Chapter Text
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
In the De Valliere Pavilion residence, Sophie watched her parents busy with the formalities of their ancestral duties as Celestial Dragon Archivists. The archive room was silent, filled only with the scratching sound of Vellarius and Seraphina's quill pens. Too loud. Too rushed. As if their fingers couldn't fully hide their unease.
Before them lay unusual old sheets. The paper was yellowed, the writing dense, and they bore no official seal like typical Archive documents. There was something about the way they both bowed their heads reading that made the room feel heavier than it should.
They didn't realize Sophie had slipped into the archive room. Didn't realize their daughter now stood behind the silk curtain, witnessing that her parents weren't working on the usual formality tasks they displayed before other Celestial Dragons.
Since she began understanding the world around her, Sophie had known there was a stark difference between her family and the Celestial Dragons outside. That difference was never announced, never discussed. Yet it was always present—silent and consistent.
Sophie often found her parents buying slaves at high prices, just so the slaves wouldn't fall into other nobles' hands. She noticed how her mother pulled slave chains with slow precision, as if being careful that the jolt felt wouldn't be too painful when they had to walk past other Celestial Dragons.
Sophie observed.
Always observing even the smallest details that escaped her parents' own awareness.
Like when Seraphina's shoulders relaxed when Sophie, on her fifth birthday, chose a book as a gift—instead of asking for a slave like other Celestial Dragon children out there. That small reaction remained etched, and from there Sophie's observation slowly developed.
Without realizing it, she began comparing.
Initially, Sophie didn't take anyone's side. Year after year passed, and she observed in silence, following the flow of her own life to make sure: was her parents' kindness just a phase, and was the greed and cruelty of other Celestial Dragons just a coincidence.
She waited.
Waited until she was certain.
Now, she slipped into the archive room not to judge her parents' choices, but because she felt her observations had been sufficient. She saw her parents slowly aging with burdens they never spoke of, while people outside aged with disgusting greed.
"Father, Mother."
Sophie's voice broke the silence of the archive room, as delicate as a crack in glass. She stepped out from behind the silk curtain calmly.
"Those people out there... they don't know anything," she continued. "While we know something is wrong. Isn't that right?"
They both flinched.
Seraphina tidied the sheets on the table, while Vellarius stopped writing. The tip of his pen hung too long in the air.
"What are you talking about, Sophie?" Vellarius cleared his throat. "And since when have you been there? Father never taught you to enter without permission."
His voice was calm. Too calm. The tone of a father reprimanding his child for a small mistake.
However, Sophie, who had been observing for years, recognized their every gesture. Behind their controlled faces, she saw panic and barely contained anxiety. Seraphina said nothing, but her fingers on the table trembled again.
Sophie stepped closer. Her gaze shifted from father to mother.
"Teach me what you're studying." Her small hand pointed to the pile of sheets Seraphina hadn't managed to tidy. "I don't want to become like those who live without ever questioning anything."
Vellarius and Seraphina froze. They glanced at each other, with one unspoken question: since when?
"Sophie, listen to Mother, we don't know what you mean—"
"Don't lie to me," Sophie said softly. Not accusing—more like asking.
"I don't know what you're studying." Her gaze dropped to the table for a moment, then rose again. "But I know those aren't ordinary records." She took a small breath. "There's a reason why our family is different from other Celestial Dragons." A brief silence before Sophie continued. Her voice was almost a whisper.
"And there's a reason why you always look wary..."
Sophie straightened her shoulders.
"I don't know the truth. But I know... it's something many people shouldn't know about."
The archive room sank back into silence. This time, heavier.
Vellarius and Seraphina were truly at a loss for words. All this time they'd been careful not to be discovered by anyone, yet they were caught off guard by their own child—not because she knew too much, but because she could see too far.
Seraphina stepped closer and knelt, leveling herself with ten-year-old Sophie.
"No, Sophie. No." Her head shook slowly. Her eyes glistened. "You shouldn't be curious about this. You mustn't."
Seraphina's hands gripped Sophie's shoulders. "You must live normally." Her voice broke. "Not... not like us."
"Live normally?" Sophie asked flatly. "You mean, the life of people who live without ever questioning anything—as long as they're safe?"
The grip on her shoulders tightened. Not strong enough to hurt—just to make her understand. Tears fell from the corners of Seraphina's eyes.
"No, dear. Not like that. Mother and Father just want you to stay alive." Seraphina gazed intently at Sophie. Tears fell again, her voice catching as she continued. "What you're asking today, if we explain it, you won't... survive."
