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Sadie was two and ten years old when Chamberlain Laura burst into his room to hand his mother a magazine pamphlet.

Though young and ignorant of both state affairs and social situations, Sadie was astute enough to have noticed the crack in the atmosphere that Laura brought with her arrival. After all, she had so abruptly interrupted the short hours of family time they were able to get outside of the eighteen hours Sadie spent asleep, and as Mother's most trusted aide—right under her dearest religious companion—Laura knew precisely just how important these scarce few hours were for the Imperial family.

His kind godmother had stopped reading, as well, and Sadie knew just how much Godmother adored reading to him during his meals, as he was never awake enough to afford spending different hours to both reading and eating respectively. In turn, his gentle father's face had also twisted up, first freezing with shock before spinning with dizzying worry upon reading the news.

Very rarely did his father's passive face ever crumble. Father was someone who was always softly smiling, making up for the more stoic and sharper expressions of his mother like complimentary puzzles, only ever melting when they were alone all together. So Sadie had easily picked up that something had to be wrong, and Sadie was certain, because his father always called him the smartest and kindest child in the world, and if there was one thing his father was, it was always right.

Those were the universal truths.

Sadie was smart.

Sadie was kind.

And his gentle father was always right.

So, as Father picked him up in his arms, softly brushing his hair as he muttered kind reassurances, it was only natural for Sadie to be taken with his beautiful father's long dark hair, fluttering as warmly as the night sky, soothed by his words.

Nothing is wrong, Father said, murmuring softly into his hair. Everything will be alright.

The servants trailing behind them were teary and fretting with worry, but Alexandre's steady blue eyes were enough to free Sadie of any concerns.

Only a few days had passed before the entire court was thrown into a flurry.

Sadie couldn't know for sure, but he knew that when his mother was cooped up in the throne room where a bunch of old geezers frequently came in and out with varying degrees of pleading faces and stress-white—miserable countenances only further empathized by their slumped shoulders—it was only natural for him to assume something was wrong.

That was silly, however, because nothing was supposed to be wrong.

The only thing wrong was Sadie himself, and he didn't know what Mother was doing, busying herself to such a degree that the entire court felt tense with the effects—but he knew it must have had something to do with him, even as affairs settled down a bit and his parents decided to take a trip to Yvelines, where the bell tower his father had spent much of his time innovating new magic formulas and tools was.

Father said he was going to grow big and strong, just like him, though Sadie had frequently seen his father get beaten one too many times by his mother on the training grounds. And so in the end, he shifted his aspiration to grow into a big and strong emperor like Mother was, regally wielding a large sword that could fell armies in a single swoop—an Emperor who was just as equally going to be as smart and kind as his father, a perfect blend of Mother and Father.

He was going to be able to walk around the city during his birthdays and observe firsthand the lanterns that thousands of strangers lit to celebrate his existence. He was going to run around without growing tired and stay awake for longer than a mere six hours a day, become taller than any other child his age, and have separate allotted times for both his meals and Godmother-nim's storybook readings, respectively.

He was going to become the greatest emperor to ever exist—the only child fitting for the throne that his mother currently sat upon. His distant cousins couldn't be better than he was; Sadie had never met the Diops, but all he knew was that one day, Mother had quietly mentioned his 6th cousin's name to Father, and Sadie was smart because he was the smartest boy his father had ever known, and had understood what the tired, sombre look on his mother's face had meant at the time.

He had known it, then. That there was something wrong with him.

But there shouldn't have been anything wrong with Sadie, because Father and Mother said he was the best kid in the world, and Sadie didn't know what he would do, had they been wrong about him this entire time.

He slept longer than any other kid, and that meant he was going to grow so much bigger than everyone else in the future—Sadie had to.

He was going to make Mother, Father, and Godmother proud. Even when he knew, inherently, fundamentally, in the very depths of his soul, that something was wrong, but—

Everything will be alright, Father said, and Sadie had to believe him, because Father was the smartest archmage, and he was always right.

So it was a strange thing to see his father who had always been so strong, curled up in the distance as he poured himself over what was perhaps the largest magical formulation Sadie had ever seen in his life.

Father's magic was beautiful; that was one of the other universal truths in life.

The strength and beauty of his father’s 9th-grade magic was one of the reasons Sadie had initially wanted to follow in his footsteps, before realizing his mother's swordsmanship was even more powerful. From the mystical grace to the finely crafted wand that his father wielded, Sadie had always watched with fascination whenever his father developed new magic tools or innovated never-before-seen formulas. Father's pretty hands were calloused from the efforts of his craft, with fingers that were nimble and long—the same ones that carefully carved a magic wand just for Sadie on one of his birthdays, fuelled by love and care.

"Father."

But this…

"Father, no… No, there's so much blood—"

The beautiful wand his father had always proudly taken care of was shattered by his side, seeping into the blood that gradually stained the floor. Small arms clung to Father's fine clothes, with small trembling hands struggling to hold him up. Sadie had always been small, but not once had he ever felt so powerless—a speck of dust in the magnitude of this whirlwind of magic and divine retribution.

Blood was pumping in his ears, drumming so loudly he could barely hear his own rapidly heaving breaths over its staggering rhythm. There was so much blood—too much, the most he'd seen in his life—more than he'd ever needed to see at all. He felt as if he was drowning in this blood, choking him up and clogging his ears, crimson staining his eyes as he tried to find the surface to escape all this horrid torment. In this moment alone, he felt worse than he ever had, chained in the dungeons where darkness swallowed him whole, isolated so that his broken soul could rampage with the least collateral damage possible, etheric runaways much too strong for even his parents to handle.

"Sadie," Father murmured, his pale bloodied hand, once the warmest thing in the Imperial Palace, now cold and wet as he brushed Sadie's hair. "It's not your fault at all..."

—There was way too much blood.

From his father's nose, from his ears, from the gap between his lips—bright red blood was pouring.

It was a disaster that the small hands of a child couldn't ever hope to prevent.

The floor of the Yvelines bell tower was staining itself crimson, a morbid flower blooming beneath where their bodies were slumped against each other on the ground. The white stone that reflected the light of the full moon peering through the tower's open arches looked vibrant—blurring Sadie's wet eyes with a glowing sheen that nearly obstructed his view, as if hoping to shield his eyes from the traumatizing sight as the only form of mercy it can give.

"—It's not your fault," his father mindlessly murmured, the blue of his eyes glossing over as the once beautiful colour dripped with blood, the whites of his eyes now a terrible pink. "Everything will..will be alright…"

Father was always right.

That was one of the universal truths in life.

But another was this:

Sadie was not stupid.

And the biggest truth was, he was the sole cause of all the tragedies in life.

"Father… Father, open your eyes…!!"

He could hear his father's attendant from Charpentier Palace rushing over to the bell tower, his godmother's frantic voice shouting in the approaching distance.

"—No, no! Nicky!!"

His serene godmother had never looked so devastated in her life.

"Let go, I can save him! I can save him! Nicky, how could you be like this—!!"

Godmother-nim's pure stream of ether sparkled up around her from where she was cradling Father's bloodied body. Carried from over Attendant David's shoulder, Sadie could only watch, numb, as his godmother wailed, so loudly he could still hear her breaking voice through the hands covering his ears. She had a voice that had always spoken to him so gently; it had never occurred to him that its timbre could take on so much grief. The sensation and feel of her ether were shielded by the covenant exclusively contracted between her and Mother, but even then, he could feel the force of her vessel pulsing through the air and shuddering throughout the tower.

Mother had rushed forward in an instant, scrambling as she pulled her companion into a frantic hug, reigning in the crazed flow of her wayward ether—outraged and wild, a human disaster in the making—because no matter how much she would give for her most beloved to be saved, one partner over the other was a deal she would never trade.

Not once had Sadie ever seen his mother cry. Not once had he thought that the strongest person he ever knew could make a face such as the one she had currently been wearing. He wondered if he was dreaming—to have gotten to a point in life where he'd be able to witness such a sight must mean that he was stuck in a terrible nightmare, for what other reason could there be, for his family to know calamity such as this?

Overhead, the night sky was terribly bright; moonlight washing over this tragedy like the spotlights of a sad little stage play on a sad little stage.

["—Curse!"] Godmother screamed, voice so loud in her desperation it was scratching itself raw. ["The one who made you like this, I curse…! "]

Wide-eyed and with the world coming to a blurry standstill, Sadie looked out of the bell tower's open arches—

And the full Moon stared wide back.

For a moment, the world was engulfed by a strong white light, a thundering sound like ripping paper tearing across the sky.

The magic formula drawn onto the tower's white stone floor shone a bright purple, and the night sky cleared—just for a moment—as the moon slowly receded Her warm unearthly light, washing over Sadie like a caress no different from his parent's loving hands. It felt like an apology; it felt like a reassuring embrace; it felt like a long overdue answer.

Through the arched windows of the bell tower, backlit by the watchful full moon, a figure with soft brown hair stepped foot into his father's magic circle, opening his eyes to grace them with a purple so divine the Church dared not even use themselves.

Transfixed, Sadie stared. He stared as if time itself had momentarily stopped, every attendant and guard halting in place with bated breath, observing the youth-like angel as he braced forward, undeterred by the stunned silence he had brought forth with his moonlit presence.

Tears silently dripped down his godmother's face as she bore witness, equally taken aback by this young man who had on his back three pairs of wings, ceramic white and as pure as the Moon. By her side, supporting her partners' weakened figures, Mother's astonishment was so strong that even Durendal hadn't an opportunity to draw itself to point at the unaccounted new factor; but Father was unconscious in Godmother's arms, barely breathing and bleeding profusely, and she dared not entertain leaving their sides to pick up her blade.

The sight made a small quirk furrow itself upon the angel's brow, a face of worry on someone who didn't even know them at all to deserve such a sincere response.

《 May the Almighty God have mercy on your soul, 》 the youth murmured softly in a language none had ever heard of before, the blue light of an astonishing healing circle forming around them as he outstretched his hands—so large it exceeded the boundaries of the tower itself, cupping them in divine palms.

It was the warmest light Sadie had ever felt in his life.

For a few days, the Yvelines summer palace hosted an otherworldly, though unconscious, guest.

It was the most surreal experience, from having nearly lost his father to the weight of the Lord's gaze, to an angel suddenly appearing to rectify all wounds, only for said angel to lose consciousness soon after committing the deed. The only reason he hadn't been concussed or injured was because Mother had snapped out of her shock just in time to catch the youth before he collapsed onto the ground.

He was young, she had noted after collecting herself, weighing him in her arms—only a few years older than Sadie himself, and certainly no older than sixteen.

Perhaps it was for that reason that they had treated him so nicely; a young man who—despite being affiliated in some way with the same God who had nearly crushed his father's soul—was still barely the age of an adult, or at the very least, presented himself as one. Mother was firm and harsh with everyone but always, without fail, considerate with the ones she loved, and that care extended to those who helped her family in any way possible. His innocent face made it hard to harbour much suspicion against him, as well, not at all an expression that could be associated with the cold, omniscient apathy attributed to the idea of divine beings.

But regardless of affiliation with the Almighty Lord or not, the young man had healed Sadie's father, an act that would have taken a Cardinal like his godmother a sacrifice worth her entire soul and reserve of ether to achieve. Sadie knew that much—that his godmother would have died if it meant being able to save Father, and that he would have lost someone last night regardless, had it not been for this angel.

Sadie would rather not have to pick between two people he loved, and he had the angel to thank for allowing him to evade ever having to make such a decision.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason for his interest. The presence of an angel, of all beings, was naturally a point of curiosity for a child such as Sadie. Though his godmother mostly read him tales about fairies, angels occasionally made an appearance in his storybook adventures.

Peeking into the angel's temporary chambers from the doorway, Sadie cautiously scanned the room. It was morning—which was odd and new, because Sadie's six hours outside of sleep had typically always been later in the afternoon—and so it was the first time in a long while that he had seen a sight such as the one before him.

Soft light poured into the guest room through the sheer white curtains, casting a glow upon the angel's form. From his delicate brown hair to the faint shadows cast from long downturned lashes onto the gentle slope of his cheeks, the sight was so peaceful it looked too surreal to be true. A painting not unlike what he'd seen in library books and the Imperial Museum gallery, harmonious and divine, captured by the most famed of artists' dedicated brush. 

Sadie hadn't experienced morning in so long. He had almost forgotten what to expect.

But this—

Those brown lashes fluttered open, revealing faint purple eyes.

The colour of the Divine stole his breath away, making his heart jump to his throat in a sharp hitch.

《 Hello, 》the angel said, smiling softly as he carefully sat himself up. The bedsheets pooled off his torso in a way that revealed clothing that was more distinctly Riestan—different from the garments the youth had been wearing upon his sudden arrival—white, as well, though somehow not as pure as the three pairs of wings on the angel's back. 《 It is an honour to finally meet you. Oh, this is so exciting, I've always— 》

Swallowing dryly, Sadie gripped the edge of the doorway.

"—I… I do not understand what Angel-nim is saying."

The angel looked a little shocked at this, before carefully saying a few more words. This proved to be futile, however; the almost musical tones of his voice were flowery and less staccato, with rhythmic vowels that flowed smoothly into soft consonants that were less harsh than the Riestan tongue. And though Sadie had yet to properly learn Venetiaan, he was familiar enough with the languages of the continent to know this wasn't a tongue he had ever been privy to.

