Written by: Loki<3
The banquet had ended. Music faded into the halls like a forgotten dream. Laughter gave way to whispers, and behind every smile now hid a repeated question.
They had seen the Saintess — Seraphina Everen Althas — stride through their grand hall with that unmistakable grace. But they had also seen the boy beside her. And none could ignore the resemblance.
Auren
He sat silently beside Seraphina, his small hand still tingling from the warmth of hers. His eyes darted around the ornate room, tracing the embroidered banners and crystalline chandeliers. Everything here shimmered, but nothing sparkled more than the people's eyes — all of them fixed on him.
"They keep staring. I know why."
He touched his golden hair lightly, then glanced up at Seraphina. She looked like him. Or maybe he looked like her. He wasn't sure. But he had never felt safer.
I remember the faces of my parents. Their hair, their eyes, their voices—yes, they looked like me, and yet… it was never quite the same. There was a distance, a difference I could never explain. Blood bound us, but it never felt like this.
When I look at Seraphina, it's different. Her gaze feels familiar, almost frighteningly so, as though I have known her for a lifetime I cannot recall. Every time her eyes meet mine, warmth spreads through me—steady, grounding, undeniable. Why does my heart settle in her presence, when I am certain we've never crossed paths before?
It doesn't make sense. Comfort should come from those who raised me, from the memories of a home I once knew. And yet, here I am, stealing glances at her when I think she isn't watching, drawn by something I cannot name. It feels as though there is an invisible thread connecting us, something deeper than blood, deeper than reason.
I don't understand it. I shouldn't feel this way. But whenever she is near, the world feels less heavy, and I feel less alone. And in that silence between us, I can't help but wonder—what is she to me? And now, these people they think I don't belong here. They're wrong!
Prince Caius
He watched the boy quietly from his seat beside the King and Queen. At first, he had smiled at Seraphina, basked in her kind words, even blushed when her magic had shimmered across his skin. But now…
"Who is he? Is he truly a bastard son of the Saintess?" The thought won't disappear from his head.
Thus, a thought flashed to him. "Is he a servant? A relative? But no servant looked like that. No servant held her hand. And..... he looks just like her."
Caius tilted his head slightly, observing Auren. That boy didn't act like a noble. Not like someone from court. But he walked beside the Saintess.
Others might be fooled by the way the boy carried himself—straight back, polite words, the faint air of confidence that mimicked nobility. But not me. My eyes are trained, sharpened by years of etiquette, protocol, and watching the true mannerisms of the court. Auren's act was passable to commoners perhaps, even convincing to those eager to believe he belonged among us. Yet to me… it was clumsy. His steps lacked the rhythm of noble upbringing, his gestures too stiff, his words lacking the effortless polish of someone born to it.
I told myself that was all there was to it—mere observation, nothing more. But the uneasiness that stirred within me said otherwise. Every time Seraphina's gaze softened when it lingered on him, something tightened in my chest. It was irrational. Petty. Beneath me. And yet, the thought pressed unbidden: Why him?
I clenched my fists behind my back, refusing to let the expression slip onto my face. I am Crown Prince Caius. I am above such things. But the bitter truth dug deep—this strange, unrefined boy, for reasons I could not yet name, stirred something in me I loathed to admit.
"Jealousy…" The word burned. And I despised myself for it.
Seren
The Head of the Holy Knights stood behind Seraphina like a silent wall. He had witnessed war, betrayal, even miracles. But this child...
"I don't trust him. Not because he's dangerous. No, he's too small, too quiet and innocent. But because of what he might mean. What he might become.... I don't like this child."
Seraphina never takes action without reason. If she brought him here, it's not by chance.
I have been with her since the day she first walked into the church, no more than a girl of eight. She was spoiled then, yes—pampered, willful, even a touch reckless. Yet even in her childishness, she bore herself with dignity. She never once shamed her father or the noble house she came from. Everything she did had weight, intention… even if few could see it.
That is why I believe in her. That is why I will always believe in her.
She could make the world doubt her a thousand times over, but I never will. To others, I am the Holy Knight Commander, sworn to guard the Saintess. But to myself, in the silence of my heart, I am far more—I am hers. Her shield, her sword, her shadow. Whatever she asks of me, I will obey. Whatever road she chooses, I will follow.
And yet… I cannot deny it. This devotion runs deeper than duty. It is not only faith that binds me to her, but something far more dangerous. A quiet, unspoken love. One I can never utter aloud, one I must carry to my grave.
She will never know. And perhaps that is for the best. For even if she never looks my way, I will always look at her. Always.
"I must remain vigilant. For her. Always."
King Elfred
He sipped his wine slowly, though it tasted like ash in his mouth. Seraphina's calm voice echoed in his ears. Her words were polished, elegant — carefully chosen to reveal nothing.
A child she won't explain. A resemblance she won't deny.
He pressed the goblet down on the armrest.
The people will talk.
He wasn't angry. He was curious. Curious and cautious. The Saintess of the Holy Empire never moved without a reason.
"If this child is a second candidate… then what becomes of Caius? Will the history repeat this time again?" It wasn't the worry of a king, but the worry of a father for his only son.
Queen Seraphine
Her eyes had never left Seraphina since she entered. But now they followed the boy.
That face… I would believe he is her child. And yet she speaks with the warmth of an older sister.
She glanced at her son. Caius. Her joy. Her pride. Her light.
"Will he be overshadowed? My son was born with everything… yet I fear he may be consumed by emotions after this. Truly, a mother's worry runs deep." Queen Seraphine sighed deeply looking at her beloved son.
She did not dislike the boy the Saintess bought — he looked kind. But her heart whispered warnings. A mother's fear. A queen's duty.
The Nobles
Scattered across the ballroom in clusters of jewels and silks, they whispered.
"Is he hers?"
"An illegitimate child?"
"Perhaps a miracle — or a scandal."
Each version spun wilder than the last, but all revolved around the same axis — Seraphina and the boy.
They look too alike. It can't be a coincidence.
They cloaked their gossip in fine words, but every noble heart beat with the thrill of possible disgrace of a higher status such as a Saintess.
And so, the night ended with questions no lips dared ask aloud, and a silence heavy with the weight of fate.
Two children.
One path?
Only time would choose.