Winter Bud - Chapter 23

It was only natural. No one could have imagined that such a small child would leave the world in that way. Freya had been born prematurely, a tiny baby. And yet she had such a will to live. Her bright, shining eyes had been so strong and brave.

Her plump little lips that parted to suckle at Nanna’s breast, the way her tiny hands gripped her tightly…. She had been such a vigorous baby. So everyone believed Freya would live a long life. Slan had said so himself. And we all believed it.

“Freya will live until her hair turns white, Mommy. Right? You think so too, don’t you?”

Looking at his little sister, red and wheezing, Slan had smiled bravely instead of crying. So surely Freya would have been fine. If only she hadn’t left like that, truly…. Nanna propped her chin in her hand, curling up her body.

Freya, who had been crouched down beside her like a little snowman, slowly came closer. Her sky-blue, glass-like eyes stared straight into hers.

‘You came because you were worried about me, Mommy?’

The daughter who had been as tiny as a dandelion seed had truly become one. In the drawings Slan made, the seed-like child drifted on the wind, traveling all over the world. Nanna had hugged that picture, crying and laughing over and over. Then she worried. Could such a tiny child really travel this harsh world alone? Wouldn’t some accident befall her? Those fears….

‘Mommy is so foolish, right?’

‘No.’

‘But it’s fine. Mommy’s fine.’

Nanna gave a faint smile. Because a mother was always foolish. Because she was always such a pitiful person… so it didn’t matter. By now, Nanna didn’t expect anything from her young daughter who had left the world. She was too little and fragile to even be asked to watch over the family from heaven. There was nothing she could ask of her.

So even if only in a dream, just once. Even if her slow, toddling steps meant she couldn’t be seen often. Nanna thought it would be enough to see her in dreams.

‘I’m sorry.’

Tears welled up. The smile she had forced crumbled. A tiny hand brushed her wet cheek. Nanna closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again. Her blurred vision collapsed, and an unexpected figure filled her sight.

“Freya….”

Her lips mouthed the name helplessly. Nanna stared blankly ahead, dazed. A man sat with long legs crossed, his piercing eyes fixed on her through the dark. Trembling, Nanna pressed against the bed to rise. A wave of dizziness crashed over her. She closed her eyes, struggling for breath, and turned her head.

“…I didn’t think you’d still be clinging to that dead child.”

His crooked voice was indifferent. Nanna realized that the ‘dead child’ he spoke of was Freya, and her blood ran cold. Of course, the Emperor had always called Freya ‘that child.’ He rarely mentioned her at all, but if he did, it was always ‘that child’ or ‘the dead child.’

It wasn’t untrue, and yet it scraped her raw inside. The indifference of it made her resentful, made her ache with grief. It enraged her, though there was nothing she could do. No, because she was powerless, so all she could do was break down and cry.

“Do you resent me?”

“…No.”

Nanna shook her head, lowering her gaze. Tears blurred her sight as she stared at the floor. Her chest ached worse than the fog in her eyes.

He often asked her that. Do you resent me? Nanna never understood the meaning behind the question. She could only press her lips shut and curl up before the memorial tablet that honored her child.

He was right. It wasn’t wrong. The Emperor was indifferent, but he never abused the children, never shouted cruel words at them. He was simply indifferent. When it came to securing heirs, he had been passionate to the point of violence in pressing himself on Nanna. But once the children were born, his indifference returned. As soon as Nanna’s belly swelled, his interest faded.

At times, his face looked weary, as though she tired him. And on top of that, Freya had been a girl. The ‘second girl,’ as he called her, was nothing more than cute in her ways, with no real use. Still, Nanna had been happy to hear even that. Because at least in his eyes, the child seemed lovely… so she had smiled faintly.

Would Freya’s worth have been any different if that was all it amounted to? What harm was there if her value was only that? Nanna only wished Freya could have lived a long life. She only wanted her to grow into a healthy, happy adult. If that could have been, she would have asked for nothing more. But Freya died. And her father didn’t cry.

Throughout the funeral, he didn’t shed a single tear. He only glanced briefly at Nanna, sitting alone before the memorial tablet, before walking away. He wore mourning clothes for exactly one day, then returned to state affairs. He said he would bury Freya’s remains not far from the imperial palace.

Among the dense fir trees, near the orchard where white buds of hollyhocks, mallows, climbing roses, and cherry trees bloomed along the stone path… that was where he said she would be buried.

“It’s not far from my hunting forest.”

“But….”

“She’s too young to be buried in La Ahlem.”

‘La Ahlem’ was the forest where only the direct descendants of the imperial family could be laid to rest. It was part of the vast northern territory of Kochsart, the ancestral domain of House Enroy. For generations, the direct line of the imperial family had been buried there. Emperors, empresses, and even the imperial children who had died young. It was their custom, practiced long before they became the imperial family of the Empire. So why couldn’t Freya be buried there?

Why should she alone be left to rest near an orchard? Nanna looked at him with wet eyes. He said it was because she was too young. Nanna’s lips moved soundlessly. Wouldn’t that be all the more reason to keep her there? If the ancestors of House Enroy were her elders, then shouldn’t she be with them? All the more so because she was still so little? Nanna couldn’t understand. That tiny child…. To think the Emperor would bury a three-year-old baby with only a headstone near an orchard… she couldn’t understand it.

She tried not to twist her face as she murmured with trembling lips.

“But you can’t leave her alone.”

“Nanna.”

“She’s only three…. Our baby will be afraid. You know that, Your Majesty. Freya was always such a timid child.”

“She’s dead.”

Nanna, who usually never made him repeat himself, had made him do so this time. He must have hated the sight of her shaking her head, weeping like a child. Nanna knew it. The Emperor despised being defied. Making him say something twice was defiance. Even if she was his wife, even if she was Empress… not truly, after all. She couldn’t demand his patience. And yet….

“…Your Majesty.”

Nanna shook her head, weeping, eyes fixed downward as her tears fell to the floor. ‘La Ahlem’ was sacred ground. It was the monastery where Enroy’s holy ancestors were buried. At the heart of the forest, the great souls of Enroy were laid to rest, and Freya should have been among them too. So Nanna couldn’t back down. She knew her pleas had never swayed the Emperor before, but she couldn’t give up. No one else would kneel for Freya. Nanna couldn’t just watch her be buried alone.

“Don’t leave Freya by herself.”

“She’s dead. That child is dead.”

“….”

“The dead can’t feel anything. Do you understand?”

His handsome brows furrowed. Nanna, still kneeling, stared blankly up at him. On the face of the man who declared Freya dead, there was no trace of grief. Instead, he seemed weary of repeating the obvious.

The dead can’t feel. No soul, no dreams. Dead children couldn’t feel fear, couldn’t feel loneliness. He seemed exhausted by the need to say something so self-evident. But Nanna….

“Your Majesty.”

“Your daughter’s death wasn’t my fault, was it?”