Winter Bud - Chapter 3

The young maid, as if it didn’t matter much, dabbed a little rose oil and applied it to Nanna’s nape. Since it was just an evening banquet, there was nothing special to dress up for, but it was nonetheless an occasion to meet the Empress Dowager. If it had been Stateira….

That is, if it had been Stateira, who was loved even by the Emperor’s mother, perhaps she might have worn nothing more than a simple indoor dress of plain cotton to such an occasion. After all, she truly was the Emperor’s wife. She wouldn’t have had to worry that the children, unacknowledged even by their nanny, might be abused.

Nanna tried to forget the fact that weighed heavily in her heart. To feign indifference and pretend there was no need to recall what had already passed felt ridiculous. This marriage, if it could even be called that, was already in its eighth year.

Whether she had wanted it or not, Nanna had borne three children with Stateira’s husband. She had shared his bed countless times…. Just as her father had wished, she became the Emperor’s womb. She became his female, spreading her legs for him night after night.

She lifted her dress slightly. It was not far to the dining room. Slowly, she walked until she reached the dining room filled with a pastoral atmosphere. The long dining table prepared for the imperial family was covered with a pale pink cloth.

Originally, it should’ve been a space of great splendor, but compared to the dining rooms of other noble households, it was modest, simple, and intimate. Rather than being grand and imposing, it was truly a space for family. This too had reflected Stateira’s wishes.

That the space for family meals at least be warm, intimate, and familial. She had personally chosen each candlestick, tablecloth, curtain, and vase herself.

Nanna clasped her hands and darted her eyes about. The attendant seated her a little apart from the Emperor. Beside her, three small chairs were neatly arranged in a row.

She turned her gaze toward the Emperor’s seat at the head of the table, and at the Empress Dowager’s seat on his right. It seemed she had arrived first. Soon after she sat, the Empress Dowager and the Emperor entered one after the other. Then, holding Alexis in her arms, Viscountess Schvalen entered the dining room, with Slan and Stella walking ahead of her.

Nanna lowered her gaze, making an effort not to look too closely at the woman. The two princes and the princess took their seats, and Alexis was placed in her arms. Anticipating that Alexis might cry, Viscountess Schvalen stood by the entrance of the dining room, right next to the attendant.

Nanna glanced at the woman. In the past—not too long ago—the place where that woman now stood had been hers. Standing beside the attendant, she had attended to Stateira, her father, and the man who was her fiancé, the Emperor. There had been such days…

Soon, the long dining table began to fill. Quail dishes marinated in wine and roasted piglets. Abalone and cuttlefish. Grilled pike. Various poultry and soft breads crowded the table, accompanied by sherry.

Nanna, hands still clasped, stole a glance at the Emperor. The man who had burrowed into her like a beast the night before now sat with a face as if he knew nothing of vulgarity. With his black hair neatly brushed back, the Emperor appeared dignified as ever.

His straight, sharp lines were flawless. His striking features were stern and noble, bearing both roughness and elegance at once. There wasn’t a trace of crudeness or baseness in his face. Even the ascetic impression he gave at times was enough to remind one of a devout priest or holy knight, yet in the end, it had nothing to do with Nanna.

Stateira had once said her fiancé was special, as delicate as a lady, but to Nanna, he was nothing more than a man who threatened and ravished her. With a gloomy face, she lowered her eyes. The Emperor’s amber eyes flicked toward her, then he quickly raised his glass.

Rather than looking back at the Emperor, Nanna turned her eyes toward the Empress Dowager. The Empress Dowager didn’t seem especially pleased to see her either, but it had been her idea to arrange this dinner in the first place. Even knowing just how much the Emperor loathed her….

She had said she knew very well that Nanna could never take Stateira’s place. That she expected nothing else from her. Just as Duke Everhardt had said. When Stateira’s father adopted her as his daughter and sent her into the palace, there had been only one thing he wanted from her. To bear imperial heirs. And so…

“Mama—”

Alexis, who was in her arms, stretched out his tiny hand toward the consommé. Afraid the baby might be scolded for his greediness—for drawing the Emperor’s glare—she quickly adjusted him in her arms. The baby, displeased, whimpered softly. She picked up a small spoon, scooped a little consommé, and placed it into the baby’s tiny lips.

At the soft taste, the baby’s eyes sparkled. The amber eyes, inherited from the Emperor, shone like jewels. Like gathering blooming freesias one by one into a glass vase. That was what Nanna had thought when he was born.

“Ahh—”

Alexis babbled softly. Nanna broke into a slight cold sweat. Across from her, the Empress Dowager smiled faintly at the baby, but the Emperor continued eating as though the child did not even exist. Nanna glanced at the man who moved his jaw mechanically, then quietly wiped the sweat from her forehead and shifted the restless baby.

Originally, Alexis didn’t attend the weekend dinners. He was not even a year old yet, too young to know proper manners, and too little to eat adult food. Yet he was brought because of the Empress Dowager’s command.

“Isn’t it true that my son lacks any sense of fatherhood? Aside from the Crown Prince, he seems uninterested in the rest of the children.”

The Empress Dowager furrowed her brows, worrying about her noble son. Her face was filled with concern. The Empress Dowager was quite beautiful, enough to pass down such looks to the Emperor. In her youth she had been praised as the “Rose of Dawn” for her stunning beauty. Even now, though older, that beauty remained. Nanna, watching the woman who could easily be mistaken for a lady in her late thirties if she kept her lips closed, fell silent.

Just as the Empress Dowager said, the Emperor showed little interest in his children beyond his eldest son, Slan. Even that interest in Slan was only to see if the boy might one day be fit to inherit the throne. More precisely, it was an assessment of his potential. If deemed useless after all his measuring, he would one day be sent to the battlefield at a suitable age.

And he would never be pulled out from that living hell until his death. Nanna feared him. It was easier on her heart when he didn’t seek the children at all.

That he needed imperial heirs. That he needed a woman to bear descendants for the imperial bloodline, for the dynasty that so cherished its lineage. Even as they said that, the Empress Dowager, the Emperor, and the imperial relatives never welcomed her. Even though she endured torment and humiliation from the Emperor and still bore them imperial heirs. Yet Nanna understood them.

From the beginning, Nanna could never replace Stateira. Never in her life could she hope to be loved as Stateira was. That noble status, that cheerful nature…. Even her courage and boldness. Nanna could never measure up to her. Imitating her was impossible.

Shuddering at the memory of past humiliations, Nanna trembled faintly. Then the Empress Dowager opened her lips.

“Take Alexis away now, Viscountess.”

Perhaps thinking that Nanna was not eating properly because she was feeding Alexis consommé, the woman spoke. Soon Viscountess Schvalen approached and took the baby from Nanna’s arms. Though Nanna politely said it was fine, it wasn’t accepted.

Her two arms now empty, her chest felt strangely hollow. Out of habit, she stole a glance at the Emperor seated at the head of the table, then turned her eyes back to the dishes. As she ate the quail little by little, she checked whether her son and daughter were eating well. Both Slan and Stella ate less than usual.