"Ah… I see our esteemed guest has woken up," came the familiar soothing voice of his godmother. With a gesture of her hand, Godmother allowed the servants following her to push in a trolley where plates of soft and easily digestible food were.

With a happy glint in his eyes, the angel shuffled himself to the edge of his bed, gratefully bidding what must have been a thanks of some kind in his divine tongue. Scanning the trays, he enthusiastically picked up a spoon to take a sip of the consommé, soon letting out a pleased hum.

"—oh this is so very delicious," the angel dreamily sighed, face mellowed into an expression of enjoyment. "Thank you very much.."

The familiar sounds of the Riestan language flowed out of him, and Sadie could see his shock mirrored faintly in his godmother's own more subtle reaction.

"I can understand you, now," Sadie blurted out before he could even think of reigning himself in. When he realized what he had just done, he shuffled backwards in a way that partially shielded himself behind his godmother's robes.

"Ah—" The angel looked down at his silver spoon with surprised consideration, before his expression gathered back together. "Ah, yes, that's right! I am grateful to Their Majesties and Her Eminence for allowing me such a splendid meal—the consummation of food aids in tying one down to the provenance of the mortal plane. Think of it as a language cheat, haha.."

"How fascinating," Godmother muttered, genuine in her interest in how otherworldly affairs were conducted. For all that Sadie knew she was wise, even he knew that his esteemed godmother knew as much as everyone else about the Divine.

In response to his godmother's intrigued murmur, the angel merely smiled before standing up to his feet, gracing them with a bow. The cultural customs of divine beings were notably different—back straight as the youth inclined forward a few degrees from the waist, hands before his thighs rather than over his heart or fisted across the chest as it was typically done in Riester and Venetiaan.

["My name is Yeseo,"] the young angel said, a golden sanctum spreading wide across the floor of the room, ["and I have been sent here in response to His Majesty the Prince Consort Alexandre's request for aid."]

Bountiful ether, the purest ever felt, washed over every single person in the guestroom. The angel spoke not a single lie—evident from the lack of negative reaction from his etheric sanctum—and the weight of his sincerity made Cédric feel full and whole. Like a wide southern field abundant with golden wheat and sunflower stocks, Sadie peered up from where he had moved behind his godmother's robes to meet Angel Yeseo's eyes, feeling the sensation of his gentle gaze sweep over him in a warm breeze.

He felt kind; kinder than even the eye of the full Moon that slowly blinked in phases throughout the month, watching over the continent in watchful omniscience—a quiet spectator in a bustling world.

"Oh… You've been hurting for a long time, haven't you?"

All at once, the deep-rooted fatigue that had plagued him from the marrow of his bones suddenly uplifted, and Sadie felt—in the very depths of his soul—parts of his cracked existence lining up with liquid gold, overflowing a vessel that had previously only ever known drought and emptiness.

"Forgive me for being so late," Angel Yeseo murmured, the divine purple of his eyes slowly dimming with the droop of his lashes and the slow fade of his etheric circle. "As long as I am here, His Highness will never hurt in such a way again—as per the will of my inquirer, His Majesty the Prince Consort Alexandre."

Tears welled up in Sadie's orange eyes at this otherworldly sensation he had never once felt, surrounded by ether particles that flew up around him like golden upward rain. No one had ever promised him this—no one other than his father who could only murmur soft reassurances and apologetic promises, still futile because not even a man as powerful as he was could go against the divine will of the Lord.

Overtaken by a flurry of emotion not even he could understand, Sadie launched himself at the angel before his godmother could even pull him back, burying his tearful face into the angel's stomach—a magnet that had finally found its only pole.

The small flustered hand that reached up to steady him was awkward, but the warmest sensation he had ever felt.

Angel Yeseo was six and ten years old, Sadie later learnt. Only four years his elder, though in Sadie's opinion, the older boy looked a little younger due to his pretty face.

Godmother was a bit surprised to know that their divine guest was so young, perhaps having expected an incarnation of the Lord to be as old as the universe itself—and if not physically, then at least spiritually. But as she observed the angel's somewhat bashful face, something within her softened, and the image of a cold, apathetic, all-powerful being slowly faded from her mind, shaping her new perception of divine beings into the form of an awkward teenager who had a surprisingly large fondness for Riester cuisine, (or of cuisine, in general, as they would later learn.)

As a Cardinal, it was perhaps odd for her to reconcile the image of celestial beings with someone so human—so very much like any other.

Sadie, however, had preconceptions that were nowhere as strong.

He had always thought there was only the Almighty God. He didn't know She had incarnations like Sir Yeseo, young and human-like, with pretty faces that looked more fragile than strong, or anything of the sort. It made him somewhat irritated, however, that the Lord had let him suffer in Her rejection for twelve whole years before only now just sending him an answer.

Why had he been so despised? Sadie had done nothing wrong besides being born, only an infant when the Lord decided to avert Her gaze from his existence, barring him from Her mercy and acceptance.

But Sir Yeseo…

"Sir Angel, how did you live before arriving here?"

A blink of surprise. Perhaps the angel hadn't expected a little prince to be interested in his personal life. "Well, my home in the Interstellar was certainly smaller, that's for sure."

"Smaller…?"

A pensive hum. "The bedroom I have been given in Juliette Palace is definitely much larger than my entire home!"

A frown played itself on Sadie's brows. How could a house be smaller than a bedchamber? Were angels less fortunate than the average commoner family in Riester? His mother always made sure that her people could live comfortably in her Empire, did the Almighty God not care for her angels the way his own mother did for her people?

"Did Sir Angel live in a barn?"

"..........." An exasperated smile crossed Sir Yeseo’s face at that moment. “Barns are for animals and livestock, Prince Cédric,” he said simply, a gentle dismissal of his own.

Sadie frowned deeper, observing the young angel with a growing grimace. Sir Yeseo’s three pairs of wings mostly went hidden, these days, as they took up a lot of space all while attracting all the more attention from curious and admiring gazes. The only visible proof that the angel still had them at all could be found in the open backs of his shirts—specially made for his needs by the Imperial tailors. 

“I will make sure Sir Angel isn’t used as livestock here. I won't let anyone eat you.”

… Sir Angel was too pretty and too kind to be considered poultry.

The startled choke and giggle that escaped the angel sounded like music to his ears, wings popping out of his back to flutter in his glee. At once, Sadie revelled in the sound, preening like a flower showered by sunlight and misted rain.

Sometimes he forgot how young this angel was. His divine air and ethereal appearance oftentimes gave off the impression that he was wiser than he looked, but moments such as these—where Sir Yeseo was giggling to the point where he lost control of his own emotive wings—reminded Sadie that this was indeed a boy similar in age as himself.

“Thank you very much, Prince Cédric,” Sir Yeseo grinned, the curve of his lips amused and almost fond. Reaching towards him, his fingers were gentle as they brushed through Sadie’s dark hair. “You are my hero—my little knight in shining armour.”

"I'm a prince," Sadie insisted, "so I should be your prince in shining armour, instead."

"Hm… Well, in the first place, this doesn't quite work out. Am I not your guardian angel first? I should be the one in charge of protecting His Highness."

“—No!" came an immediate protest. "I... I don't need protection. I'm a prince, and then I'll be emperor, and when that happens I'll be the one protecting you when I'm older."

Sir Yeseo's laugh was indulgent and so so very pretty, like musical notes from a carillon he never wanted to hear end. "Of course, Prince Cédric."

"The strongest emperor in all of Riester's history!"

The glint in the older boy's eyes was subtle—pansophical—as if he were privy to something Sadie wouldn't ever know until much later.

"You will," he said, so very simply, something all-knowing in his gaze that cannot be deciphered. "And you will marry a kind and pretty girl who will make you very happy, too."

Something sour simmered in Sadie's heart at those words, because no matter how hard he tried, he could not conjure an image of anyone kinder or prettier than the boy before him.

"I don't want to marry," he grumbled. "I'll just be a strong emperor with you by my side."

"If that's what you wish," the angel smiled, shrugging leniently. "That's the most important part, anyway—you'll be strong and healthy, even once you get grey hair. You won't ever feel unnecessary pain, ever again, and your rule will be seamless."

From the tone of his voice alone, Sadie could tell he was being genuine. He hadn't heard this level of confidence before in his life, other than from his parents and godmother. So many people in the palace court had pestered his mother to adopt the child of their distant relatives—but Sir Yeseo, despite only knowing him for less than a month, was speaking as if there were no other alternatives for the throne besides Sadie himself, and a life that would be grand more so than bleak.

"Oh… But if you're the strongest, then that means you won't need me anymore."

Silence befell Sadie at those words, and the more he thought about it, the more he disliked whatever image he had conjured up. "... That's not true. I will need you."

"Are you sure?" came the angel's tease. "Hmm… I don't know…"

"I'm sure—I'm sure that I will need you even then!"

Head throwing back with mirth, Sir Yeseo laughed with abundance, the silky strands of his hair fluttering in the soft breeze. Sadie was a smart child, so he knew from this alone that the older boy had been teasing him, and with vengeance, he began tugging at the other's sleeve in a petulant effort to get him to stop.

With a breathy sigh, Sir Yeseo eventually composed himself, one hand reaching to pat Sadie on the head. It would have felt slightly patronizing, had it not been for the warm grin currently lighting up the angel's face. It had all been in good fun, and even if Sadie didn't want to admit it—since it had, after all, been at his own expense—he couldn't even remember the last time he had interacted with anyone his age in such a carefree manner. There was Countess Moutet's daughter, but even they hadn't spent much time together, only rarely meeting on the off chance that the countdom heir was in the palace during any of the six hours he was awake.

Pouting, Sadie tightened in grip on the angel's white sleeves. The sight made Sir Yeseo's eyes crinkle up, and a finger soon pressed itself gently between his brows.

"Prince Cédric is too young to be frowning so much."

"Who is Prince Cédric?" Sadie muttered stubbornly. "Call me Sadie."

"Sadie..?"

"My nickname—" Sadie urgently leaned forward. "Derived from my middle name. And since you know that now, that means you have to stay."

A glint of surprise flickered before him. “Derived from your middle name,” Sir Yeseo repeated, said in a tone of voice that suggested he already knew what it was—and from the glint of his purple eyes, Sadie knew for certain that the other was aware. What a secret to keep from someone; Sadie wasn't allowed to tell his middle name to anyone but family, close friends, or lovers, and yet the being before him seemed to know what everyone else did not.

“You know what it is,” he accused knowingly, almost outraged. “Since you know mine, you must tell me yours!”

“I don’t have one!” Sir Yeseo laughed in response to his fit, shifting his wings into a more comfortable position that would allow Sadie to be tucked safely against them. “Where hyung is from, middle names aren't a thing."

The concept of middle names not existing was foreign to Sadie. Nearly every country in the continent who were subjected to the Almighty God’s gaze practiced this tradition, and for a child to not have one meant that they would be snatched up by the Lord in the middle of the night.

“Is that why you’re an angel?” he asked, running a hand over one of Sir Yeseo’s feathers. They were clean and soft, and such a pure shade of white he was almost afraid of staining it with his mortal touch. They were pretty, as pretty as Sir Yeseo himself, and it made something warm buzz in his head. “Because— Because hyung doesn't have a middle name, and the Almighty God stole you away…”

That pulled yet another laugh from Sir Yeseo, who regarded him with kind amusement.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he whispered, leaning down to face Sadie properly, his wings shifting around them in a makeshift cover that shielded them from the garden sunlight. Piqued by the opportunity to learn more about the mysterious young angel, Sadie eagerly leaned in. “My name in your language is written ‘Yeseo’," he spelled diligently, each letter at a time, and Sadie memorized every single one in his heart, "but in my mother tongue, we write it like this.”

Taking Sadie’s hand in his, Sir Yeseo traced lines and circles that he hadn't seen or heard of before into the palm of his hand.

《 정예서 》

Even through the fabric of his gloves, Sadie could feel the warmth of Sir Yeseo’s finger wash through his veins and into his arm, each drag of his index tickling him the same comfortable way his ether did.

"That's my full name."

The weight of the angel's name written on the palm of his hand was as heavy as the Moon, lightened by the secretive whisper that followed like a midnight breeze.

"Keep it safe for me, okay?" Sir Yeseo smiled secretively, the expression boyish on his youthful face, voice only a hush of a sound. "So that the Lord will not take me away from my little prince in shining armour."

Nodding fervently, Sadie gripped the angel's hand tightly in his own, almost reverently, revelling in the tingling sensation beneath his skin. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Only later would Cédric understand that most of what Yeseo said to him when they were children was in jest—said for the sake of entertaining the imaginations of a young boy—but as he was then, twelve years old and green behind the ears, Sadie had already made up his mind.

The Almighty God wouldn't ever take his angel away.

Perhaps Sadie should have expected it, with how much Sir Angel's gentle countenance reminded him of his father, that the two of them would get along.

Sir Yeseo spent a lot of his time with Father during the earlier weeks of his arrival, as the healing process for what his father had done was so extensive, it would have taken a soul sacrifice or the ether of multiple healing priests to stabilize his condition.

But the angel was able to help nurse him back on track without much difficulty, and even before that, Sadie was already able to tell that the older boy was amazing, because Sir Yeseo had managed to accomplish what no other group of priests had done for him in the past.

