It was winter in Laputa; moreso, it was the kind of winter that painted the mountain landscape in wooly blankets of picturesque white.

Persis had endured such winters before- as a child he had known them as unforgiving, near unsurvivable, and even as an adult he often found himself unable to shake the feeling of dread imparted upon him by the chill of the winter wind. Yet, with stability came the freedom to see things in a new light. Time had not fully healed the pains of his past, but it had made them easier to live with. With a kinder life, he could look upon the winter not with the fear of an unsheltered child, but with the wisdom that only came with age and knowing he had a place to rest his head. He would enjoy this winter, he thought. He had so many reasons to.

Persis’s last winter had been a rare one not spent in his homeland. Instead of celebrating the midwinter festivities, he’d spent the season securing temporary housing and shelter arrangements for all those suddenly in his care, following that disaster of a tournament. It had taken time, and effort, to ensure everyone was safe and accounted for and settled in Laputa, but after a year’s worth of work, he’d done it. Just in time for the holiday season, they had all made it. Everyone was safe, everyone had a place to call home. He was certain arrangements would change in the future, but for now, he could rest.

Though he might’ve hoped to dream about it, Persis was not such a fool to imagine his entire new family all celebrating this first holiday season together. After all, they were all still so tired from the tournament, and so many of them still held violent grudges against each other, it simply was not suitable for any large-scale celebration. Still, he held out hope that one day, the festivities would be shared amongst them all, together. In the meantime, he and Varian had devised a simple plan to celebrate with every member of their new family. They would simply go and visit them all.

The first group they had gone to visit were Enzo, and his partner Sadihak, in their new beachside residence. The visit had gone well, despite there still being tension between the young couple and Persis’s own partner, Varian. Persis knew Enzo cared about him far too much to ever cause a scene at a holiday celebration over his choice in romantic partners, and while he knew Sadihak to be petty, he suspected they respected him more than they disliked Varian. Overall, it had been a wonderful time- good food was shared along with good laughter, and it was so nice to see Enzo actually happy for once.

After the visit with Enzo and Sadihak, Varian and Persis part ways, with Varian returning to their home in Laputa’s capital to spend time with Kallum and Jaelyn, and Persis continuing along his journey. This was a sad but necessary measure, as they only had so much time, and bringing Kallum along for this next leg of the trip would’ve ended in disaster. While his partner traveled back home and his children all remained not fighting each other, Persis made the solitary northward journey to Albanes and Maddy’s new home.

The two girls were some of the first he’d moved to Laputa, in no small part because they both so desperately needed a place to stay. Though he had presented them with many options, they had both chosen a small home in a small city in the rocky north of Laputa, a bit far from the capital but close enough to visit frequently. There, the two of them resided, taking the time to adjust to this new normal before either entered training as a knight. Albanes, particularly, had been using the time to rest and heal following the surgery that had removed her powers and the god that had given them to her. Life had turned slow for the two girls, and though Maddy was most likely starting her knight training in the coming spring, Persis hoped it would stay slow, and kind, for the two of them for the rest of their lives.

He arrived at the girl’s home late in the evening, when the sun had long passed over the horizon and the clear sky was blanketed with a canopy of deep indigo, like the cool richness of an aged mulberry wine. Despite his late arrival, both Maddy and Albanes had stayed up to wait for him- they had even prepared him a hot meal. Only moments after he’d been ushered through the door, Persis was sat down at the dinner table and served a bowl of a steaming, rich meaty stew, which he suspected Albanes had done most of the actual cooking for, but wasn’t going to bring that up. What followed was conversation- the warm sort of conversation, the talking about nothing for hours that only close family could truly have together. The more involved, more traditional holiday celebrations would start the next morning, when he had rested and more of the city was awake with them, but the informality of the evening celebration made it no less important to Persis. He enjoyed it more, even: just being able to speak with his girls, in an environment they were so clearly at ease in. He would commit to memory how at ease Maddy looked to be in his presence, how easily Albanes opened up to him about even her most minor troubles. He adored these girls. He was so glad they were safe, and happy, and had each other.

When evening waned into night and conversation had faded, they went to bed. Albanes and Maddy retired to their own room, with Persis in the guest bedroom. Maddy and Albanes’s home was homey in its modest nature- the furniture all simply carved, the decoration still sparse. Even in the guest bedroom, Persis could hear the croaking and hopping of the many frogs Maddy kept for research and companionship. He smiled at this, and resigned himself to never hearing the sound of a frog again without thinking of his daughter. And so, with this pleasant thought on his mind, Persis bundled up under warm woolen quilts, and let the croaking of frogs lull him to a contented sleep.

