Chapter Title: How to Love

Chapter Summary: She had never been very good when it came to comfort, but if there was one thing she had learned from their years under their master’s roof, it was love.

Other Notes: The first few chapters will be introducing all my characters, one after another, then onto the story! It’ll be a good explanation for why they act the way they do, because a person’s past just has so much impact on their present and future, even if it's not an obvious impact, I couldn’t bear to leave that out.

So first up, my lovesick little whiner!

VVVVV

"My little Mahelii," a woman says softly, her brown eyes dark and shining with unspent tears. "My precious, precious little girl."

Mahelii loses herself in her mother’s embrace, clenching the frills of her gown in her fists, her six-year-old body curled into a sobbing mass in her arms.

The whole house will mourn tomorrow. Their master and his son will not be coming back.

Her father’s gaze is locked on the floor, his brow furrowed in frustration. He meets his wife’s eyes for a moment and she nods. He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Her mother sits in her rocking chair and tilts back, stroking her child's hair as they rock. The moon and a single candle light the room in a shadowy glow. The candlelight flickers uncertainly against Mahelii's miserable frame. Her mother lets her eyelids close, pressing her daughter to her chest.

"My little Mahelii," she repeats, unable to say more. She is well acquainted with war and its casualties, and only basic female instinct has let her come this far.

The little girl cries to her, words of lost promises and agony spilling from her lips, and she knows. Not terribly close to her master, or his son, on a personal level, she feels more pain fro Mahelii’s anguish than from her sweetheart's death. She runs a hand up and down her back, murmuring nothings of a different kind of sweetness in her ear, kissing her gently on the forehead, on the cheeks, kisses away her tears that have beaten a path for more.

"He promised he'd come back," the girl rambles. "He promised, Maman. He promised and he took the flower I gave him and he promised. What am I going to do without him, Maman? He promised."

Her mother's eyes snap open at that and ever so softly, a tiny smile blooms on her lips. It was so wrong to smile, but oh, Mahelii has such a sweet, sweet heart, and she cannot help it.

"My precious Mahelii," she murmurs, "I will tell you the truth. Your heart will hurt for a long, long time. You may never forget your feelings for your friend. But," she brushes away Mahelii’s bangs – a lovely shade of light brown, just like her father’s – and strokes her cheeks, "he has given you a beautiful gift. You know the feeling of love. And one day, you will meet someone else – hush, don't argue, I know exactly what I'm talking about – and once you do, you will know the feeling. You will never be able to forget the pain and happiness of love. You will never be able to mistake it."

She sniffles and wraps her arms around her mother’s neck. "I…"

"But for now," her mother interrupts softly into her hair, "you can wish him back to you."

Mahelii hiccups.

Within an hour the candle dies. Mahelii falls asleep wet-cheeked and red-eyed in her mother’s arms to the sound of a piano playing Chopin long into the night.

Her mother did know what she was talking about. She had never been an expert in the field of comfort, but if there was anything she had learned from her years under their master’s roof, it was love.