Close ( III )

Aristele was on his way back to see his sister when he saw a woman that resembled his late mother. She was close, but not quite Verena. It surprised him—startled to see a woman that he only observed in hidden portraits rise from the dead, but alas, it wasn't her. 

"Aristele!" Cordelia exclaimed, her hands flying to her lips, she looked awed as she tried to hug him. Quickly, Rowan stood in the way. 

"I apologize, My Lady, but please address him as Crown Prince." 

The tender soft expression quickly twisted into one of indignation, "And who are you to declare that I, Countess Vonright—" 

"You're Aunt Cordelia," Aristele interjected, somewhat surprised to see her outside of the castle. Aristele hadn't seen her in his life, although, the similar hue in hair should have alerted him into believing that they were family. It was such a tender wound that he was nursing. He didn't know how to react to it; family.