The sanctum's profound silence was fractured not by a sound, but by a shift in the quality of light. The first true rays of dawn, pale and grudging, filtered through the crystalline windows, illuminating dust motes dancing like forgotten spirits in the air. They found the four figures by the door, frozen in a tender, awkward tableau: Lucifera holding the twins in a firm, auntly embrace, their faces still flushed from the garden's revelations.

Nyxara was the first to speak, her voice rough with sleep but sharp with maternal instinct. "You were gone." It was not an accusation, but a statement of profound disorientation. Her multi hued light, usually a steady aurora, flickered with the ghost of panic.

Statera pushed herself up on an elbow, her Polaris glow pulsing a gentle, questioning rhythm. "We felt… an absence. A cold space in the bed." Her gaze swept over them, taking in Lucifera's protective stance, the boy's mixture of exhaustion and strange contentment. "What happened?"

It was Lucifera who answered, and the voice that came out was not that of the Sirius Councillor. It was warm, laced with a playful, unshakable confidence. "The infants had a case of the nightmares," she said, her tone breezy as she finally released the twins, who stumbled back a step, looking sheepish. "So I took them for a pre dawn constitutional to the Lyra Gardens. To air out the bad dreams. No need for alarm. Your little storm cloud and your precious rain shower are perfectly safe. A little damp around the edges, perhaps, but safe."

Nyxara and Statera exchanged a look of sheer, unadulterated wonder. This was not the Lucifera they had known for years. This was… Luci.

"The war plans…" Statera began, a lifetime of duty nagging at her.

"Oh, blast the war plans," Nyxara declared, sinking back into the furs with a lazy, luxurious stretch. A real smile, the first in what felt like an eon, touched her lips. "Let the clans wait. Let them stew. My son is home. Our family is whole." She looked at Statera, a mischievous glint in her eye. "We'll scribble the essentials on parchment and have a servant run it down. Today… today is for us."

Statera needed no further persuasion. She relaxed back, pulling the furs up to her chin. "An excellent strategy, my Queen. The art of delegation."

Lucifera clapped her hands together softly. "Splendid! Then the day is ours. And first on the agenda… breakfast." She turned her brilliant white eyes on the twins, who immediately looked wary. "And we have a test to conduct. The Trial by Cutlery. You both insisted you were fully functional young men, capable of self sustenance. Let us see."

A simple meal of porridge and stew was brought by a silent servant. The mothers, cosy in their nest of furs, watched with rapt attention as Lucifera set two bowls before the boys. Shiro, ever the pragmatist, went first. His hand trembled as he reached for the spoon. He managed to grip it, his knuckles white with effort. For a moment, it seemed he might succeed. Then, a slight twitch from the still angry brand on his face made his whole arm jerk. The spoon clattered against the side of the bowl, splattering porridge, before slipping from his numb fingers and hitting the stone floor with a definitive clang.

"A valiant effort, my Rain Baby!" Lucifera cheered, as if he'd accomplished a great feat. "You got it all the way to the bowl! Such progress!"

Kuro scowled, determined to outperform his brother. He focused all his princely will on his hand, commanding it to obey. He reached for the spoon with deliberate slowness. But the moment his fingers made contact, a deep, throbbing ache from his shattered eye socket flared, a nauseating wave that travelled down his arm. His fingers spasmed, fumbling uselessly, unable to even close properly around the handle. He tried again, a sharp, frustrated growl escaping his lips, each attempt more pathetic than the last, his hand fluttering near the spoon like a wounded bird.

"Oh, my dear Storm Baby," Lucifera sighed with theatrical sorrow. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is tragically, hilariously weak. It seems the verdict is in." She picked up the spoon, her expression one of mock solemnity. "The infants require feeding. It is the law."

The mothers tried to protest, to rise and take over their duty, but Lucifera waved them off. "Nonsense. You've done enough. Rest. Let your dear friend, their newly official aunt, handle this."

"The verdict is in," Lucifera declared, her voice singsong. "The infants require feeding. It is the law of the sanctum."

"No," Kuro stated, his voice flat and final. He turned away, a fortress wall going up. "I am not hungry. The trial was flawed. My hand was cold."

Shiro, seeing his brother's defiance, mirrored it, shaking his head vigorously. "Not hungry. At all. Feel a bit sick, actually. Probably shouldn't eat." He made a show of pushing the bowl away. "You should just… take it away."

Lucifera's smile didn't falter. It widened. She picked up the spoon, holding it aloft like a sceptre. "Oh, my dear Storm Baby. My precious Rain Baby. This is a new phase of the trial. The Phase of Petulant Denial. I have charts on this, you know. This reaction is very predictable."

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"We are not petulant," Kuro hissed, his cheeks already flushing.

"We're making a tactical decision," Shiro insisted, though his stomach chose that moment to emit a low, betraying gurgle.

"A tactical decision to starve?" Luci asked, feigning deep concern. "How very strategic. Though, I recall a certain prince, yesterday , arguing that lying here was a 'waste of time' and that we should be 'planning.' Hard to plan on an empty stomach. The brain requires fuel. Even a brilliant, strategic one." She leaned closer to Kuro, spoon poised. "Open wide, my little tempest. The sooner you cooperate, the sooner this ends."

