Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What is this?” Aventurine has to stop himself from outright glaring at Jade. She smiles thinly at him. “Now, now, no need to be so upset. We were as surprised as you are now when we first got him.”

Aventurine turns his head back to look at the boy through the one-way mirror. He estimates the boy to be no older than eight, but with how malnourished he seems he could be older. “And he just turned up at the IPC’s doorstep?” he asks. Jade looks uncertainly at Aventurine for a moment. “Not per se…”

Jade clears her throat. “His father approached an IPC worker and handed him over.” Aventurine raises his eyebrow questioningly. “Okay, then where's the father?” Jade looks him directly in the eye. “He killed himself.” For a moment, Aventurine holds eye contact before breaking away to look at the boy.

“How can you be so sure the boy's an Avgin ?”

He could hear his voice wobble as he said the name of his dead, they were supposed to be dead , race. “Have you done a blood test yet or..?” Jade handed him a clipboard with the boy's files.

The first thing he noticed while reading through the files was the boy's name. An Avgin name.

‘Anastasius’

Resurrection .

Fate works in cruel ways . Aventurine thinks before letting out a tired sigh and going back to looking at the files, specifically the blood work.

Name: Anastasius

Age: 10

Sex: Male

The boy is small, too small for his age.

Blood type: AB-

Aventurine bites his lips, that's gonna be a problem . Out of all the blood types, he just had to have the rarest one. 

His eyes scanned all the kid's blood work. “Gods, his blood counts are terrible,” he whispers to himself and continues reading the files until he gets to the ancestry portion.

Species: Half Avgin

Aventurine gently taps his head with the clipboard. Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths, then stands up straight and looks back at Jade, who has been silently observing him.

“Why am I here?” he asks plainly, handing her back the clipboard. Jade smiles enigmatically as she takes the board. “I think we both know why you're here,” she says. Aventurine grits his teeth. “I don’t have time to take care of a child,” he replies tensely. “You might not, but your partner sure does,” she replies casually.

Aventurine freezes and swallows dryly. Of course, they know about his relationship with Veritas; he is a fool for thinking they could hide it. “Dr. Ratio is a very busy man. You can't possibly expect him to drop everything and raise a child he doesn't have any relation to. That's simply too absurd, even for the IPC!”

“Who says anything about the IPC asking?” She smiles malignantly at him. “From what I hear, the ever-famous Dr. Ratio is soon going on leave for a ‘research’ trip. And funnily enough, his research just so happens to be close to the planet where your new resident is. Isn’t that just convenient?”

Aventurine scoffs, “So what, you want me to go up to him and ask him to raise this mysterious child who happens to share the same blood as me? I thought it was confirmed that all Avigns were wiped out of existence.” He crosses his arms to hide how much they are shaking.

“The universe is far too big for anything to be truly gone, darling. You of all people should know this by now.” She walks up to him and fixes his collar. “Now be a good boy and go meet your new ward.” She pats his cheek in a ‘motherly’ manner.

Aventurine pulls away from her touch and stalks off to the entrance of the holding room where the kid is being held.

“Think of this as a blessing!” That is the last thing he hears her say before he closes the door of the holding room.

He rests his back against the holding room’s door and takes a few deep breaths to control his heart rate.

The kid looks at him skittishly, trying to make himself look smaller than he already is. For a long, painful minute, Aventurine can see himself in the kid's position—newly orphaned, hungry, scared, and alone. Aventurine clenches his fist before forcing himself to relax. He doesn’t want to scare the kid any more than he already is.

“Anastasius?” The kid flinches when he hears Aventurine call out his name. Aventurine quickly rephrases his sentence and says more gently, “Your name is Anastasius, right?” The boy nods but refuses to respond verbally. Aventurine smiles encouragingly at him. “My name is Aventurine, and I'm going to be your caretaker for the foreseeable future.”

The boy stares at him, confused. Can he even speak the galactical language? Aventurine bites his lip. “Can you understand me?” The boy opens his chapped lips and speaks. “A-a bit…” His voice is croaky, and he slurs his words. Aventurine hesitates for a moment before he opens his mouth and speaks in his mother’s tongue for the first time in what feels like forever. “My name is Aventurine, and I'm going to be your caretaker for the foreseeable future.”

The boy's eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to speak Avginan. “You can speak the same language as me!” the boy says excitedly. Aventurine feels himself softening at the kid's excitement.

“I’m an Avgin as well.”

“Really? I thought Papa and I were the only ones left!”

Aventurine’s smile strains.

“We’re probably the last of our kind, I’m afraid.” The boy frowns. “Oh.” He seems sad for a moment before brightening again. “That’s okay! As long as Papa and I aren’t alone anymore, it’s fine!”

They didn't tell him his father is dead , Aventurine realizes. He turns to look at the one-way mirror. He knows Jade is watching. They want me to tell him . He grits his teeth.

He takes a deep breath. “I'm afraid your Papa has gone far, far away, and he can't come back…” The kid's smile fades and he begins to look distressed. “Papa left without me?” Tears begin to form in his eyes. “No, Papa wouldn’t leave! He promised he’d stay and wouldn’t run away like Mama!” The kid starts bawling his eyes out.

Aventurine looks horrified. He doesn’t know what to say to help the poor kid calm down. Gods, please help me. Aventurine hesitantly approaches the kid. “I’m sure your Papa loves you very much, but unfortunately, he had to go.”

“I’m sure your Papa would still be here if he could.”

Lies.

The kid's father is a bloody coward, taking the easy way out and leaving his child alone to rot in this cruel world all by himself.

Chapter Text

It takes hours for everything to finally settle. The kid will be under his care, but the IPC will pay all of his expenses.

They gave the kid some plain clothes to change into after he showers. While the boy is showering, they give Aventurine a credit card to use only for the kid's expenses and other child-related matters. They also provided him with a list of foods the child shouldn’t eat because, apparently the kid has allergies!

Aventurine groans and closes his eyes, hoping to wake up and find that all this is a bad dream. When he opens his eyes again, he is still in the bland waiting room.

He sighs and rests the back of his head against the wall. All this happens in such a short amount of time that Aventurine hasn’t even told Veritas that they have suddenly become parents.

Aventurine swallows dryly as he stares at his phone. How does he even start the conversation? Hi Veritas, hope you're having a good last day at work. Guess what, we're parents now!?

Ding

Aventurine doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he sees that he has received a message from Veritas himself. He takes a moment to school his expression before unlocking his phone to see what Veritas has sent him.

Aventurine can feel his throat tighten. The message is so casual, but it feels painfully domestic.

Aventurine is a coward. He’s a coward who can’t even tell his own husband that they are now parents. They have just gotten married and are finally settling down, and now they are parents. 

While Aventurine’s thoughts spiral, the kid walks back into the room. Aventurine does not notice him until the boy taps his left arm lightly. Aventurine's eyes snap to him. “Oh, you're back.” The boy nods.

The boy looks cleaner, with a duffel bag filled with some generic clothes and hygiene products. “The shower was nice. I haven’t had a hot shower in a long time,” the boy says in a small voice. Aventurine nods at him. “Hot showers are the best.”

“Are we going now?” the boy asks curiously. “Yes, but we have to stop somewhere first.” Aventurine stands up and squares his shoulders. He holds out his hand for the boy to hold. The boy shyly reaches out and accepts his hand. Aventurine squeezes it encouragingly. “Let’s go.”

Aventurine grabs a cart and pushes it into the store. The boy, Anastasius, looks around curiously. “Where are we?” he asks, clinging closely to Aventurine. “We’re at a place called a grocery store.” The boy scrunches his face at the new word. “Gro-cary,” Anastasius sounds it out. “Grocery,” Aventurine repeats the word. “It’s a store where you can buy all sorts of things, like food.”

Anastasius shifts uncomfortably. “Can we afford it…?” he says in a quiet tone. Aventurine stops pushing the cart and looks down at him. Anastasius's big doe eyes look up at him. Aventurine smiles reassuringly at him and gently pats his mahogany hair. “We can afford it. Pick whatever you want and put it in the cart,” Aventurine tells him softly. He leads him through different aisles and answers any questions Anastasius asks about the different products.

“Loon Loops!” Aventurine grabs a big box of cereal with excitement. He shows it to Anastasius and shakes the box eagerly. “They're my favorite! I’m sure you’ll like it.” Aventurine’s excitement seems contagious because Anastasius lets out an excited giggle. “Loon Loops!” Anastasius cheers. Aventurine smiles softly at his excitement.

As they go down the list of groceries, the cart gets fuller and fuller. Anastasius is still hesitant about buying things for himself, so Aventurine makes a system for them.

“Duck toy or Fox toy?” He holds the owl toy in his left hand and the fox toy in his right. Anastasius' eyes appraise each toy thoroughly. “Duck!” Anastasius points at the owl.

“Duck PJ's or Bunny PJ's?”

“Duck!”

“Duck toothbrush or Wolf toothbrush?”

“Duck!!”

It quickly becomes apparent to Aventurine that Anastasius has taken a liking to all things duck-related. It gets to the point where he is comfortable dragging Aventurine towards anything duck-related and asking if he can have it. It warms Aventurine's heart that Anastasius is becoming more comfortable with the idea of spending money.

They are making progress. Well, at least Aventurine thinks they are making progress. Oh, how sorely mistaken he is. Picking out things is one thing; buying them is a whole different ballpark.

As Aventurine scans each item, Anastasius becomes more and more distressed as the price keeps going up. It gets to the point where the boy looks like he is on the verge of a panic attack. Aventurine stops scanning the items to try and calm Anastasius down.

“Anastasius, you need to breathe, buddy.” Aventurine calmly rubs his back. “It's going to be fine. I promise you if I couldn't afford it, I wouldn't have bought it.” Anastasius breathes slowly. Once he comes down from his attack, he looks genuinely drained. “Can I carry you?” Anastasius seems to think about it for a moment before slowly nodding his head.

Aventurine scoops him up in his arms. He positions him so he is sitting on his hips, with his other arm free. Anastasius rests his head against Aventurine's neck. He watches uncomfortably as Aventurine finishes scanning the items. 

Anastasius becomes confused when Aventurine takes out his card and buys the food. The amount of money spent flashes on the screen for a moment before a green check mark appears.

“Thank you for shopping at the Interstellar Market!”

As Aventurine drives his car out of the space cargo ship, he becomes more and more anxious as he gets closer to his house. He regrets not telling Veritas about Anastasius earlier, especially since he has already gotten so attached to the boy in such a short time frame.

Aventurine looks at the rearview mirror and sees that Anastasius has fallen into a deep slumber. The space cargo ride was long enough for him to fall asleep. It was also long enough for Aventurine to call Veritas and confess his sins. But he didn't because he is a coward.

It doesn't take long for Aventurine to pull up to the driveway of their new home. Their new, beautiful home that they just bought because they're still technically newlyweds.

Aventurine wants to rip the hair out of his skull. How the hell does he explain this? Veritas is already used to Aventurine's more eccentric behavior, but nothing could prepare him for this.

Aventurine takes a deep breath. Veritas loves me. He loves me and he's not going to up and leave me because I brought home a child. Sure, he'll be mad for a bit, but we'll eventually talk it out and come to an amicable solution like adults, because we're adults.

We're adults and now we have a child to look after!

“Ugh!” Aventurine's head thumps against the head of his car seat.

Ding

His head shoots up and he looks around quickly for his phone. When he finds it, he sees that Veritas has sent him another message.

Aventurine takes a deep breath. I can do this.

He gets out of the car and goes to the backseat to wake Anastasius up. “Anastasius, Anastasius buddy, you need to get up.” He gently shakes the boy awake. Anastasius slowly opens his eyes. He lets out a yawn and rubs his eyelid sleepily. “I know buddy, but we're home now.” Anastasius blinks sleepily at him before nodding his head and starting to exit the car. He subconsciously reaches out for Aventurine's hand.

Aventurine takes his hand and squeezes it reassuringly. He doesn't even know who he is reassuring. He closes the car and walks them to the front door. His hands tremble as he stands at the door.

Anastasius looks up at him confusedly. “Home?” Aventurine looked down at him and smiled. “Home.”

Aventurine pulls himself together and unlocks the door. “I'm home!” Anastasius looks confusedly at him when he switches languages. The smell of a fresh home-cooked meal is the first thing Aventurine notices when he walks into the house.

“I am in the kitchen!”

Aventurine turns to look at Anastasius. He kneels down beside him. “I'm going to introduce you to my husband. He doesn't know about you yet, and he can't speak our language, but he means well, okay.” Anastasius nods nervously. “It's fine, he's gonna love you.” He grabs one of Anastasius' hands and squeezes it reassuringly, something he seems to be doing a lot since he met Anastasius.

Aventurine stands up and leads him deeper into the house. The walls are a nice pale blue color, lined with pictures of different places Aventurine and Veritas have been to, whether together or separately.

Aventurine notices Anastasius admiring the pictures. He can't help but feel a sense of pride about it. All the pictures hold memories of different points in his and Veritas' life. They've been to so many places, yet they still find home within one another.

“Kakavasha, there you are.”

He doesn't seem to notice Anastasius yet because the boy is hiding behind Aventurine's legs. "Where are the groceries?" Veritas frowns. "You damn gambler, I swear if you got distracted whi—" Veritas cuts himself off when he sees the small child clinging to his husband.

His eyes quickly zone in on Anastasius' features and how similar they are to Aventurine's. Anastasius isn't a carbon copy of Aventurine, but if he dyed his mahogany hair blonde, he could definitely trick some people. Even their eyes are both the same intense, unnerving purple.

"Where did you find this child?" He turns his gaze away from Anastasius to look at Aventurine. He smiles thinly under his husband's questioning gaze. "The IPC gave him to me."

Veritas scrunches his face. “They entrusted you with a child?”

"Pretty much."

"Well, can you return him?" Anastasius clings tighter to Aventurine when he hears ‘return him.’

"My hands are kinda tied on this one." Aventurine chuckles at Veritas' bluntness.

Veritas lets out a frustrated huff. “This is a whole child, Kakavasha. They just gave us a child. A living, breathing child with their own autonomy! What are they thinking!? We are not prepared to raise a child!”

Aventurine and Anastasius watch as Veritas paces around the kitchen, muttering to himself.

It was at this moment Aventurine knew Anastasius was staying. He can't help but smile. Veritas turns to them and scowls. “Oh, wipe that smirk off your face.”

He huffs and turns to address Anastasius. “Your name?” Anastasius flinches at suddenly being addressed. Veritas frowns and softens his expression. “I did not intend to frighten you.”

“He can't understand the galactical language very well,” Aventurine explains. Veritas looks curiously at Anastasius. “Does he speak Avginan then?” Aventurine nods.

Anastasius anxiously tugs on Aventurine’s pants. Aventurine looks down at him. “Am I going back?” he asks in a small voice. “I didn't mean to cause you guys problems…” He looks down at his feet. “You're not going back, buddy.” Aventurine gently pats his head before turning his attention back to Veritas, who silently observes them.

“Did I offend him?” Veritas questions and Aventurine shakes his head. “He was asking if we were going to send him back,” Aventurine says. Veritas sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “It is evident to me that you both seem rather attached to each other. It would be cruel of me to request that you send him back.”

“So how are we gonna do this, Doc?”

“I suppose we coul—”

Beep beep beep

Veritas's attention snaps to the oven. “We will discuss this matter after dinner. In the meantime, you may have the boy assist you in setting the table.” Veritas quickly disappears into the kitchen.

“Food?” Aventurine nods his head. “We need to set the table first.” Anastasius looks curiously at him. “I've never set the table before.” Aventurine smiles at him and leads him to the dining room. “Don’t worry, I'll teach you!”

