Étienne had his fists deeply buried in his pockets as he made his way through the third floor of the chateau. Amelie had forced him out of Aurélie’s room, stating that he needed to get some rest. Naturally, he had complained and fought to stay, yet his companion’s maid kicked him out and ordered him to come back after he had rested. Étienne had no choice but to obey the maid, huffing as he begrudgingly made his way out of the room. The dream he had a few nights prior still lingered on his mind, his mother and the strange woman, who strongly resembled Aurélie, not daring to leave his thoughts. 

As Étienne looked up, he realised that he had come to a stop in front of his mother’s old room. The door was shut, locked most likely, not a speck of dust or dirt on the wood. Hesitantly Étienne held out his hand, pressing down on the door handle. He was not surprised when the handle didn’t budge. It had been well over a year since his father had locked the door, ordering that no one was to enter the room without his permission. 

With a sigh Étienne began to turn around, a soft voice forcing him to turn back around. 

“Darling, I can let you in, you know.”

Caroline stood in her doorway a few rooms away, her arms crossed as she watched her nephew. 

“You do not have to. I did not even mean to come here,” Étienne said, burying his hands once more in his pockets. “Besides, père would not allow it.” 

He watched as his aunt disappeared into her room, coming back shortly with a key in her hand. She clicked her tongue as she walked towards him, shaking her head. 

“She was your mother and you have every right to go into that room. Your father can say what he wants. And besides, he is away visiting Aurélie’s former teacher. Now move aside darling,” Caroline ordered, pushing herself between Étienne and the door. She made quick work of unlocking the door, pushing it open and revealing the room that was beyond. Étienne’s breath hitched as the scent of his mother, alongside dust, filled his nose. His heart twisted and he looked from the room to his aunt. 

“Go on,” Caroline said, giving him a gentle push and pressing the key into his hand. “Just make sure to lock it once you leave.” 

“Thank you,” Étienne stammered, watching as his aunt turned around and walked back to her room. He turned back to his mother’s room. 

After a year of her passing, Étienne noticed that his father did little to change the room. Old clothes were still neatly folded on top of the dresser, while the bed was left unmade as if his mother had gotten up and simply walked out of the room. He felt his heart tug uncomfortably in his chest, looking around and seeing the small hoops of her embroidery projects still resting on the small table next to one of the couches. Her scent still faintly lingered in the room, the familiar smell of elderflowers filling Étienne’s nostrils. It pained him to suddenly be in his mother’s room once more, and the young vampire almost stepped out, in hopes of burying his feelings and forgetting that his mother was long gone. 

Instead, a small bundle of navy cloth resting on top of the fireplace drew his attention. He never recalled its place whenever he visited his mother in her room. Lighting a candle on his way over, the silver cord keeping the cloth in place glimmered in the candlelight and drew Étienne closer. Pulling on the cord, it unravelled and the cloth fell to the side, revealing a small wooden box. The box itself was plain, a simple rose painted on the wooden lid. 

Curious, Étienne lifted the lid and came to face with several neatly folded pieces of parchments, each addressed to his mother. Beginning to sort through, he realised that all of them were written by a woman called Margaux. Taking all of the letters out of the box, Étienne walked back towards the couch, sending up dust as he let himself fall onto the cushions. He found the first letter written by Margaux, unfolding it and beginning to read its contents. 

My dearest Brielle, 

I must thank you once again for your kindness and willingness to help me. It is hard being forced to stay hidden from this world, out of fear that my life will end because of who I am. Perhaps in the near future we could meet up? Auvergne is very beautiful at this time of the year. 

Margaux. 

Étienne thought back through his earlier years, trying to pick someone out from the hundreds of people he had met that went by the name of ‘Margaux’ and who lived in the regions of Auvergne. Unable to put a name to a face, he folded over the next letter which dated back a few months after the first one was sent. 

Dear Brielle, 

I do hope you enjoyed your trip. Your son is so much like you. He already has such a big personality. Thank you for your wonderful gift to me and Renauld. It is a shame that my love will not allow the Dukes to meet me just yet. My greatest wish is to meet your family fully. 

Margaux. 

Whoever this Margaux woman was, she certainly had met Étienne and was someone very dear to the king, even considering him a lover. He was unable to recall his father or any of the other Dukes ever mentioning the former King having anyone that he considered a lover or companion. Curious, Étienne turned to the next letter. 

