Ancestral Lineage - Chapter 480
Chapter 480: Mother and Sons
“Don’t dwell on it too much. Although your father can’t interfere, it doesn’t mean someone else can’t…” A beautiful, mature woman with long red hair, deep green eyes, long black ram-like horns, and dark skin spoke as she caressed the hair of a man with white, red eyes and pale skin, while she stared at another with silvery-white hair and mismatched golden-silver eyes.
She was Madeleine Elmira Smith, the wife of the Golden Emissary, Zark, and the mother of Ethan and Trevor. They were currently all alone within her quarters, mother and sons, to talk.
She wasn’t the once-feared woman in the kingdom, and even in some parts of the world. She was a mother now to her two sons, two kids who had been forced to grow and mature early due to the whims of Fate.
Trevor was currently seated on the floor of the living room with his head on his mother’s lap as she caressed his soft and silky hair, while Ethan sat beside her on the sofa. But even he couldn’t escape his mother’s affectionate caresses.
“…I know, but Lamair is my best friend, our best friend. He’s like an older brother to us. He has already died before, we can’t stand it if he dies again…” Trevor spoke, his eyes turning cloudy as he recalled the day as if it were just a few seconds ago.
He remembered the beast’s roar… a beast he could kill a hundred times over now, by just waving his hand. He remembered the presence of death and Ethan’s broken cry. He remembered the crimson pillar, which was actually Ethan gone berserk, and all hell broke loose.
Berserk Ethan destroyed the beast, and all this was caused by the hateful Leon. What angered him the most was that Lamair was just a calculated casualty in the process of his wicked deeds.
Just thinking of it made him want to kill Leon over and over.
BONK!
“Ouch!” Trevor suddenly held his head, his face twisted in an expression of pain and confusion.
“Don’t use your power in my living room, brat!” Madeleine scolded him with her hand raised, ready to give him another hit.
“Okay, Okay! Jeez…”
“As I was saying… although it is dangerous and it looks like there’s no hope, there’s hope. It seems you are forgetting something, Ethan.
Lamair is the Ancestor of Death. His title puts him above all the gods of Death. All beings except for the Primordial Death are beneath him. Do you really believe he would be allowed to even die? Do you believe, He, would allow that?” Madeleine spoke seriously, looking Ethan straight in his mismatched eyes.
The intensity of her stare made Ethan cower a bit. Even if he was a celestial or the primord, he was below his mother, and his pride wouldn’t allow a staring contest between them.
“I honestly didn’t think of that…” Ethan spoke with his head down.
Madeleine’s hand paused in Ethan’s hair. For a moment, the room was quiet, warm, heavy with memory and unspoken fears. Then she smiled. Not the gentle, motherly smile she wore most days, but the sharper one. The one that used to make generals rethink their life choices.
“That’s because,” she said calmly, “you’re too busy carrying the weight of everyone else to remember that Fate doesn’t get the final vote. Not in this family.”
Ethan let out a slow breath, shoulders loosening just a fraction. Trevor shifted on her lap, staring up at the ceiling like he was trying to punch holes through it with his thoughts.
“So… what you’re saying,” Trevor muttered, “is that Lamair isn’t allowed to die because the universe signed a contract it can’t break.”
“Something like that,” Madeleine replied, amused.
Ethan straightened. The golden-silver in his eyes sharpened, not flaring, not divine, just resolved.
“Still,” he said, “I’m not letting him walk into the Underworld alone.”
Trevor’s head snapped up. “You too?”
Ethan nodded. “After the naming ceremony. Once Selene and Sol are officially welcomed… I’m going with him.”
Trevor grinned, sharp and feral. “Good. Because if you tried to stop me, I would’ve followed anyway.”
Madeleine sighed theatrically. “Of course you would. Why would my sons ever choose the safe option when the catastrophic one is right there, glowing ominously?”
“We learned from the best,” Trevor shot back.
Her eyebrow twitched.
Ethan smirked. “Mother… you’re not denying that.”
She clicked her tongue. “You’re both impossible.”
Trevor rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Speaking of impossible… It’s been a very long time since we’ve seen you actually do anything.”
Madeleine blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You know,” Trevor continued innocently, “fight. Conquer. Terrify reality a little. The classics.”
“I am retired,” she said firmly. “I bake. I garden. I raise children.”
Ethan tilted his head, studying her like a scholar examining a suspicious artifact, his circular spectacles, wherever he’d gotten them from, tilted on his nose.
“…You’ve definitely gotten rusty.”