"I will not," Kuro gritted out, turning his head away. "This is beneath me."

"Beneath you?" Luci gasped theatrically. "This porridge? It's made from the finest glacial oats! It's practically royalty itself! It's an honour to be eaten by you!" She then turned to Shiro, who was trying to subtly slide off the stool. "And where do you think you're going, Rain Baby? Your legs, if you recall, are part of the infrastructure that failed the initial assessment. You're not going anywhere."

"I can walk!" Shiro protested, even as he winced, putting weight on his feet.

"You can hobble," Luci corrected gently. "You can wobble. You can perform a fascinating, stumbling dance of agony. But you cannot walk. Now, sit." Her tone, for the first time, held a note of gentle but absolute firmness that brooked no argument. It wasn't a command from a councillor, but an instruction from a loving aunt who knew what was best.

Shiro slumped back onto the stool with a defeated sigh.

"Good boy," Luci crooned. She shifted her attention back to Kuro. "Now. Your brother is being sensible. Don't make me call your mothers over here. I'll tell them you're being a difficult little storm cloud. She'll pinch your ear. You know she will."

Kuro's eye darted toward Nyxara, who was watching with an expression of utter delight. He knew it was true. The threat was potent. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "This is blackmail."

"It's care," Luci said, her voice softening, losing its teasing edge for a moment. "It's me wanting my nephews to have the strength to heal. To fight another day. Now, please. For me pretty please?"

The combination of the unyielding firmness and the sudden, genuine plea was the crack in his defences. Kuro let out a shuddering breath of pure frustration, his shoulders slumping in surrender. He didn't open his mouth, but he stopped turning away.

It was enough. Lucifera deftly slid the spoon between his lips. He swallowed, a look of profound, humiliated betrayal on his face.

"See? Not so terrible," she said, the teasing returning instantly. "One spoonful for the Storm Baby! A monumental victory!" She immediately turned to Shiro. "Your turn, Rain Baby! Don't let your brother show you up! He's already ahead on the compliance chart!"

Shiro groaned, but the fight had gone out of him too. He reluctantly opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful with a grimace.

"Excellent!" Lucifera beamed. "Now, wasn't that easier than all the fuss? Two brave little stars, being fed by their doting aunt. It's a beautiful picture. We should commission a painting. 'The Nourishment of the Twin Infants.' It will hang in the great hall."

The twins could only sit there, side by side, a matched set of crimson faced, utterly defeated young men, as their aunt cheerfully continued the spoonful's, her commentary a relentless, gentle, and inescapable tide of love and humiliation.

After the humiliating meal came the bath. The chamber adjoined the sanctum, dominated by a natural hot spring that steamed in the cool air. The mothers, with a strength that belied their laziness, helped their sons undress and into the healing waters. The scene was intimate, a quiet ritual of care. But Lucifera, who had followed them in, leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed, a wicked smile on her face.

As Statera gently lathered Shiro's hair and Nyxara carefully cleaned around Kuro's bandaged eye, Lucifera began her work.

"You know," she mused, her voice echoing softly in the steamy room, "I was reviewing my memory of the journey from Astralon. Such a fascinating study in contrasts. The mighty Storm Baby, hanging over my shoulder like a very angry, very dignified sack of potatoes. And the Rain Baby, trying so hard to walk straight while looking like a newborn fawn on an icy lake."

The twins stiffened in the water. "Aunty Luci, please," Shiro groaned.

"We were injured!" Kuro snapped, his voice tight.

"Oh, I know!" Luci said, her eyes sparkling. "That's what made it so wonderfully poignant. The sheer, unadulterated pathos. The defiance in the face of utter physical collapse. It was almost poetic. Or perhaps just… pathetically adorable."

She continued, her voice a gentle, relentless torment. "And the sounds! The grumbling. The muttered protests. 'I am not an infant.' 'This is undignified.' It was like listening to two disgruntled kittens trying to argue."

The boys were simmering, the therapeutic heat of the water doing nothing to cool their rising irritation. Their embarrassment was a tangible heat in the steam filled room.

"Are you quite done?" Nyxara asked, though she was fighting a laugh as she rinsed Kuro's hair.

"Done?" Lucifera pushed off the doorframe, her smile widening. "My dear Drizzle, I've only just begun."

The use of the old, deeply buried nickname made Nyxara gasp, then burst into genuine laughter. "You haven't called me that since the academy!"

"It suits the moment," Luci replied smoothly. She winked at Statera. "And you, my perfect Polaris. Don't think I've forgotten the 'Scented Sachet Spectre.' You haunted that linen closet with a dedication that was truly ghostly."

Statera flushed, but she was smiling. "Oh, Luci. We haven't seen you like this… well, since forever. It's… it's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," Lucifera said, and her voice held a note of profound sincerity beneath the teasing. She then turned her attention back to the boys, who were now trying to sink beneath the water to escape. "But my primary duty is to my nephews. And I did warn you. The teasing would increase. This…" she gestured around the bath, "…this is just the beginning. A gentle introduction. You think this is relentless? Just wait until you're fully healed. I have eons of material stored up."

Shiro and Kuro looked at each other, a mixture of utter exasperation and reluctant affection on their faces. They were trapped in a web of loving torment, and they both knew, with a sinking, yet strangely warm feeling, that there was no escape.

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