Dear Brielle, 

Thank you for your wonderful and thoughtful letter. The winter has been tough and I found myself very ill throughout most of it. It did not help that I had to spend it away from the palace. Duke Delacroix was visiting and he and Renauld got into a terrible argument. It seems that he found out about me. Renauld had no choice but to tell the truth. The Duke was not pleased about me secretly marrying into the royal family. I have no doubt that the news of a human woman helping lead this world will spread quickly. 

How backwards this system is. It does not allow for true love. 

I hope you have been well. Has Étienne started walking yet? 

Margaux. 

Étienne’s brows furrowed as he re-read the letter addressed to his mother. A human who married the former king? More confused than before, he picked up another letter, this time dated several months after the last one. 

Brielle, 

The thing I feared most has happened. I did not think this was possible. Even Renauld is shocked. For weeks now I thought that I was plagued with an illness that has left me confined to my bed. Today I found out that I am with child. How is this possible? Are there others out there like me? What will this child be? Will they be accepted in this world?

How I would love to escape all this. Renauld has now doubled the security around the little estate that I have been resting at. I wish nothing more than to walk freely. 

Would it be too much to ask for you to come visit some time? 

Margaux. 

A child born to the former king? Étienne’s heart beat quickly as he placed down the letter and looked at the next letter in the pile. This time it was a draft of a letter sent by his mother, lines neatly crossing out words and sentences. The familiar handwriting of his mother caused his hands to shake as he picked it up. 

Dearest Margaux, 

With the birth of your child approaching so quickly, I do hope you will not find it rude if I make my way to you. The birth of a child is not a time for a new mother to be alone. By the time you read this I should be well on my way. 

Counting down the days until I get to meet your new bundle of joy,

Brielle. 

The dates between the letter that Étienne read and the next one in his lap were quite far apart. Unsure if he had missed any, he got back up from the armchair and searched through the drawers of his mother’s writing desk, unable to find any more. Disappointed, Étienne sat back down, fully opening the next piece of paper and reading it. Once again, it was written in his mother’s hand. 

My dearest Margaux, 

Oh how dark my days have been since your passing. Not a day goes by where I do not think about the life that you, Renauld and your little one could have had. I curse myself that I did not see an attack come sooner. Noel had been saying that rebel groups were sweeping the land and closing in on the palace. If only I had taken it more seriously. A year has gone by since they brought you to me. When our men arrived with the cart my heart stopped beating entirely and the air escaped my lungs. 

How horribly your assailants must have treated you in your final moments. 

Wherever you are, I do hope that you know that I am taking good care of you. While no one knows about the human queen that secretly ruled our world and the child that was born to both a human and vampire, I will forever keep you in my heart. I tend to your resting place every day. It is a nice little hidden spot in my maze, surrounded by your favourite flowers. I have placed a little memory of your unfound child next to you. 

Forever thinking of you,

Brielle. 

Étienne’s breath hitched as he read through his mother’s letters. There were still several letters left, each written on the same day of the year, exactly one year apart. The last one dated back to a couple of months before his mother’s death. Each letter described what had happened in that year, a thorough description of milestones that Étienne had reached and important events that occurred, alongside his mother’s expression of how much she missed her best friend. It pained Étienne to see how badly the death of Margaux had affected his mother, and he was disappointed in himself that he never realised it as he was growing up. While he had no recollection of the woman, she was someone dear to the family. It surprised him that his father never spoke about her. Surely someone so close to his mother did not escape his father’s notice. 

With his heart heavier than before, Étienne placed the letters back into their box, ensuring that the navy cloth that covered the box was wrapped back around it the way it had been found. He spent several minutes looking around the room, the letters still lingering in his mind. His father had mentioned several times that there was no one left to take over the throne and that Renauld never had any children. Was it all a lie to keep the human queen that ruled over them a secret?

Questions swirled around in Étienne’s mind as he gently closed the door to his mother’s room behind him, using the key that his aunt had given him to lock it once more. Burying the key and his fists deeply into his pockets, Étienne began making his way to the gardens. His mother’s letter mentioned that Margaux’s resting place lay hidden within the maze. 

Perhaps there he would find more answers.