Valeryon rested securely in her guardian's arms as they made their way through the labyrinthine corridors of the palatial residence.
Towering pillars upheld vaulted ceilings that vanished into shadow high above. Intricate bas-relief carvings unfolded along the walls, more than mere ornamentation. Every meticulously carved panel preserved a chronicle of her clan's history, recounting defining moments since their arrival in this world.
As they ventured deeper into the residence, the grandeur gradually receded.
Beneath their feet, polished marble gave way to broad flagstones worn smooth by countless generations. Carved pillars became plain square supports. Sweeping reliefs diminished into simple geometric borders before disappearing altogether, leaving only bare stone walls.
Eventually, they reached a broad staircase descending deep into the heart of the complex. At its foot lay a final corridor ending before an immense pair of arched doors fashioned from dark, timeworn timber and reinforced with broad iron bands dulled by age.
The handles had been cast in the likeness of ascending phoenixes. Each bird clutched a flowering sprig of asphodel in its talons, while tiny peridots set into their eyes caught the dim light, gleaming with watchful emerald fire.
Her guardian approached the low wooden bench beside the entrance.
Without haste, she shifted Valeryon into the crook of one arm, removed her shoes, and placed them neatly beneath the bench. She smoothed the folds of her plain black robe, closed her eyes for the briefest moment, and drew a slow, measured breath.
Only then did she grasp the handles.
The great doors resisted at first, their immense weight evident beneath her steady push. Slowly, they swung inward, their hinges releasing a deep groan that reverberated through the corridor.
After they crossed the threshold, the doors swung shut under their own weight, meeting with a muted thud.
The hall beyond was vast.
Massive timber beams spanned the ceiling high overhead. Bronze chandeliers hung between them, bathing the polished wooden floor in warm amber light. Wisps of incense drifted from discreet wall recesses, carrying the faint fragrance of cedar and myrrh.
Every line of the chamber drew the eye toward its far end.
There, suspended from ceiling to floor, hung an immense tapestry that dominated the hall.
At first glance, its design appeared almost austere.
A single golden circle.
Only upon closer inspection did its true complexity become apparent.
The circle was composed of countless concentric rings, each embroidered with names and dates so finely woven they resembled texture rather than script.
It was a genealogical record.
At its centre stood a single name, rendered in heavier gold thread than all the others.
King Valeryon.
From that solitary origin, each successive generation radiated outward like the growth rings of an ancient tree.
Valeryon's gaze drifted across the expanding circles.
The innermost generations were densely woven, their names packed so closely together they nearly merged into one another. Farther from the centre, however, the inscriptions became increasingly sparse.
Along the outer rings, despite their ever-widening circumference, only scattered names remained, each separated by vast expanses of iridescent black silk.
Her guardian gently adjusted her hold and turned Valeryon toward the tapestry's edge.
"There," she whispered.
Valeryon found it almost immediately.
Isolated upon the outermost ring, separated from every other name by a vast gulf of untouched silk, gleamed a single inscription.
Valeryon II
Beneath it, stitched in finer gold thread, were the details of her birth.
Era: Post-Hunt
Year: 1824
Month: Ostara
Day: 33
P.H. 33/02/1824
The unfamiliar notation undoubtedly belonged to this world's calendar.
"Valeryon the Second," her guardian murmured, giving each syllable deliberate weight. "What an extraordinary honour, Your Highness. Since King Valeryon himself, no heir has ever borne that name."
She inclined her head in a formal bow.
"Lady Daphne Vesalius greets Her Highness, Crown Princess Valeryon the Second."
Valeryon pursed her lips, uncertain what to make of it.
She had prepared herself for this possibility, even convinced herself that she had accepted it. Yet some small, stubborn part of her had continued to hope her suspicions were unfounded.
It was not as though her position in this world had ever been a secret. From the very beginning, her guardian, Lady Daphne, had never addressed her by name.
Not once.
Always Your Highness.
Always Princess.
Until now.
At first, Valeryon had assumed it was merely a matter of protocol.
Now she understood.
Lady Daphne had been waiting.
Waiting until her name was formally recorded among her ancestors, revealed by whatever obscure magic governing the tapestry.
The realisation stirred memories she would rather have left buried.
The Trial Grounds.
