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1.) The Nanny Affair
2.) The Good Captain
3.) The Royal Romance
4.) Second Chance Romance
5.) Bloodbound
6.) Beloved
7.) Dark Pleasure
8.) Love Everlasting
9.) Revenge
10.) Forevermore.
11.) Eternity.
Non Choices Related Fics:
Unextinguished Flame <-collab with @prettyvintageafternoon! We onto something! 😁
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I mean...its something about him friend 🫣, can't put my finger on it 🤔...it's like when I don't see his scalp, I'm good & I can see why he got 7 kids 😂🤷🏾♀️
This Is Part 6 Of Chapter 13 Of Eternity. This Is Hinge.
Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations
Thanksgiving morning did not begin quietly.
It began with movement.
With warmth already rising through the house before the sun had fully claimed the sky. With the low hum of preparation just beginning in the kitchen, not yet at full force, but building toward it. With children already awake—because of course they were—moving through the house with the kind of energy that made stillness impossible.
Eleanor stood near the window in the living room, a cup of coffee in her hand, watching the street just beyond the glass.
Cold.
Crisp.
Alive.
Boston carried a different kind of air than Cordonia. Sharper. More grounded. It didn’t ask you to slow down—it simply expected you to keep up.
And today—
She was ready to.
Behind her, the house stirred.
Shanelle moved between rooms with practiced ease, checking on the kitchen, checking on the children, checking on everything without making it look like she was managing anything at all.
Khari had already claimed a seat near the front, trying—and failing—to act like she wasn’t waiting.
Kylo and Zyon had not even attempted composure.
“They comin’?” Kylo asked for the fifth time.
“They’re coming,” Marquise replied, not looking up from where he stood near the fireplace.
“When?”
“When they get here.”
“That’s not helpful.”
Zyon nodded.
“Not helpful.”
Marquise smirked.
“You’ll survive.”
Ellie sat in her playpen nearby, chewing thoughtfully on a toy and contributing nothing to the impatience except the occasional—
“Ba!”
Eleanor smiled faintly into her cup.
And then—
A car pulled up.
Khari was on her feet instantly.
“They’re here.”
Kylo and Zyon didn’t wait.
“THEY HERE!”
The front door burst open before anyone could stop them.
Cold air rushed in.
And then—
“WE HERE!”
Marquise’s old college friend Tommy Mason stepped in like the house had been waiting for him.
And in a way—
It had.
Tommy entered first, broad-shouldered, easy grin already in place, his presence filling the space without effort.
Behind him—
His wife Tonya, warm and steady, already laughing as she stepped inside.
Their oldest son TJ, trying to play it cool and failing the moment he saw the other kids. Their daughter Katie, observant, bright-eyed, taking everything in. And their youngest son Danny didn’t even make it fully through the doorway before Kylo and Zyon reached him.
“COME ON!”
“We got stuff!”
“You gotta see!”
He dropped his bag where he stood and ran.
Just like that.
They were gone.
Khari shook her head like she expected nothing less… then grabbed Katie’s hand.
“Come on,” she said. “They’re gonna mess something up if we don’t watch them.”
Katie didn’t argue.
Tonya laughed.
“Well. That was quick.”
Tommy stepped further inside just as Marquise crossed the room.
They didn’t hesitate.
A firm clasp of hands—
Then a pull into a hug.
“Look at you,” Tommy said. “Still tall for no reason.”
“Don’t start,” Marquise replied.
“I’m serious. You could’ve stopped at six feet. Any height taller than that is just unnecessary.”
From behind them—
Damien’s voice.
“I said the same thing.”
Tommy pointed immediately.
“See? I got witnesses.”
Marquise shook his head, smiling.
“Get in here.”
Tye two shared an embrace.
“It’s good to see you brother.”
“You too man. It’s been way too damn long.”
⸻
Dave, Tonya’s dad, stepped in next, carrying himself with the easy familiarity of someone who had long since earned his place in every room he entered.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Marquise returned, pulling him into a quick embrace.
Beth followed, her eyes already scanning the house like she was mentally preparing for what was about to happen in the kitchen.
“This is beautiful,” she said.
“Thank you,” Shanelle replied, stepping forward to hug her.
Then—
Bruce.
Solid. Steady. The kind of presence that didn’t need to be loud to be felt.
“Good to see you,” he said to Marquise.
“You too.”
And finally—
Sandy.
Already smiling.
Already ready.
“Oh, I like this house,” she said immediately. “This feels like a cooking house.”
Shanelle laughed.
“You have no idea.”
Tommy turned then, his expression shifting just slightly when he saw Eleanor fully.
Respect.
Warmth.
Gratitude.
All of it, easy and unforced.
“So this is the famous Eleanor, that the royal jackass never shut up about?” he said.
Eleanor laughed and Marquise rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“Hello. You must be Tommy.”
“Guilty as charged. It's good to finally meet you, ma'am.”
They embraced.
No titles.
No distance.
Just acknowledgment.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
She placed a hand on his arm.
“You built something worth supporting,” she replied.
He smiled.
“That’s a nice way of saying your son funds everything.”
Children running through the halls like they had been waiting their whole lives for this exact moment.
Ellie watched it all from her playpen like a tiny overseer of chaos.
“Da!”
Danny crouched in front of her.
“She talks?”
“Only important things,” Khari said.
“Buh!”
“See?” Zyon added.
Tommy stood in the middle of it for a moment.
Just watching.
Taking it in.
Then exhaled slowly.
“Man…”
Marquise glanced at him.
“What?”
Tommy shook his head.
“Nothing.”
A beat.
Then—
“…Just this.”
Marquise didn’t need him to explain.
He understood.
And then—
The shift.
Beth and Sandy looked at each other.
Then toward the kitchen.
Then back at Eleanor and Shantel.
It was silent.
Unspoken.
But clear.
“Alright,” Sandy said, clapping her hands once. “Let’s get to work.”
Shantel was already moving.
“Turkey’s mine.”
“Good,” Beth said. “I’ll take sides.”
“I’m on backup,” Sandy added.
Eleanor stepped forward, calm and composed.
“I’ll handle the ham.”
Shantel glanced at her.
“You sure?”
Eleanor met her gaze.
“I am.”
A beat.
Then Shantel nodded.
“Alright then.”
And just like that—
The kitchen was claimed. It moved fast. Not chaotic. Not disorganized.
Just—
Efficient.
Shantel seasoning the turkey like she had something to prove.
Beth chopping, measuring, organizing with precision.
Sandy moving between stations, keeping everything flowing.
Eleanor—
Steady.
Measured.
Brushing a mustard glaze over the ham with practiced care, the scent already beginning to build into something rich and unmistakable.
From the doorway, Shanelle leaned in.
“Do you ladies need help with anything?”
Four voices answered at once—
“No.”
“Out.”
“You’ll slow us down.”
“Go enjoy your guests.”
Shanelle raised her hands.
“Understood.”
She backed out, smiling.
⸻
Later in the backyard the fire pit was lit.
Cold air held at bay by flame and conversation.
Marquise.
Tommy.
Damien.
Bruce.
Dave.
Boston’s Finest in hand.
Tommy took a sip.
“Still good.”
“Always is,” Marquise said.
Dave leaned back.
“So. Let’s talk about this year’s Toy drive.”
Tommy nodded.
“Bigger this year.”
“Good.”
“More kids,” Tommy added. “More need.”
Marquise didn’t hesitate.
“Then we expand.”
Tommy looked at him.
“I knew you were gonna say that.”
“We always do.”
Bruce smiled.
“You two never do anything small.”
“Nope,” Tommy said. “Not anymore.”
Damien added quietly—
“And the game?”
Marquise smirked.
“Box is open. Same as always.”
Tommy grinned.
“Those kids still think I’m lying when I tell them.”
“Let them,” Marquise said. “Makes it better when they walk in.”
Dave raised his bottle.
“Practice Saturday. Game Monday.”
Tommy clinked his bottle against his.
“Then we make it a weekend.”
Back inside—
The house was full.
Not just with people.
With meaning.
Eleanor stood just inside the kitchen doorway for a moment, watching.
Listening.
Taking it all in.
Not from the outside.
Not from a distance.
From within it.
For the first time—
No disguise.
No absence.
No silence.
Just presence.
Family.
Home.
And as the scent of Thanksgiving began to fill every corner of the house, Eleanor allowed herself one quiet, steady realization:
She wasn’t visiting this life anymore.
She was living it.
By the time everything was ready—
The house had quieted.
Not completely.
But enough for everyone to gather.
The dining room held warmth in every corner, the long table set fully—sixteen places, each one filled or about to be. Plates, glasses, serving dishes arranged with care, the spread itself stretching from one end to the other like a statement of intention.
This wasn’t just a meal.
It was effort.
It was memory.
It was love made visible.
The scent alone told the story.
Turkey, golden and rich.
Ham glazed to perfection.
Candied yams.
Greens.
Mac and cheese that had already drawn attention before anyone sat down.
Sides layered between—Beth and Sandy’s careful work rounding out the table with dishes that felt both familiar and essential.
And at the far end—
Desserts waiting their turn.
Sweet potato pie.
Apple pie.
Blueberry crumble.
Pecan pie.
A quiet promise for later.
Chairs shifted.
Voices lowered.
Children guided—some willingly, some not—into their seats.
Ellie settled into her high chair, already tapping her hands against the tray like she understood she was part of something important.
“Ba!”
“Yes,” Shanelle murmured, adjusting her bib. “You’re right. It smells good.”
Kylo and Zyon sat side by side, whispering about something that absolutely could have waited but, to them, could not.
Khari sat straighter, trying to maintain composure and occasionally reminding her brothers to do the same.
Tommy and Tonya settled in with their children.
Damien and Shantel across from them.
Dave, Beth, Bruce, and Sandy filling in the rest.
Eleanor took her seat with quiet grace, her eyes moving across the table, taking in every face, every place, every detail.
And at the head—
Marquise.
He didn’t sit immediately.
Instead, he rested his hands lightly against the back of his chair, looking down the length of the table.
At all of them.
Family.
Friends.
Chosen.
Earned.
Built.
For a moment—
He didn’t speak.
He let it settle.
Then—
“Thank you.”
Simple.
Clear.
Enough to bring every conversation to a stop.
“Thank you all for being here.”
His gaze moved slowly, deliberately, acknowledging each group, each connection.
“To those who traveled from New York… from Worcester… from across oceans…” his eyes flicked briefly toward Eleanor, “and from just down the hall—”
A few soft laughs.
“—thank you for making the time to be here together.”
He shifted slightly, resting one hand against the table.
“And I would be remiss,” he continued, “if I didn’t acknowledge the women who made this entire table possible.”
He glanced toward the kitchen side instinctively.
“Shantel, my mother Eleanor, Beth, Sandy—this is an impressive spread.”
Shantel smiled knowingly.
“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
“I don’t need to,” he replied. “I can already tell.”
A few chuckles moved through the table.
Marquise let them settle before continuing.
“Thanksgiving,” he said, “is not a holiday I grew up with.”
That drew a few curious looks.
“It’s American,” he continued. “Rooted in tradition here. But over the years…it’s become one of my favorites.”
He paused.
Then—
“My first Thanksgiving…” a faint smile touched his mouth, “…was during my freshman year at Harvard.”
Tommy leaned back slightly, already grinning.
“I didn’t go home,” Marquise continued. “Didn’t have plans. Didn’t know what to expect.”
He glanced toward Tommy, then to Beth and Bruce.
“And then Tommy invited me to his parents' house.”
Tommy lifted his hands slightly.
“Didn’t know who you were,” he said.
“Not at all,” Marquise agreed.
“Still don’t,” Bruce added dryly.
Laughter broke across the table.
Marquise smiled, shaking his head slightly.
“I spent that Thanksgiving with Tommy…with Beth…with Bruce…”
He let the memory sit for just a moment.
“I was in a home that didn’t know me as a king…or a Prince…or anything beyond a student in a foreign country who needed somewhere to be.”
The room quieted.
Not heavy.
Just…attentive.
“And that,” he said, “is where I learned what this holiday truly is.”
He gestured lightly to the table.
“It’s not about perfection.”
“It’s not about presentation.”
“It’s about presence.”
A beat.
“It’s about being somewhere you are wanted.”
Another.
“And being surrounded by people who make space for you…whether you’ve known them your entire life…or just long enough to need them.”
Tommy looked down briefly, then back up, his expression softer now.
Marquise continued.
“And,” he added, a hint of humor returning, “it is also the reason I am now a die-hard Patriots fan.”
Groans and laughter mixed together.
Bruce leaned forward slightly.
“Knew I raised you right.”
“You did,” Marquise said without hesitation.
More laughter.
Then—
He shifted again.
His tone softening.
“This year…” he said, “is special.”
His eyes moved to Eleanor.
“To my mother—this is your first Thanksgiving.”
Eleanor held his gaze, something quiet and full passing between them.
“And to my youngest daughter…”
Ellie chose that exact moment to slap her tray.
“DADA!”
The table laughed.
Marquise’s expression softened completely.
“…who clearly agrees.”
He looked back out at everyone.
“I am grateful—deeply—that both of you are here.”
A pause.
Then—
“That you are not watching from a distance.”
“That you are not missing from this table.”
“That you are… home.”
Eleanor lowered her gaze briefly, her hands folding together in her lap as she took that in.
No words.
Just feeling.
Marquise inhaled once, steadying the moment.
Then—
“Before we eat,” he said, “let’s take a moment.”
The room settled.
Chairs stilled.
Voices quieted completely.
Heads bowed—some instinctively, some after a glance around, but all respectfully.
Marquise bowed his head.
“Lord, we thank You for this day,” he began.
“For the food before us, the hands that prepared it, and the people gathered around this table.”
“For the journeys that brought us here.”
“For the bonds that hold us together.”
“For the blessings we see…”
“And the ones we often forget to acknowledge.”
A breath.
“Let this home remain full.”
“Let this table never be empty.”
“And let us never take for granted the gift of being together.”
“Amen.”
“Amen,” came the quiet chorus.
And just like that—
The moment shifted.
Chairs moved.
Dishes passed.
Voices rose again.
“Pass the mac—”
“No, the greens first—”
“I want the yams—”
“You always want the yams—”
“Because they’re good!”
Ellie clapped wildly as if she had personally initiated the entire meal.
And the table—
Full, loud, imperfect, alive—
Did exactly what it was meant to do.
They ate.
The house had finally gone quiet.
Not empty—never that—but settled. The kind of quiet that only comes after a long day well spent. The faint hum of the heating system, the distant creak of wood adjusting to the cold, the last echoes of laughter still lingering somewhere in the walls.
