Chapter Text
𝐈 || Cinderidia.
Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a peculiar family, somewhat distant yet warm, just like the blue flames of their hair.
The father was an important duke who was almost never home, due to the fact that he traveled throughout the kingdom and neighboring kingdoms because of his work.
He had very little time for his wife and children, who stayed at home waiting for his arrival. His wife was an honorable, very busy and respected lady, someone with an open mind and charisma, but with a dreamy side that she hoped to pass on to her children.
When the wife became pregnant after so many attempts, the news brought joy to the household. Both the couple and the servants and animals celebrated for the future heir.
They prayed to the gods for the health of their lady as well as that of her baby, for a healthy pregnancy and a safe delivery without complications.
Nine months later, their prayers were answered, and a baby boy with amber eyes and blue flame-like hair was born, whom they named Idia.
Idia Shroud
The child had inherited all the characteristics of the Shrouds, such as his unique hair, all except for his amber eyes, which he had inherited from his mother.
The child was the light of his parents, who, despite being busy, always found time for him. But that child was not alone; on the contrary, he had more than one nanny looking after him.
Especially while his father traveled and his mother was busy, his father's older sister would often visit him to tell him about her adventures.
His aunt, Azelie Shroud, was a woman who had renounced the title of duchess and handed it over to her younger brother (Idia's father) after realizing that he was more capable than she was. With no obligations as the heir anymore, she decided to become a merchant and travel through different kingdoms.
Every once in a while, she would return home to visit her brother and his family, especially her little nephew, whom she would tell stories about distant lands as well as those of great heroes.
Her nephew listened delightedly, dreaming of becoming a great hero someday, just like those in the stories his aunt told him.
His mother also told him stories whenever she could, as did his father whenever he returned; that was why Idia always longed for his father's arrival.
When they were all together, they would go to a river in the meadow to spend time as a family and tell stories.
His parents taught him not to see the world as it truly was, but as it could be with a little bit of magic and ingenuity.
“Do they understand us?” - He asked his parents in a childish voice one of those days together by the river.
He was three years old at the time, sitting on his mother's lap while angrily watching a small, injured, and malnourished wolf cub that had stolen his food.
“They hear us, and they also speak if we listen to them carefully; they teach us how to take care of them.” - His mother replied, playing with the flames of his hair.
Idia watched as his father picked up the little white wolf and offered it more food. The little wolf was a little hostile, but relaxed at the sight of the food.
“And who takes care of us?” - He asked again, looking into his mother's eyes.
Their amber eyes met, and if there was something Idia loved about her, it was her amber eyes, that trait he shared with his mother.
“Well, the fairy godmothers, of course.” - She said sweetly, with an amused tone at her son's reaction.
“You believe in them too?” - His gaze turned to his father, who was still holding the little wolf.
“You know very well that we believe in everything.” - His father answered this time, looking at him with amusement.
He brought the wolf cub closer to him, and Idia hesitated before holding it in his trembling arms.
“Why?”
“Because faith is the strongest magic in the entire universe. Don't you ever forget that.” - At his parents' answer, Idia simply nodded.
“Then I'm going to believe in everything too.” - He stated with all the firmness a three-year-old could have.
That same day, as they returned home, the injured little wolf followed them with difficulty before being carried in their arms.
It was a newborn male cub, a white wolf that had apparently been separated from its pack somehow, but ended up in their home.
His mother named him Jack.
“Names have power.” - She said when Idia asked her why.
“You'll have someone to play with now.” - Those were his father's words, confirming that they had adopted Jack.
Jack seemed to suffer from the heat because his breed originated from some snowy region, so they bathed him with cold water every day.
And it was one December afternoon when Idia and Jack were playing in the snow that his parents gave them the great news.
He was going to have a brother!
A younger brother!
That news brought joy to the entire family, including the servants and animals. A second child! The house would no longer feel so lonely with just Idia.
So, nine months later, the new member of the family was born, a boy whom Idia named Ortho when his parents let him choose the name.
“Why Ortho?” - His father asked.
“Names have power.” - That was Idia's answer, and at the pleased look on his parents' faces, he smiled.
When his parents let him hold Ortho, Idia felt that at the slightest touch, the younger boy would break like glass.