"The Riester Imperial family will forever be in your debt," Mother had told the angel, the back of his small hand grasped firmly in her calloused grip, brought to her forehead where she thanked him for all that he'd done. Royalty didn't casually bow to just anyone, other than their family or their lovers, and to do so for another was a great sign of respect and thanks.

And before her private, most trusted inner court, she had proclaimed him the Riester bloodline's benefactor and granted him the referral title of Sir Yeseo. She would have given him a more official title and even bestowed him land, had it not been for his precarious position as a divine being.

It seemed that the whole world had noticed the paper-like tear in the sky that briefly appeared the night Sir Yeseo descended. From that alone, it was impossible to stop rumours from spreading; no matter how late into the evening it was, the neighbouring towns in the Yvelines territory were bound to have merchants and citizens alike awake and running during the night market.

Therefore it was no surprise that the Vatican had immediately come running at the first hint of rumours surrounding a figure with three pairs of wings descending from the full moon. Barely a month had passed before Vicar General Ronald Rupert travelled from the desert just to inquire himself on the whereabouts and future plans for the descended divine being.

Harbouring an incarnation of the Lord within Riestan ranks was already a charged message to send to neighbouring countries, and the Empress' desire to offer that divine being nationality to their lands when they should belong to the Almighty God—neutral in all aspects, favouring none without any bias—was… complicated.

The Vatican wanted to take the angel back to the desert where the Temple of Boundaries resided, neutral grounds where the main church of the Almighty God remained rooted alongside the World Tree.

"Divine Mother has given me a mission," Sir Yeseo had told them, the youngest in this meeting between the Vatican procession and the Imperial Court, and yet also the one with the most sway.

His purpose for being in these mortal planes was Sadie and Sadie alone, and so in the Riester Empire he would stay.

Sadie's father had been the one to nearly sacrifice his whole life force to summon, and the angel had responded in kind—supervising the health of the prince consort, and tending to the cracks of Sadie's vessel that had been a national secret for so long.

Naturally, the Vatican hadn't been too pleased with the angel's decision, but there wasn't anything they could do when faced with the youth's firm stance on the matter. Cardinal Arie Schott from the Neutral Priests' group was perhaps the quickest to concede to the young man's will with appropriate understanding. He had a task, he had told them, and that task required him to be by the Imperial Prince's side. With those words, what else was the Vatican to do but honour the mission the Almighty God had given Her incarnation?

The Vatican was finally sent away with Empress Frédérique gifting the young Sir Angel the Juliette Palace as his permanent residence.

It was enough of a message to send—despite Juliette's more obscure symbolic nature—that the new resident of the palace was to be a companion of the sole prince of Riester.

Following that event, it came to no one's surprise when new rumours began to spread, murmuring about the Lord sending one of Her angels to bless the Riester Empire's sole heir and future. Even the Fleur-de-Lis, who had initially prophecized Sadie's death, hadn't been able to say much in the face of the Lord's vessel himself showing such favourability towards the young prince. Tide and rumours were swiftly turning, and suddenly it felt as if the future of the Empire was surely being blessed with a number of good omens.

Sadie's father had even shed tears of joy upon seeing his son awake and healthy, the very day he woke up from prolonged bed rest following his summoning attempt.

Other than his life, the prince consort had almost lost his eyes that night, unable to withstand staring the Almighty God in the eye with his mortal shell. But under Yeseo's tender care during the more critical moments of his recovery, he had now come to a point where their palace healing priests could safely take over the job.

Prince Consort Alexandre's eyes would make their recovery, and that was enough.

Whenever he was awake, Sadie made sure to drag Sir Angel with him to visit his father, who always welcomed them with a warm smile. It was a bit odd, now that he thought about it, with Sadie being the one to wait for his father to wake. It had always been the reverse, but with the steady care of the angel's pure ether, Sadie had begun to require less and less amount of sleep to keep him energetic for the day.

"—Angel-nim, I managed to look into the Solar Halo herb you mentioned a while back."

The sound of Father's voice made Sir Yeseo pause, just as he was able to drink his tea.

"Ah," he murmured, setting his cup back onto its saucer. "You managed to find areas of growth…"

"Yes," A rueful smile could be seen on Father's face. The pair of glasses set upon his nosebridge was a familiar sight these days, as there was only so much one could do with a divine injury, even with an angel's assistance. "Near the base of the mountain behind Juliette Palace, there is the Aitz village. Our soldiers were able to find graves dating back to the Warring Era where Venetiaan soldiers had buried deceased priests."

Half-asleep next to his father, Sadie didn't quite understand the conversation they were having, but he knew enough to know that deceased priests were not buried in Riester, cremated, instead, and on occasion scattered into the Sea of Silence.

"—I've been looking into their detoxifying properties. I am… surprised to have discovered other children throughout the continent with similar conditions to our Sadie. I hadn't known about this… If only I had known earlier, I could have—"

"His Majesty the Prince Consort should not blame himself for anything," came the young angel's appeasing voice, lulling Sadie's drowsy ears. "The growth process of Halo Herbs is… unique. I do not blame Riestan customs for cremating priests and holy knights. It is a much kinder fate than to be used post-mortem for unkind affairs when they should finally be at rest."

"I discovered that this medicine is expensive in the Divine Kingdom," Father quietly followed, his hand absent-mindedly brushing through Sadie's dark hair. "I do not understand how they can allow children to suffer when—" A sigh escaped him, then, face rubbing into his free hand. "... Forgive me, Angel-nim. I am the adult here, and yet I constantly find myself seeking your wisdom and counsel in ways unbefitting of me. You've already done so much…"

"Oh no, it is no trouble, Your Majesty…! The reason I am here in the first place is to help you and your son. Please be at ease..."

Sniffles could be heard in the silence of the large chamber, and in his sleep, Sadie could feel his father's embrace warmly guide him into his dreams.

".... It's bitter."

Sadie laughed at the pinched look on Angel hyung's face. They were currently testing out the effects of the odd herb Father wanted to research, and from the looks of it, the tea they made from it didn't appear to have a nice taste.

"My apologies, Angel-nim," Father sheepishly chuckled, reaching across the table to hand over a piece of candy. He would have looked sincere in his apology, had it not been for the amused spark in his sapphire eyes.

Father and the angel had been spending a lot of time together, these days. Godmother had even been roped in at some point, and Sadie was able to see firsthand the way his father got himself invested in his research projects, becoming more and more invested like a man digging himself into a hole.

It turns out that the Solar Halo herb was only able to affect the ether, rather than the vessel itself, and so the preferred result of hopefully having some medicine to benefit Sadie's health eventually came to naught. Sir Angel, however, declined Father's dejected suggestion to halt using his ether as Halo Herb growth, and the two of them later jumped into a new project that would hopefully have a cheaper—preferably free—supply of Lunar Halo herb medicine available, donated to temples across the country for those in need.

Angel hyung was truly amazing, Sadie thought. Being able to constantly supply him with ether while also still having reserve to spare to help cultivate his special medicinal herbs.

When he was way younger, it had taken over a dozen priests to bring Sadie to some level of stability—but even then they had all collapsed, drained of ether despite Sadie's vessel still yearning for more and more and more. In the end, the intervention was deemed unsustainable on a regular daily basis, and Sadie had to suffer a few more years until the Almighty God finally sent him Sir Yeseo.

He was truly greedy.

Sir Yeseo was helping his father cultivate a steady supply of medicine for children with similar ether deficiencies as he had, but Sadie couldn't help the ugly bubble welling up within him that wanted to monopolize every single drop of his angel's ether.

One look at his pouting, dissatisfied face while looking at the angel in the Halo Herb greenhouse had Mother cackling in his face.

"Oh, my baby," she had smirked widely, pinching his cheek with red crinkled eyes. "You truly are my son."

"Yves, do not start…" Godmother scolded, though despite what should have been a reprimanding tone, there was a distinct lack of heat behind her words, more exasperated than particularly cautious.

"Sadie, you will understand when you are older," Mother said wisely, ignoring her beseeching partner. "But whatever it is you are feeling, it is completely natural."

He blinked, before quizzically scrunching his face into a frown. "Natural?"

"You want it all for yourself," Mother said with absolute certainty, as if she had seen into his soul and had once been in his shoes, herself. "You want to drink up all that ether and hide the excess away for no one but yourself to look at."

The look Grandmother was shooting his mother was scalding, but a flustered look stained her expression ever so slightly. There had been a time, once, when two girls had a fateful encounter in a temple where a carefree crown princess fell in love with a young priest's clear ether and dutiful attitude.

"... I do," Sadie grumpily admitted, somewhat ashamed of his own childishness. "It's not fair. Hyung is supposed to be my guardian angel, but he's helping other kids too."

Propping her elbow onto the table and resting her head against her head, Mother peered down at him with a pensive hum.

"Priests have that sort of effect. Particularly on Holy Knights, but other people can still feel the effects of ether, as well. It is an innate desire, to covet that pure feeling; to yearn to become one with it in a way that will complete your soul. Some people may feel stronger about it than others. But priests feel differently—they do not feel this yearning the way others do."

In the distance, Father and Sir Yeseo were huddled together in the greenhouse, observing the growth of their plants. The prince consort had a notepad in hand and was deeply engaged with the research they were conducting, jotting down any suggestion or observation that the youth threw his way.

"The angel kid might be even more different," Mother shrugged. "He's an angel, after all, and might be wired differently than others. Perhaps it's in his nature to want to help, when he has so much ether to give than he knows what to do with. That kid's ether faucet is constantly running open, from what I hear—probably to satisfy your bottomless pit of a vessel."

"But I don't want him to give," Sadie grumbled. "I want him to give only to me."

"Ha! Then lock him up, you silly boy," with a cackle, Mother's mirth only grew all the more intense when Godmother began to scold her from her side of the table.

Lock him up? Sadie blinked puzzledly.

One of the universal truths in life was that Father was always right.

And so when his father told him that Mother often said weird things that he shouldn't pay attention to, Sadie knew that was right, too.

"Your Eminence," Yeseo blinked, greeting the Cardinal who had just caught him on his way to Romero Palace.

"Ah, Angel-nim," Aurélie smiled. "I see you're heading out to meet our dear Sadie. Would you mind accompanying me?"

"Oh—yes, of course!"

The angel's arm was lithe and thin around Aurélie's. For someone who always carried himself with so much grace, she had often forgotten how young he was. Only sixteen years of age, he was just barely considered an adult under Riester law, but he had once mentioned that, from where he came, people came of age at nineteen instead.

It was a curious thing, their cultural differences. Perhaps the divine beings' coming of age was pushed back due to the lack of responsibility needed for their young to have. Did angels marry? Did they have households to inherit? She wondered, as well, if they worked and were paid for their labour to sustain themselves in everyday life.

Looking at the young man gently guiding her by the arm, Aurélie found that this angel in particular was so very human.

'Divine Mother,' he had called the Lord. Was it a symbolic generalization or a genuine familial relation?

If Aurélie had gone through with her curse… What kind of life would she have affected? An eye for an eye, she would have demanded an equal trade without any hesitation. The pain of losing Alexandre in exchange for Hers, ten times over if she had any say in it.

"Do you have family at home?" she tentatively asked.

Purple eyes momentarily flickered to hers, no doubt curious about this sudden curiosity.

"I have parents," he said, and the more he thought about it, the more Aurélie could see his face melt into silly fondness. It made something clench in her chest, knowing that she could have possibly shattered such a tender expression with a few scornful words and vengeful intent. "I have an older brother and a younger sister as well."

"Are they also tasked with duties?"

"Ah, my older brother is overlooking another world—similar to this one, but people largely practice martial arts and wield the sword as a primary weapon."

"Oh my." Martial arts and swords? "Frédérique would surely enjoy such a world," Aurélie chuckled, prompting a laugh from the angel, as well. The Empress' prowess as a swordmaster was well-known throughout the continent, after all, with her aura so strong that the Imperial Palace had to be specially built just to withstand its sheer intensity whenever she used it to silence her court. Anyone who thought of a swordmaster would surely have her reputation come to mind.

"As for my little sister… Mother still wishes to keep her in the nest for now. But she is very fond of this world—adores it with her entire being, truthfully, as do I. Though, had she been tasked here, she would have surely caused a ruckus and flipped the whole world over in a single day. She's very excitable and temperamental, not to mention she is still very young, you see—only seven years old!" and he said this with much adoration, a happy flush dusting his pale cheeks. "All she can manage at the moment is a defensive sanctum, but we all know that with time, she would make it an offensive move through sheer willpower if she could."

The young girl sounded like a delight, Aurélie couldn't help but think with much amusement. Despite not having met the other two divine siblings, she found herself intrigued by the domestic stories and fond anecdotes. A rambunctious angel, no different from a human child—who would have thought? The stained glass panels of the many chapels and churches she had visited had never portrayed angels in images that were less than reserved and serene. The older brother sounded much like the conventional image: hardworking and diligent, though prone to occasional bouts of overwork.

"So you miss them?" she couldn't help but ask, a more gentle inflection overtaking her tone. "Your family?"

The angel was quiet for a short second.

"We will reunite eventually," he simply said, voice soft and almost a murmur. She was unable to fully determine if there were traces of any homesickness, but the slight downturned angle of his lashes was just enough to tip her off on a slight hint of longing—just barely there, tinging at the seams.