“So are we going to talk about it now?” Aventurine asks as Veritas sets down the plates of food. “We have a strict no talking about work during meal time policy.” Veritas takes his place at the seat in front of him, while Anastasius sits at the seat beside him. “This isn't technically just work-related.” Aventurine playfully teases and takes a sip of his wine.

“Thank you for the food, Mr. Aventurine's husband!” Aventurine chokes on his wine and lets out a strangled noise. Both Anastasius and Veritas look at him concernedly for very different reasons. “Are you quite alright?” Aventurine hammers at his chest for a bit before he regains his composure. He takes a swig of water.

"I'm fine, I just realized you guys don't know each other's names yet," Aventurine smiles at both of them. Veritas puts down his utensils and sits up straight, Anastasius seemingly unconsciously mimics Veritas' posture. "I suppose introductions are in order. I am Dr. Veritas Ratio, though you may simply call me Veritas.”

Anastasius looks a bit confused at some of the words Veritas says but seems to understand what is being asked of him. "Me Anastasius! Sir Veritis." Anastasius stumbles over the pronunciation of Veritas's name. "Veritas," he corrects. "It's spelled V-e-r-i-t-a-s, there is an 'a' after the 't'." Anastasius nods. "Veritas!”

“Five points.” Aventurine chuckles at their cute interactions. “Only five? How stingy, Doc~” Veritas rolls his eyes and picks up his utensils again. His expression turns serious. “How do we go about this?” Aventurine hums thoughtfully. “The IPC is already paying all his expenses.”

“As anticipated, but for what duration are we expected to k-, I mean, care for him?” Aventurine looks at Anastasius for a moment. “He might be the only family I have. We might not be directly related, but we come from the same roots.” Aventurine turns back to look Veritas directly in the eye. “I don't want the IPC to have full control over him. I want him to have some semblance of a childhood.” Veritas's eyes flash with a look of deep understanding.

“So, this is a long-term commitment then?” Aventurine looks at Anastasius again. The boy looks up at him. Purple meets purple, and Aventurine knows he'd do anything to keep this boy safe. “Yes. It's a permanent thing if I have anything to say about it.” Veritas smiles softly at him. 

“Alright then.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. They still have much to discuss, but for now, everything was fine.

But Aventurine feels like he's forgetting something.

“Hold on, where are the groceries?”

Ah, that.

Chapter Text

“And to devote myself instead to geography, history, ar-ariii….”

“Try sounding it out.”

“A-rith-matic.”

“The correct pronunciation is ‘arithmetic’, dear, but you were pretty close this time.”

Anastasius brightens at Veritas’ use of the pet name. “Restart the sentence.” Anastasius clears his throat and rereads the sentence, “and to devote myself instead to geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar.”

“Very good.”

For the past three months, every morning after breakfast, Veritas and Anastasius would sit in the sunroom and practice reading and writing. Veritas is pleasantly surprised by how fast Anastasius is progressing, considering his circumstances, but he is still behind the average kids his age.

The book they are reading is a rather old one, but it holds a special place in Veritas’ heart. ‘The Little Prince.’ It was Veritas' favorite book when he was younger. He'd read it a hundred times and never tired of it.

“What arithmetic mean?” Anastasius says curiously and looks up at Veritas. They are sitting, more like snuggling, side by side on the couch. Veritas scrunches his face and tries to think of a way to explain it to a child without confusing him too much.

“Arithmetic is working with numbers by adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing. It is like using math to solve number puzzles and count things.” Anastasius still looks confused by most of what Veritas is saying but easily accepts the answer. He looks back down at the well-loved book. “How come no one know what the boy draw?” Anastasius asks.

“How come no one ‘knows’ what the boy ‘drew’. Know should have an ‘s’ at the end of the sentence and it is ‘drew’ past tense not ‘draw’ present tense, say it again.” Anastasius frowned his brow before repeating the sentence properly.

“How come no one knows what the boy drew?” Veritas smiled at him before saying, “Could you tell what the boy originally drew?” Anastasius thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Everyone perceives things differently. While the boy may see a boa constrictor digesting an elephant, others see a plain hat.” Anastasius frowns. “But doesn't that cause problems?”

“I suppose, but it is precisely because of people's individuality and their differences that we get to experience and learn all sorts of extraordinary things. Everyone is special in their own way. And that is a beautiful thing, Anastasius. Never forget that.” Veritas says as he gently runs his fingers through Anastasius' hair. Anastasius in turn easily leans into Veritas' touch. 

They have come a long way these past few months.

The first month had been extremely hard, especially since Anastasius had been more comfortable with Aventurine because he could communicate with him, and they were, in Anastasius' eyes, a real family. But it had been harder for Anastasius to grow comfortable with Veritas, an outsider.

Admittedly, Veritas knew he could be pretty intimidating. He had, for lack of a better term, a resting bitch face. It usually worked in his favor. It made people think twice before approaching him casually, but it also had its downsides.

Mainly that Anastasius had been extremely skittish whenever he had been alone with Veritas. In the beginning, he could barely make it through their morning study sessions without looking close to tears whenever Veritas tried to correct his errors. When they were not having lessons, he would lock himself in his room and only come out for meals or whenever Aventurine was home.

It had honestly hurt Veritas' feelings. Realistically, he knew that Anastasius was healing and was not comfortable with other people in general, but it was uncomfortable living in the same house with someone who seemed to fear you.

But eventually, the tension had lessened the more time they had spent together. What officially brought them together was when Veritas was up extremely late working on some unfinished research and ran into Anastasius when he was trying to grab some water from the kitchen. Anastasius had been absolutely horrified when Veritas had caught him.

He started trembling and brought the small bag of chips and hugged it close to his chest, seemingly protecting it from Veritas. “That does not seem particularly fulfilling.” He opened the fridge and brought out some leftovers. He turned his back to Anastasius and turned on the stove. “Have a seat at the dining table.”

For a bit, Veritas did not hear anything, but eventually, he heard Anastasius pull back the dining table chair. He could not help but smile. He cleared his throat and reheated the leftovers. Once they were reheated, he grabbed two plates and plated the food. He took it to the dining table and placed one plate in front of Anastasius, then placed his own food on the opposite side of the table.

He noticed Anastasius still held the chips tightly to himself. He did not say anything about the chips and sat down quietly. Anastasius hesitantly placed the chips on the table before grabbing his utensils. He eyed Veritas for a moment, seemingly waiting to see what Veritas was going to do. Veritas brought his food to his mouth and ate it.

Anastasius turned his eyes back to his food. His stomach rumbled, and Veritas frowned. Even now, the boy was still getting used to eating bigger portions of food. He had barely been able to finish most of his meals. Was that why he came scavenging for more food? Veritas thought. He and Aventurine had been working on the boy’s diet, but it had been a painfully slow process because the boy could not eat too much food without puking it up. He broke out of his musing when he heard Anastasius' utensils scratch the plate.

The only sound that filled the room was the sound of eating. “If you are hungry, please do inform me; I am not a mind reader, after all,” he joked. Instead, Anastasius flinched at the joke. “Apologies, that joke was rather tactless.” Anastasius just nodded and continued to eat his food.

Once they were finished, Veritas started to clean up. “I wanna h-elp!” Veritas' eyes widened. Anastasius’ pronunciation was still off, and he stuttered, but it was getting better than when they had started their lessons. 

Veritas quickly schooled his expression. “Alright then.”

They quietly cleaned up the dining area.

“Th-ank you…” Veritas tilted his head. “Whatever for?” Anastasius fiddled with the hem of his pajamas. “I have not been good to you, but you no get mad…” Veritas put the plates away before he turned to face Anastasius. “While I will not lie to you and tell you that your behavior has not offended me,” Anastasius looked down at his feet, “I understand why you behave the way you do.”

Veritas gently grabbed his hands. “We are family now, Anastasius, and family is meant to support one another. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.” He squeezed Anastasius' hand. “But I no want to be problem…” Veritas smiled softly at him and kissed his forehead. “Banish such thoughts; you are not a burden to me or Aventurine.”

Anastasius flushed red and nodded meekly. “It is well past midnight now; you should get some rest now.”

“Good night, Veritas,” he said shyly and tried to hand him the bag of chips.

“Good night, Anastasius.” He handed it back.

Chapter Text

When Aventurine walks in, he can hear voices coming from the living room. "The house is quite small.” Aventurine lets out a sigh when he hears the woman's patronizing voice. "We bought it for that reason," he hears his husband respond.

"Of course," she replies, a hint of disdain in her tone, "but with your salary, darling, you could have easily acquired a residence ten times the size of this one.”

"I have no use for such a house." Aventurine hears the sound of the kettle going off, taking it as his cue to walk in. "I'm home!"

He walks into the living room, and the first thing that greets him is Martha sitting primly on the couch. "Oh, Aventurine dear," she smiles politely at him. "I was under the assumption that you were working today," she chirps pleasantly .

"Martha, it's nice to see you're doing well, and I simply couldn't pass up the opportunity to come greet you, so I left early today," Aventurine replies passive-aggressively.

“Oh, you need not do such things.”

“Oh, but I insist.”

He smiles sarcastically at her once more before turning his attention to his husband, who comes out of the kitchen holding an expensive-looking kettle. “Welcome home.” He places the kettle down gently and kisses his cheek. Aventurine can't help the genuine smile that slips onto his face at Veritas's casual affection. “I'm home,” he repeats in a gentler tone.

The touching scene is interrupted by Martha clearing her throat. Aventurine has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Veritas just smiles strainingly at him and goes to attend to his mother.

Aventurine slips out of the living room to change out of his work clothes and into something more formal than what he usually wears when he is home.

“Why was it necessary for me to discover your marital status by examining your personal files?”

“What justification do you have for examining my files?”

“I am your mother; that is a sufficient enough reason.”

Veritas is about to respond but bites his tongue when he notices Aventurine is back in the room. Aventurine raises a brow at him, and Veritas shakes his head and pats the spot on the couch next to him.

Aventurine happily takes his seat next to his husband, opposite Martha. “And may I inquire as to why I was not invited to the wedding?” she raises her voice to grab back their attention.

“You were not invited to the wedding simply because we decided to elope,” Veritas replies calmly.

She bites her lip. “Elope? Ismini, can you not hear yourself?” Veritas flinches at the use of that name. 

Aventurine glares daggers at her.

“Veritas.”

“Excuse me?”

“His name is Veritas.”

Martha appears stunned. “That is what I said.”

Aventurine shakes his head at her dismissal. “No, it isn't.”

She exhales sharply. “That is irrelevant. The point is the child whom I brought into this world, got married—no, eloped—without informing me. Do you know how I discovered this, Veritas ?” She says his name with a condescending tone.

Veritas shifts uncomfortably. Aventurine despises seeing him like this, looking so small under his mother's scornful gaze.

“I discovered my child’s marriage through mere rumors, of all things.”

Rumors?

Aventurine frowned. He knew their relationship at this point was an open secret, old news even, but he didn't think people were still actively gossiping about them. “Rumors?” Veritas voiced out Aventurine's thoughts.

“What rumors?”

Martha huffed and crossed her arms primly. “There have been some absurd speculations regarding the two of you adopting some IPC laboratory rat.”

Aventurine frowned his eyebrow, it wasn’t easy for rumors involving the IPC, especially one as classified as this, to get out to the general public. “And this is what they're saying? Word for word?” Martha eyes them suspiciously. “Why, pray tell, should it matter whether their words hold any truth?" Her question was met with nothing but silence. Martha let out a shaky exhale, “You adopted a child?”

“We didn’t have much of a choice if that makes you feel better.”

"I must confess, that does not, in fact, make me feel ‘better’."

“Well, she took that better than expected.” Aventurine chuckles as he helps Veritas clean up the living area. Veritas's eye twitches as he glares at him. “Kakavasha, she scolded us for 30 minutes before she demanded we introduce her to her grandchild.” Aventurine bit back a sigh.

Lunch was an honest mess. After Martha had ripped into them about how immature they were for getting eloped and adopting a child, she had done a full one-eighty and as she said ‘was fully prepared to step up and become the grandmother that child so rightfully deserved’. Aventurine rolls his eyes at the thought.

“It’s a good thing that Anastasius had his appointment with the IPC today.”

And that in itself was a whole other can of worms.

It had been a part of the agreement that Aventurine didn’t really like, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Once a month they take Anastasius to the IPC’s headquarters for ‘check-ups’ as they like to call it. Aventurine didn't know what happened during those check-ups and both the IPC and Anastasius refuse to tell him. 

“Speaking of Anastasius, should you not be going to pick him up?”

“He doesn't get out till 2.”

Veritas looks at him confusedly, “Kakavasha, it is 1:55.” Aventurine blinks at him.

“Well, shit.”

Veritas let out a long-suffering sigh. Completely done with his husband's shenanigans.“Well, you best be off then.”

Aventurine kisses his cheek before he rushes out of the house.

Chapter Text

Patient #213 watches as the woman in a white coat draws blood from him. “You’re going to save a lot of people, #213.” This is his least favorite part; he always feels so light-headed afterward. He squeezes his eyes shut, the white lights in the room are giving him a headache. The feeling of more and more of his blood being sucked out of him, left him feeling faint and weak.

Knock knock

Patient #213 slowly blinks his eyes open at the sound of knocking. 

“Come in.” 

“Doctor É̸̛̱̈́̉̈͝s̴̰̈́̿͊͐̒ź̶̩̤̜͉̱͓̀̑̕͜e̶̖̾̇̚s̴͇̠̮̯̻͚̘͑, it’s 2 o'clock.”

The woman looks down at her watch, “Tsk, I guess we’ll have to call it quits then.” She sighs and removes the needle from Patient #213’s arm. “You remember the rules, don't you, boy?” She pats his head like one would a pet. 

Patient #213 nods his head.

Veritas closes his eyes and submerges himself in the water.

‘Why couldn’t you be normal?’

When has normality ever done him any favors? In fact, whenever he attempted to act ‘normal’ in the past, it had only brought him more suffering.

Why could she not see that?

​For as long as he can remember, he has never felt right in his own skin.​

All those hours he spent just standing in front of his mirror trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

Why, oh why could he never do what was expected of him?

Those miserably long nights he spent crying and praying to any aeon who would listen to fix him, to make his body feel right .

He finally resurfaces from the water once he starts feeling light-headed from the lack of oxygen.

Aventurine speed walks into the office area. He lets out a sigh when he notices that Anastasuius is already sitting in one of the chairs waiting for him. He can't help but frown when he notices how pale Anastasius looks.

The boy looks down at the floor and kicks his little legs; he has not yet noticed that Aventurine has entered the office.

“Sorry I am late, buddy.” Anastasius looks up from his feet to meet Aventurine’s eyes.

Purple meets purple, and Anastasius gets down from the chair and walks toward him.

“How are you feeling?” He doesn't answer and just raises his arms, asking to be picked up.

Aventurine has to bite back another frown as he picks him up. Anastasius was always so quiet after his checkups. “Are you ready to go home, bud?” Anastasius nods and nuzzles against Aventurine’s neck.

Anastasius remains non-verbal on the drive to the space cargo ship. Aventurine truly doesn't mind the silence; he is already used to people 'shutting down’ for lack of a better word. When Veritas has a hard time, he gets non-verbal as well, so he knows not to push.

That’s why he was surprised when he heard Anastusius speak up to ask a question, “Can we eat Loon Loops..?” 

Aventurine’s heart squeezes at how fragile his voice sounds. “Of course.”

The house was completely silent.

​Veritas is probably in his study testing the samples he has gotten from his latest research trip to some beach planet.​ Now that Aventurine thinks about it, it’s been a while since he has been to the beach. He can't help but look at Anastasius, who is dozing off in his arms. He shelves that idea for another day. Right now, though— “You think you can stomach anything right now, bud?”

Anastasius shakes his head and snuggles closer to him. “Alright then.” Aventurine carries him to his bedroom.

