[Sansir.]
Mirabel suddenly appeared before Veronica as she was straightening the covers after the twins had tossed them about in their restless play.
She dropped from the sky onto the bed like a fallen angel, her body swaying slightly from exhaustion.
Her presence heavy with pain and the invisible strain of every battle she had endured.
Instinctively, I activated my Regalia, trying to siphon off some of her injuries, but I could barely muster three percent of the damage.
Mirabel's form was a mosaic of bruises, cuts, and blood, her skin marred as though she had been torn apart without mercy.
Every shallow breath she drew seemed to tremble with the memory of suffering.
I exhaled slowly and turned my attention to the children, their small faces pale with shock and worry.
I lifted them both into my arms, feeling the tension radiate from their tiny, quivering bodies.
"Veronica, could you—" I began, voice low.
She nodded, steady and composed despite the scene before her. "Yeah, I've got it. Don't worry."
I managed a faint, tight-lipped smile and left the room, stepping outside.
The council had just departed, their whispers and clipped orders still echoing through the halls.
Those bastards were eager to begin the royal tutoring sessions already.
I hadn't seen that irritating woman in a while, though I prayed Lancerial wouldn't be the one to oversee it.
Ever since she gave up fighting and embraced pacifism, all she seemed to do was antagonize both Veronica and me whenever she visited.
She occasionally helped with the twins, but she never stayed long enough for Mirabel to even encounter her.
I hadn't been outside long when a terrible force made itself known down the hall.
My chest tightened as a familiar, oppressive energy washed over me.
Instantly, I drew my sword and stepped forward, positioning myself between the source and the house, every muscle taut with anticipation.
The sight that greeted me, however, was far worse than anything I had feared.
Nicholas stood there, his body wracked with illness, coughing up blood even in sleep.
His form was fragile, ravaged, as if every ounce of vitality had been siphoned from him.
Cradling him was Nicole, who should have long been dead.
Yet she too looked broken, her frame frail and trembling, as if she had poured every scrap of her mana into sustaining him.
Her hair clung damply to her face, and streaks of tears and dirt marked her cheeks, evidence of a desperate struggle.
"I… I… I couldn't save him, plea—"
Her voice cracked, and she collapsed to the ground, dropping Nicholas gently but with trembling arms.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
I heard soft, pained whispers, calls to their mother, but they were choked with exhaustion, almost lost to the void of their struggle.
Then, for the first time, they both spoke with a clarity that struck me to the core.
"Daddy."
The words came in unison, fragile yet filled with an unbearable weight, echoing through the hall.
They walked past me, small figures burdened with sorrow and hope, their voices cutting through the chaos like fragile blades.
My chest tightened, and I felt the world shrink around their simple, desperate cry.
I looked back to see Veronica who opened the door and had wide eyes. "Sansir, what the hell is going on?"
I placed my sword back in my scabbard and sighed. "Though it may not look like it, it seems that this is our victory."
***
[Months later…]
After properly taking care of the three very wounded individuals, Veronica and I had to meet with some nobles.
The ones before us requested access to trade routes now that the war had officially ended.
Those greedy bastards wasted absolutely no time. They did not offer a single word of encouragement for their king's survival.
"So, Sir Sansir?" the woman who had looked particularly annoying asked softly.
I crossed my arms. This woman and her husband were the last of the nobles we needed to see.
"Fine. Just hurry and leave. I will send over an official document soon."
She nodded with a smile, then urged her rather large husband to do the same.
He complied after a few moments of hesitation. They soon left Veronica and me alone, and she slumped down with a long sigh.
"Damn it. I know Mirabel is really hurt, and Nicole isn't feeling well, but why us?" she said.
I stood and took her hand, pulling her along with me. "Kivana and Malachi still have not even returned to Novastia."
She sighed again. "I know, I know. So there is no one else."
I patted her head, which made her scowl slightly. "It's good that you realize it now."
It had officially been three years since the war began.
It was the end of the year, and Anstalionah had once again fallen into a terrible situation. Our most powerful general had been lost to us.
Fertical had risen in influence, and Giah had begun implementing sweeping policies over everything.
Moreover, the western draconic continent had sent envoys to every kingdom except ours.
The silence was blatant disrespect, though it was not as if we were in any shape to receive them.
It was hard to admit, but in the eyes of the world, Anstalionah had suffered the most.
Mirabel and Nicholas were alive, but both were in terrible states.
They had exhausted their military might defending the central continent while they were away fighting.
And every few days, Makilah destroyed a mountain or two.
Now that she was free, she had gone wild.
If Mirabel were at peak strength, I am sure she could rein Makilah in, but even our closest ally, Camelot, had cut most contact.
There was one thing the public did not know, something that could not be revealed.
I had carefully hidden the twins' presence from the world, and there was something else I kept secret as well.
Veronica and I made our way slowly to Nicholas's chambers.
When we reached the dreadful doors and opened them, there he was, sleeping. Sleeping endlessly.
Mirabel sat at his side while the twins, now a little older than when he first arrived, traded childish blows that were half play, half desperate distraction.
She did not stop them. She only watched his sleeping face as his life flickered in and out.
Veronica turned to me. "I'll go get some food."
I nodded and moved to the bedside as she left. Mirabel covered her mouth and coughed, then looked up at me.
"Don't," she said. "I know I will have to start acting as a queen again. I just want to stay with him a little longer."
She leaned down, wrapped her arms around his body, and pressed her head to his chest. I could only pity her.
"I know," I said softly, though I could not hide the worry in my voice.
"But it is getting bad. You know this. Drandafall has become a central power in a very short time."
She groaned. "Don't worry. Uthopia will soon see Midir."
I raised an eyebrow. "Can you feel him coming or something?"
She scoffed. "No. That bastard is probably already in the kingdom. He just needs an excuse to visit us."
"Hmm. I still do not understand it all, but I will take your word for it."
She did not seem pleased. "Do not patronize me, Sansir. I am not in the mood."
I did not mean to sound patronizing, but I did not want to anger her further.
Since her return, her hair had been a perpetual dark red, a sign that she was trapped in a constant state of anger.
That growth in power was terrifying, not only for my life but for the fate of this entire world.