Imperial Villa Gardens — Nightfall
The imperial gardens glowed softly beneath lantern light, their golden warmth casting long shadows across polished marble and vibrant hedges. The hum of quiet conversation drifted over the carefully arranged gathering—a rare reprieve from the formality of court, reserved for family and trusted allies alone.
Luciana lingered at the garden's edge, her eyes scanning the intimate scene. The scent of fresh blossoms mingled with the faint aroma of sweet pastries and spiced tea. It wasn't grand by imperial standards, but for Nemesis—a boy whose sixth birthday had nearly slipped unnoticed beneath the shadow of politics—it was perfect.
Augusta led Nemesis along the stone path, his small frame bundled in a light cloak, expression unreadable. He faltered as they stepped into the lantern-lit clearing, wide eyes darting from face to face.
"Mama?" His voice was hesitant, confused.
Luciana smiled softly, stepping forward. "Surprise, my love."
Around them, familiar figures waited, their presence a quiet shield of safety:
Melody, beaming, hurried over and knelt beside him. "Happy birthday, little shadow," she teased affectionately, producing a small parcel. Inside, a set of silver feather clasps glittered. "For your wings—when you're ready to fly higher."
Nemesis's eyes lit with quiet awe, cradling the gift delicately.
Leila approached next, graceful as ever, offering a slender, rune-etched pendant shaped like a raven feather. "For strength. And for protection."
From the side, Aria handed him a small, leather-bound book of illustrated tales—dragons, distant kingdoms, and heroes scribbled across its pages. "For your dreams to stretch beyond the palace walls," she explained with a knowing smile.
Akari, with her calm presence, presented him a carefully wrapped silk pouch containing preserved phoenix down—a token of resilience.
Naila followed, offering a simple yet beautifully carved wooden figurine of a raven mid-flight, crafted by her own hand.
Aurora, elegant and composed, gifted a pressed bloom encased in crystal glass—everbloom from distant isles, symbolic of endurance.
Cornelius, half-grinning, produced a small puzzle cube crafted of polished obsidian and silver. "A challenge for your clever fingers. Here's a secret." He bent.
" It glows once you achieve it." He grinned.
Canute and Grandmaster of the Alchemist Tower, with usual dry humor, offered a small charm inscribed with alchemical protection runes. "For trouble, when it finds you—as it always does."
Octavius, formal yet gentle, gifted a silver compass etched with constellations. "To remind you where you stand. And where to go, when the world feels too large."
Tiberius, ever the scholar, provided a hand-crafted journal, its pages blank and waiting. "For your thoughts, victories, or secret complaints."
Lucerne, with his quiet strength, pressed a carved dagger into Nemesis's palm—a relic carrying protective blessings from his lineage.
Toward the front, a few younger faces eagerly awaited their turn: they were younger than him by two years.
Rubiluneia, still small, shyly approached, holding a tiny handwoven bracelet. It was uneven in places, but brimming with effort. "I made this… for you," she whispered, cheeks flushed.
Seirvahn, puffing his chest in exaggerated pride, offered a small wooden sword, barely more than a toy. "For practice!" he declared, face serious beneath his wild curls.
Eliondras, clutching a simple crown of laurel leaves, beamed as he set it carefully atop Nemesis's head. "You're a prince—you need a crown," he giggled, bouncing on his heels.
Nestled in Leila's arms, baby Apollonia cooed, blissfully unaware, wrapped in delicate silks embroidered with tiny stars—a presence of hope more than words.
Lastly, Helios approached, his gait steady despite his injury, holding a small, signet ring adorned with Amanécer's crest beside the imperial sigil. "For when you're ready to claim your place," he remarked, voice low but steady.
Nemesis stood wide-eyed, overwhelmed by the cascade of gifts, his hands clutching tokens from those he trusted most.
But Luciana had saved hers for last.
Kneeling before him, she carefully unwrapped a velvet bundle—the deep-black robe, embroidered with silver and gold threads detailing the crests of both houses and white fur lined the cloak that felt like soft clouds. The same design as the one she once gave Erebus for his final mission—this, tailored for Nemesis.
"It's yours now," she said softly. "A symbol of strength. A reminder… that you're never alone."
