And so, from that moment on, every meal Bellatrix ate was rich with meat.
Leandro refused to leave for the Bellatore territory until she had eaten so much that her stomach was round and tight, and she had let out a satisfied burp.
Now, overstuffed and drowsy, Bellatrix lay sprawled across the carriage seat like a ragdoll. A series of small hiccups escaped her lips.
“What if you throw up?” Leandro asked flatly, not looking up from the documents he was reviewing.
“But this carriage is expensive. It would be a waste. And it would be hard on the cleaners.”
“...Why are you worrying about that?” Leandro sounded genuinely baffled.
Bellatrix slowly pushed herself into a sitting position.
The bright blue dress, the fur-lined cloak, and the red ribbon tying her dark hair back—the entire ensemble suited her so well, it was as if she had been born to wear such finery.
‘There’s a lot to buy,’ Leandro thought.
The Bellatore mansion had nothing for a child. The only things that even came close were his own childhood belongings, but those were buried deep in a storage room, shrouded in dust and memories.
And he had no desire to give her those.
For a brief moment, a shadow of the past flickered through his mind, and he set the documents aside.
Bellatrix was still staring at him.
“You are now the Lady of House Bellatore,” he said, meeting her gaze. “If we have to throw out a carriage, we will. The money I earn in the time it takes you to draw a single breath is enough to buy a new one. Whatever you want, just say the word.”
Bellatrix’s eyes widened in theatrical admiration. “Mister, you’re actually kind of cool.”
She let out a small chuckle, mumbling something about how money was the best.
For a second, Leandro felt as though he were facing a stingy old miser, not a little girl. She didn’t act like a commoner, but rather like an adult who had seen all the hardships life had to offer.
And that bothered him, like a splinter lodged just beneath the skin.
“I still don’t want to throw up,” Bellatrix muttered, more to herself than to him. “It hurts.” She turned to gaze out the carriage window, and Leandro’s eyes followed. Outside, the trees were ablaze in the brilliant, fading colors of late autumn.
“Besides,” she added, “a person should be rich in spirit.”
“That’s nonsense,” Leandro said without hesitation.
Bellatrix shrugged, her tone indifferent. “Just something poor people tell themselves to feel better.”
“You actually understand something for once, Mister.”
On their first day as father and daughter, they were discovering they agreed on a surprising number of things. Leandro found himself rather satisfied with this familial arrangement, born as it was from a whim.
A moment later, a sharp rap came at the carriage window. Leandro lowered it to find Alessia, who bowed her head slightly. “Your Grace, we are approaching our destination.”
Recognizing the knight, Bellatrix’s face brightened, and she waved with an excitement that was entirely childlike. Alessia offered a small, rare smile in return before bowing again.
“She’s an excellent knight,” Leandro remarked. It occurred to him then that he needed to assign knights for Bellatrix’s protection. It wasn’t just things he needed, but people. A tutor, a governess, personal guards. Alessia was already a strong candidate for her escort.
As his mind rapidly sorted through the tasks awaiting them, he asked suddenly, “Have you ever used a gate before?”
Bellatrix clung desperately to the trunk of a withered tree, her small body wracked with heaves.
Only moments ago, the world had been a tapestry of autumn reds and golds. Now, they were surrounded by towering evergreens blanketed in pristine white snow. The scene was breathtakingly beautiful.
Bellatrix, however, was in no state to admire it.
The recoil of traveling through the gate, crossing the distance to the Bellatore territory in an instant, had slammed into her with the force of a physical blow, overwhelming her with violent nausea.
“Young Miss, are you alright?” Alessia asked softly, gently patting her back.
Leandro clicked his tongue.
When the carriage had stopped near the shimmering portal, Bellatrix had stared, wide-eyed, and asked what it was. Leandro had explained it was a way to travel long distances instantly, but that a small number of first-time users experienced motion sickness.
‘So, like a tunnel or something?’ she had mumbled to herself before nodding with confidence. ‘I’ve never used one, but I should be fine.’
Apparently, she was one of the rare few.
Leaning weakly into Alessia’s arms, Bellatrix looked like a wilted weed.
“No one has ever died from motion sickness,” Leandro stated gruffly. Seeing her so pale and miserable stirred an unfamiliar irritation in him. The child was already far too thin, and now she was listless, groaning softly in pain. But this was a different sort of irritation than he was used to. It felt like the sharp, protective anger that had flared in him when he’d first seen the bruises on her arm.
“You’re awful, Mister…” she managed to gasp.
Even in her misery, she had the energy to complain.
