Author's Note: Um... Hello!
I never really thought I would be posting my work anymore, but, here we are, hah.
This story has been with me since the beginning of my high school days. A dear friend used to write it with me—we'd spend hours into the night, usually until one of us fell asleep. There was art, songs, plans...
This story has survived twice; there was a time where we could not write it, and I feared it would be left unfinished, but we came back to it again. Unfortunately, events later took place that left it incomplete once more.
I then promised myself that I would re-write and finish this thing on my own if I had to. Perhaps completion will add closure, I'm not sure. But, I've started the journey, and I intend to finish it.
To say the least, this story is very dear to me, and it holds many memories. I do hope you enjoy and forgive any mistakes there might be. Thank you for giving this a click and a try.
And...dear friend—the true Poland to my Lithuania (wow, corny much?)—if you find this a read it, I know my writing won't do yours justice, but I hope you find enjoyment in this. I miss you, and I hope you're okay.
Enjoy, guys. :)
Nothing breaks his heart more than the last snuff of the blue light. Weak-kneed and heavy-shouldered, Lovino lets himself slide to the floor with a resounding groan, proceeding to fall flat on his back. Underneath him, two tan, feathered wings are splayed out unevenly against the cool stone, one lazily half-curled. The sting of sweat meets his eyes, and he slides a clammy palm over his face, dragging down the dampness. For a short while, Lovino merely stares up at the high ceiling, tracing the designs engraved by the ancients with his eyes. Millennia of history is written in those symbols, and one day Lovino himself will be a part of such art.
That is, if he can ever get that dumb exercise down.
If ever… A dull, quiet voice sighs to him.
On that thought, a curt huff is exhaled by Lovino, although he doesn't stir from his place, only continuing to stare up. He can practically see those little blue lights floating above him, tauntingly changing hues as they do so. While formless at first, they slowly draw near each other until an unrecognizable conglomerate is all that is left, but even that is moving, moving until it begins to form more than a dimensionless blob, but rather… Well, Lovino doesn't quite know what it will form into next—he hasn't gotten that far.
Maybe something extravagant, he thinks to himself, like the Tree of Life. Another idea comes to mind. Or perhaps it could be something of the complete opposite—like a fish.
The corners of his mouth tug downward. Imagine such a performance, one passed down for ages, one that gives audiences such admiration, one that is only for the line of rulers, to end up with a flopping, blubbering fish. Surely that would only bring out embarrassment. Such a thing couldn't represent a future ruler of the Kingdom of Heaven. Lovino would receive more laughs than applause.
As amusing as the thought is, Lovino's mouth returns to a normal, neutral line. Yet another image enters his mind, a less humorous one.
A floundering fish… What if that represents him now? An angel out of water, out of element, left stammering and gasping in front of thousands of named citizens. Would he be able to breathe? Could he swim in the air of a ruler, or is he bound by princehood? Would he be kept or tossed back into the sea?
Lovino knits his brows together in contemplation over the thoughts, stretching arms above his head. The silence outside of his own head doesn't last much longer, however. Off from the side, a square of light stretches through the room and over Lovino, followed by the sound of the heavy, aged doors sliding across the smooth floor. Then, a question.
"Is a siesta during training a new tradition for the next King of Heaven?"
Lovino rolls his eyes with a scoffing chuckle. Despite the tired ache in his back, he sits up, leaning forward with an elbow on his knee. Lifting his head, his eyes find the familiar, tall figure at the entrance. Built and solid, one could mistake Romulus for a soldier in the Heavenly Army, which would have been true long ago. Even as Lovino's grandfather, he has never appeared to have even stepped into older age up until the last couple of years; then again, as a Ruler's time comes to an end, as does their life, which is a rather different process than that of normal angels. A rather depressing one, as Lovino would say.
"I'll make it one," Lovino returns, "Siestas for everyone anytime."
"Then you better not let Feliciano in on that," jokes Romulus in response, beaming with a renowned, kind smile that lights up his face and seems to make him fifty years younger every time, "In fact, I'd keep that rule a secret from any Italian angels here."
As he watches his grandfather enter the room, Lovino's eyes wander over to where Romulus's great wings trail behind him slightly along the floor, long feathers of speckled brown draping gracefully. Romulus's wings are massive, the largest of any angel in Heaven, the wings of a Ruler. Strong and powerful, those wings have carried Romulus through the battlefield on multiple occasions, and yet they still bear their magnificence and beauty to gaze at. Lovino can only imagine when his own wings will change from their average size and pale tanness. At least they aren't the boring white as the other angels have theirs, although Lovino could never say that out loud.
"Making any progress?" Romulus's voice breaks Lovino from his thoughts, catching his attention. At the question, though, Lovino's posture shrinks.
"No," he mutters, "I'm still stuck at the blue."
"Still at the blue, hm?" Romulus taps a finger at his chin, his mouth pulled to the side a small bit. Next he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "We're falling rather behind, so we ought to get that little hiccup taken care of." He picks up his head with a reassuring smile. "You'll get it down."
"That's what I keep hearing, but I don't see it happening," Lovino huffs again. "I don't understand why I'm unable to get that part down. I've been at it for weeks!"
"It takes time, Lovi, and I know you'll get there," Romulus says in a reminder. "This performance isn't meant to be easy. It isn't some assignment to practice and memorize; it's more important than that."
"I know, I know," he sighs, but frustration hangs in his tone. "I get that. Still… I should have gotten it by now."
"What's holding you up?" Romulus asks.
Downcast, Lovino shrugs. "I don't know. I can't get the lights to stay. They always fade off. That, or that thing happens again."
Eyebrows raised, Romulus nods slowly, a hand lazily cupped under his cheek. "Ah, yes. The thing."
"It's weird," Lovino says shuffling in a small, pacing circle. "It's like my magic disobeys me. I cast one spell and end up doing another. I feel all out-of-sorts, like… I don't know—like something's interfering with me." He ducks his head. "Maybe I'm just a bad angel."
"No, no," Romulus quickly shakes his head, and he steps forward to rest a hand over Lovino's shoulder, pausing him. "As I said, this isn't supposed to be easy, Lovino. You aren't meant to get this down. Yes, you seem to be having a bit of trouble with this blue part, but all of us struggled with at least one part of it all. You're doing fantastic on what you've already learned. And this odd interference you've been encountering might be you overworking yourself, don't you think? Your words, you've been at this for weeks. Why not take a break?"
"Because the celebration is less than a month away?" Lovino shoots back. "I have to be prepared."
