*Heir to the Serpent Lord*

Chapter 12: The Weight of a Young Master

The sun had set, and the grand halls of Slytherin Castle were quiet once more, the echoes of Saber's introduction to the Death Eaters still lingering in the air. The night had been a pivotal moment for Saber—one that marked the beginning of his new life as the Young Master of Voldemort's followers. But while the outward display of loyalty had been overwhelming, the internal weight of his new role was beginning to settle heavily on his young shoulders.

Saber sat in his chambers, still dressed in the ceremonial robes that symbolized his dual heritage. The mirror in front of him reflected a boy who looked far more composed than he felt—a boy who was now expected to carry on two of the most powerful legacies in magical history. He traced his fingers over the pendant Sol had given him, the dragon's emerald eyes glinting in the candlelight, grounding him as he tried to process everything.

Seraph, Onyx, and Jade were coiled around him, their tiny bodies warm and comforting against his skin. They could sense his unease, their soft, rhythmic movements helping to calm his racing thoughts. They were not just pets; they were his companions, a constant reminder that he was never truly alone.

As he sat in the dim light, there was a gentle knock at the door. It opened slowly, revealing Voldemort, who had shed his formal robes and now wore simpler attire. His red eyes softened when he saw his son sitting quietly, clearly lost in thought.

"You've had a long day," Voldemort said, entering the room and closing the door behind him. He moved to sit beside Saber, his presence both powerful and reassuring.

Saber glanced up, his expression conflicted. "It feels... strange," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Everyone bowing to me, looking at me like I'm someone important."

Voldemort studied his son carefully, understanding the turmoil that lay behind Saber's words. "You are important," he said firmly, placing a hand on Saber's shoulder. "You may be young, but you are already stronger than you know. The respect they showed you tonight was not just because of your name. It was because they see your potential. They see the future in you."

Saber nodded, though his heart was still heavy. "I want to be what they see. But sometimes, I'm scared I won't be enough."

Voldemort's gaze softened, and he pulled Saber closer, wrapping an arm around his son. It was a rare, tender gesture, one that showed the depth of his care. "You are more than enough, Saber. You have endured more than most ever could, and you have come out stronger. You are my son, and that is all you need to be."

The weight of his father's words settled over Saber like a warm blanket. He leaned into Voldemort's embrace, finding comfort in the quiet strength that radiated from him. For all of Voldemort's power and ambition, there was a genuine love there—a love that Saber had never truly known until now.

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**Nightmares and Shadows**

Despite Voldemort's reassurances, the night was not kind to Saber. As he drifted into sleep, the dark memories that haunted him slipped into his dreams, twisting them into nightmares that left him gasping for breath. Chains. Darkness. Cold hands gripping his throat. The torturous sounds of his past filled his ears, drowning him in fear.

Saber bolted upright in his bed, his heart racing and his breaths shallow. His room was dark, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window. Seraph, Onyx, and Jade quickly uncoiled themselves, slithering up his arms and neck, their presence a soothing balm against his terror.

Voldemort was there within moments, having sensed his son's distress. He crossed the room swiftly, kneeling beside the bed as Saber tried to catch his breath.

"They're just dreams," Voldemort said gently, his voice steady. "They can't hurt you."

Saber clutched at his chest, the panic slowly ebbing away as his father's presence grounded him. "They feel so real," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Like I'm still there, with them."