The Sovereign

The grand, ossified judgment of the Corona Regis did not end at the archway; it was a psychic residue that clung to them like cosmic dust, a pall of humiliation that made the very air taste of ash and shattered pride. The walk to the Lyra Gardens was a funeral procession through a silent, watching city of stone.

Kuro did not stop crying.

Lucifera held him firmly, a silent, steady monolith. Shiro, on Lyara's back, finally broke the silence, his voice a small, awed whisper. "He's… he's really broken, isn't he?"

"Hush, my good, quiet Rain Baby," Statera murmured, reaching up to pat his leg. "Your brother isn't broken. He's just… having a very big, very messy feeling. His storm got too big for his wittle body to hold, that's all. It happens to the best of infants. Why, your Aunty Lyra once cried so hard she harmonized with a seismic event. The mountains sang back."

"They did," Lyra confirmed dreamily. "It was a duet of despair. Beautifully tragic."

They crossed into the Lyra Gardens, and the dimensional shift was immediate. Lucifera knelt, settling Kuro against the warm rock. He was a portrait of despair.

"Oh, my poor, soggy storm cloud," Nyxara crooned, settling beside him. "Did the big, mean court make the widdle prince have a big, bad feeling? Did all those icky eyes make your tummy hurt? Do you need your mommy to kiss it better?"

Kuro could only respond with a muffled, hitching "Mmmph!" around the pacifier.

"See?" Statera said, pulling a now blushing Shiro into a cuddle on the moss. "He's trying to say 'yes, Mommy, my tummy hurts and my pride is ouchy!' Isn't that right, Storm Baby?"

Lucifera observed him. "Aww he's blushing like always so endearing my wittle storm."

"The best medicine," Lyra agreed.

They let him breathe. Then Nyxara's voice grew firm. "The punishment is over, Kuro. The hour has passed. The lesson is learned, isn't it, my tempest? Has my wittle storm cloud blown himself out? Are you all empty of naughty, stormy words?"

Lucifera leaned forward. "I believe it's time. But first, we must be sure. Has the naughty baby learned that nasty words get you nasty consequences? Will you be a good boy for your mommies and aunties from now on? No more bad words from the prince?"

There was a long, tense pause. Kuro's head gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. A fresh wave of shame filled tears welled in his eyes.

"Was that a nod?" Statera gasped theatrically. "Lyra, did you see? I think the Storm Baby nodded! He's going to be good!"

"I saw it!" Lyra chirped. "The song of rebellion has faded! The canticle of compliance begins!"

"Then the yucky medicine can come out," Nyxara declared.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Lucifera reached out. "Open wide, my dear," she whispered.

He did, his jaw trembling. The stone slid out with a soft, final pop.

What are you? The 4 chorused in perfect harmony?

The effect was instantaneous. A spectacular, full body blush erupted on Kuro's skin. He tried to speak, but only a ragged, wet sob escaped. "I… I…"

"Aww, look at that blush!" Nyxara exclaimed. "It's like a solar flare! Our very own crimson giant! Does the widdle storm feel all naked and embarrassed without his paci?"

"I am… your infant," Kuro choked out, the words torn from him. The admission made the blush deepen so dramatically that Shiro stared in awe, his own cheeks pinking in sympathy.

"And what do infants do?" Nyxara pressed.

"…They listen… to their mothers. They… they are good. They don't... use foul language. They don't throw... tantrums." Each word was agony. "I... I don't ever want to be seen like that again. I don't want to be... that."

The women exhaled as one, their stern masks dissolving into overwhelming tenderness.

"Oh, my storm baby," Nyxara whispered, gathering him in. "You won't be."

"We are so sorry, my love," Statera said, joining the embrace.

"A lesson you needed," Lucifera murmured, her cool hand stroking his hair. "Forgive your cruel aunties and mommies."

Lyra completed the circle. "The song of correction is a harsh one. Now begins the song of forgiveness."

Enveloped in them, Kuro melted. After a long moment, he mumbled into Nyxara's shoulder. "Can you… can you tell Aquilina… I'm sorry? For my… my language. It was..."

The request triggered an explosion of gushing, teasing adoration.

"AWWWWW!" Nyxara squealed, rocking him. "He's apologizing! Our wittle storm is so, so sorry! His widdle heart is all full of remorse!"

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"He's learning his manners!" Statera cheered, kissing his head.

"Such a good boy," Lucifera said, her voice warm with pride. "Apologizing to the nice lady."

It was then that Kuro, bolstered by their affection yet crushed by a final, lingering weight of guilt, slowly pulled back. He looked down at his hands, his voice barely a whisper, but clear in the harmonic air. "And... and I'm sorry... to all of you." A torrent of fat tears escaped and rolled down his cheek, which he quickly, futilely, wiped away with a trembling hands. "For... for being so difficult. For the things I said. I didn't... I didn't mean them."

The air stilled. This was beyond the scripted apology. This was raw, unprompted, and utterly genuine.

Before he could say more, or wipe away the next tear, Lucifera moved with that preternatural Sirius speed. Her hands shot under his arms, and with an effortless, hoisting motion, she lifted him from the ground, holding him aloft before her like a truly oversized, utterly defeated newborn. His legs dangled, his face a mess of tears and a blush that could power a small star.

"And what is this?" Lucifera cooed, her voice a blend of mock sternness and profound emotion. She bounced him gently, a subtle, humiliating rock. "Are these more tears? Is my wittle Storm Baby crying because he's a good boy now? Because he's sorry for being a naughty, shouty infant?"

Kuro, suspended in her grip, could only nod, another tear tracing a path through the blush on his cheek. He was past even verbal surrender.

