The capital was already awake when Arcanis stepped outside with Aria's small hand looped through his. Morning sunlight poured over cobblestones like warm milk, catching the faint shimmer in her hair as she hopped beside him — not simply walked, because walking required calm and she had none this morning.
"Brother, faster!" Aria tugged, almost tripping over her own excitement.
Arcanis let her pull. He could have outpaced her easily, but there was a softness beneath his usual composure — a softness only she ever saw. When she stumbled, he steadied her without a word. When she glanced back, his eyes were already on her, gentle and watchful, and she smiled in return.
The palace gates opened before them and the city welcomed them like an old friend.
---
— The Capital Through Soft Eyes
Market stalls lined the wide avenue — fruit vendors calling prices, children darting between legs, a young performer balancing spinning bowls on wooden poles. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon and hot bread.
"Brother! Look! Fruit pastries!" Aria pointed at a stall with evangelical certainty.
"You've already had two this morning," Arcanis said, a quiet reproach.
"I can have three."
He exhaled through his nose — a soft surrender.
"Fine. Three."
Aria gasped. "You didn't even negotiate! Are you ill?"
He gave her a sideways look. "I'm preparing for battle."
"With pastries?"
"With you."
Her laughter rang like a bright bell in the morning air.
They reached the pastry stall. The old baker bowed so deeply it looked like a practiced devotion rather than fear.
"Your Highness… Princess…" he said with honest warmth.
Arcanis returned the bow with the same unshowy grace he always used. He did it because it was right, not for show.
Aria had already leaned perilously over the counter. "These ones! The strawberry cream!"
"Aria," he murmured, placing a steadying hand on her back, "falling face-first into pastries will not help."
"It might," she whispered.
He paid. She ate with both cheeks full, eyes bright. He watched her in a quiet fondness that softened the edges of his usual reserve.
Then something shifted in the crowd. Her hand slipped free of his.
It wasn't a lived panic — less than that — but Arcanis felt his chest clamp.
"Aria?" he called, scanning the market with a speed that put trained hawks to shame. The sounds of the market dimmed around him.
Ten steps away she leaned over a fountain, unaware she had wandered.
Relief hit him with more force than he expected. He moved, scooped her up in one smooth motion, and held her a second longer than necessary.
"Brother?" she blinked, confused. "I just wanted to see the water—"
He exhaled against her hair. "Stay close," he whispered, low and gentle. "Even the smallest distance feels too far."
She heard something in the tone — a small, rare vulnerability — and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay," she whispered back.
---
— The Fountain
He set her down at the fountain's edge. Water glittered. Birds skimmed the surface. The city seemed to pause.
Aria dangled small feet over the stone. "Brother… do you like the world outside the palace?"
Arcanis considered before he answered. "I like moments like this."
"With me?"
He looked at her properly and nodded. "With you."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "When I grow up, I'll be strong like you."
"You already are," he murmured.
"No—sword-strong! Punching-strong! Scary-strong!"
He let a soft laugh escape — the kind that lifts one corner of the mouth.
"You don't need to punch people to be strong."
"But you do."
"That's… different."
She giggled; he flicked her forehead gently.
"Promise me something," she said suddenly.
He glanced down. "What promise?"
"When you go… when you leave with your captains… you'll come back safe."
His pause was not theatrical. It was a held breath, long enough for truth to settle in the space between them. He placed a hand on her head, slow and certain.
"I will," he said softly. "I'll return to you. Always."
---
— Returning Home
Halfway back she slept, ribboned hands clutching two new bows and a half-eaten pastry. He didn't wake her. He bent down, lifted her onto his back, and carried her through the streets. People stepped aside with warm smiles and low murmurs:
"The prince… such a caring brother."
"Bless the Vael family."
"Our kingdom is fortunate."
He did not answer. He merely held her more securely.
At the palace gates King Alistair and Queen Elara watched from a balcony. The queen's hand rested lightly on the king's arm.
"Look at them…" she breathed.
The king's features softened in a rare way. "He'll be a fine ruler."
"And gentle," the queen added.
"A dangerous combination," the king said with fond pride.
---
— Night & the Codex
Aria slept with a ribbon clutched to her chest. Arcanis brushed a stray lock from her forehead and pressed a soft kiss there.
"Sleep well, little star," he whispered.
Back in his chamber the evening wrapped the palace in hush. He opened the Ancient Imperial Codex. He observed it again and closed it
He inhaled, a quiet awe in that breath.
"So… it begins," he said to the empty room.
Moonlight traced the planes of his face, catching a determination that had settled there like armor forged for the long road. He was not leaving merely to grow stronger; he was leaving to lay the stones of a future no one yet imagined.