He gently sets the boy down on the bed. Anastasius whines and makes little grabby hands. Aventurine’s heart clenches. ​ “I know, buddy, but you need to change.​ Sleeping in outside clothes isn’t very fun.” Anastasius complies and gets changed into his duck onesie. Aventurine tucks him into bed and stays with him till he falls asleep. “Night bud.” He kissed his forehead and silently left the room.

Once Aventurine comes out of the room, Veritas still isn’t out of his study, which is weird because he should have heard Aventurine come in.​ Aventurine can feel the uncountable knot forming in his stomach. Maybe he should check up on Veritas; he is always angsty after his mother visits.

With his mind made up, he walks to Veritas’s study. When he gets there, he notices the lights are off, but just in case, he knocks on the door.

.

.

.

Nothing.

Aventurine frowns his brow; he opens the door and peeks into the office. ​Veritas is nowhere to be found.​ He bites his lip anxiously. Maybe he is in their bedroom? He leaves the office and checks their bedroom.

Nothing.

Aventurine checks his phone to see if at some point Veritas has called or texted that he is heading out.

Nothing.

Aventurine can feel himself starting to get frustrated. He is about to call Veritas when he notices the bathroom has sunlight coming out from under the door, meaning Veritas is probably taking a bath. Gods, Aventurine feels so dumb; of course, Veritas is taking a bath. But he can’t help but frown. It is noon on a weekday. ​Veritas only takes baths on weekends, either in the morning or at night, never at noon.

Knock, knock.

“Veritas, you in there?”

No reply, but he can hear the ripple of water.

“Are you alright in there?”

Nothing.

Aventurine can feel the knots tighten.

“I’m coming in.”

He twists the knob and walks into the bathroom.

The first thing he notices is how clear the mirrors are; just how long has Veritas been in the bath?

He turns to look at the bath, and there is his husband in full glory. ​Aventurine feels breathless; he looks like something out of a portrait.​ With how still he is, it’s like he’s a beautiful moment captured in time. Aventurine snapped out of his daze and walked toward his husband. 

No response.

Aventurine finally notices how glassy-eyed and dissociated Veritas is. He feels all his emotions settle and sits at the rim of the tub. He simply hums and softly runs his fingers through Veritas's wet hair. ​Eventually, Veritas leans into his touch, some life returning to his amethyst eyes.​ “Vasha?” Aventurine feels his heart squeeze at how fragile Veritas’s voice sounds. “Right here, love.” He kisses his forehead, just as he has done for Anastasius not even 15 minutes earlier.

“Mhm.” Veritas closes his eyes and rests his head against the side of Aventurine’s thigh. “How long have you been in here?” Veritas slowly blinks his eyes open and blankly looks at the water. Aventurine accepts the silence; he honestly hasn’t expected much of a response anyway. “How about we get you out of here?”

It is a slow process coaxing Veritas out of the shower, drying him off, and getting him changed into some comfortable clothes, but it is worth it in the end. ​It is all worth it for the small, grateful smile Veritas gives him before he snuggles against him and falls asleep.​

Chapter Text

“We need to take a vacation.” Veritas looks up from his book to stare at his husband confusedly. “Excuse me?” Aventurine huffs and sits up from the bed to look at Veritas. It has been a couple of days since Martha visited and done her damage; Aventurine can tell that Veritas is still distressed about whatever Martha had said to him to make him relapse the way he did. “I mean, Anastasius has never been to the beach before. ​I think it would be a good change of pace for him, plus he could meet other kids his age.”

It is a good way to take your mind off of things, wasn’t said; Aventurine knows Veritas has caught on to what he is hinting at. Veritas looks back down at his book and fidgets with the edge of the page. “I suppose it would be a good learning experience for him.” Aventurine bites back his grin and hums in agreement.

Anastasius looks down at the full cart, then looks back up at Veritas, who is talking with the woman at the cash machine register in a language Anastasius doesn’t know. ​The whole day has been odd so far.​ Veritas got him out of bed early and said they needed to go shopping. Anastasius didn’t know what for, but they had been at the interstellar market for what feels like forever. 

He glances at all the items piled in the cart, some familiar and others completely foreign to him. The sounds and sights of the bustling store are overpowering, with boards filled with so many dizzying words and bold colors trying to get his attention. Anastasius shifts his weight, feeling a mix of impatience and curiosity as he waits for Veritas to finish his conversation.

He looks up at Veritas again, noticing that he doesn't seem close to finishing his conversation with the woman. Anastasius’s eyes begin to wander over the sparkling boards around him, and he is shocked to see one of them dancing. He looks back at Veritas, confused, but he is still talking to the woman at the register. Anastasius puffs out his cheek in frustration and turns back towards the dancing board, trying to read it from a distance but unable to make out the words.

​Suddenly, a brilliant idea strikes him.​ He glances back at Veritas one more time before he sneakily runs off in the direction of the dancing board.

Veritas could feel his blood pressure accelerating. He had looked away from Anastasius for what could not have been longer than a couple of minutes and the boy was gone. He had been conversing with the woman at the register asking questions about a new product that he knew was coming into the store soon and that he needed for his current project, admittedly the conversation had shifted to more minute things. He had found out the woman was from the beach planet, Thalassa, they were planning to visit and was asking her what places, that were not tourist attractions, she thought were best to visit while they were there. She had been in the middle of telling him about a niche restaurant that she used to frequent when she noticed that Anastasius was gone.

They had both panicked and looked around for where Anastasius had wandered off to. It had taken them an embarrassingly long time before they realized they could use the PA system to call for him.

Veritas fidgets with his wedding band while the woman, Daphne, announces over the PA system, 

“Code Adam: Small mahogany-haired boy wearing a light blue shirt, named Anastasius Ratio. If you see him, please help bring him to register 19.”

It takes ten long minutes for someone to retrieve Anastasius and bring him to the register. Veritas rushes over to him, relieved that he is in one piece. At least Anastasius has the decency to look guilty while Veritas fusses over him. “Never do something so moronic again,” he scolds, glaring at him. Anastasius becomes teary-eyed and nods in response.

His expression softens when he notices Anastasius trembling. “I do not mean to frighten you; you just vanished out of my sight and I got worried. If you wish to run off, please warn me first.” He picks the boy up. “Me sorry.”

​Veritas sighs, “I know you are, but your actions have consequences.”​ 

Daphne walks to them and seems relieved that Anastasius is back safe and sound. “You give me quite the scare, kiddo.” Anastasius looks thoroughly chastised. “Me sorry, ma’am.”

“Just glad you’re okay.”

Thisavrós Mou ♥️

Aventurine watches as Veritas somehow gracefully flops down onto their bed. ​“Having a child has aged me by ten years,” Veritas says, his voice muffled by the pillow.​ Aventurine cannot help but chuckle as he sits down beside Veritas and runs his finger through his hair in a confronting motion. Veritas turns his head toward Aventurine, his scarlet eyes staring directly at him as he pouts his lip. “Does my suffering amuse you?”

“A bit.”

Veritas huffs and turns his head away from him. “Aw, don’t be mad, princess; you do not look a day over 500.”

He does not need Veritas to look at him to know he is probably rolling his eyes.

“At least you got what you needed.”

Veritas sighs and finally relents on giving Aventurine the silent treatment and sits up. “I ran into a woman from Thalassa while at the market. We had been talking before Anastasius ran away, and she informed me about an up-and-coming festival.”

“Oh?”

“Are you aware of the Divine Fall Day?”

Recognition flashes in Aventurine’s eyes. “I wasn’t aware it’s already that time of year again.”

“You have been, then?” Veritas asks.

“Mhm, very lively—lots of singing and dancing.” Veritas hums in acknowledgment. ​“It is five days from now; it would be most ideal to coordinate our trip around the event.”​

“Oh, most definitely! The cuisine there is to die for, especially at this time of year.” Aventurine cannot help but feel giddy. He loves traveling; if there is one thing he can tolerate about his job, it is the constant travel—rarely ever for vacation though, so he never truly gets to plan what he did while traveling. He only really started to travel after he officially started dating Veritas.

Veritas himself was also constantly traveling for work, but unlike Aventurine, he would take time from his work to truly absorb and appreciate the cultures of the worlds he visits. It is one of Aventurine’s favorite things about him: his willingness to accept others and their beliefs without being condescending. This trait made traveling with Veritas so exciting; he wasn’t afraid to try new things and was constantly adapting to whatever environment he was put in.

“I suppose we should get planning then.”

Aventurine grinned.

Thalassa here we come.

Chapter Text

“—and did you remember to pack the sunscreen?”  

Aventurine let out a long, theatrical sigh, dragging it out for what felt like the seventeenth time that morning.  

“Yes, dear,” he replied, his tone dripping with playful exasperation. “The sunscreen is in the bag. Along with the keys, our cards, and the mountain of other things you insisted we couldn’t live without.”  

Veritas crossed his arms, huffing lightly. “One can never be too prepared.”  

Aventurine chuckled, his irritation melting away into something warmer. No matter how meticulous—borderline obsessive, even—Veritas’s fussing had a certain charm that Aventurine couldn’t help but love.  

It was finally the day of their long-awaited trip, and the morning had gone off without a hitch: the house was spotless, their luggage was packed, and everything was ready. Yet, Veritas still hovered, triple-checking every detail as if the world might unravel over a forgotten travel-sized toothpaste.  

“Alright, fine,” Veritas sighed at last, clearly forcing himself to let it go. “We’d better leave now, or we’ll risk missing the flight.”  

Aventurine took the moment to drink in his husband’s appearance. Veritas had always been the picture of elegance, no matter the occasion. Today was no exception. His outfit—simple in theory—was anything but ordinary. Flowing whites and soft blues draped over his frame with a grace that felt otherworldly, paired perfectly with the pearl jewelry Aventurine had gifted him. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a painting, each detail deliberate, each movement effortlessly alluring.  

“My eyes are up here,” Veritas quipped, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless.  

Aventurine grinned, utterly unrepentant. “Just appreciating my work of art,” he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Veritas’s cheek.  

Veritas tried to maintain his composure, but the faint blush creeping across his cheeks gave him away. “Flatterer,” he muttered, though his voice held no bite. “Now come on, let’s grab Anastasius before you distract me anymore.”  

Anastasius didn’t know where they were going. When he’d asked, Kakavasha just smiled and said it was a surprise.  

The last time someone had ‘surprised’ him, it was his papa. That surprise ended with him locked in a bright room, poked and prodded at for hours. Sure, it had led to meeting Kakavasha and later Veritas, but that didn’t make it any less of a nightmare.  

Were they going to abandon him?  

Anastasius should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known better than to act out. If he’d just stayed put and not run off at the grocery store, maybe they wouldn’t leave him behind. He could feel his throat tighten and his eyes sting, but he blinked the tears back. He didn’t deserve to cry. He should’ve known better. Papa had always hated it when he misbehaved. Papa always made sure he knew that, one way or another.  

Were they taking him somewhere to punish him?  

Maybe he deserved it. But some desperate, selfish part of him didn’t want them to. He didn’t want them to hate him like Papa had. They were better at hiding it, but deep down, Anastasius was sure they hated him. Why wouldn’t they? And now they were going to get rid of him—  

A soft thump broke through his spiraling thoughts. A rolled-up magazine bopped him lightly on the head.  

“What’s going on in that head of yours, buddy?” Kakavasha’s voice was calm, almost teasing.  

Anastasius couldn’t stop it anymore. The tears came rushing out, spilling down his face before he could say anything at all.

Aventurine froze, unsure of what to do. Anastasius had seemed fine just a moment ago—quiet, maybe a bit lost in thought—but fine. He hadn’t even hit him that hard, just a playful little tap with the rolled-up magazine.  

He glanced at Veritas, whose wide eyes mirrored his own confusion. When Veritas didn’t immediately step in, Aventurine awkwardly tried to smooth things over. “Ana? Buddy, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”  

That only made things worse. Anastasius’s quiet crying turned into heart-wrenching sobs as he clung tightly to Aventurine’s sleeve.  

“Please no leave me!” Anastasius wailed. “Me sorry, no leave!”  

Veritas’s expression shifted, a flicker of realization crossing his face. Gently, he stepped forward and pulled Anastasius into a soft embrace. “Anastasius,” he said, voice calm and steady, “rest assured, we have no intention of abandoning you, nor did we mean to frighten you.”  

Aventurine, catching on, nodded quickly. “Yeah, buddy, we didn’t mean to scare you. Can you tell us what made you feel this way?”  

Through hiccuping breaths, Anastasius managed to choke out, “You... you say surprise. Papa take me surprise... then leave.” His voice broke on the last word, trembling with the weight of his fear.  

Aventurine and Veritas exchanged a look, guilt settling heavily between them. They should have seen this coming. Anastasius had been doing so well lately, it was easy to forget how deep his wounds still ran.  

“Anastasius,” Veritas said firmly, yet gently. “Look at me.”  

Anastasius sniffled, reluctantly lifting his tear-streaked face. Veritas’s expression softened as he crouched to meet his gaze. “First, I owe you an apology. We should have told you what was going on. The surprise we mentioned—it’s a vacation, not something to fear.”  

Anastasius blinked, confusion flickering across his face as he processed the words. Veritas turned to Aventurine, silently asking him to help.  

Aventurine knelt beside them, his tone warm and reassuring as he echoed, “Yeah, a vacation, like a fun trip! We were never going to leave you, Ana. And if something ever makes you feel this scared, you have to tell us, okay? We’ll always listen.”  

Veritas leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Anastasius’s forehead. “I may not have known you for long,” he murmured, “but I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood.”  

Aventurine followed, kissing both their foreheads before adding, “We’re family now, kid. And family sticks together—always.”  

Anastasius sniffled again but nodded, his grip on Aventurine’s sleeve finally loosening. He seemed to believe them.

Veritas closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath of the salty sea air. It reminded him so vividly of the beaches on his home planet. When he was younger—perhaps just a few decades old—he and his mother had spent countless days at the shoreline. He didn’t know if their love for the ocean was rooted in biology, a connection to their species’ origins in the water, or if it was simply because his mother found joy there.  

What he did know was that some of his happiest memories lived in the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sand, and the way his mother’s laughter filled the air. Those moments were like delicate treasures, fragments of joy that had managed to shine through the years.  

Now, standing on the beach once again, those memories came rushing back. Nostalgia hit him like the ocean breeze—bittersweet but calming. For a moment, the weight of everything he had endured felt lighter, like the tide was carrying some of it away.  

“Veritas! Veritas! Look!”  

Anastasius’s voice broke through his thoughts. The boy came bounding toward him, holding something in his small hands. “Like star!” Anastasius exclaimed, thrusting an unusually shaped shell toward him.  

Veritas smiled and knelt down, carefully accepting the shell. It was shaped like a star, delicate and rare. “Pesména Astéria,” Veritas said softly.  

Anastasius frowned in confusion. “What that mean?”  

“It means ‘fallen stars,’” Veritas explained. “The people of Thalassa believe that these shells were once stars in the sky. They fell into the ocean and washed up on the shore. They are quite rare, but finding one is said to bring good luck. If you make a wish on a fallen star, it will glow. Then, if you throw it back into the sea, your wish may come true.”  

“A wish?” Anastasius asked, wide-eyed, his fingers cradling the shell like it was the most precious thing in the world.  

Veritas gently placed it back into his hands. “Yes. But the wish will only come true if you throw it back into the ocean. That is important.”  

Anastasius stared at the shell, his expression thoughtful as he turned the idea over in his mind. “I—”  

Before he could say more, Veritas interrupted, “Refrain from saying it out loud. Wishes must stay secret, or they might not come true.”  

