Diluc Ragnivindr lived a life punctuated by grief and sorrow.

After the death of his father on his 18th birthday long ago, he became secluded and closed off. He threw himself at his work at the Dawn Winery, hoping to drown out his sadness in paperwork and night shifts at Angel's Share.

Oh, but you were a persistent little thing, finding ways to worm yourself into his cold heart. You breathed warmth back into him, it seemed, the way he slowly turned his life back around the moment you became a prominent person in his day-to-day.

Still, the grief is there, always. Lingering, festering in his chest like mold. It bubbles up some days and spills over, like today.

It's a quiet evening in the Winery, a pleasant night in fall. Outside it is dark already, illuminated only by the lamps outside of the Manor.

Diluc and you find yourselves already in bed, as most married couples do each night.

Diluc has his head in your lap as you card your soft fingers through his red, unruly hair. His red eyes are dimmed in the candlelight of the room as you gaze down upon him. His face is taut with thoughts in his head.

He opens his mouth to speak, a soft and gruff sound in the quiet of the night.

"My father would have loved you," he murmurs, lips pressed to the spot on the bedsheets which cover your thigh.

It's a fact which he mourns everyday. He spends his life wishing Crepus Ragnivindr had lived long enough to see the man Diluc had become. It's pitiful, for Diluc.