"And you will be,"
"How do you know?" He asks, "I can't be sure if I can't get this section down."
"Lovino, Lovino," Romulus chuckles, his low voice still lighthearted and calmed. "I have faith in you. I have full certainty that you will get this down; I wouldn't be handing you the throne if I didn't. You're capable of doing this. You are meant to be where you are at."
"But what if I don't get the routine perfected?" Lovino asks, stressed. "What if I mess up in front of everyone? What if instead of the Tree of Life those blue dots turn into a fish?"
Romulus pauses only a moment, taking in Lovino's earnest expression of worry, before bursting into laughter, throwing his head back. The booming of his voice fills the echoing chamber, gleeful and amused. "Oh, Lovino. So what if it turns into a fish? You make it the best fish!" With a grin, Romulus lifts his large hand up from Lovino's shoulder to pat it. "This is your performance, your message, Lovi. Of course you can go by the steps, but you also must make it your own. This is you showing who you are to your people, and if you show them a fish, you're going to show them the greatest fish there ever was."
Lovino smiles weakly. "You really think so?"
"I know so." Replies Romulus, and looking into those kind, hazel eyes, all Lovino can see is sincerity. Perhaps he really could make this performance his own, and if it is to be a fish, well…
"Now then," Romulus lets out a huff, straightening with a grin. "I think you've earned yourself a well-deserved break."
"But I've got to practice—"
"Was Rome built in a day?" Romulus says, "You'll be fine, Lovino, you're allowed to breathe. You should. Take a break and get some fresh air. Hey—why not find your brother?"
"Feliciano?" Lovino groans.
"Do you have any others?" Romulus chuckles, wrapping an arm behind Lovino to give him a light push. "Go on, play a game, be a kid for a little while, because that is taken away too quickly. Soon you're going to be a Ruler, and then you'll become old like me."
"Yeah, yeah," Lovino rolls his eyes. "I'll be all hunched over and feeble, too."
"Hey, I am not feeble. And do I really have a hunch?"
"I'm not saying anything related to you; I'm just presenting outcomes."
Romulus gives another hearty laugh, shaking his head. "I'll see you later, Lovino, my Ruler with the Golden Eyes."
Lovino scoffs at the name. "See you," He waves as he makes his way out into the long hallway, strolling out to the front door and outside. On the first step Lovino stops momentarily, taking the opportunity to follow his grandfather's suggestion and pull in a deep breath. Fresh, sweet air greets his nose in a pleasant scent, traveling down to fill his lungs and spread a newfound energy into his veins. All at once the stuffy environment of the training room and indoors evaporates, replaced with a place to stretch his wings and look around not to the same walls. It's amazing what stepping outside can do, all in one breath. Romulus was right—but when is he ever wrong?
Heaven's sky surrounds the air in a brilliant blue, swirling, golden-lines clouds dancing above. It is much like the sky of Earth but surreal and magnificent. It dazzles those who live under it every day, never ceasing to amaze. In the distance all around are planets, some near and some far; on some designs of clouds and winds can be made out, or rings or moons. However, the boundary of Heaven and space doesn't exist as it does on Earth—there is no atmospheric line or separation, no distinct light and dark. Through purples, clouds, and stars, the two celestial universes connect.
Lovino continues his way down the path, taking a glance around his surroundings, as if he hasn't seen it all in months, which is almost true in a way. The green grass and vibrant flowers brush against his ankles, tickling him with their softness. His fingers catch a few petals fluttering through a breeze that sticks under his hair and ruffles his wings. Lovino can't help but smile. He glances down at the ground to notice his footprints, each one leaving behind a faint, white dim under his bare feet before fading. It is yet another reminder of the magic that lives within his home and his people.
Not far from Lovino's home is a village. It's cobblestone streets are filled with the casual business of daily life; stores gather customers, a class of young angels practice their loops on the sky, and angels of all diversities wave and chat with one another in good spirits. A peaceful town, it is, just like Heaven itself. Along the walls of ancient buildings beautiful vines bloom radiant flowers, and outside some of the doors angels have added their personal, magical touch.
Albeit a tranquil town, a bustling of excitement has been running through its streets as of late. Banners and decorations are presented by the hundreds and strewn about the village, angels are making their plants flower and grow to their finest with magic—preparations for the upcoming celebration set the activities of the next few weeks.
Lovino's upcoming celebration.
A tingle of nerves brings warmth to Lovino's palms, and upon glancing down at them, he discovers them to be dimly glowing. Quickly Lovino clasps his hands, pressing his fingers tightly together.
Settle down, he urges himself. One breath in, one out. He's fine, everything will be fine. Sneaking a peak at his hands, Lovino finds the light to be a bit duller, although it isn't fully gone yet. It would be gone eventually at least—whenever his nerves ended. With a sigh, Lovino carries on, taking the rural path instead of the stony streets.
It is a lot to think about, the festival. While Lovino has already dwelled on it plenty during his training, it doesn't put to rest his mind.
What's going to happen?
Will I do things right?
So many questions such as these plague his head. Each one eventually comes down to a scenario of how to make a fool of himself. The more he dwells on them, the more probable they seem.
What if I mess up?
What if my magic doesn't work?
What if it goes out of control?
What if—
Before Lovino's next thought can hit him, pain does instead, right in the back of his skull with a light thunk. Releasing a shriek, Lovino practically takes off flying, whirling around with hands glowing and ready to send out a spell on whoever dared to cause him to release such an holy sound. There's no one there. Lovino paces forward, eyes searching for his assailants. Lovino hears his adversaries before he sees them, and in the most peculiar way of snickering behind a high pair of bushes, too.
"Geez…! You knocked him right in the head!"
"I didn't mean to! It slipped!"
"He isn't going to be happy."
"Aw, man, nice going, Gil…"
"Shut up, it's fine."
"You're going to retrieve that, aren't you?"
"If you stop pestering me!"
Lovino's narrowed eyes roll up to the back of his head, a groan already making its way out of his mouth. In curiosity of what the obviously thrown object that hit his head is, he glances down, finding a thin, light, wooden frisbee. The polished outside feels smooth in his hand as he picks it up and looks it over, only lifting his head when—
"Shoot! He's taking it!"
"Maybe he'll give it back?"
"You can always ask for it back."
"And get sucker-punched?"
"Oh, Lovi wouldn't do that!"
"He definitely would!"
"He's probably going to want to since he's hearing your every word, Gilbert."
