Emperor Zyron held onto his daughter's hand a moment longer than strict decorum called for, as though letting go too soon might undo the fragile miracle standing before him.
When he finally released her hand, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, some of his imperial bearing sliding back into place, though the warmth in his eyes still lingered.
"There is a court presentation that you need to prepare for." he said, glancing at his four sons, still crowded protectively around Zaiveil's bed, "For now, I believe your brothers have been waiting for such a long time to show you the palace properly."
"Finally," Zyver said, practically vibrating out of his chair. "Can we take her to the gardens first? Or the training grounds? Or maybe in–"
"One thing at a time," Herox said, though even his composed voice carried an eagerness he didn't bother hiding.
Zyron chuckled, a rare, unguarded sound came from him then pressed a kiss to the crown of Zaiveil's head before departing, leaving his children to their own company.
---
The morning unfolded in a way Zaiveil had never once imagined for herself.
Heriot led the way through the palace corridors with the loose, confident stride of someone who'd grown up sprinting down them, pointing out portraits of long-dead ancestors and muttering commentary under his breath.
While Zyver trailed behind, occasionally darting off to grab some trinket or artifact he insisted she needed to see immediately.
"This is a failed batch of Vitality Bloom Pill. Don't drink it. I only wanted to show you the color, isn't it lovely? It took me four tries to get that particular shade of blue." Zyver said, thrusting a small glowing vial into her hands as they passed the edge of the alchemy wing, "
"You carry failed potions in your pockets?" Zaiveil asked, turning the vial carefully in her fingers.
"Only the pretty ones."
"That's kinda concerning."
"Little Sis, that was alchemy!" Zyver said, wounded, and Heriot's bark of laughter echoed down the corridor.
They walked through sun-drenched hallways until they reached a wide courtyard garden, fragrant with blooming starflowers that seemed to glow faintly even in daylight.
Herox slowed his pace beside her, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture Zaiveil was beginning to recognize as his version of being at ease.
"Mother used to bring us here," he said quietly, "when we were small. She'd tell us stories about the stars while we waited for news about you. Every year on your birthday, she planted something new." He gestured to a cluster of silver-petaled flowers near the fountain. "Those were planted the year you turned ten."
Zaiveil knelt beside the flowers, brushing her fingers gently over one delicate petal. Eighteen years of a mother's hope, planted quietly into soil, growing patiently toward a daughter who hadn't known she existed before, a daughter who would have never thought that she had a family to call.
"I don't know what to do with all of this," she admitted softly. "Eighteen years of waiting. Waiting for my return without even knowing if I could really be back."
Zyrcus settled onto the fountain's edge beside her, his voice gentle. "You don't have to do anything. Just let it exist. We're not expecting you to catch up on eighteen years in a single morning."
"That's what Mother said too."
"Because it's true," Heriot said, dropping unceremoniously onto the grass nearby, sprawling with none of Herox's careful posture. "Besides, you've got the rest of your life to make up for it. There's no rush, little sis."
Zyver flopped down beside him, already looking through his space pockets for something else to show her, this time what appeared to be a small mechanical bird that chirped weakly before sputtering out. "Still working on that one," he admitted sheepishly.
Zaiveil didn't know that a sudden smile hung on her lips. All her four brothers went still at the sight, staring at her with matching expressions of wonder.
"What?" she asked, self-conscious under the sudden attention.
"Nothing," Zyrcus said, though his smile said otherwise. "You just look so happy. That's all."
Zaiveil looked down at the silver flowers, then out at her brothers sprawled around the fountain in various states of dignity and undignified sprawl, and felt something settle warmly beneath her ribs.
'Happy? What was that word for?'
"I have to get used to this," she said quietly, and the words seemed to please her brothers more than anything else she'd said all morning.
After exploring the palace and the favorite garden of their mother.
By midday, Eunuch Reyon found them in the gardens, his composed expression carrying the particular urgency of a man with a schedule to keep.
"Your Highness," he said, bowing to Zaiveil, "the Empress requests your presence. The court awaits your formal presence this afternoon, and there is a preparation to be ready for."
Herox rose immediately, brushing grass from his robes with practiced efficiency. "That would be our cue to disappear before Mother assigns us to help," he said dryly. "We have to go, Zai, cause I know you don't want four opinions on the dress or hair pins that you're gonna wear."
"You say that as though your opinion on my hair pins wasn't extremely strong five minutes ago," Zyver muttered while they are slowly walking away
Zaiveil allowed herself to be herded back toward her chambers, Zyrcus lingered for a long while, squeezing her hand once before letting go.
"You'll do fine," he said simply. "Just be yourself. That's more than enough."
–––
This time Zaiveil stood before the tall mirror in her chamber once more.
The servants moved around her with practiced efficiency, fastening layers of pale lavender silk embroidered with faint constellation patterns that shimmered faintly when the light caught them.
The fabric was lighter than anything she'd worn before as the Crosantas' heiress, it was softer, though it settled over her shoulders with an unfamiliar weight all its own.
"You're being formally presented to the clan elders and the royal court this afternoon," Hernia said, watching the transformation from her chair near the window. "First impressions matter, my princess, that's why we need to dress you up as the prettiest."
'Princess.' The word still landed strangely, like a coat cut for someone else's shoulders.
Zaiveil caught her reflection and went still. The girl staring back looked nothing like 'Phantom', the assassin she was once before.
Her silver-violet hair had been swept into an elegant twist, small crystalline pins glinting like captured starlight. She looked delicate. There's a hint of royalty in her aura.
"I don't know how to be a proper princess, Mother." she admitted quietly.
"I know how to disappear into a crowd, I know how to read a room for exits and threats that could endanger my life. But I don't know how to be seen, I don't know how to act properly as a princess. I'm clueless about something like this."
Hernia's hands settled gently on her daughter's shoulders, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Then we'll learn together, step by step. No one expects you to master eighteen years of absence in a single afternoon." Her voice softened further. "You don't need perfect etiquette to belong here. You only need to be yourself. I saw that self today, in the gardens. Your brothers couldn't stop talking about it."
A knock sounded at the door before Zaiveil could respond, and Reyon stepped inside, bowing low.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness. The clan elders and everyone have assembled in the Grand Receiving Hall. The court is waiting for you both."
Zaiveil felt something tighten in her chest, it's not fear, but close enough to recognize its shape. Still, she thought of Zyrcus's steady voice in the garden.
'Just be yourself. That's more than enough.'