Anastasius’s mouth shut with a small click, and he nodded solemnly. Closing his eyes tightly, he seemed to pour every ounce of his heart into the wish. Veritas felt a swell of pride and affection when the shell began to glow softly in the boy’s hands.  

“What a powerful wish,” Veritas murmured.  

Anastasius beamed, his whole face lighting up with excitement. He spun toward the water and hurled the shell with all his might, watching as it disappeared into the waves.  

Veritas did not take his eyes off him, silently soaking in the joy that radiated from the child. The unrestrained happiness in Anastasius’s expression was contagious, warming Veritas from the inside out.  

As Anastasius skipped back toward the shoreline, Veritas closed his eyes again, letting the sun’s heat wash over him. The crash of the waves and the scent of the salt air wrapped around him like an embrace, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to truly relax.  

For your sake, Anastasius, I hope all your wishes come true.  

The thought lingered in his mind, a quiet prayer for the child he now called his own. A hope that no matter what lay ahead, Anastasius would always find moments like this—full of joy, wonder, and the promise of something brighter.

The beach seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. The waves moved in a gentle rhythm as Aventurine and Veritas strolled along the shoreline. It had been ages since the two of them had spent time alone together without Anastasius. Not that the boy was to blame—life had just been nonstop for both of them lately.  

Aventurine had been stuck on an IPC mission that was supposed to be quick and straightforward. But his partner, ever the perfectionist, had insisted on dragging out negotiations far longer than necessary.  

Meanwhile, Veritas had his hands full taking care of Anastasius, wrapping up his research, and preparing to return to his role as a professor. And, of course, Martha’s unexpected visit had been the cherry on top of an already chaotic few weeks.  

So this quiet walk by the ocean was exactly what they needed.  

No chaos. No nagging coworkers or family drama. Just the two of them and the sea.  

“But I woke up in a safe house singing. Honey, let’s get married,” Veritas murmured with a smile, softly humming the melody of their wedding song.

Aventurine’s face lit up as he joined in, singing, “Don’t wanna walk alone.”  

Taking Veritas’s hands, he pulled him into an impromptu dance. Veritas laughed, breathless and glowing, as they spun under the stars, their voices and the waves composing a song all their own.

Chapter Text

Anastasius couldn’t sleep. Yesterday had been different—he’d fallen asleep easily, worn out from all the fun and traveling they’d been doing. But tonight was another story. He tossed and turned in bed, the unfamiliar room around him feeling strange and unwelcoming. He never liked sleeping in new places; they always felt too quiet, too different, too... not home.

Anastasius squeezed his eyes shut, determined to force himself into sleep.

One sheep... Two sheep... Three sheep...

By the time he reached thirty-nine... forty... his frustration only grew. The sheep weren't helping. If anything, they seemed to be making fun of him, bouncing effortlessly over their little fences while he lay wide awake, tangled in his blankets and wishing for the comfort of his own bed.

He let out a frustrated huff and crawled out of bed, the blankets trailing behind him like a defeated cape. His room had a small balcony, and he padded over to it, sliding the door open.

The salty night air greeted him, cool and soothing, as he stepped outside. From here, he could see the ocean stretching endlessly under the moonlight, the waves shimmering like liquid silver. The rhythmic sound of the tide rolling in and out was calming, and for a moment, Anastasius just stood there, letting the breeze tousle his hair as he watched the endless horizon.

He tilted his head up, gazing at the stars scattered across the sky like tiny diamonds. The memory of the wish he’d made earlier that day surfaced—on that pretty star shell he’d found by the shore.

I wish I could keep staying with Kakavasha and Veritas, he had whispered to it, clutching the shell tightly in his hands as if the universe might hear him better that way.

Now, under the vast expanse of stars, he felt a little braver. A little less alone. The ocean whispered softly in the distance, almost as if reassuring him that wishes made with hope were never forgotten.

Aventurine sighed fondly as he watched Veritas come down from his high. Veritas’s vermillion eyes were still glazed, his pupils wide and soft with unspoken tears of pleasure that hadn't quite settled yet. Aventurine couldn't help but chuckle to himself, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his husband’s swollen lips.

Veritas snuggled closer, his body seeking the warmth Aventurine radiated. He tangled his fingers in Veritas’s indigo hair, twirling it gently between his fingers before bringing it to his lips, savoring the silken strands. Veritas let out a soft, contented noise, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as if to drink in the comfort.

“You want me to run you a bath?” Aventurine asked, his voice low and soothing.

Veritas, now in a clearer headspace, nodded slightly, his lips curving into a small, shy smile. That quiet moment of vulnerability tugged at Aventurine’s heart, and he couldn’t help but feel a gentle warmth spreading through him. The thought of caring for Veritas, of being his constant and his comfort, was something that never failed to fill him with quiet pride. Just like always, Veritas leaned on him, and Aventurine was more than happy to be there.

Anastasius stood in front of the door, his small hand hovering over the handle. He hesitated, biting his lip. He didn’t want to bother his, parents , guardians but the thought of going back to that unfamiliar bed alone made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He thought back to what Kakavasha had told him just the other day. “If something ever makes you feel this scared, you have to tell us, okay? We’ll always listen.”

Anastasius frowned, his brow furrowing stubbornly. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. It was just… sleeping alone in a strange place was hard, that’s all. It wasn’t fear. It was just… a lot. A lot to deal with.

Taking a shaky breath, Anastasius pressed his hand against the door and knocked softly.

There was a pause, a moment of stillness, before he heard the sound of shuffling footsteps moving toward the door. It creaked open just a fraction, and Kakavasha’s face appeared, concern flickering in his eyes as he looked down at him.

“Hey, buddy, why are you up so late?” Kakavasha’s voice was gentle, a soft warmth in his tone, the kind that made Anastasius feel a little safer.

Anastasius hesitated for a second, then mumbled, “I just... couldn’t sleep.” He shifted nervously from foot to foot, suddenly feeling unsure. “It’s just... the bed. It feels weird here.”

Kakavasha’s expression softened, concern filling his eyes as he looked down at Anastasius. “I can check to see if anything’s wrong if you’d like.”

Anastasius quickly shook his head, his hands wringing nervously. “Can I sleep with you guys tonight?”

For a brief moment, Kakavasha made a strange expression, like he was caught off guard. Anastasius’s stomach twisted, suddenly feeling like he’d crossed a line. He scrambled to take the words back, stumbling over them. “Nevermind, I’ll just go back—”

“Our room has bugs.” Kakavasha blurted out, cutting him off.

Anastasius blinked up at him, momentarily confused. They both stood there in silence, staring at each other. Kakavasha scratched the back of his neck, looking awkward. “Uh, the bugs are really big, and they’ve been biting Veritas all night, so let’s sleep in your room tonight.”

Anastasius’s eyes widened in shock. “My room has bugs too!” he blurted out without thinking.

Kakavasha blinked at him, and for a moment, there was a heavy silence. Then Kakavasha let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “What a conundrum we’re in.”

He paused, then offered, “Why don’t we sleep in the guest room? There’s probably no bugs in there.”

Anastasius felt a rush of relief, and nodded his head. The idea of staying with the two of them, even in the guest room, suddenly felt a lot less lonely.

When Anastasius saw Veritas, his stomach dropped, and he couldn’t help but feel horrified. He had thought Kakavasha was exaggerating, maybe even joking about the bugs, but the sight before him made it clear he had been wrong.

“Kakavasha no lie,” he whispered to himself, wide-eyed. “Poor Veritas.”

Kakavasha chuckled at the sight of Anastasius’s scared expression, his amusement evident. But before he could say anything else, a sudden yelp escaped him as Veritas stepped on his foot.

Chapter Text

Divine Fall Day had finally arrived, and the celebration was in full, dazzling swing. The streets were with vibrant colors, alive with laughter and the lively hum of music that floated on the crisp summer breeze. Golden leaves, both real and crafted, glittered under the light of the sun, intertwined with shimmering ribbons that draped from every lamppost, window, and stall.

The scent of the ocean—fresh sea air mingled with the faint tang of salt—permeated the atmosphere, blending seamlessly with the aromas of festival treats being sold by cheerful vendors. Everywhere, the joyful chatter of the crowd mixed with the sound of clinking glasses, distant bells, and the rhythmic thrum of drums that signaled the heart of the celebration.

It was a day of unity, remembrance, and joy, with every corner of the city bursting with life and shared excitement.

Veritas had suggested they stop by the marketplace to check out what sort of memorabilia was in store. The market was bustling with life, with stalls overflowing with handcrafted goods, colorful trinkets, and festive accessories.

They wandered from booth to booth, trying on anything that caught their eye. Veritas had immediately gravitated toward a stand with elaborate floral crowns, placing one delicately on his head and spinning around with a dramatic flourish. Anastasius, not to be outdone, grabbed a pair of oversized glasses shaped like autumn leaves, giggling as he pushed them up the bridge of his nose.

Aventurine couldn’t help but grin at the sight of them. They both looked so delightfully silly, Veritas with his elegant flower crown and Anastasius wobbling under the weight of comically large glasses. It was moments like these that made the day feel perfect, no matter how chaotic the crowd around them was.

Aventurine had snapped a couple of pictures, capturing Veritas’s dramatic poses and Anastasius’s wide, mischievous grin. After picking up a few souvenirs from the marketplace, they decided to head to one of the off-road restaurants Daphne had enthusiastically recommended.

Once they were seated, Veritas took charge of the menu like he always did. He meticulously read through the ingredients of every dish they were interested in, double-checking that nothing contained anything Anastasius was allergic to. His carefulness earned a mix of fond amusement and gratitude from Aventurine, who leaned back and watched as Veritas worked through the menu like it was an ancient manuscript.

Anastasius, meanwhile, kicked his legs under the table, distracted by the little jar of candy the server had placed at their table. "Can have dessert too?" he asked, looking hopeful.

"Only if you finish your meal first," Veritas replied without missing a beat, his eyes still scanning the menu.

Veritas stood with his arms crossed, a look of utter disbelief etched onto his face as he stared at Aventurine and Anastasius. "Why in Aeons’ name would I allow you to partake in such a daunting tradition??" he exclaimed, his tone teetering between outrage and sheer exasperation.

"But it’s part of the celebration!" Aventurine argued, trying, and failing, to sound reasonable while Anastasius nodded vigorously in agreement.

Veritas narrowed his eyes, his vermillion gaze boring into both of them. "Part of the celebration or not, scavenging for corpses is not happening. The fact that you even brought this up is beyond me."

Anastasius pouted, tugging at Aventurine’s sleeve. "But Kakavash said it cool! Like adventure!

"It is not 'cool,'" Veritas shot back, his voice firm. “It is unsanitary, dangerous, and frankly, barbaric. If you are that desperate for excitement, go play a build a sandcastle or—heavens forbid—try something that does not involve dead bodies.”

Aventurine sighed dramatically. “You’re no fun.”

Veritas arched a brow. “And you two are clearly out of your minds.”

They did not get to partake in the Great Scavenge, much to Aventurine’s profound disappointment. He sulked for a good ten minutes, but even he couldn’t deny that watching the starskiffs take off into the night sky was a breathtaking consolation prize.

The sky was alive with light as the skiffs ascended, their shimmering trails like shooting stars weaving through the darkness. Together, they stood in reverent silence, hands clasped as they murmured a quiet prayer, wishing all those who had perished a peaceful journey to the afterlife.

Once the last skiff disappeared into the horizon, signaling the end of the formalities, the mood shifted dramatically. The somber quiet gave way to music, laughter, and the hum of excited voices. The real party had begun, and the air seemed to buzz with newfound energy.

Aventurine watched with a soft smile as Anastasius shyly approached the group of children gathered near one of the festival’s lantern-lit stalls. For a moment, Anastasius hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, but his natural curiosity seemed to outweigh his nerves.

Despite the language barrier, it didn’t take long for the other kids to welcome him into their fold. Their laughter and excited gestures bridged any gaps in understanding, and soon enough, they were pulling Anastasius along, chattering animatedly and pointing towards a game set up near the bonfire.

“We’ll bring him back before the last ritual dance!” one of the older kids called out to Aventurine, waving reassuringly before disappearing into the crowd with Anastasius in tow.

Aventurine chuckled to himself, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the wooden posts nearby. Watching Anastasius find his place, even in unfamiliar surroundings, filled him with a quiet sense of pride.

“I am delighted that he is making friends,” Veritas said with a soft smile before taking his first sip of his margarita.

Aventurine couldn’t help but grin at him, already anticipating the shift that was about to happen. Another thing he absolutely adored about Veritas was how much of a lightweight he was when alcohol was involved. A single drink was usually enough to strip away his usual poise, leaving him giggly, clingy, and utterly endearing.

As Veritas took another sip, Aventurine leaned in, his grin widening. “Enjoying yourself already?”

Veritas tilted his head, blinking innocently before a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “It is... nice,” he said, his voice already a little softer than usual. He toyed with the rim of the glass for a moment before leaning closer to Aventurine, resting his head on his shoulder.

And there it was—the start of Veritas’s inevitable descent into tipsy adorableness. Aventurine chuckled, draping an arm around Veritas’s waist, more than happy to enjoy the evening with his giggly, affectionate husband.

By his third drink, Aventurine had stealthily swapped Veritas’s margarita for a SoulGlad—a far less potent, alcohol-free alternative. Not that Veritas noticed. He was already lost in the music, his cheeks flushed and his movements uncharacteristically unguarded.

It was one of the galaxy's more popular songs playing now, a track they’d danced to during their honeymoon. The irony wasn’t lost on Aventurine as Veritas swayed closer, his voice soft and teasing as he sang along with a giggle, “What’s that supposed to be about, baby? Go free up your vibe, stop acting crazy.”

Veritas draped his arms lazily around Aventurine’s neck, his hips moving to the rhythm with an ease that had Aventurine grinning from ear to ear.

“I can’t believe you’re serenading me right now,” Aventurine teased, his hands settling comfortably on Veritas’s waist as he pulled him even closer.

“You know I give you the good love daily,” Veritas replied, the words playful yet dreamy, his vermillion eyes sparkling as he leaned in closer.

“Try and pull that,” Aventurine murmured back, his voice dipping low, “got me actin’ shady.”

Veritas let out another burst of laughter, tilting his head down to meet Aventurine’s gaze. The warmth in his expression—soft, giggly, and unguarded—was too much for Aventurine to resist.

Cupping Veritas’s cheek, Aventurine leaned down and kissed him slow and gently. Veritas sighed into the kiss, his fingers tangling in Aventurine’s hair as they swayed together. The rest of the festival faded away into a blur of lights and distant laughter. For that moment, there was nothing but the two of them, the music, and the rhythm of their hearts in perfect sync.

Anastasius had fun. He had so much fun! The games, the music, the treats—everything had felt like stepping into a dream. His little feet ached from running around with the other kids, but it was the best kind of tired.

Now, as the festivities wound down, Anastasius snuggled closer to Veritas, who was being especially soft and cuddly tonight. Veritas had his arms wrapped securely around him, holding him close with the gentle warmth of someone who loved him more than words could ever say.

Anastasius let out a contented sigh, his cheek pressed against Veritas’s chest. The steady rhythm of Veritas’s heartbeat was the perfect lullaby after such an exciting day. “I had much fun today,” Anastasius murmured sleepily, his voice muffled but full of happiness.

Veritas smiled down at him, stroking his hair softly. “I’m glad, my little star. You deserve all the fun in the world.”

Anastasius blinked up at him, frowning slightly. Veritas’s words were slurred, his normally crisp and elegant tone replaced with something softer and far less composed. It felt... out of character for him.

Kakavasha had mentioned earlier that Veritas had enjoyed a lot of "fun juice" today, which Anastasius now understood must be the reason for all the strange behavior. Veritas wasn’t usually this giggly or clingy—or this eager to tell him he was his "favorite little star in the entire galaxy."