Aurélie wasn't quite sure what 'eventually' would mean. Would the angel live a regular human lifespan before returning to his Divine Mother's embrace? Or would his mission be considered accomplished the second Sadie's vessel was fully healed?

Deciding it fit to shift the mood of the conversation, Aurélie picked up another topic.

"—What of your own defensive abilities? I've seen firsthand the extent of your healing circle, and it was very impressive."

The flustered and awkward look on the angel's face was enough of a response for Aurélie. Chuckling once more, it was perhaps a spur-of-the-moment decision to offer to teach him. She had free time throughout the week, however, and she did genuinely want to get along well with this special being who was helping her godson.

"... Truly? Ah, if... if it won't be any trouble. I've spent a lot of time memorizing healing patterns, but I've always been a little lacking in practical defense..."

It was a bit surprising to know that an angel would still require help with his abilities, but—he was young. Truly young. Kind and good-hearted, Aurélie rather liked this angel, still full of room for growth and curiosity, so human for a being that was meant to be celestial and beyond mortal convention.

"You are our Sadie's guardian angel, are you not?" she smiled softly, looking in the distance to notice Sadie spotting their approach. "You are a kind child, Angel-nim. Thank you for taking care of that precious boy… I have a feeling that he's been waiting for someone like you his entire life, and I am glad you appeared when you did."

The stunned look that crossed the angel's eyes was gratifying—perhaps he himself hadn't even realized the fullest extent of Cédric's pain until his arrival. Perhaps he didn't think anyone would be thanking him so sincerely for this task that he attended to with such ease.

But as the only one able to help glue all the pieces of his vessel back together, Aurélie hoped, with full sincerity, that the young angel would be able to handle Sadie's soul with the tenderness and care it deserves. She has spent twelve years caring for that boy—that sweet child who should be a wildfire instead of a shuddering campfire spark. Meant for greatness but hindered by divine rejection, rendered frail and weak for so long.

Aurélie prayed that the Angel-nim would be gentle; that he'd be kind.

"—It's a bit embarrassing," Sir Yeseo sheepishly scratched his cheek. "Her Eminence is very knowledgeable. I feel like I might not be living up to the ideal angel preconception."

Aurélie could have cooed. She loved Sadie and all his fiery stubbornness, but the inconsequential worries of a cute child were also refreshing. "Nonsense. Angel-nim and I can both learn from each other. There is much that I do not know about Divine culture."

He peered up at her, brimming delight and curiosity fluttering within his purple eyes as they talked. It was a beautiful day, and even more so with pleasant company.

"Then, I shall be in Teacher-nim's care."

"And I as well, Angel-nim."

Sadie's voice rang in the distance, making his way over to them on swift, excitable feet, before he launched himself directly into the angel's robes despite the storybooks he was carrying in his arms. Angel-nim staggered for a bit, but was quick to steady himself—no doubt, by now, used to the wild flame that was the little Riester prince. They slotted together like long-lost puzzles, with Sadie (who was typically rather quiet, with so much bottled-up rage and fire) now chattering the angel's ear off with abundant excitement, and Sir Yeseo took all his energy in stride.

Aurélie watched the two boys giggle as the divine being let himself be dragged by the sleeve. Sadie never had a proper opportunity to play with kids his age, and she was forever thankful that the angel was here to finally give him the opportunity to play and run around like the healthy kid he deserved to be.

"—Remember, Angel-nim," she called out before the two boys could fully run off beyond her sight. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 11 AM. The doors to my office at Sénaire Palace will always be open to you."

The angel's wings had popped out at some point, fluttering high to provide both Sadie and himself some shade to read in comfort in the gardens. Turning back, he bowed in his distinct divine style that she was beginning to think fondly of, and waved goodbye with a boyish grin when Sadie impatiently tugged at his sleeve.

They were very cute, Aurélie chuckled fondly. She hoped that the young angel would be a good companion for her godson, for as long as he intended to stay.

On his thirteenth birthday, Sadie watched the celebratory lanterns fill the sky, beautiful as per usual.

He still wasn't allowed to go into the city, as, though he was now healthy enough to run around the palace gardens, he got winded after a short few minutes. The excitement of more public locations such as the Legault Commerce Center would surely tire him of all his strength in mere seconds.

And so, Sir Yeseo remained faithful company throughout, his ether now a permanent fixture amidst the palace, permeating the air like the soothing scent of flowers. His reserve was large—too large, perhaps—so much to give that leaving his etheric faucet open and running didn't even hinder him in the slightest. Even all the way from Juliette Palace, Sadie could feel the Angel hyung's presence wrapping around him, perpetually soothing his soul, even as he slept through the night riddled with only the most gentle of dreams.

Sadie's soul was thirsty—he didn't know if this thirst could ever be quenched in the first place.

He had gone his whole life yearning for an oasis in this damning desert that was life, and now that he's finally felt the ocean at his feet, he could never see himself going back.

"Happy birthday, Sadie," Angel hyung smiled, passing the greeting through a gentle squeeze of their joined hands. Pressed into Sadie's palm was a necklace, the golden stone at the end filled to the brim with ether, and Sadie enthusiastically passed it over his head, feeling the warmth radiating through the stone comforting him where it settled over his chest.

Over the years, Sadie had gotten hundreds of presents from nobles he had never even met, and well-wishes from millions of people he would never even see. Despite this, he would always, without fail, find awed fascination in the thousands of lanterns lit to celebrate his existence.

But in this moment, as particles of ether escaped him amidst Sir Yeseo's sanctum, illuminating the angel’s soft brown hair with gold, dancing like delicate fairy lights…

The sight was his most favourite and prettiest gift of all.

As a proxy member of the Imperial Family, as well as an incarnation of the Almighty God, Sir Yeseo was allowed to attend any formal events and balls hosted by the Crown.

There wasn't much known about Divine culture, so his delegated Juliette attendant Benjamin made sure to dress him in Riester clothing for daily activity, all while maintaining a more religious attire for formal events. It should be said, however, that due to the nature of his wings that allowed him to retract and protract them at will (and still, on occasion, subconsciously whenever his emotions or fluster got the best of him) most of his clothing consisted of either open backs or had slits to accommodate his divine limbs.

It was a bit embarrassing. His clothing appeared very much like demure religious garments and priestly robes, but exposed the expanse of his back for all to see like an almost scandalous contradiction. Now at eighteen years of age, Yeseo was starting to grow tall into a maturing young man, and it wasn't uncommon for wandering eyes to follow his figure, young nobles eyeing him from the rims of their fans and hats, hoping to find themselves good prospect matches.

According to an amused Aurélie, he was perhaps the top bachelor of the Empire, especially since her godson was still two birthdays away from his own coming of age. What a horrifying thought. Yeseo never thought much about love, and wasn't sure if his duties could even allow the time to entertain a potential partner. Romantic advances were never anything he studied for, and so he hoped he could escape the marriage market scot-free.

"I don't like how everyone is staring," Sadie glowered, a loyal sentinel by Yeseo's side, even amidst all the activity of the first Spring Ball the young boy was able to attend in all his fourteen—soon fifteen—years.

"It is because Prince-nim is so adorable," Yeseo couldn't help but gently tease, though there was a hint of joyful sincerity in his words. "Your future wife will be so lucky~"

"Hyung."

It has almost been three years since Yeseo arrived, summoned by Prince Consort Alexandre's magic formation. Since then, Cédric had grown from the frail little Sadie to an Imperial Prince who was showing great potential growth spurt, settling into all his features. Though he was still not as tall as Yeseo, yet—only just reaching his eyes—Sadie found that his fingers were lengthening out, and his feet were continuously outgrowing his boots, limbs swiftly accommodating to the tall figure he would surely make in a few years. His growing pains were only soothed by the constant reassurances of Yeseo's ever-present ether, and for that Sadie was thankful.

The Empress was incredibly tall, Yeseo noted, and Prince Consort Alexandre, for all that his gentle nature made him seem docile, was also an intimidating man when he wanted to be. Tall and brimming with magical power, he wasn't an Archmage for nothing.

"—The next song is about to start. Are you not going to dance?" Yeseo asked his companion, eyeing the small crowd of young women who were pointedly shuffling their feet in their range of sight. They were all around Sadie's age, wearing pretty dresses and gloves made of soft silks and lace, looking their best to enjoy the evening in good company that would appreciate their efforts, a dance, and good conversation.

Sadie glowered at him with a pointed gaze.

"Dance with me," he instead said—more so demanded, honestly—and Yeseo was barely able to register the words before Sadie was already dragging him to the centre of the room—the only pair on the dance floor so far, once people noticed who, exactly, had stepped up for the next song.

A wave of murmurs washed over the entire hall, some more excited than others, a part of them intrigued, and the hush was only subsided by Sadie's fixated stare on the orchestra group, who was quick to catch on as they launched into the next song.

"W, wait— Your Highness, I do not actually know how to ballroom dance...!"

Sadie grinned sharply, a look so mean-toothed and sly for a boy only nearly fifteen years of age. Without a doubt, he was truly beginning to resemble his mother more and more these days, especially now that he had the energy to go around and be especially devious.

Reaching for Yeseo's arms, Sadie directed the other's hand so that it could rest on his shoulder, while the other held snugly in each other's palms. Yeseo jolted briefly when he felt the Imperial Prince's hand rest over his waist, realizing he was in the position of the Follow, rather than the Lead—understandable, however, as it was the only position that Sadie himself knew, and it was better for one of them to know how to dance, rather than have both of them be at a loss.

"Just follow my lead," Sadie arrogantly instructed, as if ballroom dancing was easy for one to just follow along with a more experienced partner. Truthfully, Yeseo wanted to punt the younger teen across the hall, but once the music started, the prince looked so pleased and content with guiding Yeseo around the room that he couldn't find it in himself to scold him.

Soon enough, other pairs joined them on the floor, and both Imperial Prince and Angel laughed and snickered every time Sadie's boot got stepped on by Yeseo's uncoordinated steps.

And though the excitement made Yeseo's wings pop up from the open back of his robes—nearly knocking into a neighbouring couple and leaving stray feathers in his wake—the dizziness and simple joy of their clumsy dancing made for a rather perfect evening.

It came perhaps to the surprise of none that for Sadie's fifteenth birthday only a few months later, the young prince immediately demanded that Sir Yeseo take dancing lessons for that year's present.

In hindsight, it was a fitting punishment for having stepped several times over the imperial prince's pristine boots.

Yeseo took the lessons in stride: at nineteen, he was proving himself to be a swift learner, both in Riestan culture as well as in his studies with Aurélie—and Sadie always made time in his schedule to sneak into Yeseo's lessons, if only so that he could play the role of the Angel's partner.

"You are still shorter than me," Angel-nim was reported to frequently say, wondering why he couldn't practice with the instructor who was a more appropriate height for teaching him the leading role steps. "Why aren't I leading?"

In response, the Imperial Prince would always frown and huff. "I will be taller one day," he'd say with complete confidence. "So you need to learn the Follow's steps, so that by then I can be your Lead."

Never mind that height didn't determine one's dancing position at all—Imperial Prince Cédric wanted to be Sir Angel's sole leading partner, and simply wouldn't entertain the thought of anyone else touching his companion's waist.

Of course, it only took a few more months for Cédric to catch up to Yeseo's height.

At only nineteen, the Angel had already stopped growing, and though he was still rather tall at 179 centimetres, the Imperial Prince only continued to shoot up from there.

In Yeseo's humble opinion, it was truly quite absurd.

Her Majesty Empress Frédérique was in no way a short woman, and Prince Consort Alexandre himself stood at 184 centimetres, but their son was already beginning to surpass his height.

Regardless, on Cédric's 16th birthday celebration, a huge ball was hosted to congratulate the Empire's only heir for finally coming of age—at the peak of health and spirit thanks to Yeseo's diligent care.

This time, when Cédric dragged Yeseo onto the dance floor, it was with much more experience beneath both of their belts. It was only then, as well, that Yeseo realized just how much he had grown from being the sickly little Sadie.

Cédric's hands were large and long, and even through the fabric of his gloves Yeseo could feel the heat of his fire-attribute ether flowing through them, firm against Yeseo's waist. It lingered there for a second before Yeseo shot him a pointed look, and Cédric petulantly remembered his dance lessons before shifting it upward to remain against Yeseo's back. And once the music started, it was with a small chuckle that Yeseo remembered how it was only a year back that this young man used to be smaller than him; now the one to be looking down at Yeseo, instead.

There was no doubt that Cédric knew what Yeseo was thinking about, because the prince promptly rolled his eyes. His self-awareness only made Yeseo all the more amused, and a wave of fondness washed over him as the music picked up, and the young man whose side he has always stuck by, was now gently guiding him across the hall, confident steps and snug grips twirling him around.

Months of practicing in each other's company have made them in-tuned with their partner's being almost instinctively, and every one of their flaws was supported by the other's strengths. Where Cédric led them with a confident gait, Yeseo provided more elegant steps, and whenever they danced to quicker rhythms, Cédric's strength would support Yeseo as he allowed himself to be spun and twirled—complimentary in all aspects.

Even later, when Yeseo's dancing instructor deemed him perfect enough to wrap up their lessons, Cédric still sought him out every once in a while to partake in a waltz or an allemande—privately, either in one of the rooms of their palaces or quietly in the comfort of their gardens, paired with no music other than their own conversation and chuckles.

All this made them a harmonious dancing pair, and they proved it this very day.

