I kept the mask of a despaired and broken lady on while observing the Pope. His calm, calculating gaze betrayed none of his inner thoughts, but I knew he was weighing his options. He had sworn to fulfill any of my wishes in his na—cornering him like this was not sothing he could easily escape. Yet, his hesitation spoke volus.
Now, Marvoni, show what you’ve got. Let’s see how far your deceit stretches.
After a prolonged silence, he sighed and finally spoke, each word deliberately chosen.
"I’m afraid, Saintess, but I cannot accept that request."
I gasped softly, lowering my gaze as if crestfallen. My hands trembled slightly in my lap, not out of true frustration, but as part of the performance. This man was even more shaless than I had anticipated.
"You must understand," he began, leaning forward slightly, his tone gentle yet firm. "You are a grown lady, and the Saint is but a boy. It would not be appropriate for you two to reside together."
I sniffled softly, refusing to et his eyes. "C-Couldn’t we at least spend ti together during the day? The High Priest rarely allows us more than a few minutes... H-He says the Saint’s schedule is too strict." My voice wavered, each word laced with vulnerability.
I stole a glance at him, watching as his lips pressed into a thin line. He was clearly searching for a way to deny without appearing cruel or unreasonable.
"If it is only during the day..." he finally conceded, his voice reluctant. "I suppose I could permit that much. I will speak with the High Priest and ensure that arrangents are made."
"Really?" I whispered, my eyes widening in hopeful disbelief.
"Yes," he nodded, though his expression remained guarded. "But it must not interfere with your duties or prayers, Saintess. You have been diligent, I trust?"
"Of course, Your Holiness," I replied with a gracious smile. "I have been doing everything expected of ."
"Good." He gave a satisfied nod, signaling the end of our conversation.
Once excused, I returned to my quarters and imdiately sent for the Saint. It wasn’t long before the child arrived, his small fra standing hesitantly at the door. I beckoned him over, patting the space beside on the bed. He climbed up, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for signs of distress.
"Are you... alright?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.
I tilted my head slightly, offering a reassuring smile. "Yes, I am. And I have good news—you and I can now spend more ti together."
His eyes widened in disbelief. "I-I can?!"
I ruffled his hair fondly. "Yes. If the High Priest tries to stop us, I’ll remind him that the Pope himself approved it."
His eyes sparkled with awe, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishnt. There was sothing deeply satisfying about protecting him, about shielding this fragile life from those who sought to control it.
"So, while we’re together," I continued, "I’ll teach you more things. And, most importantly, we’ll find a way to break your curse."
The boy’s expression faltered, fear flickering across his face. I cupped his cheek gently, ensuring he t my gaze.
"Don’t be scared," I whispered. "I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll find a way—together."
His wide, innocent eyes stared back at , filled with a trust that both comforted and unsettled . Why did my blood react so strongly to this child? It wasn’t just compassion or duty. It was sothing deeper, sothing primal. A connection I couldn’t explain.
"You guys didn’t lead to this kid for so other purpose, right?" I ntally questioned my Patrons.
[Defender of Divine Glory: This child needed help, and you were the only one capable.]
[Goddess of Wisdom: You have reached this point through your own strategies, courage, and the allies you’ve gathered.]
"Are you saying he’ll be an important ally in the future?" I pressed.
[Giver of Gifts: The child was in need, and as a *** you are the only one who could help.]
I frowned. ***? What was that? The text flickered, censored by so unseen force.
"What’s that supposed to an?" I asked, irritated by the lack of clarity.
[A system restriction prevents the Patrons from revealing certain information.]
A warning flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but grunt in frustration. The child noticed, his small face creased with worry.
"Is... sothing wrong?" he asked hesitantly.
"Nothing important," I assured him with a smile. "Now, what would you like to do today? Shall we read so books, or perhaps go to the garden?"
"Anything is fine," he replied, his voice soft but eager.
