duty and more like something softer: regret shared instead of burdened alone.

Then the priest called their names together as husband and wife.

He watched as you immediately left the altar as soon as the priest left.

The room erupted in applause and soft laughter. Some approached him to offer good wishes, but Phainon barely heard them. He watched you hurry away, disappearing into the garden labyrinth

He was tempted to follow. To chase you down the gravel paths and find some semblance of truth in the chaos.

But before he could act, he was interrupted.

"There you are, my boy!" a booming voice called out.

Phainon turned to find your father approaching, a fake smile plastered across his face.

"Quite a wedding, isn't it?" the old man said, patting Phainon on the back. "Never seen you so serious, you know."

Phainon fought the urge to roll his eyes. As if he had any real choice in the matter."It's… grand," he forced himself to say.

Your father chuckled, oblivious or just uncaring about the tension radiating off Phainon. "Oh, yes, and the best part is yet to come! You just wait."

He can't be serious, Phainon thought."The best part?" he echoed, trying to keep his tone cordial.

Your father's smile widened. "Of course! Tonight is your wedding night, after all."

Phainon's mind raced. Gods, he had almost forgotten about that. The thought of a traditional wedding night filled him with dread. Intimacy was the last thing he wanted.

He was pretty sure you wouldn't let him touch you. You hadn't even looked at him during the ceremony. The thought of spending the wedding night, let alone a lifetime, with someone who actively avoided him nearly made his chest ache.

But your father was still here, eyeing him expectantly. Phainon knew better than to refuse outright.

"Of course," he forced himself to say. "I wouldn't dream of neglecting my… responsibilities."

Your father slapped him on the back, completely missing the bitter irony in Phainon's words. "That's the spirit! Make sure to show your lady a good time, eh?"

Phainon gritted his teeth. As if she'd let me.

But he kept his reply simple. "I'll do my best."

The moment your father turned away, Phainon's mask of obedience cracked. He exhaled sharply through his nose, the weight of this farce pressing down on him like a physical force.

His eyes flickered toward the garden path where you'd vanished—toward whatever solitude you were seeking. A part of him wanted to follow anyway, just to say what little could be said: I know. This isn't right.

But another part—the one that still belonged to someone else—held him rooted in place.

Instead, he lifted his wineglass and took a long sip. The bitter taste matched everything else about tonight perfectly.

When it came time for bed…

Phainon stood outside your shared chambers like a man facing execution.

Phainon stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight cutting across the floor.

And there you were—curled on the couch like a stray cat seeking shelter from rain, your back turned to him as if even in sleep you refused to acknowledge his presence.

His chest tightened.

For one reckless second, he considered waking you—to explain? To apologize? But what words could fix this?

Instead, Phainon moved silently through the room until he stood beside your sleeping form. He hesitated… then gently draped an extra blanket over you with fingers that trembled just slightly before pulling away again.

He should have felt relief at being spared whatever awkwardness awaited—but all Phainon felt now was another layer of guilt pressing down upon him while watching over someone who clearly wished they didn’t share space at all.

As Phainon sat awake on the edge of the bed, guilt gnawed at his heart.

It was more than just the pain of your indifference—although gods knew that was more than painful enough. It was knowing how you must see him… how you believed it was his love that had stolen your sibling away.

He could hear you stir in your sleep, could see the blanket shifting with the movement of your shoulders.

Another wave of guilt washed over him. He'd promised your sibling he'd take care of you. He was failing already.

Morning broke. Soft light crept across the floor, gently coaxing Phainon from sleep.

He opened his eyes slowly, the weight of the night still heavy on his mind. He hadn't slept well. Every minor sound, every shift of the mattress, had kept him on edge.

Phainon sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. His back ached from sleeping upright, and he could hear the sounds of the estate awakening—birds singing, distant conversations.

He was still sitting on the edge of the bed when he heard the sounds of stirring on the couch.

Phainon exhaled slowly, folding the letter with careful hands. He didn’t deserve this—this quiet trust from someone who no longer existed. But he would follow through.

So when servants came knocking to announce breakfast, Phainon turned them away with a sharp shake of his head and whispered orders: "Leave the tray outside for later."

He then crossed to your wardrobe—hesitated—and selected an oversized silk robe (one he'd seen you wear often) before draping it over a chair within easy reach once you woke.

And because your sibling’s last talk about you had been about your liking to chocolate…

Well.