Wearing a headdress made of golden threads and pure white gems, his brown hair appeared gold as the light from the chandeliers refracted off his jewellery. Everything Yeseo wore to this ball was picked out by Cédric, gifted to him on his own birthdays, of which Cédric was firm in telling him he looked the best in.

During their dance, Yeseo didn't step on Cédric's shoes even once, content to let himself be guided and sway alongside Cédric's familiar gait, hand in hand as it were so well-known to them. The different suits and dresses blurred around them in passing swirls of colour, but they had eyes for none other than themselves, the steps of familiar dances now far too ingrained into each other's bones to the point where they could even do this with closed eyes. But Yeseo still purposefully let himself slip up near the end, if only so that he could see Cédric's chuckle-filled scowl as he lifted him up to catch him from falling, allowing himself to be spun around by the growing strength of Cédric's arms and body.

He laughed breathily as Cédric held him high, feeling the breeze that followed as familiar as it were to fly, hair fluttering the same as it would the feathers of his wings. Looking down, his grin only grew wider at the soft sight that Cédric made, lit from the overhead chandeliers, looking up at him from where he held him up by the waist. It lasted only for a few seconds but felt no different from an eternity.

"Happy 16th birthday, Sadie," Yeseo whispered once they had bowed to each other at the end of the song, safely returned to the ground and garnering adoring applause. "The Fates have bestowed me this truth—you are destined for greatness, and a long, happy life on this earth."

"Is that so?"

Yeseo smiled, taking in the deep gaze of his friend before him, sunset-orange hues and passionate candle flames.

"I know so," he said confidently; believed it with his entire heart.

Cédric smirked, a quirk of his lips so rare yet so beloved. "Then that must mean you will be with me for the rest of my life."

Despite the single foot-stained mark left on his pristinely polished boot, Cédric's eyes softened a considerable amount, no real trace of annoyance in sight. His head tilted, then, and with embarrassing fluster Yeseo found his wings popping out the slits of his robes when he felt a pair of lips press against the back of his hand. He would have swatted the young man away had it not been for the number of eyes on them—therefore, he allowed Cédric this mischievous moment, rolling his eyes at the pleased little grimace and twinkle of Cédric's gaze that lit up at being permitted this leniency. He had always been one to joke around, after all.

Cédric was officially an adult now, by Riester standards, but Yeseo knew that a single night wasn't enough to make a mature adult out of a boy. He still proved himself to be a silly young man, even as he took the next obligatory dances to politely greet and converse with other young noblewomen his age as per the convention, only to then purposeful annoy Young Lady Élisabeth Moutet when it was their turn on the floor. Though she still had yet for her own coming-of-age only a few months away, the Heir Countess was still invited as per her relationship with Cédric, as well as her mother's with the Crown.

Whenever the two friends passed by Yeseo on the sidelines, he made sure to joyfully sneak a laugh at them, vexed expressions on their faces no doubt any different than one would have after eating a particularly sour lemon. Élisabeth preferred leading while she danced as much as she liked her suits over dresses, but Cédric was nothing if not stubborn, and refused to succumb to her nagging and proceeded to sweep her across the floor as they both grumbled insults beneath their breaths.

Of course, when their turn ended, Élisabeth swiftly made her way towards Yeseo to take as her next dance partner, a twinkle much evident in her eyes—much to the detriment of Cédric who had purposefully only allowed Yeseo to learn how to be the Follow.

Élisabeth’s smug grin as she took him to the dancefloor was so amusing it nearly made Yeseo forget all his steps as he danced under her lead, nearly crumbling with laughter every time they passed by a scowling Cédric.

(As an apology, Yeseo allowed Cédric to monopolize all his attention while they snacked away at the food table.)

"Hyung."

At a familiar title, said in a lowering timbre of voice, Yeseo looked up at the call.

Cédric was there as usual—always in his line of sight, never straying too far, nor for too long—and an ebony gloved hand was soon extended to him.

"Another dance," he said, not so much a request than it was an expectation.

And oh, how could Yeseo ever say no to this silly young man?

"You should be saving up all these dances for your future wife," he sighed forlornly, nevertheless accepting the hand reaching out to him.

"Enough with your nonsense, hyung." Cédric clicked his tongue, sunset-orange eyes dimming unpleasantly. "You're the only one."

The Imperial Prince took Yeseo back once more onto the dance floor, determined (as he put it) to cleanse Yeseo of the dirty touch that Élisabeth had imparted on him—as if she hadn't been wearing gloves herself.

Exasperated, Yeseo couldn't help but think that, despite the young man's new sprouting height and physique, he truly was still the same sticky, arrogant, selfish brat.

"Of course, my prince," he murmured beneath a tiny, wavering grin, so soft it could have blended into the music.

Hand in hand, it was clear to both of them that their hands were starting to fit snugly together.

"—Oh, Your Highness! What in the world happened? Why is Dame Élisabeth in such a state!"

At eight and ten years of age, Cédric had—as expected—grown a considerable amount from the tiny, sickly young boy he had once been. Previously only barely reaching Yeseo's midriff, he now practically towered over his senior, in a way that he made sure to flaunt about whenever he could.

"Hyung," he greeted, accepting all the fretting the angel was showering him, the waves of ether filling up his reserves with a now-familiar warmth. At once he crowded into Yeseo's space, making the older man have to crane his neck up just to inquisitively stare him down.

"You wouldn't believe this bastard, Lord Yeseo—!" Élisabeth scowled as she ran up to them, taking off a once-pristine coat that was now burnt in both sleeves to stomp out the rest of the flames with her foot. "Just because he is now able to have some amount of control on his ether, he now thinks himself a human wildfire! This is my third coat of the week! Please talk some sense into him!!"

"Who would have thought a knight of the Imperial Guard to be so weak," Cédric scoffed back, as if Élisabeth wasn't currently on her way to becoming the best in her ranks, very highly thought of and anticipated to take over the position of vice-captain in the future.

"This bastard…! Why don't I hit you once and go to jail?! It will be worth it—!"

"The two of you are friends," Yeseo exasperatedly said. "Please play nice. And you, Prince Cédric," he turned, pointedly fixating him with what Cédric and Élisabeth mutually agreed was his you're-better-than-this stare, "If you keep overusing your ether like this, I will have to make sure you don't run the risk of suffering depletion when you are not in my sight. Do you wish for me to constantly supervise your every move? Go easy on your vessel, it is still delicate—you know this!—and while I'm fully aware that you are excited about your abilities as a Holy Knight, honestly, please think about what are you doing to my hard work, ah… There is a limit to how much you can strain it—especially if it's to bully your friend! Look at poor Dame Élisabeth's jacket, you could have burned—"

"Hyung..." Cédric swayed on his feet with a pitiful-sounding voice. Without hesitation, Yeseo rushed forward to stabilize him, his head tucking itself onto the top of Yeseo's soft hair. "Ether…"

"Oh, seriously, you…" With a grumble of a sigh, Yeseo accepted Cédric into his arms as the prince slumped forward, allowing Cédric to rest his head into the crook of the other's neck. Where had the little kid he once knew gone? He used to be so cute, and now he was…… incredibly handsome, yes, but— but still very childish. "I've just given you a lot this morning, how are you still in need of more? Don't worry your hyung like this, think of your parents, too…"

From over Yeseo's shoulder, Cédric stuck his tongue out at Élisabeth, who rolled her eyes before mimicking beating him up as she punched the air—of course, all behind Yeseo's back.

Spotting Cédric's fingers smoothly creeping up the expanse of Yeseo's open back, Élisabeth feigned a gag, averting her gaze at once to retrieve her broken sword. She didn't slave through an entire sparring session listening to that fucker complain about how revealing the Imperial tailors were making Yeseo's clothing, just for that same guy to be the functionality's number one admirer. His puppy love was embarrassing and disgusting, honestly, and Élisabeth was starting to reconsider their friendship if all this dog food was going to be habitually shoved down her throat.

Ha… the poor Angel-nim. Of all the princes in the world, he just had to be stuck with the stickiest, most devious one.

It was well known throughout the palace that the young Imperial Prince was quite infatuated with Lord Angel.

Having met at twelve and sixteen respectively, they had grown no differently than childhood friends. Now twenty-one and twenty-five, they were still as attached to each other's hips as they had been since their first meeting.

Everywhere Angel-nim went, His Imperial Highness followed. It would be presumptuous to think that the little Sun of the Empire could follow anyone else but his own self, but all have seen how the prince has stared at his ever-present companion, stars alight in his sunset eyes, hung by the Angel's own hands.

"Oh, my— Good day, Your Highness, Angel-nim!"

"Good day! I hope the weather isn't too hot for you," Angel-nim smiled, nodding at the passing maid. By his side, Prince Cédric held a basket of food at the crook of his arm—unusual, for a man of his status, but the pair had always preferred picnicking in private whenever they could, away from the eyes of ever-present attendants.

Fondly, the maid watched the duo continue their stroll into the gardens. It was a site everyone was accustomed to and one that brought much joy. Angel-nim's ether had been a constant fixture in Imperial Palace grounds since his arrival, and since then, none had ever been plagued with bad dreams, ever again.

Sir Angel was a constant bringer of good omens.

The Almighty God had replied to His Majesty the Prince Consort's pleas and answered by sending Her incarnation, blessing the Empire with the only heir's good health, and no doubt prosperous future. His awakening as a Holy Knight only further confirmed this public sentiment—having previously only ever appeared in the Divine Kingdom of Venetiaan, as they were Knights that served the Lord.

But the Almighty God had sent Her angel to the Empire as a blessing to their heir, and with that a Holy Knight to protect Her divine Son in return.

What were they, if not made for one another? Excited murmurs were on the rise about whether or not the Imperial Prince would be taking his guardian angel as his religious partner—Sir Yeseo was renowned for his grand abilities as a priest, after all; having been considered a Cardinal at such a young age, and who has only continued to prove his abilities from there under the guidance of Her Eminence Aurélie Boutier. There wasn't any worthy person alive that could possibly be able to stand by His Highness' side with the Lord's incarnation there.

Angel-nim seemed to have fully won over their Majesties' and Her Eminence's approvals. Sensitive to the heat, Sir Yeseo had annually been invited up north to the Yvelines Duchy to spend time with the Imperial Family at their summer palace, and had acquired permanent weekly Sunday invites for tea in the tulips gardens privy only to royalty. Paired with the Angel being named the owner of the Juliette Palace with all its symbolism in relation to Romero's… none could be blamed for the assumptions about the pair's relationship.

However, it did raise questions about who the Imperial Prince would take as his political companion. There have been talks about the only daughter of the Sarnez Household who had just recently come of age, especially since it was inevitable that the heir of an Empire had to marry, and well… Sir Yeseo was a divine being and had the most religious sway than perhaps even a pope, but he was foreign—divine—and did not come from a Riestan household who could offer the Crown political support.

… But love?

The servant thought back to the gentle way Prince Cédric escorted Angel-nim by the arm, and the soft look in his fiery eyes that only simmered when in the presence of his companion. Sir Yeseo’s precious divine body now bore physical alterations—having pierced his ears to adorn the lovely pair of dangling gold and amethyst earrings that the Imperial Prince had gifted him not too long ago, a perfect compliment to the angel's eyes.

Sighing wistfully, the maid returned to her task. There was still a list of things she had yet to do.

Basket of bed sheets in hand, she turned the corner only to be startled by a running figure of red hair.

("—Duke! Duke Sarnez, please—!")

"What is going on..?" Yeseo murmured over a bite from his profiterole. Humming, he allowed Cédric to take a handkerchief to wipe some remnants of custard off his lips, before turning towards the source of the racket.

"I shall call the guards," Cédric frowned, his perceptible ears easily having picked up on the many voices ringing in the distance. Those who interrupted his precious time with Yeseo should suffer punishment; he was never one to be lenient with such disturbances to his favourite moments of the day. "Who dares cause such commotion on Imperial grounds?"

"—ir Yeseo! Sir, I beg, I must speak with you—!"

Cédric watched as a frown minutely spread on Yeseo's pretty face, finishing the last of his morsel before standing up, dusting crumbs off his lap. That alone was enough to cue Cédric into what may transpire next, and a small wave of exasperation passed through him.

"Hyung—"

"Shall we go?" Yeseo smiled down at him, eyes curving at the displeased frown that greeted him. "We cannot ignore someone who is in need of aid."

Though clearly unhappy, Cédric sighed through gritted teeth, relenting only because he knew that Yeseo would go regardless if Cédric would tag along, and that very much wouldn't do. If someone was demanding his hyung's attention, then it was only right that Cédric followed—it had been as such for nearly a decade, and would not be changing now.

"... Very well."

Not too long after, Cédric and Yeseo emerged from the gardens, escorting each other by the crooks of their elbows, only to be confronted by the sight of a roux-haired man distressingly running around. It was only until he crossed their gazes that the man switched his attention, walking quickly in their direction with wide, desperate eyes. Though he was clearly well-dressed in the way nobility was, his steps were staggered and frantic, no different from the common man void of such bone-ingrained etiquette.

Alarmed, Cédric immediately stepped forward, hands on the hit of his sword, ready to be drawn—

"Angel-nim," the man nearly sobbed, falling to his knees before them, just at the tip of Cédric's blade. It was only then that Cédric recognized who this person was—Duke Simon de Sarnez, loyal to Her Majesty the Empress, who was a strong supporter and even friend. Having passed through Imperial halls many times, Cédric was well acquainted with the older man's appearance. "Please… Please help my daughter, she…"

Yeseo's brown eyes minutely widened, mouth falling open, just the slightest bit. His features wavered like rippling water from the faintest breeze—until finally, his lips curled into a small, resolved smile.

