When Benedict was fifteen years old, he watched his father die.

He had been rounding up the children to get ready for dinner, all on the way to the dining room when he heard his elder brother shouting for help. He ushered the kids into the dining room before heading to the front door, where his mother already stood. She gasped and began running to the garden, and Benedict's heart began to race. He stopped just outside the front door when he saw his father in Anthony's arms, his mother collapsing down next to them. Something was not right, he knew that for sure. He was about to run over when he heard his younger sister call his name.

"Benny, what is it? Is mother all right?" Daphne's voice got closer, but Benedict couldn't tear his eyes off the scene before him. This feeling of fear was one he had never experienced before, and he felt as though his heart might beat out of his chest. The other children soon followed their sister, all coming outside to see what was going on. Benedict attempted to keep them by his side, not wanting them to watch what he couldn't take his eyes off of. He couldn't help but notice his hands shaking as he attempted to hold back the children at his side.

He heard his mother shout Anthony's name as she sobbed, and soon his brother began rushing toward him. Anthony helped Benedict to get all of the kids back inside. Benedict picked up his youngest brother, who began to giggle, unknowing of what was happening at the ripe age of two. He shushed him, setting him down in the drawing room with the rest of the children and running after his brother, who was now walking down the hallway.

"Anthony! Anthony, what's happened? Is father okay?" He called desperately, trying to catch up. At fifteen, he was already almost taller than his older brother, but it seemed his legs were no match for him in this case.

"Brother, please! What's going on?!" Benedict begged, his brother halting in his steps but not turning to face him. Benedict walked to meet his brother, looking him in the eyes, and his heart plummeted.

Anthony was crying.

Benedict felt a sense of dread creep into his stomach as he looked at his brother with terrified eyes.

"No.. he's not.." His voice failed him as his own tears began to well up. Anthony pulled him into a hug, as both boy's bodies racked with sobs. The two mumbled things to one another, but neither could get any words out.

Still, Benedict knew what Anthony was trying to tell him. Their father was dead. He felt as though his body was going to crumble, his legs almost giving out beneath him.

"My lord, might we begin the arrangements?". A voice pulled the two brothers away. Anthony wiped away his own tears, but Benedict couldn't seem to stop his. Both stood there, staring at the man who had spoken with bewildered eyes. The cries of their mother were loud in the background, the man stepping closer.

"The minister will need to be called, and the casket of course, one will need to be built."

Anthony nodded at the man's words, the bewildered look not leaving his eyes. Benedict's eyes darted between the two, the boy unable to comprehend what was happening.

"Forgive me, my lord. I have questions about the body." The two boys turned as a second man approached. Benedict could hardly see through his watering eyes, and it felt as if the world was blurring around him.

"Should I move it from his chambers?" Benedict's eyes fell on his mother in the background, sobbing on the stairs as two ladies attempted to help her up.

"There is also the business of the letters."

"The letters?" Benedict brought his eyes back to his brother as he spoke. He felt like he couldn't breathe, and he wondered how Anthony could even partake in this conversation right now.

"To give notice of the death. Not just to the other family, but to the village too." Benedict felt as if his heart was being torn out of his chest at the confirmation of his father's death, even though he already knew it to be true. It was different hearing it.

"We should send for the doctor. She's still hysterical." A lady approached the group, and Benedict's eyes darted to her, then back to his mother, then back to the first man who spoke again.

"I also must ask my lord. Might you already have the keys to your fathers office? We've been searching. I'll have your mother's things arranged but I'll need to know which room you would like her moved to."

"Why would mother be moved?" Anthony's eyes were filled with tears, but he seemed to express dread as he asked the question he already knew the answer to.

Benedict couldn't bare to listen to them speak of this, tearing away and running up the stairs to his room. He heard the man speaking once again to Anthony as he ran, tears clouding his vision.

"Because those rooms belong to you, my lord. You are the viscount now."

Benedict reached his room, rushing in and leaning back against the door, crumpling to the floor as his body wracked with sobs.

Benedict stayed in that spot for what felt like hours, crying until there was no longer anything left in him to cry out. He heard a knock on his door, standing and opening it to see one of the ladies of the house looking at him with apologetic eyes.

"Mr. Bridgerton, I'm sorry but.. the children. They can't see this." She had all five of the children with her, but stood in front of them blocking their view of him. He nodded, telling her to give him a moment and closing the door again.

Benedict retreated into his room, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief and staring at himself in the mirror. He had never looked this awful. Never mind that, he had never felt this awful. He couldn't believe this was happening. Nonetheless, he had a responsibility to this family and he wouldn't let the younger ones see him this way. After composing himself, he opened the door once again and gave the kids a big smile, telling him to follow him to the drawing room so that they might play some games.