Lovino huffs at that line. Darn right I do, and you've got it coming. Not wasting another second, he starts toward the bush. As he reaches it, although before he can deliver that fiery punch, up pops a figure with arms raised in a surrendering defense.
"It slipped—I threw it and it slipped!" Sputters Gilbert, already earning a doubtful grunt from Lovino.
Gilbert is a fellow angel, a friend of Lovino's brother more than of Lovino himself, but the prince tolerates him. Most of the time Lovino simply finds him annoying with his overconfidence, obnoxious personality, and arrogant tendencies, but there is no doubt that Gilbert could always bring life to a dull situation. His exuberant smile could make Lovino scowl at the brightness of it, as if he were looking at the sun.
However, while Gilbert acts as a perfectly normal, albeit hyper, angel would, he appears to be quite the opposite. Already presenting the abnormality of being one of the rare albinos in Heaven, Gilbert's angelic look doesn't quite match expectations. On his back is only one wing, brilliant, white feathers proudly shining. Where the other should be is nothing but a nasty scar underneath his clothing. An accident involving falling into a fire had been what Gilbert explained it as, not going into much more specific detail aside from exaggerations of how 'epic' and 'legendary' he was to survive it. Despite the one wing, Gilbert can still fly, although it isn't an easy task. The wonders of magic are still being discovered, and one of Gilbert's findings has been the ability to create an almost physical wing of pure magic energy to lift and carry him off the ground for limited periods of time. Even Lovino must admit that it's pretty impressive.
What isn't impressive is the pathetic, stammering figure before him. With a deadpan stare, Lovino listens quietly as Gilbert continues to explain himself, making gestures and pointing all around.
"Besides," goes on the other, "Feliciano could have caught it. He was standing right there."
"I could not have!" Not a second later, Gilbert is joined by said angel jumping up beside him. Feliciano is nearly a mirror image of Lovino, yet at the same time holds many subtle differences than his brother. While Lovino's hair is a dark chocolate brown, Feliciano's is more chestnut colored, and instead of golden eyes, his are amber. He also has more freckles than Lovino and a rounder face as well, making him appear younger, when in actuality the two angels are twins. Lovino is technically older, separated with responsibilities and expectations between the minutes gapping him and Feliciano.
"Lovi, Gilbert threw that frisbee way over my head," Feliciano protests, his voice pitching upwards. "I couldn't have caught it in time. It wasn't my fault!"
"I would have caught it," Gilbert shrugs.
"No way," scowls Feliciano in return. "Not even you could have."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"I don't suppose you're going to put that challenge into simulation, are you?" The third and final contribution to the party behind the bush finally makes himself known. Joining the two bickering angels stands the tallest of the trio. Broad-shouldered and stoic, Ludwig is, much like Lovino, the opposite of his eccentric brother, only, unlike the latter, Ludwig is actually the younger. Although, with his maturity far surpassing Gilbert's, the mistaken switch has been commonly made. While on the quieter side, Ludwig is still always present in Feliciano's and Gilbert's shenanigans; despite their differing personalities, Feliciano's really a lot closer to Ludwig than Gilbert, the two having been inseparable friends for years. As odd as it may seem to others viewing from the outside, the friendship between Ludwig and Feliciano held to be strong and healthy.
"We didn't mean to hit you, Lovi," Feliciano's voice brings him back. The angel rocks back on his feet, contemplating. "But… Since you're here now, why don't you join us?" He flashes his brother a welcoming smile.
"Join you?" Lovino scoffs, rolling his eyes. "I don't have time to play games."
"Then what are you doing out here?" Ludwig prompts with a raised eyebrow. "Are you running an errand?"
"No,"
"Then you're here on leisure."
"No—well…" Lovino furrows his brow and crosses his arms, a wrinkle forming above his nose. "Not exactly. I'm here on a break from training, but that doesn't mean I need to waste it in games."
Gilbert laughs, a breath blown through his lips. "What else is there to do?"
"Reflection," replies Lovino.
"Who wants to do that?" Gilbert scoffs in reply, taking over before Lovino can. "Come on, join us for a few, yeah?"
"You're really not going to let me go, huh?"
"We won't keep you long, Lovi," Feliciano assures as he bends to take the disk from Lovino. "Go long, Ludwig!"
Lovino stands still for a moment as he watches the small group resume their antics. Feliciano sends the frisbee gliding while Ludwig starts after it in a long stride. He snatches it from the air, calling out to Gilbert as he tosses it over to the albino.
"Don't just stand there," Gilbert throws Lovino a challenging grin. "Race you."
"Oh yeah?" Lovino raises an eyebrow, glancing over to the frisbee in the air.
"Yeah,"
"Have fun losing then," Without another second to waste, Lovino takes off. Feet pounding on the grass, he races towards the flying object. Not far behind him is Gilbert, quickly catching up. That thought hits Lovino. Of course—pick one of the most active angels to race against, that's brilliant. Lovino isn't going to let that go so easily, however. Spotting Gilbert coming up beside him, Lovino moves right, cutting the other off. It brings about a startled quip from Gilbert, as well as a smirk from Lovino afterwards. He holds the lead, stretching his wings behind him, and with a beat, leaps into the air. The disk is still airborne, slowly floating to the ground. A small breeze lifts it up, and Lovino chases after it. He flies higher, faster, ignoring Gilbert calling behind him. The frisbee begins to fall again, closer to Lovino yet still out of reach and getting further. Lovino stretches out his arm, fingers reaching, not yet able to grasp the edge, not without another beat of his wings. A little more, only a little further to reach.
"Do a flip!" He hears Gilbert cackle behind him. Lovino scrunches his face, straining, so close. In one more swipe of his arm, his fingers finally fold around the frisbee's edge, right as his feet hit the ground, sending Lovino stumbling clumsily back to the land. The others let out a combination of cheers and laughter, a whoop from Feliciano. Lovino joins, glancing back and holding up the disk, releasing a call of his own.
In the next step backwards, Lovino collides into something behind him. Startled, he jumps, turning quickly to look up at the figure before him. Eyes growing wide, Lovino pauses, the frisbee dropping from his hand. Instantly everything freezes around Lovino. The cheers from his friends quiet, the mere outside noise of Heaven dissipates, and all that is left with Lovino was his own heartbeat thrumming faintly in his chest.
Before him stands a masculine angel with brown skin and dark eyes. His sturdy arms are crossed from his broad shoulders. The angel is a good half a foot taller than Lovino, casting a shadow over the other with two great wings.
"Well, what do we have here?" With a sly smile already creeping along his face, the angel tilts up his chin. "Do princes get a lunch break?"
