AFTER THE CEREMONY
The golden hall was unusually silent, save for the echoing of boots as courtiers gathered in breathless tension. Whispers rippled like wind in a forest—Did you see what he did?, He's fifteen, Gods above, he faced a divine champion—
Carlos stood beside his seated brother. He still wore the tattered ceremonial robe, singed and cut through from the divine battle. His hands were gloved now—covering the lingering glow of his activated blessings. But even so, the air around him still crackled with presence.
The ministers—aged men and women who had once served three kings—could barely look him in the eye.
One finally cleared his throat. "Your Majesty… Forgive our intrusion, but this matter of divine recognition—surely, a strategic god of conquest or wealth would have been—"
"I chose her," Erevan said simply.
"But—Your Majesty," another noble stepped forward, trembling slightly, "surely the gods of commerce or light—surely they would better serve the Empire—"
"I chose her," Erevan repeated.
"But she is a goddess of death and—!"
"I chose her."
His voice was quiet, yet absolute. And Carlos try to not to laugh at his brother serious face as he was seeing a ghost and the way his brother interrupting everyone.
And the entire court—nobles, ministers, generals—fell silent.
Their eyes slowly turned to Carlos, as if to find some answer in the boy who had, just hours ago, defended the crown with fury divine. A fifteen-year-old who had stood against a champion of flame and survived.
They didn't see a boy anymore.
They saw a duke whose blade would never tremble, a brother whose loyalty was legend, and a power that kings had once needed armies to match.
Carlos met their eyes. He didn't smile. Didn't bow.
He merely stood.
And the court looked away.
That was all it took.
---
THE KING'S CHAMBER
Later, in the quiet sanctuary of Erevan's chambers, Carlos, Erevan, Lumira, and Kave finally breathed.
"Well," Kave muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was… tense."
"Tense?" Carlos muttered. "They looked like they were deciding which one of us would burn first."
"They're afraid," Erevan said.
"They should be," Carlos replied under his breath.
Lumira let out an explosive sigh and threw a thick towel at both of them. "You idiots!"
Carlos blinked. "What now?"
"You're both idiots," she snapped, pacing. "Running into explosions, yelling at gods, letting unknown power take over your body—Idiots!"
"We survived," Erevan offered.
"Barely! Do you know what your heart did during the battle? It was like playing a drum solo!"
"Lumira," Kave interrupted, raising a hand, "maybe go easy. They just saved the empire."
Lumira spun. "You—!"
Kave flinched. "Oh gods."
"You, little knightling, don't you start with me!" she scolded, wagging a finger. "You should've tackled the king! Or thrown something at him! You let him stand there like he wasn't dying on the inside!"
"I—He wouldn't let me—!"
"Then you hit him with a stick!"
" He Is A King!!"
" Ouch ouch, Stop Hitting Me!!!"
Carlos snorted.
Even Erevan cracked a smile.
Kave looked genuinely hurt. "You're treating me like a child."
"You are a child. With a sword. Which is more dangerous than half the nobles in the court!"
Carlos couldn't hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing.
Erevan joined him, a quiet, tired chuckle that shook his shoulders.
Lumira blinked, hands still raised in fury. "Why are you all laughing?!"
Carlos wheezed. "Because—because you're yelling and hitting Kave like he stepped on your herb garden."
"He did that once," Lumira snapped.
Kave turned red. "It was an accident!"
They all laughed again.
And for a brief moment, despite the gods, the poisonings, the wars and crowns and whispers of fate—they were just four exhausted people in a room together.