Chapter 6: Our's

Aslan moved silently into the Observation Wing. Lev was already there, standing perfectly still, his attention locked on the child. The little girl looked impossibly small in the center of the large, sterile bed. Lev stood far back, almost pressed against the viewing glass, as if he was afraid his very presence might disturb her.

Lev's eyes flickered to him for a second, acknowledging him, before snapping right back to the child.

Aslan came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Lev's chest. He felt the cold metal of the data pad still clutched tightly in his lover's hand. He gently guided Lev forward, moving them both silently closer to the bed.

"Aslan, she is so beautiful," Lev whispered.

"Her hair is black, like ebony." Gaining courage from Aslan's embrace, he reached out a trembling hand and lightly touched her hair.

"It's so soft." He couldn't seem to pull his hand away.

"She is," Aslan murmured back, resting his chin on Lev's shoulder.

"And look how tender her skin is." He stroked the child’s cheek with the softest part of his palm. But even that gentle touch left a faint red mark on her pale skin. Lev recoiled, snatching his hand back as if he’d been burned. He stared, horrified, afraid to touch her again.

Aslan saw the panic and gently rubbed the back of Lev's hand, comforting him without words.

"Who... who could be so cruel...?" Lev trailed off, the words choking him.

"To torture a child this small and leave her like... like trash." His voice hardened.

"I'm going to kill them, Aslan. By Fenrir's Unbreakable Chain, I swear it. I will kill whoever did this. I don't care about the law." Lev's eyes were red, burning with pure hatred.

Aslan quickly turned Lev to face him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He planted small, firm kisses on the top of his head.

"Don't worry, Langga. I already have every personnel searching the galaxy. They will not escape. I've also sent a request to the capital. The Emperor will not let this stand."

Lev suddenly pulled back, his eyes staring wildly into Aslan's.

"She's ours."

His voice was low and fervent.

"She's ours, Aslan. Our child. It has to be. Why else would we find her? In our garden?"

Aslan’s eyes widened. This was a dangerous, desperate hope.

"Lev, Langga, listen to me," Aslan said gently, trying to pull his lover back from the emotional ledge.

"We can care for her now. We will protect her. But if she has a family..."

He saw the possessive, dangerous storm gathering in Lev's eyes and knew how much his lover already saw this child as his own. Aslan, however, was a ruler. He understood the cold, brutal politics of their empire.

A child, any child, was the rarest, most valuable prize in the entire Royal Fenrir Empire. The moment the true news of her existence spread, every minor house, every ambitious family, and every distant branch of the nobility would be scrambling. They would be tearing through their ancient blood-logs and genetic archives.

If any person, no matter how distant or insignificant, could prove even the slightest blood tie to this girl, the Empire's ancient Succession Laws would give them a powerful, almost unbreakable claim.

In their world, a child wasn't just a life. A child was an heir. An heir was a future. This little girl wasn't just a person to be saved. She was a dynastic treasure, a political key that could elevate a dying bloodline to unimaginable power.

Aslan couldn't bear the thought of Lev's devastation. He couldn't watch his lover pour his entire heart into this child, only to have some ambitious, distant cousin arrive with a legal order, backed by Imperial decree, to have her forcibly taken away.

"What family?!" Lev pushed himself away from Aslan, his voice a harsh whisper to avoid waking the child.

"They tortured her, Aslan! They shot her and left her to die! They are monsters! They don't want her. But I do. I want her." His look was manic, his teeth gritted.

Aslan reached out, pulling Lev back into his arms. Despite the political hell that would break loose, the claims, the fights, the ancient laws, Aslan could no longer deny the simple truth in Lev's voice.

"Of course, Langga, of course we want her. The child is adorable... and she does look a bit like you." He held Lev tightly, rubbing his back.

"I'll make sure we keep her."

He wasn't just saying it to comfort his husband. As he held Lev, Aslan's mind was moving with a cold, sharp resolve. He was hell-bent on making it true.

He was a Marquess of the Empire. His ancient bloodline, his title, and the stability of the entire Aetheria Galaxy depended on a successor. For centuries, this one simple, biological need had been his greatest failure.

And now, by Fenrir's Will, his lover had found her. A miracle. A pure, untouched child. The words from the medical terminal burned in his mind: No Gene-Injections.

A profound, almost reverent realization settled over him. This child was free from the elixirs that had stolen his people's future. This meant she would be spared the millenniums of quiet agony he and Lev had endured. She would grow up, and one day, if she chose, she could have a family of her own without the curse of their immortal barrenness.

She wasn't just an heir. She was a true future. She was a life that could flourish naturally, a symbol of the very thing this empire had lost.

He looked down at the tiny, fragile girl. Lev saw a daughter to be cherished. Aslan saw that, too. And he also saw the salvation and rebirth of his entire House. He would not let her go. Any family that tried to claim her, any distant blood tie, any dusty, ancient law, he would fight it. Legal or illegal, by right or by force, this child was now, and forever, of the House of Aetheria.

Lev sagged against him, a soft "Mmm" of agreement vibrating in his chest. He knew Aslan would stay true to his word. He always did.

They stood there in the quiet, holding each other, their gaze fixed on the small, sleeping form. A life so precious, it hurt.