Sigewinne's dare || Wriothesley x F!Y/N

Chapter 13 - Hold me dearly.

"𝚈𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐." - 𝒴/𝒩

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

I'ʅʅ ԃɾσρ ƚԋҽ αƈƚ ϝσɾ ყσυ. - Sιɠҽɯιɳɳҽ POV.

I felt Wriothesley's hand scrape up my back to gently hold me in place. I could feel his tears beginning to flow down and wet my hair. I didn't mind, I wanted him to know he was safe arms - even if it was his daughter's arms; as long as it made him comfortable.

I don't think I've ever seen him cry and if I had, never like this. He shouldn't be ashamed of such actions; people cry not because they're weak but because they've been strong for too long. Everyone has a chapter in their life where they can't read it out loud. I feel like Wriothesley is going through this.

It was silence until his voice muttered something silently, "I'm..." He chocked up on his words, "Sorry Sigewinne..." His features pressed closer into my hair, attempting to quietly seek comfort.

I like smart people, but I also like playing dumb. I like the feeling of "being trusted". Wriothesley taught me about trust and to be cautious with it. At any given moment, the one person you love the most could turn around and stab you. It's that simple. Maybe I could drop that act for Wriothesley... I wasn't the smartest kid but I wasn't as stupid as a lot of people made me out to be.

Sometimes you think you want to disappear but really, you just want to be found.

My face emerged closer into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly as I tired to press my love and warmth into his cold small heart. "It's okay papa..." I whispered softly.

I felt his chin slid onto the top of my head. One of his hands released from his back and drew towards his face. I could see him in the corner of my eyes. I noticed the way his eyes scanned over his scars.

Each scar he wore showed a completely different story behind them. People in this generation were pathetic... People from across the road would point and stare at him. Yes, he had some concerning scars. The ones that ran up his neck were deep and long - you would consider him lucky from surviving whatever gave him them.

But, that was no excuse to mock him. You do not mock my father, my dad. The scars just proved he had won his battle. I still don't know what exactly happened but it must have been something bad and, I'm proud that he won the fight and is still standing to this day. What would I be without him?

A lonely orphan still trying to seek warmth and love from her dead parents.

He gave me life.

I will return the favour.

His face was still sad as his eyes examined each line and bump. Something was happening to him, where was his usual teasing attitude? I slowly spoke up, "Your skin without scars would be like the sky without stars... empty and boring. They make you. They show the battle that you won. The stories you now hold to your name. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

I felt a soft chuckle come out of his chest, "How old are you again... you're five," He sighed, gently kissing my forehead. "But I swear you just pull out some of the hardest hitting words out of nowhere. Where did you learn this?"

"..Books," I giggled, kissing his forehead back to share the family love.

"Alrighty smarty pants..." He now wore a small smile. It wasn't much but it made relief flush over me. "Sorry for getting you into this. It's not a big deal. It doesn't matter." He looked away.

"If it makes you cry... it still matters."