[Imperial Palace — Courtyard — Midnight]
Seyra pressed her face into Vaerun’s chest, her tiny shoulders trembling as she tried to quiet her sobs.
Vaerun drew her closer, one broad hand resting against the back of her head. He said nothing, simply wrapping his arms around her and holding her near, allowing her to cry without asking her to explain herself.
The honey cakes lay untouched upon the low table.
Across from them, Malik remained seated on the imperial diwan. His fingers twitched against his knee when another small sob escaped Seyra, but he made no move to approach her. He had already hurt her once by speaking without considering the weight of his words. He would not make the same mistake by forcing his presence upon her now.
So he waited.
After a while, Seyra’s sobs subsided into occasional hiccups. Vaerun drew back just enough to examine her face, then took a linen cloth and gently wiped her swollen eyes. He dabbed beneath her nose, cleaning away the tears and sniffles with the same grave attention he might have given a wound on the battlefield.
Seyra stared at him, utterly dumbfounded.
"Papa..."
"Hm?"
"It’s... embarrassing."
Vaerun blinked at her.
"Your nose is leaking."
. . .
. . .
For one horrified moment, she looked as though her father had betrayed a sacred family secret.
"Papa!"
"What?" Vaerun asked calmly. "Would you prefer I let it continue?"
She went quiet. There were many things Seyra wished to say to the Silent Tempest, but none seemed appropriate while he was holding a cloth beneath her nose like a physician tending to a particularly troublesome patient.
She sniffed once, and Vaerun raised an eyebrow. Seyra immediately pressed her lips together.
Then—
POP!
A clear glass of water appeared on the low table before her, summoned by a flicker of magic.
Seyra’s violet eyes widened as she stared at the glass, then slowly turned toward the person who had brought it into existence.
Malik was no longer sitting across them.
He had moved closer, stopping at a respectful distance from Vaerun and his daughter. The golden ornaments at his collar caught the light of the bronze lamps, and his amber eyes rested on Seyra without their usual imperial sharpness.
"Would you like some water, Lady Seyra?"
She went silent.
It was only a glass of water, nothing more, and yet the choice seemed to carry a weight neither of them could ignore. If she accepted it, she would be accepting a small kindness from the man who had hurt her. If she refused, he would have to accept that, too.
The emperor did not repeat his question; he simply waited.
Seyra glanced at Vaerun. Her father offered no answer for her, nor did he encourage her to accept. His hand remained warm against her back, leaving the decision entirely in her little hands.
For a while, Seyra said nothing, then, slowly, she reached for the glass.
Malik remained still as her fingers curled around it. She lifted it with both hands and took a small sip, the cool water soothing her sore throat.
When she lowered the glass, her eyes remained fixed upon its surface.
"Th-thank you," she murmured.
The words were quiet and hesitant, but they were hers to give, and a faint smile touched Malik’s face.
He did not mistake her gratitude for forgiveness. He merely inclined his head, accepting the little kindness she had chosen to offer in return.
At that moment, a gentle breeze swept through the courtyard, stirring the date-palm leaves overhead and setting the flames of the bronze lamps dancing. The edge of Malik’s crimson robe shifted in the wind, while Seyra settled back against Vaerun, still holding the glass between her small hands.
Nothing had been repaired completely.
The hurt remained, and the distance between the emperor and the little girl had not vanished beneath the moonlight, but for the first time that night, Seyra had accepted something from Malik without feeling that she had surrendered her right to be hurt.
And Malik, standing beside the imperial diwan, understood that this small, hesitant thank you was not forgiveness.
It was simply a beginning.
Unfortunately for the emperor, the beginning of something else had just awakened inside his adopted daughter.
Seyra lowered the glass into her lap, her violet eyes still slightly damp. Her cheeks were pink from crying, and a few strands of hair clung to her face. To anyone watching, she appeared to be a little girl recovering from an upsetting evening.
Inside her head, however, an entirely different ceremony had begun; her eyes widened.
THE VILLAIN JUST OFFERED ME WATER.
She glanced at Malik; he had knelt before her, he had apologized, and he had offered her water without demanding anything in return.
Seyra’s heart gave a delighted little leap.
’THE VILLAIN IS BEING GENEROUS WITH ME! HE KNEELED BEFORE ME!’
Her imagination immediately abandoned the courtyard and ascended to the heavens as she clutched the glass with both hands.
’THAT MEANS...HE CAN BE MY OTHER PARENT!’
Her lips began to twitch.
’I CAN MAKE HIM MY OTHER PARENT! PAPA WILL HAVE A HUSBAND! I WILL HAVE TWO TERRIFYING FATHERS! OUR FAMILY WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE!’
In her mind, golden temple bells rang. Sacred incense rose toward the heavens. Seven elemental guardians gathered beneath the stars to witness the greatest matchmaking achievement in Eshkaran history.
And at the center of it all stood Seyra Veyrath, the four-year-old architect of romance.
’HAHAHAHA! THE ORIGINAL NOVEL’S VILLAIN IS RIGHT HERE, AND I AM GOING TO SECURE THE HAPPY ENDING MYSELF!’
