CHAPTER 92: THE RIGHTS!

[Rynthall Estate, Next Morning]

The double doors burst open with a gust of floral perfume and drama.

"Ohhhh my sweet cupcake Elysiaaa!" Seraphina sang as she waltzed into the chamber like a glittering storm. Her arms flailed toward the little bundle in Lucien’s lap. "Come to your stunning, amazing, absolutely radiant auntieee!"

Before Lucien could blink, Elysia was swept up into her arms.

"My sweet little sugar drop, did you miss your dearest aunty? Huh? Your glorious, beautiful, breathtaking Aunt Seraphina?" she cooed, spinning around in a dramatic twirl, skirts flaring, and curls bouncing.

Elysia squealed in delight, her chubby hands waving wildly, giggling with pure glee from the twirl.

But then—

Whoosh!

Elysia was snatched right out of Seraphina’s arms.

Seraphina stopped mid-spin, froze in place, and stared down at her suddenly empty arms as if someone had just stolen her soul.

"...What the—"

Her eyes slowly trailed up. And met with a pair of sharp, icy red eyes glaring down at her.

"Who..." she began, blinking. "Who is this wrinkly, glaring old man?"

Theoran raised a brow, holding Elysia protectively in his arms, "Wrinkly?!" He scoffed, "Excuse you, twirling girl—I am still in my prime."

Seraphina’s brows furrowed. She squinted.

"Wait a second..."

Her gaze narrowed.

Her head tilted.

"...Why... why does he look so familiar?"

Lucien, already seeing the storm approaching, quietly sipped his tea and scooted away from the blast zone.

Seraphina’s eyes widened suddenly.

She pointed a trembling finger. And then, as if thunder cracked overhead, she screamed—

"IT’S—IT’S SILAS’ FATHER!!! HIS GHOST HAS RISEN! THE DEAD WALKS AMONG US—!"

Theoran nearly dropped Elysia.

"I AM VERY MUCH ALIVE, YOU DRAMATIC BANSHEE!"

Lucien choked on his tea. Seraphina shrieked and leapt back, hands thrown into the air like a priest before an exorcism.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME, SPIRIT! BACK TO THE SHADOWS FROM WHENCE YOU CAME—!"

"FOR THE LAST TIME—" Theoran bellowed, clutching Elysia like a precious treasure, "—I’M! NOT! DEAAAAAAD!"

Elysia giggled in his arms, completely unbothered by the noise, her chubby fingers smacking his cheeks as if encouraging more drama.

Lucien groaned and dragged a weary hand down his face. "...And so the day begins," he muttered like a man preparing for battle.

With great effort, he rose from the couch, straightened his robe, and walked toward Seraphina, who was still staring at Theoran like she’d seen a ghost rising from a coffin.

Lucien gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sera...he’s very much alive. Flesh, blood, beard, complaints, and all. Arrived just yesterday with all the thunder of a royal storm."

Seraphina blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then leaned close to Lucien and whispered, "Are you sure? Did anyone try stabbing him just to check?"

Lucien gave her a long-suffering look. "No, but trust me, he’s alive."

Seraphina’s eyes widened in realization. And then—

With the most dramatic flourish known to humankind, she bowed low and deep, flinging her arm out like a stage actress in a royal play."GREETINGS, MY LORD THEORAN. MAY YOUR UN-DEAD SOUL FIND PEACE—"

Theoran stared at her in horror.

"I TOLD YOU I’M ALIIIIIVE!" he thundered, bouncing Elysia in his arms.

Seraphina popped back up, giving him a sheepish grin.

"But just because you’ve risen from the grave doesn’t mean you can steal away my little cupcake!" She pointed accusingly at Elysia, who had taken a liking to Theoran’s beard and was now yanking it gleefully.

Theoran huffed, clutching the baby closer like a dragon guarding treasure."She is my granddaughter! The next generation heir of chaos! I have full custody to spoil her rotten!"

Seraphina gasped. "Full custody?! I wiped her drool ten times for twenty-two minutes straight! That earns me at least part-time custody!"

"She drooled on me yesterday too!" Theoran barked back, puffing out his chest proudly.

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we not argue over who she drooled on the most—?"

Seraphina stepped closer, finger wagging. "Give her back, you overgrown royal raisin!"

Theoran narrowed his eyes. "Touch her, and I’ll declare war on the Kingdom of Overdramatic Aunts."

"Oh, bring it on, you bearded fossil!"

Elysia shrieked with laughter in the middle, blissfully enjoying being the center of the tug-of-war.

Lucien stared between the two and muttered under his breath, "...I should’ve stayed in bed."

"I HAVE MORE RIGHTS!" Seraphina declared, dramatically flipping her hair and jabbing a finger at Theoran. "More rights, more hugs, and more glittery affection! I practically bathed her in kisses as a baby!"

Theoran’s eyes narrowed, his royal pride offended. "I HAVE GRANDFATHER RIGHTS! She carries my bloodline, my legacy—my unparalleled good looks!"