“See? You’re not dead yet.”
Leandro unfastened his heavy, fur-lined cloak. He carefully took Bellatrix from Alessia’s arms and wrapped the thick fabric snugly around her small frame. In an instant, she was a tiny, bundled lump.
Bellatrix sighed, the warmth a small comfort.
Watching her, Leandro hesitated for a moment before awkwardly patting her on the back.
“Ugh, don’t do that…” she groaned. “I think I’m going to be sick again.”
He stopped immediately.
“You sure do talk a lot,” he grumbled. “If you’re not feeling well, just be quiet and rest.”
For once, Bellatrix didn’t argue. She let out one last soft groan and fell silent.
“...Can I throw up on your cloak?”
“Do you take me for a fool?”
Despite his sharp tone, his hand returned to her back, the pats now impossibly gentle. Before long, her soft, steady breathing filled the quiet air.
Bellatrix had fallen asleep in his arms.
“...Ugly little thing,” Leandro muttered, gazing down at her sleeping face.
But against his will, the corners of his lips curled into the faintest of smiles.
Once Leandro was settled back in the carriage with Bellatrix, he gave the quiet order to move. The knights, who had been waiting, began their preparations for departure, their movements stiff with shock.
“...Did you see that?” one of them whispered.
“I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
“He hasn’t taken a blow to the head recently, has he?”
“...There’s no other explanation. She really is his hidden daughter.”
Duke Leandro Bellatore, the most formidable ruler in his family’s long history, was infamous for his profound indifference to others. Like the Bellatore lords before him, he was a man of few emotions, a cold and callous figure who disregarded anything he deemed unimportant.
Yet here he was, gently cradling a child he’d plucked from an orphanage just yesterday, his voice lowered so as not to wake her.
To the knights who had served him for years, the sight was more terrifying than any monster said to lurk in the Monti Boreali.
“The Young Miss isn’t ordinary, either,” Alessia, who had looked after Bellatrix at the inn, spoke up. She already referred to the girl as a Bellatore, treating her with the respect due the Duke’s daughter. Since Leandro had claimed her, they, as loyal knights, had no grounds to object.
“Yesterday,” Alessia continued, “she kicked His Grace in the back.”
The knights’ faces went pale.
“What kind of maniac does that?!”
Even Alessia seemed shaken as she recounted the tale. “His Grace had just finished bathing. He made a comment about how, even after washing up, the Young Miss was still ugly.”
At that, the knights winced in unison. That certainly sounded like their lord.
“So the Young Miss shot back, ‘Did you contribute anything to my face?’ and started arguing with him. When that wasn’t enough, she kicked him.”
Several knights rubbed their ears, certain they had misheard. But Alessia’s expression was dead serious. The shock rippling through the group deepened.
Two things astounded them.
First, Bellatrix’s sheer, unmitigated audacity.
Second, Leandro’s reaction.
He had teased a child. He had bantered with her. Such a small, simple thing—and for him, utterly unthinkable.
“...She really must be his biological child.”
How else could such a tiny creature be so fearless in the Duke’s presence? It had to be blood.
And so, whispering amongst themselves, the knights slowly came to a shared conclusion: Bellatrix Bellatore was, without a doubt, the Duke’s trueborn daughter.
The northern region had earned several nicknames: the den of monsters, the land of eternal snow, the home of black beasts.
The "black beasts" referred to House Bellatore. Known for their exceptional strength, far beyond human limits, they were one of the few families in the empire to possess black hair, a trait that inspired both reverence and fear. The roaring black lion on their family crest was a testament to that legacy.
“You have the same black color as me,” Leandro said as Bellatrix stirred. Still half-asleep, she lazily smacked her lips and blinked up at him.
Tightly swaddled in his cloak, she turned her drowsy gaze to the window. Having settled her stomach and rested, she saw the sun was now high in the sky.
“There’s so much snow.”
“It stays on the ground here until spring,” Leandro said. “You’ll get used to it.”
Bellatrix smiled brightly, a genuine, unguarded expression. Leandro felt some of the tension in his own shoulders ease at the sight.
“Is this your first time seeing snow?”
Bellatrix shook her head. Her reflection in the window held a deep, lingering expression that did not belong on a child’s face.
Leandro watched his daughter quietly. He had sensed it from their very first meeting—she was too mature. The orphanage records claimed she was seven, though her frail frame made her look closer to five. Despite that, she used complex words and sometimes wore a quiet, knowing look that was startling.
She might not be a commoner.
His sharp black eyes studied her, a new line of inquiry opening in his mind.