But what can we say? The universe, vast and unruly, paid no mind to love-struck students and their whispered confessions beneath shared blankets.
Because while two young souls were locked in the throes of blooming affection—fingers tangled, hearts echoing in sync—somewhere in another galaxy, a very different kind of storm was brewing.
King Garick Zulgara was preparing for war.
...Or, more accurately, for retrieval.
Of his daughter.
While a newly minted couple basked in the honeymoon haze of cuddles and stolen kisses, he was busy scowling at reports, his temporary throne room vibrating with the kind of restrained fury only a doting father could muster.
"Your Majesty," a nervous aide began, holding a trembling datapad, "we've renovated the Princess's chambers. Even the bath has been retrofitted to accommodate human proportions. We also added extra pillows—softer ones."
Garick's massive leg bounced once. Then again. A foreboding rhythm.
"And?" he rumbled, voice low and clipped.
