Beloved
sixteen years old

Violet stepped out of Sofia's rooms, another untouched tray of food in her hands.

"She still hasn't eaten?"

Violet jumped, the cloche clattering against the plate.

"Mr. Cedric?" she asked in the direction of the voice as Cedric seemed to appear from just down the hall. "I apologize, sir, you gave me a fright." She shifted the tray to hold it in one hand as her other hand fluttered up to her chest and patted it a few times. Cedric moved to stand beside her, eyeing the tray as if he could push the cold food around with just his scrutiny.

"She hasn't eaten?" his tone patiently prompted Violet to answer the question.

She shook her head, clucking like a concerned mother hen. "No, sir. She hasn't moved, hasn't slept, far as I can tell. And she hasn't eaten. Haven't been able to get a bite in her since, well…"

Her words trailed off and Cedric didn't need her to finish her thought. The castle had been shrouded in black for several days, now. No one was willing to speak aloud what had happened.

Cedric stepped forward and put his hand on the doorknob. "Send up some tea, Violet. I'll see what I can do."

Violet opened her mouth as if to protest this idea, but then thought better of it. Sofia needed help, no matter the source. She nodded once to him and went on to fetch a pot of tea as Cedric opened the door and stepped inside.

Cedric walked through the dark antechamber and into Sofia's bedroom; a place he had only been in once or twice before in his tenure in the palace. No candles had been lighted; the wicks were still white. A sickly amount of sunlight poured into the bedroom from a clouded sky. Cedric followed a trail of Princessly adornments (tiara, snood, gown, petticoats, in that order) abandoned on the floor that led to a large window seat. And seated there, dressed in her shift and wrapped in a blanket, was curled Sofia, first of her name, starring out the window.

"I told you, Violet. I'm not..." she turned her head to look over her shoulder and saw not Violet but Cedric, standing there plainly before her. "Oh…" she said in a whisper. Her eyes flicked up to meet his only briefly before she looked away. She looked so small in that moment as tears started to fall on her delicate features. Cedric was only able to take one step forward before Sofia unfolded herself from her spot at the window and ran across the room, throwing herself into his arms.

Cedric clung to Sofia, supporting her as she shook in his embrace. He stroked her hair and let her cry, let her mourn as his presence provided some unnameable comfort in the chaos of this tragedy.

"I'm here, I'm here," he whispered to her over and over again in a sort of calming chant until Sofia finally quieted. Cedric didn't bother asking her permission before he scooped her up in his arms. Her eyes fluttered closed. She pressed into him, practically deadweight in his arms. He held her closely, safely, a port in the storm of her sorrow. He moved her across the room, gently laying her down on her bed. Before he could step away, she reached out and grabbed his hand.

"Stay," she whispered, her voice a little hoarse.

Cedric reached over to her with his other hand and brushed the hair out of her face in a gesture dangerously playing on the definition of his affection for her. He smiled down into her bleary eyes.

"I was just going to fetch your blanket, dear one." The endearment slipped out and he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

.

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A/N: The prompt - Beloved - is more of a feeling, less of a word this time around.
This ends a bit abruptly. I started writing more after this paragraph but I couldn't find a good conclusion. This seemed good enough. It is just a drabble after all.
Let the tragedy be what you imagine it to be.