Chapter 527: Chapter 527: Unwelcome curiosity
Chapter 527 – Unwelcome curiosity
Noah was speechless. The sound coming out of Marigold’s mouth was wrenching, echoing through the world of ice like the cry of a goddess damned by the heavens.
What Noah didn’t know was that it was actually the case. Still, the unknown was never something he appreciated.
So he approached Marigold, ignoring her erratic behaviour and unceasing cries, and pressed his right hand against her face, sticky with blood.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Make me understand, Idalia Marigold."
He whispered, and instantly the cries halted, and Noah began to witness a strange sight.
A young Marigold, eyes full of tears, bullied by other children.
Marigold had been left out since she was born, all because of her strange skin. The Celestial had never encountered such a thing. And when something new appeared among them, they either marvelled at it or denied it completely.
In Marigold’s case, it was obvious which they chose.
Her brother, Apollo, was the only one who ever showed care for her. Or so she believed.
Because even he, in the end, wanted nothing but to satisfy his own hunger by making her a slave to his desires. And as time passed, she herself became a slave to her own — a desire that found no other outlet but him.
So she continued, drowning herself in his embrace, accepting whatever acts and games he imposed just to not be abandoned.
He was the only one she had.
Her father never cared about his offspring. And her mother...Marigold truly could not recall a single day she had seen her. To anyone watching, it seemed as though she had never existed.
But she had.
Her mother simply hated her own children at a level that rivalled — or perhaps surpassed — her father’s overwhelming indifference.
It was suffocating to live in such an environment. Worse still to grow up in it. And that, even as a True Child blessed by the universe with a talent few could fathom.
After all, what was the use of power if life itself became meaningless? Was power enough to fill the emptiness gnawing at her existence? Was power enough to make someone love her?
That was the conclusion she arrived at naturally, after years of insecurity, jealousy, and hidden resentment.
So besides seeking acknowledgement from her brother by satisfying his wicked desires, Marigold learned to instil fear in those around her through her power.
They began to act as though they loved her. All of it born from fear. Which she either didn’t know, or chose not to face.
Fear was indeed a poison.
Slowly, steadily, Marigold began to love the sound of others saying they loved her more than she loved herself. Even knowing it was false. At least it kept her going.
It kept her living.
It was during those times she became pregnant with her brother’s child. And as fate would have it, that was the exact moment she stumbled upon Elijah Lightbringer — the youngest of the Lightbringer Family — at an event.
Love at first sight, she thought immediately. But it was more than that. The way Elijah spoke, looked, and carried himself around her was enough to make her withered, tormented heart quicken.
She fell deeply in love with him and wanted nothing but to be with him.
But how?
She didn’t know how. So she lived with that love inside her for hundreds of years, watching her daughter grow up.
The unwanted daughter. The proof of her brother’s stain on her. The one she loathed with everything she had.
And yet it was that same daughter who caused Apollo to be locked away, giving Marigold the opportunity to finally go after Elijah.
He didn’t accept, of course.
He was already in love with another Celestial girl at the time. Marigold couldn’t believe it.
How could a Lightbringer fall in love with someone so plain, so uninteresting, so weak?
"What about me?" She had asked herself constantly, sitting in a corner of her room, scratching her face until only blood and ruined flesh remained.
"What about me? What about me? I am better! I am a True Child! I love you more! Elijah! I love you more! So why not me? Why not?"
Again. And again. And again.
She asked endlessly. No answer came. Not that she expected one. No one had ever bothered to answer her.
And with her brother chained, even that small, painful source of comfort was no longer available.
Marigold snapped.
She stopped caring about anything. She used her power to break Justicia completely and thoroughly, then discarded her toward Soleil like used clothes.
She claimed Elijah for herself, forced his family to allow their union, and took him into her world where she did to him what she believed love was.
She hoped — oh, she truly did — that showing her love, proving it, would be enough to change everything.
But how does someone who has never been loved, never been cared for, know how to love?
How does someone who was abused by her own brother know anything other than abuse?
How does someone welcomed into the world by her mother’s hatred and her father’s indifference know what it means to love anyone, even her own daughter?
The likelihood of that was low. An exception that proved the point. And Marigold was not among those exceptions.
She loved Elijah the way she had been taught to love.
In a broken, twisted, and abusive way.
That didn’t mean her love wasn’t real. It was. Very much real. She yearned for him, obsessed over him, loved him in the purest capacity she knew.
But the delivery of that love...
"...was the issue all along." Noah whispered to himself, now understanding why Idalia was in the state she was.
He had reached into her mind and glimpsed how Apollonia Elizabeth had come to be. And how the father she had loved so fiercely truly was.
The Prince couldn’t help but shake his head, letting out a slow, shaky breath. He stepped back. He lifted his head toward Marigold and found her expression oddly calm, dazed.
It seemed his intrusion had pulled her back to reality somewhat. Yet the anguish still dripped from every pore of her soul.
Her soul was still fracturing. Just now in a quieter, far deadlier way.
’Oh... is this why they say never to try to understand your enemies?’ Noah wondered, clicking his fingers, releasing Marigold from her chains.
She collapsed like a puppet cut loose from its strings, sprawling on the ground without care, eyes blank, head still bleeding.
She was still muttering. Still Elijah. Always Elijah.
’I was just curious about why she was acting this way.’
Yet look at what he was doing now.
’Curiosity causes understanding. Understanding leads to empathy. Now here I am, my empathy drifting into sympathy for a woman who can hardly be judged for what she’s done.’
And yet she could not be excused for it either.
So what should he do? Condemn her? Save her? Or give her a second chance, like Elijah?
Perhaps they were meant for each other. Just not in this life. But in another, one where Marigold was not broken. One where Justicia did not exist. One where Marigold and Elijah came to know each other and learned to love in a way that suited them both.
Was that how it was supposed to be?
Was it even possible anymore?
And more than anything, did he even have the right to choose for her?
Noah sighed wearily and sat down on the ground, cross-legged, in front of her.
Marigold’s eyes drifted listlessly to him, and Noah offered her a quiet smile.
"Mother-in-law," he breathed warmly. "What do you wish?"
—End of Chapter 527—
