Dinner ended quietly, with the faint clinking of silver against porcelain echoing through the vast dining hall.
The chandelier light shimmered softly above the long polished table, bathing the room in a golden calm that almost hid the unspoken tension.
Edmund sat at the head of the table, composed and regal, his very presence enough to demand silence. Ara, seated to his right, moved with quiet grace, her head slightly lowered as she finished her meal. Sean sat opposite her, watching his sister with fond amusement, while further down the table, Morgana and Vivienne exchanged cautious glances, trying to gauge the mood.
When the last course was cleared, Edmund spoke, his tone calm but deliberate.
"So," he said, setting down his glass, "are you spending the night here?"
Ara lifted her head, her lips curving into a soft smile. There was a playful glint in her eyes — one that Sean recognized instantly.
"I would really love to, Dad," she said in a teasing, spoiled tone. Then, with a small dramatic sigh, she added, "But it seems like you don't love me anymore. You married me off and already gave my room to my dear sister Vivienne."
Her voice carried both jest and mischief. She slipped closer to him and draped her arms around his neck in a way that instantly softened his stern features.
Sean snorted, shaking his head at her dramatics. "Who gave away your room, hmm?" he teased, his tone half serious. "Your room is only made for you, Ara."
Then, his gaze flicked toward their father, the humor fading just a little. "Dad, did you hate Ara now that you're eager to give away her things? Don't you want her to come home anymore?"
Edmund's sharp gaze shifted toward him, and his deep voice carried a note of reprimand. "What nonsense. Ara is my beloved princess. I didn't give anyone permission to do that."
Across the table, Vivienne froze, her delicate smile faltering. Morgana's eyes darted briefly toward her daughter, then back to Edmund, her fingers tightening around her fork.
Ara, meanwhile, hid her growing amusement behind her lowered lashes. Her little act had worked — perfectly.
Edmund turned toward the nearest servant. "Call the butler," he ordered, his voice calm but commanding. "I want to know who dared to touch my daughter's room."
Moments later, the butler hurried in, bowing respectfully. "Yes, sir."
"Explain," Edmund said firmly. "Who authorized any changes in Ara's room?"
The butler hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "Sir, Madam Morgana—"
Before he could finish, Morgana stood abruptly, her voice cutting through his words like silk over steel. "That's enough." She smiled, though the expression didn't reach her eyes. "I was the one who gave the order. Vivienne mentioned that the room looked gloomy, so I simply wanted to brighten it up before Ara's next visit. I thought it would make her homecoming warmer."
Her words were smooth, practiced — but there was a tremor beneath the polish.
Edmund's brows drew together. "Without my permission?"
Morgana hesitated, then forced a gentle laugh. "It was nothing serious, Edmund. You weren't around, and I only meant well. I wanted the house to feel livelier."
Sean scoffed quietly. "Livelier? By taking over her room?"
Vivienne flinched, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's not what Mother meant, Sean…"
But Edmund's voice silenced her instantly. "Enough."
He rose slowly from his seat, the quiet scrape of his chair echoing through the room. His calm was gone; what remained was controlled anger, the kind that chilled rather than burned.
"This is my house," he said, his tone deep and steady. "No one makes decisions here without my knowledge — especially not about my daughter's room."
The room fell silent. The authority in his voice left no room for argument.
Morgana swallowed hard, her carefully painted smile stiff. "Of course, dear. It won't happen again."
Edmund gave a curt nod. "Ara's room will be restored exactly as it was. Tonight."
"Yes, sir," the butler replied quickly before hurrying out.
Ara sat quietly, watching the scene unfold with hidden satisfaction. Morgana's graceful composure was cracking, and Vivienne's hands trembled slightly under the table. Ara didn't need to say a word; her silence was enough.
She lowered her gaze, hiding a small smile as warmth bloomed in her chest — not just from victory, but from the way her father and brother had stood by her side without hesitation.
Edmund turned to her then, his tone softening. "You're my daughter, Ara," he said quietly. "Don't ever think this house isn't yours."
Her heart softened, her earlier mischief fading into genuine affection. "Thank you, Dad," she murmured.
Sean leaned back, smirking. "See? I told you no one could take your place."
Ara chuckled softly, giving him a playful look. "You're still annoying though."
"Annoyingly perfect," he replied, winking.
Edmund's lips curved faintly, the tension easing from his shoulders. But before the moment could pass, he looked at her once more, his eyes searching. "Tell me, Ara… are you happy?"
Ara's smile brightened. She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Yes," she whispered. "You're the best dad ever."
Sean gasped in mock pain, clutching his heart. "Ouch! That hurts, Ara. What about me?" he said dramatically, stumbling back a step. "I thought I was your favorite person!"
Ara giggled, her laughter light and genuine — a sound that filled the room like sunshine. "Oh, Sean…" she teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "You're the best brother."
Sean straightened instantly, pretending to puff out his chest in pride. "Now that's more like it."
Edmund chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled both of them into a warm embrace. For the first time in what felt like years, the house didn't feel cold or distant. The laughter, the playful teasing, the soft exchange — it was as if time had turned back, and everything broken was slowly mending.
The three of them — father, daughter, and son — forgot completely about the other two at the table. Morgana and Vivienne sat silently, their presence fading into the background as warmth filled the air between the family who truly belonged.
In that little circle of laughter, the walls of the mansion seemed to breathe again.
Edmund watched Ara laugh softly, her eyes glowing like they used to. She's happy again, he thought, his heart swelling.
He looked upward for a brief second, his gaze softening. Our Ara is smiling, my love, he whispered in his heart to his late wife. Our family is doing okay now. You can rest easy.
And as Ara's laughter echoed faintly through the hall, Edmund felt something he hadn't in years — peace.