Chapter Text
Agatha first became a maid in the Henituse Household when the current count was still a teen and she, herself, was one as well. Now as the head maid and wet nurse of Cale, she could say that she watched Deruth grow to become a great family man. Agatha never found any fault in Deruth, dare she say, she was proud of him for upholding the never ending neutral stand and steady wealth of the household while still being caring to his people.
Deruth was a man with no faults in her eyes. He was neither special nor was he one to be scorned. He was simply a wonderful husband and father to the recently passed Countess and to Cale respectively. Agatha even found it respectable that despite Deruth's busyness with the territory and the grief of the sudden passing of his beloved, Deruth managed to keep up his appearances.
Agatha thought that Deruth would be just as she had always seen. Capable, loving, and consistent. Yet, as she helped her young master Cale to his bed, she can't help but feel hatred towards him.
Their young master still talked. Not as loud and talkative as before, but at least he would now converse with everyone once more. It had been a rough year. The first few months after the Countess' passing was hard. Cale broke down almost everyday and he would always cry out for his mother. Ron could calm him down, as expected of the capable butler, but Agatha wished it was Deruth instead of Ron. After those first months, Cale mellowed until he was just silent. Agatha had seen how quiet Cale was around everyone except Ron and Beacrox, and sometimes her. On the rare occasions that Deruth was seen, Cale was just as silent as how he would be around the servants. Agatha understood that Deruth probably thought giving Cale some time was for the best but Cale was - is - a child. He's not as strong as Deruth thought him to be.
Every night, Agatha would check up on Cale.
She would see him sat on his bed and staring up at the night sky.
She would find him sweating from a nightmare.
She would be startled by the sight of Ron and Beacrox in the little one's room.
And all through it, Cale was silent and his eyes looked empty.
Cale would still ask questions just like every other child, only difference is that his questions aren't what you'd hear from a three-year-old.
"Why won't papa look at me?" "Why isn't papa here?" Does he not want me anymore?" "Was I the reason mama's gone?" "I want papa."
"I want papa to look at me again."
Recently, however, the Count was around more often. He was there for all three meals of the day, sharing mostly short conversations with Cale. Agatha can finally sleep at night with no worries.
Then when everything was turning better, everything came crashing down again. Because, of course, their young master had to suffer once more.
For the first time in a year, Cale's father had summoned him. Agatha could see how ecstatic Cale was. He woke up before Agatha could even wake him, and he even had the other maids help him prepare and get dressed. He was more chatty as well. It was the first time in a long while that he would be having a proper tea time with his father after all. Agatha knew that their meals were always so silent and there was almost always no room to talk so a tea time would be a welcomed change.
Agatha thought everything was fine (even with the rumors of the vassals pushing Deruth to marry).
She shouldn't have hoped.
She shouldn't have.
Not when Deruth approached her to inform that he and his fiancée would use the greenhouse.
Not when a modest but graceful lady entered through the threshold at that very moment with a noticeable bulge in her dress.
Agatha smiled that smile all experienced servants had. And through gritted teeth she answered, "Your orders would be brought out, my lord."
Cale was more than excited for the day. His father was not present during breakfast but that was fine. His father had called for him that afternoon after all.
Arriving in the greenhouse that afternoon, Ron faithfully stood behind Cale who was held by Beacrox in his arms. Cale's smile faltered and the hand that was unconsciously on the assistant chef's uniform tightened upon seeing who was in the greenhouse. Beside his father stood a stern looking lady. She was beautiful but to three-year-old Cale, she was a stranger. A very pregnant stranger who sat where his mother used to sit. His papa stood behind her chair as she held his papa's arm just like how his mother used to.
"Who are you?" Cale blurted out before he could stop himself. Cale felt Beacrox hold him closer, the hand resting against the back of his head moved to push his face into the older's chest- to shield him. Ron, who stood behind the two, softly placed a hand on Beacrox's shoulder to pull his child back. Hesitantly, Beacrox placed Cale down on the ground.
"Ron," Cale tugged at the butler's right sleeve, "Who is that lady sitting beside papa?" Cale's whispered question broke away Ron's steely eyes from their possible new Countess and they turned warm towards Cale who looked up at him. "I'm afraid I do not know either, young master." Cale adorably scrunched his nose in confusion, "You can go for now, Ron. I will talk to papa about this." Ron bowed, followed by Beacrox who was still hesitant to leave.
The two stayed close, of course. They stood near the greenhouse's doors and kept an eye on their young master.
Cale easily sat on his usual chair and then reached for the cookies on the table. Deruth visibly relaxed and sat down. The woman, Cale still did not know who she was, carefully poured a cup of lemon tea for Cale. She sat down, her movements still graceful. Cale, as polite as ever, raised the cup to his lips but he could not hide the grimace upon the taste. Then he continued on with his cookie without giving the teacup another look. A few moments of awkward silence reigned the tense greenhouse.
