Chapter Text
The package arrived without much fanfarethree days before the ceremony Harry did not yet know was his.
That, in retrospect, should have been the first warning.
It came by Aqua’kini courier, which immediately made Harry suspicious, because the last time Killigan had sent him a small, elegant case by courier, it had contained enough jewels to make Master Aster sit down and reconsider the financial stability of the entire shop.
So when Harry found the lacquered blue-green box waiting on his worktable, sealed with the Aqua’kini royal mark and tied with a ribbon the color of deep water, he did not touch it at first.
He stared at it.
Hedwig, perched on the back of a nearby chair, stared at it too.
“That is not helpful,” Harry told her.
Hedwig clicked her beak.
“It could be jewels again.”
Another click.
“I know that does not sound like a problem, but it becomes one when Killigan uses the phrase a few small things and means a chest worth enough money to buy a minor island.”
Hedwig ruffled herself in clear judgment.
Harry sighed and reached for the box.
The moment his fingers brushed the seal, it warmed and unfolded, releasing with a soft pulse of water-blue magic. The lid opened.
Harry braced himself.
No gemstones.
No deadly jewelry components.
No rare Aqua’kini stones that would make a dragon blush.
Instead, the box was filled with letters.
Old letters.
Well-worn letters.
The edges were softened from handling, the folds creased and re-creased as if someone had read them far too many times over the years. Some had faint watermarks from Aqua’kini seal-magic. Others smelled very faintly of Emerald Hollow’s old paper and Maurice’s study.
Harry’s suspicion deepened.
On top sat a note addressed to him in Killigan’s elegant, sweeping hand.
Harry picked it up.
Harry,
Inside you will find some letters about you from Al and Maurice, written when you first arrived in Nevarah and we discovered you were Aqua’kini. I hope you find as much humor in them as I have over the years.
Enjoy.
Killigan
Harry stared at the note.
Then at the box.
Then back at the note.
“Oh no,” he said softly.
Hedwig leaned forward.
Harry picked up the first letter.
The script was sharp, formal, royal, and already annoyed.
Lord Elswood,
It has come to the attention of the Aqua’kini Court that Harrison James Potter carries verified Aqua’kini lineage.
An Aqua’kini healer must assess the child to determine the extent, expression, and inheritance depth of his bloodline. We desire to know which family he hails from.
This is not a request.
You will inform us of a time when the boy may be scanned.
—King Alcandor, Sovereign of the Aqua’kini Court
Harry’s brows rose.
“Well,” he said. “That was subtle.”
Hedwig hooted.
Harry picked up the next letter.
Maurice’s handwriting was calm. Beautiful. Controlled.
Which Harry now knew meant he had been furious.
King Alcandor,
Harrison Potter is currently under my protection and remains in a feral state. He is not capable of granting informed consent for magical scanning, nor is he capable of processing unfamiliar presences without distress.
When Harrison becomes lucid enough to understand and verbally consent to an examination, I will notify the Water Court. Until that time, no scans will be conducted.
Be aware that your Court is not alone in its interest. Many parties are awaiting the opportunity to meet him. All will wait.
Harrison’s recovery takes precedence over curiosity, lineage claims, and court authority.
You will be informed when he is ready.
—Maurice Elswood
Mentor and Guardian
Harry slowly sank into his chair.
“Oh,” he murmured.
The next several letters became progressively worse.
Or better.
Harry was not sure.
Alcandor’s royal insistence sharpened with every exchange. Maurice’s politeness became increasingly lethal. The two men traded formality like knives across a table.
Alcandor accused Maurice of treating Aqua’kini protocol as optional.
Maurice replied that guardianship meant safeguarding a child, not lending him out to satisfy sovereign impatience.
Alcandor suggested Maurice was concealing Harry’s condition.
Maurice suggested Alcandor learn patience, since it was a skill most rulers claimed to possess.
Harry pressed one hand over his mouth by the time he reached the letter where Alcandor signed himself:
—King Alcandor
King of the Aqua’kini Waters, Keeper of the Water Realm, Holder of the Old Gates
“Holder of the Old Gates?” Harry whispered.
He turned to the next letter.
Maurice’s reply was signed:
—Maurice Elswood
Royally Decreed Guardian and Mentor of Harrison James Potter
Harry made a strangled sound.
Hedwig puffed up, offended by his laughter.
The signatures only grew more dramatic.
—King Alcandor, Ruler of One Quarter of the Realm
Then, from Maurice:
—Maurice Elswood
Enraged Mentor
Harry laughed so hard he had to put the letter down.
By the time he reached the argument over whether Harry should attend a state dinner within two moons, his face hurt from smiling.
The letters were not funny because the subject had been light.
They were funny because Harry knew how serious it had been.
He could see it now from a distance, softened by years and safety. Alcandor, furious because the last Caelivar heir had been found and was being kept from the Aqua’kini Court. Maurice, equally furious because a traumatized feral child was not a political asset to be scanned, claimed, dressed, and displayed.
Harry read the final letter in the stack slowly.
King Alcandor,
How generous. A king willing to compromise so long as the compromise remains entirely under his direction.
Weekly instruction may occur if Harrison agrees, if my healer confirms he is stable that week, and if the instructor respects the rules of my house. Those rules include:
No coercion.
No “testing” him without consent.
No commentary implying he is defective because he does not perform royalty to your preference.
If those conditions are difficult, you may continue corresponding by letter. You seem to enjoy it.
—Maurice Elswood
Harry sat very still after that one.
The humor faded into something warmer.
Deeper.
Maurice had fought for him before Harry had been able to understand what fighting for him even meant.
Before Harry knew the Aqua’kini Court existed.
Before he knew the name Caelivar belonged to him.
Before he knew how many people would one day stand in rooms and call him prince.
Maurice had stood at the door and told a king no.
Harry carefully folded the letter and placed it back in the box.
Then he picked up Killigan’s note again and stared at the word Enjoy.
His eyes narrowed.
Killigan had absolutely sent these for entertainment.
But also as a reminder.
A reminder of how much time had passed. Of how far they had all come. Of how Alcandor and Maurice, who could now sit at the same table and calmly argue over Harry’s Hunt introduction, had once nearly gone to war by correspondence over whether Harry could be scanned.
Harry smiled despite himself.
“I am going to ask Maurice about these,” he told Hedwig.
Hedwig clicked her beak.
“Yes, after I make copies.”
Because some things deserved preservation.
Especially letters signed by an enraged mentor.
Harry closed the box and set it carefully on the shelf beside his family records.
Three days later, when Maurice walked into his room with an outfit bag over one arm and an expression of perfect calm, Harry should have remembered the letters.
He should have remembered that Maurice Elswood was perfectly capable of smiling politely while outmaneuvering royalty, court protocol, and common sense itself.
Instead, Harry looked up from the book he had been reading on his bed and said, “No.”