Ancillary

⁰¹ ✦ Place Called Home ✦

Gentle clink of Enica's knife and fork against her porcelain plate was the only sound in the grand, hollow dining hall.

She watched the silver utensils scrape across her half-eaten slice of beef, their movements mechanical, hollow.

Across the long, candlelit table sat her father, King Alistair, hunched over his plate, his head bowed.
The candlelight cast shadows across his weary face, illuminating the deep lines etched around his eyes and mouth.
She stole a glance at him, noticing how his tired, bloodshot eyes looked even redder tonight.

It was her eighteenth birthday, but the weight of the day was marked by another occasion-one that hung over both of them like a cloud.

It was the anniversary of her mother's death, the day her life had ended as Enica's began.

Her birth had claimed her mother's life, and though no one had ever spoken those words to her, she felt them in every cold glance, in every silent moment.

She looked down, feeling the familiar, gnawing sense of guilt rise within her.

Her birthday was a day of sorrow, not celebration-a day when the palace's halls seemed emptier and her father went quieter.

This wasn't how she wanted it to be. She longed for a family, for warmth. But all she had was her father's silence, the cold walls of the palace, and the burden of a death that haunted them both.

Across the table, she heard her father take a breath, his voice quiet, a murmur more than a statement.

"I'm... sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable,"

he said, his tone awkward, as if the words themselves were strange and unfamiliar on his tongue.

His eyes remained downcast, and Enica sensed his guilt, the weight of the apology almost painful for him to bear.

"Father,"

she replied softly, forcing a smile, one that she hoped would reassure him.

"Please, don't worry. I'm just... grateful that we could share this meal tonight."

Her voice was gentle, though the words felt hollow.

She'd long since stopped expecting warmth from him.
Instead, she'd come to accept this ghostly connection, the shared glances and polite exchanges that stood in for the love they couldn't quite manage.

He looked up, offering her a tired smile in return, though his eyes betrayed the sorrow he tried to hide.

"You're a good daughter, Enica,"

he said, his voice distant, almost hollow. She wanted to believe he meant it, that beneath his sadness he loved her.

But she knew the words came from a sense of duty rather than warmth.

As they ate in silence, she felt the walls of the dining hall press in around her, heavy with memories of laughter and light she'd never known.
Her mother's portraits lined the walls, gazing down at her with kind, gentle eyes, a woman she could only know through others' memories.

Her father had become a ghost in this palace, moving from room to room in quiet, dignified grief, a man encased in ice. She looked at him, feeling as though he was a million miles away, unreachable.

After a long silence, he cleared his throat, his tone formal.
"I'll be leaving tonight,"
he announced quietly.

"A diplomatic mission to the neighboring kingdoms. It will take some time-a month, perhaps. I hope you understand."

She felt sadness but nodded, knowing she couldn't ask for more than he was willing to give.

"I understand, Father,"
she murmured, her voice steady.

"I'll wait for you patiently."

He looked at her, his expression softening, almost as if he wanted to reach out to her.

"Is there anything you'd like me to bring?"

he asked, and she could hear the faint hesitation in his voice.
It was his way of showing he cared, of trying to bridge the vastness that lay between them.

Enica paused, searching for something simple, something that might feel like a connection.

"If it's not too much,"

she began hesitantly,
"I'd love to hear about your journey when you return. Your stories... would mean so much for me."

He stilled, his face darkening, his gaze dropping to the table.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Enica," he replied, his tone closing off. "It's a confidential mission."

The words stung, and she forced herself to nod, hiding the disappointment she felt.
She looked down, her hands folded in her lap, 
The small hope she'd held, the idea of a simple story shared between them, faded like the dying light in the room.

He rose suddenly, as if eager to leave, his chair scraping against the marble floor. "Goodnight,"
he murmured, his tone detached, distant.

"And... happy birthday."

With a final glance, he turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the cold, empty hall.

Enica watched him go, the warmth of his presence vanishing as the door closed behind him, leaving her alone in the vast dining hall.

She looked around at the high, arched ceilings, the flickering chandeliers, and the empty seats that stretched down the table. The silence settled over her, thick and heavy, like a weight pressing on her chest.

She looked down at her reflection in the polished silver goblet, catching a glimpse of her mother's face in her own-the same auburn hair, the same gentle features. She hated that resemblance, knowing it was a painful reminder for her father.

It was why she'd grown her hair long, hoping to hide her face behind it, as if that might make it easier for him to look at her.

The palace was beautiful, but to Enica, it felt like a gilded cage.

She spent her days wandering its vast, empty corridors, feeling more like a prisoner than a princess.
The world outside was nothing more than a distant dream, something she could only glimpse through her bedroom window.

She longed for the warmth of a real family, but all she had was the cold emptiness of the palace, the hollow memories of a mother she never knew, and a father who loved her only in duty.

As she sat alone, Enica felt the loneliness settle deep within her, wrapping around her like a shadow that stretched out into eternity.
She imagined herself far away, in the forests she'd only heard about in stories, running free under the open sky. But here, in the silent, echoing hall, she was bound to a life that felt as empty and endless as the palace walls.

And on her eighteenth birthday, she realized that this was all she would ever know-the cold, distant love of a grieving father, and the suffocating weight of a life lived in the shadows of a family that was gone.

Well Hello thereee!
This is my very first time writing, I'm really grateful if you read this far already :')