Episode: Coping Without Mistress

The moment Diana left for the retreat, I felt the room shrink. Not literally—it was the manor, large and filled with shadows—but her absence was a void that made the air heavier. Even with the twins clinging to me, resting their heads on my shoulders, the manor felt colder, quieter, incomplete.

Malcolm, Diana’s younger brother, was the first to sense my mood. “Prince,” he said with his usual quiet authority, “you’re looking grim. Let’s do something productive.”

We spent hours together in the dim glow of my room, controllers clutched in our hands, diving into a JRPG that had Malcolm laughing quietly at my nerdy obsessions, pointing out flaws in my strategy, and challenging me in ways only someone who knew me could. Time passed without notice—until the faint sound of the clock reminded me it was late.

The Twins’ Sadness

Persephone and Hades were quieter than usual, their stoic faces betraying a hint of melancholy. “Father,” Persephone murmured, resting her head against my shoulder, “I miss Mother.”

“I miss her too,” I admitted, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “But she’ll be back soon, my little shadows. She always comes back.”

Hades nestled against me as well, his small hands clutching the edge of my sleeve. I felt the weight of their longing, mirrored in my own chest. Diana wasn’t just absent; she was the axis of our little universe, and without her, even the warmth of the manor felt hollow.

Family Support

Thankfully, my siblings and parents noticed immediately. Lina and Mira, my fraternal twin sisters, spent the mornings helping me organize work, cooking small meals, and listening patiently while I ranted quietly about the retreat. Terry, the oldest, acted almost like a commanding presence, ensuring I didn’t dwell too much on the loneliness.

Analise and Cordeilia were equally maternal. Analise sent me carefully curated gothic playlists, along with text messages like:

“Try this, Beckett. It’s exactly how Mistress would want you to cope. Focus on the darkness and let it soothe you.”

Cordeilia fussed over the twins, letting them curl against her lap while still keeping them nearby for me to hold and comfort. They didn’t replace Diana—they never could—but their presence was a scaffolding of warmth, enough to keep the twins and me from unraveling completely.

Music and JRPG Therapy

Malcolm and I immersed ourselves in JRPGs for hours, the screen illuminating our quiet room. Time lost meaning; we laughed quietly, cursed at our mistakes, and debated strategies while simultaneously texting Diana updates about our progress.

“Prince, are you managing without me?” one text read.
“I am surviving, Mistress,” I typed back.

Malcolm chimed in occasionally with memes and in-jokes, keeping the atmosphere slightly lighter. When we weren’t gaming, we were listening to the gothic music Analise and Malcolm sent, sharing subtle nods to Diana through each song. It was a tether, a lifeline, and a reminder that even distance could not sever our connection.

The Smoking Cravings

Desperation hit me mid-day. I found myself lighting herbal cigarettes and candy cigarettes in bursts, chewing on the sweet alternatives Diana would normally scold me for. I thought of her constantly, imagining her rolling her eyes at my indulgence.

Meanwhile, I knew she must be struggling too. I imagined her alone in that pastel hotel room, craving the bitter comfort of her cigarettes. I imagined her pulling something absurd like an asparagus to smoke in secret—and I knew it would shame her, as only Diana could feel shame for something so small.

It pained me that she was forcing herself into minor humiliations just to cope, and I sent her texts urging her to stay strong, assuring her that I, along with our family, were holding the fort.

“Prince, this is humiliating,” I imagined her typing, though she wouldn’t actually admit it. “I will not stoop to nicotine again.”

The Small Comforts

Even in absence, Diana’s influence was everywhere. I held the twins as often as I could, let them rest against me while Terry, Lina, Mira, Analise, and Cordeilia ensured that nothing about our lives slipped into chaos. Malcolm and I traded music recommendations, watched gothic animations, and gamed in long, quiet stretches.

Every text from Diana became a private lifeline: her calm, morbid sarcasm, her offhand remarks about how she hated pop music, and the small jokes only we shared. Every song she sent, every word she typed, kept me tethered to sanity.

By the end of the weekend, we had survived—not unscathed, but intact. The retreat had been a test of our bonds, a trial of solitude, and a reminder of just how central Diana was to our little universe.

When she returned, I knew that the hugs, the kisses, the PDA moments, and the quiet intensity of holding her close would be enough to erase every trace of the weekend’s dreariness.  So in the end nothing could ever could keep us seperated no matter what comes our way.