“Is fun juice why you funny today?” Anastasius asked innocently, tilting his head.

Veritas blinked down at him, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Funny?” he echoed, sounding almost offended before breaking into a giggle that even he couldn’t suppress. “I am not funny—I am refined.”

“Refined?” Anastasius repeated, doubtful. 

“Extremely refined, ” Veritas declared, snuggling against Anastasius’s head with a dramatic sigh. “But only for tonight, I am... fun. A treat. A special, once-in-a-lifetime Veritas.”

Anastasius stifled a giggle of his own. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he knew one thing for sure—fun-juice Veritas was very silly, and it was kind of the best thing ever.

Chapter Text

It took a bit for them to get back into the swing of things after their little family vacation. Settling back into reality was always harder than expected. The IPC had been relentless, sending Aventurine on mission after mission, leaving him feeling rung dry and utterly exhausted. Thankfully, Veritas had been nothing but supportive, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand when Aventurine felt like the weight of everything was too much.  

Now, sitting on the couch with his head leaned back and his eyes closed, Aventurine waited for Veritas to finish putting Anastasius to bed.  

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die...”  

Aventurine smiled faintly at the sound of Veritas’s soft voice carrying through the quiet house. They had been reading Charlotte’s Web to Anastasius before bed, and though Aventurine had teased Veritas about his dramatic flair for storytelling, he had to admit that his husband had the perfect voice for it.  

Five minutes later, the door to Anastasius’s room clicked shut, and Veritas appeared, settling onto the couch beside Aventurine. “You look fatigued,” he observed, his vermillion eyes scanning Aventurine with gentle concern.  

“I feel it,” Aventurine replied, cracking one eye open to peer at his husband. He couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Veritas in his simple nightwear—modest yet effortlessly elegant.  

“My eyes are up here,” Veritas said, his exasperation laced with fondness.  

Aventurine smirked and shifted closer, his face mere inches from Veritas. “Is this better?”  

Veritas huffed, his cheeks flushing red as he turned his head away. “You are insufferable.”  

Aventurine couldn’t hold back his laugh. Even after nearly four years together and ten months of marriage, Veritas still got flustered so easily. It was adorable, and Aventurine loved every second of it.  

Taking advantage of the moment, Aventurine rested his head against Veritas’s chest.  

“You damn gambler,” Veritas muttered, though the insult was softened by the way he adjusted their position so Aventurine could lie comfortably on top of him.  

Aventurine let out a content sigh as Veritas’s long fingers combed through his hair. The rhythmic motion, combined with the steady rise and fall of Veritas’s chest, was almost enough to lull him to sleep. 

“Anastasius says he would like to go to school.”  

All the sleepiness Aventurine had been feeling evaporated as Veritas said those words. He blinked owlishly, sitting up slightly. “School?”  

Veritas hummed in confirmation. “Apparently, some of the children he met during our brief stay in Thalassa mentioned how excited they were for the new school year to start. It seems to have sparked his interest.”  

Aventurine nodded slowly. It made sense—Anastasius had barely interacted with kids his age until the vacation. Still, the thought of sending him off to school filled Aventurine with a strange unease.  

“Is he even ready for school?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.  

“He is,” Veritas replied confidently, smoothing a hand over Aventurine’s hair. “He has been improving with his reading, and with a little help from his teachers, he will catch up with his peers quickly enough. His writing has come along wonderfully, though he is still behind in speaking. But that’s to be expected, given everything.”  

Hearing Veritas’s calm, thoughtful explanation eased some of Aventurine’s worries. It was clear Veritas had already put a great deal of thought into this.  

“Which schools did you choose?” Aventurine asked, his voice softening as he relaxed against Veritas again.  

“What makes you think I have already picked out schools?” Veritas shot back with a faint huff.  

Aventurine tilted his head up to give him a pointed, unimpressed look.  

Veritas sighed, conceding. “The River Valley School seems like the best option. They have an excellent selection of after-school activities and an inclusive environment. We would not have to worry about Anastasius facing any discrimination because of his origins.”  

Sometimes, Aventurine swore Veritas could read his mind. He always seemed to know exactly what to say to calm him down.  

“That sounds nice,” Aventurine murmured, letting the tension in his body melt away as he rested his head against Veritas’s chest again. The steady rhythm of Veritas’s heartbeat was soothing, lulling him back into a state of peace.

Anastasius could feel himself buzzing with excitement. Veritas had said he could go to school! To school!

Kakavasha had taken him on his very first "back-to-school shopping" trip, and it had been amazing. He’d gotten to pick out all kinds of cool school supplies—pencils with glittery designs, a notebook that changed colors in the light, and even a backpack shaped like a starship.  

Then Veritas had taken him to get his school uniform properly fitted. The tailor’s shop had been bustling with other kids preparing for the new school year, and that’s where he’d met some of his future classmates. They were so nice!  

They didn’t make fun of him for struggling with certain words. Instead, they took the time to help him, patiently sounding out words and encouraging him to try again until he got it right. It made him feel warm inside, like he’d already started to make friends.  

They’d even helped him pick out some fun accessories to go with his uniform—a star pin for his lapel and a small charm for his bag that matched one of the other kids. Anastasius couldn’t stop smiling. It felt like a whole new adventure was waiting for him.

Aventurine had taken the day off so he and Veritas could drop Anastasius off for his very first day of school. It was a monumental occasion for all of them, and even though they tried to act calm and collected, the air was charged with nervous energy.

Veritas fidgeted with his wedding ring, turning it around his finger absentmindedly. His usual composed demeanor was slightly cracked, his eyes darting over every detail—making sure Anastasius’ uniform was perfectly pressed, that his bag was packed with everything he might need, and that his lunch box was secure.

“Do you think we packed enough snacks?” Veritas asked suddenly, glancing at Aventurine.

Aventurine chuckled softly, placing a reassuring hand on his husband’s shoulder. “He’s got three different snacks in there. If he’s still hungry after that, I think he might be a black hole in disguise.”

Veritas shot him a look but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

Meanwhile, Anastasius was practically bouncing with excitement, his starship backpack slung over his shoulders. “Do you think we paint today? Or play outside? What if I meet someone who like same book I do?”

“You’re going to have an amazing day no matter what buddy,” Aventurine said, ruffling his hair. “Just remember to be yourself. Everyone’s going to love you.”

As they pulled up to the school gates, the buzz of kids and parents filled the air. Anastasius’ excitement grew, but so did Veritas’ fidgeting. Aventurine couldn’t resist teasing, leaning in close to whisper, “You know, you’re fussing more than when we got married.”

Veritas huffed, though his cheeks tinted pink. “I am allowed to fuss. This is important.”

Aventurine smiled and kissed Veritas’ cheek. “It is. And he’s going to be fine. We’ve got a pretty amazing kid.”

They both stepped out of the car, and Anastasius took their hands, practically dragging them toward the gates. Veritas’ grip was tight but steady, and Aventurine couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride as they watched their little star take his first steps toward this new chapter.

Veritas covered his mouth as he let out a quiet yawn, his fingers pausing mid-air over the scattered papers on his desk. The last of the grading was finally done, neatly stacked and ready to be returned to his students. Now came the more challenging task: crafting a fresh lesson plan.

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness that had crept in after hours of work. The familiar rhythm of his work felt slightly foreign now, like a song he couldn’t quite remember the tune to.

It had been ten months since he’d last stood in front of a classroom. Ten months of adjusting, adapting, and putting his focus into a different kind of teaching—helping Anastasius navigate his new life and all its challenges. It had been rewarding, yes, but it was also a departure from the life he’d known before.

He bit back a sigh, tapping his pen against the desk absentmindedly. The once seamless flow of creating lesson plans felt like wading through mud. His thoughts kept drifting to Anastasius, to the way his laughter lit up their home, and to how far he’d come since they first brought him into their lives.

A faint smile tugged at Veritas’ lips as he thought about how proud he was of their little family, even if his professional life felt a bit off balance at the moment. “It is just like riding a bike,” he murmured to himself. “I will find my rhythm again.”

Determined, he turned back to the blank notebook in front of him, jotting down ideas for the week’s lessons. Slowly but surely, the familiar spark began to return, his focus narrowing in on the plans ahead. There was still work to be done, but Veritas knew he’d find his way back—just as he always did.

Chapter Text

Aventurine paused in the doorway, watching the scene unfold before him. Veritas sat at the dining table, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, while Anastasius leaned forward, pencil clutched tightly in his small hands. They were both so focused, brows furrowed in identical expressions of concentration.

It had been two months since they had enrolled Anastasius in school, and to Aventurine’s relief—and mild surprise—the boy had adapted like a fish to water. He had made friends quickly, picked up new words faster than they could keep up with, and now, apparently, he was already tackling homework like a seasoned student.

Veritas murmured something, tapping a line in the workbook with his finger, and Anastasius huffed before erasing whatever mistake he had made. Aventurine couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Leaning against the doorway, he crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “How’s our little scholar doing?”

Anastasius perked up immediately, his face lighting up at Aventurine’s voice. “I’m so smart!” he announced proudly, holding up his homework like a trophy.

Veritas let out an amused hum, adjusting his glasses. “He’s doing well,” he said, glancing over at Aventurine with a fond look. “Though his handwriting could use some improvement.”

Aventurine chuckled as he walked over, ruffling Anastasius’s hair before dropping a kiss onto Veritas’s head. “Handwriting can wait. As long as he’s learning, that’s what matters.”

Anastasius beamed at him before turning back to his work with renewed enthusiasm, and Aventurine settled into the chair beside them, content to watch his family go about their nightly routine.

They had fallen into a comfortable routine, one that made the days flow seamlessly.

Aventurine woke up at five to get ready for work, moving through the quiet house while Veritas and Anastasius still slept. By six, Veritas would wake and start getting ready as well, while Aventurine helped Anastasius with his morning routine—getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and making sure his school bag had everything he needed. At six-thirty, Aventurine left for work, pressing a quick kiss to Veritas’s cheek on the way out.

By seven, Veritas would drive Anastasius to school before heading to work himself. Then, at two in the afternoon, Anastasius would board the school bus that took him to the daycare they had enrolled him in. Veritas, finishing work at five, would go pick him up and bring him home.

At seven, Aventurine finally returned, greeted by an excited Anastasius barreling into him for a hug and a warm smile from Veritas. Dinner was at eight, a time they all cherished—sharing stories from the day, listening to Anastasius talk about his lessons, and simply being together.

By ten, Anastasius would be tucked into bed, leaving Aventurine and Veritas a few precious hours to themselves. Some nights, they spent it curled up together on the couch, talking in hushed tones. Other nights, they just basked in each other’s presence, enjoying the quiet. And then, eventually, they’d slip into bed, knowing tomorrow would begin the cycle again.

It was routine. It was ordinary. And it was perfect.

Wrapped up in the warm cocoon of their shared blankets, Aventurine gently ran his fingers through Veritas’s hair, relishing the soft, content sigh his husband let out. As of late, Veritas had been noticeably more affectionate—reaching for Aventurine more often, lingering in his arms just a little longer, tucking himself against his chest like he never wanted to leave.

Not that Aventurine minded. If anything, he adored it.

Veritas had always been hesitant when it came to expressing his own needs, often prioritizing others over himself. So when he reached out for comfort, Aventurine made sure to give it freely. He matched Veritas’s quiet affection with his own, holding him close without question, letting him know without words that he never had to ask twice.

“You are warm,” Veritas murmured sleepily, his voice muffled against Aventurine’s chest.

Aventurine chuckled, tightening his hold. “And you’re clingy,” he teased, though the fondness in his tone betrayed any attempt at complaint.

Veritas huffed, shifting just enough to press his face into the crook of Aventurine’s neck. “I could move.”

“Don’t you dare,” Aventurine said immediately, pulling him back in.

Veritas laughed softly, and Aventurine smiled against his hair. The room was quiet, save for their steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the blankets. It was moments like these that Aventurine treasured the most—the simplicity of just holding the person he loved, feeling him relax against him, safe and secure.

No words were needed. Just this—just them.

Eventually, Veritas broke the silence, “I am thinking of cutting my mother off fully.”

Aventurine’s fingers paused where they had been idly tracing patterns along Veritas’s back. His heart gave a little squeeze at the quiet weight in Veritas’s words. He didn’t react right away, didn’t push—just let the words settle between them.

After a moment, he resumed his gentle touches, rubbing slow, soothing circles against Veritas’s skin. “Yeah?” he finally said, his voice soft, open. “What brought this on?”

Veritas exhaled, a breathy, tired sound. “I suppose I have known for a long time that she and I could never have the relationship I once wished for,” he admitted. “But I kept trying. Kept hoping. Even when she never gave me much reason to.”

Aventurine stayed quiet, letting him talk at his own pace.

“She sent a message today,” Veritas continued. “It was… I do not even know why I opened it. I should not have. But I did. And it was the same as always. Thinly veiled insults disguised as concern. Questions about Anastasius that were not truly questions—more like criticisms wrapped in passive-aggression.” His grip on Aventurine’s shirt tightened slightly. “I am tired, Aventurine. I do not want to keep putting myself through this.”

Aventurine shifted so he could look Veritas in the eye, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Then don’t,” he said simply. “You don’t owe her anything, Ver. You’ve given her chance after chance, and all she’s done is hurt you. You don’t have to keep setting yourself on fire just to keep her warm.”

Veritas’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to protest, but no words came. Instead, his expression softened, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away. “I know,” he murmured. “I think… I think I just needed to hear it.”

Aventurine pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling back. “Then let it be done,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “You don’t have to carry this weight anymore.”

Veritas exhaled again, this time lighter, looser, like he had finally let go of something he’d been gripping too tightly for far too long. Then, without another word, he tucked himself fully against Aventurine’s chest once more.

And Aventurine held him, just like always.

Aventurine watched as Anastasius disappeared behind the clinic doors, his small hand slipping from his grasp as one of the staff members led him inside. His stomach twisted in that all-too-familiar way, a gnawing unease settling in his gut.

These appointments were getting more frequent. More vague. The explanations they were given never truly answered anything, just reassurances wrapped in bureaucratic nonsense. Routine check-ups. Standard procedures. Nothing to worry about.

Aventurine wasn’t stupid.

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the side of his vehicle. His fingers drummed impatiently against his arm. He’d played along this long because Jade had asked him to be patient—to trust the process—but patience had never been his strong suit.

And lately? He was running on fumes.

Veritas could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. The whole day had been off—small, insignificant things piling up into an unbearable weight in his chest. But it was not until Aventurine took Anastasius to his appointment that the unease sharpened into something more visceral.

He tried to ignore it, pushing himself to focus on the research project the IPC had called him in for. He sat through discussions, nodded at the right moments, and even managed to contribute a few thoughts. But beneath it all, the gnawing dread remained.

Then he heard it—shouts echoing down the hallway.

The scientist beside him barely flinched, brushing it off as a minor incident, but Veritas was already moving. His heart pounded in his chest, the steady rhythm of his footsteps quickening as he neared the source of the commotion.

Snippets of conversation reached his ears—hurried, frantic.

"Contain the situation—"

"We need more hands—"

"Get the restraints—"

The sharp scent of antiseptic and something metallic—blood—hit him like a wall as he pushed open the door.

And then he saw him.

Anastasius lay motionless on the operating table, his small frame pale against the stark white sheets. His clothes had been cut away, and replaced with cold medical restraints. Blood pooled beneath him, too much blood.

For a moment, the world went silent.

This could not be real. It could not be his little star lying there on the operating table. It could not be his son, fighting for breath, slipping away under those harsh, sterile lights. The IPC would not dare make Veritas their enemy. He was far too valuable to them. But they did. They had.

