Solace's P.O.V
The balcony of the Great Keep always had the best view of the kingdom, but tonight, the view felt different. A year had passed since the coronation, and the scars on the land had been replaced by fields of swaying grain and the bustling lights of a city that never seemed to sleep. The air was warm, carrying the scent of jasmine from the gardens below—the same gardens where Alaric and I had once stood as strangers trying to navigate the ruins of our lives.
I heard the heavy, familiar rhythm of boots behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"The celebrations are still going strong in the lower city," Alaric said, his voice a low rumble as he stepped up beside me. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into the heat of his side. "I think they've been cheering for three hours straight."
"They have a lot to be happy about," I murmured, leaning my head against his shoulder. My hand drifted instinctively to the small, bundled weight cradled against my chest.
Wrapped in a blanket of Thera silk and Aevum wool, our daughter slept, oblivious to the fact that she was the living bridge between two once-warring empires. She had Alaric's calm brow and, when she opened them, my eyes—sharp and full of the golden light of the Thera bloodline. We had named her Elara, a name that meant light in the old tongue.
"She's quiet tonight," Alaric whispered, reaching out a finger to gently brush the infant's cheek. "A soldier's sleep."
"Let's hope she never has to be a soldier," I replied, looking out at the peaceful horizon. "We fought those wars so she wouldn't have to."
Alaric's P.O.V
I looked down at Elara, and then at Solace, and for a moment, I felt a surge of protectiveness so strong it made my chest ache. I remembered my father's face as he turned to ash—the face of a man who had seen his children only as tools or legacies. Looking at my daughter, I knew I would never be that man.
"She carries both thrones now," I said softly. "The strength of Aevum and the magic of Thera. Aevera is hers to inherit, but more than that, she inherits a world where the gates stay open."
Solace smiled, a real, radiant smile that reached her eyes. She looked so different from the guarded mercenary I had met on that dusty road. She was a Queen, yes, but she was also whole.
"Do you think they'll remember us?" Solace asked, her gaze drifting back to the stars. "The Prince and the Outcast who broke the world to fix it?"
I turned her toward me, my hand cupping her face. The ring I had given her a year ago glinted under the moonlight. "I think they'll tell stories of the Queen who brought the sun back and the King who chose her over a crown of shadows. But it doesn't matter if they remember our names, Solace. As long as they remember how it feels to be free."
I leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before kissing the top of Elara's head. The trumpets sounded again from the city walls—a triumphant, golden sound that echoed across the valley.
We stood there for a long time, the three of us, watching the dawn of a new era. The forgotten thrones were no longer forgotten; they were the foundation of something far greater. We had found what was missing. We had found our home. And as the sun began to peek over the mountains, painting the world in shades of gold and violet, I knew that for the first time in history, the Kingdom of Thera was truly at peace.