"You—!" Seraphina huffed, taking a threatening step forward.

"You—!" Theoran countered, mirroring her move like a dramatic fencing duel.

But before either could launch into their next operatic round, Lucien walked forward like Death himself—calm, quiet, and entirely done.

Without a word, he plucked Elysia from Theoran’s arms.

The toddler blinked in surprise—then cooed sweetly as Lucien hoisted her up like the most tired father in all the realms.

"I made her," Lucien said flatly. "With actual effort. And she literally came out of me."

Seraphina and Theoran both paused—blinking in sync—as if reality had just slapped them.

"So, unless either of you carried her for nine months, vomited for three of them, lost sleep for six, and was bitten during breastfeeding," Lucien continued, walking away as Elysia babbled happily on his shoulder, "you don’t get to debate rights."

He didn’t even glance back as he muttered under his breath, "We’re going to change your diaper now, sweetheart. From royalty to reality..."

Elysia gurgled in agreement.

There was a long silence.

Seraphina looked at her now-empty arms with a forlorn gasp. "He... he just stole her."

Theoran sighed deeply, as if he had lost a battle and his kingdom in one go. "...He pulled the parental trump card. Unfair."

Then Seraphina turned to him and smirked, "Still... did you hear him? He gave birth. He said he vomited for three months."

Theoran blinked.

"...Maybe I am dead and this is some twisted afterlife," he muttered.

Seraphina cackled and skipped after Lucien. "Wait! I’m coming! I’ll bring the royal baby powder!"

Theoran stood there for a beat longer, hands on hips, watching them disappear down the hallway.

"...young people these days," he mumbled. "No respect for the young old people like me."

And with a dramatic sigh, he too followed, muttering something about reclaiming his honor—and possibly Elysia’s other sock.

***

[Elysia’s Nursery]

Lucein gently patted Elysia’s back as she lay curled up in her crib, her little fists tucked beneath her cheek and her dark lashes resting like feathers on her soft skin. She looked like a cherub sculpted in divine mischief—peaceful only because she had tired herself out waging a kingdom’s worth of chaos.

Seraphina leaned her chin on Lucein’s shoulder, sighing dreamily. "She’s soooo adorable... just like me."

Lucein gave her a long look. "She cries less than you."

Seraphina gasped, swatted his arm, and grinned. "Excuse you, I was a delightful baby. Ask mother."

He smirked and shook his head. "Sure you were. A delightful siren with lungs forged in hellfire."

She fluffed her curls proudly. "Royal lungs. There’s a difference."

Lucein chuckled softly, still gazing at his daughter, brushing a lock of black hair from her forehead. "...How’s Aunt and Uncle?" he asked.

Seraphina shrugged, settling on the edge of a velvet armchair. "They miss you. Desperately. mother keeps complaining that the manor’s gotten ’eerily silent and tragically tidy’ without you around."

He raised a brow. "Tragically tidy?"

"She said that. Verbatim."

Lucein snorted. "Sounds about right."

Seraphina grinned, then reached out and tickled Elysia’s tiny foot gently. "You should come stay with us for ten—no, at least six months. Minimum. You and Elysia. It’ll be like a holiday... but with more screaming."

Lucein gave a wry smile. "Silas will camp outside your estate with a siege banner."

"Let him. He can sleep on the rose bushes. I’m not scared of that lovesick lunatic," she huffed.

"I am," Lucein deadpanned.

Seraphina burst into laughter, then quieted down as Lucein’s gaze softened, eyes distant now, distant and shadowed by something unspoken.

"...Can I ask you something?" he said suddenly, voice quieter than usual.

She looked up, a little startled by the shift in tone. "Oh. Of course."

He kept his eyes on Elysia. "How many years did Aunt Isodore raise me?"

Seraphina blinked. "Um... let me think..." She drummed her fingers on her chin. "You came to our estate after... after your parents... died, right?"

Lucein blinked, "Oh."

She frowned, counting in her head. "It was when you were about ten, I think. Just turned, maybe? It was winter. You hated the cold. Wore that ridiculous blue scarf even in summer."

But Lucein wasn’t listening anymore. His thoughts had drifted.

So the real Lucien’s parents died when he was ten...He looked at Elysia, his hand now resting gently over her tiny chest, feeling her heartbeat like a whisper against his palm.Guess... whether I’m Souta Tachibana or Lucein D’Armoire... we both lost our parents.

Seraphina tilted her head. "Why are you asking?" she asked gently.

He didn’t answer at first. Just looked at her. Then back at Elysia."...Just."

Seraphina stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if peering through him, trying to read between the cracks he tried so hard to keep sealed.

"Are you... missing them?" she asked finally, voice softer than before.

Lucein looked away, back at the crib, his fingers tightening slightly over Elysia’s blanket.

"I don’t know..." he murmured. "...Maybe."

And for a brief moment, the room was still—quiet and heavy with memories and names unsaid.