Until, he was woken up.

Years in service of the knighthood had attuned Persis’s sleeping senses to the slightest sound, just in case there was a threat. He often woke to sounds that weren’t a threat- just simple noises of the night, and figured whatever had woken him up this night was of the sort. Still, he waited awake for a moment. If a threat had made its way into Albanes and Maddy’s home, he would need to be awake to face it, no matter how unlikely the situation was.

Moments passed, and Persis could detect no further sound beyond the rhythmic croaking of the frogs and the distant night noise of the street outside his window. He was very close to simply assuming he’d been woken by a particularly loud cart rolling outside, and heading back to sleep, when he heard again what had woken him in the first place. Now, he could recognize it.

A wooden cabinet- one in the hall, by how close the sound was to his room- clattering open, then closed, then open again.

Was it a thief? Persis was not specifically aware of any valuables Maddy and Albanes kept in their home- especially not any they specifically stored in their hallway cabinets. Yet his lack of knowledge did not mean the house was any of a target for any roaming bandits. Had someone seen him in the streets, identified him as a knight and assumed his hosts possessed something worth taking? Perhaps, even, it was not a thief, but someone else with a more sinister motive. Regardless, Persis had to act, and he had to act fast.

As quietly as he could, Persis shrank from his quilts and moved carefully from the bed, over to the door. His bare footsteps were soft upon the cool wooden floor, but not silent. Still, the thief in the hallway was not expecting him, and he would still have the element of surprise. Carefully, Persis made his way from his bed to the door, then just as carefully slid the door open. He stepped into the pitch black of the hall.

It was when Persis first entered the hallway that its other inhabitant noticed his presence. She yelped in fright, and let the silver candlestick in her hands clatter to the floor. She backed away from him, into a sliver of moonlight peeking through from the far window, and Persis could tell at that moment that this was not a thief. It was Albanes.

The moonlight illuminated her squarish features in a cool, misty half-tone, sparkling in the tear stains trailing from her under-eyes. Having dropped the objects she had taken from the cupboard, her pale-knuckled hands grasped loosely at the fabric of her nightshirt. Her loose, brown curls fell across her shoulders, some clinging to her face, wet with tears and sweat. Though she had initially been startled by Persis’s presence, she did not appear to fear him. Rather, her gaze held a distinct worry, a fear of being in trouble for something.

“Young Albanes,” Persis began in a full voice, before hastily dropping to a lower volume, “are you alright?”

“Don’t wake Maddy.” Albanes said before anything, her voice even more of a whisper then Persis’s. “Please. She’s still sleeping in the bedroom, please don’t wake her.”

This secrecy naturally concerned Persis, but he was not in much of a position to deny Albanes the privacy she so clearly desired. He nodded, and helped her pick up the candlestick she had dropped- as well as the box of matches, and the corded bracelet that had also ended up on the floor. This collection of objects did not easily soothe Persis’s conscious, but he didn’t know Albanes for arson, at the least. With his tone lowered to match Albanes’s, he whispered, “Of course. But please, young Albanes, could you tell me what is going on?”

Albanes’s young face twisted from fear and shock, into stern resolve. “Not here.” She said, and started towards the living room. Because Persis was carrying all her objects, which he presumed she needed for whatever she was doing, he followed.

Just like the hallway had been, the living room was dark and cool and silent in the night- though its open spaces and more distant shadows offered reprieve from the suffocating silence of the hall. Beyond the warmth of the house, Persis could hear the distant howling of the wind, rattling against stone walls. The air was cool against his skin, but not in a harsh way. The silence was a contemplative one.

Albanes had departed from him and left to the kitchen, so Persis set the objects on the dining table- the candlestick, the matchbox, and the corded bracelet. Thankfully, the table was still covered by the tablecloth, which muffled the sound only slightly. This was the kind of silence one didn’t want to break. Only moments later, Albanes returned with one final object- an unpeeled orange.

Only if you wish to, Young Albanes.” Persis was still concerned for the young girl, but he knew Albanes greatly valued her privacy. And now, with the objects he’d been presented, he had an idea of what she was planning to do.

Albanes sighed- her rough hands wrapped gently around the candlestick. “I want you to know. I want someone to know.”

