1926 (Twelve years after the plot begins)
"Mama, I have a date today," Elicia said, brushing her hair. Gracia leant in the doorframe, smiling. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, her hair, the same dark honey blonde as hers, curled gently to her shoulders, and her green eyes winked with excitement. Elicia was the most beautiful girl in the world, to her. And to Maes, wherever he might be, Gracia thought, smiling sadly. She only wished- she only wished she could see more of Maes in their daughter. More of his appearance, as selfish as it was. But Elicia had shown all the good heartedness of her father as she grew, and that, she mused, was more than enough.
Indeed, when she was born, looking so much like her 'darling mama' (as he liked to say), Maes was thrilled. He would've been thrilled if she looked like the rear end of a donkey, he loved his daughter so, but it didn't matter. He'd been such a doting father, he'd adored their little Elicia. And she'd adored him just as much. If there had only been more time-
She'd wanted a son, they both had. A mischievous little boy with Maes's grin and Gracia's eyes. They'd been trying, just before he was killed, for another baby, for their first son. Elicia was old enough for a little brother . . . Even so, after his death, one month passed, then two, before she realized she'd missed her bleedings. Excitedly, nervously, she headed for the doctor, praying, wishing anything for this to be a child.
In the end, it was nothing more than the toll the stress and grief Maes's death had taken on her body. She'd cried so hard that night, wanting that baby so hard made the despair so much greater. But Elicia- Elicia was her saving grace. Their daughter, the last wisp of Maes. Oh, she loved him so.
"You've got a date tonight, sweetheart? That's wonderful news! Who's the lucky boy?" As she listened to her daughter's delighted description of the boy, Graica couldn't help but wonder; If Maes were here, what would his reaction be . . . ? She couldn't help an inward giggle, thinking of Elicia's third birthday, when he pulled the gun on those poor little boys.