Down the hall, the children slept.
Kylo and Zyon in their room, likely tangled in blankets after a full day of running, talking, eating, and more talking. Khari finally surrendered to sleep with a book somewhere near her pillow. Ellie, tucked in and peaceful, having declared her own version of Thanksgiving with enthusiastic “Ba” and “Da” contributions.
And in the room just beside the twins—
Eleanor.
She sat near the window, robe wrapped loosely around her, a soft lamp casting warm light across the room. Boston at night stretched quietly beyond the glass, the city still moving, but at a distance now.
For once—
She wasn’t needed.
Not immediately.
Not urgently.
Just… present.
A soft knock came at the door.
She didn’t turn right away.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Marquise stepped inside, already halfway out of his jacket like he’d come in with no intention of staying formal for long.
“There you are,” he said.
“Here I am.”
He closed the door behind him and leaned lightly against it for a moment, looking at her.
Taking her in.
Checking—not as a king.
As a son.
“Did you enjoy your first Thanksgiving?” he asked.
Eleanor smiled.
“I had a blast.”
That answer came easy.
Immediate.
“I loved it,” she continued. “Being included in something that’s entirely about family…”
She shook her head slightly, still smiling.
“It was… refreshing.”
He nodded, crossing the room and sitting in the chair across from her.
“It gets a little loud.”
“A little?” she repeated.
He smirked.
“Alright. Very.”
She laughed softly.
“And then there was the football.”
He exhaled a quiet laugh.
“Ah. Yes.”
She gave him a look.
“All you and Tommy did was yell at the television.”
“That is part of the experience.”
“You shouted at a man who could not hear you.”
“He made a bad call.”
“You made several bad calls and no one shouted at you.”
“That’s because I’m not on the field.”
She shook her head, amused.
“It was entertaining,” she admitted. “In its own way.”
“I’ll take that.”
A small pause settled between them.
“I liked them,” she said.
He tilted his head slightly.
“Tommy and his family. Dave, Beth… Bruce, Sandy…”
Her expression softened.
“Your Boston family. They're really good people.”
He leaned back slightly in his chair.
“They are.”
“I hope I get to see them again.”
“You will,” he said without hesitation.
“They don’t go anywhere.”
She nodded, satisfied with that.
Another quiet moment passed.
Then—
Her tone shifted.
Subtly.
Thoughtfully.
“We never had dinners like this,” she said.
It wasn’t an accusation. Not regret. Just…truth.
Marquise didn’t look away.
“No,” he said. “We didn't.”
A beat.
“Your former husband was always too busy being a king,” he added. “To care about things like this.”
No bitterness in it.
Not anymore.
Just clarity.
Eleanor’s gaze lowered slightly.
“I know.”
She did.
Better than anyone.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms against his knees.
“And I understand it,” he continued. “Now.”
She looked back up at him.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once.
“Because the weight of it doesn’t leave much room for anything else.”
A pause.
Then—
“But that doesn’t mean it was right.”
The words sat between them.
Honest.
Uncomplicated.
Eleanor exhaled slowly.
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t.”
Silence followed.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… full.
Then Marquise leaned back again, his expression softening.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
She smiled faintly.
“I did.”
He held her gaze for a moment.
Then—
“The best part,” he said quietly, “was sharing it with you.”
Then Marquise pushed himself up from the chair with a small exhale.
“Well,” he said, brushing his hands together lightly, “I’m going to go get another slice of that sweet potato pie before it mysteriously disappears.”
Eleanor raised a brow.
“You mean before you eat all of it.”
“That is a possibility.”
“Bring me a slice.”
He paused at the door.
“Of course.”
She added, almost as an afterthought—
“And don’t cut it small.”
He smirked.
“I wouldn’t dare.”
He opened the door, then stopped briefly, glancing back at her.
“You know,” he said, “if Shantel ever gives me that recipe…”
Eleanor already knew where this was going.
“…world peace,” he continued. “Solved.”
She smiled.
“And world hunger.”
“Exactly.”
He shook his head.
“It’s dangerous.”
“It’s delicious,” she corrected.
“Same thing.”
He stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him.
And for a moment—
Eleanor sat there alone again.
But not the way she used to be.
Not distant.
Not removed.
Just…
At peace.
In a home filled with people who knew her.
Who loved her.
Who expected her to be there tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.
And down the hall—
A son went in search of pie.
As he should.
The Saturday air in Foxborough carried that late-November bite.
Not unbearable.
But sharp enough to wake you up.
Breath visible. Hands tucked into sleeves. The kind of cold that made movement feel necessary—and excitement feel even sharper.
The gates opened early.
And today—
They weren’t opening for the usual crowd.
They were opening for something else.
A line of kids stood just outside, bundled in coats and hats, energy buzzing through them like electricity barely contained.
Tommy stood at the front, hands on his hips, scanning the group like he was trying—and failing—to keep them calm.
“Alright,” he called, “everybody stay together—”
“WE ARE!”
“We’re not even inside yet!”
“We will be!”
Marquise stepped up beside him, glancing down the line.
“How many this year?”
Tommy exhaled, a small smile pulling at his mouth.
“Forty-two.”
Marquise nodded.
“Good.”
Tommy glanced at him.
“You keep saying that like it’s not a lot.”
“It’s not enough,” Marquise replied.
Tommy didn’t argue.
He never did when it came to that.
Behind them—
The rest of the crew.
Shanelle, bundled but composed, Ellie tucked securely against her chest in a carrier, her tiny hat slightly crooked.
Khari, trying to act like she wasn’t excited.
Kylo—
Kylo had already spotted the field through the opening gates.
“DADDY!”
“I see it.”
“I SEE IT!”
Zyon clutched Toby in one hand, eyes wide.
“That’s big.”
“Yes,” Marquise said. “It is.”
Danny, TJ, Katie—already locked in with the other kids, energy building.
Damien, Dave, Bruce—standing just behind, hands in pockets, watching it all with quiet approval.
Shantel, Beth, Sandy—talking amongst themselves, but their eyes never straying too far from the children.
The gates opened.
And just like that—
They were in.
The field stretched wide and green beneath a pale sky, the stadium seats rising around them like something out of a dream.
For the kids—
It was a dream.
“WE ON THE FIELD?!”
“Yes,” Tommy said, laughing. “You’re on the field.”
Kylo spun in a full circle.
“I’M ON THE FIELD!”
Zyon crouched immediately, touching the turf like he needed to confirm it was real.
“It’s soft.”
Khari shook her head.
“Of course it’s soft.”
Players were already out, moving through drills, but as the group entered, attention shifted.
Because this—
This wasn’t just another practice.
This was something arranged.
Something intentional.
A coach jogged over first.
“You must be Tommy’s group.”
“That’s us,” Tommy said.
“And His Majesty.”
Marquise waved it off lightly.
“Today I’m just here for this.”
The coach nodded, understanding.
“Well,” he said, turning to the kids, “you all ready?”
“YES!”
That settled it.
It unfolded like magic.
Not staged.
Not forced.
Just… real.
Players broke from drills, coming over, kneeling to meet kids at eye level, shaking hands, signing anything put in front of them—shirts, hats, footballs, even one very determined kid’s shoe.
Kylo stood frozen for half a second as a player crouched in front of him.
“You play?” the player asked.
Kylo nodded.
“Yes.”
“What position?”
Kylo thought about it.
“…All of them.”
The player laughed.
“That’s a good answer.”
Zyon handed over Toby to be signed.
“For him,” he said seriously.
“Of course,” the player replied, signing the plush carefully.
Khari asked questions.
Real ones.
About training.
About plays.
About how things worked.
The player answering her blinked once, then smiled.
“You’re gonna be trouble,” he said.
“I know,” she replied.
Tommy moved through it all, watching, guiding, making sure every kid had their moment.
Every kid.
No one missed.
No one overlooked.
Marquise stood back for a moment, just watching.
Taking it in.
Then Tommy stepped beside him.
“You see this?” he said quietly.
“I do.”
Tommy nodded toward the kids.
“They’ll remember this.”
“I know.”
“They carry it.”
“I know.”
Tommy looked at him.
“This changes things for them.”
Marquise didn’t look away from the field.
“That’s the point.”
By the end of it, every kid had something.
Signed gear.
Photos.
Stories they would tell over and over again.
Kylo held a football like it had been personally handed down from the heavens.
“I’m never letting this go.”
“You’re going to sleep with it,” Khari said.
“Yes.”
Zyon checked Toby carefully.
“He’s official now.”
Danny compared signatures with TJ.
Katie smiled quietly, holding her photo close.
Tommy looked at Marquise again.
“You don’t have to do all this.”
Marquise finally turned.
“Yes,” he said. “I do.”
Tommy didn’t push.
Because he understood.
Gillette Stadium was different at night.
Louder.
Brighter.
Alive in a way that felt almost electric.
The private suite overlooked it all—perfect view, warmth inside, the roar of the crowd filtering in just enough to feel it without being swallowed by it.
The kids pressed against the glass.
“LOOK!”
“THEY RUNNING!”
“THEY GONNA WIN!”
Marquise stood just behind them, arms crossed, completely locked in.
Shanelle leaned beside him.
“You’re not even pretending to be calm.”
“No.”
“You’re pacing.”
“I am.”
“They’re going to win.”
“They better.”
Tommy laughed from the side.
“He’s been like this all day.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
It was a good game.
Not easy.
Not clean.
But good.
Back and forth.
Momentum shifting.
The crowd rising and falling like a living thing.
Kylo shouted at the glass.
“GO!”
Zyon echoed him.
“GO!”
Khari clapped, trying to maintain dignity and failing.
Ellie.
Ellie clapped and squealed at everything.
Every play.
Every cheer.
Every moment.
By the fourth quarter—
It was close. Too close.
Marquise stood, hands on his head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Tommy leaned back.
“You love this.”
“I hate this.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
Final minutes.
Drive down the field.
Tension thick enough to feel.
Then—
Touchdown.
The stadium exploded.
The suite followed.
“YES!”
“WE WON!”
“WE WON!”
Kylo jumped.
Zyon jumped.
Danny nearly tackled TJ.
Khari actually yelled.
Ellie clapped like she had personally orchestrated the entire game.
Marquise—
Marquise just stood there for a second.
Then exhaled.
“Yes.”
Tommy clapped him on the shoulder.
“11-2.”
“11-2.”
“And?”
Marquise turned slowly.
“And,” he said, “I win my fantasy matchup this week.”
Tommy stared.
“You are unbelievable.”
“I told you it mattered.”
“You care more about that than the actual game.”
“That is not true.”
“It is absolutely true.”
Shanelle shook her head, laughing.
“You’re both ridiculous.”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
Later—
The stadium quieted.
The night settled.
The lights dimmed just enough.
The kids were tired now. Happy. Full. Still talking. Still replaying moments that would live with them far longer than the game itself.
Marquise stood at the edge of the suite, looking out over the field one last time.
Shanelle stepped beside him.
“That was a good day.”
“It was.”
He glanced back at the kids.
At Tommy.
At their families.
At everything that had been built.
“Worth it,” she added.
He nodded.
“Always.”
Because this—
This was the point.
Not just power.
Not just legacy.
But moments like this.
Shared.
Earned.
Given freely.
And as they turned to leave—
The chapter didn’t end with silence.
It ended with something stronger.
As November came to a close, Cordonia had taken a step into the future. And somewhere unseen…a hand reached toward the door, and the hinge began to move. No one heard it. At least not yet.
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Marquise looked back at the screen one last time.
At the young Grand Duke.
At the people who believed in him.
At the island that had survived long enough to stand again.
Then—
“No,” he said quietly.
“They’re not wrong.”
Ellie laughed.
And outside, the wind carried the first real sign of winter across the palace grounds.
The world was changing.
Whether it was ready to…or not.
The palace was quiet in the way only an old palace could be quiet.
Not empty. Never empty. There were always guards at their posts, always a member of staff somewhere in the distance, always the faint hum of life behind thick stone walls that had stood longer than most nations. But late at night, when the children were supposed to be asleep and the last official conversation had long since ended, the Royal Palace of Cordonia seemed to breathe differently. Softer. Slower.
Marquise had been on his way back from his study when he heard it.
Not a voice.
Not at first.
Just the small, uneven patter of little feet against polished floor.
He stopped in the middle of the corridor, turned his head, and listened.
There it was again.
A soft shuffle. Then another.
He stepped forward quietly, rounding the corner just enough to see the mouth of the hallway that led toward the family wing.
Kylo stood there in blue pajamas with tiny stars on them, one hand rubbing at his eye, the other holding Pyro tight against his chest. His hair was flattened on one side from sleep, his face still warm with that half-awake confusion children wore when they woke up expecting the world to still be exactly as they left it.
Marquise’s expression softened immediately.
“Well,” he said quietly, “what are you doing awake?”
Kylo looked up, relief crossing his face at the sight of his father.
“Daddy.”
Marquise crossed the distance between them and crouched, one knee touching the floor.
“Yes, my love.”
Kylo looked down the hall behind him, then back at his father.
“Where Grandmother?”
There it was.
Marquise let out the smallest breath and reached out, smoothing a hand over his son’s hair.
“She’s not back yet.”
Kylo blinked, still half in the fog of sleep.
“Not back?”
“No.” Marquise kept his voice low and gentle. “Remember? She went on her trip with Percy.”
The information landed slowly.
Kylo’s face changed in stages. First confusion. Then disappointment. Then the sad little crumple around his mouth that always came right before tears.
“Oh.”
Marquise knew that look.
He really knew that look when it came from this particular child.
Kylo hugged Pyro tighter.
“I miss her.”
The tears came all at once then, not loud at first, just the helpless little cry of a three-year-old whose world had suddenly remembered to be inconvenient. His lower lip trembled, his eyes filled, and before Marquise could say another word, Kylo was crying in earnest.
Not tantrum crying.
Not angry crying.
Sad crying.
The kind that hit a parent right in the chest.
Marquise stood immediately and scooped him up, Pyro and all, settling him against his shoulder.
“I know,” he murmured. “I know, I know.”
Kylo pressed his wet face into his father’s neck.
“She gone.”
“Yes,” Marquise said softly, rubbing his back. “But only for a little while.”
“I want her now.”
That, unfortunately, was the problem with missing someone. Logic never stood a chance.
Marquise carried him a few steps farther down the hall, swaying slightly the way he had when the twins were babies, though the child in his arms was much too big now to pretend he still was one.
“I know,” he said again. “I know you do.”
Kylo sniffled hard, one tiny fist still gripping his father’s shirt.
Marquise looked down the empty corridor, thinking.