He adored his brother, loved him more than anything in the world, and longed to watch him grow up. And so he did, Ortho grew faster than Idia expected.
Or rather, time passed without him realizing it. He also grew up and was now six years old, but even though he was already big, his parents still treated him like a little boy. (And because he was one.)
His father's workload had increased; now he traveled for longer periods of time and returned for a few days before leaving again.
The brothers missed him very much, but they knew he would always return. Just like their aunt Azelie, who now visited them much more often than before.
His mother, on the other hand, seemed a little… Downcast.
Whenever Idia asked her if something was wrong, she would only reply with an “I'm fine,” smile, ruffle his hair, and retreat to her study again.
That was why Ortho spent most of his time clinging to Idia, who would tell him stories and play with him. Of course, whenever their father returned, they would all go together to the little river for a picnic.
His father would always bring them something from his travels, whether it was something as simple as a pomegranate or something as elaborate as a wooden figurine.
Ortho's favorites were the sweets their father brought; Idia, on the other hand, loved the inventions his father brought.
“Looks like someone wants to be an inventor…” - His father's voice pulled him out of his euphoria over the new invention his father had brought from another country.
They were small, long, thin tubes that contained ink inside, with a small ball of what he believed to be steel at the tip.
“Do you like them? They're meant to replace quills, but they're only just becoming more common in the Queendom of Roses.” - His father ruffled his hair, turning his gaze toward the window of his mother's study.
She had begun to sing, and one thing that father and sons shared was that they loved listening to her sing.
“I like them, thank you very much.” - He thanked him with a smile, taking a sweet from the box Ortho was holding.
“When I saw them, I thought of you and your mother. I know you like to draw, so I thought you'd like them.” - He turned his gaze back to him, smiling as he always did.
But Idia could clearly see the concern in his eyes. He thought about how to ask if something was wrong with his mother and get an answer, because he knew his father would avoid the question.
“Dad—” - Was all he managed to say before he was interrupted by his younger brother.
“Nii-san drew me yesterday, Dad.” - Ortho's cheerful comment made the words die in his throat.
“Really? You must show me that work of art.” - His father's playful words were what finally made him fall silent.
“But he drew me with really big eyes! And then he drew me again with giant cheeks, and I'm not chubby.” - He said with childish indignation that made his father laugh.
Idia simply watched this while listening to his mother sing, longing for his mother to truly be okay and for him to be wrong.
What was wrong with his mother?
He had faith that she would be okay.
But that very night, the answer to his question came, right after his mother had given him and Ortho a goodnight kiss.
It was an ordinary night; Ortho lay asleep in Idia's bed because he had sneaked out of his crib and into Idia's room.
Idia wasn't sleepy yet, but it was already bedtime, and he wouldn't risk getting a lecture from his parents for staying up late.
His mother had tucked them in with the sheets, then gave them a goodnight kiss and sang them their favorite lullaby.
Ortho fell asleep; Idia knew by his breathing. Idia had only closed his eyes, something his mother noticed immediately, but she didn't scold him.
“Sweet dreams, my little flames…” - His mother murmured, putting out almost all the candles before leaving the room.
That night, Idia heard his father's alarmed screams and the chaotic noise of the servants, but he didn't dare leave his room to investigate.
Even when Ortho woke up crying, Idia didn't dare leave and simply hugged him like his mother did whenever they had a nightmare.
Idia wished it were a nightmare.
But he realized how real this was a week later, when one of the best doctors in the kingdom came to examine his mother.
“I know this is very difficult for you…” - Was all Idia heard while Ortho cried inconsolably on his shoulder.
He hadn't heard a single word of what the doctor said; his mind was blank, and all the noise sounded distant, from Jack's barking to the words of comfort their nannies gave them.
“Idy, Ortho… Come here for a moment, please.” - His father called in a sweet voice, calling him by that nickname that made his stomach churn.
Ortho was picked up by his father's arms, who tried to stop his crying. Idia just watched, unable to do anything else.
His father practically forced him to stand, to walk while leaning on him toward that room where his mother lay collapsed in her bed.
His mother hugged them, apologized for scaring them, and asked them to forgive her because she would soon have to leave.
“I don't want you to leave! I want you to stay with me!” - Ortho screamed through his tears, clinging to her with all his strength.
