The trees had started to bloom again.
Soft blossoms dusted the winding stone paths where Eugene and Julian walked in silence, the afternoon sun casting long shadows at their feet.
They took these walks often now—part ritual, part therapy. They never said it aloud, but both knew they needed the stillness.
Until—
A faint vocie
A voice had long since grown hoarse from calling, but still—
"…Mama?"
"…Mama…?"
A tiny gasp.
They both froze.
At the edge of the garden path, half-hidden behind a hedge, stood a small boy.
Nine, maybe ten. Skinny. Barefoot. Clothes worn through. Eyes wide.
Julian knelt, his expression softening instantly.
" Hey" he said gently .
The boy flinched at the sound, shrinking further into himself.
His eyes were wide and frightened—green glinting in the dim light.
"Its okay, I may look scary," jullian said with a playful smile, "but I promise I'm not. My name is Julian. What's yours?"
The boy hesitated, then whispered, "…i don't know"
Eugene crouched beside Julian. "Where are your parents ?"
The boy looked down. No answer.
Julian looked at Eugene.
"We can't leave him out here."
There was pain there—Eugene had seen this before. A child too small to carry the weight of abandonment, grief curling around him like fog.
Jullian.
Eugene softened his voice. " how about we give you one, temporarily?"
The boy's eyes lifted to his, wary but curious.
Julian was startled at first then gave a light smile, brushing a leaf from the boy's hair.
And said quietly, "How about noah?"
The boy repeated it in a whisper. "Luka…"
Julian tilted his head. "You like it?"
A pause. Then a hesitant nod.
Eugene held out his hand. "Do you trust us?"
The boy looked at the hand for a moment… then nodded while he reached out and took it.
Without waiting, Julian gently scooped the boy into his arms.
He didn't resist. He just clung tightly.
Strangely, he fit there—like he belonged.
Back at the Palace
N0ah sat by the hearth now, warm and fed.
Eugene approached Artizea, seated behind the high desk in the war council room, still doing paperwork even while nearly full-term with child.
"I need your permission," Eugene said gently. "To Let him stay. Just until we find his parents."
Artizea looked up, one hand absently resting over her swollen belly. "Of course. As long as he needs."
At that moment, Callisto and Seraphina burst in with Lizzie, giggling.
"Who's this?" Seraphina asked excitedly.
"Can we keep him?" Callisto added, already grabbing Thomas's hand.
"Let's get him dressed like a prince!" Lizzie beamed.
As they dragged Thomas off with infectious Pendragon chaos, Rhysand chuckled and approached Eugene.
"How are you?"
Eugene offered a faint smile. "I'm… fine."
A pause.
"Any word from Elaine?"
The room went quiet.
Artizea finally said, "She's still MIA. I've decided to give her time."
Eugene nodded, quietly grieving.
"And the babe?" he asked.
Artizea rested her hand on her belly. "Hopefully, I'll get this one out before Elaine decides to return."
Rhysand moved to help her sit. She resisted at first, ever the queen.
So he just lifted her by the waist, steady and firm, holding the pressure on her back so she could finish writing.
Eugene smiled and left to check on Naoh.
Btu he was long gone.
"where did he go? "
Noah stood stiff in the grand hall, his shoulders drawn tight beneath a tunic that didn't quite fit yet.
The weight of the palace pressed around him—all polished marble and towering windows, soaked in gold and light.
He'd never seen so much wealth. So much space.
He didn't know what to do with his hands. He didn't know how to breathe without trembling.
He only knew one thing:
He didn't belong here.
Until—
"There he is!"
A blur of energy and voices descended from the upper staircase.
Callisto, Seraphina, Elizabeth, already stomping in their boots like the floor owed her something—and all of them were smiling.
Callisto reached him first, breathless, his golden hair sticking to his brow.
He reached out and grabbed Noah's hand without warning.
"Let's go!"
Noah flinched. "W-Wait—your highness, I—I'm not—"
"You'reunder our care now " Calisto said with absolute certainty. "Its only right as hosts we show you around ."
Elizabeth darted around him, tugging on his sleeves. "That's right! Maybe we should dress him up first! Something dramatic—like a cape—"
"Don't be silly," Seraphina cut in, prim and unimpressed. "He looks just fine. The real test is if he can keep up."
"Father says a better wardrobe does wonders to one's confidence," Callisto said..
"That's because Father is Father," she replied, rolling her eyes.