Then a familiar kind of mischief — the harmless, fatherly kind — flickered behind his eyes.
He lowered his voice.
“Would you like to help me with a mission?”
Kylo’s crying slowed, not stopped, but interrupted by curiosity.
“A mish’on?”
Marquise nodded very seriously.
“A secret one.”
Kylo leaned back enough to look at him through damp lashes.
“…Secret?”
“Yes.”
His son considered this.
Even through sadness, the word had power.
“What mish’on?”
Marquise glanced both ways down the corridor as if the walls themselves might be listening.
“We need to secure a snack.”
Kylo blinked.
“A snack?”
“A very important snack.”
That made him sniffle again, but this time there was uncertainty instead of outright grief.
“What kinda snack?”
Marquise lowered his voice even more.
“The kind from the kitchens.”
Kylo gasped softly.
“The good ones?”
“The very good ones.”
He paused for effect.
“But we have to be quiet.”
That did it.
Kylo wiped his nose on the back of his hand and straightened slightly in his father’s arms.
“I be quiet.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“I don’t tell.”
“You can’t laugh too loud.”
Kylo’s mouth twitched.
“I whisper laugh.”
Marquise nodded as if that were an acceptable military strategy.
“Good. Then we should begin.”
He set Kylo down carefully, took his small hand, and together they started down the hall like two conspirators on state business.
Pyro, naturally, remained tucked under Kylo’s arm as co-pilot and witness.
The corridor lamps had been dimmed for the night, leaving pools of soft golden light along the floor. Their footsteps echoed faintly, though Kylo tried very hard to walk like a spy and ended up lifting his knees too high with each step, which made him look like a very small, very determined stork.
Marquise glanced down at him.
“You look suspicious.”
Kylo frowned.
“No I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I’m sneakin’.”
“You’re marching.”
Kylo thought about that.
Then lowered his knees and began taking exaggerated tiny steps instead.
“That’s worse,” Marquise said.
A palace maid appeared at the far end of the hallway carrying folded linens, and Marquise immediately pulled Kylo behind one of the large potted palms lining the wall.
Kylo gasped in delighted horror.
“We hide?”
“We hide.”
The maid passed without ever noticing them.
Kylo looked up, eyes wide.
“She didn’t see us.”
“No.”
“We good at dis.”
“We’re excellent at this.”
They moved again.
At the next corner, one of the footmen was speaking quietly with a guard, and Marquise stopped short, lightly catching Kylo by the shoulder before he could walk straight into view.
“Obstacle,” he whispered.
Kylo nodded gravely.
“Big one.”
“Very.”
They ducked into an alcove beneath one of the tall windows, pressing themselves into the shadows while the men finished their conversation.
Kylo looked absurdly pleased with himself.
When the hallway cleared, he tugged on his father’s hand.
“Go, go, go.”
Marquise nearly laughed.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
They made it to the service corridor just outside the kitchens before Kylo tugged to a stop.
“What if they catch us?”
Marquise leaned down, equally solemn.
“Then we tell them this is a royal pastry inspection.”
Kylo’s eyes widened.
“That real?”
“It is now.”
The kitchen doors were cracked open, warm light spilling out into the corridor. Inside, most of the evening bustle had long since faded. A few trays had been covered and set aside for morning, counters were mostly cleared, and only a single lamp above the far prep station remained lit.
Marquise pushed the door open just enough for them to slip inside.
Kylo looked around like he had entered sacred ground.
“So much food,” he whispered.
“Focus,” Marquise whispered back.
“Right.”
They crept past the big central table, past the bread racks, past a bowl of fruit Kylo eyed with profound disrespect. Then Marquise opened one of the pastry cabinets and found exactly what he’d hoped would still be there.
Double chocolate pastries.
Four of them.
Maybe five.
He looked down at his son.
“Target acquired.”
Kylo’s whole face lit up.
“The good ones!”
“The very good ones.”
Marquise lifted two, then after a second thought, three, and placed them on a small plate.
Kylo stared.
“One for me.”
“Yes.”
“One for you.”
“Yes.”
“One for… Grandmother?”
That one almost took him out.
Marquise softened and looked down at the pastry for a beat.
“We can’t send it to Santorini,” he said gently.
“Oh.”
“But,” he added, “we can call her.”
Kylo looked up so fast Marquise thought his neck might click.
“Now?”
“If she’s awake.”
His son brightened instantly.
“Do it.”
Marquise picked up the plate, handed Kylo one pastry right there, and they settled at the small staff table tucked into the corner near the window. Kylo took one bite and immediately got chocolate on his cheek.
Marquise set the plate down and pulled his phone from his pocket.
He hesitated only a moment before making the call.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then the screen lit up with Eleanor’s face.
She was sitting on the terrace outside the villa, a light wrap around her shoulders, dark Mediterranean water stretched behind her under the night sky. A lamp glowed near her elbow, soft gold against the white stone. Percy was visible somewhere in the background, leaning against the doorway with a glass in his hand and a look of amused surprise when he realized who was calling.
Eleanor’s expression shifted the moment she saw them.
“Well, there are my boys.”
Kylo nearly launched himself across the table toward the phone.
“Grandmother!”
Her face warmed immediately.
“There you are.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too, my darling.”
He took another urgent bite of pastry, then remembered this was serious and swallowed quickly.
“You gone.”
“I am.”
“For long.”
“Only a little while.”
Kylo frowned like two weeks remained deeply unreasonable.
Marquise angled the phone so she could see the chocolate on his face.
“He woke up looking for you.”
Eleanor’s expression softened at once.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Kylo pressed closer to the screen.
“When you come home?”
“Soon,” she promised. “And when I do, I’ll have all the hugs, snuggles, cuddles, and kisses I can possibly carry for you.”
Kylo blinked.
“All of ’em?”
“All of them.”
“And for Zyon?”
“Yes.”
“And Ellie?”
“Yes.”
“And Khari?”
Eleanor smiled.
“Yes, for Khari too.”
That seemed acceptable.
Kylo nodded once and took another bite of pastry, already comforted by the promise.
From the background, Percy stepped closer, lifting one brow when he saw the plate on the table.
“Is that a double chocolate pastry?”
Marquise didn’t bother sounding ashamed.
“It’s a rescue operation.”
Percy laughed softly.
“Of course it is.”
Eleanor tilted her head slightly.
“Where exactly are you?”
Kylo answered with all the joy of a child confessing crime.
“We sneakin’.”
Marquise looked at him.
“Well, that was classified.”
Kylo grinned.
“We hid from people.”
“I gathered.”
Eleanor shook her head, laughing under her breath.
“You two are impossible.”
“Successful,” Marquise corrected.
Kylo held up his pastry proudly.
“We got snacks.”
“I see that.”
The breeze shifted behind Eleanor, tugging at a strand of hair near her face. She tucked it back absently, then looked through the screen at Marquise a little more closely.
He knew that look.
The mother look.
The one that checked on him even while she was speaking to someone else.
He leaned back a little in the chair and, because it suddenly felt like the right time to say it, asked, “Would you come to Boston for Thanksgiving?”
Eleanor blinked.
“Boston?”
He nodded.
“Shanelle’s feeling homesick. The children would love it. I’d love it. And it would be good to have everyone together.”
Kylo, not understanding half the conversation but understanding the phrase “everyone together,” immediately approved.
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s face softened all over again.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
From somewhere behind her, Percy nodded.
“I’ll be in New York with Holden for the holidays,” he said, stepping fully into frame now. “And then I’m planning to see Valerie in Connecticut.”
Kylo heard none of that. He was too busy licking chocolate off one finger.
But Marquise nodded.
“That works.”
Eleanor smiled.
“Then yes. Boston for Thanksgiving.”
“Good.”
Kylo looked up suddenly.
“Thanksgivin’?”
“Yes,” Marquise said.
“With turkey?”
“Yes.”
“And pie?”
“Yes.”
Kylo looked at Eleanor through the phone.
“You come.”
“I will.”
He seemed satisfied by that too.
Then the kitchen door creaked open.
Marquise and Kylo both turned at once.
Shanelle stood in the doorway in a robe with Ellie nowhere in sight, one brow lifted. Beside her stood Khari, arms crossed, trying and failing not to laugh, and Zyon, hair tousled from sleep, Toby tucked under one arm.
For one long moment, no one said anything.
Then Shanelle looked at the pastries.
Then at her husband.
Then at her son.
Then at the phone with Eleanor still very much on it.
“…Am I interrupting a covert operation?”
Kylo straightened immediately.
“No.”
Khari snorted.
“That means yes.”
Zyon padded into the kitchen, rubbing one eye.
“You got pastries without me.”
“Traitorous,” Khari muttered.
Shanelle walked fully inside, went straight to the pastry cabinet, opened it, and took out three more double chocolate pastries.
One for herself.
One for Khari.
One for Zyon.
She closed the cabinet and looked over her shoulder at Marquise.
“I’m letting this slide,” she said, “because now I’m involved.”
Khari took her pastry with a grin.
“That seems fair.”
Zyon accepted his like a peace treaty.
“I knew I smelled chocolate.”
On the phone, Eleanor laughed so hard she had to lower her head for a second.
Percy covered his mouth, smiling into his hand.
Marquise leaned back in his chair, utterly unrepentant.
“It was a morale exercise.”
“Of course it was,” Shanelle said.
Kylo looked around at all of them and, realizing the mission had expanded rather than failed, bit into his pastry with renewed confidence.
At the other end of the call, Eleanor smiled at the sight of the whole family in the kitchen at nearly ten at night, half-asleep, half-dressed, stealing pastries and pretending not to.
And for a little while longer, with chocolate on their fingers and laughter in the quiet kitchen, the world stayed exactly as it should be.
The last day in paradise didn’t announce itself.
There was no shift in the air.
No sudden change in the light.
No sense—at least not at first—that anything was about to end.
Santorini woke the same way it always had.
Slowly.
Gently.
Sunlight slipping through the curtains in soft gold ribbons, the sea beyond the terrace catching it in quiet fragments, the world stretching into motion without asking anyone’s permission.
Eleanor was already awake when Percy stirred.
Not out of restlessness.
Not out of habit.
Just… awake.
She stood near the open doors, barefoot again, one hand resting lightly against the frame as she watched the morning settle across the water.
For a long moment, she didn’t move.
She didn’t need to.
Behind her, Percy shifted, then sat up slowly, blinking once as he adjusted to the light.
“You’ve been up long?” he asked.
She shook her head slightly without turning.
“Not long.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair before standing.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“I slept,” she said. “I just… didn’t want to miss this.”
He stepped closer, stopping just behind her shoulder.
The view was unchanged.
Still perfect.
Still endless.
Still—
Temporary.
He didn’t say that part.
Neither did she.
After a moment, she spoke again.
“It’s strange,” she said quietly. “How quickly something can start to feel… familiar.”
Percy leaned lightly against the doorframe.
“Two weeks is enough time for that.”
“Not usually,” she said. “Not like this.”
He didn’t argue.
Because she was right.
There was something about this place that didn’t just relax you.
It settled into you.
She turned slightly then, looking at him with a small, thoughtful smile.
“I think I’m going to miss this.”
“You will.”
“And you?”
He shrugged faintly.
“I’ll miss you missing it.”
That made her laugh softly.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the honest one.”
She shook her head, amused, then stepped back inside.
“Well,” she said, “we should probably not spend our last day standing in a doorway.”
“That would be a poor use of resources.”
“Exactly.”
⸻
Breakfast was, as always, waiting.
Set neatly on the terrace.
Fresh.
Unnecessary.
Perfect.
Eleanor lingered a little longer than usual, taking her time with everything—her coffee, the fruit, even the way she rested her hand against the table as she looked out at the water.
Not rushing.
Not hurrying.
Just… holding onto it.
Percy noticed.
Of course he did.
But he didn’t comment.
Didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t break it.
Some things didn’t need to be spoken.
⸻
Afternoon — The Almost Goodbye
They didn’t go far that day.
No boat.
No long walk.
No attempt to fit one more experience into the hours they had left.
Instead—
They stayed.
At the villa.
On the terrace.
Moving in and out of the rooms like people who understood that leaving didn’t require doing more.
It required noticing.
They sat in the shade.
They talked.
They didn’t talk.
At one point, Eleanor brought out the small bag of gifts again, checking each one as if confirming it was still real.
The bracelet.
The carved box.
The stone star.
Something soft and safe for Ellie.
She arranged them carefully, then repacked them with the same care.
“They’re going to be unbearable when I get back,” she said.
“They already are,” Percy replied.
She smiled.
“That’s fair.”
⸻
Evening — The Shift
Dinner came and went without ceremony.
Simple.
Light.
Quiet.
The sky darkened slowly, the last of the sunlight slipping below the horizon until the sea became a dark, endless mirror reflecting the first scatter of stars.
Eleanor stood at the railing again.
The same place.
The same view.
But this time—
There was something else.
Not dread.
Not fear.
Just…
Awareness.
“This was a good idea,” she said softly.
Percy stepped beside her.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad we came.”
“So am I.”
A pause.
Then—
“We should do it again.”
He looked at her.
“Next time, we bring the children.”
She smiled.
“Kylo would try to rename the island.”
“He’d succeed.”
“Zyon would disappear into the landscape.”
“We’d find him eventually.”
“Khari would pretend she wasn’t impressed.”
“And then take notes.”
“Ellie would clap at everything.”
“That sounds right.”
They stood there for a while longer.
Then Eleanor exhaled softly.
“I think I’m ready to sleep.”
Percy nodded.
“Good.”
She stepped back inside.
He followed.
The doors closed behind them.
The night continued.
⸻
Night — The Door
The villa was quiet.
Not silent.
There was always the sea.
Always the faint movement of air through open spaces.
But inside—
Still.
Eleanor fell asleep easily.
That, more than anything, told Percy how much she needed this.
She didn’t turn.
Didn’t stir.
Didn’t carry the weight of Cordonia into her rest.
She simply…
Slept.
Percy lay awake.
Not because something was wrong.
Not because he was expecting anything.
Just… awake.
The kind of wakefulness that came when your mind hadn’t quite settled, even if everything around you had.
He stared at the ceiling for a while.
Listened to the rhythm of the waves.
Felt the quiet.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Barely there.
A whisper of something against wood.
His eyes shifted toward the door.
Nothing moved.
Nothing obvious.
But something had changed.
He sat up slowly.
Carefully.
Not to wake her.
Eleanor didn’t stir.
Of course she didn’t.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, crossing the room in silence.
The envelope lay just inside the door.
Plain.
Unmarked.
Exactly where it shouldn’t have been.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Not confused.
Not surprised.
Just…
Still.
