Fallen General's Omega (BL)-Chapter 229: A glimpse in the past 4

Forty-three years ago

The afternoon sun casts a golden glow over the grand library, its tall windows allowing beams of soft light to spill onto the polished marble floors. The faint scent of aged parchment mingles with the fragrance of fresh flowers arranged meticulously in every corner. The room is a quiet haven amidst the chaos of court life, and for once, there is peace.

I watch from a discreet corner as Princess Mirelle sits curled up on a velvet chaise, her slender fingers gently turning the pages of an old book. She’s always been a contradiction—famous for her scandals and rebellious streak, yet often content in moments like this, lost in the world of stories. Most of her mischief, I know, is simply to spite Concubine Danielle, a subtle rebellion against a mother who has never truly loved her. But here, in the stillness of the library, Mirelle is simply herself—a young woman seeking escape.

Her raven-black hair cascades down her back, shimmering like silk under the soft light. She has her mother’s beauty—there’s no denying that—but where Danielle’s allure is sharp and calculating, Mirelle’s is warm, effortless, and genuine. Her emerald eyes, often mischievous or defiant, now hold a distant, thoughtful gaze as she stares out the window, lost in her own musings.

"Joan," she calls softly, pulling me from my thoughts. Her voice, always melodic, is quieter now, almost wistful. "Do you think true mates exist? Someone meant for you?"

I blink, surprised by the question. It’s not often Mirelle speaks of such things. I glance at her, noticing how she isn’t really looking at me but at something far beyond the garden view. There’s a longing in her expression that tugs at my heart.

"I don’t know, Your Highness," I answer honestly. Love, destiny—these are luxuries I’ve never had the chance to ponder. But I see the yearning in her eyes, and I know she isn’t really seeking my answer, just voicing the question that lingers in her soul.

"I think they do," she says softly, almost to herself. "They have to."

Her words hang in the air, delicate and fragile. I hesitate before asking, "Do you want a true mate, Princess?"

She pauses, her fingers tracing the edges of the page she’s forgotten to turn. "Uhm... yeah... well, a little," she admits, her voice soft, almost embarrassed.

A small smile tugs at my lips. "Really? What would he be like? A duke? A royal?"

Mirelle chuckles, shaking her head. "Nah," she says with a dreamy sigh. "I would prefer if he was a commoner... or something. Maybe a knight or a stable boy."

I raise an eyebrow, amused. "A stable boy? Truly, Your Highness?"

She grins, but there’s a wistfulness in her eyes. "Yes. We’d run away together, leave all this behind. We’d settle in a tiny village somewhere far away from the palace. Maybe have a child... maybe two. I’d shower them with love every single day."

Her voice grows quieter, almost fragile, as she continues. "I’d work as a local healer or a farmer, you know? With my abilities, it wouldn’t be too hard. I think... I think I’d be happy..."

Her last words are so soft they almost break my heart. There’s a vulnerability in her tone that she rarely shows, a longing for something simple, something real. Something she knows she can never have.

"That sounds amazing," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

"Right?" she whispers back, offering me a small, sad smile. "But... well... since I’ll be married off anyway, I guess I should just hope my future husband will at least be nice to me."

I open my mouth to say something—anything to comfort her—but a soft knock at the door interrupts the moment. Mirelle straightens up, and I instinctively step back, blending into the shadows. It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years—to be present but invisible when needed. I don’t trust leaving Mirelle alone with most people, and I have good reason.

The door opens slowly, and Prince Adrian steps in. Tall and imposing, with the same raven-black hair and sharp features as Mirelle, he commands attention effortlessly. But while Mirelle’s presence is light and lively, Adrian’s is dark and brooding. His deep brown eyes flicker with something unreadable as he steps into the room. freeweɓnøvel.com

"Brother," Mirelle greets him, her face lighting up instantly with a genuine smile. Despite everything, she loves him. She always has.

"Mirelle," Adrian responds, pulling her into a hug. I watch silently from my corner, noting how long he holds her. Too long.

They exchange pleasantries, engaging in idle small talk about court gossip and their mother’s latest whims. But then Adrian’s tone shifts, becoming more serious.

"So," he begins, his eyes sharp and calculating, "I have someone I’d like to introduce you to. Duke Veyron."

Mirelle blinks, confused. "But... isn’t Duke Veyron like... eighty?"

Adrian chuckles softly. "No. He passed away recently. His heir has taken over the title."

"Oh," Mirelle responds flatly, her face carefully composed. But I know her well enough to see the unease flickering in her eyes. The heir—regardless of who he is—would be at least twenty-five. Too old for Mirelle, who is barely seventeen. It makes my stomach churn, but I hold my tongue. Speaking out of turn won’t help her.

Adrian leans forward, his expression growing more intense. "You know Tarian has most of the nobles on his side, and the Remiros have decided to remain neutral. All I have is Mother’s maternal family and their connections. But if you and Veyron hit it off, Mirelle... it would mean everything to me."

His words are gentle, but there’s no mistaking the pressure behind them. It isn’t a suggestion. It’s an expectation.

Mirelle’s smile falters for the briefest moment, but she recovers quickly. "Sure," she says softly, her voice void of enthusiasm. "I’ll meet him."

I see the silent resignation in her eyes, and it breaks my heart. Whatever the future may be, I promise to always be there for her, and I will fight for her regardless of the consequences.