The golden morning light felt different today; it didn't feel like a countdown or a reminder of loss. It felt like a new beginning. The sun spilled through the tall windows of the Imperial chambers, painting the room in hues of honey and amber, but it didn't wake Riven. He was out cold, his body finally surrendering to the crushing realization that the nearly seven-year-long imprisonment was over. The stasis of the void had kept him physically fresh, but the mental toll of the return had left him in a slumber so deep it was almost transcendental.
The heavy door creaked open just an inch. Two pairs of small, bare feet padded across the floor with the stealth of little hunters. Adonis and Aaliyah-Lavelle stood by the side of the massive bed, their eyes wide and glittering with excitement. They didn't say a word; they just stood like tiny sentinels, staring at the back of Riven's head.
Aaliyah leaned in, her breath hitching as she whispered, "He's still here. He kept the promise, Donis."
Adonis reached out a hand, hovering his palm just an inch over Riven's shoulder. He didn't touch him, as if he were afraid Riven was made of spun sugar and would turn back into dust if he dared to make contact. "He's still breathing too, Liyah. See? The blanket is moving."
Riven stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He turned over, momentarily disoriented by the silk sheets and the smell of lavender, until his gaze landed on them. For a heartbeat, he looked confused—the nursery of his memory was still fighting with the reality of the two children before him.
Then, he remembered.
He held out his hand, his pinky finger extended. "Told you," he croaked, his voice thick with sleep. "I don't break promises. Well, not if I have a say in it anyway."
The kids scrambled onto the bed, burying themselves in the heavy blankets next to him like a pair of puppies. From his chair by the window, Vaelorian finally let out a breath he felt he'd been holding since the day the scouts returned with an empty helmet.
He's really here, Vaelorian thought, watching the chaotic pile of limbs on the bed. Their bedroom isn't haunted anymore. It's full.
Laughter filled the room as Riven discovered the tickle spots of his children. Aaliyah peppered him with questions—some about the stars, some about whether he liked egg cakes, and some that made no sense at all. Even Adonis, usually the stoic image of his Vaelorian's side, was breathless with giggles.
Vaelorian watched, heart overflowing. He had always known Riven would be an amazing father; he just hadn't expected to wait seven years to see the proof.
When breakfast arrived, the servants were visibly shaken. Even Elera, Vaelorian's nanny and head of staff—the woman who had seen Riven grow from a brash boy into a husband—dropped her professional mask. Riven gave her that signature, lopsided mischievous smile.
"Long time no see, Lady Elera."
The older lady bowed, her eyes misting over. "It has certainly been a long time, Your Majesty," she said, using a tone of motherly warmth she usually reserved only for Vaelorian.
An hour after breakfast, the reunion phase hit a snag. Riven was on the floor, hopping on one foot as he struggled to find his other boot.
"Your Majesty, I can't stay in bed all day. I need to see the city! I need to talk to the General—well, whoever is the General now. I need to move!" Riven complained, his warrior's instinct itching under his skin.
Vaelorian walked over and, with the practiced calmness of a man who ruled millions, firmly pushed Riven back onto the mattress.
"You aren't going anywhere. Anya's orders. And mine. You've been trapped in a dimensional void for years, my love. It might not feel like it to you, but your body needs to calibrate to this world."
"I feel fine! I've had enough rest to last a lifetime!" Riven argued, though his hands were still betraying him with a slight tremor.
"You're staying in bed," Vaelorian said, his silver eyes flashing with a steel that Brooke no argument. "I spent years wondering where you were. You can give me one whole day where I know exactly where you are. Sit. Down."
Riven huffed, crossing his arms like a sulking teenager. "You've gotten more bossy since you became Emperor," he muttered, though the look in his eyes was pure adoration.
The doors burst open again, and Duke Ashbourne practically ran into the room. Behind him, the Former Emperor and Empress walked in, Vaelorian's mother had her hands pressed over her heart. They looked like they were seeing a ghost.
The Duke stopped at the foot of the bed, his face working through a decade's worth of grief. "My boy," he whispered.
Riven stood up slowly, the humor fading into something softer. "Hello, father. Sorry I'm a bit late for dinner."
The Duke didn't even reply. He stepped forward and pulled Riven into a hug so tight it rattled Riven's ribs. The Empress joined them, her tears falling freely.
"We mourned you, my beautiful child," she said softly. "Oh, thank the elders... we held a funeral. The whole Empire wept for you."
"A funeral? Was it a good one? Did you at least use a nice photo?" Riven joked, his voice cracking.
"It was terrible," Duke Ashbourne said, pulling back to grip Riven's shoulders. "Because you weren't there. Don't you ever do that again. I don't care about anything else. Don't leave us again."
Once the parents left to manage the chaos of the palace, the room grew quiet. Vaelorian sat on the edge of the bed and produced a small, leather-bound photo album.
"You missed a lot," Vaelorian said quietly. He flipped to the first page: a tiny, red-faced baby with a tuft of blonde hair. "This was Adonis, ten minutes after he was born."
Riven leaned in, his eyes hungry, his fingers tracing the edges of the photo. "He was so small. Look at those tiny hands..."
Vaelorian suddenly closed the album. Riven looked up in confusion, but Vaelorian simply moved closer, pressing their foreheads together.
"It's better if I show you," Vaelorian whispered.
He opened his mind. In a rush of silver light, Riven saw everything. He felt the cold terror of the day Vaelorian realized Riven wasn't coming home. He saw the twins' first steps in the palace gardens. He heard Aaliyah's first word—"Papa"—spoken to a portrait on the wall. He felt the pride of the new imperial residence being finished, and the bittersweet joy of Willow and Barron's wedding.
Riven took it all in silence. Every memory was a gift, but also a knife, carving out the space where he should have been.
"I feel like I just read a book about someone else's life," Riven whispered when the connection broke. "The last thing I remember was the war, and now... Willow has a daughter? Everything is... it's a lot."
"I know," Vaelorian said, taking his hand. "But we have time now. I'll tell you every story—every tooth they lost, every nightmare they had. You're not a character in a book, Riven. You were the one missing from the pages. Now, the story can actually start again."
Riven looked at the photo of his children as toddlers, a determined look crossing his face. "I have a lot of work to do to be the father they deserve, don't I?"
"Have you seen the way they look at you? You're already the father they wanted," Vaelorian said, pulling him into a soft kiss. "Now, you just have to be the husband I've missed for a lifetime."