I Refuse to be the Cannon Fodder!

"If you're going to talk about Mom, you might as well come in," Celestia said reluctantly, making her way back into her room without looking back. She could feel his hesitation, but after a moment, her father walked in with a determined stride.

She sat in one of the chairs beside the round wooden table near her bed, gesturing for him to take the only other chair in the room. The Duke complied without a word.

He looked completely out of place in her bright yellow room, adorned with gold accents. The white and gold chair he sat on seemed far too small and delicate for his large frame. As she watched him quietly steal glances around the room, it dawned on her: this was his first time here.

Before her mother's death, the family had lived together in the same room. Celestia hadn't even had a room of her own because her mother insisted she stay close, refusing to let her sleep alone even after she became a teenager.

And after her death...

Celestia pushed the thought aside. Although it infuriated her that he hadn't visited her even once in the seven years since, the sight of him sitting awkwardly in her dainty chair was—unexpectedly—almost cute.

She scowled, banishing the thought. 'Cute? This man is a walking guidebook on how not to raise children. Despicable is what he is.'

"If you're done looking around, you can start talking," she said grudgingly. She had no desire to discuss her mother with this man, but even she had to admit the conversation was long overdue.

Her father's face flickered with hurt, but she ignored the pang of guilt in her chest. She wouldn't let herself repeat past mistakes.

"Celestia... did something happen at the academy?" the Duke asked, his cold voice tinged with uncharacteristic concern.

"You said you wanted to talk about Mom, Father. And no, nothing happened at the academy. I'm doing perfectly well there," she replied curtly.

"You've changed a lot in just a year," he said, not as a question, but as an observation. A statement.

"I grew up. It's not like I could stay the same forever." Her tone was flippant, though her heart pounded. She had never spoken so dismissively to him before. No, scratch that—she had never spoken to him in any tone that wasn't sweet and endearing in the past.

"I see," he said quietly.

A heavy silence hung between them, both uncertain of how to proceed.

"Your mother-"

"Mom-"

They spoke simultaneously, then stiffened awkwardly.

"You go first," her father offered.

"No, you came to see me for a reason. Go ahead. I'll speak after you're done," Celestia insisted, her voice polite but firm.

The Duke studied his daughter for a moment, sighing when it became clear she wouldn't budge. She had changed so much in a single year, with no trace of her once bubbly personality remaining. The realization left a hollow ache in his chest. She hadn't smiled once since returning home from the temple, and a quiet fear crept over him: perhaps she never would again.

But he set aside his worries for the moment. It was clear she wouldn't open up about anything unrelated to her mother.

"First, I want to apologize for my behavior this morning," he began. "I should have given you the chance to explain before jumping to conclusions." He paused briefly before continuing. "Second, where did you find the artifact? I know the recording crystal wasn't in the Memorial."

Celestia didn't lie. "Mom gave it to me a few days before Skye was born. I only recently discovered its true purpose and completed the other artifact she made to pair with it. The projection artifact from the Mage Tower wasn't compatible with Mom's crystal because it's too advanced. Hers was just the prototype."

Her father processed her words silently, his expression contemplative.

"Are there more?" he asked hesitantly, his once-lifeless eyes now glinting with a faint spark of hope.

"Yes," Celestia admitted, choosing not to hide the truth. While some of the recordings were addressed to her and her brothers, most were meant for her father. As much as she wanted to be selfish and keep them all for herself, she couldn't bring herself to deny her mother's last wishes.

"Then… would you please give them to me?" His voice cracked as he spoke, betraying his vulnerability.

"No," she refused almost instinctively.

The Duke's face fell. Though he desperately wanted to hear his wife's recordings, he knew they were entrusted to their daughter. If she asked him to beg, he would. If she demanded he kneel, he would drop to the floor without hesitation. He was even prepared to hand over his entire fortune to her if it came to that.

Sensing that something troublesome was about to happen, Celestia quickly added, "I mean, I'll give them to you- but only one at a time. Mom left a lot for all of us. If I handed them all over at once, you'd probably watch them day and night without stopping, and you'd regret it later."

She knew this because she had made the same mistake. It hadn't taken her long to repair the artifact her mother had left behind using the projector as a reference. She had stayed up all night watching the recordings, devouring nearly a quarter of them before realizing she needed to pace herself and cherish each moment. She had no doubt her father would do the same, if not worse.

Her words seemed to lift his spirits. His expression brightened, and for a moment, he looked genuinely touched. "Then I'll look forward to it," he said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it.

Celestia was taken aback. She had only ever seen two expressions on her father's face: his default stern demeanor and the rare, blissful look he reserved for her mother. The difference was so subtle that only their family could distinguish between the two. Yet today, she had seen more expressions from him than in the past seven years combined.

She shook her head, dispelling her thoughts. 'What does it matter?' While she admired the love her parents had shared, it also terrified her. Seeing the wreck her father had become after her mother's death, she knew she never wanted that kind of dependency. If love meant such devastation, she would rather live her life alone.

Clearing her throat, Celestia focused back on her father. "I have one condition for letting you watch the recordings."

The Duke raised an eyebrow but remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate.

"You can watch some of them alone, but for the others, you'll need to watch with all three of my brothers."

He frowned. "Can't we each watch them separately-"

"No," Celestia interrupted firmly. "Mother would have wanted all of you to watch them together."

Her father fell silent, nodding after a moment of thought.

She suppressed a sigh of relief. Truthfully, she didn't want her brothers watching the recordings-especially not Jeremiah and Devon. But her mother wasn't hers alone. As much as she disliked them, they were grieving her loss just as deeply.

Her eldest brother, once kind and gentle, had turned into a venomous viper and a workaholic. Her second brother, who couldn't even hurt a fly, had become a sword-obsessed maniac, taking out his anger on anyone who crossed him. She knew from the novel that both of them blamed themselves for their mother's death, even though it was beyond their control.

Although she didn't excuse their actions, she understood them. All five of them- including little Skye- had become messed up in one way or another.

Her heart ached at the thought, her eyes dimming. She didn't want to be part of this family anymore, but this was all her mother had left her. To walk away would feel like abandoning her last connection to the woman she had loved most in the world.

"I think we've covered everything that needed to be discussed. You can leave now, Father. I'd like to rest," Celestia said, her voice quieter than before. She needed time to herself to process her emotions and rethink her decisions.

Her father hesitated. He glanced at her darkened expression, clearly at a loss for words. In the end, he nodded silently and stood to leave.

At the door, he paused, turning back to her one last time. He hesitated, as though questioning whether it was right to leave her alone, but then it struck him: she had been alone ever since her mother died. And in that moment, he realized he no longer had the right to interfere when she so clearly didn't want him to.

His heart clenched as he quietly made his way back to his study.

Only when his footsteps had completely faded did Celestia rise from her chair. She returned to her bed, her mind consumed by memories of her mother.

Her stomach twisted in hunger, but her appetite was gone.