Nemesis reached for it, his small hands trembling with both awe and quiet emotion. Luciana helped him slip it over his shoulders—the fabric light, the stitching precise, its presence a comforting weight.
"You… made this for me?" he whispered, his voice small with wonder.
Luciana nodded, her eyes shining faintly. "For when you need to feel brave. For when you miss your father. For when the world feels heavy."
The robe fit imperfectly—his small frame dwarfed beneath the fabric—but he stood taller, pride blooming behind his cautious smile.
The gathered circle cheered softly, raising cups, voices blending with gentle laughter and music.
For one precious night, amidst blooming flowers and watchful stars, Nemesis was not a prince overshadowed by legacy, but a child—celebrated, seen, loved.
Later That Night — The Imperial Villa Gardens became silent.
The faint hum of voices, music, and laughter had gradually faded, leaving behind only the soft chirring of nocturnal insects and the whisper of wind through the laurel trees. Lanterns flickered low along the garden's edges, casting molten amber pools of light onto the cobblestone paths, but most of the villa had retired for the night.
Luciana remained, seated upon one of the stone benches nestled beneath an arch of climbing white roses, their petals faintly glowing under the moonlight. The cool night air caressed her face, the quiet finally settling after a long, exhausting day.
She glanced to her side.
Nemesis stood nearby, small hands tucked into his new cloak—the silken black fabric pooling slightly around his frame, silver and crimson threads catching fragments of moonlight. The garment seemed oversized on his small body, yet there was something grounding about it—its weight, its symbolism—a shield when the world felt too large.
His dull, silvery ashen hair caught the faintest glint of lunar glow, falling slightly into his eyes as he watched the dark sky above, silent.
Luciana patted the space beside her. "Come sit with me, sweet one."
Without a word, Nemesis obeyed, climbing onto the bench and curling beside her, his small frame leaning into her side.
For a while, neither spoke.
The gardens stretched before them in peaceful quiet, the stars scattered across the velvet sky—sharp and cold, yet eternal.
Luciana's fingers absently smoothed his hair, brushing aside the silvery strands as she observed his face—the faint bruising from his earlier fall nearly faded now beneath the healer's care, but the deeper exhaustion lingered in his small features.
"You liked your gifts?" she finally asked, her voice a quiet murmur against the stillness.
Nemesis nodded, fiddling with the clasp of his new cloak. "I… didn't think they'd remember," he admitted softly. "The others."
"They remember more than you realize," Luciana replied, her hand continuing to stroke his hair. "And you… you are loved, Nemesis."
He was quiet for a long moment, gaze fixed on the distant stars.
"I don't feel strong," he confessed finally, voice breaking faintly. "Everyone… looks at me like I'm supposed to be. Because of Dade. Because of the blood I have. But I feel… small."
Luciana's chest tightened, her hand pausing only to gently cup his cheek, guiding his gaze to hers.
"You are small," she said softly, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "And that's nothing to be ashamed of."
Nemesis frowned, confused, his silvery lashes lowering faintly.
"Strength doesn't mean you never feel afraid," Luciana continued. "It doesn't mean you never stumble, or cry, or miss someone so much it hurts. You are allowed to feel small sometimes, little raven."
"But Dade—"
"Your father," Luciana interrupted gently, her voice bittersweet, "wasn't always the man you see now. He was once small too—lost, scared… carrying burdens he thought would break him. And so was I."
Nemesis's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering there.
"I made mistakes," she admitted, her voice faltering for only a moment. "But I have never stopped trying. For you. For Hades. For Ra'el."
Her arms pulled him closer, the black robe a soft barrier between them.
"And one day, you'll grow into this robe, into your place. But for now… let yourself be small when you need to. Let me carry some of that weight."
Nemesis leaned his head into her shoulder, his small hands gripping the fabric at her waist.
"You promise?" he whispered, his voice fragile but hopeful.
Luciana kissed the crown of his silvery-ashen hair, holding him close beneath the moonlight.
"I promise," she whispered back.
They sat there beneath the stars, mother and son—two fractured hearts learning, slowly, painfully, that strength was not born from perfection… but from staying, even when the world tried to tear them apart.