Wife of Vladimir ||Book One||

Her Support

"Before this moment, the only experience I had of dealing with the death of a loved one was my mother. As I mentioned before, I don't remember what it was like to lose my mother. I hadn't understood what death was back then, thus keeping me from feeling any overwhelming emotions.

This was different.

I was a grown man now that completely understood death. I had seen death plague and torture Translyvania for the last year. I had helped many of the servants mourn as they experienced death in their own lives. I had attended many funerals and had witnessed the families weeping in their loss. There was no hiding from the truth any longer.

My fingers fell away from Rosetta's as I attempted to take in what had just been said to me. My eyes were focused on the servant's face but my mind was far from this moment. I could see the man's lips moving, yet no words were audible to me. The world was growing blurry and I wasn't sure if it was because I was bound to collapse in shock or if the tears were already building in my eyes. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Father was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to be awaiting Rosetta and I with open arms and a wide smile. He was supposed to be able to meet my wife, to meet the woman that had changed everything in seconds. I was supposed to tell him about King Henry and the cruel ways of Invea. Our futures flickered before my eyes and I found more things to think about. Father was supposed to be around when Rosetta and I eventually had our children. He was supposed to be a grandfather. I wasn't done learning from him yet. I wasn't ready to be without him.

'You lie,' I whispered to the servant, unable to comprehend what had been said. I had seen my father the day before. He hadn't been well, but he hadn't been on death's door. I had seen many people right before they passed and there were many signs. My father hadn't shown any. A stinging grew in my shaking chest as a theory came upon me. Had my father always been this close to death, but had been waiting until he was sure I wasn't alone anymore to pass on?

I knew the servant wouldn't lie about something so serious and my father wasn't the kind to joke around about death. Given the amount of pain I felt, I knew it wasn't a dream. This was real.

The servant's eyes didn't pull away from mine, instead leaking a single tear down his cheek. 'I'm sorry, Vladimir.' He said quietly, his voice betraying his otherwise calm demeanor. It trembled and cracked as much as my own wanted to.

I began to shake my head, trying to cling to the hope that it was all made up. Forgetting Rosetta and Franklin were directly beside me, along with the other servants, I began to run through the familiar halls and stairways to his room. I wanted to see it for myself.

As I ran, I tried to picture my father lying peacefully in his bed. I pictured him propped up, hands folded across his waist as he smiled at me. I pictured him teasing me for crying over him, saying something among the lines of he could never pass without saying goodbye to me first.

The memories circled my head and I could hear his voice clearly. It was as though he was directly behind me, calling to me, but I knew it to be fake. The little hope I had that it was some cruel joke shrunk with every mourning servant I passed on my way to father's room.

In the back of my mind, I could see his smile. I could hear his laugh echoing around me, picturing how his eyes would light up when he was proud or joyful. I hadn't seen that face in months, given how I had disobeyed him when it came to finding a wife. I hadn't been ready. While it guilted me as it robbed me of recalling when the last time he had been proud of me, I knew it had been the right thing.

I stumbled towards his door as I grew closer, trying to ignore the amount of servants that were gathered directly outside as if they had been expecting me. They stepped aside, allowing me to close in at the door. With a shaking hand, I grabbed the handle. I briefly locked eyes on a woman beside me.