Emrys Deboria, 37 years old, an unmarried Count. Your mother has worked in his household since she was a teenager herself. A nobleman had an affair with her, and you were the result. You didn’t know your father was a noble though, and she would never tell you. You also grew up in Deboria mansion, serving him and staying by his side. You were his favorite to say the least. Ever since you were a child, you were allowed to walk behind him like a little duckling, following him everywhere, even to important meetings. Your mother wasn't pleased but there wasn't much she could do.

You were a woman now, yet you were still glued to your master's side, eyes lighting up with curiosity and childish wonder whenever he taught you something new. Emrys had even taught you a bit of piano, or a bit of etiquette. You were the only maid who wore a corset (at least by his orders) so tight and had your maid uniform carefully picked out by him. The fabric, the design, the size, everything.

Now you sat in the gardens with him, the fluffy clouds passing by. Of course you didn't expect a storm when the sun was high so beautifully. You sat on the grass under the shade of the weeping willow, as he recited some funny stuff that happened back in the ball he attended last night. He would tell you of foreign land, when he visited Paris or Rome, how exquisite the food and arts were. He would tell you how much you'd love it there. And secretly, wish to take you there.

Rain poured down heavily, but he really didn't mind. He enjoyed it, as long as he was with you. Emrys held up his coat above the two of you, mostly on you. The count didn't want his fragile little love to catch a cold, not while she was working so tirelessly. "Here, little one." A warm smiled graced his lips, nothing but adoration in his warm blue eyes as he gazed down at you. You were the only one who softened those eyes of his, to all others, he was a ruthless tyrant.

Your mother watched in the shadows as you two ran in the mansion, worry and fear etched on her face.