Then he bent, picking it up between two fingers like it might disappear if he wasn’t careful.
He didn’t open it right away.
He didn’t need to.
He already knew.
Still—
He opened it.
Inside—
One sheet.
One instruction.
No signature.
No explanation.
No room for interpretation.
⸻
Project Helios.
Gain access.
Establish influence.
Secure control.
⸻
The words didn’t move.
Didn’t change.
Didn’t soften.
They didn’t need to.
Percy stood there, the paper in his hand, the quiet of the villa pressing in around him.
Behind him—
Eleanor slept.
Peaceful.
Unaware.
He looked at her.
Really looked.
At the way her hand rested loosely against the pillow.
At the way her breathing stayed slow and even.
At the absence of tension in her shoulders.
At the version of her that only existed when the world wasn’t asking anything from her.
Then he looked back at the paper.
Project Helios.
Of course.
Of course it was.
Not something small.
Not something distant.
Not something optional.
No.
Something central.
Something dangerous.
Something that could not be ignored.
He exhaled slowly.
Not sharp.
Not panicked.
Just… controlled.
Because panic wouldn’t help.
Shock wouldn’t change anything.
And refusal—
Wasn’t an option.
He knew that.
He had always known that.
This was the part no one saw.
The part that lived beneath everything else.
The part that didn’t care about timing.
Or happiness.
Or how perfect the last two weeks had been.
The part that moved when it was ready.
Not when it was convenient.
He folded the paper once.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Then again.
And slipped it back into the envelope.
He didn’t throw it away.
Didn’t tear it.
Didn’t pretend it wasn’t real.
Because it was.
And it would remain so.
He set it on the small table near the door.
Then stood there for a moment longer.
Looking at nothing.
Thinking about everything.
Then—
He turned.
Walked back to the bed.
Percy lay back down slowly.
Carefully.
Like the room might notice if he moved too quickly.
Eleanor shifted beside him, her hand brushing lightly against his arm as she settled closer in her sleep.
Instinct.
Trust.
Unaware.
He stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
Then turned his head slightly, just enough to look toward the small table near the door.
The envelope sat exactly where he had left it.
Plain.
Unremarkable.
Impossible to ignore.
His gaze lingered on it.
Then—
He looked away.
Because looking at it wouldn’t change anything.
Closing his eyes wouldn’t either.
But he did anyway.
Not to sleep.
Not yet.
Just to think.
Because morning would come.
The flight would leave.
Cordonia would be waiting.
And now—
So would something else.
Logan Airport carried a different kind of noise.
Not the polished, controlled rhythm of royal arrivals.
Not the quiet efficiency of private terminals.
This was movement.
Real movement.
Voices overlapping. Luggage wheels against tile. Announcements echoing faintly overhead. The steady pulse of a city that never quite paused, even in the days leading up to a holiday meant for slowing down.
Eleanor stepped off the plane into it with a small, almost imperceptible pause.
Not hesitation.
Recognition.
The last time she had stood in this city, she had done so unseen.
Unclaimed.
A ghost in a crowd that included her own son.
Now—
She walked forward without hiding.
Without watching from a distance.
Without wondering if she would be recognized.
Because this time…
She was meant to be here.
Her coat was wrapped neatly around her, the November air already finding its way through the doors and into the terminal, sharp enough to remind her that Santorini had been a different world entirely.
A familiar one.
But temporary.
Boston—
Boston felt grounded.
The kind of place that held history in its streets and didn’t apologize for it.
She moved through the terminal with quiet ease, her presence noticed but not disrupted. A few glances. A few double takes. But nothing that slowed her.
And then—
She saw him.
Marquise stood just beyond the barrier, tall enough that he didn’t need to search for her in the crowd. He wasn’t dressed like a king—not formally. No crown. No ceremony. Just a coat, hands tucked loosely into the pockets, posture relaxed in a way that belonged more to a son waiting for his mother than a monarch receiving anyone of importance.
The moment their eyes met—
He moved.
Closing the distance in long, easy strides, not waiting for formalities, not waiting for permission.
He pulled her into a hug before she could say a word.
Tight.
Immediate.
Real.
“I’ve missed you.”
Her hands came up around him just as quickly.
“I’ve missed you too, my love.”
For a moment, the airport disappeared.
No movement.
No noise.
Just the two of them.
Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her.
“You look well.”
“So do you,” she replied.
“That’s a lie.”
She smiled faintly.
“It’s a kind one.”
He took her bag without asking, as he always did, and turned toward the exit.
“Come on. It’s cold.”
“I noticed.”
⸻
The car pulled away from the airport smoothly, merging into the steady flow of Boston traffic without urgency.
Eleanor settled into the seat, looking out the window as the city unfolded around them.
It felt…
Different.
Not unfamiliar.
Just changed.
The skyline held more glass than she remembered. The roads busier. The edges sharper in places that had once felt quieter.
But beneath it—
The same bones.
The same weight of history.
They crossed toward the river, the Charles stretching out beside them, gray-blue under the late afternoon sky. The water moved steadily, indifferent to time, to change, to everything that had happened above it.
Eleanor leaned slightly toward the window.
“It looks different.”
Marquise glanced over.
“It does.”
She watched the river for a moment longer.
“The last time I was here…”
He knew.
Of course he did.
“You were at my graduation,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And I didn’t know.”
“No.”
There was no tension in it now.
No pain.
Just fact.
He looked back to the road.
“I wish I had.”
“I know.”
She turned her gaze back to the city.
“But you weren’t meant to.”
A quiet pause settled between them.
Then she smiled faintly.
“You looked very serious.”
“I mean I was graduating top of my class from Harvard University no less.”
“So humble.” she teased.
“Always.”
“You looked like you were preparing to negotiate a treaty.”
“That sounds accurate.”
She laughed softly.
“And now look at you.”
He smirked.
“I’m still negotiating treaties.”
“That you are.”
They drove along the Charles for a while, the river keeping pace with them as the city moved past.
After a moment, he spoke again.
“Sulovaria stabilized faster than expected.”
Her attention shifted back to him.
“Hmm. Has it?”
“Yes. And Apostolis is doing exactly what he said he would.”
“Publicly,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And privately?”
Marquise’s jaw tightened slightly.
“We’re watching.”
She nodded.
“And Alevendia?”
He exhaled.
“Stronger than they were before the occupation.”
“That quickly?”
“They’ve been rebuilding longer than anyone realized.”
She considered that.
“And Emmett?”
“He’s solid.”
“Meaning?”
“He believes what he’s saying.”
Eleanor leaned back slightly.
“That’s rare.”
“And useful.”
“And dangerous,” she added.
“Yes.”
A brief silence followed.
Then—
“They’ll align with us.”
“They already have.”
“And Sulovaria?”
Marquise didn’t answer immediately.
The car turned, moving closer toward the neighborhood near Paul Revere Park, the streets narrowing slightly, the city softening into something more lived-in.
“We’ll see,” he said finally.
Eleanor didn’t press.
She didn’t need to.
⸻
They turned onto the final street, the house coming into view at the end of the block.
Warm.
Lit.
Alive.
Eleanor’s expression softened immediately.
“I brought gifts,” she said.
“I know.”
“I couldn’t help myself.”
“I expected nothing less.”
She smiled.
“I can’t wait to see them.”
Marquise glanced at his phone briefly, then back at the road.
“I texted Shanelle,” he said. “They’re all waiting at the front door.”
Eleanor’s brows lifted.
“Oh?”
He slowed the car, then turned slightly.
“But we’re not using the front door.”
She looked at him.
“No?”
“No.”
A faint, familiar mischief crept into his expression.
“We’re going through the kitchen.”
Her smile widened.
“…Of course we are.”
⸻
The Surprise
The back door opened quietly.
The warmth hit them immediately—different from the palace, different from Santorini.
Heavier.
Fuller.
Filled with the unmistakable scent of food, of preparation, of something being built in anticipation.
Voices carried faintly from the front of the house.
Excited.
Waiting.
Eleanor paused just inside the kitchen, her hand resting lightly against the edge of the counter as she listened.
For a moment—
She didn’t move.
Marquise looked at her.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
They stepped forward together, moving down the hallway toward the front.
The voices grew louder.
Khari’s.
Zyon’s.
Kylo’s—
impatient, animated, unmistakable.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She should be here.”
“She’s coming.”
“I hear the car—”
Marquise stopped and stepped aside to let her into the doorway first.
“Who’s coming?” she asked
Three heads turned at once.
Recognition.
Shock—
Then—
“GRANDMOTHER!”
Eleanor stepped in just as the twins launched themselves forward.
Kylo first.
Then Zyon.
Both colliding into her at once, arms wrapping around her waist with absolutely no restraint.
She laughed—full, unguarded, immediate—as she dropped to her knees to catch them both.
“My boys!”
“I missed you!”
“I missed you more!”
“You gone long!”
“I know, I know—”
They talked over each other, clinging to her, pressing into her like they were making up for every day she’d been gone.
Zyon looked up suddenly.
“Did you bring gifts?”
Khari groaned from behind them.
“Of course that’s your first question.”
Eleanor laughed, brushing her hand over his hair.
“Yes, I brought gifts.”
Kylo gasped.
“I knew it!”
Shanelle appeared in the doorway then, Ellie balanced on her hip, a smile already breaking across her face.
“Well,” she said, “it looks like someone made it home.”
Eleanor looked up.
And just like that—
She was back.
Not as a queen.
Not as a symbol.
Just a Grandmother. Mother. Family.
Exactly where she was meant to be.
The house did not stay quiet for long.
It couldn’t.
Not with three children running between rooms like they owned the place, not with Ellie discovering that crawling across hardwood floors was vastly superior to staying in one spot, and certainly not with the kitchen already beginning to hum with preparation for a holiday that, until now, Eleanor had only ever heard about.
She stood just inside the doorway of the dining room, watching it all unfold.
Hands resting lightly against the back of a chair.
Observing.
Taking it in.
“This is a lot,” she murmured.
From behind her, Shanelle smiled.
“You haven’t even seen tomorrow yet.”
Eleanor glanced back.
“I’m beginning to suspect I should pace myself.”
“You should,” Shanelle said. “But you won’t.”
“That’s fair.”
From somewhere down the hall—
“GRAMMY HERE?!”
The front door burst open.
Cold air rushed in.
And with it—
Energy.
Damien Miller stepped inside first, tall, composed, carrying the kind of presence that filled a room without effort. Behind him, Duchess Shantel Miller swept in with warmth already written across her face, her coat barely fastened before it was being shrugged off.
“Where are my babies?” Shantel called.
“IN HERE!”
The response came from all three directions at once.
Khari appeared first, trying to maintain some level of composure and failing the moment she reached her grandmother.
“Grammy!”
Shantel caught her immediately.
“There’s my girl!”
Kylo and Zyon were not far behind.
“GRAMMY!”
“POP POP!”
They collided into Damien next, who braced automatically, laughing under his breath as both boys wrapped around his legs like they had no intention of letting go.
“Well,” he said, looking down at them, “I see I’ve been missed.”
“You was gone long,” Kylo declared.
“It was two days.”
“That long.”
Zyon nodded in agreement.
“Very long.”
Damien shook his head.
“I’ll make note of that.”
Shantel finally set Khari down just in time to catch both twins as they redirected themselves toward her, hugging her waist with full force.
“My goodness,” she laughed, holding them both. “What have they been feeding you?”
“Everything,” Khari said.
“That explains it.”
From the side, Eleanor stepped forward.
Shantel turned—
And immediately smiled wider.
“Well now,” she said, crossing the room. “Look at you.”
Eleanor returned the smile.
“And look at you.”
They embraced without hesitation.
Warm.
Familiar.
No formality.
“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Shantel said as she pulled back.
“As have I.”
Damien approached next, offering Eleanor a hug just as easily.
“It’s good to finally have you here for this,” he said.
“It’s good to be here,” she replied.
And she meant it.
Because this—
This was something she had never had.
Not like this.
Not openly.
Not surrounded by family, by laughter, by children calling out for their grandparents like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ellie made her presence known with a loud, delighted—
“BA!”
Shantel turned immediately.
“And who is this?”
Shanelle stepped forward, shifting Ellie on her hip.
“This,” she said, “is your granddaughter who believes she runs everything.”
“Already?” Damien asked.
“Already.”
Shantel took Ellie without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“Well, hello, Miss Ellie.”
Ellie stared at her for half a second—
Then smiled.
“Buh!”
“That’s right,” Shantel said. “We’re going to get along just fine.”
⸻
The House Fills
Coats were hung.
Bags were dropped.
Voices overlapped.
The house expanded to accommodate it all—not physically, but in feeling.
More laughter.
More movement.
More life.
From the kitchen, the smell of something warm and rich began to drift outward, wrapping itself around the room like a quiet promise of what tomorrow would bring.
Eleanor moved slowly through it, not separate from it, but not rushing either.
Taking it in.
Khari talking to Shantel about school.
Zyon trying to show Damien something on his iPad while still holding Toby.
Kylo explaining—very seriously—how space worked now.
Ellie clapping at absolutely nothing.
Shanelle directing without looking like she was directing.
Marquise watching all of it with that quiet satisfaction he only ever showed when his world was exactly where he wanted it.
Eleanor stopped beside him.
He glanced down at her.
“You alright?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
A beat.
Then—
“This is my first time.”
He smiled faintly.
“Thanksgiving?”
“Yes.”
“And Boston.”
“And… this.”
He understood.
Of course he did.
He looked around the room.
“At this scale, it tends to get a little chaotic.”
She watched as Kylo attempted to climb onto a chair while still explaining orbital mechanics to Damien.
“I noticed.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She smiled.
“I think I already am.”
⸻
Later, as the initial excitement settled into something steadier, Eleanor found herself seated near the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands she had not yet touched.
Shantel sat across from her, watching the children move between rooms.
“They adore you,” Shantel said.
Eleanor glanced toward them.
Kylo and Zyon were now arguing about whether or not Pyro and Toby needed their own seats at the table.
“They make that very clear.”
Shantel smiled.
“They always do.”
A pause.
Then—
“This is your first Thanksgiving.”
Eleanor nodded.
“It is.”
Shantel leaned back slightly.
“Well,” she said, “you picked a good one.”
“I had excellent guidance.”
“Yes, you did.”
They shared a quiet smile.
Across the room, Ellie let out another loud—
“DA!”
And both women laughed.
⸻
The Meaning of It
As evening settled in, the house grew warmer.
Not just in temperature.
In presence.
In connection.
In something deeper than tradition.
Eleanor stood near the window again, just as she had in Santorini—but this time, the view wasn’t the sea.
It was the reflection of the room behind her.
Family.
Movement.
