Last night had been a blur after the announcement that Gus had been found not far from the local village.

Lavinia remembered very little, but in her dim awareness of her half waking dream, she was aware of a deep panic rising inside her chest and devouring every cell of her being, but she was so engulfed in sleep she could do nothing to shake the consuming panic. She was aware of crying out in her dreams, reaching for her parents in the darkness, screaming for them to come back. A strangled whimpering escaped her, growing more and more desperate until suddenly, she was being shaken. She felt a hand grasping at her waist and one firmly planted on her cheek.

Lavinia’s eyes shot open, filled with fear of her dream ans panic at the danger she felt waking somewhere other than her own bed. Her body tensed ready for a fight, and then recognition flooded her. It was just Alaric, but the suspicion remained.

The memory hit her like a ton of brick. When Gus had arrived, he didn’t only vring with him the joy of his being alive, and thankfully on the mend. He also brought pain with him.

He’d asked Alaric to retrieve his pack from the floor on the other side of the bed. With the directions to open it and give Lavinia the contents of the side pocket.

Alaric had opened the bag towards her, which had shielded the contents from her immediate view. He froze briefly before reaching into the bag.

As he removed his hand, Lavinia caught the sight of the beautiful deep purple velvet adorned with gleaming gold embroidery. Alaric rose from where he was crouched over the bag with the garment in his hand.

Lavinia reached out shakily to brush the tips of her fingers along the beading. She drew her hand back with a snap shaking her head as if refusing to touch the smooth, lush fabric would make the implications deniable for a moment longer.

She looked at Gus and he bowed his head in return, his grief plain.

“All of them?” She whispered.

“Yes” he returned.

Her hand finally moved to rest on the fabric resting in Alaric’s grasp. She had felt her knees give out, but she never hit the floor. Alaric caught her with one arm around the waist and gently lowered her to the floor onlooker be damned. His other hand released the scarf into her grip as her pulled her head against his chest.

It took her a while to realize the grief filled wails were coming from her. Her tears flooded his shirt, and nothing mattered except for the velvet she clutched and the hands now holding her together in her grief.

She vaguely remembered Alaric helping her stand at some point and helping her back to their rooms on the other side on the manor.