#!darach

Cynthia was really concerned about her during that time, and rightfully so! One day during their little movie nights where they lazed around and just sort of enjoyed each others' company, Cynthia brought up that Caitlin had been acting differently and asked if everything was okay. She probably just got a small, meek affirmation in response and then this sort of happened:

I miss father.

***

Darach would wake up early to cook breakfast for his dad, who was always rushing out of the house to get to the castle. Every morning he would fetch the paper, put on the tea, water the plants, cook the eggs...

He did whatever he could to make things easier for his single parent, who would come home looking exhausted. After all, he would eventually have to take over the family business. 

"One day you're gonna be in my shoes, Darach!" He would laugh. "I'm getting old, after all."

"Yes, father." Darach enjoyed the idea of being like his father. Polite, compassionate, nurturing...

One morning, the paper lay on the doorstep. The kettle didn't boil. The plants remained thirsty and the eggs went uncooked. Darach stared at his reflection, slowly moving the folds of his bow tie into place.

He was only five when he learned how to knot a tie; the morning just before his mother's funeral. 

And now he was preparing for his father's. 

Most twenty-somethings would have broken down seeing their parents' graves, one next to the other. But not him. As he walked away from that cemetery, he threw his shoulders back, picked up his feet, and kept his head high. 

Things escalated quickly after that. The house was sold within the week and he was told that he would live in the castle with his employers and their daughter. 

Her. 

"I don't want to play with you! I don't want a new butler! Get me the old one!" 

Could this really be the girl whom his father cared for every day? It was hard to believe. 

Things were difficult those first weeks. She would get mad. Really mad. 

"I WANT YOUR FATHER BACK!" He couldn't blame her. So did he. 

The castle would shake with psychic energy. Fists clenched, she would lift herself from her bedroom floor. Darach's spectacles shattered. But he never left. He couldn't. His father was expecting him to care for this girl; to love her. 

Eventually she would enervate herself to the point of exhaustion, floating down into his arms. 

Things got better, though. He started to believe that maybe, as long as he had her, his father wouldn't really be gone. 

***