"Do you not like the tea?" Deruth cautiously asked after the unknown woman visibly flinched when Cale pushed the cup. "I heard you liked lemon tea." Cale hesitantly shook his head and gave his father a small apologetic smile. Without another word, Ron had approached the table again along with a trolley he asked Beacrox to prepare. He quickly added just the right amount of sugar for it to be sweet to a child and stirred a bit of honey before transferring it to a glass filled with ice.
Cale's eyes visibly brightened as he momentarily forgot he was in front of guests. He took the glass from Ron and gave him a toothy grin. "Thank you, Ron!" He exclaimed then turned back to his father. The innocent childish smile dropped like Cale had realized he wasn't alone. He winced slightly then gave the two a smile that Deruth now recognizes as one Cale wore when talking to adults.
Cale bites on another cookie. He politely brushes off some crumbs before he spoke up. "Papa, who is she?" He timidly asked. Deruth tensed once more. He observed Cale who was dwarfed by the white garden chair made out of ivory. Suddenly he was hit with the realization that Cale was just three.
Deruth shifted uncomfortably, raised the teacup to his lips, took a sip, and gulped down his nervousness. Cale innocently bit down on his cookie again. "This is Violan, who would soon be your stepmother and the new countess." Deruth slowly says while watching Cale's reaction.
Cale stilled.
He can't understand.
Cale took his glass of iced tea and held it near his chest as he looks down. "And is the baby in her tummy your child?" He mumbles over the drink because he had noticed the bump in her clothes. He had asked his mama once on why their maid had a bump on her clothes and his mama said that a baby was in there.
Deruth nods mutely, still grasping Violan's hand tightly, then says, "Yes, the baby is your new sibling."
A small drop rippled on the surface of the iced tea.
Cale still does not understand. Did he not do good? Did he not support his father and his territory? Why was he being replaced? Why were the memories of his mom being replaced?
Instead of the crying and screaming that Violan and Deruth braced themselves to face, they were met with silence.
Cale clammed up. He did not know what to do. He's angry, hurt, and sad but he can't. He can't do that. He can't go against what the adults whoknewmorethanhim said. They asked him to be good, to be strong for his papa so he will. Cale looks up to Ron who refilled his glass once more. Ron was his butler who was a steadfast pillar for him. Ron, in Cale's eyes, knew what to do best.
Cale pursed his lips, reddish brown eyes turning blank as he looked up at his butler. Ron's breath hitched. It was that look again. The empty haunted look. The same look that Cale had when he shut everyone out.
Ron couldn't do anything but smile and give Cale an encouraging look. It does not ease Cale's nerve. Frantically, Cale searched for something familiar. His hand reached out to his shorts to grip at them but it wasn't enough. He raised it to the table cloth but the cloth was rough and over-bearing. Finally, Cale's hands held the familiar cold and smooth surface of a glass of iced lemon tea. Cale took a deep breath in and listened to Ron working around to refill the cups of the two adults.
"Congratulations." Cale enunciates clearly after he had calmed down. He stands up and places the half-full glass of iced tea on the table. hewantstoleave heneedstoleave "Please excuse me, father." Cale turns around without another word, avoiding his father's eyes.
"Cale," Deruth calls out, alarmed by the sudden turn of events. He stands and grabs Cale's wrists. Cale was so small and pale. His hair had grown and for a moment, all Deruth could see was his former wife. She was so sickly, thin, and pale in her last months. And she was so so cold as he held her body in his arms while he wept.
Cale quickly turns his face towards his father. Deruth flinched at the emptiness of those reddish brown eyes. He stumbled back in shock.
Cale looked like a doll and it was not in a good way. Cale looked like a detailed porcelain doll. So beautiful, yet so fragile and so cold. A lone tear slid down Cale's cheek and now, Deruth could see the tremble in Cale's hand and the redness around his eyes. "Father," he calls out softly with his voice breaking, "I am not feeling well."
He lets Cale go.
Cale walks quickly towards Ron and Beacrox. Ron bends down to wipe the tears that threatened to fall while Beacrox gripped the hand that reached up to him. "I'll see you on breakfast tomorrow, father. I'm afraid I can't attend dinner tonight," Cale says without looking back.
Then like a second thought, he turned and bowed ever so slightly. "Once again, congratulations on your marriage and on the baby." Cale nodded stoically at Violan whose expression looked troubled like she wanted to reach out but she could not.
No matter how strong Deruth thinks Cale is. No matter what Deruth thinks Cale needs. Cale was still a child in the end. A child who could not understand the world, one who needed someone to guide him and tell him what's going on.
A child who longed for the only parent he had left.
Cale wanted to get out. His mind was in a mess and he couldn't comprehend what was happening. He did not know what to do but he wanted out.
He wanted to get out.
Back to his room.
With Ron and Beacrox.
where it's safe where i could cry where they don't tell me to be strong for others where i could be sad where i can talk without worrying where i'm safe
away from father away from the strange lady away from prying eyes where it's safe