**Note**

It was pointed out to me that I had Raul as the child of Francisco and Luisa, but Lucia was in fact their child. I'm not sure how I missed such a huge detail, especially since I went through and read up on the characters bios (I was trying to figure out how old Esteban was related to Elena prior to going into the amulet). Frankly I like the idea of Raul as their son better, but I decided to correct the issue because I was going for a more realistic story about their family.

Francisco stepped out of the shower and wrapped a thick, white towel around his waist. He used the palm of his right hand to wipe the light covering of steam from the window in his and his wife's private bathroom.

The updates to the palace's plumbing and addition of multiple indoor bathrooms were the only positive results of Shuriki's reign and his purgatory in the painting. No matter how well-meaning his dear friend Alacazar had been, that was how he thought of his time in the painting for him, his wife and granddaughter, Isabel, purgatory.

He shuddered. His other granddaughter, Elena, had told him that she had been somewhat aware of the passage of time while in the amulet. He was glad Isabel at least had been spared that. There was no awareness for them in the painting.

Once he finished clearing the steam from the window pane, he peered out onto the palace grounds. He was in time to see the sunrise, it had been his custom since he was a teenager to watch the sunrise. Living in a tropical land meant he could be up at about the same time every morning and watch it. Some days, he took a shower just prior and waited for the sun, but on most days he went for a jog around the grounds and did fifty pushups and one hundred sit ups.

Staying healthy and in shape was something that was important to him. He would chuckle to Luisa from time to time,

"Dear, you are looking at the fittest 109-year-old man in the land!"

He'd then flex his bicep muscles and wink and put on what he thought was a charming smile.

"Aren't you extra lucky, mi amor?"

Luisa would laugh and pinch him on a bicep.

"Such cheekiness, from a 109-year-old man," she would always joke, and then give him a kiss on the cheek.

He had felt an uncharacteristic melancholy that morning and had not felt up to exercising. So he had gone directly to the shower.

Francisco toweled himself dry and put on his simple cotton underwear, thick cotton robe and slippers before going through the door to the large room he shared with Luisa.

She was still asleep in her bed, so he quietly went to their shared vanity and combed and styled his moustache and beard and applied a gentle lotion to his forehead and cheeks. He finished by combing his short hair into its usual style. Moving to the large walk in closet, he looked through his assortment of uniforms. He had a high number of fancy uniforms, several sets of exercise clothes, and a variety of pajamas, from long cotton night shirts to silk shirt and pant sets, but few every day clothing sets that the everyday person in the market square would be wearing.

That was why his simple cotton undershorts were so important to him. It was the one comfort that he could get away with. He was an advisor to the future Avaloran queen. He had to look prim and proper at nearly all times. But, he was going to be comfortable underneath.

He selected a teal and rose ensemble with gold epaulets and ornate buttons up the front of the coat. He pulled on the pants and threaded his favorite belt through the loops around the waist. Before securing his pants and belt, he remembered that he needed an undershirt on first. He walked over to his bureau and opened the drawer where his undershirts were stored, pulling one out.

In pulling out a shirt, he accidentally pulled several of the shirts out of the drawer and onto the floor. He put on the first shirt and then closed his pants and belt. Once his clothes were situated, he stooped to pick up the spilt shirts.

Francisco refolded the shirts and set them on top of the bureau. He smoothed down and restacked the shirts still in the drawer. He had dozens of the plain, white undershirts. It was then that his hand came into contact with something cold and hard and he knew that it had at least one sharp corner on it. He knew because he caught one of his finger cuticles on it, pulling his hand back quickly as if he had been bitten by a small animal.

Looking at his finger, he saw that it wasn't injured so he turned his attention to what it was in the drawer that was so sharp. Carefully, he pushed apart the sea of shirts. He let out a sharp gasp at what he saw at the bottom of the drawer.

A clay ox.

It was about three inches long, mottled green and black and was glazed. One of the horns had been broken off and lost and it had been that sharp edge that Francisco had caught his finger on.

