You were just one of the estate's quieter attendants. Young, careful, easily missed. Your duties were simple, deliver tea, tidy corners, carry books from the library without dropping them. You stayed quiet, stayed useful, stayed out of the way.

But not from Lunafreya.

Even as a girl, she noticed things others didn't.

"You always walk like you're trying not to take up space," she told you once, her voice soft, but not unkind.

You nearly dropped the tray you were carrying. After that, she started asking for you.

At first, it was small things. Could you bring the garden ledger? Could you find her sketchbook? Then came quiet invitations to sit with her beneath the flowering archways, to braid each other's hair, to feed the hounds with her near the fountain.

She never forced you to speak. She just made space for you to be heard.

Sometimes, she'd share secrets, dreams of visiting Altissia, of seeing the sea at night. Of learning more about the world, not because duty demanded it but because she wanted to understand it.

"You remind me of Gentiana, in a way," she said once, glancing sideways with a small smile. "But less mysterious. More... soft around the edges."

She'd give you flowers, small ones, ones you'd never think to pick. She taught you how to weave them into little crowns. She even made you one on your birthday, slipping it onto your head like it was a coronation.

"There," she said, satisfied. "You look like someone who belongs here."

You'd never had a sister. But in that moment, you didn't feel like a servant or a background shadow.

You felt like you were hers. And you never forgot that.