Yet then, she paused. In the low moonlight, Persis could recognize the way Albanes’s features twisted into hesitation, then despair. He knew only in part the suffering she had endured over her short life, yet it still pained him to know what little he did. Albanes, like nearly every child who’d ended up in his care, had endured great tragedy. Persis let Albanes have her hesitation, and her silence.

When Albanes finally continued, it was facing away from Persis, looking off into some far distance. Her voice was quiet, to mask its breaking. “It’s the anniversary of when Juno died. I just, I-” She set the candlestick down on the table, “I just wanted to mourn him.”

Juno. The name of a man Persis had heard so much of, yet knew so little about. Albanes referenced him frequently, yet often denied further questions about his character, background, or relationship to her. Over the time he had begun to know Albanes, Persis had come to understand there were some things about Juno that Albanes simply didn’t know, and others that were too painful to relay. Juno had been Albanes’s mentor, the closest thing to family she’d had after the death of her village. And yet, he had imparted his powers and the cruel god that possessed him onto her. Persis knew Juno had harmed Albanes in more ways than he could ever truly comprehend, and he supported her whenever she felt anger towards her now-dead mentor. But he also knew Albanes was a girl who’d experienced more grief in a few years than most adults did over her entire lifetimes. If Albanes wanted to be angry at Juno, she would let her be angry. And if she wanted to grieve him, he would let her grieve.

“Oh, young Albanes…” Persis sighed. Because he sensed Albanes might need to hear it, he added, “If mourning him feels like the right thing to do, that is what you should do. I will not interfere if you don’t want me to. Would you like me to leave?”

Albanes considered this for longer than Persis expected her to. “No.” She eventually settled on, which surprised him. “I don’t want to grieve alone again. Please, stay.”

If Albanes wished him to stay, he would. “Of course. I’ll stay by your side the entire time.”

Then, Albanes’s gaze softened. She did not smile, because this was not an occasion for smiling, but it was clear to Persis how she relaxed in his presence. She rested the silver candlestick firmly on the table, and began to arrange the other objects around it. Albanes carefully undid the corded bracelet’s clasp, laying it out in a neat line so the intricate knotwork was displayed to the heavens. “It was one of Juno’s,” She explained, voice soft and still to mask its fragility. “He gave it to me, before…” Albanes cut herself off. “It’s all I have left of him.”

Persis did not answer, both because he had no reply for the information Albanes was giving him and because he knew she’d appreciate his silence more. He watched as she unpeeled the orange only partially, in a precise pattern, and set it perpendicular to the bracelet- “A food offering,” she explained. The final step of Albanes’s mourning ritual was to strike a match- she let the flame flicker and dance in the night air for a moment- and light the candle.

The singular, golden flame lit up the room in a soft, warm light- so faint and yet so undeniably present. Persis watched Albanes as she watched the fire. She stood still for only a moment, before sitting down and gesturing for Persis to join her. “Now, we pray.”

Persis sat down next to Albanes, and mirrored the way in which she clasped her hands together and pressed her forehead to her knuckles. He even repeated the whispered, central loucari-language prayers as she did, though he didn’t know their meaning and the breathy sounds were unfamiliar on his tongue.

“Eit siyeta sauryaiyana iduenmael,¹” Albanes began. “Aeyt sendaireym myrou shaedesael.²”

The Loucari language, or at least the dialect Persis had heard from Albanes, was rhythmic, rolling and dense with consonants. From what he knew, it was rarely used outside of the most sacred contexts. After a few years of knowing Albanes, he still didn’t know the specifics of what he was saying, yet he prayed with Albanes through the falter in his voice. Albanes’s soft voice faltered too- though not from unfamiliarity with the consonants. She stumbled from the sheer amount of emotion the words carried.

“Haudye, Aeyt eit naet- naetyn saum thesaerael.³” Albanes stammered, then switched to the common tongue. “Forgive us for our earthly desires, and leave us not in solitude. Heal my sickened, lonesome heart.”

The sudden switch in language startled Persis, but at least now he could follow along with what was being said. He wondered why Albanes had made the switch- was it to accommodate him, in mourning a man he had never met? Was Albanes losing her grasp on her native language after having no one to speak it to? Was it simply easier, to distance herself from her past in such a way to recite her prayers in the wrong tongue? Persis did not know. When he spared a glance from the flickering candlelight to Albanes, he found her gaze to be pained, but ultimately too distant to truly read.