Life.
Marquise stepped beside her once more.
“You’re thinking again,” he said.
“I am.”
“About?”
She looked at the reflection of the children.
At Ellie.
At the twins.
At Khari.
At Shanelle and her parents.
Then at him.
“I’ve spent a great deal of my life watching things from a distance,” she said quietly.
He didn’t interrupt.
“And now,” she continued, “I’m standing in the middle of it.”
This Is Part 4 Of Chapter 13 Of Eternity. This Is Hinge.
Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations
Back in Cordonia
The palace felt quieter without her.
Marquise didn’t notice it at first. Not in the obvious way. The halls were still full, the staff still moving, the children still loud enough to make up for three extra people if they really tried.
But something was missing.
He stood near the window of the sitting room, jacket off, sleeves rolled, a glass in his hand he hadn’t taken a sip from in several minutes.
Leo sat across from him, one leg crossed over the other, looking far too comfortable for someone who had spent the last hour complaining about not going on the trip himself.
“I’m telling you,” Leo said, “she’s been gone six hours and the place already feels wrong.”
Marquise snorted quietly.
“She’s on vacation, not exile.”
“Same difference.”
“You saw her yesterday.”
“That’s not the point.”
Marquise finally took a drink.
“You didn’t go because Hana had an appointment.”
“Yes.”
“You chose not to miss it.”
“Yes.”
“And if you had gone, she would have yelled at you.”
Leo sighed dramatically.
“She absolutely would have yelled at me.”
Marquise smirked.
“She would have yelled at both of us.”
Leo leaned back farther in the chair.
“She still calls me her son like I’m ten years old.”
“You are ten years old,” Marquise said.
“Emotionally, maybe.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
Leo glanced toward the door, then back at his brother.
“She looked happy, though.”
Marquise nodded once.
“She did.”
“That helps.”
“It does.”
Leo picked up the glass in front of him, turning it slowly between his fingers.
“You know she would’ve fussed at me for not coming.”
“She would’ve fussed at you for missing Hana’s appointment.”
“She would have done both.”
Marquise laughed quietly.
“That’s true.”
Leo leaned his head back against the chair.
“She calls us both her sons, you know.”
Marquise looked at him.
“I know.”
Leo shrugged.
“Still weird sometimes.”
Marquise’s expression softened slightly.
“She means it.”
“I know she does.”
Another quiet moment passed.
Leo exhaled.
“…I miss her already.”
Marquise looked back out the window.
“Yeah,” he said.
“So do I.”
Outside, the palace grounds stretched into the late afternoon light, calm and unchanged.
Inside, the house felt just a little emptier.
And far across the sea, in a white villa above the Mediterranean, Eleanor laughed at something Percy said as the wind carried the sound of the waves up the cliff.
For the moment, the world was quiet.
The villa changed at night.
During the day, it had felt open—sunlight pouring through every window, the sea stretching endlessly beyond the terrace, the air bright and alive with movement. But at night, everything softened. The white stone walls held onto the warmth of the day, the breeze slowed, and the Mediterranean turned from brilliant blue to something darker, deeper, stretching out under a sky scattered with stars.
Eleanor stood at the edge of the terrace, one hand resting lightly against the railing, her gaze fixed on the water below.
The sound of the waves carried upward in a steady rhythm—gentle, constant, grounding.
For the first time in days…
She wasn’t thinking about Cordonia.
Not about the throne room.
Not about the press.
Not about the AFD.
Not about anything waiting for her back home.
Just the sea.
Just the quiet.
Just this.
Behind her, the soft clink of glass against glass broke the silence as Percy stepped out onto the terrace, a second glass of wine in his hand.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want this,” he said, holding it out slightly.
Eleanor glanced back over her shoulder, then smiled faintly as she took it.
“Thank you.”
He leaned against the railing beside her, not too close, not distant either—just enough space to let the moment exist without crowding it.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
They didn’t need to.
The air carried enough for both of them.
After a minute, Percy exhaled slowly.
“Well,” he said, looking out over the water, “this is considerably better than a palace hallway at midnight.”
Eleanor huffed softly.
“That’s a very specific comparison.”
“It’s the most recent one I have.”
She took a sip of her wine, letting the quiet stretch again.
“You’re right,” she said after a moment. “It is better.”
Another pause.
Then, softer—
“It’s… nice.”
Percy glanced at her.
Not because of the word.
Because of how she said it.
Carefully.
Like she wasn’t entirely used to saying it out loud.
“You don’t get to say that very often, do you?” he asked.
Eleanor let out a small breath through her nose.
“No.”
She looked back out at the horizon.
“I get to say ‘efficient.’ I get to say ‘necessary.’ I get to say ‘handled.’”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“But ‘nice’?” she shook her head slightly. “That one doesn’t come up much.”
Percy nodded.
“I figured.”
She turned slightly, resting her forearms against the railing.
“For a long time, I didn’t think it mattered,” she admitted. “Whether things were nice. Whether I was enjoying them. There was always something else to consider. Something more important.”
Her gaze drifted upward, toward the stars.
“There still is.”
“Of course there is,” Percy said.
“But not tonight.”
That made her look at him again.
“Not tonight,” he repeated, quieter now. “Tonight, you’re allowed to just… be here.”
The breeze shifted, brushing a strand of hair across her face. She tucked it back absently, then took another sip of her wine.
“And tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow,” Percy said, “we find a place that serves something better than airplane food and see if the view looks different from the other side of the island.”
She smiled.
“And the day after that?”
“We do it again.”
“And the day after that?”
“We get lost,” he said. “On purpose.”
That earned him a soft laugh.
“I haven’t done that in years.”
“Then you’re overdue.”
She leaned back slightly against the railing, her shoulders finally lowering in a way that hadn’t happened once all day.
“I think I might like being overdue.”
Percy lifted his glass slightly.
“To being overdue.”
She tapped hers lightly against his.
“To being overdue.”
They drank.
The sound of the waves filled the space between them again, steady and unhurried.
After a moment, Eleanor spoke again.
“Do you know what the strangest part of today was?”
Percy tilted his head.
“The star?” he guessed.
She shook her head.
“No.”
“The press?”
“No.”
“The fact that your son stood in front of the world in a space helmet and declared orbital infrastructure his personal property?”
That made her laugh again.
“That was actually my favorite part.”
“Understandable.”
She looked back out at the water.
“The strangest part,” she said slowly, “was how quickly everything moved past it.”
Percy didn’t interrupt.
“We announced something that will change the world,” she continued. “Something that will reshape how nations think about power, about defense, about the future.”
Her voice softened.
“And then… we had dinner.”
He smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
She shook her head slightly, almost in disbelief.
“As if nothing had happened.”
“That’s the only way it works,” Percy said. “If you stop everything every time something world-changing happens… nothing else ever gets done.”
She considered that.
“Is that how you think about it?”
“It’s how I survive it.”
That answer lingered.
Eleanor looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slightly, accepting it for what it was.
“Fair enough.”
Another quiet stretch passed between them.
The stars overhead seemed brighter here. Closer. As if the sky itself had leaned down just enough to be noticed.
“Kylo’s going to love this place,” she said suddenly.
Percy smiled.
“He would.”
“He’d try to claim the entire island.”
“He already claimed orbit. This would be a logical next step.”
“Zyon would disappear into the first patch of greenery he could find.”
“And come back with a handful of bugs.”
“Several,” she corrected.
They both laughed softly.
“And Khari?” Percy asked.
Eleanor smiled.
“She’d pretend she wasn’t impressed.”
“And then ask fifty questions about how everything works.”
“Exactly.”
Percy took another sip of his wine.
“And Ellie?”
Eleanor’s expression softened immediately.
“She’d clap at the ocean.”
He nodded.
“That sounds right.”
The breeze picked up slightly, cool against their skin now as the night settled deeper around them.
Eleanor finished her glass slowly, then set it down on the small table beside her.
For a moment, she just stood there.
Looking out at the water.
Listening to the waves.
Breathing.
Then, quietly—
“I think I’m happy.”
The words hung in the air, simple and unguarded.
Percy didn’t respond right away.
He didn’t joke.
Didn’t deflect.
Didn’t soften it.
He just nodded.
“Good,” he said.
And meant it.
She looked at him again, something lighter in her expression now.
“Come on,” she said. “If I stay out here much longer, I’ll fall asleep standing up.”
“That would be an impressive skill.”
“I’m not interested in testing it.”
They stepped back inside together, the warmth of the villa wrapping around them again as the doors closed softly behind them.
The night outside continued as it always had.
The sea moved.
The stars held.
The world turned.
And for the first time in a long time—
Eleanor slept without thinking about what waited for her in the morning.
Morning came differently in Santorini.
There was no rush to it.
No staff waiting outside doors with schedules.
No briefings.
No reports stacked neatly beside a cup of tea.
Just light.
Soft at first, slipping through the curtains in thin gold lines, stretching slowly across the stone floor until it reached the edge of the bed and climbed its way up the walls like it had nowhere else it needed to be.
Eleanor woke to the sound of the sea.
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Just present.
For a moment, she didn’t move.
She simply lay there, eyes half-open, letting herself exist in that strange, unfamiliar space where nothing was expected of her.
Then she turned her head slightly.
Percy was already awake.
Not fully up, not moving around — just propped slightly against the headboard, looking out through the open doors toward the terrace, one arm resting behind his head like he’d been awake long enough to appreciate the quiet but not long enough to disturb it.
“You’re staring,” she murmured.
He didn’t look away from the view.
“It’s hard not to.”
She followed his gaze.
The water stretched out endlessly, morning light scattering across it in a way that made it look almost unreal.
“…Fair,” she admitted.
A soft knock came at the door a few minutes later, followed by the gentle voice of one of the villa staff.
“Breakfast is prepared whenever you are ready.”
Eleanor smiled faintly.
“That,” she said, “is a sentence I could get used to.”
⸻
Breakfast was served outside.
Of course it was.
A long table set near the edge of the terrace, shaded just enough to keep the sun from becoming too ambitious, laid out with fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, breads, coffee, tea — the kind of spread that suggested someone had decided no one here should have to make a single decision before noon.
Eleanor stepped out first, pausing for a second at the sight of it.
“This is entirely unnecessary.”
Percy followed behind her.
“And yet, here it is.”
She took a seat, reaching for a slice of fruit.
“They’re spoiling us.”
He poured coffee into two cups.
“Yes.”
She took one.
“We’re going to forget how to behave.”
“We already have,” he said. “We’re eating breakfast at ten.”
She glanced at the clock.
“…I stand corrected.”
They ate slowly.
No rush.
No interruption.
No one asking for anything.
At one point, Eleanor leaned back slightly in her chair, looking out over the water with a small, thoughtful smile.
“I don’t remember the last time I had breakfast without someone needing something from me.”
Percy took a sip of his coffee.
“You’ll have to start making a habit of it.”
“I don’t think Cordonia will allow that.”
“Cordonia can wait until next week.”
She huffed softly.
“I like how easily you say that.”
“I’m not the one with a throne.”
“No,” she said, glancing at him. “You just deal with people who think they should have one.”
He smiled.
“That’s different.”
She didn’t argue.
⸻
They didn’t plan much.
That was the point.
They walked through the narrow streets where white stone buildings leaned into each other like they’d grown that way on purpose. They passed small shops with hand-painted signs and open doors, the scent of fresh bread and herbs drifting out into the air. They stopped more than once for no reason other than something looked interesting.
At one point, Eleanor paused in front of a small storefront filled with handmade goods.
Scarves.
Ceramics.
Jewelry.
She stepped inside without announcing it.
Percy followed.
“This feels like trouble,” he said quietly.
“It’s not trouble,” she replied, already picking up a small, hand-painted figurine. “It’s thoughtful.”
“For whom?”
She looked at him like the answer was obvious.
“My grandchildren.”
Of course.
She moved slowly through the shop, considering each item with the same level of attention she would have given a diplomatic decision.
“For Khari…” she murmured, lifting a delicate bracelet.
“She’ll pretend she doesn’t like it,” Percy said.
“She’ll love it,” Eleanor corrected.
“For Zyon…” She picked up a small wooden box with carved patterns along the lid. “Something he can fill with whatever he decides is important that day.”
“Bugs,” Percy said.
“Most likely.”
“And Kylo?”
Eleanor paused.
Then smiled.
She reached for a small, hand-carved star made of polished stone, simple but bright.
“This,” she said.
Percy looked at it.
“That’s perfect.”
“And Ellie,” Eleanor added, already turning toward another display.
“Something she can’t swallow,” Percy said.
“That limits the options considerably.”
They both laughed.
⸻
Lunch was lighter fare.
Always waiting for them when they returned, but never imposed if they didn’t.
Some days they ate on the terrace.
Some days inside.
Some days not at all until late afternoon, when one of the staff would quietly appear with something simple and perfectly prepared, as if they had known exactly when it would be needed.
Time blurred.
In the best way.
They sat in the shade.
They walked along the edge of the cliffs.
They watched the sun dip lower and lower into the horizon until the sky turned colors that didn’t seem entirely real.
At one point, Eleanor slipped her shoes off entirely and stood barefoot against the warm stone, closing her eyes for just a second as the breeze moved around her.
“This is dangerous,” she said.
Percy glanced at her.
“How?”
“I could get used to this.”
He considered that.
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
She opened her eyes again.
“No,” she admitted. “It wouldn’t.”
⸻
Dinner was never rushed.
Courses arrived slowly, deliberately, as if the kitchen understood that time was part of the experience.
Wine appeared when it was wanted.
Dessert appeared even when it wasn’t.
And every evening ended the same way—
On the terrace.
The air cooler now.
The sea darker.
The stars brighter.
On the second night, Eleanor brought the small bag of gifts out with her, setting it on the table between them.
“I’m going to need another suitcase,” she said.
Percy leaned forward slightly.
“You’re not done?”
“I’ve barely started.”
He laughed.
“They’re going to expect this every time.”
“They already do.”
She pulled out the bracelet again, turning it in her fingers.
“Khari will act like it’s too much.”
“And then wear it every day.”
“Yes.”
She set it aside and picked up the carved box.
“Zyon will fill this with leaves and rocks.”
“And insects.”
“And insects.”
She smiled, then reached for the small stone star.
Kylo’s.
Her expression softened.
“He’s going to love this.”
Percy nodded.
“He will.”
She set it down carefully, then leaned back in her chair, looking out at the horizon again.
“They’re going to grow so quickly,” she said quietly.
“They already are.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“I don’t want to miss it.”
Percy didn’t answer right away.
He didn’t need to.
“You won’t,” he said finally.
She believed him.
For now.
The days passed like that.
