CHAPTER 128: THE FALLEN PRINCESS

Everyone in the land admired her and longed to catch even a glimpse of her beauty.

She was Princess Ashe, the mother of Dominic.

His golden hair and refined face were inherited from her.

The late king had adored his daughter and everyone around her had done the same.

She was so lovely and beautiful that whatever she did seemed angelic.

Even mischief or wrongdoing was easily forgiven.

And above all, she was a princess.

No one could oppose her.

Princess Ashe was bright and free-spirited.

As a child, people praised her charm.

If she ran away from her studies or made selfish demands, those in the palace only laughed at her innocence and forgave her.

Her world was filled with sweets, joy, and endless words of praise.

She sparkled in the center of that world, surrounded by people who spoiled her, dressed her in finery and delighted in her presence.

Gabrant had been ecstatic to marry such a woman, the princess he had admired for so long.

In his joy, he failed to notice her suffering or her confusion.

He had never been skilled in that kind of delicate concern.

But Ashe had quickly grown weary of a life so different from the one she had known inside the royal palace.

For a princess who had lived in freedom and luxury, his household’s way of life—focused on simplicity and discipline—must have felt unbearably restrictive.

—Now, he understood.

The plain furnishings, the modest mansion, the few servants... Everything was different.

There was no one to flatter her or shower her with praise.

Away from the king’s gardens, her playful innocence was no longer seen as charm but as selfishness and her free-spirited nature became nothing but discomfort.

Innocence, after all, was often the same as ignorance.

The low rank of viscount had likely been another source of resentment.

Having once been worshiped as a princess, she now found herself beneath those who had always bowed to her.

At social gatherings and parties, she must have felt humiliation, yet Gabrant had never once considered her feelings.

Even the ladies-in-waiting who had followed her from the castle found their new life unbearable.

"No fine art, no luxuries at all! This place is like a prison! How can the princess live in such a shabby place? Could you not try a little harder to make it decent?"

"How dare you let the princess go to a party in the same dress as last time! Do you wish to shame her?"

Every day, she quarreled with Jude, their butler.

"This food is dreadful! It does not suit the princess’s refined taste!"

They complained to the cook that the meals were too plain.

"And who do you think you are? Just a servant, and yet you dare to argue with the princess’s attendants?"

Their arrogance finally provoked Eline, the head of the household staff, into open anger.

"In the end, you are only a viscount. It is the princess who suffers. How pitiful, that she must endure such conditions! No matter how much her father the king favored you as a general, you should have remembered your station. Truly, the princess is unfortunate..."

In the mornings, at noon, and at night, Ashe poured out her complaints and frustrations, repeating them like a curse.

Gabrant only learned of this later.

It did not take long before her smile vanished, her face darkened with shadows, and her eyes turned on him with hatred.

Soon she began to scorn him, to curse him, and to reject him with bitter looks.

At that time, Gabrant could not understand her suffering, her circumstances, or the changes in her heart.

All he felt was despair, mixed with hatred for what he thought was betrayal.

Blinded by anger, he took mistresses as if to spite her.

Even when he returned to the capital, he no longer went home but stayed at the houses of these women.

Each mistress lived in her own mansion, arranged to her liking, surrounded by servants she had brought from her family.

The first mistress was a noble’s daughter, and her mansion was decorated with elegance and splendor.

The second mistress was a merchant’s daughter, and her mansion was flashy, full of wasted wealth.

Other mistresses had come and gone, but these two remained.

By comparing them, Gabrant finally realized something—every woman had her own tastes.

Perhaps the simple life of a warrior, which he thought was good enough, was impossible for women to accept.

Ashe eventually left his house and taking her maids with her.

She moved to a separate residence on the lands of the Beaumont family and never returned again.

She stopped attending noble parties, stopped showing her face at the palace, and instead locked herself in the estate, where she opened salons and spent her days in luxury and indulgence.

But Gabrant believed she could not have been truly happy. He had made her miserable. He had been a narrow-minded, immature man.

Yet it was already too late. His heart had twisted, warped beyond repair.

From then on, he poured all his passion into war. The battlefield became his only reason to live.

When his son Dominic grew and showed great talent as a warrior, Gabrant felt pride.

Yet at the same time, the boy’s golden hair and face reminded him too much of Ashe.

He could not bear it.

For that reason, he rarely went home, and even when he did, he hardly spoke to his son.

Dominic had inherited Ashe’s features so strongly that Gabrant could not look at him without pain.

Still, Dominic was his son.

His only true son.

He would never acknowledge the son of a merchant’s mistress—such a worthless child could never be accepted.

And yet, despite being neglected, Dominic grew into a fine man.

He became a captain of the knight order, and Gabrant looked forward to the day when he would rise all the way to the top of the order.

He was proud of him.

But then—!