Inwardly sighing, Cédric didn't need to hear the other's words to know his decision.

"Prepare a carriage," he ordered the nearest servant before anything could be said. A small crowd had already formed what with the commotion Duke Sarnez had caused, and there were many available on hand to report the scene. "Send another to notify my mother."

Turning to him, Yeseo, as well, needn't hear any other word to know that Cédric would be following, aware of each other's mannerisms like the back of their own hands. By sharing a gaze, all was enough, so in-tuned in thoughts that they might as well be one.

"Your Highness— Angel-nim—" David interjected. "I humbly advise that you at least bring this matter to Her Majesty before departing… It would be unwise to travel without seeing her and leave them all worried..!"

Yeseo hummed. "Ah, that would be wise, wouldn't it…"

Leaning down, Yeseo gently helped Duke Sarnez up to his feet, producing a handkerchief from his pocket to allow the man to wipe his tears. Crossing gazes with Cédric, they exchanged a more subtle nod—guiding the snivelling Duke Sarnez back to Her Majesty. The route was familiar to Yeseo, by now, as the Sénaire Palace was also where Her Eminence's office was, and three days a week for several years he had been there already. It was as much of a home as both the Romero and Juliette Palaces now were for him.

Upon arriving, it was of no surprise that Empress Frédérique was already waiting for their arrival with both of her companions by her side. The servant they had sent beforehand to notify them of their approach did well to fill them in on the events that had just previously inspired, and Duke Sarnez didn't fail to launch into an explanation for his frantic actions.

My daughter has fallen ill, he had cried. She's been asleep for over a week, and neither priest nor doctor can tell us what plagues her—

At those words, Yeseo sucked in a hitched breath.

Ever astute to his every move, Cédric had noticed this—but all the Angel sent in reply to his inquisitive gaze was a small, sedate smile.

"Everything will be alright," Yeseo murmured soothingly as he supported Duke Sarnez by the hands he was bowing his head against.

In a blink of an eye, Sadie was back in his father's arms, carried down the hall and assured with caresses through his hair as servants worriedly trailed behind them.

Everything will be alright.

For a reason unbeknown to him, Cédric wasn't at all sure whom that sentiment could be directed at.

The Sarnez estate was, predictably, in a solemn flurry.

Duke Sarnez was nearly biting off the fingernail of his thumb, and Yeseo had to constantly reassure the man to ensure he wouldn't dig deep enough to knick his own skin between shattering teeth.

And as a reflection of their master, the servants of the duchy were no better. Maids walked around in an almost perpetual, fretting gloom—it seemed as if the most frantic hours of their worry had long fizzled out, and they had now all resigned to quiet hopes that whatever had plagued their young miss would soon pass. Light seemed to flutter in their gazes once they saw Yeseo pass, however, tears of relief and muttered prayers being hushed around at the mere sight of his purple eyes and distinct robes.

Upon arriving at the young lady's room, Cédric had to remember that the only daughter of Duke Sarnez was a young woman who had just recently entered adulthood—only six and ten years of age, and yet had fallen ill just before she could even have her debut into society. Upon entering the manor, it was clear to see that there had already been preparations at hand for a grand celebration—and yet all of it was halted due to the sudden ailment that plagued the young miss.

Christelle de Sarnez laid there on her bed, not at all visibly ill; skin pale but not pallid, with a slight flush to her cheeks that reflected her pink hair.

She didn't look sick, Cédric thought. Merely peacefully asleep.

By her side, a woman with pale green hair sat, tearful as she watched over her sleeping daughter. The duchess, Madame Isabelle de Sarnez was known to be reclusive in society, introverted and quiet, and so with her lack of presence throughout society, it came as no surprise that rumours of her character began spreading around. On one such occasion, Cédric had even heard word going about of her being a cruel stepmother to her only daughter—but being here now, witnessing this woman and all her sincere and dishevelled grief, Cédric knew he couldn't trust rumours, especially after what happened with Belliard's publications.

As always, his hyung took everything in stride. It always seemed as if Yeseo thrived in environments in need of reassurance, and with every word that spilled from his soft lips, he brought comfort and tears to both Duke and Duchess Sarnez. His lithe hand rubbed over the madame's back, and his smile was steady as he conversed with the duke.

All will be well, he said, and Cédric was familiar with such words—oh so familiar.

The ducal couple followed each and every one of Yeseo's orders, from arranging pillows to clearing the room, to sending servants out when they got too fussy and began crowding the entrance to their young lady's room, hopeful and curious if they were going to witness a miracle.

The most significant of his requests, however, came when he asked the Duke to bring in the Sarnez heirloom—the Blessing for the Azure Ocean, one of the four divine artifacts of the Empire. It was a bidding that made the Duke's eyes widen with slight shock; after all, their family had been charged with protecting such a precious item for centuries—but it was finally Madame Sarnez who took action, wiping her tears to swiftly order their head butler to fetch the divine artifact in the end.

"Sadie," Yeseo murmured, reaching out to him once the Duke and Duchess took to the sidelines. The Blessing of the Azure Ocean shone a faint blue in his hold, glowing in tandem with his purple eyes, almost as if resonating their celestial energies, a greeting from one divine being to another.

Naturally, Cédric gravitated perpetually around Yeseo, and his chin turned to face the call without any more prompting needed. Meeting purple eyes that he had so grown to adore, Cédric needn't even utter a single word for Yeseo to know he was listening. And as their fingers reached out to meet each other, intertwining at the middle, Cédric had a strange feeling, deep down, that something important was about to happen, buzzing in his chest and tingling the cracks of his soul.

"I will need your help for this," Yeseo said, a faint smile on his face. "Will you trust me?"

Not even a beat needed to be passed.

Always, Cédric said, because of all the universal truths in life, his trust in Yeseo was indisputable. The angel could hold his soul in the palm of his hands and crush it should he desire, and Cédric would accept his fate with ease knowing that, at the very least, his vessel had been destroyed by the same gentle touch he had held for nearly ten years. Death in such a way would have been to Cédric a warm embrace; a descent into a kind, eternal dream.

A pale hand reached up to tenderly caress his face, fingers trailing across his chin before both palms moved to finally cup his cheeks. The warmth of the angel's hands brought a wave of comfort through Cédric's flame of a soul, and it was almost on instinct that he followed their movements, lowering his head alongside the momentum of Yeseo's gentle pull.

Dark hair pushed to the side, he felt a pair of soft lips press against his forehead, and soon enough, Cédric's eyes fluttered shut, asleep.

Hello, came a young woman's voice.

Hello, Cédric wordlessly said back.

Before them stretched out a wide sea, blue and infinite towards the horizon. The moon was full and wide before them, hanging overhead as it peered down serenely at their sprawled forms, sat beside each other on a golden beach.

The waves washed over them, tickling their legs before retracting, a never-ending cycle of hellos and goodbyes, each one reaching higher than the last.

They sat together in silence for a long, long time, until the sea eventually reached their necks, retracting once more only to come back and finally submerge them whole—head under water and clogging their ears, the push and pull of waves now silently at rest, tides tugging at their hair and clothes. Neither of them panicked, however, staring at the disappearing horizon that only seemed to welcome them, and it seemed that they could sit there for eternity, embraced by these sunken waves.

It's lonely, the young woman said, bubbles escaping her drowning throat in calm, burning coughs. I am lonely.

There was nothing that Cédric could find in himself to reply. Air escaped him with each of his breaths, water spilling into him with every intake until it seeped into the extremities of his veins.

The water was cold and freezing, and yet their blood remained hot.

Underwater, the moon appeared large. It pooled above them like a single eye, watching, observing… before it creased into a sliver of a crescent as if imitating a gentle smile.

Golden sand fluttered about them, soft and warm,

And Cédric woke up.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” came a familiar gentle voice.

Cracking open his once-sealed lids, Cédric immediately found amethyst eyes, watchful and ever a sentinel for him, just as he was for Yeseo.

Looking around, Cédric quickly noticed he was lying in a bed. It was with dull exasperation that he then realized he had been laid right next to the young Sarnez lady on opposite sides of the large mattress, no doubt settled there because—while he was a man—there wasn't any way they could simply allow the Empire’s only heir to sleep on a chair or elsewhere uncomfortable.

And between their prone bodies, the Blessing of the Azure Ocean was separating them, the blue gem of the artifact that had once been faintly glowing in response to Yeseo's etheric pull, now reduced to what seemed to be a mere beautiful necklace.

"How do you feel?"

Yeseo's clear voice brought his attention back.

"... Like I had just been forced asleep," he grumbled.

"I made sure it was a good sleep." Purple eyes crinkled softly with mirth. Brushing his hair, his voice took on its usual tender note. "You said you trusted me."

And I do, Cédric swore, reaching out to take Yeseo's hands in his, warm and familiar, a touch that Cédric would covet for the rest of their lives if the other permitted it. Their fingers never separated, even as Young Lady Christelle began to stir, blinking awake before snapping open to the side, staring at them with wide blue eyes—bright and vivid, as the Blessing of the Azure Ocean had once been.

Her gaze was abundant with confusion, only shifting to a more quizzical look upon settling on Yeseo.

《 Good morning, 》 he had said in his foreign tongue, 《 Can you understand me? 》 and Christelle de Sarnez didn't appear to comprehend his exact words, but familiarity shone in her gaze and she relaxed the more he spoke, muttering words Cédric himself hadn't been able to learn despite the near twenty years he had known the angel.

"It is an honour to finally meet you, Ga-in-ssi," he said, back in the Riestan tongue, and with that, the young girl, only sixteen years of age, blinked.

On what used to be a youthful face now took on a tired, confused maturity befitting a woman who—in another world—should have been well into adulthood. Twenty-eight-year-old Ham Ga-in laid in Christelle de Sarnez's bed, dream-like memories of a girl she was yet wasn't swimming in her head, tides and waves of two separate-yet-same beings washing over each other until both seas and oceans finally mixed into one.

In a blink of an eye, Duke and Duchess Sarnez woke up from where they had been slumped against each other on the divan, and with relieved cries, they scrambled over to their daughter's side. Stray hands caressed her pink hair before bringing her into their arms, tears dripping onto pristine sheets all the while, and Christelle-yet-not-Christelle took it all in dazed stride before finally, finally, a stray tear rolled down her cheek and she settled into their embrace.

Cédric swung his legs over the opposite side of the bed, averting his gaze from the family of three's private moment, before eventually meeting Yeseo's gaze.

What did you do? he wanted to ask, drawing up a flicker of his ether to flutter above his hand.

The cracks of his soul, once a bowl that could only be artificially filled by the never-ending flow of Yeseo's ether, were now sealed solid with ice—gold and sapphire lining the crevices to make it whole.

Beneath Yeseo's adoring, silent gaze, Cédric felt complete.

Even as Simon and Isabelle de Sarnez profusely thanked them from the entrance to their home, Cédric's awed questions remained. Even on the carriage ride back to the Imperial Palace—having set off once Yeseo and Christelle had exchanged quiet words—those questions continued swimming in Cédric's mind, but he couldn't ask, no, not yet, head still reeling with the sensation of a cold ocean filling his seams, and golden hands pulling him together.

And upon their return, before the Empress where they were slated to report their mission, Yeseo said this:

"By the grace of Her Lord and the blessings she has bestowed upon this land, your son, Imperial Prince Cédric Riester, has made a full recovery."

This should have been the moment where Yeseo straightened from his foreign-style bow, and yet while the young man had regained his full height, he seemed to only further incline his head, soft brown hair brushing over his adored eyes.

"My divine task here has now been completed," he said in a quiet, yet firm voice. A smile was on his face and yet Cédric could find no real trace of joy. "And thus I am due to return home."

"—What?"

The exclamation escaped Cédric quicker than it took for the word to even cross into his mind. Stunned confusion welled up within him all at once, rage and betrayal soon bubbling up in the ether of a vessel that no longer ran the risk of breaking or self-destructing. He would have burnt his mother's entire office down, had it not been for his self-restraint and the single thread holding his reason together.

Sparks of flames coated his hands, burning the gloves that his father had made him in singes of smoke. Yet in the face of such evident fury, Yeseo gave no reaction other than the small crinkle of his brow and the tremble of his lips. But his gaze, once ever-so conceding to his every whim, showed no trace of leniency; in its place of familiar warmth laid only firm resolution. No longer was there the gentle hyung that entertained his every whim—in his place stood only a cursed man, red-rimmed in the eye and refusing to even look him in the face.

"What do you mean? You're going to leave?"

Brown hair obscured the mirrors of the angel's soul, allowing for not a single hint of emotion to shine through.

"Answer me!" Cédric demanded, stepping forward to reach his grip around that thin wrist.

Yeseo was pliant in his hold, unresistant to his strength. From the corner of his eye, Cédric could see his parents exchange glances, and through muffled ears, he swore his godmother had said something with carefully placating hands, but in this moment alone all he could focus on was the falsely calm figure of the man before him—the one who promised he would not ever leave his side.

"You gave me your name," Cédric all but growled, desperate for the man he held in the highest regard to look him in the eye. "You gave me your name so that you would not be taken away. You dare go back on a promise that you—!"