"I…I..." Lovino stammers momentarily before shaking himself out of his daze. After a couple blinks, his composure is regained, and Lovino's voice finds some steadiness. "I wanted an outing."
"Right, because that is totally appropriate before coronation," The other angel scoffs. "I bet you were sent away because you suck at your routine and your old man couldn't deal with you anymore."
Lovino frowns. "Excuse you, I'm doing fine at my routine, Sadiq. I can choose a walk when I need one. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be off." With a huff, Lovino turns, tossing a bang of hair from his eyes as he starts back. However, he doesn't get very far before catching the mumble, just loud enough to reach his ears.
"You'll never be a ruler is all you ever do is slack off,"
Fingers tighten around the disk in his hand, and Lovino's steps come to a stop. "What did you say?" He eyes Sadiq sternly.
The other angel only sneers, turning up his chin. "Why should I repeat it to you, Your Highness?"
"I suggest you mind that tongue," Lovino warns. "You're speaking to a future authority."
Sadiq lets out a mocking laugh, stepping forward. Looming over Lovino, he presses his knuckles into his palms with a series of cracks. Eyes narrowing, he stares Lovino down. "Make me."
Despite the intimidating boy over him, Lovino doesn't avert his gaze. In fact, instead of feeling threatened, Lovino's fists only clench tighter in aggravation. This isn't the first time Sadiq has teased at his position or has gotten on Lovino's nerves; it's a mystery what had struck between the two boys to make them as resistant as fire and ice, but there is no mixing between the two.
"You don't look like a true leader," Sadiq continues to sneer. "You're a scrawny little angel with dirty wings. You've only gotten as far as you have through your petty bloodline. You'll never be strong enough to lead Heaven."
"I will be," Lovino retorts. "My grandfather has taught me fine."
"Oh, because your granddaddy is such a great leader. Right," Sadiq rolls his eyes. "He's no ruler. He's a coward, and Heaven is weak with him on the throne. We never needed that sack of old bones, and we certainly don't need his grandson."
A sudden burst of angry heat flares up Lovino's spine. How dare Sadiq speak lowly of Romulus, after all he has done to lead. What kind of angel would trash their ruler, especially one as faithful as Lovino's grandfather? The mere thought sets Lovino grinding his teeth, and he steps forward. "You take that back," he spats.
"Or what? You think you can stop me?" Sadiq challenges. "You're just as pathetic. You've never been a soldier; you've never had to fight. You've been pampered by royal life so much that you couldn't take down a cloud. And Romulus is so weak that if it rains, he'll wash up dead on the shore in minutes."
Lovino's teeth grind together painfully.
"You're wrong," is all he can manage to spit.
"Yeah? You think you're so great and deserving?" Sadiq leans threateningly close down to Lovino, locking both their dark eyes. "Prove it."
The words hit Lovino the moment they leave Sadiq's mouth, but he doesn't move, not immediately. From the back of his head, a familiar voice speaks up in encouragement.
What are you waiting for? It urges. Prove it.
Lovino's legs straighten, one lifting and stepping forward; at the same time the hand that had been previously holding the frisbee is drawn back, right before being thrown in a mighty punch to Sadiq's protruding nose. Followed by a cloud of dust, the larger angel flies down to the ground with a great thud. Sadiq's disoriented eyes follow imaginary, circling stars around his peripherals a couple times before he shakes himself back to Heaven's reality. The shock etched in his features remains only for a breathed second before it is replaced by offended anger.
"You…"
Before Sadiq, Lovino stands as a statue, still processing his own surprise from the action he had taken. It was certainly out of order for a prince, more than an unforeseen circumstance for him to find himself in. Although he doesn't turn around, Lovino can imagine the others watching from where they stood, appalled to silence. Yet, as his adrenaline evens out, Lovino is welcomed by another feeling; as his brain replays the scene of Sadiq's arrogant behind smacking the dirt, Lovino's mouth curves into a triumphant grin. Proof.
However, such a grin is soon swiped by Sadiq's heated fist.
Lovino hardly has a moment to register any pain before the ground below knocks the wind out of his lungs. A brief second passes where a boulder sits on his chest, preventing his breath from returning.
"You scrawny little spoiled twig!" Sadiq's slur of insults follows his steps towards Lovino, fists tightening at every word. "You call that a punch? That was pitiful. Still, you think I'm letting you get away with that?"
Lovino, back and breathing, scrambles up to his feet, bringing crossed arms in front of him. However, Sadiq is too quick, knocking Lovino's knees out from under him. Before the boy hits the ground, Sadiq's fist grasps in his hair, pulling him up. " Huh ?"
Biting back a scream, Lovino peers up at Sadiq through squinted eyes, struggling to see through the pain. From afar he can hear a yell from Feliciano.
"Who do you think you are?" demands Sadiq, shaking his fist and Lovino along with it.
Lovino can't hold back the protest of pain, grabbing at Sadiq's arm in an attempt to pull him off. The other's grip is too firm. The back of his head throbs, pain pulsing with his heartbeat. What makes it worse is that Sadiq insists on yelling, too.
"You think you're so tough, don't you? Hah! You're just a scrappy wimp trying to be a big shot. You'll never have what it takes to rule. You'll be as useless as your old man on that throne. You and your whole family—you're not meant to be Rulers. You don't deserve your bloodline. Oh deserve to return to the dirt just like everyone else."
You're wrong. Lovino growls in his head, reaffirming his hold on Sadiq. He's wrong. Again the heat of anger swells within his blood, racing through his body and this time gathering steadily in his palms. It only builds up for so long before the hand in his hair released, and Sadiq pulls back his arm with a surprised yelp. In the brief second of Sadiq stumbling back, Lovino makes his move, lunging forward. His fist connects with the other's jaw, sending Sadiq down.
Hit him. He deserves it.
Lovino does. An uppercut snaps Sadiq's head back, and when it sags back down, blood drips down his face. Still, Lovino delivers another, and then one more, his fist growing hotter and hotter. All the while, the small voice inside encourages him.
He insulted your reign.
Sadiq's yell is faint to his ears.
He insulted your grandfather.
The struggling beneath him begins to grow frantic.
Hit him harder.
Show him proof.
Kill him.
Lovino freezes mid-hit, abruptly straightening at the comment. It had come completely out of nowhere, not part of his nature at all. That was too far. Lovino's fists uncurl, the heat seeping away; he hasn't realized how hot his hands actually were until now. His gaze drops down to Sadiq, who has his arms up in protection of his face. Lovino can see the skin starting to blister, and he can't help but grimace. It takes a moment to find the words to speak.