"I know, Mother."
Sophie's answer was calm, polite, and unwavering. Her small thumb slowly lifted to wipe the tears falling on Seraphina's cheek. Years of observing, she could easily understand her mother's feelings without them being expressed.
"But I've been watching too long. I need to know the truth."
Vellarius watched the two women he loved most in the Hell called Mary Geoise while gripping his quill pen until it nearly broke. He didn't want his daughter to know the truth considered a sin—which is why he never forced his child to follow the path they chose.
Not once.
Never.
Vellarius should have recognized that sign from the beginning—since Sophie never asked for slaves as birthday gifts. It wasn't simply that she preferred books, but from that moment, Sophie who observed in silence began to realize something was wrong. Something unnatural.
But now it was too late. He knew, with Sophie's arrival tonight at the archive room, the era of De Valliere loyalty had ended. They had completely become enemies in disguise in the place that least understood justice.
"Sophie," Vellarius called. His voice low, full of calculation, and firmness—but before he could continue—
"Don't," Seraphina interrupted, her voice beginning to sob. "We're ready to die knowing this, but I can't bear it if our child must also bear the readiness for death that we know could come at any time."
Sophie immediately released her mother's grip and stepped back.
"Don't protect me by keeping me blind, Mother." Sophie said now with a firmer tone, but still polite—neither wavering nor doubtful. "Protect me with knowledge, so I can truly be free." Her gaze didn't falter. "If I must die... I want to die knowing. Not die in ignorance."
Seraphina's hand hung in the air as Sophie stepped back. She didn't pull it back. In the end, Seraphina knew what Vellarius was thinking.
They knew there was no other choice.
Because Sophie wouldn't stop. Even if they refused to tell her, that child would find out on her own—and that would be far more dangerous.
A heavy sigh came from Vellarius. He saw Seraphina trying to calm herself, then turned to look at his child who now stood firmly before them with eyes full of determination.
"Sophie, there will be no going back," Vellarius said softly, laden with emphasis. Not to scare, but because that was the reality. He stared at Sophie sharply. "If we're found out," he paused, "there's no chance to speak, Sophie. No trial."
His breath was heavy.
"Only judgment. Immediately."
"The burden on your shoulders will be very heavy," Seraphina added, wiping her tears. She began to accept that her daughter would now walk the same path. "Because what we're learning will change how you see the world."
Vellarius suddenly rose from his chair. He approached his daughter and without warning lifted Sophie and sat her in his chair.
"You see this, dear," He stroked the top of Sophie's head. "This is what we've been studying," he said, letting Sophie see the stack of ancient parchments on the table.
Sophie's heart pounded hard. Not from fear, but because she now knew what her parents had been studying all this time. Her eyes sparkled with interest, gazing at the yellowed sheets—old, fragile, with edges beginning to tear.
Those sheets weren't like what she usually saw from the archives her parents worked on. Very different. Full of strange symbols, moons, stars, clouds, and random numbers mixed with foreign letters she didn't recognize. When she touched their surface, the smell of old paper—musty, and dry wood—immediately hit her strongly.
"This... what is this?" she asked softly.
Seraphina stood beside her, taking one sheet carefully. "This is the hidden truth, dear."
Sophie's heart beat faster.
Her breath caught. She usually only guessed, without knowing anything. But that day, she could touch and see directly.
Vellarius pointed to a moon symbol in the corner of Seraphina's paper. "Look at this. Every symbol has a meaning," He opened a thick, worn book. "In the old cipher, this moon means 'Ancient.'"
Sophie's eyes traced another paper. There were symbols of swords, skulls, the sun. "So... you're reading this secret writing to know the truth?"
"Not just reading." Seraphina smiled thinly. "Mother searches for these symbols from hundreds of documents and your father translates them..." she touched Sophie's head gently, "...do you still want to know, dear?"
Sophie stared at the pile of papers. So many. So complicated. So... dangerous. But she nodded.
"Teach me."
Vellarius touched Sophie's shoulder. "You must be ready for all the risks," he said firmly, reminding her. He didn't want his daughter to regret it later.
Sophie exhaled slowly, then smiled at her parents. "As long as it's with you both, I'll always be ready."
And that night, while preparing for the Holy Blood Confirmation Session, Sophie De Valliere learned to read the truth the world tried to bury.
Slowly. Gradually. With the patience of one who knows the journey will be long.