Finally, Yeseo spoke up.

"I am not being taken away, am I?" he murmured, voice so small Cédric was barely able to hear it, what with their close proximity to one another, practically pulled chest to chest from his unshakable grip. "I am choosing to leave on my own terms. Your Highness, I beg you to understand, I have a family—"

Cédric gritted his teeth, desperation clawing at his burning seams. "Am I not your family as well?"

"Lady Christelle de Sarnez will be your family," Yeseo interrupted firmly, attempting to pull his wrist away yet only managing to barely shake Cédric's hand away. "Before arriving here, I have consulted with the Three Fates; your souls are intertwined in the threads of life, and it is your synergy with her that allowed for your vessel to finally be mended. My prince, your vessel does not need me anymore—!"

"But I need you."

The tone of finality was the harshest Cédric had ever used in his life. The young man who used to always follow Yeseo by the hem of his robes while adoringly swinging their joined hands, was now gripping firmly at his slender shoulders, forcing their eyes to meet at a distance where their breaths could intermingle. The flames of his eyes, once so gentle, now raged like forest fires reaching to consume him whole—Yeseo felt, for a deep moment, that he was going to be burnt alive.

"Mother was right," Cédric glowered, memories of his childhood flooding back to the present, now finally understood. "Perhaps I shall lock you up."

The absurdity of those words was enough to make Yeseo lose grip on his wings, feathers jumping from the open back of his robes with rigidly pointed feathers. In his fluster, he forgot he was supposed to be resisting this, stumbling forward by the wrist that Cédric was dragging him by, so firm it would have bruised had the other not had the decency to treat him with that slightest bit of kindness.

Looking over his shoulder he could only meet the pitying gazes of the three adults left in the Empress' office. With a face that was both burning yet pale, Yeseo planted his feet in an attempt to raise their help, only for Cédric to spin him around to avoid their sight. Yelping, Yeseo scrambled for a hold upon feeling his feet leave the ground, lifted into the strong arms of the Imperial Prince who was surely on the brink of losing his mind.

"Wh-What do you mean by lock up..!" Yeseo protested, gripping at the fabric over Cédric's broad shoulders. "My prince, wait—! Cédric—!!"

"I have waited long enough," Cédric scoffed, ignoring the inquiring pleas of the passing servants in the hall. Even when David had appeared, he was merely ignored, the attendant guiltily avoiding Yeseo's gaze as he pleaded for some amount of help.

"Mister David—!!" Yeseo hissed as the attendant finally decided he couldn't take it anymore, ducking behind one of the open rooms to hide like the traitor that he was. With a huff, Yeseo tightly squeezed his eyes together, before finally allowing all the tension to escape him with a grunted, defeated sigh.

Cédric's body was a ball of warmth.

Through the layers of his clothes, it felt as if he was lying next to a fireplace, and perhaps through some sort of habit, Yeseo couldn't find it in himself to tear away from this dear friend and companion of almost a decade. And as if having sensed his newfound lack of protest, the grip Cédric had on him loosened, just enough, as he readjusted his hold in a way that felt more comfortable for the both of them in a mimicry of his usual gentleness.

In silence, they walked down the halls of Sénaire Palace on Cédric's swift feet, marching with a purpose. They were nearing one of the guestrooms that were typically used by the Imperial Family should they ever feel tired during a day's work—not frequented much, but one that Sadie and Yeseo had snuck into on occasion during the earlier years of their comradery.

"... Are you mad at me?" Yeseo finally muttered, head resting near the junction of Cédric's neck. His wings trailed behind them, wilted and compliant and anxious, but for a second Cédric felt as if the man in his arms could fly away at once, should he truly desire it, and he secured his hold around the angel once more.

But no matter how much frustration and betrayal he felt at the idea of this more precious being leaving… One of the universal truths in life was that Cédric, under no circumstances, would ever truly hate Yeseo, only that the other could leave him behind without ever looking back. Because while Yeseo was a necessary aspect of Cédric's life, Yeseo was perfectly able to exist had he never met weak, frail little Sadie.

"... I'm not," Cédric finally said, and he doubted not that the angel was listening to the steady beat of his heart to determine his sincerity, even through all of his layers. It was thundering, yet steady—Yeseo could probably single out the sound amidst the busiest street market if he wished, and Cédric would do the very same.

"I… I was telling the truth, you know... when I said you were destined for greatness and a long, happy life."

"Have I not said that happiness will only be there if you are? Sir Angel, I beseech you must understand this—Fate has no sway on who will make me happy, for there was only ever you."

"—Oh, how can you be so stubborn?" Yeseo lamented, closing his eyes as if in exasperation, but if Cédric looked down, he swore he could see hints of a helpless, sardonic little smile beginning to fit itself on his crumpled face. The wings that were quivering ever so faintly in anxiety had now settled down, curling ever so slightly behind them as if to embrace Cédric in return.

Closing the door behind them, the silence of the room could have swallowed them whole. Cédric could hear the subtle breath of the man in his hold, and in turn, Yeseo felt as if the prince's heart was hammering near his ear, steady and loud, more words than could ever be spoken.

Gently, Cédric settled Yeseo onto the edge of the bed. It felt oddly intimate, a sensation Yeseo knew not what to make of, and his eyes darted awkwardly around the room as the prince kneeled before him, large hands tenderly gripping his own. The touch burned—he swore scars could have been left with the force of this sudden intensity, and Yeseo feared the strength that would be present in Cédric's gaze should he finally gather up the courage to meet the other's eye.

"Jung Yeseo," Cédric groused in the scarce space between them, and the force of his given title sent lighting through Yeseo veins. "Do not leave."

The sound of his entire self on the other's tongue sent blood rushing through his heart, pulse stuttering madly.

"My task here is done. You… don't need me."

"Even with a healed vessel, who else's ether will be enough to plenish it should it be drained? You are the only one."

Mouth failing to sound out a retort, it was an assertion Yeseo could not refute even if he tried. For a decade he had been letting his ether pool around Imperial grounds, saturating every field and garden with his presence so that Cédric could be at ease wherever he went. Even if they were parted, Yeseo would always be by him, soothing his soul and its never-ending drop. But if Yeseo left now, the task to fill that now mended bowl would still take a dozen priests—none who had ether as abundant or pure as him.

And Cédric was spoiled.

Never would he settle for less—for anyone other than Yeseo. For years he had been accustomed to the gentleness of Yeseo's ether, perpetually curling around his soul, slotting against the cracks that had riddled his vessel since birth as a semblance of comfort.

"Stay," Cédric pleaded, uncharacteristically desperate. His large hand cupped the side of Yeseo's face, caressing the soft cheekbone with a gloved thumb, and that alone, right there in then, was enough to make Yeseo's entire resolve crumble. "Should you be rid of ether at this very moment, I would still ask you the same. Condemnation to a life of divine thirst would be stated only with your mere presence—can you not yet understand?"

So when Cédric leaned forward to press him against the bed, all Yeseo could do was accept him with an open, helpless embrace.

Face burning, the kiss couldn't have been any more clumsy. In their twenties, neither of them had ever kissed, and the most intimate they've ever been was with each other—in hindsight, Yeseo perhaps should have anticipated this. The only person he had ever held hands with was Cédric as innocent kids, and so his first kiss was also taken by Cédric, now less so innocent, but in its own right terribly pure in intent and passion.

Yeseo felt he was being eaten whole; bitten and chewed, devoured in his entirety. Cédric was warm, too warm, and when the prince's tongue dove into his mouth Yeseo released a startled whine before that, too, got swallowed up by the greedy being that was Cédric Riester.

Fire lit up beneath each of Cédric's touches, his large palms resting around Yeseo's face, his neck, shoulders and waist, before they finally lowered enough to slide behind Yeseo's back. Convenient that it was for his clothing to always be made bare-backed, his specially-tailored wardrobe now found another purpose other than accessibility for his wings; hands rapidly finding his skin, Cédric easily undid the buttons behind the collared strip that held everything together, soon revealing the expanse of Yeseo's torso.

Breaking from their kiss, it was with blown pupils that Cédric stared in satisfaction as Yeseo took in deep breaths, chest heaving from the overbearing ferocity of their kiss. As a boy he had once thought Yeseo to be the prettiest being alive; as a man, he now wished Yeseo hadn't been so pretty, because as they grew that very beauty slowly began driving Cédric wild with want, and he found he would even be convinced to kill should anyone else bear witness to such a precious sight.

Unable to bear the thought, he swooped back down to capture his angel into a deep kiss, brushing their torsos together as they tangled further into the sheets. Taking his place between Yeseo's legs, Cédric hoped in a fleeting thought they could merge—skin to skin and heart to heart and soul to soul, united in every possible metaphysical way so that the other couldn't ever even think to separate. Call him selfish, but Cédric prayed that the angel would never leave him, be it for the divine family he had left nearly a decade ago, or for any other reason Cédric would not hesitate to disregard as irrelevant.

Tasting Yeseo's skin beneath his tongue, Cédric bit and nipped at every inch of skin he could find. The pale neck he had frequently found himself staring at throughout the years was now finally within his reach, and it made immeasurable thirst swell up within him, burning at the pit of his stomach, to see the jewellery that Cédric had gifted him dangling from his ears like precious stars. Ambrosia was finally on his tongue, and a delectable feast Yeseo was, huffing and whining whenever Cédric brushed against his sensitive skin, his back arching as stray hands tickled the base of his now-shuddering wings.

Cédric never knew the divine limbs could be so lewd. Was Yeseo not an angel meant to mend his soul back on the path of salvation? In this moment he felt he could have given his entire vessel to this man, had he been an incubus sent to condemn him to damnation.

"Don't touch—" Yeseo whined, trembling in Cédric's hold as he brushed against the juncture of his wings. The white wings were quivering against the bedsheets, fluttering erratically as if wanting to fly away, but Cédric took both of Yeseo's wrists to pin him down, if only so that he could freely have his way with him without allowing the other to escape in a heap of feathers.

Cédric massaged the feathered joints, rubbing and squeezing everywhere he could touch, dragging his fingers both with the pads of his flesh and the tips of his nails. He had loved Yeseo's wings, regarded them with a sense of awe and reverence ever since he was a boy—they were symbols of comfort and protection, diligent covers from the sun and wind. Oftentimes Cédric had the urge to bury himself into them, to take Yeseo into his arms and use the man as a blanket so that he could have the angel in more ways than just his dreams.

I won't let anyone eat you, Sadie had once told the angel. What a vile hypocrite he was, to be standing here after all these years, pinning down such an esteemed being and wishing nothing more than to devour him whole—flesh, blood, spirit and all. These wings that might one day fly Yeseo away back to the Interstellar from whence he came—a constant symbol of comfort, yes, but of anxiety as well, knowing that with a single strong beat, Yeseo could so easily escape from his grip should he choose to, never to be seen.

He wanted to tear those wings apart with his teeth. To lap at the bases with his tongue and mark them so deeply they would tear, only to soothe them with filthy pecks and kisses. But the wings were an essential part of Yeseo, and Cédric could only guiltily keep these savage urges to himself, brushing the angel's shoulder blades with torturous touches—the next best thing. A feast he could never truly eat, a meal he could only lay his lips upon but nothing more. A pretty little compromise, rewarded with strangled gasps and shaky squeals, jerked twitches wracking Yeseo's form the more he played with the feathered joints closest to his back.

"Ah, ah—! My prince! My pr—hhck..!? Cédric!! It- it feels weird—!"

"It feels good," Cédric gruffed hotly into Yeseo's flushed ear, his mouth pressed against the shell, almost smug with his certainty. As if to prove a point, he wrapped his hand fully around one of the bases of the angel's wings and tugged, running a thumb right over where it dipped into Yeseo's back. The moan that it pulled sent a boiling heat through Cédric's head, leaving him to brace himself by crashing his lips into Yeseo's own, lapping up each debauched sob with relentless touches and kisses.

So beautiful. So pretty. Cédric was dying for more. He wanted to make Yeseo cry, to see pretty beads of tears pool over his eyes and drip from his lashes. He never bore any real hatred for being a Holy Knight; in fact, he had once thanked the Lord profusely for appointing him the privilege to stand guard by Her incarnations side. But in this moment alone, he abhored the savage thirst that was innate to Holy Knights, perpetually, eternally in dire yearning for the very essence that priests consisted of. Yeseo was everything to Cédric, and the thought killed him knowing that there was no possible way that he could ever satisfy this never-ending craving, so violent and cruel it almost scared him with its intensity.

The tantalizing brush of Yeseo's writhing feathers against his bare skin left him with a growing desire to flip the man around and cruelly pin him down by his neck. Cédric was intimately familiar with the difference of their sizes, and after years of innocently holding hands, he had grown accustomed to the way his palms would overtake the angel's own, calloused fingers against slender digits. The image was vividly painted in his head—the pale expanse of Yeseo's thin neck, firmly pressed beneath Cédric's large palm, gripped between thick fingers. He would squirm and writhe in a clumsy effort to escape, but would ultimately be unable to push Cédric off, not when he'd dip his head to press kisses across fine shoulder blades, biting at the base of those ivory wings and tugging at them until Yeseo moaned, tearful and needy. Cédric could enter him, in that position—face down and smothered against tightly gripped bedsheets, with the small of his back prettily arched upward like an offering, taking him in full and squeezing tightly with every tug at his wings, rocked with each pull.

