Catherine stood quietly beside Valeris and Veyra in the outer hall, her arms crossed, her gaze distant. The doors had shut behind them with a finality none of them comnted on. The marble corridor was silent, save for the faint rustling of wind brushing through a narrow window slit.
None of them spoke at first.
It wasn't out of awkwardness—but out of respect.
They all felt it.
A shift in the air. The gravity of sothing unspoken.
Not a storm.
Not a scream.
But sothing real.
Sothing raw.
Veyra broke the silence with a quiet sigh. "He needed that. To be alone. Even if just once."
Catherine didn't look at them. Her eyes were still on the closed doors, but her voice was low, thoughtful. "He never let anyone see him like that before."
Valeris nodded. "He never let himself feel like that before. Not fully."
And yet, as the minutes passed, there were no sounds from behind the great oak doors. No footsteps. No shifting aura. No trembling voice.
Only stillness.
As if Asher had vanished into mist.
Catherine finally turned, brushing so of her raven hair over her shoulder. "He's always been like this. He shows no weakness. Not even when he's bleeding. Not even when he's dying."
Valeris gave a small, sad smile. "He hates showing it. As if any crack would make him… less."
"But it never does," Veyra added quietly. "It makes him more."
Still, they didn't go back.
They didn't knock.
They didn't intrude.
Because they understood—as Catherine did—that for Asher Magnus, allowing even that mont of vulnerability was as rare as an eclipse.
And for soone like him, that was enough.
So they left him that space. That quiet. That dignity.
Even if it made it seem like he was never there at all.
By the ti the evening sun poured golden light into the long corridor, it was as if he had never broken down. The aura of the courtyard settled. The walls stood unchanged. And the world continued spinning.
As if nothing had happened.
Because that was how Asher lived.
As if pain was just a passing shadow.
And as if no one needed to know he ever felt it.
That thought pained them.
They wanted him to rely on them—to lean on them, to know he didn't have to carry it all alone. But they also knew they couldn't change him overnight. Asher had spent years building walls taller than mountains. Even now, when his defenses faltered or his emotions cracked just a little, it was only for a fleeting mont. There was still a long way to go.
So, for now, they waited.
And when the silence finally broke, it was Asher's voice—calm, slightly hoarse, but steady—that called out from the doorway.
"What are you all standing there for? Co in already. Emily's making lunch."
He even smirked slightly as the scent of spices and freshly baked bread drifted through the air, softening the mood like sunlight parting clouds.
And just like that, everything felt a little more normal again.
Valeris was the first to smile back, brushing her hair behind one ear. "You say that like we weren't standing here worrying."
"I didn't ask you to worry," Asher replied, his tone dry but not cold. "Besides, you both should know by now—I don't break that easily."
Veyra rolled her eyes gently. "No, you don't break. You just bury everything under that damned calm of yours."
"Isn't that what leaders do?" he said lightly, stepping aside to let them in. But as they passed, his gaze lingered on both of them—noticing the subtle fatigue in their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. He realized then that the weight he carried… wasn't just his own anymore.
The grand hall of the mansion had been ward by the aroma of spices and a faint crackling fire. Emily, still nimble despite her years, was placing plates onto the long dining table. She looked up with a smile the mont they entered.
"Lunch is ready," she said cheerfully, wiping her hands on a towel. "And none of that skipping als nonsense, young master."
Asher chuckled softly. "You really haven't changed."
"I have," Emily said with a wink. "I've just perfected my stubbornness. And who knows how many more daughters-in-law I'll end up with now that the magnificent Asher is back." She gave him a sly grin, glancing at Valeris and Veyra. Then, with a tilt of her head toward the balcony above, she added, "And now there's Catherine too, hmm? Looks like your little family is growing faster than I expected."
Veyra laughed under her breath, while Valeris smirked knowingly. Even Catherine, listening from above, raised an eyebrow in amused silence. Asher gave an exasperated groan, but didn't deny it.
Emily wasn't finished.
"Of course, there's still Freya. And who knows how many girls you chard back during your academy days? You always were a magnet for trouble—and pretty faces."
That earned her a full laugh from Valeris and a snort from Veyra. Catherine rely rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
Asher shook his head, muttering, "Remind to never let you talk to the press."
They sat around the table—Asher, Valeris, Veyra, and Emily—while Catherine continued to observe from above.
Catherine didn't join them at the table, but she was part of it now. One of them. She had watched Asher live like this for months—driven, cold, expressionless. Like he'd built a wall around his soul and forgotten how to live within it. Seeing him here again, surrounded by warmth and people who truly knew him, sothing in her chest eased.
She had missed this. Missed him.
Asher glanced up at her once, his expression softening for a fleeting second. He said nothing.
She nodded back, the gesture quiet but full of understanding.
Later, after the al and idle conversation, Asher quietly excused himself and stepped into the rear garden.
Catherine was already waiting there beneath the moonlit branches, leaning casually against the old marble railing. She turned slightly at the sound of his approach.
"I told you," she said softly, crimson eyes glinting. "I ant it. I will be yours."
Asher stood still for a mont, watching her. Then, without another word, he stepped forward. She lifted her chin in silent offering, and his fingers gently brushed aside her hair.
There, at the curve of her neck, a faint pulse beat—steady, confident.
"Let belong to you," she whispered, voice low and trembling, "not just in words—but in blood."
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