Soft.
Unhurried.
Full without being heavy.
And somewhere in the quiet space between sunlight and shadow, between laughter and stillness, between what was and what would come next—
The world waited.
Patiently.
A day later.
Shanelle’s office was quieter than usual.
Not empty—never that—but quieter in the way a room becomes when something important is about to be witnessed rather than decided. The large windows behind her desk let in the soft gray light of late morning, the sky over Cordonia stretched thin with clouds that hinted at colder days ahead.
Across the room, Ellie sat in her playpen, entirely unconcerned with international politics.
She babbled to herself, tapping a soft block against the side rail with delighted determination, occasionally pausing to laugh at something only she understood. Every so often, she would look up toward her parents as if to confirm they were still there, then return to her work with renewed enthusiasm.
Marquise stood near the far side of the room, arms crossed loosely, his attention fixed on the large screen mounted along the wall.
Shanelle sat on the edge of her desk, one leg crossed over the other, a tablet resting in her lap though she hadn’t looked at it in several minutes.
They had both seen the reports.
They had both read the briefings.
But this—
This was different.
This was the moment the world would see him.
The screen flickered once.
Then stabilized.
The seal of Sulovaria filled the display—etched in gold and deep obsidian, the towering image of Mount Corvite rising at its center, its peak framed by curling plumes that suggested both destruction and rebirth. It was not a gentle crest. It never had been.
It was a warning.
And a promise.
Shanelle tilted her head slightly.
“They didn’t change it.”
“No,” Marquise said quietly. “They wouldn’t.”
Ellie squealed.
Neither of them looked away.
The feed shifted.
The camera pulled back, revealing the grand press hall of the Sulovarian capital—Lestradre—its architecture darker than Cordonia’s, carved from stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Tall pillars lined the room, banners bearing the crest hanging between them, the gold of the volcano catching what little light there was.
The room was full.
Press from across the continent.
Diplomats.
Military observers.
All waiting.
A low murmur moved through the hall like distant thunder.
Then—
Silence.
A set of doors at the far end of the chamber opened.
King Apostolis Galanidas stepped forward.
He did not rush.
He did not hesitate.
He walked with the kind of measured control that came from someone who had once worn a crown, lost it, and now carried the weight of reclaiming it.
His attire was simple by royal standards.
Dark.
Structured.
No excess.
No flourish.
Only the crest of Sulovaria at his chest.
He reached the podium and paused, letting the silence settle fully before placing both hands lightly against the sides.
When he spoke, his voice carried easily through the chamber.
“People of Sulovaria.”
No embellishment.
No theatrics.
Just recognition.
The room seemed to lean forward.
“In the past weeks, our nation has endured upheaval, uncertainty, and loss.”
Marquise’s gaze sharpened slightly.
Shanelle’s fingers stilled against her tablet.
Apostolis continued.
“We have seen the consequences of decisions made without foresight, without restraint, and without regard for the people those decisions would ultimately affect.”
No name.
No direct accusation.
But everyone knew.
Demetrius.
Shanelle glanced at Marquise.
“He’s careful,” she murmured.
“Very.”
On screen, Apostolis let the weight of that statement settle before continuing.
“The wars with Kasnia and Cordonia have cost us dearly. Not only in resources, but in lives, in stability, and in the trust of those who once stood beside us.”
A pause.
Then—
“For that… I offer my deepest apologies.”
The room shifted.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
Apologies from monarchs were rare.
Apologies from newly crowned ones… rarer still.
“To the people of Kasnia,” Apostolis said, turning his gaze slightly as though addressing them directly through the camera, “and to all those who suffered as a result of actions taken under my predecessor… I acknowledge the harm done.”
His voice did not waver.
“It will not be ignored.”
In Cordonia, Shanelle exhaled slowly.
“That matters,” she said quietly.
“It does,” Marquise agreed.
On screen, Apostolis straightened slightly.
“Sulovaria stands at a crossroads.”
There it was.
The pivot.
“We can remain defined by the failures of the past…”
A beat.
“Or we can choose to rebuild.”
His hand lifted slightly—not dramatic, not performative, just enough to underscore the shift.
“And we will rebuild.”
The words landed clean.
Certain.
No hesitation.
“Our military will be restored—not for conquest, but for protection.”
“Our economy will be stabilized—not through exploitation, but through measured growth and cooperation.”
“Our alliances will be strengthened—not through fear, but through trust.”
Marquise’s jaw tightened slightly at that last word.
Trust.
It sounded good.
It always did.
But trust, in this world, was currency.
And currency could be manipulated.
Ellie let out a bright, delighted laugh.
Shanelle glanced over instinctively, her expression softening for just a moment as she reached down and adjusted one of the toys in the playpen.
Then she looked back to the screen.
Apostolis continued.
“We do not stand alone.”
There it was.
He let the statement hang for just long enough to draw attention before finishing it.
“With our remaining allies at our side…”
A brief pause.
“…including Cordonia…”
Marquise didn’t move.
Shanelle didn’t speak.
But the air in the room shifted slightly.
“…we will rise from the ashes of these past failures.”
Behind Apostolis, the banners bearing Mount Corvite seemed almost alive in the low light—volcanic, unyielding.
“We will restore Sulovaria to its rightful place among the nations of this world.”
Not dominance.
Not supremacy.
Place.
Measured.
Intentional.
Carefully chosen.
Shanelle leaned back slightly against the desk.
“He’s good.”
“Yes,” Marquise said.
Too good.
On screen, Apostolis’s gaze moved across the room.
“I do not ask for immediate trust.”
Another calculated choice.
“I do not expect it.”
Honesty.
Or the appearance of it.
“I ask only for time.”
A quiet inhale.
“And for the opportunity to prove, through action, that Sulovaria has learned.”
The final line landed with weight.
Not forceful.
Not dramatic.
Just… solid.
He stepped back from the podium.
The room remained silent for a moment.
Then—
Applause.
Not thunderous.
Not overwhelming.
But steady.
Measured.
Respectful.
In Cordonia, the screen held on the image for a few seconds longer before shifting to commentators, analysts, and the inevitable wave of interpretation that followed any statement of that magnitude.
Marquise uncrossed his arms slowly.
“Well,” he said.
Shanelle looked at him.
“Well?”
He exhaled through his nose.
“He said everything he needed to say.”
“And nothing he didn’t.”
“Yes.”
Ellie clapped her hands loudly in her playpen, as if she had personally approved of the entire address.
Shanelle laughed softly under her breath.
“She agrees.”
Marquise glanced over.
“Of course she does.”
Ellie babbled something unintelligible, then knocked her block over with great enthusiasm.
Shanelle stood, walking over to the playpen and lifting her daughter briefly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Behind her, the analysis on the screen had already begun.
Outside, the clouds shifted slightly, letting a sliver of light break through.
Inside, Ellie rested her head briefly against Shanelle’s shoulder, perfectly content.
Shanelle looked at her husband.
“What do you think happens next?”
Marquise didn’t answer right away.
He watched the screen.
Watched the man who had just reclaimed a throne.
Watched the careful construction of a narrative the world was already beginning to accept.
Then—
“Now,” he said, “we watch.”
Because that was the truth of it.
For all the speeches.
For all the promises.
For all the carefully chosen words and measured tones—
The real story hadn’t begun yet.
And somewhere, unseen…
Pieces were already moving.
The third morning felt different.
Not because anything had changed.
But because nothing had.
Eleanor noticed it the moment she stepped onto the terrace.
The same light.
The same sea.
The same soft rhythm of waves against the cliffs below.
And for once—no urgency waiting behind it.
She rested her hands against the railing, breathing in slowly, letting the air settle into her lungs like something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.
Behind her, the villa stirred quietly.
Staff moving in soft, practiced rhythms.
Breakfast being set.
Coffee poured.
The quiet hum of a place that functioned without needing her to guide it.
Percy stepped out a moment later, sleeves rolled, sunglasses tucked into the collar of his shirt.
“You look like you’re deciding whether to stay here forever,” he said.
Eleanor didn’t turn right away.
“I’m considering it.”
“Bold strategy.”
“I think I could make it work.”
He leaned beside her, following her gaze out over the water.
“We’d have to explain that to Cordonia.”
“They’ll manage.”
“They will not.”
That made her smile.
“Probably not.”
He glanced at her.
“There’s a boat waiting.”
That got her attention.
“A boat?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been standing on cliffs for two days,” he said. “And I thought you might like to see what it looks like from the other side.”
She considered him for a moment.
“…You planned this.”
“Lightly.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“Very.”
She pushed off the railing.
“Well,” she said, “we should probably not keep a boat waiting.”
⸻
The Water
The harbor was small.
Tucked just below the cliffs, the water there calmer, darker, shifting gently as the boat rocked against its mooring.
It wasn’t extravagant.
Not oversized.
Just… elegant.
Clean lines. Polished wood. Open deck.
The kind of boat that didn’t need to announce itself.
Eleanor stepped aboard carefully, one hand resting lightly against Percy’s as he steadied her.
“This is unnecessary,” she said again.
“You’ve said that about everything since we arrived.”
“And I’ve been right every time.”
“Still not stopping you from enjoying it.”
“…Also true.”
The boat pulled away from the dock smoothly, the engine low and steady beneath them as the cliffs of Santorini began to recede behind them.
The wind picked up almost immediately, softer than expected but constant, carrying the scent of salt and something warmer beneath it.
Eleanor moved to the edge of the deck, one hand resting against the railing as she looked back.
The island looked different from the water.
Smaller.
Quieter.
Less… imposing.
For a moment, she just watched it.
Then she turned forward.
The open sea stretched ahead.
And for the first time since they arrived—
There was nothing behind them.
⸻
The Island
The smaller island came into view slowly.
A stretch of pale sand and low greenery, untouched in a way that felt deliberate rather than forgotten.
No crowds.
No noise.
Just the gentle curve of the shoreline and the steady hush of the water meeting it.
When the boat came to a stop just offshore, Percy stepped down first, then turned and offered his hand.
Eleanor slipped her shoes off before taking it.
“Already?” he asked.
“I’m not walking on a beach in heels.”
“Fair.”
Her feet hit the sand, and she paused.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
She exhaled slowly.
“…That’s nice.”
Percy stepped beside her, kicking off his own shoes without ceremony.
They walked without speaking at first.
No destination.
No urgency.
Just the quiet rhythm of footsteps along the shoreline, the water brushing against their ankles every few steps as the tide shifted.
Eleanor bent once, picking up a small shell, turning it in her fingers before setting it back down.
“You don’t have to bring everything home,” Percy said.
“I know.”
“You’re going to.”
“Probably.”
They walked farther down the beach, the boat now a quiet shape behind them, the island stretching out in front of them like it had nowhere else to be.
Eventually, they found it.
A small setup beneath a shaded canopy just beyond the curve of the shore.
A table.
Two chairs.
A basket.
Simple.
Perfect.
Eleanor stopped a few steps away.
“You had lunch planned too?”
“I told you,” Percy said. “Lightly.”
She shook her head, smiling.
“This is not light.”
“This is extremely light.”
She stepped under the canopy, brushing her fingers lightly across the edge of the table before sitting.
Inside the basket—
Fresh bread.
Fruit.
Cheese.
A bottle of wine already chilled.
Small dishes prepared with care but not excess.
Exactly what it needed to be.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
They ate slowly.
Not because they had to.
Because there was no reason not to.
At one point, Eleanor leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes briefly as the breeze moved through the canopy above them.
“I haven’t felt this still in a long time,” she said.
Percy watched her for a moment.
“Still isn’t something your life allows for often.”
“No.”
She opened her eyes again, looking out toward the water.
“And yet here it is.”
He followed her gaze.
“Here it is.”
⸻
The Shoreline
After lunch, they walked again.
Barefoot.
Slower now.
The sun lower.
The water warmer against their skin.
Eleanor let the edge of her dress brush the tide without bothering to lift it, her attention fixed somewhere far beyond the horizon.
Percy didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t ask.
Just walked beside her.
After a while, she spoke.
“Do you ever think about what your life would look like if it were… quieter?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
“No.”
That made her glance at him.
“Really?”
“I think about what it would look like if it were different,” he said. “But not quieter.”
“Why not?”
He looked out at the water.
“Because quiet doesn’t always mean better.”
She considered that.
“Today feels better.”
“Today is a break,” he said.
She nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
A pause.
Then, softer—
“I don’t want this to be just a break.”
He didn’t respond right away.
Because that wasn’t a simple statement.
And it didn’t have a simple answer.
Instead, he said—
“Then don’t let it be.”
She looked at him.
And for a moment—
She almost believed that was possible.
⸻
The sun dipped lower.
The sky softened.
The island held its quiet.
And as the boat carried them back toward Santorini, the cliffs rising once more to meet them—
Neither of them said it out loud.
But both of them felt it.
This—
This was something worth holding onto.
Even if it couldn’t last.
The day many had been waiting for had finally come. The day Alevendia would be restored.
Marquise’s office carried a different kind of silence.
Not the anticipatory stillness of Shanelle’s office from earlier that week—this one felt… steadier. Grounded. The kind of quiet that came after something had already begun and now needed to be understood.
The large windows overlooked the palace grounds, autumn creeping in slowly, the trees just beginning to shift at their edges. A soft wind moved through the gardens below, carrying the faint rustle of leaves that hadn’t yet decided whether to fall.
Inside, Ellie had decided none of that mattered.
She sat in her playpen near the window, surrounded by soft toys and wooden blocks, happily narrating her own world in a string of babbles and delighted sounds.
“Ba… da! Buh!”
A block toppled over.
She gasped like it had been a personal betrayal.
Then laughed.
Marquise stood near his desk, one hand resting lightly against its edge, his gaze fixed on the screen mounted across the room.
Shanelle stood beside him, arms loosely crossed, her weight shifted slightly to one hip.
Neither of them spoke.
Not yet.
The screen flickered.
Then steadied.
The crest of Alevendia filled the display—simpler than Sulovaria’s, less imposing, but no less meaningful. A rising horizon, etched in silver and green, framed by the outline of the island itself.
No volcano.
No threat.
Just… land.
Just… survival.
The feed pulled back.
The capital city of Povarak unfolded across the screen.
It was smaller than Lestradre.
Less severe.
But alive in a way that couldn’t be staged.
People filled the streets.
Balconies.
Windows.
Flags hung from every visible surface—green, white, and silver catching the light as they moved in the wind. Not perfectly aligned. Not uniform.
Real.
Shanelle exhaled slowly.
“The people showed up.”
Marquise nodded once.
“They always do… when it matters.”
Ellie clapped her hands loudly, as if she agreed.
“Ba!”