Veritas did not have time to process the betrayal, not when his son’s life hung by a thread. He snapped into action, barking orders at the doctors around him, his mind focused only on one thing—saving Anastasius. The chaos in the room became a blur, each second stretching into eternity, but somehow, against all odds, they managed to stabilize him.

When he was sure Anastasius was no longer in immediate danger, Veritas turned to the doctor in charge, his voice icy with controlled fury. “Bring me your superior.”

Chapter Text

The room was deathly silent, tension thick as Veritas stood rigid, his usual composed grace sharpened into something lethal. His hands, still smeared with his son’s blood, curled into fists at his sides as he locked eyes with the doctor, fury burning cold and unyielding.

The doctor hesitated, clearly thrown by the sheer weight of Veritas’s presence. “Sir, I—”

“Now.” Veritas’s voice sliced through the air, razor-sharp and leaving no room for argument. “I do not care who they are or how high they sit. Bring them to me. Immediately.”

The doctor swallowed hard, visibly shaken but unwilling to test him further. With a quick, jerky nod, he turned on his heel and all but fled the room, leaving Veritas alone with Anastasius—still unconscious but breathing, still too pale, too fragile.

A slow, measured breath. In. Out. Control was imperative. Losing it now would not save his son. Would not undo what had already been done. His mind raced, but his focus remained unwavering, locked onto Anastasius’s small, still form.

The minutes dragged, each one stretching unbearably long. Then, at last, the door swung open. A man entered—older, crisp uniform pressed to perfection. His posture was stiff, calculated, but the way he approached Veritas betrayed a flicker of unease.

“I came as requested,” he said, his voice all business, though an undercurrent of apprehension lurked beneath the polished tone. “Is there an issue, sir?”

Veritas’s gaze darkened, a slow, dangerous thing. “Do not insult me,” he said flatly. “Tell me why I found my son on this table, barely alive.”

The man blinked, momentarily thrown. “I—I don’t know what you mean. The situation was unfortunate, yes, but a routine procedure. A complication arose—”

“A complication?” Veritas echoed, stepping forward, slow and deliberate. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Do you take me for a fool? Do you expect me to believe that you nearly killed my son by accident? No. You will tell me exactly what happened. Now.”

The man stiffened, sweat beading at his temple. “Sir, I—”

“Are you aware of who you’re speaking to?” Veritas’s voice dipped lower, colder, each word a quiet promise of ruin. “Do you think this can be brushed aside? That I’ll simply accept your pathetic excuses? You have made a grave mistake.” His eyes burned, unrelenting. “And I will make sure you regret it.”

The man took an instinctive step back, his mask of professionalism cracking. “I—I will speak to the higher-ups,” he stammered. “I’ll—”

“Then go.” Veritas’s patience had run thin, his tone now ice and steel. “You have ten minutes.”

The man didn’t dare linger, practically fleeing the room.

Silence returned, save for the steady rise and fall of Anastasius’s breathing. Veritas exhaled slowly, forcing his pulse to steady as he reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his son’s forehead.

“I will not allow them to hurt you again,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet, seething wrath. “Not ever again.”

He stood there for a long moment, gaze never leaving Anastasius. The IPC had crossed a line. One they would regret. And Veritas would make certain they learned exactly what that would cost them.

Eszes knew she was fucked the moment she heard that Dr. Ratio—the Dr. Veritas Ratio—was demanding to speak with her.

They had gotten too cocky. Too comfortable.

She had been on edge ever since she learned that Dr. Ratio was consulting a fellow researcher just three doors down from where they had been dissecting his son. His son.

She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to suppress the instinctual terror curling in her gut. There was no escape from this. She straightened her posture, schooled her features into neutrality, and pushed open the door.

“Dr. Ratio, what a pleasure to have you.”

It was a pathetic attempt at pleasantries, and she knew it.

The man was beautiful—his entire species was engineered to be that way. Delicate. Ethereal. Soft. A deceptive allure designed to draw in prey before ripping them apart.

Vermilion eyes locked onto her the moment she stepped inside. A predator’s gaze. He stood beside his son, body positioned just slightly forward—an unmistakable barrier between her and the unconscious boy. Protective. Possessive.

Lethal.

Eszes swallowed. It took everything in her not to recoil, not to run. But it was far too late for that now.

“I was informed that my son was coming in today for a simple ‘check-up,’” Veritas said, his voice eerily calm. Too calm. “What sort of check-up requires a patient’s insides to be on the operating table? What kind of check-up even requires a patient to be on the operating table?”

The words were smooth, measured—but they carried the weight of a blade pressed against her throat.

Eszes tried to wet her lips, to think of an excuse, any excuse, but her mind was blank. What could she possibly say? The truth would be suicide. A lie would be worse.

Veritas tilted his head slightly, his crimson gaze drilling into her, unblinking. Waiting.

Daring her to speak.

“I-It seems there was a miscommunication,” she stammered, forcing herself to meet Veritas’s gaze even as every instinct screamed at her to look away. There was something about his eyes—vermilion and unblinking—that made it impossible.

“A miscommunication?” His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, but it did nothing to ease the suffocating tension in the air.

“Yes!” she rushed to explain. “There was a mix-up with patient files, and as you can see—”

Veritas cut her off with a single step forward, closing the distance between them in an instant.

“It took my son nearly bleeding to death for your team to realize you had the wrong patient?”

Eszes’s breath hitched. Every nerve in her body screamed run, but she stayed rooted in place, knowing—knowing—that movement would only make things worse.

Veritas didn’t raise his voice, yet it filled the room, curling around her like an unseen force. The air itself felt heavier, pressing against her chest, making it harder to breathe.

“You expect me to believe that?” he murmured, peering down at her, studying her like she was something small and insignificant.

Eszes’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her knees threatened to buckle.

She had heard the rumors.

The warnings.

None of them had done him justice.

This wasn’t a man.

This wasn’t a doctor.

This was a being who had outlived many mortals and would continue to do so far after she was gone. Who had seen worlds change and crumble, and who—if he chose—could ruin her life without a second thought.

His vermilion gaze didn’t waver.

“Tell me, Dr. Eszes,” he said, voice like silk over steel, “do you have children?”

She swallowed hard and gave a shaky nod.

“Then you understand,” Veritas continued, each word deliberate, deadly, undeniable. “If someone tried to dissect your child, you would want answers, wouldn’t you?”

A breath shuddered past her lips. “Y-Yes.”

Veritas smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Good,” he said smoothly, stepping back just slightly. “Then you would not have any problem giving me exactly what I want.”

Eszes nodded so quickly it almost hurt. “O-Of course, Dr. Ratio,” she stammered. “I—I’ll get you everything. Every file, every report—”

“Now.”

The single word sliced through the air like a blade.

Eszes nearly tripped over herself in her haste to flee from the room. She could feel his gaze on her back, heavy as a knife at her spine, tracking her every movement.

She had to think. Had to fix this before it spiraled any further out of control.

But as she rushed down the corridor, heart hammering against her ribs, one thing became devastatingly clear—

It was already far too late for that.

Veritas’s fingers tightened around the files in his hands, the paper crinkling beneath his grip. Each word on the page felt like a slap across his face, a bitter reminder of the horrors they had subjected his son to.

Patient #213.

The words echoed in his mind, each syllable a cold reminder of how they had dehumanized Anastasius. To them, his son wasn’t a person, a child, or even a being deserving of basic respect. He was nothing more than a number. A specimen to be dissected, studied, and exploited.

His eyes burned with anger as he read the notes, the words sinking into him like poison.

‘The boy is a good blood donor, AB- blood is rare, and having a person who we could use as a blood bank is a gold mine. There were rumors suggesting that Avgin’s blood had healing qualities, and from the experiments we have performed, it seems to be true. More tests are to be conducted to see if we could use its blood to its full potential.’

Veritas could feel his pulse quicken, his chest tightening as rage built within him, scorching every thought. His hands trembled as he fought to keep control. He wanted to tear the papers apart, to rip every trace of this vile ‘research’ from existence. But he stayed still, reading every word, every sickening detail, like a man walking through fire and forcing himself to endure.

Every file had referred to Anastasius in the same dehumanizing way—Patient #213. And when they didn’t use that, they had referred to him as it.

It.

Not a person. Not his son. Just an object.

The quiet in the room felt deafening. His mind swirled with fury, with thoughts of the people responsible for this. He wanted to hunt them down, to make them feel the terror his son had endured—the terror they had unintentionally partook in as well.

But there was no time for that now.

Veritas forced himself to breathe, trying to keep the fire of his rage contained. He couldn’t afford to lose himself in this fury. Not when Anastasius still needed him. Not when he was just beginning to recover, to regain a sense of peace.

Still, the flames inside him were only growing stronger. And when the time came—when the final reckoning arrived—it would be swift.

“I want a copy of every file,” Veritas’s voice was like ice, so detached and cold.

Eszes flinched, her eyes wide with panic as she seemed to finally understand that he wasn’t merely making a request. He was giving an order. “W-what for?” she stammered, her voice shaking.

The audacity of her question burned through him like fire. She had the nerve to ask him why, after everything she had done to his son. After all the suffering they had inflicted on Anastasius.

Veritas’s gaze locked onto hers, unwavering, like a predator staring down its prey. His words came out slowly, deliberately, each one a lethal strike.

“I think the intelligence guild would be very interested to find out about all the information you have been gathering from right under our noses.”

Eszes’s face drained of color, her breath hitching in her throat. She took a step back, her back pressing against the wall as if she were trying to escape the weight of his gaze.

“You will be handing them over to me,” Veritas continued, his voice low but thick with threat. “Every file, every piece of information. And you’ll make sure they are complete. Every test. Every detail. If you value your career, your life, you will comply without question.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. There was no room for negotiation, no room for excuses. She either gave him what he demanded, or she would face the consequences—consequences that, in his mind, would be far worse than death.

Eszes opened her mouth, probably to protest, but Veritas’s glare silenced her before she could utter a word.

“R-right away.”

Aventurine had dropped everything the moment his underling mentioned they had seen Veritas ripping into some researchers. Normally, he would have brushed off the comment—Veritas was no stranger to scolding a researcher or two—and happily gone to visit his husband, but this time it felt different. He couldn’t shake the memory of dropping Anastasius off at his appointment today and how his husband had been unusually paranoid about Aventurine leaving their son there alone.

His heart raced as he made his way to the IPC’s research center. When he asked one of the researchers about Veritas, the frightened glance they cast his way pointed him to the room where he was. Aventurine’s anxiety surged as he braced himself for whatever waited on the other side of the door.

The first thing that hit him when he entered the room was the overwhelming stench of blood. His stomach turned, panic threatening to overtake him—but then he saw Veritas. His husband was sitting quietly, running his fingers through Anastasius’s hair, and for a moment, Aventurine’s breath caught with relief.

He took a step forward, but as he drew closer to the bed, his anxiety clawed at him again. His son’s small form, motionless and pale, sent a jolt of terror through him. The sight of Anastasius lying so still on the bed, his skin so unnaturally pale, hit Aventurine like a punch to the gut. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, suffocating.

Aventurine’s heart plummeted, and for a brief moment, everything else seemed to blur around him. His legs felt like lead as he reached the bed. The only thing that grounded him was the faint rise and fall of Anastasius’s chest. It was slow. Too slow. But it was something. It was life.

His hand trembled as it landed on Veritas’s shoulder, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Veritas’s fingers continued their soft, almost hypnotic motion through Anastasius’s hair. His face was calm, but the fury radiating from him was palpable—thick, dark, and unnerving. It wasn’t the usual anger Veritas wore like armor. This was something far deeper. Far colder.

Aventurine swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “What happened?”

Veritas paused, his gaze never leaving their son. His voice was calm but steeped in a quiet intensity. “They hurt him, Kakavash. They hurt our son. They have to pay for this. They will pay for this. But right now... we focus on him.”

The raw determination in his tone made Aventurine’s chest tighten, the weight of those words sinking deep into his bones. He’d heard Veritas speak with resolve before, but this was different. This wasn’t about anything other than their son.

Aventurine sat beside the bed, his hand trembling as he reached for Anastasius’s cold fingers. He squeezed them softly, as if the simple act could remind their son that they were here. That they were fighting for him.

The air felt thick, heavy with fear and anticipation. But as Aventurine clung to the fragile life in his son’s hand, a quiet promise formed in his chest. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

The longer Aventurine looked at his son, the more the rage inside him burned, searing through his veins like molten fire. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as the decision settled deep within him.

“Whatever you have planned,” he said, voice low and unwavering, “I want in.”

Veritas finally turned to him, and Aventurine felt his breath catch. His beautiful, brilliant husband smiled—a slow, razor-sharp thing, full of dark promise. It wasn’t a smile of reassurance. It was a smile that spoke of vengeance, of justice, of blood.

And Aventurine found himself smiling back.

Chapter Text

Eszes’s hands trembled as she stared down at the papers. A formal notice of her demotion, stripped of her position as top research personnel. Exile to some insignificant planet in the middle of an equally insignificant galaxy.

She knew she should be grateful—she still had a job, after all. It was a kinder fate than the one her colleagues had met, blacklisted and left with nothing.

But gratitude was a bitter thing, curdling in her stomach, drowned out by the quiet ember of resentment burning in her chest.

Resentment toward him. The man who had single-handedly ruined her career, shattered everything she had built.

But even as the bitterness festered, fear kept her in check. Kept her from acting on the anger that whispered treacherous thoughts in the back of her mind.

Because she had seen what he was capable of.

And she knew better than to cross him.

She swallowed down the bitterness, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. One by one, she packed up her belongings from her now-former office, each item feeling heavier than it should.

By the time she was ready to leave, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin.

The ride home was torturous—every second stretching unbearably long, her mind caught in an endless loop of everything that had happened. The humiliation. The fear. The sheer helplessness of it all.

But none of that mattered now.

She just wanted to get home, sink into a hot bath, kiss her husband, and hold her kids.

She needed to remind herself that there was still something good left in her world.

“I'm home,” she called out, slipping off her coat and hanging it by the door. Silence greeted her.

She frowned. That was odd. She could have sworn her husband had the day off.

A soft glow spilled from the dining room. Her heart lifted slightly. Maybe he was planning a surprise—maybe he had made her favorite meal, a quiet way to make her awful day a little better.

A small smile found its way to her lips as she stepped toward the room, anticipation making her movements lighter.

But the moment she stepped inside, the warmth drained from her body.

Her husband sat at the dining table, a stack of papers spread out before him. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t waiting to greet her with open arms. His expression was unreadable—cold, distant in a way that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Honey?” she asked hesitantly, taking a step forward.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he picked up one of the papers, tapping it against the table as if gathering his thoughts. Then, finally, he looked up at her.

“I want a divorce.”

The words hit her like a physical blow.

Her breath caught in her throat, confusion and dread tangling together into something suffocating. “W-what?” she choked out. “What are you talking about?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I know, Eszes.” His voice was steady, calm—too calm. “I know everything. About the experiments. The things you did.”

Her stomach dropped.

The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick to breathe. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Don’t,” he cut her off, his voice sharp, final. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t insult me like that.” He shoved one of the papers toward her. Her eyes flicked down to it, and the moment she registered what it was—what it detailed—her mouth went dry.

There was no escaping this. No talking her way out of it.

Her husband leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “I’m filing for full custody,” he said, voice unwavering. “You won’t see the kids again. Not after what you’ve done.”

A sharp, horrible panic clawed at her chest.

No.

Not her kids.

She opened her mouth, desperate to say something—anything—but for the first time in her life, Eszes was truly speechless.

She felt her entire world crumble beneath her feet.

Jade sat across from Veritas, wearing a carefully practiced smile—one that might have worked on the weak-willed or the ignorant. But Veritas was neither.

He met her gaze with an expression of quiet indifference, utterly unmoved by whatever charm or authority she was attempting to project.

