And thank goodness for that. Thought a certain husband who could only keep such thoughts to himself.
Sotis, he hated himself for this.
Xavier looked toward Luca, who was now walking just in front of him, trailing behind the Marshal. They were being led toward the Marshal’s office to discuss the offer, one that could change the empire’s future.
To everyone else, the hallway was filled with the quiet hum of boots on tal floors. Most people wouldn’t know what this eting was for and would assu it was for courtesy.
But because he was privy to information, he understood what this deal ant. Each step a supposed prelude to excitent, and each stride a chance to be closer to being a part of sothing historic.
Yet to Imperial Crown Prince Xavier Aeric Theron Solaris, everything felt muted. Like watching light ripple beneath dark water.
Still, he trailed behind Luca, just a step slower, eyes drawn—as always—to the back of the one person who never stopped moving forward.
It was hard to believe that this was the sa person who once got lost trying to find the cafeteria. His little chipmunk used to look around corners with wide eyes, so easily flustered, so easy to fluster. But now?
Luca moved with certainty. Always ahead. Always busy. Always rushing off to the next obligation that required his attention.
He was unusually fast for soone with such short legs. And yet, sohow, never out of reach.
But barely.
After all, who would dare follow in his footsteps?
And as soone who was aware of what Luca was capable of doing, he was truly grateful. And yet laughably, he was aware that a part of him didn’t want to share Luca.
He was selfish like this.
His gloved fingers curled again.
If he’d once seen tea bushes as competition for Luca’s affection, what more those tenacious master chanics?
And that was just monts ago.
They had looked like they were about to weep.
Even now, he could still see their faces.
Eyes threatening to shed weren’t uncommon as the old masters were forced to say farewell. Not all of them showed it outright, but the glistening at the corners of their weathered eyes betrayed them. Even pride couldn’t fully mask it.
Xavier had watched from the side as Luca smiled and bowed, expressing sincere thanks. That dazzling warmth lted the fatigue and stubbornness of the old n like sunlight on snow.
And then the bickering began.
"Try not to die too soon," one of the masters sniffled, trying to maintain composure.
"Speak for yourself," another snorted, waving his cane. "You look like you walked out of a tomb this morning."
"I only walked out because I heard you were all here," a third declared proudly, throwing an arm around the first like they were brothers in arms returning from war.
They were teasing each other like schoolboys.
Ancient, rusted schoolboys with more creaks than jokes, perhaps. But schoolboys nonetheless.
They were clinging to sothing.
No. To soone.
Luca.
Luca was hope. Tangible. Adorable. Personified.
And Xavier understood them.
He understood all too well.
He had clung to that sa hope. That sa light.
And therein lay the problem.
He stood still, unreadable. But his heels threatened to dig deeper.
Because he knew what it ant. To watch others realize what he had already known for so long. To see the world begin to reach for the person he already cherished.
They would never let go. Just like he couldn’t.
This was yet another group of competitors.
So he made his move.
He gave quiet orders to Kyle and Jax.
"Lead the masters to the daycare," he said. A simple gesture, a polite follow-up. A thank-you for their ti. An apology for Luca’s early departure.
But really, it was also a precaution.
Because by ushering them through the pocket dinsion’s gate, he could check their intentions.
There were things more dangerous than beasts. And Xavier would always err on the side of caution when it ca to Luca.
He had already promised not to lock Luca away. He would not break that vow.
So, instead, he would lock away anyone who posed a threat.
But then again, that wasn’t always possible, no?
Like what the Marshal’s office stood for.
It was the familiar office. A room built on war and legacy that always intended to remind one of duty and of sacrifice.
And it wasn’t even his office.
He took his seat quietly, listening to the opening remarks, but his focus drifted.
Duchess Alia pulled out a small bag of kale chips. The Marshal raised a brow.
"Let’s talk about what we can offer each other," the man said. "I believe you know the military needs these. We won’t pretend otherwise."
Leander nodded. "Which is precisely why we are here, Marshal. Because we’d like to inform you that it’s possible to produce more."
