silver blessing | michael kaiser - sfw, f!reader, age gap, widow!reader, european fantasy au, wc: 1169
When you first received your nephew’s letter, you assumed it would be similar to all of the other monthly letters he wrote. Asking of your health, saying how greatly he missed you and your countryside estate, always thinking of the garden where the two of you spent your time together in his youth.
Reminiscing of the years he stayed with you as a child when the smog sickness was too widespread in the capital. Gentle urgings for you to come visit him and the rest of house Ness, that you shouldn’t have to continue with your strict following of the mourning customs. His words echoing that of your sister’s. Your titles and land rights were secured, there was no need to be so vigilant. It had already been two years since the passing of your husband.
You expected the little updates and tidbits about his post in the imperial palace and another one of his endless gratitudes towards how you helped convince his parents that they didn’t need yet another Ness in the royal health ministry.
Indeed this letter did have all that, Alexis’s thin, elegant writing the same as always, soft curves and ink scented with lavender. But towards the end, there was a plea. A plea for you to help one ‘Michael Kaiser’.
Even you, the widowed countess tucked away in the countryside knew the stories and rumors of him. Another bastard son of the late royal princess, given a minor title and the royal surname.
Another entry to contest for the vacant crown prince position. Michael Kaiser was rumored to be the most promising despite his lowly origins, he had already obtained a position in the coveted royal guard before he had even revealed his royal ties.
(There were other rumors of course, that this Michael made a name for himself in the antiquated, barbaric arena. That he killed the arena’s prized lindwurm with his bare hands and made a noteworthy amount of coin from his bettings.
Whispers of how he grew up on the west side of the abandoned canal, just another orphaned sewer hunter in that dirty lawless place built out of mud and smelling of dead fish and rot. Whispers of other unsavory things that you did not hear because that was then you gave your servants a gentle warning look.)
You did not think you would ever be involved in court politics and it’s tiresome drama again, you had barely been able to handle the fighting with your late husband’s family, yet here was your most beloved nephew gently asking if you could help this Michael fellow establish himself amongst the nobility. His framing was quite persuasive, your nephew knew your worries too well, that an unmarried noble woman of low ranking had very little power, even as a widow.
But if Michael Kaiser truly was like the rumors did he really need a reclusive countess like yourself? You were uncertain of his age but he must at least be ten years your junior.
The rumors stated he was intimidating yet incredibly handsome. Surely there were better options for him, younger more prestigious and wealthier noblewomen that would be eager to marry the potential future crown prince.
You would hate to tie down a young man with so much potential in a loveless marriage. You knew how miserable that was.
So you sent your dear nephew a response back, stating that you would be willing to help his friend in other ways aside from marriage and you assumed that would be the end of it.
You did not expect for an unannounced visitor to arrive at your estate a few weeks later. A pleasant spring afternoon, you were dressed in one of your simple lightweight gowns, a sunhat thrown on haphazardly when one of your younger maids ran to your location in the gardens. Her cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling with excitement. For a moment it felt like this mysterious visitor was her master and not you as she practically rushed you to the entryway.
If you were someone else, perhaps you would have noticed the large bouquet of impossibly blue roses in his gloved hands. Or perhaps the intense blue of his eyes, his long golden hair fighting against the neat style it was tucked into, the shape of his firm lips, his pale cheeks. Perhaps the thick black fur perched upon his shoulders or the rich materials of his suit would have drawn your eyes.
But around his neck he wore a simple chain and on that chain was a small silver pendant, almost shaped like a teardrop and polished to perfection. Yet you knew it was not a mere pendant, that the teardrop was a blessed token, unique to the old western side temple of Eostre, the token only given to newly married women who paid a worthy amount to obtain the fertility goddess’s blessing.
You had only held the token for a short afternoon back when you were a young bride yet you still remembered it quite well. The weight too heavy in your palm back then, heavy with the expectations of your family, heavy with the cold words of your new husband, your naïve dreams and young heart shattered. That little token in your palm more stifling than the dark colors and heavy fabrics you had to now wear as a married noblewoman.
Only in your hands for less than a day before you offered it to a young boy, a poor orphan no doubt based on the rags he wore, the dirt caked onto his body and hair. How he hissed and shrunk back as you gently handed him the token, blue eyes like that of a wild kitten.
The little token would serve him far better than it ever could you. You forgot exactly what you said but perhaps it was for him to use it, to sell it, to live. Sometimes you had wondered what had happened to that young boy, but not often. Your thoughts were always too pessimistic before the passing of your husband.
The first letter of your given name delicately carved into the center of that silver pendant around Michael Kaiser’s neck. That same token from all those years ago. Yours.
His movements, stiff yet confident, taking you out of your thoughts. Now only focused on the blue of his eyes. No longer that of a little feral kitten. Perhaps now that of a lion. Of something more powerful. More dangerous.
It seemed you would soon find out. His body shifting to kneel before you, blue roses extended upwards as an offering. His eyes unblinking as he looked up at you, gaze so ferocious it felt misplaced, unreasonably fervent, too beautiful.
Better suited for a goddess in her sacred temple, not for here on your doorstep, not for you. But it tugged at your heart, made warmth bloom that never did when you were a young bride. Was this how it was like to hold someone’s heart? How lovely.
