The manor buzzed from sunrise. Servants scurried through the halls, sweeping dust from marble floors, polishing silver until it gleamed like ice. The Bonaventura crest  the crimson snake — was displayed everywhere. Word had come by raven at dawn: 

the Duke and Duchess Bonaventura, Lanastha’s parents, would arrive by mid-day tomorrow.

Ezekiel watched the preparations from the landing above the great hall. Soldiers straightened banners, gardeners trimmed hedges into perfect lines. Even the stable hands scrubbed the cobblestones until they shone. It was strange to see so much effort for family, rather than for an imperial inspector or royal envoy.

Rue stood beside him, arms crossed.

 “They’re doing all this because your grandparents are… intense,” he said. “Not cruel. Just hawks through and through.”

“Are they like Mother?” Ezekiel asked.

Rue’s mouth twitched, as if suppressing a laugh. “No. They smile more. But don’t let that fool you. When they give an order, the whole manor jumps.”

Ezekiel chewed his lip. “What if they don’t like me?”

“They will,” Rue said simply. “You’re their grandson. That’s enough.”

That night, Ezekiel couldn’t sleep. Too much anticipation churned inside him and an odd ache from Edric’s words at dinner the night before. Somewhere in this house were portraits of his mother, painted against her will by an Emperor who couldn’t let her go. Somewhere beyond this house were grandparents who might love him. Somewhere in the ground lay the man who’d risked everything to save him.

Sleep finally took him in the small hours… and brought a dream unlike any other.

The garden was drenched in late-afternoon gold. A marble fountain murmured softly, surrounded by tall rosebushes. And there, under the arch of an old elm tree, stood a man with shoulder-length purple hair and eyes the color of silver stars.

Ezekiel knew him instantly  though he had never seen him before.
Father.

Opposite him stood a much younger Lanastha. She wasn’t wearing her usual cold mask. The crimson of her eyes shone softer, almost shy. A simple white dress clung to her like mist.

“I wish we could always be together,” Ermes said, voice warm and steady. 

He reached into his coat and drew out a small silver ring set with a single purple stone nothing ostentatious, nothing imperial, just a promise.

Lanastha’s lips parted in surprise. For a moment she looked like she might cry. Then, for the first time in Ezekiel’s life 

 past or present 

 He saw her smile.

“Yes!” she shouted, laughing as she threw her arms around him. “Yes, you idiot! Of course yes!”

Ermes slipped the ring onto her finger, and they kissed as the garden around them blurred in moonlight.

Ezekiel woke with tears on his cheeks and his heart pounding. The morning light slanted through his window, soft and pale. He sat up slowly, clutching his chest.

He’d never heard her laugh before.
He’d never even imagined her smiling like that.

This wasn’t just a dream. It felt real.

Rue knocked on the door and stepped inside without waiting for an answer. “Up already? Good. You’ve got about six hours to make yourself look presentable. If you embarrass your mother in front of the Duke and Duchess, I’m not saving you.”

Ezekiel blinked at him, still dazed. “Rue… my father… he proposed to her. I saw it.”

Rue paused. “What are you talking about?”

“It was real,” Ezekiel whispered. “The garden… the ring… she said yes.”

Rue studied him for a long moment, then sighed. “Looks like your bloodline gift woke up early. Bonaventuras can see the past and sometimes the future in their dreams. If you saw it, it happened.”

Ezekiel nodded slowly, his heart still racing. “She loved him. She really loved him.”

“Of course she did,” Rue said, softer than usual. “She still does. She just doesn’t show it.” He clapped Ezekiel lightly on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you ready to meet the rest of your family.”