"Challenge accepted?" Calisto said, grinning.
Noah blinked. "But… what if I mess something up?"
Calisto's eyes sparkled.
"Then blame it on us !."
"Who is this us you keep speaking of!"
And just like that—they ran.
Down the halls, slipping past the guards.
Through the back corridor Seraphina had mapped out using old castle blueprints ("for emergencies," she claimed).
They skidded past the kitchens, where Callisto expertly lifted a basket of honeyfruit tarts.
Elizabeth grabbed Noah's hand, already halfway out the back door.
"Come on! You haven't even met Hope yet!"
Outside, sunlight bathed the palace fields.
The children sprinted across the green, cutting through flowerbeds, laughing like freedom had taken form in their feet.
They reached the cottage, breathless, cheeks red.
And there she was.
Hope, the Pendragon chicken—grumpy, slightly judgmental, and immortal by sheer willpower alone.
"That's Hope," Calisto said proudly.
"Why is she glaring at me?" Noah asked, hiding behind Elizabeth.
"She does that to everyone," Liz said. "Except Mother. She fears Mother."
Hope squawked once, unimpressed.
Then they were running again—through the lower village, robes billowing, pastry crumbs flying, breathless with joy.
Guards spotted them.
"Your Highnesses—please, slow down—!"
Too late.
The children ducked through alleyways and side streets, disappearing into the beating heart of the kingdom.
For the first time, he wasn't wondering when someone would leave.
He was wondering if he could run faster—And this time?
He wanted to catch up.
Ronan watched her.
his heart full of emotions he hadn't allowed himself to name until now.
She was fierce, brilliant, and infuriating, but in moments like this, she was also vulnerable.
And that vulnerability was something she rarely shared with anyone, not even him.
He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
His fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of her cheek.
She stirred slightly at his touch, her brow furrowing as if she sensed his presence even in sleep.
Her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep..
Then the realization of where she was—and who she was with—dawned on her..
"Your grace."
Her voice was soft, still tinged with sleep, but there was a hint of amusement in it.
She pushed herself up on one elbow, the blanket slipping slightly to reveal her bare shoulder.
Ronan gaze flickered downward, but he quickly met her eyes again, his expression turning serious.
"You stayed."
the teasing glint in her eyes vanishing.
"Don't make a big deal out of it."
"But it does means something, Elaine. To me, at least."
Her lips parted as if to argue, but she stopped herself. Instead, she sighed, running a hand through her hair.
After a moment,
he leaned over and kissed her temple. Then sat up.
"I have something for you," he said softly.
Elaine blinked. "What is it?"
"Come with me."
She frowned. "Ronan, it's midnight—"
"Trust me."
With a little sigh, she sat up and slipped her robe over her shoulders.
Her feet touched the floor just as tiny blue lightsflickered around them—pixies, swirling like stars, tugging gently at her sleeves, guiding her.
She followed Rowan barefoot through the garden doors, out into the night.
The pixies fluttered ahead like lanterns, and as they reached the clearing near the lake, a taste stood waiting.
It looked like a memory made real.
Carved into soft white wood, shaped by ancient magic—a tiny cradle made from flower petals and vine, glowing faintly with old enchantments.
The pixies flurried around it protectively, weaving soft light into the air, their giggles hushed in reverence.
Elaine stood still, her breath catching.
"What… is this?"
Rowan stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, resting his chin atop her head.
"They made it for you. For your sacrifice. For what you carried in your heart."
She stepped forward slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the cradle.
Etched into the side, written in elegant Fae script, were the words:
"A father's love is stronger than any heart."
Elaine pressed her hand to her mouth, tears slipping past her fingers.
"Father…" she whispered, voice trembling,
"Im Sorry I couldn't protect you " Rowan said.
She turned and buried herself into his chest, her sobs muffled in the warmth of his embrace.
Rowan held her tighter, rubbing her back gently.
"I know there's a part of you that aches for what might have been. So I wanted you to have this. Not as a reminder of what was lost… but of how much love still lives here."
The pixies circled above, glowing brighter now, like tiny stars humming a lullaby only the fae could hear.
Elaine looked back at the cradle, tears still in her eyes—but her smile was real.
"I love you," she whispered.
"And I love you," Rowan murmured into her hair. "Always."
And under the moonlight, surrounded by the glow of a love remembered and never forgotten, they stood in silence—together.