I thought back to the children of the Elves and Dwarves who used to gather around , their eyes wide with wonder as I spun tales of adventure. Their innocent joy had been a balm to my weary soul. This child, too, had that sa innocent spark—a spark I was determined to protect.
"How about a story?" I suggested, watching his eyes light up.
"A story?" he echoed, his excitent palpable. "Which one?"
"A story about a Dragon," I announced, smiling as his face lit up even more.
"A Dragon!" he exclaid, practically bouncing in his seat.
I settled in, crafting the tale in my mind. The boy, wide-eyed with anticipation, sat beside , his small hands folded neatly on his lap. "Once upon a ti," I began softly, "there was a mighty Dragon who lived high above the clouds, watching over the world below."
His gaze never left mine as I wove the story. "The Dragon was ancient and powerful, yet... curious. Every day, he looked down at the humans who inhabited the earth. He observed how they worked tirelessly, cherished ti with their loved ones, and experienced joy and sorrow. But what fascinated him most," I leaned in slightly, "was how, despite knowing their lives were fleeting, they embraced each mont fully."
The child’s lips parted in wonder. I smiled and continued, "The Dragon didn’t understand. In his immortal life, ti stretched endlessly, each day blending into the next. Why, he wondered, were these fragile beings so content, so vibrant, even in the face of inevitable death?"
A small gasp escaped from the boy. I chuckled softly. "One day, the Dragon decided to leave his lofty perch and descend to the human world. Disguised as a man, he walked among them, determined to uncover the secret of their happiness."
The child’s eyes glowed with excitent. "What happened next?" he whispered eagerly.
"Well," I said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, "the Dragon’s journey wasn’t easy. At first, he faced deception and betrayal. Humans, as kind as they could be, also had a capacity for cruelty. The Dragon, unused to such treatnt, almost gave up. But then," I paused for effect, "he t a group of kind-hearted souls. They took him in, shared their food, and offered him warmth without expecting anything in return."
The boy’s expression softened, reflecting the tender emotions the story evoked. "And that’s when the Dragon felt sothing new," I said gently. "A warmth in his chest, unlike anything he had ever known. It was... affection. Love. The very thing he had witnessed from the heavens but never understood."
As the tale unfolded, I noticed the child’s eyelids growing heavy. His head gently rested against my lap, and a soft, content sigh escaped his lips. My fingers combed through his hair, each stroke soothing and deliberate. The innocence in his face tugged at sothing deep within —a protective instinct I hadn’t expected.
I gazed down at him, lost in thought. Who were his parents? Where did he co from? A child with such potent healing abilities must hail from a distinguished lineage. If I could uncover his origins, perhaps I could return him to his rightful place, freeing him from the Temple’s grasp.
The boy’s breathing evened out, signaling his descent into slumber. I allowed myself a mont to bask in the tranquility of the scene. For now, he was safe.
Later, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he was escorted back to his quarters. Alone once more, I found solace in the quiet of my room. That was until a sharp knock echoed through the chamber. My eyes flicked toward the door, curious and cautious.
It opened to reveal Sir Asher, his expression unreadable but his posture rigid with purpose.
"Sir Asher," I greeted, my tone neutral yet polite. "Is there sothing you need?"
He hesitated for a mont, his eyes scanning the room before landing on . "You... t with His Holiness today."
I tilted my head slightly. "Yes," I confird.
His jaw clenched, tension radiating from his fra. "Did he... do anything to you?" he asked, the concern in his voice unmistakable.
"Do sothing to ?" I echoed, feigning confusion. "No. He was perfectly polite."
Asher’s gaze bore into mine, searching for any trace of deceit. When he found none, his shoulders relaxed marginally. But I could sense his lingering unease.
An idea sparked—a chance to turn this tension to my advantage.
"Sir Asher," I called softly, drawing his attention back to .
"Yes?"
"There is sothing that I need to ask you."
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