CHAPTER 97: A TABLE BENEATH THE SUN (PART 2)

A Table Beneath the Sun

The courtyard shimmered under the soft embrace of the afternoon sun. Warm light spilled across polished stone and silver dishes, tracing the faint ripples of the fountain nearby. The air smelled faintly of herbs and baked bread, mingled with the sweetness of ripened fruit.

Victor sat with quiet composure at the long table beneath a canopy of white silk. The table was broad—crafted from dark oak, its surface smooth enough to mirror the glint of sunlight. Around him, laughter and gentle conversation rippled like wind over calm water.

Sasha sat at his right, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though her gaze wandered—curious, uncertain, yet full of warmth. Across from her, Anna’s voice carried softly, filled with the kind of affection that could only belong to a mother. Ben sat beside her, his presence grounded and steady, like an unspoken pillar of the family.

Ania had taken her place beside Victor, a quiet smile lingering on her lips. "Big brother," she said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. "You’re always so calm when everyone else is nervous."

Victor turned slightly, his gaze meeting hers—steady, calm, the faintest curve of amusement at the edge of his mouth. "If I get nervous," he said, "the rest of you might start to panic."

Ania laughed softly, the sound light as petals brushing the air. "You say that like you’re our shield."

"Maybe I am," Victor replied, his tone teasing but touched with truth.

Before Ania could answer, the quiet hum of footsteps approached. A group of maids stepped forward, moving with careful precision. They carried silver trays that shimmered like captured sunlight. The aroma arrived first—roasted vegetables glazed with honey, warm loaves of bread with steam still rising, and delicate cuts of meat seasoned with herbs that perfumed the air.

At their lead stood Aznea, graceful and composed as ever. "My King, my Queen," she said, her voice carrying gentle reverence, "the meal is ready. If it waits too long, the flavors will lose their soul."

Anna chuckled softly, exchanging a knowing look with Ben. "We wouldn’t want to offend the cooks, would we?"

Ben grinned. "Especially when they’ve been standing in the sun all morning for us."

Anna turned to the rest, her tone light. "Come, let’s eat before this beautiful meal grows lonely."

The maids moved in silence, placing each dish before them with elegant rhythm. First came plates of golden bread brushed with butter and herbs, then bowls of slow-cooked vegetables—carrots, onions, and mushrooms simmered in spiced broth. Crystal goblets were filled—fine red wine for Anna and Ben, while Victor, Ania, and Sasha were served fruit juice, its color so rich it could almost be mistaken for wine, save for its softer, sweeter scent.

Sasha leaned forward slightly, her eyes widening at the sight. "It’s beautiful," she whispered.

Ania grinned. "Don’t be shy, Lady Sasha. You’ll hurt the cook’s heart if you just stare at it."

Sasha flushed lightly, then lifted her glass in a small, unsure gesture. "To... family," she said, voice trembling but sincere.

Ben’s eyes softened. "To family," he echoed.

The others followed, their glasses rising together. A quiet chime rang as glass met glass—soft, resonant, and fleeting, like a promise carried by the wind.

When they began to eat, the world seemed to slow. The courtyard filled with simple sounds—the soft scrape of forks, the murmur of conversation, the gentle rustle of leaves overhead.

Victor’s gaze wandered from one face to another. His mother’s warm laughter, his father’s content silence, Ania’s bright eyes, Sasha’s hesitant smile—it all blended into something almost surreal.

He didn’t speak for a while. He didn’t need to. The warmth filling his chest said enough.

Sasha tried a piece of roasted meat, her expression changing as soon as the flavor hit her tongue. "It’s... incredible," she murmured.

Aznea, standing at a respectful distance, allowed herself a small smile. "I’ll be sure to tell the kitchen, my lady."

Ania, unable to resist teasing, leaned closer to Sasha. "Careful, Lady Sasha. If you compliment Aznea too much, she’ll make you eat twice as much tomorrow."

"Would that be so terrible?" Sasha replied with a soft laugh. "I wouldn’t mind."

Anna smiled at the exchange, her voice gentle. "It’s nice to hear laughter again."

Ben nodded, setting his glass down. "We’ve had enough silence these past years."

The mood softened—joyful yet reflective. Victor looked down at his plate, then up again at the people around him. For the first time, the word family didn’t feel foreign. It felt earned.

The sun warmed his skin. A light breeze brushed through the courtyard, carrying the scent of the garden.

Sasha, sitting beside him, glanced up and caught him watching her. "You’re quiet again," she said softly.

Victor smiled faintly. "Just thinking."

"About what?"

He paused. "How strange it feels... that peace can be this simple."

Her eyes softened. "Maybe that’s what makes it special."

He said nothing after that, only nodded slightly, and the silence that followed felt full—not empty.

Ania’s laughter broke it again. "Big brother, you’re getting too serious again! Eat before I finish all the bread."

Victor smirked. "You couldn’t if you tried."

"Want to bet?" she challenged, already reaching for another slice.

Anna’s amused sigh joined their playfulness. "Don’t fight at the table."

Ben’s quiet chuckle followed. "Let them. It keeps them human."

Their words drifted through the courtyard, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the sparkle of the fountain.

As the meal went on, conversation ebbed and flowed—sometimes bright with teasing, sometimes soft with thought. Victor’s world, once defined by loneliness and loss, now seemed touched by a rare kind of light.

When the last of the plates were cleared, and the glasses stood empty but glimmering, he leaned back, watching the scene unfold around him—his father’s steady voice, his mother’s laughter, Ania’s grin, Sasha’s shy smile, Aznea’s quiet grace.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

He felt something shift quietly inside him. A sense of belonging, fragile yet deep, took root in a corner of his soul that had long been hollow.

The maids began clearing the table, their movements soft and practiced. The afternoon sun dipped slightly lower, brushing the courtyard in a softer shade of gold.

Anna stood, her hands resting lightly on the table’s edge. "This," she said, looking around, "is what we’ve been waiting for."

Ben placed his hand over hers. "A family that can finally sit together—and stay."

Victor looked at them both, his lips curving into a faint smile that said everything words could not.

And somewhere deep within, he felt Violet stir—a quiet presence, unseen yet known, her warmth echoing through him like a whisper of destiny fulfilled.

For now, this was enough.

For now, they were whole.