He closed the door and set up games and pastries for the children, trying his best to keep smiling and acting happy for their sake. Once they were all settled and distracted, he collapsed back into one of the settees, bringing his elbows to his knees and his face to his hands. He tried to take deep breaths, wondering to himself how everything could've gone wrong so quickly.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and looked up to see Daphne sitting down beside him. Only eleven years old, she was the spitting image of their mother. She was kind-hearted and beautiful, but unfortunately for her at this moment, she also had her mother's wisdom. She knew something was wrong.

"Benedict, is father dead?" She asked softly, afraid to hear the answer. Benedict nodded as he felt his eyes begin to well up with tears once again. He put his arms around her, bringing her into his arms. He felt her body begin to shake a bit as she cried softly into his chest.

"Yes, I'm afraid he is. But it's all going to be okay, Daph. I promise you that. Anthony and I will take care of you all, and we still have Mother, and we all love you very much. And soon," he pulled her away from him to look in her eyes, keeping his hands on her shoulder, "You are going to have a wonderful little sister or brother. Are you excited for that, hm?"

Daphne calmed a bit as Benedict attempted to distract her, asking if she thought the baby would be a boy or a girl, what she thought the baby's name would be, anything to keep her mind off of the tragedy they were experiencing. It took everything in him to not break down in front of her.

A couple of hours later, Benedict brought the kids to the dining room for dinner. His heart sank when he saw his mother's chair vacant, mirroring his father's across from it. He called for dinner to be brought out and sat with the kids, chatting with them to keep up the ruse that everything was okay.

Colin knew that it wasn't. He had watched Daphne talk to Benedict earlier, and despite not being able to hear them, he knew something was terribly wrong. He poked at his food, looking up as the door opened.

Benedict followed the sound as well, watching as Anthony entered the room. The eldest brother mustered up a weak smile for the children, before walking toward the end of the table. He stopped for a moment, before painstakingly taking his father's empty seat at the head of the table. Benedict could tell that something was different, something had changed in Anthony's demeanor within the six hours since his father's death. He seemed colder, somehow, a feeling which radiated off of him more than any sadness.

As the family ate, Benedict answered all of the kid's incessant questions about anything and everything, stopping Eloise multiple times from flicking peas at her brothers. Anthony sat in silence, his stone cold gaze not moving from the table in front of him.

After dinner, Benedict helped bring the children to their rooms, tucking them in as their father would. The young ones went down easily with a quick bedtime story, two for Eloise's restless mind. He reached Daphne's room and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his.

"I love you, Daph. We are a family, and we are going to get through this, do you know that?" He watched as she nodded meekly, tears falling down her cheeks. He leaned forward and kissed her on head as he knew his father would, stroking her hair out of her face.

"I love you too, Benny." He smiled softly at her and wished her good night, before shutting the door and heading to Colin's room.

The twelve-year-old sat at his small desk, picking at the paint that was now peeling on the corner. His head rested on one hand, not looking up when Benedict entered.

"Col, are you ready for bed?" Benedict sat at the foot of the bed, watching Colin carefully when he didn't respond. Benedict patted the spot next to him after a moment, and Colin slowly got up and sat next to him, keeping his eyes to the floor.

"Colin, Im afraid you already seem to have guessed this, but father is gone." Benedict didn't know how else to say something so horrific, and he put his arm around his younger brother.

"I know." Colin sniffled, wiping his nose quickly. He looked up at Benedict with desperate eyes, and it broke the older brother's heart.

"How can he be gone? What's going to happen?" His lip quiver as a tear rolled down his cheek. Benedict pulled him closer to him, holding him tight to try and comfort the boy.

"Nothing is going to happen, buddy. We are all still going to be here, and we are going to learn how to get through this together. You've still got your big brothers to watch over you, do you understand? And father will no doubt be watching over us to make sure we don't make a royal arse of ourselves."

Colin breathed out a sad laugh through his tears at the last bit, holding onto his brother tightly. They sat there for quite a while, just holding onto each other. Benedict rested his chin atop the boy's head and rubbed his back in soothing circles, until he was certain his brother had fallen asleep. He laid him back gently and tucked him in, kissing his forehead and leaving the room.

He saw the light on in his fathers office and for a moment, his heart twinged in pain. For he knew it was not his father in there.

Once back in his own room, he let out an exhausted breath and sat down by his windowsill. He looked up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle in the darkness.

"I do hope you are watching down on us, father. I don't know if I can do this." A tear rolled down his cheek as he sat staring at the sky, exhausted by the charade he had to keep up for the children. He knew this was only the beginning, for his mother was hysterical and Anthony was newly burdened with his father's accounts and all of the viscount's duties. He could only hope that they would get through this, that he had not lied to his siblings.