Every intelligent being, whether male or female, brutal or cold, or gentle.
In the earliest stages of life, a mother was always the person closest to them.
Even the most brutal murderer, if his mother had treated him normally during his childhood, as a mother should treat her son—
Unless some serious conflict had occurred, a child would always become a child again when his mother spoke to him with concern.
For this reason, children without mothers naturally felt differently about them.
In outsiders' eyes, Yuffie had lost her mother before she could remember.
But that did nothing to diminish her longing for and fantasies about her mother.
And so Yuffie lost her composure, staring fixedly at Freya. She knew perfectly well that Freya was nothing more than a stepmother, a shameless White Lotus who whispered in the Emperor's ear and occasionally fulfilled her duties as a Goddess.
Fortunately, their faces were different.
Freya's face was as beautiful as a goddess's, but it wasn't her mother's face.
Yuffie didn't know why she had just mistaken Freya for her mother.
"Your Highness Yuffie, is something on your mind?" Freya's voice was gentle, like a soft drizzle soothing the heart. Her gait was both bold and dignified, carrying the air of an exemplary noble young lady as well as the dashing bearing of a fearless battlefield general. Before Yuffie knew it, she had come to stand in front of her. "Please forgive my forwardness." As she spoke, Freya's motherly hand rested on Yuffie's forehead, then gently brushed aside a few disheveled strands of hair.
"Little Yuffie, you look so tired lately. Your hair's a little messy, too. That won't do."
"Are you here to see His Majesty?"
Tired. Yes, tired. Perhaps it was because she was tired.
Yuffie held herself to impossibly