The endless Cycles.
The endless deaths.
A life in which she had possessed neither lineage nor inheritance. No identity beyond a numerical designation.
Her gaze returned to the solitary name upon the tapestry's outer edge.
Beyond it lay only empty silk.
A future yet unwritten.
Somehow, she could already feel its weight settling upon her shoulders, heavier than it had ever been before.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Later, when she finally found a quiet moment to herself, and the distracting burning sensation that had lingered in her chest since the revelation of her name had eased somewhat, Valeryon's thoughts drifted back to Lady Daphne's introduction.
Something about it had stayed with her, like a splinter lodged beneath the skin, impossible to ignore or remove.
Vesalius.
Was that not the surname her guardian had given her?
Vesalius…
She turned the name over in her mind again and again until, at last, a memory rose to the surface.
Laurel Vesalius.
It could have been nothing more than coincidence. Vesalius might simply be a common family name in this world.
And yet, could such a perfectly aligned coincidence truly exist?
Combined with the infant's unmistakable amethyst eyes and familiar dimples, it only strengthened the suspicion that had been quietly growing within her since the day they met.
Until now, her suspicions had remained largely speculative rather than conclusive. The resemblance was too limited, resting almost entirely on those two familiar features.
The boy she remembered had possessed honey-blond hair and a darker complexion. This child, however, had inherited Lady Daphne's snowy white hair and porcelain skin. Without those defining traits, he resembled the Laurel she knew only in scattered fragments, more like a distant relative than the same person.
However, with the shared surname now added to the evidence before her, Valeryon now had grounds to believe that her initial suspicions held considerably more merit than before.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
The passage of time felt agonisingly slow.
Each night, after Lady Daphne tucked her into bed and withdrew for the evening, confident that her young charge had already fallen asleep, Valeryon remained awake beneath the blankets, quietly practising her pronunciation.
Night after night, she patiently trained a tongue and throat that had yet to fully develop. Sounds that once felt awkward and unfamiliar were repeated again and again until they became smoother, more natural.
Only when she was certain she could pronounce his name correctly did she resolve to speak it.
That opportunity arrived during a quiet afternoon in the nursery.
Lady Daphne sat beside the tall windows, warm sunlight spilling across her and making her pale hair and eyes glow silver. Her fingers moved steadily as she worked on her embroidery, each stitch placed with effortless precision.
Nearby, Valeryon sat across from the purple-eyed boy on a thick woven carpet.
Neither cared much for the primitive toys scattered between them. Every so often, one of them would idly nudge a wooden block or roll a carved animal across the floor before abandoning it moments later. More often, they simply existed in companionable silence.
Today seemed destined to be no different.
The boy leaned back against a cushion.
His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.
Valeryon's heart began to pound.
She had delayed this moment countless times already. There was no reason she could not wait a little longer.
Yet she feared that if she let this chance slip away, she might never summon the courage again.
Before doubt could overtake her, she drew a careful breath.
"Laurel?"
The word escaped as little more than a whisper.
The effect was immediate.
The boy's eyes snapped open.
The drowsiness vanished from his face as though it had never been there.
The drowsiness vanished from his face as though it had never existed. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the cushion and sat upright, his gaze fixed entirely on her.
The room seemed to fall away around them.
"...Val?"
Valeryon gave the smallest nod.
The nickname was unexpected, but perhaps it should not have been. Expecting a child who had only just begun speaking to pronounce a name like hers perfectly would have been unreasonable.
However, she had been right.
It really was him.
Somehow, Laurel had entered this world alongside her from the very beginning.
Was it because they had formed a team before arriving? Had proximity to teammates been part of the arrangement?
Before she could dwell on it further, Laurel slowly crawled across the carpet. His movements were clumsy and unsteady, as expected from a child still learning how to control his body.
When he finally reached her, only a narrow space remained between them.
For a long moment, he simply looked at her.
Then, with an expression she could not quite read, he lifted one small hand and placed it gently against her cheek.
"Val," he whispered again.
The solemn expression she had grown accustomed to melted away, replaced by a dimpled smile.
His fingers were cool against her skin, yet the place where they rested felt strangely warm.
Eventually, Laurel shifted closer until he was pressed against her side. His body relaxed, as though some long-held tension had finally disappeared.