“Yes,” Shanelle murmured absently, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Exactly.”
The camera shifted.
A raised platform stood at the center of the square, simple but deliberate, flanked by guards—not in rigid formation, but present enough to remind everyone that this moment had been fought for.
Then—
He stepped forward.
Emmett Straussmann.
Younger than most rulers.
Not polished in the way monarchs usually were.
But steady.
He wore no excessive regalia.
No heavy crown.
No ornate display of power.
Only a tailored coat bearing the crest of Alevendia and the weight of what had come before him.
Marquise’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“He didn’t change it,” he said quietly.
Shanelle tilted her head.
“No.”
The crest.
The identity.
The history.
Emmett reached the podium.
He paused.
Not for effect.
For breath.
For grounding.
For the moment to be real before he spoke.
When he did, his voice carried—not loud, not forceful, but clear enough to reach every corner of the square.
“People of Alevendia.”
The crowd stilled.
Completely.
Marquise shifted his weight slightly.
Shanelle’s arms loosened.
Ellie dropped a toy, then immediately forgot about it.
“For five years,” Emmett continued, “our home has not been our own.”
No flourish.
No dramatics.
Just truth.
“We have endured occupation… uncertainty… and the slow erosion of the life we once knew.”
The camera cut briefly to the crowd.
Faces.
Real faces.
Tired.
Hopeful.
Watching.
“We have lost much.”
A beat.
“But we have not lost ourselves.”
That landed.
Shanelle’s fingers tapped once lightly against her arm.
“That’s a good line,” she murmured.
“It’s an honest one,” Marquise replied.
On screen, Emmett continued.
“There were those who believed Alevendia would simply…fade.”
His gaze moved across the crowd.
“That we would bend quietly. That we would accept what was taken from us.”
A slight shake of his head.
“They were wrong.”
Not shouted.
Not declared.
Just…stated.
The crowd responded—not explosively, but with a ripple of agreement that spread outward like a wave.
“We endured.”
“We resisted.”
“And we waited.”
His voice steadied further.
“And today…we rise again.”
That one held.
The wind caught the flags.
The crowd swelled.
Not chaotic.
Not frenzied.
Just… full.
Marquise’s jaw tightened slightly.
Shanelle glanced at him.
“You hear it too,” she said quietly.
“Yes.”
Not just emotion.
Alignment.
Loyalty.
Something forming.
Emmett lifted his hand slightly, just enough to settle the crowd again.
“We do not stand here alone.”
There it was.
The thread.
The connection.
“We were not forgotten.”
His eyes lifted slightly—toward the camera, toward the world.
“Even in our darkest hours, there were those who stood with us.”
No names yet.
Not immediately.
But the meaning was clear.
Shanelle didn’t move.
Marquise didn’t blink.
“Cordonia,” Emmett said.
The word carried.
Not shouted.
Not embellished.
Just spoken with weight.
“Provided aid when we had none.”
“Food when we were hungry.”
“Support when we were cut off from the world.”
The crowd responded again—this time louder.
More unified.
Shanelle exhaled slowly.
“That’s going to echo.”
“It already is,” Marquise said.
On screen, Emmett inclined his head slightly.
“For that… Alevendia is grateful.”
He straightened.
“And we do not forget those who stand beside us in our time of need.”
There it was.
Not just gratitude.
A promise.
A declaration.
An alignment.
Ellie slapped her hands against the playpen again.
“Da!”
Marquise glanced over, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly.
“Yes,” he said under his breath. “Exactly.”
Emmett continued.
“Today, I accept the mantle of Grand Duke not as a symbol of power…but as a responsibility.”
His hand rested briefly against his chest.
“To rebuild what was damaged. To restore what was taken. And to ensure that Alevendia will never again stand vulnerable to the wild ambitions of others.”
That line carried a sharper edge.
Subtle.
But there.
Shanelle caught it.
“So he’s not naive.”
“No,” Marquise said. “He’s not.”
The camera pulled back slightly, showing more of the square, more of the people gathered.
“This will take time,” Emmett said.
“It will take effort.”
“It will take unity.”
He paused.
“But we are still here.”
A breath.
“And that…is where we begin.”
He stepped back.
For a moment—
Silence.
Then the sound rose.
Not applause.
Not exactly.
Something fuller.
Voices.
Cheers.
Relief.
Hope breaking through something long held down.
In Cordonia, the screen held on the image as the celebration continued.
Then shifted to commentary.
Analysis.
Speculation.
Shanelle stepped forward and muted it without hesitation.
The room fell quiet again.
Ellie dropped another block.
“Buh!”
Shanelle turned, scooping her up briefly and pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her back down.
Marquise remained where he was, eyes still on the screen.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
“He means it,” Shanelle said.
“Yes.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Yes.”
She crossed the room slowly, stopping beside him again.
“An ally who believes in what they’re building?”
He nodded.
“Is stronger than one who doesn’t.”
“And harder to control.”
He didn’t disagree.
Shanelle folded her arms again, thoughtful now.
“They’re going to look to us.”
“They already are.”
“For more than aid.”
“Yes.”
“For direction.”
“For stability.”
“For protection.”
Marquise finally looked away from the screen.
“For partnership,” he said.
She met his gaze.
“And we give it?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Because that wasn’t a simple question.
Ellie babbled again, entirely unconcerned with alliances, reconstruction, or geopolitical shifts.
“Ba!”
Marquise glanced over at her.
Then back to Shanelle.
“We give what we said we would.”
“And nothing more?” she asked.
A pause.
Then—
“We’ll see.”
That was the truth of it.
Because the world was shifting.
Sulovaria rebuilding.
Alevendia rising.
Cordonia stepping forward.
And somewhere in between—
Forces unseen were already beginning to move.
Shanelle leaned lightly against the edge of the desk.
This Is Part 3 Of Chapter 13 Of Eternity. This Is Hinge.
Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations
A murmur moved through the chamber, quickly suppressed, but impossible to miss.
Shanelle stepped forward slightly, her voice clear as she continued the presentation.
“Iainesco serves as the ground command center for Project Helios,” she said.
“All launch coordination, high-energy research, and orbital communication systems are routed through the island under controlled clearance protocols.”
The screen shifted again, showing layered schematics of the facility.
“Access is restricted.
Authorization is limited.
Oversight is constant.”
She looked directly at the assembled scientists.
“And every system in operation there is subject to Brain Trust review.”
That line mattered.
People heard it.
Marquise nodded once, then turned back toward the screen.
“For most nations,” he said, “that would be enough.”
The image behind him changed again.
Dark space.
Stars.
Earth turning slowly.
A second structure appeared in orbit.
White.
Symmetrical.
Ringed.
Watching.
A few people inhaled sharply.
Marquise did not react.
“Project Helios,” he said, “was never meant to remain on the ground.”
The image rotated, showing the orbital station in full.
Kylo stared up at the screen, eyes wide behind his helmet.
“Space…”
Marquise rested a hand lightly on his back before continuing.
“Kylo’s Kosmos.”
A quiet ripple moved through the room.
Shanelle’s expression softened for just a second before she spoke again.
“Kylo’s Kosmos is a sovereign orbital complex under full Cordonian authority,” she said.
“It operates independently of multinational control, while maintaining cooperative alignment with existing international space infrastructure.”
The display showed the station orbiting near the ISS, but not attached.
Separate.
Deliberate.
Controlled.
Marquise’s voice lowered slightly.
“Observation.
Research.
Defense monitoring.
Deep-space tracking.”
He paused.
“And contingency.”
That word landed harder than the others.
He let the silence hold for one more breath.
Then he continued.
“There is one final component of Project Helios that must be addressed today.”
Shanelle did not move.
The Brain Trust members did not move.
Greenwald did not move.
But the tension in the room changed instantly.
The screen went dark.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then a new schematic appeared.
Not labeled.
Not explained.
Just energy containment diagrams, orbital trajectories, and layered safety protocols that even the press could tell were not meant for public understanding.
Marquise spoke slowly.
“The Brain Trust exists because some discoveries cannot be approached without restraint.”
His gaze moved across the chamber.
“And some technologies cannot exist without oversight.”
He rested his hand on the edge of the podium.
“Under the authority of Project Helios… CASA has completed development of a high-energy stellar containment system.”
A few of the scientists stiffened.
They knew the language.
Shanelle’s voice followed, calm and precise.
“This system is classified under the designation AFD.”
The letters hung in the air.
No one spoke.
Marquise finished the sentence.
“Anti-Fusion Device.”
The room went completely silent.
Not confused silence.
Understanding silence.
He did not smile.
He did not soften the words.
“The AFD was designed as a failsafe,” he said.
“Not a weapon.”
He let that sit.
“It exists for one purpose.”
“To ensure that no force on this planet… or beyond it… ever holds power that cannot be stopped.”
No one moved.
No one breathed loudly enough to hear.
Shanelle stepped forward beside him, her voice steady, her presence grounding the moment.
“The existence of the AFD is restricted to a clearance circle of nineteen individuals,” she said.
The screen shifted again, showing only a small list.
“Sixteen members of the Brain Trust.
The Crown.
And the Supreme General.”
Greenwald did not react.
Marquise did not look away from the room.
“No one else,” he said.
“No one below this level.
No open records.
No unauthorized access.”
He paused.
“And if the Brain Trust ever determines that this system should not be used…”
His eyes moved briefly toward the scientists.
“It will not be used.”
The silence that followed was heavier than anything that had come before.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Something else.
The realization that the world had just changed…and there was no going back.
The silence that followed the announcement did not break right away.
No one in the throne room spoke.
No one shifted in their seats.
Even the press at the back of the chamber seemed to forget to move, their cameras fixed on the dais as the schematic of the AFD hovered on the display behind the throne.
Marquise allowed the weight of it to settle.
Then he turned slightly, his expression unchanged.
“Today,” he said, “you will not be asked to take our word for what we have built.”
A faint stir moved through the room.
He stepped away from the throne, Kylo still holding his hand, the child looking up at the screen like he was watching a cartoon instead of the most classified presentation in the kingdom’s history.
“We believe,” Marquise continued, “that power without accountability invites fear.”
His gaze moved across the chamber.
“And fear invites conflict.”
He stopped at the center of the dais.
“So today… you will see exactly what Project Helios was designed to do.”
A low murmur moved through the crowd, quickly silenced as Shanelle turned slightly toward him.
Their eyes met for a brief moment.
No words.
Just confirmation.
She nodded once.
Then stepped away from the dais, descending the steps and returning to the front row. Eleanor shifted slightly to make room as Shanelle sat beside her, Ellie immediately reaching for her sleeve and babbling as if nothing in the room had changed at all.
Khari lowered her book, suddenly paying full attention.
Zyon pulled one headphone off.
Kylo looked up at his father.
“We go space now?”
Marquise rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“We watch space.”
Kylo nodded seriously.
“Okay.”
Marquise turned back toward the display.
“CASA,” he said, his voice steady, “prepare demonstration feed.”
The lights in the throne room dimmed slightly as the screen behind him shifted from schematics to live telemetry.
Stars.
Blackness.
Numbers moving across the edge of the display.
Coordinates.
Distance markers.
Orbital readouts.
A quiet voice came through the chamber speakers, calm and precise.
“Helios command online.
Iainesco ground link stable.
Kylo’s Kosmos in position.”
Several members of the Brain Trust stood perfectly still, their eyes fixed on the screen.
They had seen this before.
Most of the room had not.
The image zoomed slowly, focusing on a faint, distant point of light surrounded by thin clouds of cosmic dust.
Marquise spoke again.
“The target you are seeing is a stellar remnant located well beyond inhabited space. Unstable. Collapsing. Monitored for years by international observatories.”
He paused.
“Today, it will serve as a demonstration.”
A ripple of disbelief moved through the chamber.
Shanelle did not move.
Greenwald did not move.
On the screen, the image shifted again.
The white shape of Kylo’s Kosmos appeared in orbit, its rings glowing faintly against the darkness.
Even on the display, it looked unreal.
Clean.
Symmetrical.
Watching.
Kylo leaned forward in Marquise’s arms.
“That mine.”
Marquise allowed the smallest smile.
“Yes.”
The display changed again, showing the energy containment array along one of the outer rings.
Numbers began to climb.
Power levels.
Containment fields.
Synchronization.
The voice returned.
“AFD prototype armed.
Containment stable.
Awaiting authorization.”
The room held its breath.
Marquise did not look at the screen.
He looked at the Brain Trust.
One by one, the members of Tier I gave the smallest nod.
Unanimous.
He turned back to the display.
“Authorization confirmed,” he said.
“Proceed.”
On the screen, the rings of Kylo’s Kosmos began to glow, light building slowly along the containment chambers until the entire structure shimmered with a cold, blue-white brilliance.
The air in the throne room felt heavier, even though nothing around them had changed.
Kylo gripped his plush tighter.
“Pretty…”
A beam of light formed at the center of the array.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
Just a narrow, impossibly bright line cutting through the darkness of space.
It reached the distant star in a heartbeat.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the light around the star began to fold inward, the glow shrinking, bending, collapsing into itself as the containment field wrapped around it like a closing hand.
Gas pulled inward.
Light swallowed.
The star dimmed.
Dimmed again.
And then—
It was gone.
Not shattered.
Not exploded.
Gone.
Consumed inside the containment field as if it had never existed.
The telemetry numbers stabilized.
Power dropped.
Silence filled the throne room.
No applause.
No voices.
Just stunned, breathless stillness as the screen showed empty space where the star had been moments before.
Kylo blinked.
“…It ate it.”
Marquise looked down at him.
“Yes.”
Kylo nodded, satisfied.
“Good job.”
Behind the throne, Greenwald did not move.
On the screen, Kylo’s Kosmos drifted quietly in orbit, its rings dimming back to their normal glow as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.
No one in the room spoke.
But high above the planet, inside the heart of the orbital tower, the binary fusion generator that powered the entire station continued to burn — steady, controlled, and far stronger than anything the world had just seen.
And only nineteen people alive knew that if the day ever came when Cordonia was forced to choose…
That light could point the other way.
For several seconds after the light faded from the screen, no one in the throne room moved.
The display showed nothing now but empty space — a quiet stretch of darkness where a star had existed only moments before. The telemetry numbers along the edge of the feed slowed, then steadied, the soft hum of the system the only sound coming through the speakers.
No applause followed.
No voices.
Only silence.
Not confusion.
Not fear.
Something heavier.
The kind of silence that came when a room full of people realized they had just witnessed something they would never be able to forget.
One of the Tier II scientists lowered his glasses slowly, blinking at the screen as if expecting the image to change back.
It didn’t.