The thought made Cédric feverish. He wanted to defile the angel with his entire soul, to soil and mark this divine being in a way that would make the Lord strike him down for committing such blasphemy against Her beloved child. Was there any possibility that She'd be watching, right this very moment? The way a mere mortal was coveting a divine child of God? Would She rage thunderstorms and hurricanes in a fit of anger for how a Holy Knight was treating Her angel in such an insulting, carnal way?

In the face of such possible divine retribution, Cédric could only snarl. He had been despised by the Lord once before—why should he care if he slighted Her any further? Deep down, however, he couldn't help but think this was within his rights. What else was this, if not a form of worship? The most sincere and arduous trial and proof of self-restraint, to fuck such a precious being and not completely lose his mind in the process.

Biting at Yeseo's neck and running his fingers through those sensitive wings, Cédric groaned deeply, revelling in every hitch and stiffled breath—the perfect choir hymn to accompany his most sincere act of devotion.

Embarrassment was a beautiful colour on the angel's face, features contorting with unshed tears and muffled sounds; the restraint irked Cédric, so he quickly pried open those pretty lips with his own, swallowing each high sound down his throat where they belonged. The fronts of their pants were tented and hot as they rubbed against each other, and Cédric felt Yeseo's breathing quicken at that realization.

Struck with a bout of cruel mischief, he pressed a soft kiss against the side of Yeseo's flushed face before trailing down, nipping on reddening skin as he went, before finally releasing Yeseo's hardened length with a tug at his pants with his teeth.

Yeseo looked as if he was going to faint upon feeling Cédric's mouth wrap around him. He squeaked and moaned, trembling hands gripping at dark hair, and he squirmed so much that Cédric had to hold him down by the waist. He took his time until the angel began to weep, overstimulated with every nerve set ablaze—he would have continued the pleasurable torture, had Yeseo's crying not been too pitiful and adorable to ignore.

"—Quick," Cédric smirked as he wiped his lips, leaning back up to kiss away at Yeseo's tears. In response, the angel could only glare in embarrassment, weak limbs trembling from the release. He wasn't given a long time to rest, however, because Cédric was still not satiated—might not ever be, truthfully—and his panting mouth could only succumb to its fate of being devoured by another once again.

It felt as if the prince wanted to eat him—mind fogging over, Yeseo almost found himself thinking he wouldn't mind it. Perhaps if Cédric really followed through with his threat, Yeseo would allow him to shackle him in chains, tied down to this mortal plane where he would remain by his prince's side.

But he'd deserve it, wouldn't he? For betraying this precious man's trust and breaking his heart, one that he knew to be fragile beneath all that muscle—for wanting to leave when Cédric had so clearly given him his heart and allowed Yeseo to carve himself into it.

Yeseo could see it clearly: a tall, secluded tower much like in one of Sadie's old fairytale books, where none could ever hope to reach—or perhaps in his own palace, in the comfort of his warm bedchamber, surrounded by familiar sights and objects he held affection for as an enticement to never leave. So fond of gifting him jewellery and seeing him in his best clothes, Cédric would probably opt to chain him down—not with iron, or any other common metals, no, that wasn’t good enough for the prince’s fine taste—but with gold and jewels to match his eyes, instead.

Would it wrap around his wrists? His ankles? Would Cédric give him a pretty collar to wrap around his neck, much like the handmade necklace he had given the boy at thirteen?

Yeseo would let him.

His little knight in shining armour—prince! Sadie would have protested—now a fearsome dragon.

Perhaps he'd let Cédric do whatever he pleased in retribution for his sins.

Dear Mother up in the Interstellar, Yeseo gasped, mind fuzzy and reeling, reaching up to wrap his arms behind Cédric's neck to pull him closer, where he breathed in the faint scent of the cologne Yeseo had gifted the prince for one of his many birthdays. I think I may have so terribly fallen.

Upon feeling this reciprocated enthusiasm, Cédric's kissing only grew all the more intense. Hand reaching behind him without separating their lips, Cédric soon threw off his belt and pants that should have long been discarded, freeing himself of the torment of clothes.

And to Yeseo's startle, the weight of Cédric's length was frankly intimidating. It was large and red, hardened from all their passion, and from where it rested over Yeseo's pelvis, he knew just from looking at it that it would reach deep inside of him even if the full length wasn't wholly taken.

The thought made his face burn, and Cédric preened knowingly at his reaction, devious and annoyingly pleased, looking like a prideful little fox as he proceeded to smother Yeseo with all due punishing adoration. For a second, Yeseo had to wonder who was responsible for the Imperial prince's sex education, because Cédric seemed to know plenty of what he was doing, from the use of the oil in the drawers (why that had been there in the first place, in one of the Empress Palace's spare rooms, Yeseo didn't want to know) to the way his fingers purposefully moved and curled, before finally pressing against a curious spot inside Yeseo that gradually sent his eyes flying wide at the tingling build-up of sensation that buzzed beneath his flesh.

Writhing, Yeseo gasped and clung to Cédric's back as his insides were prodded at, digging his fingers into the skin of Cédric's back so harshly he might have left scratches.

"Breathe," Cédric instructed lowly after pressing another deep kiss against his lips, and soon enough Yeseo felt pressure against his rim, big and hot, slowly pressing into him before settling around the tip. It was odd, a sensation he had never thought he'd ever experience in his life—second only to the absolutely inappropriate handling of his wings—but it was good, so good, and Yeseo believed he might be losing his mind as the slow drag against his walls sent tingles up his spine, so strong it rendered the extremities of his limbs numb and quivering.

Gasping, Yeseo braced himself against Cédric's frame when he felt the other's pelvis connect, snug against his rear and completely slated inside him. He reached so deeply that Yeseo felt full. Teary-eyed from the stimulation, he tentatively looked down, hand brushing over his abdomen where he swore he could see a slight bump beneath his navel. He feared pressing against it but could not resist—eyes blown wide, he clenched around Cédric's length, pressing onto that bump and almost feeling it twitch.

With a curse roughly gritted beneath his breath, Cédric all but snarled as he leaned down to bury his face back into the crook of Yeseo's neck, pressing bruising kisses and biting even more at the pale skin, eyes pressed shut as he began rocking into Yeseo at a steady pace. Slow as it might have been at first, it still startled Yeseo, the torturous glide of push and pull sending sparks up his lower back and overriding his spine. Trembling, he let out a high sound, hands gripping at the back of Cédric's head, pleading and pleading to go faster, ah, faster—! until Cédric could no longer bear the agony of restraint and began quickening his pace to the point where Yeseo had to beg him to go slower.

Self-control now fully snapped, Cédric could barely hear the whimpers and sobs being pulled beneath him through the intensity of his own heartbeat, thundering in the blood of his ears. Yeseo's brown hair was soft against the side of his face, tantalizing as it tickled his cheek, and the angel's neck was a canvas Cédric was on a mission to fully taint. Not once in his life had he ever been drunk, but in this moment alone the sounds of Yeseo's cries and the feeling of the legs wrapping around his back—pulling him into that tight heat with encouraging vigour—was enough to send his head reeling, dizzy and cloudy with so much want and need.

"Hyung," Cédric groaned, lifting his head to bite at Yeseo's noisy mouth, licking up every moan and shuddering breath with hungry purpose. "Yeseo...! Love you- hyung—"

Stray feathers cast around them as three pairs of wings writhed, quivering at the call that Yeseo had grown so accustomed to throughout so many years. It had always been said with much affection, and for it to be used when their bodies were so intimately intertwined sent his mind into a flurry, drawing his body taunt like bowstrings, making Cédric groan roughly from the sudden squeeze. A low chuckle escaped him at this, before he continued as he was, murmuring low proclamations of love all while calling hyung, hyung, hyung. Paired with a hand sneaking back around to find his shoulder blades and tug at his wings, violent sparks swam across Yeseo's vision, shivers wracking through his spine and squeezing like a vice around Cédric's hammering length.

This dear friend he had known and been charged with for almost a decade was now kissing him fervently to the point of feeling faint, driving himself deep inside him as if hoping to never part. They've been by each other's side for so long, it made Yeseo breathless knowing that it took this very moment to realize just how much their relationship meant for Cédric—Cédric, who had always been trailing after him throughout all these years, who was his first companion in this world, his first dance, his one and only friend and confidant.

The weak soul he had once held in the palm of his hands every single night when the boy was asleep, glueing each piece and mending it together, was now strong and healthy and should no longer have any need for him—yet still required his presence as if essential for the mere act of breathing.

Tears dripping from amethyst eyes, Yeseo trailed his hands back to the sides of Cédric's head, caressing the side of the face of the young man he had grown to care about after so very long.

"I love you."

The shuddering thrust that resulted from Yeseo's breathless confession sent a burst of warmth through his chest. Salted tears dripped to join Yeseo's own soon after, as if having waited for such a moment for so long, and Cédric grunted harshly, burying himself all the more deeper into the welcoming heat of Yeseo's embrace. It was quick and desperate and almost painful with how much the pleasure overstimulated Yeseo's nerves after so many of his own releases, but Cédric had more stamina than he could ever dream of, and was determined to fuck all coherency out of the angel's head until all could be said was out of breath babbles of I love yous and too fast and more and more and more and more.

Finishing inside him, Cédric's harsh breaths mingled with Yeseo's own, only barely catching himself from flopping on top of the smaller man with the remaining strength of his arms. Streams of cum spilled from where they were still connected and the sight tempted him with the want to continue until he fully plugged Yeseo up, blood thrumming in his veins with the desire to completely establish himself inside Yeseo. He would look so pretty with his quivering legs dripping with white—it had always been the colour Yeseo looked best in, after all, and Cédric was dying at the mere fantasy of Yeseo overflowing with proof of their lovemaking. But the angel was tired, and Cédric was not a complete monster—no, not quite yet—but one day, perhaps, if he was given the go and Yeseo finally pushed his self-control over the edge of propriety. But for now, he merely wished to hug him, a simple desire but not so simple love—intense all the same and which consumed Cédric from head to toe.

Wrapping his arms around Yeseo, he carefully flipped their bodies so that the angel was lying on top of him, head placed just close enough to hear the calming pulse of his heartbeat. It was a steady rhythm, much like their regaining breaths, and the feeling of Yeseo's soft hair slowly snuggling into the skin of his chest made a swell of fondness swarm Cédric's being.

He had adored this person, been in awe of him since they first met, thankful and indebted, and had grown to love him for all the following years—and now Yeseo was finally in his arms, on the brink of dozing away, clinging to him in the embrace they had yet to break.

"I love you," Cédric said, the words as easy as breathing.

Tired as they were, lying chest to chest with Yeseo tucked into Cédric's arms, they revelled in the silence of such a tender proclamation before a small chuckle filled the air. Cracking open his tired eyes, Cédric looked down, only to find Yeseo already peering up at him with a soft, crinkled gaze.

"You silly man," he murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on Cédric's cheek. "If... If you wanted me to stay… you should have just told me that earlier."

"Would you have listened?" Cédric scoffed quietly, shifting his arms to tighten his hold, arms wrapping around the other's waist so that his hands could rest over the small of Yeseo's back, gently brushing through his feathers. "Would you have so easily discarded your consulted Fates to consider my feelings?"

Yeseo didn't quite pout, but it was a near thing.

"I… am not that dumb."

"No, you are foolish," Cédric kissed the top of his head. "You are foolish and make me happy, so please—"

The embrace tightened, just the slightest bit.

"Stay?"

And oh, when had Yeseo ever been able to resist Cédric's honest pleas?

The prince's heartbeat was quickening beneath the angel's ear, betraying his calm visage, and it made a surge of fondness well up within Yeseo to see this man want something, so genuinely and so strongly, for perhaps the first time. On each of his birthdays, Cédric had never asked for much—a picnic or a stroll into the city, gifts and trinkets, dance lessons and a waltz in the garden… Yeseo had given Cédric as much as he could of himself and yet had forgotten to give the most important bit.

"My whole purpose for being here is you," Yeseo quietly said.

From the very night he had stepped into Yvelines' bell tower, summoned to aid a small child rejected by divine gaze, he had belonged to Cédric in all innate ways.

"If you wish me to stay, then I will stay, because I—"

(There were many, many universal truths in life.)

Amongst them, Yeseo's fondness for Cédric could not be discounted.

From the kiss they shared in this very bed as adults, to their first clumsy dance as teens, to the time they read fairy tales in the gardens as boys—even from up high in the Interstellar, overlooking the world lines, watching his Mother supervise the threads of fate and the stories that surrounded a single, peculiar universe, where a small child burned so brightly in a world that wished to snuff him out.

I adore you.

Ah, how embarrassing… Yeseo could not find it in himself to say the words aloud, not when his pulse was beating so quickly that it filled his ears.

But Cédric and Yeseo had known each other for nearly a decade, familiar with every thought and every action, and it was enough that Yeseo laid there in Cédric's arms, hearts beating in tandem, promising with their lips that they would remain by the other's side for as long as time.

Stay, a mended vessel says. You promised me this.

Where else shall I go, golden hands reply, when you are right here?

(Lord Mother up in the Interstellar… Forgive your unfilial son, but his task is not yet finished.)

Smiling against each other's lips, they tumbled into the sheets once more, unable to help themselves in the fruit of this years-long love.