his soul a mortal light

longing for the stars

༻𖥸༺

UNFOCUSED JEWELED BLUE EYES opened to stare up at the silk canopy that decorated his massive bed, the golden pillars of support decorated in small, sparkling aquamarine stones.

The room was darkened, courtesy of the satin curtains that framed the large windows of his room. And although he need not the light of the sun for the crystal chandeliers should simply be filled with mana and light shall illuminate his chambers.

But he didn't want light to invade his senses, at least not yet. Burying himself further within the comfort of his bed, silvery blonde strands tangled in a mess of a bird's nest, Athan simply waited until his maids of the day built up the courage to enter and prepare him for the day.

(Claude has been rotating his maids since he was old enough to move into the Sapphire Palace一to keep him safe, he said.)

The content rumble of a purr drew his eyes to the right side of his bed, where Biyakko guarded his nights. "It's been ten years, huh..." Ten years since he received his familiar and fourteen years since he reincarnated into this world.

It's been so long... Melancholy overtook him as thoughts of his life as Ye-Jun ran rampant under his mind's eye's sight. 'Today Athanasius turns fourteen.'

Because it was hard to think of Ye-Jun and Athan as the same person and so he referred to them as such. Ye-Jun was his past, Athan was his present and he knew not who he will be in the future.

A knock on his door drew his attention to the silver of light that filtered through the crack in the door. "Your Royal Highness?" The maids were doing a pretty good job at keeping their voices even and unshakeable, though he had always been good at discerning other people's emotions.

Heaving a sigh and throwing off his blankets, Athan spread out his mana and activated the lights on the ceiling.

"Come in."

And so they did and in his peripheral vision appeared three maids, all of varying ages, but all still older than him. He momentarily thought that in Ye-Jun's world they could have been the noona type, had they not been so visible nervous in his presence.

(Jesus, calm down. I'm not gonna eat you. Biyakko might tho.)

The one that seemed the most put together out of all of them walked forward and began pulling apart the curtains, allowing sunlight to seep through. "Until the time for preparations for tonight's celebrations in His Royal Highness' honour, we were instructed to aid the Crown Prince in any and all tasks given."

All three chose that moment to bow (Wow, synchronisation!) in his direction, stiff as boards and fearful for their lives.

Did they honestly think he was going to set Biyakko on them if they made a slip of the tongue or overstep their boundaries with his person? He wasn't that cruel.

Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, the royal teenager let out a sigh of frustration as irritation began to rise up on his skin like an ich that he couldn't quite scratch.

'Why can't they all be like Madam Iris...' His abysmal thoughts were curtly put aside as he began adjusting his sleeping wear, feet dragging him out of bed. Both signals for them to proceed onwards with their tasks.

He was pleasantly surprised when they wasted not even a second and began fixing up the bed and wheeling in a tea cart on which his morning coffee and breakfast was most diligently prepared by the palace's chefs.

As the first one to speak approached him, he absent-mindedly noted that they all avoided going anywhere near his familiar with a diligence not seen even in his most trusted knight.

(In another part of the Sapphire Palace, Kassian Claes sneezed.)

"What will His Royal Highness wear today?"

Ah, he hated this part. He was by no means a dishevelled person, often liking to have everything about himself and his surroundings in an orderly fashion, but that did not mean he was a fashion guru. Ju-Hee had always been better at choosing clothes.

Then he thought of what he wanted to do today; reading was at the top of his list, then maybe a bit of magic practice with father or coaxing Felix (or Kassian, if Sir Robane was too busy) in a sword match, though all in all, he had no further plans of going out or of premature meetings with the nobles before tonight's events.

A lazy day through and through.

"Something loose and simple."

Ten minutes later he was fully dressed in an untied, loose white tunic, beige pants and black boots and sitting down in his lounge area enjoying his breakfast.

Why untied? Because Athan refused to allow any piece of restrictive clothes make it on his body on this day.

And by the sight of the blushing maids 一who threw very appreciative looks towards his very much exposed collarbone一 he knew he made a good choice. (He got them to relax around him, though he now slightly feared for his bodily safety.)

────────────────────────

THE MOON WAS ALREADY RISING by the time Claude had the chance to see his son on this momentous day of his life.

To say that he was proud of his son was an understatement if he'd ever had heard one. Athan had always been mature一the magicians said that he was an old soul with a golden heart and the patience of a saint一and from the moment he learned to walk he had been glued to him, following him like a little chick after its mother.

Seeing him decent the stairs to the ballroom, dressed in formal Obelian dress, similar to his own, the only difference being the colour of his cape一a deep-sea blue with a golden star sown on the material, and his hair mysteriously hiding his right eye, Claude felt like he maybe succeeded at being a parent.

(Would Lucille congratulate him?)

As he sat on his throne, Claude observed with careful eyes how his son carried himself in front of all the people watching, face set forward and eyes never leaving his own.

Such an amazing child he had been graced with.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs that lead to his father's throne, Athanasius bent the knee, placing a hand over his heart and bowed his head before his emperor and recited,

"I, Athanasius De Alger Obelia, son of Lucille Di Saint, Lady Empress of House Saint, and Claude De Alger Obelia, Emperor of the Obelia Empire, bow before my sovereign in awaiting for our Sun's blessings on my fourteenth season change."

Aish, he really was proud.

Raising from his throne (Claude already did not give a fuck if he was breaking tradition), he descended until he stood two steps away from his son一whom, might he add, still did not raise from his prostrated position一and extended a hand.

"Son."

Jeweled eyes ascended from the ground to meet his own blue gems and a hand (when had his hands become so big, so different from when he was a baby) clasped his own and his child's voice responded to him,

"Father."

(He remembered with such clarity the day his son spoke his first word and how he was all smiles and thinking about it now, brought a sense of accomplishment to Claude's heart.)

(Oh, how he adored this child, the by-product of his love with his empress.)

Without any warning, Claude tugged at the hand holding onto his own and pulled his son into a hug, tucking his head underneath his chin, one arm holding his head in place while the other supported his back一just like how he used to do when he was younger.

Slowly, as if sprung from their stunned state, his son's hands encircled themselves around his waist, burying himself deeper into his father's (rare) embrace.

And, in a voice loud enough to be heard over the silence that reigned in the ballroom, yet so low that only Athan caught the meaning behind his tone,

"You have my blessings."

...

...

...

一I'm proud of you.

As tears ran down the prince's face, the display only solidified in the minds of those present the rumours about the close bond between the two royals, bond that only they had privy to.

That of a father and son.

✂------------------------------------------

fluffy and angsty double update because today, november 3rd, is my birthday

also, my dumbass just realised that for the past chapters, since his introduction actually, i've been writing kassian's name wrong