Lucifera's brilliant white eyes glistened. She pulled him close, hugging him tightly against her chest. "Oh, my darling boy," she whispered, and her voice hitched, a single, perfect tear of her own escaping to trace a path down her alabaster cheek. "I am so... so proud of you." She looked over his shoulder at the other women, her expression radiant. "We are all so proud, right? Our fierce, proud, stormy little infant, learning to be sweet."

"SO PROUD!" Nyxara and Statera chorused, their voices thick with happy tears.

"The most beautiful, repentant melody!" Lyra added, dabbing at her own eyes with a silken sleeve.

Lucifera held him there for a long moment, this living, breathing testament to their victory, before finally, gently, setting him back on the moss, where he slumped against Nyxara, spent.

Shiro, watching this entire display, had given up all pretence of composure. He was curled in Statera's lap, his face buried in her robe, his own shoulders shaking with silent, overwhelmed emotion. When he looked up, his single eye was glassy. "Mother?" he whispered. "Can I… have a..cuddle..."

Statera's Polaris light flared with incandescent joy. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Rain Baby! Of course you can! You are being such a good, cuddly boy! Come here, my love!" She pulled him into her lap, wrapping him tightly and showering his head with kisses, which he accepted with a soft, contented sigh, nuzzling against her, his own blush a permanent, warm glow.

For a while, they simply held the twins, the baby talk a gentle, cleansing rain.

"Look at them," Lyra mused, her voice a dreamy melody. "The Storm Baby, all calm and snuggly after his big storm. And the Rain Baby, so sweet and quiet, accepting his shower of love. It's a perfect, symmetrical picture."

"Just like their stars," Statera agreed, nuzzling Shiro's hair. "My steady, bright Polaris Rain Baby. Always there, always shining, even when he's just a widdle damp cloud."

"And my fierce, dramatic Altair Storm Baby," Nyxara said, kissing Kuro's forehead. He flinched at the nickname but didn't pull away, a sure sign of his defeated defences. "Even his apologies have gravitas. He doesn't just say sorry; he enacts a cosmic drama of remorse."

"Altair is an interesting choice," Lucifera mused, now sitting back and observing them all with a scientific fondness. "Part of Aquila, the Eagle. It speaks to a lofty, soaring spirit, but one with talons. A hunter's focus. But I still maintain his emotional volatility is more akin to a variable star in Cepheus. Predictable in its cycle of outburst and calm, but spectacular in its intensity."

"And Shiro," Lyra said, turning her luminous gaze to him. "You see his steadfastness as Polaris, Statera, and you are not wrong. But there is a depth to his empathy, a vast, swirling capacity to feel that reminds me of the Great Nebula in Orion. A cradle of new light born from chaos and dust. His tears are not just rain; they are stars, healing and creating anew."

Shiro hid his face deeper against Statera, a muffled "I'm not a nebula..." escaping him, which only made the women laugh.

"You are our wittle nebula!" Statera cooed, rocking him. "Our glowing cloud of feelings!"

Kuro, finding a sliver of his old self, mumbled against Nyxara, "And I am not a... a variable tantrum star."

"Oh, but you are, my tempest!" Nyxara laughed, squeezing him. "You are our most beloved, predictable, dramatic variable star! We can set our clocks by your magnificent sulks!"

It was Shiro who, nestled in Statera's arms, finally voiced the question burning in him. He looked from Nyxara to Lucifera, his expression bewildered. "Do you… do you not feel any of it? The humiliation? The way they looked at us? Their eyes… their silent laughter… it was like being skinned alive. Does it really not bother you?" He gestured between them. "How come, before, we could say 'Aunty Nyx' or 'Aunty Lucifera' or 'Mother' and you'd go red? But now… after that… you don't even react. No embarrassment. Nothing. How? How can you just… I don't know… not care?"

The four women looked at each other, a slow, shared, knowing smile spreading across their faces, a silent conversation passing between them in the language of eons.

Nyxara answered first, her voice a soft, cosmic whisper. "Oh, my precious, silly Rain Baby," she cooed, reaching out to pinch his blazing cheek. "Why would we care about the opinions of dust that has learned to whisper? They are set dressing. Their judgment is a feather against the gravitational pull of a black hole. And our love for you is the black hole, my darling. It is an inescapable, cosmic fact."

Lucifera nodded, her brilliant white eyes holding his. "The shame you feel is a language spoken by small souls in small rooms, my Storm Baby. We exist in the grand cathedral of the void. Our love for you is the only liturgy we recognize. Their laughter is static. Your blush is a supernova. One is meaningless noise; the other is a beautiful, powerful, and utterly endearing event that we are privileged to witness."

Statera took his hand. "They see a spectacle. We see our sons. Their eyes are made of glass and shadow. Ours are made of stars. How could we possibly compare the two? You could never, ever embarrass us, because what we feel for you is beyond embarrassment. It is foundation of our entire essence."

Lyra finished, her voice the final, harmonious chord. "You ask how we cannot care? Because we love you. We love you so, so, so much. More than words could ever express. More than any star could burn. More than the void is cold. It is a fact of the universe, a fundamental constant. And you cannot embarrass a fundamental constant, my darlings. You can only celebrate it. You can only cuddle it, and tease it, and call it your wittle Storm Baby and your wittle Rain Baby forever and ever, until the last light in the cosmos winks out."

Their answers, a blend of heartfelt cosmic truth and gentle, unshakable baby talk, finally pinned the understanding into place. It wasn't that they were immune to shame. It was that their love for him was a force of nature so immense, so absolute, that it rendered the very concept of external humiliation meaningless. In the face of that, the court, the envoys, the entire whispering, judging cosmos, was nothing but fading noise.