"?!"
Curtis blinked. "Wait. Your Grace, you an, there’s already a thod?"
The Duchess smiled faintly. "We’re willing to negotiate if the military would agree to a few stipulations. But first, consider this batch as our thanks for the earlier favor."
Xavier watched as the Marshal and his deputy looked at each other as if confirming whether they had heard correctly. After all, what House of Kyros was offering was really more of a new lease on life.
The Marshal promised to review the terms as soon as possible.
While Xavier just sat there observing. His uncle likely understood what this was about. And while it was much easier to trust the endeavor considering his direct involvent, what the Marshal really needed to do was to offer terms that would protect the rights of House Kyros.
The eting didn’t drag on for long; there was no need to. After all, most people would understand the implications of what they just said.
And really, what probably took ti was his uncle’s conversation with the Duke and Duchess and his genuine awe of Luca.
Who was surprisingly not listening.
Which was odd. Because if there was one thing about his wife, it was how he was a sponge that always seed ready to absorb information. So what was wrong?
Xavier’s eyes followed his gaze.
And eventually it landed on a slanted photo fra on the Marshal’s desk.
A family portrait.
The Imperial Family. Without him.
Xavier usually didn’t mind. But seeing Luca looking at it, he suddenly felt sothing cold and sharp coil beneath his ribs.
That photo. Of course. The one taken after he had been quietly excised from view, when duty required distance and the crown took precedence over sonship. It was just a photo. Ideally.
But knowing his wife, was he looking at it and feeling... sorrow?
Or was it pity?
A soft throb blood in Xavier’s chest as the question struck deeper.
Did Luca see that image and think, "This is the cost"?
Did he wonder if this was truly the life he wished to tie himself to? One where sacrifices were made and family usually had to take a backseat?
Xavier’s breath grew shallow. The edges of the room seed to waver, as though the walls were tilting inward. His fingers twitched against his lap, then curled tight.
What if Luca, with all his radiance, all his fire, realized he could never burn freely there?
What if Luca didn’t want a life like his? What if he realized that the throne offered nothing worth suffering for?
What could Xavier offer him that made it all worthwhile?
Only himself, and the weight he carried.
And what soul, no matter how kind, could love the very cage he had always tried to avoid?
The chill inside Xavier deepened. It had not touched him like this in years.
He could feel it, slow and smothering. The beginning of the spiral.
The room continued to buzz behind him, indistinct voices blurring into one another. Xavier didn’t hear a word.
He was still caught in that spiral, thoughts looping, circling closer to despair with each breath.
And then, a soft rustle. Barely audible. But enough.
He looked up, almost absently.
Luca was approaching.
Not with his usual brightness or spring, but slowly, as if burdened by so thought. His hair fell forward, partially obscuring his face, his eyes hidden.
Xavier braced himself.
Was it confirmation? A quiet request? A gentle rejection of the future Xavier feared he had tethered him to?
Luca stopped before him. Still quiet.
Xavier could barely breathe.
Then, Luca lifted his head.
Those eyes—clear, bright, overflowing with wonder.
Xavier blinked. That wasn’t sorrow. That wasn’t pity.
Luca leaned in with a whisper, soft and reverent.
"Xavier... I now understand why you’re so handso. Your entire family looks really good."
There was a beat.
A pause too stunned for words.
"..."
"..."
Luca looked confused because of Xavier’s expression.
And yet even the prince wouldn’t know just what kind of face he was sporting.
Then—
Xavier laughed.
It burst from him before he could stop it.
He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until it rushed out of him in one grateful exhale.
Color returned. The haze lifted.
Ah.
Again.
And when he looked at Luca, it was with renewed clarity—and teasing fondness.
"Would it help you like better if I beca even more handso?"
"!!!"
"What?! That’s possible?!" Luca gasped, genuinely astonished.
Xavier smiled, eyes soft, voice warr than it had been all day.
"Anything for you."
After all, he had only ever wanted what was best for Luca.
But what could he do, really?
When he loved soone as bright as the sun.
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