The single word hung in the air, silencing the corridor as effectively as a raised hand. Lucian's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief, tears unexpectedly welling in their depths. It was his first word.
General Maria's eyes widened to the size of saucers at the astonishing event unfolding before her, and a big, bright smile, radiating pure joy, bloomed on her face. "He spoke? ….. I… I mean Lord Arieon spoke!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excited disbelief.
Lucian, visibly moved, tried to compose himself, wiping the unexpected tears from his eyes with his free hand, while Aerion, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere, went silent again.
Areion starts to worry inside that he did something wrong. [Wait, wait, why is he crying? …..did I go too far?]
A pang of unexpected guilt, a feeling utterly foreign, tugged at Aerion's tiny heart.
Maria giggled, her excitement bubbling over as she watched Aerion with awe, as if she had just witnessed a miracle. "Congratulations, Master Lucian! Lord's first word is your name… you must be so happy… I… I need to inform this to Lord Valdemar as soon as his majesty comes back!" she declared, her voice ringing with enthusiasm.
Lucian tightened his hold on Aerion, pulling him closer to his chest, and spoke in a gentle with choked voice. "No, it's okay. I'll inform Father and Mother myself. It's my responsibility for now."
"As your command, master," Maria replied, straightening her spine, a blissful smile still gracing her lips, the excitement swirling within her.
[Yeah, yeah, very happy, but can you stop strangling me? …. Stupidass…. I'm going to die.] Aerion thought, a touch of his old sarcasm resurfacing amidst the wonder of his first word.
Lucian turned and started walking towards the throne room, his steps a little quicker now. Maria, her heart filled with warmth, spoke with hopeful anticipation before he had taken more than a single step in the other direction. "Master, can I give Lord something if you don't mind?"
Lucian paused, turning back with a soft nod. "Sure, General."
With a quiet reverence, Maria reached up and unclasped the pendant she always wore, the silver threads catching the soft light of the corridor. Lucian watched her, a silent question in his eyes.
"Master Lucian," Maria began, her voice soft as she held the intricate piece of jewelry in her palm, "if I may?" She gestured towards the still-gazing Aerion.
Lucian nodded slowly
Maria approached the infant, her movements gentle. "This pendant… it is more than just adornment, master. For the Royal Guards, it carries a deep significance."
"Oh?" Lucian prompted, his attention now fully on the silver piece.
"The silver threads, see how they are twisted?" Maria explained, her fingers tracing the intricate knotwork. "They represent the interwoven destinies of all who serve in the royal Guards. Our lives, our loyalties, bound together."
Lucian leaned closer, examining the craftsmanship. "And the crystal?"
"The blue crystal," Maria continued, her voice hushed, "it is said to hold a fragment of a fallen star. Imbued with ancient spell, a ward against harm, a beacon of guidance."
Lucian's eyes widened slightly, a hint of wonder in their depths. "A fragment of a star?"
Maria nodded solemnly. "So the legends say, master. And within it…" Her finger pointed to the stark black cross embedded within the luminous blue. "…this cross serves as a constant reminder. Of sacrifice. Of resilience in the face of any darkness. And of our unwavering loyalty to the Crown."
As she carefully fastened the pendant around Aerion's neck, the cool silver resting against his soft skin, a soft, inner light bloomed within the crystal, a subtle pulse of blue illuminating the tiny cross.
Lucian watched the gentle glow, a thoughtful expression on his face. "A magnificent gift, General."
Maria met his gaze, her eyes filled with a quiet sincerity. "My lord Aerion… he will face challenges, as we all do. May this pendant offer him some small measure of protection, some guidance on his path." She offered a small, respectful bow. "A manifestation of my heartfelt wish for his safety and well-being, master."
Within weeks summer light across the polished marble floors, illuminating the long, intricate tapestry that stretched down the center of the hall. Ministers and nobles sit and stood in their designated places, deep in discussion about the matters of state.
That was until the heavy oak doors slammed open.
A small figure crawled in with hurried desperation, the soft shuffle of tiny hands and knees on marble barely registering before the child broke into a full sprint on all fours.
"Lord Arieon—!" one of the flustered maids called out as they skidded to a halt at the entrance.
The ministers fell silent, all eyes shifting from their papers and ledgers to the tiny invader. The sight of a child on all fours, dashing across the throne room as if escaping some unseen predator, was both bizarre and oddly endearing.
The maids, catching their breath, lowered themselves into deep bows, clearly mortified by the interruption. "Your Majesty, our deepest apologies. We..we couldn't hold Lord Arieon back."
A rare glimmer of amusement flickered in Lucian's eyes. The imperial prince, known for his composed and unshakable demeanor, fought to maintain his stoic expression. But the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. He was enjoying this.
Seated atop the throne of obsidian and gold, Valdemar exhaled a quiet sigh. With a small wave of his hand, he dismissed the maids.
The maids, though still visibly distressed, bowed lower before retreating from the hall.
Valdemar stood, Without a word, he bent down and scooped Arieon into his arms, lifting him with practiced ease before settling back into the throne.
Arieon, small and warm in contrast to the cold, rigid seat, found himself nestled comfortably in his father's lap.
The ministers hesitated, some exchanging uncertain glances. They awaited further instruction, unsure if the Emperor intended to resume or if the meeting was effectively over.
Valdemar's voice, steady and unshaken, cut through the brief silence. "Continue."
The ministers snapped back to attention.
"Regarding immigration policies, Your Majesty," one began, clearing his throat. "The influx of foreign merchants into the western provinces has increased trade but is also straining local resources. There have been requests for adjusted tax rates to compensate—"
Arieon barely registered the words. He was too focused on the warmth surrounding him. The steady rise and fall of his father's chest. The way Valdemar's arms, though relaxed, held him securely. It was… different. Unfamiliar.
He barely had memories of such things from his past life.
[Is this… what a father's warmth feels like?]
The thought startled him. It was something so simple, yet so alien. He had always read about it, seen it from a distance in other families, but never… felt it.
Here, he wasn't just a prince or an heir. He was a child. A child held without question, without condition.
Something warm spread through his chest—a feeling too profound to name.
He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to sink into the unfamiliar comfort, while the weighty discussions of state matters carried on around him.
For the first time in two lifetime.