It was something a child would make in an art class.

Tears welled up his eyes as he gently picked up the small clay animal. He held it in his hands and smiled slightly, tears beginning to trickled down his face as memories flooded his mind.

The figurine was a birthday gift from his daughter, Lucia, when she was seven years old. The girl had worked with the potter for the week prior to Francisco's birthday to make the gift. The potter had later told him that Lucia had gone through pounds of clay and had reshaped the ox many times until she decided she had the perfect example of her work. She had then worked tirelessly to paint it just how she liked it. In black and green, Francisco's favorite colors.

When it came time for his party, Lucia was seemingly reluctant to give her father her gift. She was blushing profusely as she shyly handed Francisco the haphazardly wrapped box. The box itself was too small for the figure, one of the horns was protruding from the side.

Francisco had been overjoyed to receive it and hugged his daughter tightly in front of the royal court and the entire town. He had put the ox in a place of honor on his desk, on the front where all could see it.

There it had stayed, unharmed, for thirty-five years. Until the day that Shuriki came to the palace and murdered the woman who had been the sweet girl that gave him the ox.

Without realizing it, he had collapsed to his knees and started gasping for air between sobs. This had woken up Luisa. To her horror, she found her husband on his knees on the floor, clutching a small object to his chest, sobbing. When he didn't respond to her questions or touch, she went for help.

She came back with a guard and two maids. All clustered around Francisco. A maid left to find the palace doctor. Finally, he looked up to meet Luisa's eyes.

"How? How?" he stammered.

Luisa was more mystified and concerned than ever.

"Francisco, what is the matter? Are you alright?"

The man held the ox figurine up to her for her to see. Luisa took in a sharp breath.

"Lucia's ox that she made!"

"How?" he stammered again.

"How what, dear?"

"How…did it survive? Why is it in my shirt drawer?" he cried, clutching it back to his chest again.

"I-I don't know," Luisa said, finally sitting down next to her husband. She rubbed his back, trying to calm him. "I haven't seen it since before we went into the painting."

At that moment, the palace doctor and Esteban rushed in. The doctor set right to work trying to speak with the elderly man. Esteban didn't say anything for a few moments.

Then he spotted the figurine in Francisco's hand.

"There it is," he sighed. "I meant to give it to you, but couldn't remember where I hid it."

Francisco looked up at his grandson, tears still coursing down his face.

"You put this in my shirt drawer?"

"Not exactly, abuelo," Francisco took a deep breath. "Shuriki destroyed most everything of our family. Paintings, knick-knacks, anything she could find. I found this about a week after…you know, she killed Raul and Lucia. It was in a burn pile. I couldn't find the horn…"

Esteban rubbed at one of his eyes. His usually pompous demeanor failing for a brief moment, showing a more sensitive part of the man.

"I hid it in this room, your room. I couldn't let that bruja destroy it. I knew that it would be all you had left of your child."

Esteban kneeled next to his grandfather.

"Abuelo, I am so sorry, for what I did," he said quietly.

Francisco looked into his grandson's eyes. He could tell that Esteban was being truthful. The older man managed to smile through his tears and breaking heart.

"I know, mijo."

Francisco hugged the figurine to his chest tighter. It was all he had left of his child. No paintings of his child had survived Shuriki's rule. Nothing. Even her body was missing. He knew that nothing would heal the ache and heartbreak he felt about the loss of Lucia, but having the ox, meant more to him than he could express.

Finding that statue was like receiving another gift from his daughter all over again.

Still sniffling, he stood and walked out into his room. The group of concerned family members and palace staff following behind him. Reverently, he set the figurine down on his bedside table.

He turned to the others and gave a small smile.

"I think I'll be alright now."

Definitions:

Mi amor = my love

Abuelo = grandfather

Bruja = witch

Mijo = endearing term for a male child / son (Francisco raised him, so was going more for a endearing term)