Beneath the golden hush of Alzaras's royal gardens, the moonlight spilled its silver thread through ancient sakura trees, their blossoms trembling like fallen stars caught against the night.
Fireflies drifted lazily above lotus ponds that shimmered with liquid light, carrying whispers of stories long forgotten. From within the stillness rose the laughter of children — soft, unguarded, timeless — like a song that even the centuries could not silence.
Inside the palace, two sisters sat together, framed by the glow of a dying fire. A thick woollen rug embraced them against the night's chill, its warmth grounding them even as shadows danced across the stone walls.
Nestled at their sides, their children huddled in oversized robes, wide-eyed and stubbornly resisting sleep. Tonight was not for dreams — it was for stories.
"Mama… what was your life like… before all this?" one child whispered, voice fragile with curiosity.
Isebella's lips curved into a smile touched with memory. The firelight caught in her sharp, thoughtful eyes, where nostalgia flickered like embers refusing to fade. Beside her, Estella bumped her sister's shoulder, mischief sparking in her grin.
"Do you want the royal version," she teased, "or the real one?"
"The real one!" the children chorused, laughter bursting through the room like bells.
The sisters exchanged a glance — quick, knowing, heavy with the weight of all they'd carried together. Then Isebella began, her voice as soft as the silk of night.
"There was a time," she said, "when we weren't queens or warriors. We were just two lost girls, wandering through a world that didn't quite belong to us. Strangers to India, strangers to Earth… strangers even to ourselves. Until fate brought us to them."
Estella leaned closer, her grin widening. "Two boys who were anything but princely. One was so serious he could make joy look like a chore, while the other had the emotional depth of a ripe guava."
"Hey, I heard that," a voice interrupted — warm, teasing.
The children's heads whipped toward the doorway. There stood King Aaron, his beard streaked silver with time, though his gaze remained as steady and searching as ever. Beside him leaned King Ishaan, dressed in casual grace, a sketchpad tucked under his arm, his familiar smirk softening into something more tender.
"You're telling that version again, aren't you?" Aaron asked, one brow arched.
"Is there another?" Isebella countered, her voice carrying the same fire that had once defied kingdoms.
Laughter rippled through the chamber, bright and full, spilling into the night like wine. For a fleeting moment, time folded back upon itself. The years, the crowns, the battles — all of it blurred until only the memory of who they had once been remained: four young souls stumbling through chaos, bound by choices and chances that changed everything.
They remembered it all — the betrayals and reconciliations, the awkward beginnings, midnight trains and starlit roads, festivals that glittered with joy, and the battles that tested their bond. Not a perfect story, but a human one. A story stitched together with persistence, laughter, and the kind of love that endures storms.
Estella's voice softened as she turned back to the children, who leaned closer as if afraid to miss a single word.
"This story is not about crowns or kingdoms," she said. "It is about friendship stronger than fear, love that survives the fire, and the sacrifices we make for those who matter. It is the beautifully messy, sometimes heartbreaking journey of learning how to trust."
Aaron stepped forward, lowering his voice as though weaving a spell."And how, sometimes… someone from a different world can show you what it means to finally find home."
The fire cracked, its sparks scattering upward like memories too bright to fade. Beyond the palace walls, a single sakura petal drifted gently to earth — a silent witness to all they had been and all they had become.
Thus began their story. Not of rulers, not of perfection, but of four fractured souls who, through fate's unkind dance, found one another — and in doing so, built a legacy not of crowns, but of love eternal.