Did he think his mother was going away on a trip, just like his father usually did? Did he understand the true meaning of “leaving”?
Idia didn't want to know.
He simply clung to her, hugging her and silently praying for her to stay. She had to stay, she needed to…
Who would sing to them at night?
Who would wish them sweet dreams?
Who would scold him for skipping his lessons?
His parents were the ones who had told him that faith was the strongest magic in the universe, that he always had to have faith no matter what.
Idia had faith that his mother would recover and that they would go back to that river as they always did, that they would have another picnic, that she would sing again and scold him for skipping his dance lessons.
“How are you going to dance at a ball if you don't learn?” - That was what she would normally ask him after giving him a scolding.
“Easy, I'll learn in the process.” - Was what Idia would answer simply, something that made his mother even more annoyed, and he knew it.
To be honest, Idia doubted that he would ever attend a ball and dance as his mother said. The Shrouds almost never appeared at events like these, and Idia had never been to one.
That was why he paid no attention or simply skipped his dancing lessons and, instead, spent his time coming up with blueprints for childish inventions.
“One day I will teach you how to dance MYSELF, and you'd better pay attention, or I'll make your father teach you how to dance. And believe me, even a goose dances better than he does.” - She threatened before ruffling his hair and returning to her work.
Now Idia hoped his mother would get better so she could fulfill that threat. He had faith that she would overcome her illness; he prayed for his mother to live.
But his faith slowly faded over the following months, during which his mother deteriorated instead of improving.
Now she could no longer get up; she lay bedridden all day while screaming in pain.
His focus changed, because now he prayed every night for his mother to stop suffering. He didn't know what her illness was, no one wanted to tell him, but it must have been very painful if it had turned the singing he loved so much into screams of agony.
His father also looked devastated; it even seemed as though he was sick as well. The blue flames of his hair had become somewhat dull, something Idia had never seen before.
Ortho constantly asked him if their mother would be okay, something Idia clearly didn't know. He couldn't see the future.
“Have faith. Haven't Mom and Dad told you that faith is the strongest magic in the universe?” - That was the only thing Idia would answer before changing the subject.
Idia had faith that his mother would stop suffering, that her dying countenance would disappear and that she would return to life.
Idia's prayers were heard, and Ortho got his answer days later, when their mother called them to say goodbye on that rainy day.
Idia never thought he could hate the rain as much as he did that day.
Ortho was the first to enter, and Idia didn't need to be in that room to know what had happened.
He couldn't go in.
He didn't want to go in.
He wasn't capable of it.
Instead, he ran in the opposite direction, ignoring his father's cry and the servants who tried to comfort him.
His legs carried him toward the greenhouse that his mother and Ortho cared for with so much effort.
If his mother left, who would happily water her flowers?
Who would take care of them?
Who would take care of Jack?
Who would take care of the animals?
Who would take care of the plants?
Who would take care of Ortho?
Who would take care of him?
His father would go back to traveling as he always did, that much was certain. His aunt would eventually have to leave, and the two of them would be left alone.
Alone.
He didn't want to be alone.
He didn't want Ortho to be alone.
He didn't want his dad to leave.
He didn't want his mom to die.
He didn't want to cry. He didn't want to say goodbye. He didn't want to feel pain.
He wanted everything to go back to the way it was before.
He wanted his mom to stay.
Tears fell from his face as quickly as the water flowed through the river they were supposed to visit as a family that day. He knew they would never do that again, and knowing it hurt.
It hurt to know that it would happen, that it wasn't up to him. He hated it. He hated not being able to do anything, he hated the sound of the rain that brought memories with it, he hated that the adults wouldn't leave him alone and only shouted his name.
He doesn't want to leave.
He doesn't want to say goodbye.
Why should he? He didn't want to say goodbye if it was something final, especially if the person he had to say goodbye to was the woman he loved the most, his mother.
He almost never said it out of shyness, out of embarrassment, but it was true. His mother, although she was the most outgoing woman he knew and everything she cooked tasted horrible, was the sweetest and kindest woman he knew.
So much so that, whenever she entered any room, she would draw attention because of her brightness, which had slowly been fading away.
Even the flowers seemed sad today, silently crying along with Idia as the sky darkened.