"Sadiq—"
"What the stars were you trying to do to me?" Sadiq's fingers scramble blindly until they find Lovino's shirt, grabbing the fabric tightly. Enraged eyes bear down into Lovino's with a snarl. "You were trying to kill me, huh?!"
"Wha— No!" Lovino sputters.
"I'll show you," Sadiq says, raising his own glowing fist. "I'll incinerate you!"
Lovino winces, bracing himself for the landing blow, but another voice breaks in.
"I don't think that will be necessary unless you look forward to a visit to Icarus Prison,"
Both boys stop, whirring their heads to find a man walking calmly towards them. He is rather short, but that doesn't minimize the authoritative aura radiating from him. They don't even need to find the badge over his heart. His sharp, green eyes are deep with secrets and vagueness, full of war-filled memories behind mysterious closed doors. His expression is rather lacking of emotion, relaxed yet watchful behind blank, pointed features. His blond, smooth hair sits messily styled upon his head, never truly able to be brought down. The one striking feature, the most notable of his appearance, is that of his wings. Attached to his shoulder blades are two large, ebony wings full of blackened feathers, easily drawing the eyes of bystanders. Of course, Lovino recognizes him immediately.
"Arthur?"
"That's Commander Kirkland to you," Arthur corrects without any hint of a smile. His gaze shifts to Sadiq, taking in the boy's appearance. "Are we in a spot of trouble here? I suggest you remove your hands from your prince."
Sadiq nearly chokes, spluttering out a mix of cut-off, angry protests. Inevitably, after the fifth attempt to speak, he gives up, practically shoving Lovino away. Wiping his bleeding nose, he glares at the prince, shoulders tense and jaw clenching. "I'll get you for this,"
"I wouldn't count on that," warns Arthur coolly. "Unless you'd like to add more trouble to your name."
"Shut up," Sadiq snaps.
"Arthur," Lovino tries, then stops. "Er—Kirkland, it wasn't anything—"
"I'll decide that," Arthur states.. "It seemed pretty obvious to me. I do say, however, are you not supposed to be practicing, Mr. Vargas? Your ceremony is arriving quite quickly." He pauses, turning an eye to Sadiq. "I suggest you clean yourself up and run onto other things before I decide to report this."
Sadiq tenses, giving a stiff nod and a mumbles "yes, sir…" He turns, though not before giving Lovino another murderous look, and with a heavy beat of his wings, takes to the sky.
Lovino watches as the angel flies off in a huff, a strange pit in his gut.
"Truly, you are such trouble."
He looks back at Arthur, who is shaking his head in a sigh.
"Honestly," The commander goes on. "How many times do I find you in a fight? And it's usually with him. Why couldn't you be more passive like your brother? It doesn't hurt to take a few insults. You'll get plenty of them when you're a Ruler."
Lovino's eyes fall to the ground, his brow furrowing. "He wasn't insulting me. He was insulting my grandfather."
Arthur takes a moment to think on that, nodding slowly. "Ah, I see. While I suppose the reason is justifiable by means, your actions and intentions were not. That was no way for someone of future Heavenly authority to act."
Lovino rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know. You've given me this lecture too many times to count."
"Yet you never seem to learn from it," Quips Arthur. "I take it your break must be up. I can escort you back to the palace."
Lovino groans. So much for a time to relax and de-stress. Distracted, he takes a look behind him. "Is Feliciano coming?"
"Your brother has his own matters to attend to." Arthur replies. "He will return eventually. Come."
"His own matters…" Lovino grouses, following Arthur. "Playing all day and eating all night. What a life."
Arthur offers one breath of a chuckle. "He shares his own load of responsibilities."
"My grandfather isn't going to be informed of this, is he?" Lovino asks with a hint of anxiety. The last thing he needs before his celebration is a scolding.
"I don't see a need to as long you intend to stay out of trouble," Arthur answers. "I must say, you were quite set on him. Merciless."
"Yeah…" Lovino's eyes trail to the ground beneath him. Merciless he had felt for sure, but it seemed out of his control. That impulsive thought, that small, encouraging voice… Even though it was in his head, it felt out of place. It unnerves him. Desperate to shake the feeling from his shoulders, Lovino changes the subject. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Last I checked, Commander's don't usually get a lunch break."
"I was actually already on my way to the palace," Arthur explains. "Hence why I have no trouble escorting you there. I'm bringing information of the next mission to your grandfather."
"Weren't you around yesterday for that same purpose, though?" Lovino questions. "And Francis was here this morning."
"Yes," Arthur nods, only briefly glancing at Lovino. "However, we've gained further information on a few subjects that is rather...peculiar."
"Is it bad?" Lovino asks.
"It's mildly concerning."
Lovino straightens in piqued interest. "What's going on? Can't you tell me?"
Arthur side-eyes him again, pausing before a small smile pulls his lips. After a thought, he replies, "I don't think a young prince such as yourself needs to be preoccupied with anything other than your studies."
"Oh, Arthur, why can't I know?"
"Now, now, enough of that. If you're so curious, you may ask Lord Romulus himself after your training," Arthur raises a hand in a wave as the two angels approach the regal gates of the palace. As the golden doors part, Lovino and Arthur make their way inside. Lovino can't help but wonder about Arthur's mission—the higher angels always get the most intense tasks, ones that involve dangerous creatures from other realms. More often than not those missions are classified, so much that even Romulus doesn't discuss them with Feliciano and Lovino, only telling them that they would know once Lovino takes the throne. Why it was so important that he could only know when he was ruler, Lovino could only half grasp. In the end it's all just bigger than he is.
The two angels walk down the extravagant hallways until they come upon a large, decorated door. A substance similar to marble is engraved with angelic script. "The greatest rulers are the most humble servants" Lovino reads, hardly glancing at the letters. Arthur brings up a hand to the door, a blue spark connecting from his finger to the marble. As the light grazes the surface of the door, it scattered out to the edges, illuminating the corners. The door opens.
Beyond Arthur and Lovino is a room that contrasts the rest of the castle. While the chambers and halls and various other rooms are adorned with regal and magnificent decorations—gold that lines the floor, crystals glimmering within the windows, and old, history-worn artifacts that hang against the walls—the room ahead appears quite bland and definitely not cohesive to the rest of the palace. It is smaller, for one, much smaller. It leads into a larger area, but even the second room is tiny compared to the mere entrance of the castle. Secondly, it is a mirrored copy of a typical abode on Earth. Against the walls are (of course with Heaven's touch) couches and chairs, shelves held ancient books, and a large map hangs on the wall. It's simple—so otherworldly simple.