By noon? There would be freshly baked truffles waiting on that tray beside warm tea and honeyed pastries… along with one small sun-shaped charm tucked beneath napkin folds . A silent plea disguised as remembrance:

“I know I’m not who should give these things but perhaps even the wrong hands could learn how to hold something gently anyway.”

He lingered near the doorframe watching dust motes dance through light while waiting, while you occupy his thoughts

You slowly woke up. Sitting up straight on the sofa you just spent the night on. As your eyes fluttered open your eyes caught the truffles on the tray with pastries. Your curiosity got the best of you and carefully took a truffle and peacefully ate it. Savouring the taste, silently nodding knowing he was watching her.

Phainon stood in the doorway, trying to appear casual as he watched you.

He saw the moment, your eyebrows lifting and your gaze softening ever so slightly. He saw the way you reached for a truffle, popping it into your mouth with a thoughtful expression.

He couldn't quite decipher what you were feeling from your face. Surprise, maybe. A hint of something unexpected.

So he continued to wait, watching you silently.

Once he saw the nod phainon blinked once in subtle surprise.

He hadn't expected an actual response, let alone a nod that felt like a tiny crack in the ice between you.

Despite the heaviness still weighing on his heart, a flicker of hope sparked. It was a small gesture, but coming from you, it felt significant.

Phainon gave a nod of his own in return. A silent understanding, an acknowledgement that this was still new and fragile.

But maybe, just maybe… It was a start.

Later that evening.

Phainon's jaw clenched slightly as he escorted you to another formal meeting. He didn't like the way people's eyes followed you, the curiosity mixed with judgment in their gazes.

This was the third such gathering he'd brought you to. The whispers and stares were the same each time. The only difference was the questions asked and the thinly veiled insinuations.

Phainon could almost see them wondering why a man like him—respected, disciplined, loyal—would be saddled to someone so quiet and aloof.

As he sat at the head of the table with the noblemen eyes his flicked toward you as you busied yourself with chocolate covered almonds. He knew these events were probably boring for you, the endless rounds of formality and politics.

But something about seeing you snacking quietly, occasionally catching an inquiring glance from other nobles, made his hand tighten.

A protective impulse, perhaps. An urge to shield you from the weight of their judgment. Despite everything, he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place.

As the discussions continued, Phainon found himself stealing glances at you more often. Each time he did, a strange ache settled in his chest. He tried to focus on the conversations, on the important matters at hand... but his gaze kept straying.

There was a sort of quiet dignity in the way you carried yourself, even in this unfamiliar, stuffy environment. You didn't seem cowed or intimidated. If anything, you looked bored. The almonds seemed more interesting than the political intrigue unfolding before you.

Suddenly one of the noblemen elias spoke up.

“the mute girl eh. your lover dies and you marry the mute younger sister lord phainon?”

Phainon's entire body went rigid at Elias' words. His grip on his own goblet tightened until the metal creaked under the pressure.

He knew you weren’t truly mute, but seeing how your fingers curled around an almond mid-bite—how still you became despite everything else—he understood what Elias was doing. Humiliating you in front of everyone.

And for a moment, Phainon saw red.

His voice came out low and dangerous when he finally spoke: "Watch your tongue."

But before he could continue further—

You reached up… and dropped an entire handful of chocolate covered almonds directly onto Elias’ pristine white coat lapel with deliberate precision.

Then the illness came.

Your sibling withered before his eyes, and when the end came, they had only enough strength to whisper your name.

“Take care of them,” your sibling had said. “Promise me.”

Phainon had promised. Gods, he had meant it.

But he hadn't meant this.

You didn’t cry at your sibling’s funeral. Phainon remembered that, how you stood beneath the low sky, head bowed, a ghost in your own right. It was only later, the family desperate to honor the pact and avoid scandal, turned to you. Out of duty, out of tradition, out of grief warped into obligation.

He had said nothing. Not yes. Not no.

The air in the garden of the Elysiae estate smelled of dusk and lavender—a scent Phainon once loved. Now, it suffocated him.

Golden drapes fluttered in the wind as nobles and strangers alike filled the marble pavilion, their voices a soft murmur of congratulations and expectation. Phainon stood at the altar, his hands clenched behind his back, the ornate cuffs of his coat biting into his wrists. Beside him, you stood silently, the very image of grace and restraint.

He did not look at you. He couldn’t.

He was supposed to marry your sibling, not you. Words like “eternal bond” and “chosen devotion” spun around him like vines, choking him with every breath. He glanced at you then—just once—and you were already looking at him. Not with hope. Regret.

