Chapter 300: Papa’s Promise
As Aria snuggled into Adrian's arms, her small body warm and filled with joy, Adrian paused for a moment.
His gaze shifted toward Christine, who stood with her hands clasped behind her back, smiling gently at the scene.
"Christine," he said, his tone shifting slightly back to serious — though it still held a soft warmth thanks to the little girl in his arms.
She blinked and straightened. "Yes, big brother?"
"I need you to speak with Lady Nadia," Adrian said, referring to the Goddess of Fate, Christine's divine patron.
"Ask her if there's a method to safely make the Abyssal Harbinger remove the curse on Isolda without risking possession or harm to any of us."
Christine's expression shifted at once into a solemn, focused look. She nodded firmly. "I understand. I'll go to the shrine chamber and begin communion right away."
"Good." Adrian gave her a nod of gratitude. "If anyone can get an answer, it's you."
Christine beamed, clearly proud to have been entrusted with something so important. "I'll ask Lady Nadia for her guidance, big brother. I'm sure she'll help."
Adrian smiled. "Thank you."
With the matter in trusted hands, Adrian shifted his attention back to the soft bundle in his arms.
Aria had been patiently listening to the exchange, her big eyes flicking between her father and Christine like she was trying to follow something far above her understanding.
But the moment Adrian looked back at her, she grinned with all the sunshine in the world.
"Nowww can we play?" she asked, her voice light and melodic.
Adrian chuckled, adjusting her gently in his arms. "Yes, little one. Let's go on that adventure."
As he walked down the halls of the Everhart manor, the weight of politics, war, and curses temporarily faded behind him. Aria's presence was like a balm to the soul — her fingers toying with his collar, her giggles echoing with every bounce of his step.
She pressed her cheek to his and whispered, "Papa, you smell like the big room."
He laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
They stepped out into the garden — a vibrant expanse of greenery blooming with flowers in every shade imaginable. Birds chirped in the trees, and a soft breeze carried the sweet scent of rose and lavender through the air.
Adrian motioned for the nearby maids. "Prepare a tray of pastries for Aria. Make them fun — stars, bunnies, little dragons if you can."
The maids smiled and curtsied. "At once, my lord."
Aria gasped as her eyes widened, already imagining what was to come. "Bunny cakes?! And star ones? Really?!"
Adrian nodded solemnly. "Only for the strongest and cutest girl in the manor."
She grinned so hard it looked like her face might split in half. "I am the strongest!"
They settled near a shaded gazebo at the edge of the flower garden. Adrian sat with Aria on his lap, and she busied herself picking petals off a fallen flower and blowing them like confetti. He leaned back, letting the breeze rustle his hair while he watched her play, her joy infectious.
Before long, the maids returned with a small silver platter arranged with delightful pastries — shaped like stars, moons, flowers, bunnies, and a tiny dragon with icing wings.
Aria squealed in delight. "They're so cuuuute!"
She picked up a bunny-shaped tart and offered it to Adrian first. "You have the first bite, Papa."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? That's the biggest one."
She nodded with utmost seriousness. "You did all the big work today. So you deserve the big bunny."
Adrian laughed and took a small bite. "Delicious."
Aria wasted no time in devouring the others, occasionally giggling as icing got on her nose or chin. Her laughter rang like chimes in the wind.
Adrian simply sat there with her nestled in his lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her.
In that fleeting moment of calm, the weight of his title, the shadows of the abyss, and the politics of noble houses seemed far away. Here, in the garden’s gentle hush, with Aria’s cheerful giggles echoing through the air and the scent of lavender drifting on the breeze, time itself seemed to slow.
“Papa,” Aria mumbled between bites, her mouth full of pastry. “Can we do this every day?”
Adrian looked down at her, brushing a bit of cream from the corner of her lips with his thumb. “As often as I can, sweetheart. I promise.”
She gave a tiny, happy hum and leaned her head back against his chest, content. “I like the garden. It’s warm. And you’re warm.”
He smiled gently and kissed her forehead. “Then we’ll make this our special place.”
As she sat up, licking sugar from her fingers, Aria’s eyes lit up again. “Can we pick flowers for the table? I wanna make it pretty for Mama Rosalyn.”
Adrian chuckled, setting her down gently on the soft grass. “Go ahead. Just don’t pick the ones near the pond. Chrisitine will scold both of us.”
Aria gasped dramatically. “Even you?!”
“Especially me.”
She giggled again and dashed off barefoot, her pink dress fluttering as she scampered between flowerbeds like a sprite from an old legend.
Adrian leaned back with a contented sigh, watching her weave through the blooms, pointing out every “perfect flower” as if each one held a treasure within its petals.
It was strange, he thought, how easily one child’s laughter could drown out the echoes of war.
Even as he knew the danger hadn’t passed — that the Harbinger still lurked behind its bindings, that Count Vortigern was surely plotting his next move — Adrian let himself savor the stillness. Aria had brought light into their lives, and he would defend it with everything he had.
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly turned earth. The wind rustled the leaves gently, and somewhere nearby, the sound of soft humming — one of the maids — blended with birdsong in a melody of peace.
“Papa!” Aria called, holding up a fistful of purple and yellow blossoms. “These are for you! And Mama! And other Mamas as well.”
He opened his arms, and she ran into them, dropping half the flowers in her excitement. “I made a bouquet! It’s messy but it’s mine!”
Adrian caught her mid-run, swinging her up and into his lap again. “It’s perfect.”
She beamed, holding up the crumpled bundle of flowers like a trophy. “You can keep them forever.”
“I will,” Adrian said, placing the flowers on the table beside the platter. “I’ll put them right next to my sword — so I always remember what I’m fighting for.”
Aria blinked, not quite understanding, but she smiled anyway. “Then you’ll win lots and lots, right?”
Adrian laughed softly. “Every single time.”