Hide the Truth

Milliarde was born in mid-morning halfway through spring. Being Alfard, the day was a sunny one and the springtime heat unknown anywhere else except perhaps in Holoholo Jungle (though it was a humid heat there as opposed to the dry heat of Alfard). The labour had been exhausting for the mother of the girl in such heat, more so than perhaps she had expected. Her body was well-nourished yet fragile, and Baelheit worried for her even in the best of times. The birth was fraught with complications and Baelheit couldn't help but fear that he might lose his wide or his daughter or both before the day was done.

To his immense relief, the doctors of Alfard were wonderfully skilled in their practice and were able to help deliver Milliarde safely into the world so that both mother and daughter survived with only the vaguest memories of pain and exhaustion. That day was one of the happiest of Baelheit's life, and words alone were unable to express his sincerest gratitude to the doctors or to the heavens for saving his wife and his daughter from harm.

He was young, back then, only twenty-one. That matters, of course, if only because it sets the stage for what is to come (and, at the same time, what may never be).

Though he was young and his family was young, Baelheit loved them deeply. His wife's glimmering smile made up the stars of his sky and Milliarde's laugh was his sun. At this time, their family was made up only of love, a love so strong that he was certain nothing could ever destroy it (and in that he was right).

It was around this time just as his family was begun that Olgan—hateful, spiteful, damned Olgan!—set the young husband—the new father—to a new task. Create a spiriter, Olgan commanded. Naturally, Baelheit had no choice but to comply. How could one defy an emperor?

At first, the experiments seemed to go well. His team tested the remains of a dead god and nothing went amiss. It was almost too perfect, like a glass vase which is easily broken because of its beauty. Things which appear too perfect break easier than those with obvious flaws. You try so hard to be careful around things of great beauty so that the more you try to be careful the more likely you are to break it. Yet, surrounded by things which appear worthless, no matter how reckless you are, nothing will shatter.

Were the remains of Malpercio beautiful? Perhaps, in one way, they were.

Nights began to pass where Baelheit would not make it home from the lab. Olgan's experiment began to take up more and more of his time. He hated this from the depths of his heart but truly, the sooner he completed the task Olgan had set him, the sooner he could return to his family. But the whims of an emperor came first, always. They came even before a child (Shanath, Milliarde).

Milliarde was growing up without him and Baelheit hated it.

The few nights he was home, he would tuck her in to sleep. "I love you, Milliarde," he would whisper soothingly, truly.

She would stare up at him, questioning that in her heart but not being able to articulate it words. The worst part was that she didn't even need to. He could tell by the way she looked at him, just before her eyelids fluttered closed and she drifted off to sleep. She thought his love was a lie because he was never home to show he loved or to say it every day.

But it's not a lie! Baelheit almost wept at the side of her bed every time she looked at him like that. I love you, Milliarde. Truly, I do.

Milliarde did not have the nuanced grasp of language back then for she was far too young. She thought his love was a lie and doubly so when he said it to her aloud, those few nights when he came home. It broke his heart. Damn Olgan for taking him away from his daughter!

And when he saw her torn apart in front of him, her body in pieces and her blood staining the floor of his lab red, everything came crashing down. Something snapped. Suddenly, Malpercio meant nothing. Olgan and his whims meant nothing. "Yet it took the death of my family to show me that!" Baelheit hissed, falling to his knees on the floor of the lab and banging his fists down hard on the blood-covered floor. "What an absolute fool I am!"

If I really loved my family, I would have refused Olgan. This is all my fault.

Perhaps Milliarde was right to look at him with doubt in her eyes. He couldn't not love her and yet somehow, over the years, that didn't change her mind about whether or not he actually did. The way she spoke to him and the way she looked at him hurt. As a father—as her father—he could see the doubt that plagued her all through her youth. She thought it was a lie when he told her he loved her, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to prove it otherwise.

"I lie about many things Milliarde," he murmured to himself, long after she'd left Alfard on a ship bound for Hasseleh. "But loving you isn't one of them..."

Theme Set: #1

Prompt: #2: I love you.

I started writing this one a few days ago between Criticism and British Lit, but I didn't finish it until now, so my original idea changed about halfway through. I like how it turned out, though I had a lot of trouble with this prompt. I couldn't decide who would lie about saying "I love you" or to who they would say it as a lie, out of Baelheit or Milly, so in the end, I chose to go a different way with it. What do you think?

And yes, my new goal is apparently to make a random reference to Shanath in every one of these XD Just because it's so easy, for some odd reason. We'll see how long I can keep it up!

As always, your comments are well-loved and totally make my day! :D