“This wasn’t meant for us,” he continued, the truth bitter on his tongue. “I can’t love you the way you deserve. My heart… it still belongs to someone else.” you clutched the bouquet in your hands tightly, the slender line of your knuckles turning white..you hated this man. For stealing every minute of your sisters life leaving none for you, oh how you hated this man for stealing the last moments of your sisters life leaving you to only see her dead on her bed by the time you got to see her.

He hated this too. The forced union neither of you wanted, the pain it brought up in you both.The priest continued with the ceremony—the words blending together into a dull hum. Phainon forced himself to look at you again. Your gaze was cast downward, your expression carefully neutral. Yet, in the way you stood—just a bit too rigid, just a bit too still—he could see the emotions you fought to conceal.

Phainon’s voice was low, barely above a breath as he said his vows. The wind caught the edge of his coat, whispering through the silence between you like an apology he couldn’t speak aloud.He didn’t reach for your hand. Didn’t dare.

But he turned his head—just slightly—so that when your eyes lifted again, they might meet not in judgment or expectation… but recognition. I know, that glance said. I know this isn't yours either.

And for a heartbeat—the smallest fraction of one—the weight on his shoulders felt less like duty and more like something softer: regret shared instead of burdened alone.

Then the priest called their names together as husband and wife.

He watched as you immediately left the altar as soon as the priest left.

The room erupted in applause and soft laughter. Some approached him to offer good wishes, but Phainon barely heard them. He watched you hurry away, disappearing into the garden labyrinth

He was tempted to follow. To chase you down the gravel paths and find some semblance of truth in the chaos.

But before he could act, he was interrupted.

"There you are, my boy!" a booming voice called out.

Phainon turned to find your father approaching, a fake smile plastered across his face.

"Quite a wedding, isn't it?" the old man said, patting Phainon on the back. "Never seen you so serious, you know."

Phainon fought the urge to roll his eyes. As if he had any real choice in the matter."It's… grand," he forced himself to say.

Your father chuckled, oblivious or just uncaring about the tension radiating off Phainon. "Oh, yes, and the best part is yet to come! You just wait."

He can't be serious, Phainon thought."The best part?" he echoed, trying to keep his tone cordial.

Your father's smile widened. "Of course! Tonight is your wedding night, after all."

Phainon's mind raced. Gods, he had almost forgotten about that. The thought of a traditional wedding night filled him with dread. Intimacy was the last thing he wanted.

He was pretty sure you wouldn't let him touch you. You hadn't even looked at him during the ceremony. The thought of spending the wedding night, let alone a lifetime, with someone who actively avoided him nearly made his chest ache.

But your father was still here, eyeing him expectantly. Phainon knew better than to refuse outright.

"Of course," he forced himself to say. "I wouldn't dream of neglecting my… responsibilities."

Your father slapped him on the back, completely missing the bitter irony in Phainon's words. "That's the spirit! Make sure to show your lady a good time, eh?"

Phainon gritted his teeth. As if she'd let me.

But he kept his reply simple. "I'll do my best."

The moment your father turned away, Phainon's mask of obedience cracked. He exhaled sharply through his nose, the weight of this farce pressing down on him like a physical force.

His eyes flickered toward the garden path where you'd vanished—toward whatever solitude you were seeking. A part of him wanted to follow anyway, just to say what little could be said: I know. This isn't right.

But another part—the one that still belonged to someone else—held him rooted in place.

Instead, he lifted his wineglass and took a long sip. The bitter taste matched everything else about tonight perfectly.

When it came time for bed…

Phainon stood outside your shared chambers like a man facing execution.

Phainon stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. The room was dark except for a sliver of moonlight cutting across the floor.

And there you were—curled on the couch like a stray cat seeking shelter from rain, your back turned to him as if even in sleep you refused to acknowledge his presence.

His chest tightened.

For one reckless second, he considered waking you—to explain? To apologize? But what words could fix this?

Instead, Phainon moved silently through the room until he stood beside your sleeping form. He hesitated… then gently draped an extra blanket over you with fingers that trembled just slightly before pulling away again.

He should have felt relief at being spared whatever awkwardness awaited—but all Phainon felt now was another layer of guilt pressing down upon him while watching over someone who clearly wished they didn’t share space at all.

As Phainon sat awake on the edge of the bed, guilt gnawed at his heart.

It was more than just the pain of your indifference—although gods knew that was more than painful enough. It was knowing how you must see him… how you believed it was his love that had stolen your sibling away.