“Grant me not a long and pained life, but deliver me a quick death. Bury me under the shade of the fig tree and take me into your loving arms. Spare me a quiet and eternal sleep. Psarae Diyena.⁴"

Before Persis could repeat the final, foreign words, Albanes turned to him. “Now, you say, ‘Psarae Solumnena’⁴.”

“Psarae Solumnena.” Persis repeated, the syllables falling from his lips without meaning- at least, to him. From the look of relief upon Albanes’s face, it meant a great deal to her.

What a grave prayer. In the silence that followed Albanes’s final benediction, Persis watched the flickering candlelight and reflected on the words he had just repeated. He still knew so little of the Loucari faith, so he had no idea if all Loucari mourning prayers were so grave, or if Albanes had specifically chosen this one. What he did know was that Albanes was a very grave girl, and from that he could assume she would have chosen the prayer she did, regardless if it was typical or not. Still, it felt strange to him, to mourn by putting oneself in the place of the deceased.

“It wasn’t the traditional mourning prayer,” Albanes confessed in a whisper, as if she had heard Persis’s thoughts. “It’s a part of a prayer for forgiveness. I… forgot the traditional mourning prayer.”

And she would likely never remember the mourning prayers again. Persis’s heart ached- he was so glad Albanes was here with him in Laputa, yet he also knew how much she had left behind. He wished so dearly that she would find a home and family here with him, yet she had once had a home and family, which had been taken from her. He wanted to be like a father to her, yet here he was- mourning the last thing like one she had ever had.

A prayer for forgiveness. Persis wondered why that was what Albanes had remembered. He hoped she hadn’t had much reason to beg for divine forgiveness as a child, though he doubted he would ever fully know. Albanes could be so closed off, so secretive about her past. If she had frequently recited the prayer like she had for Persis, it did not mean she would ever confess it. And still, he wondered. Perhaps, Albanes had remembered the prayer not because of her history with it, but because of its contents. Though grim, he could understand how the young girl would find comfort in it. Spare me a quiet and eternal sleep. What loving words, Persis found himself thinking, to be said in mourning.

When he looked back to Albanes, he saw her cheeks sparkling with wet tears. Her lip was trembling, and though she was watching the flame with determination, her gaze flickered. Her brow knotted in rich emotion- in surface worry, and something beneath Persis couldn’t yet identify.

“Young Albanes,” He cautioned a hand to her shoulder, “Are you alright?”

The sound of Persis’s voice startled Albanes out of her grieving trance. She blinked, and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, and took in a heavy breath. She leaned into Persis’s embrace. “Is it wrong that I want to grieve for him? After- after everything he did, everything he did to me- it can’t be right to treat him like he was family. But… I miss him, Persis. I miss him a lot.”

“Oh, Young Albanes…” Persis wrapped his arm firmly around Albanes’s body. “It is never wrong to grieve. If mourning him is what feels right, then it’s the right thing to do. You can recognize that what he did to you was harmful, and still feel grief at his passing. It’s normal to feel confused, and angry, and mournful. I will never look down on you for the way you choose to grieve, Albanes. Your healing journey is your own, and you decide what’s best for you.”

Albanes nodded into Persis’s chest. “I- I can’t even mourn him right. I forgot the right prayers, I can’t say them in Loucari, I-” She cut herself off with a whimper.

Persis patted Albanes’s shoulder gently as he thought of what to say. “I think the prayer you recited was beautiful,” he settled on, “Whether or not it was the traditional one.”

“Thank you, Persis.” Albanes mumbled, and leaned into his chest. “Thank you.”

Persis knew this was not the last of her mourning. He knew that Albanes would carry this, and the rest of the grief that burdened her, for the rest of her days. Still, he hoped that this had lightened that burden, if only a bit.

She called him ‘Persis’, only ever referring to him by his first name. He had become ‘Dad’ to so many of the other children, but not Albanes. He had long since come to the understanding that he would never be ‘dad’ or ‘father’ to Albanes. He would only ever be ‘Persis’- but that was alright. As long as she still found comfort in his presence, he was happy.

Albanes sobbed into Persis’s chest, and then fell into silence. For a moment. Persis thought she had fallen asleep completely, til he saw her still watching the flame. Still, he held his arms warm around Albanes, and watched the flickering light with her. He knew this was not a happy time- celebration would come tomorrow, in the light of day and in the warmth of company. But in the quiet cocoon of night, with his arms around the girl he might call his daughter, he could find solace in this moment. He hoped Albanes might too.