Who could possibly know his mother and not be sad about her departure?
Idia couldn't imagine anyone.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the little men, about the size of a wine cork, with mouse-like features, who helped take care of this greenhouse.
They watched him from afar, observing him and hesitating to approach when they saw him crying. This went on for a few minutes until a small, elderly woman approached.
“Child, aren't you going to see your mother? Everyone has been looking for you.” - Asked the elderly woman named Marja, a small woman with already-graying lilac hair and mouse-like ears and tail.
Idia already knew her; he was even a little afraid of her when she got angry, but he had never spoken with her, and it wasn't as if he wanted to talk to anyone now.
“Are you going to ignore me? What disrespect toward your elders! Everyone is worried about you, and your mother is waiting for you to say goodbye.” - She lectured him with the attitude of a grandmother.
Idia was beginning to get irritated, something that showed in the blue flames of his hair, which took on a slight reddish tint at the tips.
“I don't want to say goodbye…” - He answered in a broken whisper, something the woman clearly noticed.
“And do you think she wants to say goodbye? Do you think she wants to leave you and your brother? Do you think she wants to go?” - The questions were something Idia hadn't expected, something that made him look at Marja.
Did his mother want to leave? No, of course not. It was even ridiculous to think that, that she wanted to abandon him and Ortho, his father, her family.
“Your mother is waiting for you. Are you going to deny her last wish to say goodbye to her eldest son?” - She was direct, even somewhat curt.
Idia didn't know how to answer that.
“Why don't you want to see your mother?” - She asked, moving a little closer, demanding an answer.
Why?
“Because it hurts…” - He answered quietly, unable to finish the sentence. He turned his gaze toward a forget-me-not.
He wasn't very interested in flowers or plants, but his mother loved them for some reason; even before she became ill, she had a great variety of flowers in her room.
The room where she lay bedridden, waiting for him.
“And do you think it doesn't hurt her?” - That question sank deeper into his mind than it should have.
Marja looked at Idia's surprised and confused expression, the pain in his eyes, but continued.
“Do you think it doesn't hurt her to leave you? I know losing a mother hurts, especially when you're so young. But you have to understand that she is suffering too, both physically and mentally.” - She continued without giving Idia time to process. - “She is making a great effort because she wants to see you one last time despite the pain. Are you going to prolong that suffering?”
The worst thing about those words? They were true, and Idia hadn't even thought about it that way.
He knew his mother was suffering, that if it were up to her, she would stay, that she was enduring the pain simply because she wanted to see him.
But he hadn't thought about that.
What kind of son was he? Wasn't he the one who prayed every night for his mother to stop suffering? Why would he prolong her suffering? Why would he deny her the chance to see him one last time?
He didn't want to lose her, but he didn't want her to suffer.
Even if it hurt him.
It would hurt to lose her, but it would hurt him more to watch her suffer and continue screaming in agony every day, getting worse every second.
He looked toward the forget-me-not, that flower that was one of his mother's favorites and was always present in the bouquets his father brought her from his travels.
“Well? Are you going to see your mother, or are you going to stay here like a coward?” - Marja asked, staring intently at the boy and his clear interest in the flowers.
“C-can I take a bouquet of flowers with me?” - He asked, a slight tremor spreading throughout his body.
“Of course.” - At the elderly woman's positive response, Idia didn't hesitate and got to work with a little help from the older woman.
He clumsily made a small bouquet with his mother's favorite flowers, from daffodils to white carnations and, of course, forget-me-nots couldn't be missing.
It wasn't like the large bouquets his father gave his mother, nor was it particularly pretty, and the combination of flowers was a little strange, to be honest.
He would have liked to make a much prettier one, but he knew that didn't matter now.
“Uh… Thank you?” - He thanked Marja somewhat uncertainly before running out of the greenhouse, leaving her behind.
Idia had never run in the rain; technically, he hardly ever ran at all because of his physical condition, but at that moment, all he could feel was the cold air hitting his face.
He would undoubtedly get sick because of this, but for now, it didn't matter in the slightest. He could see his father at the entrance, holding a sleeping Ortho in his arms, with Jack nearby.
Had he really taken that long?
“Are you going to stand there in the middle of the rain? Your hair is flickering on and off at the same time; besides, you're trembling.” - His father pointed out, gesturing for him to come inside.