The IPC was in chaos. The Intelligence Guild had made sure of that, managing the narrative and threatening to sever all ties unless immediate action was taken. Other organizations had followed suit, withdrawing their support and forcing the IPC into frantic damage control. In a desperate bid to salvage their reputation, they had publicly denounced the research center, painting it as an isolated disgrace rather than an institutional failure.

And now, they had sent her.

Jade was, by all accounts, an intimidating woman. Veritas knew she unsettled Kakavasha—their relationship was a tangled mess of history, grudges, and unspoken resentments. But Veritas?

He felt nothing toward her. No fear. No hesitation.

And she knew that.

Jade exhaled slowly, as if trying to gauge how best to approach him. “I imagine you already know why I’m here,” she began, voice smooth, calculated.

Veritas tilted his head, his vermilion eyes sharp as they studied her.

“Do I?” he said coolly.

Jade’s smile didn’t falter, but something in her gaze flickered. A realization, perhaps, that this would not be an easy conversation.

“What is it that you are hoping to accomplish? Name your price the IPC will compensate you in full.” Jade said, clearly realizing the best tactic was straightforward negotiation with no flowery words.

Veritas let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, resting his chin against his intertwined fingers as he regarded her with a look that was almost... amused.

"Compensate me?" he echoed, as if tasting the word and finding it bitter. "Tell me, Miss Jade—how exactly does one put a price on what was done to my son?"

Jade held his gaze, her expression unreadable. "We can not undo what happened," she admitted. "But we can ensure your cooperation moving forward. The IPC is prepared to—"

Veritas leaned forward slightly, cutting her off with nothing but a shift in his posture. The air between them grew heavier, his presence suffocating.

“Do you truly believe that I want money?” His voice was soft, dangerously so. "Do you believe I would accept some meaningless sum in exchange for my son's suffering?"

Jade didn’t answer.

Veritas exhaled slowly, then smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile.

“There is only one thing I want, Miss Jade.” He met her gaze, unblinking. “I want the names of every single person who was involved. Every researcher, every official, every sponsor.”

Jade hesitated. “Veritas—”

“Every. Single. Name,” he repeated, voice as sharp as a blade. “Or this entire organization will burn to the ground. Your choice.”

Jade exhaled slowly, tapping her fingers against the table in a steady rhythm. She was weighing her options, calculating risks, trying to find an angle that wouldn’t end with the IPC in ruins.

Veritas, for his part, was in no rush. He watched her with the patience of a predator that already had its prey cornered.

“This isn’t something I can just hand over to you,” Jade finally said, her voice even. “There are protocols, protections in place—”

Veritas arched a brow. “Protections,” he repeated. “Interesting how my son did not receive any of that.”

Jade’s jaw tightened, but she remained composed. “If I give you those names, what happens next?”

Veritas smiled, slow and deliberate. “That depends entirely on them.”

Silence stretched between them, tense and unmoving.

Jade knew she was trapped. The IPC could try to stall, try to bury this deeper, but the damage was already done. Every second she hesitated, Veritas’s leverage only grew. The intelligence guild was watching. Other factions were waiting.

“Fine,” she finally said, voice clipped. “You’ll have your names.”

Veritas leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then we can begin.”

Aventurine sat across from Mr. Scott with an almost unsettling calm, his smile polite but chilling. The businessman, a man used to manipulating situations, stiffened under Aventurine’s gaze. There was no warmth in that smile, no pleasantries to be exchanged.

“I must say,” Aventurine began smoothly, “it's been quite some time since we last spoke, Mr. Scott. And I believe we both know that today’s conversation is not about business.”

The air between them thickened with unspoken tension. Mr. Scott shifted in his seat, his mouth going dry. He knew exactly what Aventurine was hinting at, but he chose to keep his composure, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said carefully, the facade of politeness in place.

Aventurine’s smile didn’t falter, but his voice dropped lower, a velvet threat laced with undeniable malice. “Oh, I think you do. I know you’ve been collecting vials of my son’s blood, Mr. Scott. And I know you’ve been working on selling it.” He leaned forward, his gaze unwavering. “I also know that this would be far more damaging if it got out. The Intelligence Guild would have quite a lot to say about your little side business. But that's not all, is it?”

Mr. Scott’s face paled, his body stiffening. The mention of the guild made it clear that this wasn’t just a threat—it was a promise. Aventurine wasn’t bluffing.

“Do you know what would happen if this were to come to light?” Aventurine continued, his voice still smooth but carrying the weight of impending destruction. “Your reputation? Gone. Your connections? Destroyed. And worse yet… your wife’s family. You married into money, didn’t you, Mr. Scott? But none of that is really yours, is it? I can make sure she knows exactly what you've been doing. I’m sure your in-laws would love to hear about your little... experiments.”

The businessman swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could feel everything he’d worked for slipping through his fingers. His wealth, his status, his marriage—all of it could vanish with the flick of a switch.

Aventurine’s eyes gleamed with cold certainty. “Now, here’s the deal. You give me every vial of my son’s blood. All of it. You hand over everything, and I will make sure this… remains between us. No one will know. Your little world will remain intact.”

Aventurine leaned back in his seat, allowing the silence to stretch out, the weight of his words sinking in. The businessman had no choice. Not now.

“You have 24 hours, Mr. Scott,” Aventurine said finally, his tone turning darker. “Make the right choice, or I’ll see to it that everything you value is destroyed.”

The businessman sat frozen, his mind racing. There was no way out. He nodded slowly, his face betraying his helplessness.

“I’ll get you what you want.”

Aventurine loved his husband. He loved him in a way that twisted his insides, a devotion that sometimes bordered on obsession. There was something about Veritas—the way his presence commanded the room, the coldness in his eyes that turned to molten warmth when it was just the two of them, the way he made Aventurine feel seen in a world that often felt indifferent. He wasn’t just the man Aventurine married; he was everything—every dark corner of his mind, every unspoken desire, every crack in his soul had been filled the moment they came together. There was a weight to their connection, a bond forged in fire and blood, and it was a bond that never let go, not for a moment.

And right now, as Aventurine stood at the doorway, he could feel that bond tightening, squeezing his chest, threatening to swallow him whole.

His husband, the one he would kill for, the one he would burn down cities for, was sitting in a chair with their son cradled in his arms. Veritas was humming softly to Anastasius, the lullaby floating through the air like an ancient spell, a melody so sweet and haunting it almost felt like something sacred. The sight of his husband so tender, so gentle with their child, was a contrast to the brutal strength he usually exuded.

But it was also the most beautiful thing Aventurine had ever seen.

Veritas’s face was soft, almost serene, as he rocked their son gently, his long fingers brushing through Anastasius’s hair in a delicate rhythm. His usual icy demeanor was nowhere to be seen, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. A side of him Aventurine only got to witness when they were alone, when it was just the family that they had built together.

Aventurine’s heart swelled with love, but with that love came a possessiveness that gnawed at him. He wanted to protect them both from the world, wanted to shield his family from any harm, even if it meant destroying anyone who dared threaten them.

But at the same time, there was a dark part of him, something primal, something dangerous, that didn’t know how to deal with the overwhelming affection he felt. The way Veritas held their son so carefully, so lovingly, made a fire burn in Aventurine’s chest, a possessive rage mixed with the desperate need to be closer, to never let go.

His throat tightened as he watched the way Veritas’s eyes softened as he looked down at Anastasius, a kind of devotion that matched his own. It made his pulse race, a dangerous cocktail of love, need, and jealousy twisting in his veins.

It was a wonder he could even breathe in the presence of this kind of love. It was everything he ever wanted, but at the same time, it was terrifying. Because, in those moments, Aventurine felt a dangerous, almost overwhelming desire to possess it all, to make sure that no one could ever take what was his. And that included his son—his and Veritas’s child.

But for now, he simply stood there, watching the man he loved more than life itself cradle their son, and he allowed himself the luxury of soaking in this moment. It was a fleeting glimpse of happiness in a world that often felt like it was built to tear them apart.

And as his heart ached with love, a dangerous thought slipped into his mind: nothing and no one would ever come between them. No one would ever take this away.

Veritas knew the way his husband sometimes looked at him was… not normal. He knew that anyone else would likely shrink away from that intense gaze, perhaps even fear it. But Veritas? He found it alluring. There was something in the way Kakavasha’s eyes followed him, as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered. It made him feel like the center of his universe, and Veritas wasn’t blind to the power that held. He liked it. He liked it more than he would ever care to admit out loud. The overwhelming devotion, the unspoken adoration—it was something Veritas craved more than he cared to acknowledge.

And, in truth, it was not one-sided. He loved Kakavasha too. He loved the man’s strength, his passion, the way he would go to any lengths to protect their family. Their love was built on a foundation of fire, a partnership that could weather anything. The bond between them was unshakable, and Veritas had never felt more alive, more whole, than when they were together. They were a force, the two of them, and together they had created something beautiful.

But there was one thing that still nagged at him. Kakavasha hadn’t fully accepted their son, Anastasius, as part of their world yet. It hurt to see the distance, the reluctance in his eyes when it came to their child, but Veritas was not worried. Not really. He knew Kakavasha, knew how fiercely he loved. He’d come around. He had to. Veritas would make sure of it, and, deep down, he was sure his husband would too. No matter how complicated things might be now, they would find their way. They always did.

Veritas’s hand slipped down to his stomach, and he rubbed it gently, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. After all, soon their family would grow even more. There will be a new addition to their small, already perfect world, and Veritas could not help but feel a quiet thrill at the thought. Another life to love, another piece of them to cherish. He could not wait to see how Kakavasha would react to their growing family, to the tiny new life that would soon be in their arms.

Everything would fall into place. He knew it would.

Pain. So much pain.

It had felt endless, an overwhelming tide that left him gasping, drowning in the agony. And then, just as suddenly, it stopped. Like a switch had been flipped.

Anastasius couldn’t quite understand where he was, or what had happened, but there was a gentle presence beside him. A hand, warm and tender, running through his hair, smoothing away the hurt in a way that felt both familiar and safe.

It was dark for a long time, a silence that hung in the air like an oppressive weight. But even in that darkness, Anastasius could hear fragments of life around him. He could hear the comforting hum of his papa’s voice, low and steady, singing him lullabies. The words were soft, but they held so much love, so much hope. “I’ll fix everything,” Veritas would whisper, and despite the ache in his chest, Anastasius felt a small glimmer of peace. He could hear his papa’s promises, even if he couldn’t fully grasp them.

Then there was Kakavasha. He could hear the soft, rhythmic sound of his dad’s breathing, the way his footsteps moved quietly, as though trying not to disturb the fragile silence. Anastasius could feel the cool touch of his dad’s fingers through his hair, the calming presence that came with it. Sometimes, he would tell him stories—stories of their homeland, of places he had never seen but longed to understand. Other times, he would whisper songs in their mother tongue, melodies that seemed to float in the air, soothing and foreign yet oddly comforting.

Anastasius wanted to cry. He wanted to reach out, to tell them that he could feel it, feel the love that surrounded him even in the darkness. But his body wouldn’t respond. All he could do was lie there, helpless, as they stayed by his side.

They loved him. They hadn’t abandoned him. Even when he had been broken, when he felt like a burden, they were still there. They were with him. And that thought—more than anything—was enough to make his heart swell.

Chapter Text

Veritas was not a violent man by nature. He preferred calculated words over brute force, diplomacy over chaos. But even he could admit—some people only understood pain. And sometimes, to make a point stick, you had to speak in blood.

The man on the ground screamed as he tried to crawl away, dragging his wounded leg behind him. Veritas, calm as ever, let out a soft sigh and reloaded his gun with a practiced click. Then, without hesitation, he fired again—this time into the man’s other leg, clean through the muscle, avoiding anything fatal.

Another scream tore from the man's throat before he crumpled into sobs. “Please! We didn’t know!” he cried, desperation leaking from every word as he twisted to face Veritas. His face drained of color when he saw the look on Veritas’s face—or maybe it was the lack of expression that terrified him.

“You are lying,” Veritas said flatly, voice devoid of warmth. “I have only got so many limbs I can shoot without killing you. So just tell me—where are they storing the blood?”

The man opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air, trembling as he tried to speak but found nothing came out. Veritas frowned slightly. He was not being unreasonable. A clean trade—information for survival. Simple.

But still, the man cowered, shrinking into himself like a scolded dog. Veritas exhaled through his nose and shifted the barrel of the gun upward, pressing it gently to the man’s temple.

“Do you really have no value for your life?” he asked, almost with curiosity. “Because I assure you, I have no problem finding someone else who does.”

“It’s in the room hidden under the kitchen sink!” the man screamed, cracking under the pressure when he realized Veritas wasn’t bluffing. His voice was panicked, desperate, clinging to life.

Veritas raised an eyebrow, mildly intrigued. “How exactly does one access this hidden room?” he asked, tone as calm as if he were inquiring about tea.

“T-turn the faucet three times to the left,” the man slurred, his words beginning to lose shape as blood loss took its toll.

With a soft hum of acknowledgement, Veritas knelt and called on his healing abilities. Golden light pulsed gently from his hand, mending the shredded flesh with care that almost seemed contradictory to the earlier violence. In less than a minute, the man’s wounds were closed, though his body couldn’t quite keep up—he slumped forward, unconscious but alive.

Veritas stood, brushing invisible dust from his clothes with mild distaste. Thankfully, no blood had found its way onto his person. Still, ever the tidy one, he checked again just in case. Satisfied, he glanced down at the unconscious man.

He wasn’t cruel—just efficient. So, after a moment’s thought, Veritas grabbed a length of fabric from nearby and draped it over the man, tucking it around him to keep him from going into shock.

“He will live,” Veritas said to no one in particular, turning toward the door. “No physical scars, at least.”

As he stepped out, he let the door swing shut behind him with a soft click. The only thing the man would have to remember this by were the mental scars… and, hopefully, a newfound sense of caution.

Veritas had not expected the fire to spread. He had the situation under control—until that absolute imbecile of a man regained consciousness and, in a last pathetic burst of bravado, tried to shoot him while he was containing the flames. Veritas had dodged, of course, but the distraction was just enough for the fire to leap to the curtains.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Truly, idiocy is the most infectious disease,” he muttered, watching as the blaze devoured what was left of the hidden room.

Still, it was not a complete loss. No more samples of his son’s blood remained in circulation. Every vile, every twisted remnant of their cruelty—gone. Despite everything that had happened and everything everyone had been telling him, how he’d never recover it all, in the end Veritas had won the war.

When Anastasius woke up, it was like the world had remembered how to breathe again. Color bled back into everything, as if the universe itself had been holding its breath and finally dared to exhale.

Aventurine hadn’t wanted to admit how gray everything had felt in the days Anastasius lay still. To say it out loud would’ve been admitting defeat, admitting just how deeply the boy had carved himself into his heart.

Veritas had been the first to reach him, of course. He’d wrapped Anastasius in his arms like he was something precious and breakable, fussing over him with unrestrained love. Aventurine had stood behind them, watching, smiling softly, biting back a sigh—not out of annoyance, but out of something warm and aching. Veritas deserved this relief. After all the pain and fear, he deserved to cling to their son and not let go.

The IPC had graciously ‘let’ Aventurine take time off while they scrambled to do their damage control, and he had absolutely no shame in milking that for all it was worth. Every second since, he’d been glued to Veritas’s side like a particularly lovesick magnet. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed his husband until now—how long it had been since they’d truly been together without a fire to put out, a threat to crush, or a child to mourn.

So yes, he was being clingy. Yes, he was soaking up Veritas’s attention like a starved thing. But Veritas hadn’t seemed to mind. If anything, he’d been more than indulgent, letting Aventurine hoard his affection without complaint, even when Aventurine knew how much Veritas treasured his solitude.

