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"Aramus laughed cruelly at Ceasaria, holding his stomach. All she would ever be was replaceable." — Lovable Villainess, Chapter Seventy Four.

...

I was uncomfortably comfortable as they scrubbed the dirt and grime from my body. It had been the first time that I had bathed, I was startingly uncomfortable with the way the maids brushed my body. Their hands were soft and tender upon the flesh that had become so bruised that I mistook it for shadows. I hadn't realized that my abuse was so consistent that I hadn't given time to heal. My wounds would remain; the only ubiquitous thing in my life.

I didn't speak much, only nodding as the maids asked me useless questions about the water, the scent, and their touch.

It felt as though I was a doll and finally when placed in front of a mirror, I couldn't help but stare at the young girl. This was my reflection. I was quite beautiful, the dim attic room didn't show it. The layer of grime and filth tattered with blood made it impossible to see it, but now, I couldn't help but admire it.

My cheeks were still gaunt, a nasty bruise healing upon the top of my left cheek and my jaw held signs of abuse, meanwhile, my neck had become ingrained with my mother's last touch. A necklace that was starting to oxidize. My left eye was also red, the vessels that were supposed to be white holding crimson, and sitting between them was a beautiful gemstone of sea glass. My pink hair was long, it had taken a while for the maids to undo the knots. Yet, they had done so.

Patiently.

They had put a bow in my hair, it felt a little childish as my fingers skimmed across the soft silk of the dress. It was a child-like blue with lace and socks. My nails had been trimmed and gently painted a soft baby pink. Yet, the bruises remained. I must have looked pitiful.

"You look better," Aramus answered and behind him was Cain, who peeked his head around the corner to gaze at me.

"You look very pretty," He complimented, kneeling down to meet my vision. I realized that with his stature, he seemed to eclipse my own. I wondered how old he was. How old would he be when he was killed? I bit my lip, unable to fully say anything.

"Thank you," I answered back, politely bowing my head.

"May I hold you?" Cain inquired.

Aramus watched the two children interact. His gaze was heavy as I gave a slight nod. Cain lifted me in his arms. It was as if I didn't weigh anything at all, "The priest is here."

"Already?" I questioned.

"They took too long," Aramus answered honestly, a sigh on his face, "They don't pay taxes and take too much of my money and yet they want to play coy."

"They weren't playing coy," Cain responded, "They were startled." He adjusted my position so that I was sitting against his arm. I was comfortable. Cain had been reading about different ways to hold young children, and despite the fact that Ceasaria wasn't a baby, she was still quite short. It must have been the malnutrition and the abuse. Her sickly palor, the fact that she stumbled when she walked, the awkwardness in her gaze.

Aramus snorted, "You're right."

He was soft towards his son. The type of softness that Kalypso didn't get to have. By the time Kalypso came, the only remains of Aramus were the shell of the man that he used to be. He barely smiled, barely capitulated, and the iciness of the Duke had started to manifest in his heart. Yet, here he was lush—full of life.

"You alright?" Aramus inquired, reaching to pat the top of my tresses. Cain pivoted me out of his father's touch.

"You shouldn't touch her without her consent," Cain chastised, "She's been through a lot." He stumbled over his words, he didn't seem to want to state that I was probably traumatized. Was I? I wasn't even sure. I wasn't sure what I felt anymore. The hollowness of my acclimation to this body had finally hit. I knew that I was Ceasaria, but did this mean, I would have to feel this awful numbness until I died?

Aramus coughed, "Sorry."

I shook my head, "It's alright. I was just going to ask, how old are you?" I looked at Cain.

"I just turned fourteen," Cain answered. He was quite tall for his age, or perhaps, I was small. He pinched my cheeks, tenderly nipping my skin, "Was there a time I was this small?" He asked, turning to Aramus.

"When you were a newborn."

"Are you being serious?"

"Perfectly," Aramus answered as he opened the door.

Inside was Mina, she was sitting with a man in all white. Someone that I assumed was the priest. His hair was the same color as his robes, long and flowy, held together by a lilac ribbon. He was beautiful, almost glowing within the light of the setting sun. His blue eyes were soft when staring at Mina—his expression tender and Aramus tightened his jaw ever so slightly, "Duke Valentine, the Little Duke, and the Young Lady." He bowed his head.

Mina stood up, brushing some hair from her face. She was beautiful. I realized it when I first saw her. She was a small piece of heaven in the form of a woman; she held a type of beauty that was found in glimpses of statues. Her hair was like ebony, a sheet of onyx that fell down her shoulders, and her eyes were a deep brown, almost rivaling the timber of wood. Her face was usually quite sordid, but there was a smile on her face when she saw me. A glacial type of beauty, I wondered if this priest was interested in her.

"Mina," Aramus ushered, and the young girl walked over to the Duke, standing in his shadow as she always did.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I answered, "You can call me Ceasaria."

He smiled at me, "My name is Eden."

"Heal her," Aramus answered, his voice firm. "I didn't think that you would be the one that decided to come."

"I heard that it was an injury that required," he paused, almost hesitating because I was here, "My strengths."

He must have been stronger than most priests. He smiled at me, approaching me with a tender gaze. Eden was his name. I hadn't expected to see the priest so soon.

"Would you mind setting her down?"

"You should ask her," Cain said, gazing at me. It felt strange. As if he was trying to give me back my autonomy piece by piece. The parts of me that had been ravaged by my birth mother and given to her as a sacrifice were slowly being pieced back together by Cain.

Eden looked somewhat surprised but he chuckled, "You're right. Ceasaria," he paused, "Would you mind coming down so I could inspect you?" He asked politely.

I nodded and Cain set me down on the ground.