The room went very, very still.
Rusty?
Madeleine slowly turned her gaze toward him. The air pressure shifted. Somewhere far away, a goose developed anxiety for no reason at all.
“Rusty,” she repeated softly.
Trevor scooted backward on the floor. “He said it. Not me. Just clarifying.”
Ethan, to his credit, didn’t back down. He shrugged.
“You’ve been a mother for decades. No wars. No campaigns. No apocalyptic incidents. Statistically speaking,”
She flicked his forehead.
Not hard.
Precise.
Ethan hit the couch anyway.
The cushions detonated under him as he bounced, rolled, and ended up sprawled on the floor, staring at the ceiling in stunned silence.
Trevor stared. “…You didn’t even use power.”
Madeleine stood, stretching leisurely. Her horns caught the light, shadows dancing across the walls as something ancient stirred beneath her calm exterior.
“Rusty?” she said sweetly. “I could dismantle both of you with one hand tied behind my back and still make dinner on time.”
Ethan slowly sat up, rubbing his forehead.
“…Noted.”
Trevor swallowed. “Extremely noted.”
She smiled again, warm this time, affectionate.
“After the ceremony,” she continued, “you may accompany Lamair. Both of you. But remember this…”
Her gaze hardened just enough to make gods flinch.
“If the Underworld thinks it can touch my children or their brother… then it’s the Underworld that will learn it’s been careless.”
Ethan and Trevor exchanged a glance.
Then, in perfect unison, they grinned.
Yeah.
They definitely learned from the best.
The door creaked open without ceremony.
Zark stepped in, barefoot, hair loose and cascading down his back like he’d lost a fight with a pillow and accepted defeat. He wore a simple dark shirt and loose trousers, the kind of clothes no one in the empire would ever believe belonged to the Golden Emissary unless they saw it with their own eyes.
He blinked once.
Then twice.
“…Why does the room feel like someone almost started a war?”
Madeleine didn’t even turn around. “Because someone accused me of being rusty.”
Zark’s brows rose slowly as he looked at Ethan, who was still on the floor, sitting cross-legged and pretending this was his natural habitat.
“…Bold choice,” Zark said at last.
Trevor snorted, burying his face into a cushion. “He died instantly.”
Ethan pointed upward. “I survived. Barely.”
Zark hummed, walking over and dropping onto the armchair like a man who had absolutely no intention of protecting an empire today. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back lazily.
“I leave you alone for one nap.”
“You were snoring,” Trevor added helpfully.
“Lies.”
“It shook the curtains,” Ethan said.
Zark squinted. “Traitors. Both of you.”
Madeleine finally turned, folding her arms. “You raised them.”
“That explains everything,” Zark replied smoothly, then glanced at Ethan. “So. Floor. New throne?”
“Temporary exile,” Ethan said. “Apparently, I offended a myth.”
“Correction,” Madeleine said sweetly. “You offended me.”
Zark winced in sympathy. “Ah. Rookie mistake. I made that once.”
Trevor’s head snapped up. “Once?”
Zark smiled faintly. “I still limp when it rains.”
The room broke into laughter, real laughter, the kind that loosened the knots left behind by gods, underworlds, and looming destinies.
Zark leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So. Let me guess. Big decisions were made. Heroic ones. Possibly stupid.”
Ethan shrugged. “We’re going with Lamair after the ceremony.”
Zark nodded like Ethan had just told him the sky was blue. “Of course you are.”
No lecture. No warning. Just acceptance.
Trevor frowned. “That’s it?”
Zark looked at him. “What, you want me to ground you?”
“…Maybe a little concern?”
Zark thought about it. Then shook his head. “You’re grown. Dangerous. Overqualified for listening to advice. Besides…” he glanced at Madeleine “…you’ve got your mother.”
Trevor paled. “Say less.”
Madeleine smirked.
Zark leaned back again, stretching. “Naming ceremony soon. Empire’s losing its mind. Twins glowing like miniature constellations. Cultists handing out dolls.”
Ethan groaned. “I approved the festival, not the dolls.”
“There’s one of you holding both babies and shooting lightning,” Zark added.
“…Burn it.”
“No promises.”
Silence settled again, but this time it was comfortable. Warm. The kind that only existed when the universe wasn’t watching.
Zark closed his eyes. “You know,” he murmured, “for all the chaos… this is nice.”
Ethan looked at his parents. At Trevor. In the room that, just for now, was free of fate.
“…Yeah,” he said softly. “It really is.”