But that is what Lovino likes about it, personally. Heaven had a way of making everything so royal and elegant, especially in the palace. Lovino finds most of his comfort in the quaint area; the blandness of it all distracts from the expectation of being a prince. In here, he could be at ease with no pressure of the world outside looking at him. Here, Romulus is no longer The Great Ruler, and he and Feliciano are no longer The Princes— they are simply angels.
As they head through the first entryway and into the second room, Lovino sees that the larger room isn't empty. In fact, the company from earlier is still present.
"What's up, Francis?"
"And that's—" the words break off unfinished by the angel whose back is facing Lovino. He straightens, glancing behind himself and in doing so, flipping a lock of shoulder-length blond hair over his shoulder. He meets Lovino's eyes with a playful smirk. "Well, hello there, little ruffian. What kind of trouble have you gotten into today?"
Lovino flushes, going rigid. At first he swings around to Arthur, an accusation already on his lips, but the other angel merely gestures to him, and glancing down at himself, it is as plain as day that he has been roughed up. Of course Arthur doesn't have to mention it to his grandfather—it's already written all over Lovino himself.
As Romulus himself notices, his expression falls slightly. "Lovino, I thought you went you for a relaxing break to calm down ."
"Yeah, well…" Lovino stumbles for words, sheepishly averting his gaze. Instead he steps forward, his curiosity changing the subject. "What are you guys talking about? The new mission."
Francis chuckles, nodding. "Classified information." He winks. "Very dangerous."
Lovino's eyes widen. "Dangerous?"
"Extremely."
"What kind of dangerous?"
"The worst kind you can imagine."
Lovino leans in, drawn in seconds. "Like…?" He near whispers. "Like demons…?"
"And that's enough of that," Arthur speaks over Lovino, clearing his throat. He sends a warning look to Francis, gesturing with his head to a nearby chair. Lovino follows, starting slightly when he sees another figure, one so still that Lovino hadn't noticed their presence at all. They are curled up in a small form, head hidden behind folded arms. By their silence, Lovino could only guess that they're sleeping.
"Ah, yes, my bad," Francis quickly apologizes.
"Lovino," Arthur takes over, turning to the young prince. "I believe training is awaiting you?"
Lovino's shoulders slump. "Aw, c'mon… Do I have to?" He gives Romulus his most pleading, puppy-dog-eyed look.
Romulus only shakes his head with a smile, gesturing with an arm. "Your ceremony is soon. There's no time to slack off, yeah?"
Lovino sulks.
"Your brother will be home soon," Romulus continues. "We'll all have dinner. Until then…"
"Practice," Lovino finishes with a sigh. "Alright. If I'm not up by dinner, assume I'm too tired to move." With that, Lovino trudges his way out the door.
Romulus waits until the last white feather is out of sight before turning back to the two soldiers with him. "New word?" He asks, expectant eyes lifting to Arthur.
"We believe we have located the rift," the dark angel replies formally, reaching into his pocket to pull out an opal orb. "Of course the bad news is that a clearer signal means more energy. It must be growing wider."
Romulus pauses on that, taking in Arthur's words. Slowly he nods, brow furrowing in thought. "Where?"
"We've narrowed down the area to the North Sanctus Forest." Arthur brushes two fingers over the front of the smooth orb, pulling up an image—a map. Tracing his way down a path, he points to where a large area of the forest is colored darkly. "We believe somewhere in here is where the energy rays are strongest and coming from a source."
Romulus hums, although his expression hardened with concern. "That is closer than I'd like it to be."
"So far there hasn't been any other activity from it," Francis takes his turn to speak. "Of course while we haven't found it, we also haven't felt any other presence from it."
"Our men are continuing to search for it," Arthur adds, motioning to several colored clusters. "We have several teams investigating the lower and higher parts of the woods. We've left markers as well as magical barriers in case anything does find its way through. We'll immediately be informed if anything runs into said barriers."
"How has finding a way to close it been coming along?" Romulus asks.
The two soldiers share a look with one another of uncertainty before Arthur lets out a breath.
"We aren't quite sure how to close this thing since we don't exactly know what it is," He admits. "We have our hypotheses, but those are only from precedents of the past. This could be something we've never even seen before, especially since we can't even seem to locate it."
"I think we need to start finding it sooner than later."
"We realize the severity of the situation," Arthur says. "We're putting our best angels forward to handle this."
Romulus sighs. "I know you are. I have faith in my trusted commanders." He lifts his head. "I just don't want to leave a potential war in my grandson's hands."
"We understand," Francis assures. "We'll do our best, Sir."
"I know you will," Romulus replies, studying the two commanders.
"You needn't worry about this," Arthur adds. "You've got a ceremony to look forward to."
"Ah," Romulus smiles at the reminder. "That is true. One last round of chaos before I go."
"How is it coming along?" Arthur asks. "Lovino's training, I mean."
"He's getting there," says Romulus. "A few hiccups, but he's determined, so I know he'll get it down."
"Is there anything more you need us to do in planning?" Francis offers, sitting back. "Please, let us help."
"You've already done so much," Romulus chuckles, shrugging his shoulders honestly. "You've taken care of all that needs to be taken care of. The only thing left is for you to show up, and I hope you will."
"What in Heaven would stop us?" Arthur crosses his arms but smiles. "All three of us will be there. Definitely."
"I'm grateful," Romulus nods. "Lovino is, too. Ah, speaking of the three of you…" His attention caught, Romulus glances over at the curled figure in the chair. "I thank you for coming and all the help you've given Lovino and I. I know I've kept you hours too long."
Francis is already waving a hand in dismissal, heading over to the chair. "My Lord, there is no need to thank us. We live to serve you." Bending slightly, he rests a hand over the shoulder of the sleeping boy, his voice softening. "Hey, time to wake up."
The one in the chair takes barely a moment to stir, lifting his head. Curly blond hair fell over his face, brushed away quickly afterwards. Behind round-rimmed glasses are two violet eyes, dulled from sleep. He pauses a second, still in his position as if gathering himself, remembering where he is. Eventually Francis's voice draws his gaze up to the man.
"We're all finished," Francis is saying to him. "Ready to head out?" The boy nods.
"Thanks for bearing with us, Matthew," Romulus speaks up kindly. "I know it's been a long few days."