A short while later, his head slipped onto her shoulder.
His breathing gradually evened out.
Soon, light snores filled the silence between them.
A few moments later, Valeryon's own eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion from her sleepless nights finally catching up to her.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Laughter stirred her awake.
For a moment, Valeryon remained suspended between dream and reality. The warmth of sleep still clung to her, slowing her thoughts and making her surroundings feel distant and unfamiliar.
Her eyelids fluttered several times before she finally managed to open them.
The first thing she saw was Lady Daphne.
The older woman stood above them, one hand raised over her mouth in a futile attempt to conceal her amusement.
Then Lady Daphne spoke.
"Oh, my," she whispered, her voice carrying barely contained laughter. "Look at the two of you. Finally getting along."
Valeryon followed her gaze downward.
Beside her, Laurel remained completely unaware of the world around him. The young boy slept peacefully, his breathing slow and even, his hand wrapped tightly around hers.
Valeryon felt her face grow warm and attempted to withdraw her hand.
Unfortunately, the boy's grip was far stronger than she anticipated.
Lady Daphne released another quiet laugh.
"Well," she said warmly, "I suppose there is no helping it. We had better move you both somewhere comfortable. Sleeping on the floor is hardly suitable for either of you."
With practiced care, Daphne slipped one arm beneath Laurel and the other beneath Valeryon, lifting them both.
The movement disturbed the young boy.
Laurel stirred faintly, his expression tightening as his brows knitted together. His eyes remained closed, however, and after only a moment, his features relaxed once more.
"Goodness, I wonder what brought about such a change," she mused.
Her gaze lowered toward Valeryon.
"Not that I am complaining, Your Highness. Quite the opposite. It would bring me great joy to see the two of you grow close, just as our ancestors intended."
Her expression softened as she looked between them.
"For nearly a thousand years, House Vesalius has faithfully served House Valeryon. We have stood beside your family as its closest companions, advisors, and caretakers."
For Laurel belonged to a family so deeply entwined with her own in this world, could the Vesalius family perhaps exist in a similar capacity within the Origin as well?
Yet no matter how she searched her memories, she could recall no notable clan or family bearing that name in either Orcus or Draconis, the galaxy she suspected Laurel had originated from.
Then again, perhaps that was to be expected.
Laurel had deliberately chosen a world untouched by his predecessors.
Even if a House Vesalius existed somewhere within the Origin, the family standing beside the clan now would have developed along an entirely separate path. Removed from the influence of the Origin's variant, this world's Vesalius bloodline would have grown according to its own circumstances, shaped by its own choices and struggles.
Still, what events had forged such a relationship between their two Houses? What promises had their ancestors made that allowed them to entrust their heirs to this family, generation after generation?
Whatever the answer was, Valeryon found herself grateful.
Had this world possessed the technology to create caretaker automatons, she might have spent yet another childhood under the supervision of a machine rather than a living person.
The thought alone sent an unpleasant shiver through her.
However, considering her predecessors had somehow reconstructed the Reproductive Archive, as evidenced by her own method of birth, she had little doubt that creating artificial caretakers would have been within their capabilities had they truly desired it.
By the time Daphne reached the sleeping chambers, Valeryon's thoughts had wandered far from the present and into unpleasant territory she would rather not revisit.
The room was quiet. Soft lamps illuminated the space with a gentle glow, and the beds had already been prepared.
Daphne approached carefully and prepared to place each child in their own sleeping space.
However, Laurel had other intentions.
Even unconscious, he refused to release her hand.
Daphne gently attempted to separate their fingers, but Laurel merely shifted closer, his grip remaining stubbornly firm.
The older woman stared at him for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.
She looked toward Valeryon, her expression apologetic.
"I sincerely apologise for the impropriety, Your Highness."
Lady Daphne adjusted the blankets and placed both children together in Valeryon's larger crib.
The moment Valeryon's head touched the pillow, weariness washed over her once more.
Nestling deeper beneath the blankets, she allowed her eyes to close as Lady Daphne carefully arranged them both.
"Sleep well, Princess," Lady Daphne whispered, brushing a loose strand of hair away from Valeryon's face before turning her attention to her son.
"And sleep well, my darling."