He could hear you stir in your sleep, could see the blanket shifting with the movement of your shoulders.

Another wave of guilt washed over him. He'd promised your sibling he'd take care of you. He was failing already.

Morning broke. Soft light crept across the floor, gently coaxing Phainon from sleep.

He opened his eyes slowly, the weight of the night still heavy on his mind. He hadn't slept well. Every minor sound, every shift of the mattress, had kept him on edge.

Phainon sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. His back ached from sleeping upright, and he could hear the sounds of the estate awakening—birds singing, distant conversations.

He was still sitting on the edge of the bed when he heard the sounds of stirring on the couch.

Phainon exhaled slowly, folding the letter with careful hands. He didn’t deserve this—this quiet trust from someone who no longer existed. But he would follow through.

So when servants came knocking to announce breakfast, Phainon turned them away with a sharp shake of his head and whispered orders: "Leave the tray outside for later."

He then crossed to your wardrobe—hesitated—and selected an oversized silk robe (one he'd seen you wear often) before draping it over a chair within easy reach once you woke.

And because your sibling’s last talk about you had been about your liking to chocolate…

Well.

By noon? There would be freshly baked truffles waiting on that tray beside warm tea and honeyed pastries… along with one small sun-shaped charm tucked beneath napkin folds . A silent plea disguised as remembrance:

“I know I’m not who should give these things but perhaps even the wrong hands could learn how to hold something gently anyway.”

He lingered near the doorframe watching dust motes dance through light while waiting, while you occupy his thoughts

You slowly woke up. Sitting up straight on the sofa you just spent the night on. As your eyes fluttered open your eyes caught the truffles on the tray with pastries. Your curiosity got the best of you and carefully took a truffle and peacefully ate it. Savouring the taste, silently nodding knowing he was watching her.

Phainon stood in the doorway, trying to appear casual as he watched you.

He saw the moment, your eyebrows lifting and your gaze softening ever so slightly. He saw the way you reached for a truffle, popping it into your mouth with a thoughtful expression.

He couldn't quite decipher what you were feeling from your face. Surprise, maybe. A hint of something unexpected.

So he continued to wait, watching you silently.

Once he saw the nod phainon blinked once in subtle surprise.

He hadn't expected an actual response, let alone a nod that felt like a tiny crack in the ice between you.

Despite the heaviness still weighing on his heart, a flicker of hope sparked. It was a small gesture, but coming from you, it felt significant.

Phainon gave a nod of his own in return. A silent understanding, an acknowledgement that this was still new and fragile.

But maybe, just maybe… It was a start.

Later that evening.

Phainon's jaw clenched slightly as he escorted you to another formal meeting. He didn't like the way people's eyes followed you, the curiosity mixed with judgment in their gazes.

This was the third such gathering he'd brought you to. The whispers and stares were the same each time. The only difference was the questions asked and the thinly veiled insinuations.

Phainon could almost see them wondering why a man like him—respected, disciplined, loyal—would be saddled to someone so quiet and aloof.

As he sat at the head of the table with the noblemen eyes his flicked toward you as you busied yourself with chocolate covered almonds. He knew these events were probably boring for you, the endless rounds of formality and politics.

But something about seeing you snacking quietly, occasionally catching an inquiring glance from other nobles, made his hand tighten.

A protective impulse, perhaps. An urge to shield you from the weight of their judgment. Despite everything, he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable or out of place.

As the discussions continued, Phainon found himself stealing glances at you more often. Each time he did, a strange ache settled in his chest. He tried to focus on the conversations, on the important matters at hand... but his gaze kept straying.

There was a sort of quiet dignity in the way you carried yourself, even in this unfamiliar, stuffy environment. You didn't seem cowed or intimidated. If anything, you looked bored. The almonds seemed more interesting than the political intrigue unfolding before you.

Suddenly one of the noblemen elias spoke up.

“the mute girl eh. your lover dies and you marry the mute younger sister lord phainon?”

Phainon's entire body went rigid at Elias' words. His grip on his own goblet tightened until the metal creaked under the pressure.

He knew you weren’t truly mute, but seeing how your fingers curled around an almond mid-bite—how still you became despite everything else—he understood what Elias was doing. Humiliating you in front of everyone.

And for a moment, Phainon saw red.

His voice came out low and dangerous when he finally spoke: "Watch your tongue."

But before he could continue further—

You reached up… and dropped an entire handful of chocolate covered almonds directly onto Elias’ pristine white coat lapel with deliberate precision.