Just by looking at him, it was obvious how devastated he was, exhaustion consuming his entire being and tears still in his eyes. He didn't look like the man he had been just a few months ago, despite being the same man.
“Is she still upstairs?” - He looked away in embarrassment, still feeling the tears and burning in his eyes, as well as the pain in his chest.
He was beginning to believe that the pain would never go away.
“She is waiting for you. She has already said goodbye to everyone except you.” - His reddish eyes caught sight of the clumsy bouquet of flowers in Idia's hands. - “But I'm sure she'll love the flowers, especially if you chose them yourself.”
“They're just flowers…” - He answered abruptly, making his father raise an eyebrow and smile knowingly.
“They're just flowers?” - He questioned.
But before he could say anything else, Idia ran toward the stairs, leaving him with the words still on his lips.
“He's exactly like you, only with his mother's eyes.” - He heard his aunt say this to his father, but he didn't stop to listen any further.
He climbed the stairs clinging to the railing, slipping from time to time because he was soaked. His father followed him, still holding Ortho in his arms.
It didn't take him long to reach his mother's room; he stopped in front of the door for a moment. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
He glanced toward where his mother lay before entering. His mother turned to look at him, tears in her eyes.
“Could you come closer, please, Idy?” - She asked, opening her arms, and Idia didn't hesitate to throw himself into them. - “Are those flowers?”
“They're for you…” - He said quietly, giving her the bouquet while wiping away his tears.
“For me? Thank you, they're beautiful, Idy…” - She gave a genuine smile as she weakly held the bouquet in one hand.
She began to ruffle his hair, hugging him without caring that he was soaked from the rain.
His father approached, watching the two of them with a pain betrayed by his eyes. He sat in the chair beside the bed, where Idia could notice that his hands were trembling as he held Ortho.
“I want to tell you a secret…” - His mother's voice made his attention turn completely toward her.
Their amber eyes met, both equally glassy and reddened from crying so much.
“A great secret that will help you face all the trials that life puts us through… You must always remember this.” - She continued in a trembling voice, choking back whimpers of pain deep in her throat.
“What?”
“Be brave and kind.” - She said through her tears, still stroking his hair. - “You have more kindness in your little finger than many will ever possess in their entire bodies, and it has great power, more than you think, and magic.”
She fell silent for a moment, but watched Idia's reaction, breathing with difficulty yet still looking at him.
“Be brave and kind, Idy… Will you promise me?” - Her eyes shone despite the tears; they seemed to contain all the brightness they had ever held.
“I-I promise…” - He hated how his voice broke because of the pain in his chest, which felt heavy.
His mother gave him a small kiss on the crown of his head, hugging him more tightly than before, though it barely made the slightest difference.
His father hugged them both while still holding Ortho, hiding his face in his mother's hair, but you didn't have to be clever to realize he was crying.
“I love you.” - She whispered in a sigh, still wearing a gentle smile and with her eyes overflowing with that love she talked about so much.
Her grip weakened.
“We love you too…” - He managed to answer, his breathing so labored that he felt as though his heart would leap out of his body.
At those words, her face seemed more peaceful, more at ease. She began humming again as she held them, that song she sang every night as a lullaby for him and Ortho.
Lavender's blue, dilly dilly
Lavender's green
When I am king, dilly dilly
You shall be queen
Who told you so, dilly dilly?
Who told you so?
'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly
That told me so
Call up your men, dilly dilly
Set them to work
Some to the plough, dilly dilly
Some to the fork
Some to make hay, dilly dilly
Some to cut corn
While you and I, dilly dilly
Keep ourselves warm
Lavender's green, dilly dilly
Lavender's blue
If you love me, dilly dilly
I will love you
Let the birds sing, dilly dilly
And the lambs play
We shall be safe, dilly dilly
Out of harm's way
I love to dance, dilly dilly
I love to sing
When I am queen, dilly dilly
You'll be my king
Who told me so, dilly dilly?
Who told me so?
I told myself, dilly dilly
I told me so
The doctor's diagnosis finally came true. His mother passed away hours after saying goodbye to him, after receiving one last family hug along with a bouquet of her favorite flowers.
That was the last time he heard her sing.