Matthew's attention quickly turns to Romulus, now alert with a clear head. After a moment to process the Ruler's words, he gives another nod, sitting up. Unlike Francis, whose wings have unfolded after sitting, the space behind Matthew remains empty. In fact, Matthew's whole back is vacant—no white wings anywhere to be seen.
"Need this?" Francis steps forward, offering to Matthew a smooth, pale-colored staff. About two-thirds of the way up sticks out a handle, and the top of the crutch is curved in a crest-shape for an arm to rest in. Matthew takes it with a grateful nod.
"We'll be with you soon," Arthur assures once as he hands Romulus the now dormant orb. "We'll bring you any new information that comes up."
"Thank you," Romulus says, standing. "Take care of yourselves."
"Will do," Francis calls back, leading Matthew out. Arthur follows steadily, giving Romulus a bow of his head before exiting with the other two.
Romulus, after watching the two commanders head out, glances down at the dull orb in his hand. His thoughts drift back to the map, visualizing the image he had seen again. They're getting closer to locating the rift in Heaven's realm, but the estimated area is still much too large for Romulus's liking. Ideally, he would rather the obstruction be found and eliminated before the ceremony, especially as the day draws uncomfortably close, but that might not be possible. As Arthur had mentioned this disturbance has no specific precedent; this is new magic, it's source unknown. It could be from a wholly new realm for all Romulus knows. With such lack of information and location, finding ways to dispose of it had limits. Even Romulus can't repair anything if he didn't know what's broken. Hopefully it isn't anything too serious, although Romulus highly doubts that. Still… it would be disappointing to crown Lovino Ruler and then dump a new, complex problem onto his shoulders.
With Lovino in mind… Romulus glances out the window behind him, eyeing the sun. It is getting to be late afternoon, almost evening; Feliciano will be returning home anytime now, and Lovino will be finishing up his training. Then they would all gather from their separate places for supper. Romulus smiles—dinners together, just the three of them and occasionally the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family, are times Heaven's King cherishes. He won't have those much longer, so the last few he has taken slow, pausing multiple times to simply look around and be in the moment. His boys would sometimes give him odd looks when he stopped midway through a conversation, but they never press it. Somehow, Romulus believes they know.
He still has a bit of time before supper, and there is plenty to do to fill that time. His eyes fall from the wall where they had been staring off back to the smooth object in his hand. He should look through that map again and try to find any anomalies or hints to shrink down the shaded area. He isn't a soldier anymore, and he definitely isn't the best at angel technology, but he can find more information on the device. It will take some tinkering, but Romulus also prides himself in being a fast learner. With that in mind, he taps the top of the orb, waiting as it illuminates. A holographic menu floats up, and Romulus goes to work.
His wings feel more like weights than anything despite their light appearance. They practically touch the floor as Lovino's bent legs drag each foot across. Sluggishly he forces his battered body across the room towards the spotted refuge of the soft, cloud-like couch, collapsing upon it with an exhausted groan.
"I'm not going to have any power left for the coronation…" He mutters, arms hanging as dead weights on both sides of the couch.
"Tired much?" The question comes from across the room to the right, behind a smooth, white counter. Feliciano stands on the other side, working away at what would be their dinner.
"I haven't worked so hard since learning to fly," Lovino replies in a muffled tone. "I was certain my wings would fall right off."
Feliciano giggles. "You'll sleep well tonight then."
"Tonight, through tomorrow, and all the way past the celebration," clarifies Lovino.
"Right, that'll earn you a reputation quickly," Feliciano rolls his eyes jokingly. "'Lovino, the Lazy, Golden-Eyed Ruler of Heaven,'"
"Lazy?" Lovino lifts his head in attention, a frown etched on his face. "No way! I've worked my tail off on that stupid routine."
"Well, all that work won't mean anything if you don't show up."
Lovino pauses at that, folding his arms under his chin. In a lower voice, he sighs, "Well, at least it would mean no one would see my mistakes."
"Lovi," Feliciano's tone softens a bit, and he stops his work. "You'll do fine. Your practice will pay off, and you're going to make a great Ruler."
"Yeah, yeah," Lovino waves a hand in dismissal. "You and Nonno are both the same."
"I'm serious," Feliciano pushes, stepping around the counter and over to where Lovino lies. "I think you're overwhelming yourself. What are you so worried about?"
"That I won't get it right?" Lovino barks a sarcastic laugh. "Uh, that I'll mess up and be an embarrassment of a Ruler for millennia to come? Y'know, the usual for any angel."
"Lovino," Gently Feliciano places a hand over Lovino's shoulder, rubbing the tired joint. "If you dwell on it like this, it'll only harm you in the end. I know I'm not under the same strain you are, but...I suggest you try to relax a little bit, okay? I can call over Ludwig and Gilbert if you want—they'll loosen you up."
"Definitely not," Lovino is quick to answer. "As much as I like Ludwig, I can't stand the sight of him. And Gilbert's just annoying."
Feliciano makes a face, "And you're just mean."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Do you have anything else to say?"
"Yeah—your title as leader is going to be 'Lovino, the Meanest Angel.'"
"I thought it was lazy."
"We'll make it both, then."
Lovino groans, lazily batting at his brother. "You're such a pain…"
"Don't insult me, I'm making your dinner!"
Lovino thinks. "Speaking of dinner," the angel mumbles. "Where's Nonno?"
"He'll be back soon," Feliciano draws his hand away, turning back to the kitchen. "He stayed back to finish up some work. Ruling Heaven gives you no mercy, even at the end of your days."
"Great, I have so much to look forward to," Lovino grouses. "I wonder if it was about Arthur and Francis's mission…"
"I don't know, but I'm sure he'll figure it out," Feliciano looks up over at Lovino. "You just gonna lay there while I do all the cooking?"
Lovino meets Feliciano's gaze, sending his younger twin a pathetic smile. "I'm honestly too tired to move."
The other merely smirks, shaking his head. "This once because I'm nice. But you're getting cleanup."
"Deal," Lovino agrees.
"What's this 'deal' now?" A new voice enters the conversation. Romulus steps through the entryway and into the kitchen, pausing to take a long, deep sniff of the air. A warm smile stretches on his face. "Smells wonderful. Is that all you, Feli?"
"That's right," Feliciano grins in reply. "And it's almost finished, too. Lovino's resting, though."
"A bit tired, are we?" Romulus peers over the counter.
"I'm going to lie here until I turn to stone," Lovino sleepily answers.
"All that hard training will pay off," Romulus reminds him, grabbing a couple plates. "Come eat with us."