As for Anastasius… Aventurine hadn’t wanted to admit how much he’d missed him. He hadn’t even realized how big the boy’s absence had grown in his chest until he saw him again—awake, breathing, alive. Aventurine had been the first to say it aloud once, that Anastasius was theirs, was his, but in his heart, there’d always been this little disconnect, this lingering distance he hadn’t known how to close. He blamed work, stress, life—but now he knew none of that mattered.

Not after what he’d seen.

Not after he’d seen his son still and lifeless on that operation table. Not after the sleepless nights hunting the bastards responsible. Not after all those hours spent sitting quietly in that sterile hospital room, telling Anastasius stories from their homeland, pretending the boy could hear him just to keep from breaking down.

No. He couldn’t lie to himself, not anymore.

He loved him.

Maybe it didn’t feel like the same wild, all-consuming devotion he had for Veritas—but it didn’t have to. It was quieter, steadier. It had grown over time, wrapped itself around him before he noticed. But now he did.

Anastasius was his son.

And he would burn the world down if anyone tried to hurt him again.

It was warm. That was the first thing Anastasius noticed—how warm his dad was. Safe and strong and familiar, even after everything. He clung to him like a little koala, face tucked into the crook of his neck, heart thumping softly with happiness instead of fear for the first time in a long while.

The apple slices had been crunchy and sweet, his papa had cut them just the way he liked—with the skin peeled and little smiley faces carved into one or two for good luck. Veritas had been fussing nonstop, adjusting his blanket, checking his temperature three times even though he felt fine, and brushing his hair back like he was made of glass.

But Anastasius didn’t mind. It was nice, actually. Being loved this loudly.

He’d been scared the first day he woke up, afraid they might be mad or tired of him or think he was broken. But neither of them had let go of him for even a second. Papa had cried a little. Dad had kissed his forehead so much he thought he’d have a permanent kiss-mark.

Now, as they finally left the hospital behind, with all its strange smells and terrifying memories, he felt light—like he could breathe again. His dad had carried him without even hesitating, ignoring the offered wheelchair completely. And when papa didn’t scold him, just gave that fondly exasperated eye roll and told him not to drop his son, Anastasius had giggled.

And then—his dad had said it. I love you. I’m so glad you’re awake.

Anastasius’s throat had gone all tight. He’d hugged him back with all the strength he could manage and whispered, “I love you too, dad.”

He didn’t care if they were still technically in the hospital parking lot, or if the nurse had just waved goodbye through the glass doors. He had his dads. He was going home.

And for the first time in a long time… everything felt right.

Veritas had clearly put a lot of thought into this—was the first thing Aventurine thought when they stepped into Anastasius’s room, now filled with all sorts of goodies and get well soon cards.

“My coworkers insisted I send their well wishes and gifts once he was out of the hospital,” Veritas explained, as Aventurine gently set their son down on the bed.

Anastasius lit up at the sight of all the new things in his room and was quick to dive into the gifts. He squealed when he pulled out a massive duck plushie, hugging it to his tiny chest with all the strength he had. The toy was nearly half his size. Aventurine chuckled and snapped a photo of the moment.

While he was distracted, Veritas slipped away and returned with something in his hands.

“I have another surprise,” Veritas said, holding out a gift box. Aventurine raised a curious brow and took it.

“What is it?” Anastasius asked excitedly from the bed, climbing up to sit beside him. Veritas settled on Aventurine’s right, while Anastasius scooted to his left to peer at the contents.

Aventurine unwrapped the box and found a scrapbook inside.

“Oooh,” Anastasius said in awe as Aventurine opened it.

The pages were filled with memories—pictures from Veritas and Aventurine’s early dates, their anniversaries, wedding, honeymoon. Then came photos from when Anastasius first entered their lives, and it was easy to see the transformation in him: how much healthier, happier he looked with time. The next section showcased their vacation in Thalassa.

Then… the pages ended.

Aventurine frowned slightly and glanced at Veritas, puzzled.

His husband gave a shy smile and reached under the bed, retrieving a much smaller box. Aventurine took it, curiosity growing. He opened the lid and pulled out what looked like a photo.

It took him a second to realize what he was seeing.

“We are expecting,” Veritas said softly, eyes shining with emotion.

Aventurine dropped everything onto the bed—much to Anastasius’s confusion—and scooped Veritas up into his arms.

“Ah—! You—!” Veritas laughed joyfully as Aventurine spun him around before crushing him into a deep embrace.

“You’re amazing,” Aventurine murmured, voice dripping with adoration.

“We are amazing,” Veritas corrected gently, kissing him sweetly.

Anastasius, still holding his plush duck to his chest, blinked at the scrapbook, the little box, and the way his dad was spinning his papa like they’d just won the lottery. He tilted his head.

“...Are we celebrating something?”

Veritas laughed, cheeks flushed as Aventurine finally set him down but refused to let go. Leaning in toward their son, he smiled softly.

“We are,” he said. “You are going to be a big brother.”

Anastasius froze. His mouth dropped open and he just stared. “Like… a real big brother?” he asked, eyes wide as saucers.

When Veritas nodded, and Aventurine looked at him with that smug, affectionate expression, Anastasius screamed.

“A baby!? I’m gonna have a baby sibling!?”

He launched himself at them, duck plush still in hand, colliding with all the force of a child with no sense of restraint. “That so cool!! I am gonna be the best big brother ever!! I share my toys! I even share Duckie!” He held up the plush like it was a grand offering.

Veritas kissed the top of his head, laughing. “I think they would like that very much.”

Aventurine crouched beside them, mist gathering in his eyes. He reached out and gently brushed Anastasius’s hair back. “You already are the best, little star. And they’re going to be so lucky to have you.”

Anastasius beamed, hugging Duckie tightly. “I’m the luckiest. I have you two.”

And just like that, the little room—already full of gifts and cards and warmth—felt even fuller. Like love had overflowed the walls and spilled into everything.

Chapter Text

Veritas was hungry.

He’d tried to sleep it off, tossing and turning under the covers, but the hunger only worsened. It was humiliating, how close he was to tears.

Realistically, he knew pregnancy cravings were normal—just his body’s way of asking for what it needed to keep the baby alive. But still. It was embarrassing.

He bit his lip and reached for his phone.

2:47 a.m.

Golden honeycakes. Gods, he would kill for golden honeycakes with dried sagelore fruit.

He glanced at his sleeping husband, then back at the glowing screen.

2:48 a.m.

Veritas stared at the numbers like they’d personally insulted him. His stomach gave an undignified growl. He winced.

Kakavasha was still asleep—peaceful, serene, completely unaware that his spouse was on the brink of a full-blown breakdown over pastry.

Veritas flopped back dramatically, groaning into the pillow. This was ridiculous. He was fine. He didn’t need to wake his husband just because he was craving something absurdly specific.

He was a grown adult. A powerful being. A dignified entity capable of commanding awe and fear.

…But he was also so hungry.

He picked up the phone again. 2:49 a.m.

Okay. He’d give it until 2:50. If the craving vanished, he’d move on. Forget it ever happened.

If it didn’t... well.

He turned to look at Kakavasha again, gaze full of tragic longing.

2:50 a.m.

He nudged him. Gently. Barely a tap. Feather-light, really.

Kakavasha didn’t move.

Veritas hesitated—then nudged him again, a little more insistently.

A faint noise of protest. One eye cracked open. “...What’s wrong?” Kakavasha murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

Veritas met his gaze, unflinching. “I want honeycakes.”

A pause.

“…Now?”

A solemn nod. “With dried sagelore fruit.”

Kakavasha blinked. Then—much to Veritas’s horror—smiled. A slow, sleepy, far-too-fond smile.

“Gods, I love you,” he mumbled, already sitting up.

Veritas nearly cried. “You don’t have to—”

“Honeycakes,” Kakavasha said, rising like a man on a holy quest. “And sagelore fruit. Got it.”

Veritas watched him shuffle off to the kitchen, heart swelling with a nauseating cocktail of emotions. Embarrassment. Gratitude. And love—so much love it nearly drowned him.

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself like a cocoon and whispered under his breath,

“…I’m going to marry him again for this.”

Aventurine liked watching Veritas eat.

Pause. That sounded creepy—but it was true.

He used to think people were exaggerating about the whole pregnancy glow thing. But low and behold, Veritas was glowing.

His cheeks were round and full now, a soft contrast to the sharper angles of his face. He’d grown squishier, curvier in all the right places, and Aventurine could barely keep his hands to himself.

“Must you watch me eat?” Veritas asked, pouting as he took another bite of his honeycakes.

Aventurine beamed at him, utterly unrepentant. He leaned in and kissed both of Veritas’s cheeks—because frankly, that was the least inappropriate thing he could get away with without getting smacked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he cooed.

Veritas flushed red and looked away, grumbling under his breath, but Aventurine caught the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips.

Anastasius was having so much fun coloring on the wall!

His friends had told him their parents never let them do that, but Veritas said this was a special occasion.

“Careful, darling,” Veritas said softly, painting beside him. “Do try to stay within the lines.”

Anastasius grinned, focused on his masterpiece. He was helping paint the walls for the baby’s room!

Him and Kakavasha had picked the color themselves—after getting Veritas’s approval, of course—so now the room was a soft, cozy blue.

Anastasius dipped his paintbrush into the yellow paint. He was going to finish the little duck Veritas had drawn. That was their system. Veritas did the drawing, and Anastasius got to color it in.

As he painted, he listened to Veritas humming a gentle tune.

“What song is that?” Anastasius asked, curiosity tugging at his voice.

Veritas paused his painting, his brush hovering mid-stroke. His shoulders went rigid for a moment before he eased them again.

“That was a song my mother used to sing to me when I was young,” he said quietly, resuming his careful brushwork.

“Your Mama?” Anastasius tilted his head, curiosity blooming on his face. He hadn’t realized Veritas had a mama too. “So… Grandma?”

He blinked in thought. He’d never met his birth grandma—Papa never talked about her, or really anyone from before—so the idea of suddenly having a grandma was a strange one.

“Mhm. I suppose so,” Veritas murmured. “You’ve met her, actually.”

Anastasius furrowed his brow. “I did?”

“She was the purple-haired lady who came to visit, early in your stay here.”

Anastasius’s face twisted in confusion. “The mean lady?”

Veritas laughed softly. “She was quite mean, wasn’t she?”

Anastasius couldn’t help but pout. He’d always thought grandmas were supposed to be nice. All his friends’ grandmas were—sure, they pinched his cheeks a lot, but they also made him amazing cookies.

“Why the long face?” Veritas asked, glancing over with amused curiosity.

“I want a nice grandma,” Anastasius whined.

Veritas paused, then burst into warm, genuine laughter. “Oh, you sweet child.”

He set down his paintbrush and leaned in, cupping Anastasius’s cheeks gently. His touch was cool and careful, like he was holding something precious.

“And what brought that thought up?” he asked, smiling.

Anastasius leaned greedily into Veritas’s touch—a habit he’d definitely picked up from Kakavasha.

He nestled himself against Veritas’s chest, careful not to press against his pregnant belly. The steady rise and fall of Veritas’s breathing was soothing, and Anastasius let out a quiet huff.

“All my friends’ grandmas are nice. I thought grandmas were supposed to be sweet and make cookies,” he grumbled.

Veritas let out a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Some of them are,” he murmured. “But not all.”

They stayed like that for a while, warmth and silence wrapped around them like a blanket. Then, shyly, Anastasius asked, “Could you keep humming that song you were singing?”

Veritas smiled, resting his chin lightly on Anastasius’s head. And then he began to hum again—soft, low, and full of memory.

Veritas was tired.

He loved his baby—truly, deeply—but he was so ready for them to get out of him.

He and Kakavasha had decided not to find out the baby's gender, preferring to be surprised. A whimsical idea, at the time. Now? Veritas looked down at his belly, swollen and unmoving. He was due any day now, but the stubborn child refused to budge.

As sticky as their father. Veritas sighed fondly.

“We still haven’t settled on a name,” he said offhandedly as they all lounged on the living room couch, watching the children’s movie Anastasius had picked.

“Why not Crystal?” Kakavasha offered playfully.

“We are not naming our child after a rock,” Veritas replied flatly, instantly shutting it down.

“We should name her Rosie!” Anastasius chimed in, beaming. Veritas kept his expression neutral, though he was pretty sure the name came from a duck in that overly cheerful kid’s show Anastasius loved.

Kakavasha, ever the enabler, laughed. “Rosie is adorable. That’s a perfect name.”

Veritas’s eye twitched. “Maybe not. And let’s keep things neutral—we don’t know the gender yet.”

That finally made Kakavasha thoughtful. “How about Aster? It means star.”

Veritas paused, genuinely considering it.

But then Anastasius looked up at him with big, soft doe eyes. “I thought I was your star?”

Veritas melted instantly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You will always be my star.”

“Yeah, buddy. Always our little star,” Kakavasha added, pulling them both into a warm embrace.

Anastasius snuggled sleepily between them. “Can we name them Kai?”

“Kai?” Kakavasha echoed, intrigued.

Anastasius nodded. “It means sea, I think.”

“It does,” Veritas said gently. “But what made you think of it?”

Anastasius yawned. “Back in Thalassa, some kids were talking about a naming ceremony after the festival. They were yelling out names. I just… liked how Kai sounded.”

Veritas and Kakavasha exchanged a look over Anastasius’s head—one full of quiet understanding and affection.

“Kai,” Veritas repeated softly. “It’s a good name.”

“It really is,” Kakavasha murmured.

Veritas cursed him out in yet another language Aventurine didn’t recognize, and Aventurine accepted it with a bemused smile.

The baby had finally decided to make an appearance—fashionably late, a few days past their due date. Veritas had grown more irritable with each passing hour, a ticking time bomb of discomfort, frustration, and sheer spite.

And then, on a warm summer afternoon, their child finally chose violence.

Veritas let out another furious string of unintelligible curses as he pushed.

“You’re doing great, honey!” Aventurine encouraged brightly.

“I will castrate you so your vile bloodline dies with this stupid child!” Veritas snapped back through gritted teeth.

Aventurine couldn’t help but laugh. He was completely, irrevocably in love.

The sound of a baby crying filled the room, and Veritas felt himself begin to relax. The pain hadn’t vanished, but the worst of it was dulled by the medications they’d administered to him.

He sighed, sinking deeper into the bed as he adjusted his position. Once the nurses had wiped the baby down, they placed the small, wriggling bundle into his arms.

“Welcome to the world, baby Kai,” Kakavasha murmured from beside him, voice thick with awe. He leaned in and kissed Veritas’s forehead. “You did so well, love.”

Veritas let out a soft, exhausted breath and nuzzled Kai. He’d heard people say newborns had a strangely addictive scent—and as he inhaled, he realized the rumors were absolutely true.

“Welcome to the world, Kai,” he whispered. “Our ocean child.”

Anastasius loved Kai—a lot. They looked just like their parents, with Veritas’s eyes and Kakavasha’s hair, and in Anastasius’s opinion, they were the best baby sibling anyone could ever ask for.

Kai was still too little to play, but that didn’t stop Anastasius. He made it his personal mission to read all his favorite bedtime stories to them—plus a few extras for good measure.

Kai seemed to love it, too. They always gurgled happily whenever Anastasius read to them, like they understood every word.

“They seem just as enchanted by you as you are by them,” Veritas had said once, watching them with a fond smile.

Two years ago, Anastasius could never have imagined that his papa would abandon him. Two years ago, he could never have imagined that anyone would help him. Two years ago, he could never have imagined that he’d be adopted. 

Two years ago, he could never have imagined that he’d have a family again.

Two years ago, he never would’ve believed he could be this happy.

But he was.

He was free. He was loved. And he couldn’t wait to see what the future had in store.

Whatever it was, he knew one thing for certain—he wouldn’t have to face it alone.