Her shoulders began to shake with barely contained, deeply suspicious giggles. Vaerun glanced down at her.
Seyra’s face had become strangely radiant. Her violet eyes glittered, and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile that suggested she had either discovered a wonderful secret or planned something that would eventually give him a headache.
Knowing his daughter, both possibilities were equally likely.
’She is having some ridiculous thoughts again.’
Vaerun sighed inwardly and reached for his cup.
Across from them, Malik noticed Seyra’s peculiar expression. A faint smile touched his lips, though he made no attempt to question the little girl about whatever mischief was unfolding behind those violet eyes.
"Would you like some honey cakes, Lady Seyra?"
Seyra turned toward him so quickly that Vaerun suspected she might have injured her neck and gave him a dignified nod.
"I would like some, Malik. Thank you."
’BEHOLD! HE IS FEEDING ME!’
Her internal narration resumed at once.
’FIRST WATER, NOW CAKES. WHAT’S NEXT? WILL HE PERSONALLY CARRY ME INTO THE PALACE AND TUCK ME INTO BED? WILL HE GIVE PAPA A BEAUTIFUL JEWEL AND ASK HIM TO SHARE A THRONE? SHOULD I START CALLING HIM—’
She stopped herself.
’NO. TOO SOON, SEYRA. WE MUST RESPECT THE PACING.’
For a girl who had spent her previous life devouring BL novels, she considered herself an expert in romantic development; one could not rush the plot and one had to establish trust, create opportunities for emotional intimacy, and allow the characters to suffer just enough to make the eventual confession satisfying.
She took a honey cake from the plate.
’Although, if the author would kindly stop making these two emotionally constipated men suffer for another hundred Chapters, I would be very grateful.’
Seyra bit into the cake.
Honey and sesame filled her mouth, and her eyes practically sparkled. She took another bite, entirely forgetting to maintain her dignified appearance; a few crumbs settled on the corner of her mouth.
Vaerun noticed first; his expression softened as he lifted his hand to brush them away. At the same moment, Malik reached forward.
Their hands met, and for a brief instant, Vaerun’s fingers brushed against Malik’s as both men reached for the same tiny face.
Neither moved. Vaerun raised his silver eyes, and Malik’s amber gaze met his.
The courtyard seemed to grow quieter around them; the moon hung above the sandstone arches, casting pale light across their faces. A gentle breeze swept through the date palms, stirring the edge of Malik’s crimson robe and the silver-threaded collar of Vaerun’s dark attire.
Their hands remained close, barely touching.
Vaerun’s expression was unreadable, though his fingers did not immediately withdraw. Malik, usually so composed beneath the imperial crown, found himself holding Vaerun’s gaze a heartbeat longer than necessary and neither spoke.
For one fleeting moment, the emperor and the Silent Tempest seemed to have forgotten that a child sat between them. Unfortunately, the child in question had not forgotten anything.
Seyra froze with half a honey cake in her mouth; her eyes moved from their touching hands to Vaerun’s face.
Then to Malik’s and then back to their hands. Her soul departed her body.
’AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!’
The scream was entirely internal.
’THEIR HANDS TOUCHED!’
She gripped her honey cake so tightly that it nearly crumbled.
’THEIR HANDS ACTUALLY TOUCHED! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! THE STARS HAVE ALIGNED! THE SACRED DRAGONS HAVE BLESSED MY SHIP!’
She wanted to kick her little feet, wanted to clap, and wanted to stand upon the diwan and announce to the entire imperial palace that history had been made.
Instead, she sat perfectly still, her cheeks turning a magnificent shade of pink.
’LOOK AT THEM! LOOK AT THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE! LOOK AT THE SILVER EYES AND THE AMBER EYES! THE SILENT TEMPEST AND THE TYRANT EMPEROR!’
Her imagination supplied a grand mural of the two men standing beneath a golden sun, their robes billowing dramatically while divine dragons coiled around the palace towers.
’THE TITLE ALONE DESERVES AN AWARD!’
Vaerun’s fingers finally withdrew. Malik lowered his hand a moment later.
The brief contact ended, and the familiar distance returned between them. Malik cleared his throat softly, while Vaerun turned his attention back to his daughter.
Seyra, however, had already documented every second of it in the most important archive in the world: her deranged little brain.
Vaerun brushed the remaining crumbs from her cheek.
"Eat carefully, little lizard."
Seyra nodded solemnly.
"Yes, Papa."
Malik glanced at her. "Is the cake to your liking?"
She turned toward him with an expression of angelic innocence.
"It’s delicious."
’AND SO ARE YOU TWO TOGETHER.’
Her smile widened.
Vaerun narrowed his eyes. He knew that smile.
"Seyra."
"Yes, Papa?"
"What are you thinking about?"
She swallowed her bite of cake and looked up at him with the purest expression a four-year-old could possibly manufacture.
"Nothing."
Vaerun stared at her and Malik’s mouth curved faintly. Seyra took another bite.
And ofcourse, she isn’t thinking much, Just planning their wedding, choosing the flowers, selecting the sacred temple, and deciding which of the seven guardians should bless the ceremony.
She leaned against Vaerun’s side, smiling sweetly beneath the moonlight and giggling.