"Comin'..." With another groan Lovino pushes himself up, stretching his sore muscles and wings.
Soon enough, the three angels sit themselves around the table, food settled before them. The smell is heavenly—as Feliciano's cooking usually is. Lovino's mouth is already watering by the time he sits, so much that his hands are already grabbing his utensils, lifting in the air, ready to stab at the deliciousness below.
"Ahem," Romulus's call stops Lovino mid-jab. The older angel stares Lovino down with an amused, raised eyebrow. He has his hands held out, palms up. Beside Romulus, opposite of Lovino, Feliciano places the palm of his hand in his grandfather's. He gives Lovino a side-smirk, rubbing in his guilty catch.
Lovino rolls his eyes, setting down his fork. However, he doesn't protest—a blessing over the meal is tradition; besides, Romulus's words have a direct impact as well.
"Oh, Lord above," Romulus starts once Lovino's hand is in his. His eyes close, and his head bows in respect. "We thank you for another day you have provided for us. We also thank you for the upcoming celebration for our Lovino, and we ask that his training pay off in glory to you. Bring us your blessings in our lives and honor in our actions. Amen."
"Amen," both Lovino and Feliciano repeat as if the phrase were a rehearsed line. Lovino inwardly shrinks at the reminder of the coronation, and when he picks up his fork again, it is only to pick at the dinner before him.
Please let it pay off… He pleads to himself. What if it doesn't, though? What if he ends up messing up in front of everyone in Heaven? What if he makes an embarrassment of himself before every angel?
I guess I'd have to kill them all.
Lovino inhales sharply in surprise, sucking in a piece of food. His breath catches, lungs seizing, and he leans over, thrown into a series of coughs. He feels a hand lightly slapping his back and hears Feliciano's worried tone.
"Lovi? What happened? Are you okay?"
Does it look like I'm okay? Lovino wants to snap back, but he's too focused on getting his breath again. After a few more forceful hacks, whatever had lodged itself in his throat becomes unstuck, and Lovino can breathe again. He refills his lungs, noticing how he had grown to miss the mere particles of air in that short period of time.
"Lovino?" Romulus asks. He extends a hand, gently rubbing Lovino's shoulder. "Take it easy."
Lovino waves him off, pulling away from Feliciano. "I'm fine, I'm fine," He says, voice hoarse. "Wrong pipe."
"Geez," Feliciano says. "It's only a few days before your coronation, and you're going to die by choking on a piece of lamb? It wasn't even that big."
"Like I told you," Lovino jabs. "Wrong pipe." He grabs a swig of water.
"Luckily that was all," Romulus says. He smiles at Feliciano. "I must say, Feli, you've done a wonderful job on this."
"Yeah, it's not burnt like mine," Lovino adds.
"You have other talents," Feliciano says. "Just not cooking. Or eating correctly, for that matter."
"More like breathing."
"How you're going to manage your ceremony, I'm not sure,"
Lovino's stops at that, the comment, while meant to be joking, hitting him like a boulder to the chest. His fork freezes in its place, hovering over a piece of lamb. He sighs, shoulders slumping and appetite waning.
Romulus senses his dismay, and he speaks up with reassurance. "You'll get it down. We all have before, and you'll be no different."
"I bet it was easier before," Lovino mumbles.
"Actually," Romulus says. "It hasn't changed at all. It's the same routine that's been passed through millennia. I practiced the same bit that you have and hit the same bumps, too."
"What happens after the ceremony?" Feliciano pipe. up in question.
Romulus eyes his second grandson in curiosity. "What do you mean? Lovino will take the throne, of course."
"Well, yeah, but what happens to you afterwards? After Lovino becomes a Ruler?"
A silence falls over the table at the question. The answer to Feliciano's query is no secret to the angel kind. It has always been the same through millennia; when a Ruler's place on the throne comes to an end, they will pass it down to the next angel to inherit it. Afterwards, with their purpose complete, the previous Ruler will find eternal peace, something beyond Heaven's realm. One could say that they die, although more liked to put it as "entering the true Heaven." Feliciano is no stranger to this lesson in angelic history, especially being a relative of Romulus. Lovino finds his question to be quite abrupt and odd, although… in the back of his head, he can't help but wonder as well. What would happen to them? When he takes the throne, will Lovino know how to manage Heaven and all of its trials? Is he prepared enough to run the realm without his grandfather's guide? Outside of Heaven, is he ready to take on full responsibility of caring for his family, for Feliciano, for their friends? Can he handle it all so suddenly?
Romulus lets out a soft breath, setting his fork to the side of his plate. Letting the quiet air settle, he lifts his head, making eye-contact with each of his boys. Those eyes are soft. But also tired, too. They are the eyes that have witnessed many things, both wonderful and heart-wrenching.
"You two know that I will always be with you in spirit," He says, his deep voice calm and comforting, even as he reminds Lovino and Feliciano of his fate. "It won't matter that my form will not be here, or that I won't be around to sew the rips in your clothes, or brush the feathers of your wings. It won't matter if you two find yourselves in a separation from each other. I will always be with you, and you will never be alone."
"How long…?" Lovino starts. His voice is suddenly thick, hard to push out. He swallows, beginning again. "How long will you have before, y'know…"
To that, Romulus shakes his head. "I don't know, Lovino. With my father, it was three days. With his father, a few hours. I think it's different for everyone."
"I hope you stay for a long time," Feliciano says. "Ten years, at least!"
"Geez, Feli, don't you want the old man to find his peace?" Lovino scoffs. "You're so selfish."
"Am not!"
"Boys, boys," Romulus bats the air with his hand, calming the two down, but he does so with a smile. "Let us not be anxious over the things that have not met us yet. We must enjoy the time we have in the now, the present. Enjoy the company, enjoy the memories, and enjoy your food…looks like yours might be getting a bit cold, Lovino."
"Agh…!" Lovino tests a piece from his plate, grimacing. "Really? This is not the energy refill I need." The group of them laugh, reheating their food and continuing their meal. Even so, the laughter can't wash away all the solemness of the previous conversation, nor the worry of the future. It can divert the focus away from the gloomier topics, though, which is exactly what Lovino is grateful for.
And, hah, there you go! It's so weird splitting this thing up into chapters... I was tempted to post the entire 30 pages :P
I started this in the summer, so hopefully you can see improvement in the writing—I know I can, hah. I can't wait to hear your feedback and responses—please leave them!
I'll be back next week with Chapter 2!
Until then! :)
— V