The Tyrant's Pet

"I'm back, Bean."

The room was just like the way it was before. Empty. There was only a bed, a few stands, one antique cabinet, a rocking chair, and an armchair in front of it. Aries looked around and noticed it was also rather clean, aside from the several bottles and cups scattered on the floor. There were no layers of dust in sight.

She dragged her feet inside, leaving the door slightly ajar. Aries stopped in front of the empty bottle of wine and cups on the floor.

"How dare he comes in here…?" she whispered, kicking the bottle which rolled near the armchair before she stood beside the rocking chair. "How dare he act this is his safe haven when this place is my hell?"

Her eyes softened with bitterness as she caressed the rocking chair with her fingertips. In this chair, she had lulled her child day in and out, sharing anything she could with the little life within her, and patiently waited for the day she would meet her child. But Joaquin's temper wasn't long enough for her child's arrival.

In this very room, its walls had witnessed everything since the day Joaquin locked her inside. How he had tormented her, how she got Bean, how she lost her child and everything that came after that. She hated this room, and she wished it never existed, but she didn't have the courage to burn it even if she had the means now.

"How can I burn it when this room is the only place who knows about you, Bean?" Her jaw tightened as a tension built in her throat, eyes on the rocking chair. "Even if these walls had witnessed more than it should, at least it remembers you… because your mother cannot."

Because at one point, Aries had almost forgotten about that child's life. She wanted to so she could move forward. But this room would forever remember her lullabies and the miraculous love that was created amidst the reign of evil. So even if she erased that painful memory, someone or something would forever remember her child.

And this room was that. The walls that see everything unfold for the worst were the one and only witness her child existed.

Aries smiled bitterly before she carefully sat down on the rocking chair. She turned her head to the shut window but didn't have the strength to get up and open it to enjoy some fresh air like she used to do. When she leaned back comfortably, she started rocking the chair, eyes on the window.

A muffled hum came out from her closed lips, which soon resonated and bounced across each corner of the chamber. She hummed the tune she used to hum to her child, revisiting all those times she hummed with her hand on her tummy, caressing it with gentleness and affection despite the fact that the hands that would hold Aries every single night were rough and strong.

Sometimes, a thought would cross her. That perhaps the reason she lost her child even before he was born was that this world scared him. And it was better if he didn't see it or be a part of it. Yet a small part of her brain clashed with this thought and would argue he wanted to, but Joaquin took that away from him.

Either way, what was done was done and she couldn't change what had already happened.

"I said… five days." Her hums gradually subsided as she spoke, noticing a figure by the door. When she turned her head, her eyes instantly landed on Abel. He was leaning against the jamb of the door with his arms folded under his chest. His bright green hair as refreshing as a meadow wasn't neatly brushed back like usual, but instead, it was let down that reached over his temple and brows like how it was after a bath.

"I was drawn to the sound of your humming." He sported a short smile, peeling his shoulder away from the jamb, and marched towards her. "It was lovely."

Abel stopped in the middle of the room while Aries gazed at him from head to toe. The side of her lips curled up into a weak smile and then gazed back at the window.

"It's a lullaby I used to sing while Alaric plays the piano," she explained in a soft voice. "I used to sing it whenever she sneaks into my chamber, hugging her stuffed bunny, asking me if she can sleep with me."

"Alaric always has nightmares and she only sleeps peacefully if I lull her to sleep," Aries continued, eyes still on the window. "She often says that song chases her bad dreams and fears away. I used to laugh it off, but then that song saved me from taking an innocent life that was growing within me in the past. Yet in the end, I can't save him, my baby… I still failed him."

There was a moment of silence in the room before Aries added. "Now that I think about it, you never asked me about this." She slowly snapped her eyes and set them back to him.

"Knowing my past… you were never curious whether I was impregnated or already had a child I'm just not telling you about. Will you tell me the reason? Your Majesty?" she asked in the same gentle voice, staring at him straight in the eye. "Why hadn't you mentioned anything about it?"

Abel simply gazed back at her in silence and then advanced in her direction. Stopping beside the rocking chair where she was sitting, he reached for her bandaged hand and carefully unwrapped it.

"Was filling my curious worth upsetting you?" he returned her gaze while unwrapping her hand slowly.

"You enjoyed riling up my feelings by mentioning the downfall of Rikhill, calling us foolish.

"But a mother's pain is a different case," he argued in a quiet voice, squatting down on her side, eyes up at her. "Their unconditional love is something to admire and not laugh at... I believe."

Aries laughed weakly as she cupped his cheek. "How can you speak a mother's pain is different with such certainty?"

"Humans," he held the back of her hand that was on his cheek and leaned it against her palm. "I just know the appalling nature of humans, darling. Therefore, I can speak with certainty."