Chapter 3 - Breakfast for Kings  

Anastasia barely stirred, her breath warm against the pillow as she felt the faintest pressure tighten around her waist. Slowly, she turned her head, exhaling softly. That hand—she knew it anywhere. Large, familiar, protective. Bastian. A gentle warmth spread through her chest, a quiet, intimate joy. He was here. He was holding her like he used to, even if he didn't remember. Even if he had no idea what this meant to her. His steady breathing was right near her ear, his body naturally molding against hers in sleep. It was second nature to him. He didn't even realize it. But she did. And as the comfort of the moment wrapped around her, she let herself drift back into slumber.

Morning came too soon. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. She stirred slightly at the movement beside her. His hand—still there—lingered for a second too long before retreating. Carefully. Hesitantly.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned, only to find him staring back at her. And not just staring—frozen. After a few moments, a mix of embarrassment and sheer disbelief painted across his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—" His voice came out strained, unsure.

"It's okay," she whispered, offering him a small smile.

"No." He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the entire moment. "I don't do this. I don't even know how I got up here."

Anastasia studied him, seeing the war in his eyes. "It was your mind doing something out of habit."

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp, questioning. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated, then answered softly, "You used to cuddle with me like this when we were younger. Ever since we were teenagers. My dad always made me leave the door open, but you'd hold me like this every time. It was natural for you."

Bastian's entire body went rigid. He yanked his hand back like it had been burned, bolting upright as if he needed as much distance as possible. "You shouldn't be so accepting of my behavior," he muttered, his jaw clenching. "It's improper."

Anastasia sighed, seeing the panic in his eyes and the way he tried to rationalize something he didn't understand. She decided to throw him a lifeline. "Are you hungry, Bass?"

His head snapped toward her, his entire posture stiff. "What did you just call me?"

"Bass…" She said it again, softer this time, watching as his brow furrowed. His lips parted slightly, confusion clouding his features as if a distant memory tried to claw its way back to him.

Anastasia didn't push. Instead, she simply said, "Meet you downstairs for breakfast."

The dining table was more crowded than usual. Normally, breakfast was casual, but with the new additions—angels freed from the battlefield—there was no choice but to gather around the larger table.

Ana's father, Wyatt looked uncharacteristically relaxed, enjoying the lively atmosphere as Bastian's angel comrades shared their stories. One by one, they revealed the reasons they had been imprisoned. Trixie had been sentenced to twenty human years for defying her Seraphim parents. Hugh and Jacob had been condemned for fraternizing with humans—forty years. Phillip, desperate to prove himself, had snuck into the battlefield and taken on three hordes of monsters alone. His punishment? Fifty years.

"Your parents really loved you guys," Matt Goodwin scoffed, shoveling food into his mouth.

The angels chuckled, though there was an undeniable weight behind their laughter. "They tried to guide us," Phillip admitted. "But we were… difficult."

Sean Goodwin leaned forward, brows raised. "And what if you guys had died?"

Silence. Then, a shrug from Trixie. "Oh well."

"Angels don't fear death the way humans do," Hugh added. "You shouldn't be afraid, either. Humans ascend to the celestial plane when they perish."

Wyatt nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think it's death itself we fear. It's the unknown. Not knowing what happens next." His gaze flickered, the weight of his own losses settling in. "But if death isn't the end… well, let's just say, this family is less afraid of it than we used to be."

Anastasia studied her father, something shifting inside her. He was thinking of her mother. And for the first time in a long time, he looked at peace.

"I think the real fear," she murmured, "is losing the people we love and never seeing them again in this life."

The angels exchanged glances, understanding crossing their faces. Even Elijah, normally unreadable, gave her a small nod of respect.

"That makes sense," Hugh admitted.

"Well, its not like we getting rid of you lot anytime soon," Matt smirked. "You apparently all are hard to kill."

Laughter filled the room—until Bastian entered. The mood shifted instantly. Conversations hushed. Eyes turned toward him.

Bastian stiffened. "What?"

"Nothing, buddy." Phillip grinned, scooting over to make room. "Come. Try this human food. It's delicious. Fit for kings I'd say."

Anastasia bit her lip as Bastian hesitated, then finally took a seat. She wasn't sure why, but he still seemed... lost. Like he wasn't sure where he belonged.

"So, Ana," Sean piped up, "what's the plan for today?"

Anastasia pushed her food around her plate. "I was thinking of going to The Drake."

Silence. The tension in the air thickened instantly.

Sean shifted uncomfortably. "Are you taking…?"

"Yes."

Matt frowned. "Isn't that a bit soon?"

"No." Anastasia's voice was firm. "Not soon enough."

Jacob tilted his head. "What's The Drake?"

"It's a hotel," Matt started, then hesitated. "More specifically, there's a rooftop where Ana—"

"There's a rooftop I go to when I need space," Anastasia cut in quickly. "It's beautiful."

Matt, however, wasn't done. "It's also the place where you almost—"

"Not now, Matt." Anastasia's voice was sharp, her glare cutting off any further mention of that night.

Phillip, ever the adventurer, clapped his hands together. "Sounds intriguing. When do we leave?"

Elijah shook his head. "Anastasia needs to do this alone. With Bastian."

Bastian looked up from his plate, his expression unreadable. "No thanks."

For a split second, her mask cracked. Hurt flickered across Anastasia's face, but she recovered quickly, forcing a smile. "That's okay. Another time."

But the pitying looks from around the table made her want to disappear.

Clearing her throat, she pushed back her chair. "I need to go to the academy. I need to resign."

Wyatt straightened as he realized he wanted to spend as much time with his daughter before she leaves in a month. "Do you need me to take you, sweetheart?"

She hesitated. "Actually… yeah. I'd like that."

Just as they were clearing their plates, the front door slammed open.

A voice echoed through the house. "Helloooo? Anyone home?"

Wyatt, Matt, and Anastasia froze.

Footsteps. And then—

Billy strolled in, all smiles, Rose by his side. "Did I miss a party?"

But the second his eyes landed on Bastian, the smile vanished.

His entire body went rigid.

And the room dropped into silence.