Lament for My First Life

A So-Called Family Outing

Morning sunlight spilled through the tall arched windows of the Winter estate's grand hall, warming the marble floors and softening the tension that hung in the air. Lady Varra stood beside her husband, Lord Varra, the weight of her perfection heavy in her posture, her chin held high, her gown a deep wine red, her curls pinned just so. In her arms, she cradled baby Marinel, who cooed and fidgeted restlessly.

Across the room, seated in his chair by the hearth, Lord Winter sipped his tea quietly, his gaze unreadable.

"Father," Lord Varra began, bowing slightly, his voice dripping with practiced charm, "we'd like to take little Xylenne on a family outing. A pleasant day at the park, perhaps a picnic, and then we could all watch the sunset by the shore together. It'll be good for her, to bond with her future family."

Lord Winter sighed, his expression tired. "I'm not sure Xylenne would like that. She just had a tantrum yesterday, and she's been quite difficult lately."

Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open. Zephyros entered the room quietly, his ink-stained hands holding a notebook, his dark hair even messier than usual. He didn't spare his brother a glance as he crossed to the fireplace and reached up for a book on the high shelf. "Zephyros," Lord Winter said, setting his cup down. "Do you mind convincing Xylenne to spend a day with the Varras? It might ease some of the tension. She should get to know them better." Zephyros froze for a moment, his hand resting on the spine of a book. "I don't think she'd like that, Father. You know how stubborn she is."

Lord Varra's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Just do it, Zephyros. It'll be the first useful thing you've ever done for the family."

The room went still. Zephyros turned his head slowly, his sharp eyes cutting across the room like a blade. "Shut your mouth," he said coldly.

"Zephyros," Lord Winter warned softly. "Please. Could you at least try?" Zephyros inhaled, holding the book tightly in his hands, before letting out a heavy sigh. "Fine," he muttered, turning to leave the room without another word.

As the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, baby Marinel began to cry, a sharp, high-pitched wail that made Lady Varra's perfect composure falter for a brief moment.

"Oh, darling, what's wrong?" she whispered hurriedly, bouncing the baby in her arms, her voice trembling with irritation more than affection.

Lord Winter rose slowly from his chair and held out his hands. "Let me see little Marinel here," he said gently. Lady Varra hesitated before handing the baby over. Lord Winter cradled Marinel carefully, smiling down at her. "Such a cute little thing," he said softly. "She's going to look just like you, Lady Varra." Lady Varra's lips curved into a satisfied smile as she brushed an invisible speck of dust from her gown. "That's very kind of you, my lord."

Lord Varra chuckled, placing a hand proudly on his wife's shoulder. "Yes, she'll be as beautiful as her mother." The fire crackled softly in the hearth as they all admired the baby, their voices calm and sweet, their eyes glimmering with hidden motives.

Outside the door, unseen, Zephyros stood in the corridor, book in hand, his jaw tight, listening to their laughter echo through the hall.

He turned away, expression heavy with something between anger and sorrow, and walked off down the dim corridor without a word.