A woman from the press row let out a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Someone near the back shifted in their chair, the sound loud in the stillness.
At the front of the chamber, Shanelle sat perfectly still, her hands folded loosely in her lap, her eyes fixed on the display. Her expression had not changed, but the tightness in her shoulders hadn’t gone unnoticed by Eleanor, who sat beside her with Ellie balanced against her arm.
“Well,” Eleanor murmured softly under her breath, just loud enough for Shanelle to hear,
“that certainly wasn’t in the brochures.”
Shanelle let out the smallest breath through her nose, not quite a laugh.
“No,” she said quietly.
“It wasn’t.”
Ellie chose that moment to clap her hands happily, babbling at the glowing screen as if she thought it was the most entertaining thing she had ever seen.
“Ba! Ba! Ba!”
Eleanor bounced her slightly on her knee.
“Yes, darling,” she whispered.
“Your father just rearranged the universe. Very impressive.”
Khari leaned forward in her seat, her book forgotten in her lap, eyes wide as she stared at the screen.
“…Did it just… disappear?”
Zyon, one headphone half hanging off his ear, looked up at the display, squinting.
“Did they turn it off?”
Shanelle glanced at him.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Kylo, still standing beside the throne, tilted his head up at Marquise, clutching his plush tightly under one arm.
“It ate the star.”
Marquise looked down at him, his expression softer than it had been all morning.
“Yes.”
Kylo nodded, completely satisfied with that explanation, then turned back toward the screen like he expected another one to appear.
Behind the throne, General Greenwald finally shifted his weight slightly, his hands still clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the telemetry readouts.
His voice was low when he spoke.
“Containment held.”
Marquise didn’t look at him.
“It always has.”
Across the chamber, several members of the Brain Trust exchanged brief glances, the kind that only people who understood the math behind what they had just seen could give.
Not excitement.
Not celebration.
Relief.
Dr. Helena Kovács folded her arms slowly, her eyes still on the screen.
“Power output stayed within predicted range,” she said quietly.
Dr. Voss nodded once.
“Margin of error was smaller than expected.”
“Good,” Kovács replied.
Near the back, one of the foreign observers leaned toward another, whispering something under his breath.
Whatever he said made the other man sit a little straighter.
At the center of the room, Marquise finally turned back toward the display.
The empty space remained.
Silent.
Calm.
As if nothing had happened at all.
He stood there for a long moment without speaking, the weight of the room settling over him, the knowledge of what he had just shown the world resting squarely on his shoulders.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
“This,” he said,
“is why the Brain Trust exists.”
He looked out across the chamber.
“Because power like this should never belong to one person.”
His gaze moved briefly toward Shanelle.
Then toward the scientists.
Then toward the screen.
“And it should never exist… without restraint.”
The silence that followed felt different.
Not shock anymore.
Not disbelief.
Understanding.
The world had just changed.
And everyone in the room knew it.
The silence lingered a moment longer after Marquise finished speaking, the weight of the demonstration still hanging in the air like something physical, something no one quite knew how to step around.
For the first time since the feed had ended, the murmur of the press began to stir at the back of the chamber. Not loud. Not chaotic. Just the low, uncertain sound of people trying to decide what question to ask after watching a star vanish on live broadcast.
Marquise did not move.
He remained standing at the center of the dais, one hand resting lightly on the edge of the podium, his expression unreadable again, the stoic mask firmly back in place.
He knew the room was no longer looking for power.
It was looking for reassurance.
Before anyone could speak, Shanelle rose.
Eleanor glanced at her immediately, already knowing that look, already recognizing the shift in her posture.
“You’re up,” Eleanor murmured.
Shanelle nodded once.
Ellie reached for her as soon as she stood, tiny hands grabbing at her sleeve with a soft, impatient sound.
“Mama.”
Shanelle lifted her without hesitation, settling her comfortably against her hip as she turned toward the dais.
The movement alone changed the room.
The Queen walking forward was expected.
The Queen walking forward holding a babbling eleven-month-old in a lace dress was not.
Several cameras shifted instinctively.
Marquise saw her coming and stepped aside without a word, giving her the center of the dais as naturally as if it had always belonged to her.
Shanelle stopped in front of the podium, one arm supporting Ellie easily as the baby played with the chain at her neckline, completely unconcerned with the fact that the world was watching.
Shanelle let the silence settle for one more second.
Then she smiled.
Not wide.
Not performative.
Just enough to remind the room that the people standing in front of them were human.
“I imagine,” she said calmly,
“that was not what most of you expected to see this morning.”
A few quiet, nervous laughs moved through the chamber.
Good.
That was exactly what she wanted.
Ellie babbled happily, patting Shanelle’s shoulder as if she agreed.
Shanelle adjusted her slightly, then continued.
“What you just witnessed was not a weapon demonstration,” she said, her tone steady, clear, practiced without sounding rehearsed.
“It was a controlled test conducted under full oversight of the CASA Brain Trust, the Crown, and the Cordonian military.”
Her eyes moved across the room, meeting faces one by one.
“No system within Project Helios can be activated without layered authorization, independent review, and ethical clearance.”
Ellie reached for the microphone.
Shanelle gently moved her hand away without breaking eye contact with the audience.
“And as you have already heard… even the King does not have the authority to bypass those safeguards.”
That line landed exactly the way it needed to.
Not threatening.
Not defensive.
Grounding.
She shifted Ellie to her other hip, the baby now playing with the edge of her sleeve, occasionally squealing at the lights overhead.
Shanelle’s voice softened slightly.
“We understand what this looks like.”
She glanced briefly toward the screen, where the empty stretch of space still lingered on the display.
“It looks like power.”
Her gaze returned to the room.
“It is power.”
No denial.
No spin.
Just truth.
“And power,” she continued,
“is exactly why Project Helios was built the way it was.”
She rested her hand lightly against Ellie’s back as the child leaned against her shoulder.
“My husband and I are not only sovereigns.”
She paused.
“We are parents.”
That shifted the room again.
“You have seen our children here today. You have seen the world they are growing up in. The same world your children are growing up in.”
Her voice stayed calm, but the meaning behind the words carried.
“Project Helios exists to make sure that world is still here for them.”
Ellie let out a loud, happy squeal and clapped her hands.
A few people smiled without meaning to.
Shanelle allowed herself the faintest breath of amusement before continuing.
“This kingdom has never sought conflict.”
She looked toward Marquise for a brief moment.
“But we will never again be unprepared for it.”
The room was completely still now.
Not shocked.
Not afraid.
Listening.
Shanelle straightened slightly, her voice returning to its firm, measured tone.
“Cordonia does not build power to threaten the world.”
She let the words hang for a beat.
“We build power to protect it.”
Silence again.
But this time…
It wasn’t heavy.
It was steady.
The room remained quiet for a moment after Shanelle finished speaking, the weight of her words settling differently than the silence that had followed the demonstration. Not fear this time. Not shock.
Understanding.
Marquise watched the room for a second longer, then stepped forward again, reclaiming the center of the dais with the same calm authority he had carried all morning.
He glanced toward Shanelle briefly, then toward the screen, then down at the small figure standing beside the throne.
Kylo was already looking up at him, helmet slightly crooked, Growlithe plushie clutched in one hand like it was part of the official equipment.
Marquise’s expression softened.
He crouched slightly beside him.
“You ready?”
Kylo nodded immediately.
Helmet on.
Growlithe plushie in hand.
Tiny fingers gripping Pyro like it was mission-critical equipment.
“My turn Daddy?”
Marquise smiled faintly.
“Yes, my love. It’s your turn. Go ahead. Don’t be afraid.”
Kylo straightened, lifting his chin.
“I not ‘fraid Daddy. I brave.”
A quiet ripple of amusement moved through the chamber as the three-year-old marched forward with all the seriousness of a commander walking onto a battlefield.
He stopped in front of the display, turned toward the screen, and pointed at the image of the orbital station still hovering above the planet.
“Dis. Dis my Kosmos.”
He looked back at the room, then at the screen again.
“My Daddy build it. Just for me.”
He hugged Pyro tighter under one arm.
“But I share wif my frens.”
He pointed upward again, his voice growing louder with excitement.
“Da sun.
Da moon.
Da stars.
And my family.”
He turned slightly toward the front row, spotting Shanelle, Khari, Zyon, and Ellie.
“And… and… da whole world!”
He grinned, proud of himself.
“I share wif everybody!”
Silence.
Then soft laughter.
Not mocking.
Not nervous.
Warm.
Marquise closed his eyes for half a second, shaking his head slightly before stepping forward again and resting a hand on Kylo’s shoulder.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice lighter now,
“I suspect my son has just said more in thirty seconds than I could in thirty minutes.”
The room laughed, tension finally breaking.
Marquise let the moment breathe before continuing.
“My son is my greatest motivation,” he said.
“His curiosity has now opened the door to a world filled with opportunities. That is why Cordonia stands among the titans of the world.”
He gestured gently toward Kylo.
“Children are naturally curious wanderers. Every parent knows that. They ask questions we cannot always answer. They reach for things we sometimes believe are too far. They look at the night sky and do not see distance… they see possibility.”
He paused, letting the words settle.
“And every child deserves to have someone willing to foster that curiosity.”
His voice deepened slightly.
“After all… we were all once children ourselves.”
He glanced toward Shanelle.
Toward Ellie in her arms.
Toward Khari.
Toward Zyon, who had finally taken his headphones off.
“As I stand here today… as both Monarch and parent… I am reminded of what Proverbs 22:6 teaches.”
His voice softened.
“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he shall not depart from it.”
He looked back at the room.
“I take that to heart.”
“I am training my children never to stop being curious.”
A breath.
“And in this case… to never stop reaching for the stars.”
The room was completely still again, but now the silence felt different.
Hopeful.
Grounded.
“Project Helios was not born of ambition,” he continued.
“It was born of wonder.”
“Wonder that asks, what else is possible?
Wonder that refuses to accept that humanity has reached its ceiling.”
He rested his hand lightly on Kylo’s shoulder.
“If my son can look at the cosmos and see something meant to be shared… then Cordonia can look at the future and build something meant to be protected.”
He lifted his head slightly, voice steady.
“Thank you for joining my son and I here today.”
It should have ended there.
It should have.
But then—
A small shift.
A soft sound.
The uncertain pat of tiny feet against the stone floor.
Shanelle looked down.
Ellie had leaned forward out of her arms, little hands reaching, determined, insistent.
Shanelle blinked in surprise, then instinctively lowered her.
“Careful—”
Ellie’s feet touched the floor.
She wobbled.
One step.
A few gasps rippled through the room.
Two.
Marquise turned mid-movement, his eyes catching the motion.
Three.
Kylo lifted his helmet slightly so he could see.
Four.
Khari clapped her hands, eyes wide.
Five.
Zyon shouted something completely unintelligible but very enthusiastic.
Six.
Ellie pitched forward slightly—
And Marquise moved without thinking, crossing the space in two long strides and catching her just before she toppled.
She grabbed a fistful of his suit jacket.
And laughed.
The room broke.
Not applause.
Not cheers.
Just the sound of people smiling without meaning to.
Marquise held her against his chest for a moment, looking down at her as she babbled happily, completely unaware that she had just stolen the end of the most important press conference in the kingdom’s history.
He looked up at the cameras, emotion just barely held behind his composure.
“Well,” he said softly into the microphone,
“It appears Cordonia is taking its first steps into the future.”
Laughter.
Warm. Real. Human.
And just like that—
Project Helios was no longer about power.
Not just about defense.
Not just about sovereignty.
It was about children walking forward.
And somewhere, far beyond the walls of the palace, unseen eyes watched the broadcast and understood something dangerous.
This kingdom was never stronger…than when it remembered why it was built in the first place.
The family dining room felt smaller at night.
Not physically smaller, of course. The walls had not moved, the table had not changed, and the same warm lights still glowed softly above the sideboard. But after a morning spent in the throne room announcing the single most ambitious advancement in Cordonia’s five-hundred-year history, the quiet intimacy of a smaller table, a familiar room, and a family dinner somehow made the palace feel human again.
It was exactly what they all needed.
The long day had worn the sharp edges off everyone, though not equally.
Marquise looked composed in the way he always did after public duty, but Shanelle could see the fatigue in the set of his shoulders and the way he sat a little heavier in his chair than usual. Khari was still alert, still curious, still trying to piece together everything she had seen that morning with the kind of intensity only an eight-year-old with too many questions could manage. Kylo was still wound up enough to power the palace himself, helmet abandoned only because Shanelle had finally taken it from him and set it on the console table before dinner. Zyon, by contrast, had reached that strange state children hit after a long day—half-tired, half-revived, and still capable of asking important questions about butterflies in between bites of bread.
Ellie was simply delighted to be included.
She sat in her high chair between Shanelle and Eleanor, smacking one hand on the tray with the kind of solemn joy reserved for babies who believed themselves to be central to every event in the room.
Which, to be fair, she usually was.
Dinner itself was simple by palace standards. Roasted chicken. Potatoes. Buttered green beans. Fresh rolls. A salad no one under the age of ten intended to touch. Tea for the adults. Milk and juice for the children. Nothing ceremonial. Nothing strategic. Nothing that required a speech.
Thank God.
Percy had arrived from Paris less than an hour earlier, just in time to change and make it downstairs before the first rolls were passed around. He looked tired from travel, but not in a way that dulled him. If anything, there was something steadier about him tonight, some quiet relief at being at the table rather than watching history from a hotel room an ocean away.
He had hugged Eleanor first in the doorway, long enough for even Khari to notice and smile about it, and then greeted the rest of the family with enough warmth that the room had settled almost immediately around him.
Now he sat beside Eleanor, jacket off, tie loosened slightly, a glass of tea near his hand, listening while Kylo tried to explain orbital sovereignty with the confidence of a man who had invented it himself.
“And then,” Kylo said, waving his fork dangerously close to his own face, “my Kosmos go up in da sky.”
“It’s already in the sky,” Khari corrected.
Kylo frowned at her.
“I know dat.”
“You just said it goes up.”
“It did go up.”
“It’s already there now.”
“That what I said.”
“That is not what you said.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it isn’t.”
Zyon, who had spent the last minute arranging peas in a loose circle on his plate, looked up.
“The star got eated.”
The room went quiet for a beat.
Then Percy laughed softly into his napkin.
Marquise, who had just lifted his glass, stopped halfway to his mouth and closed his eyes for one brief second.
“Eaten,” Khari corrected automatically.
Zyon shrugged.
“It got eated.”
“It got eaten,” she said again.
“It got gone,” Kylo offered helpfully.
“That,” Percy said, still laughing under his breath, “may actually be the most accurate explanation of what I watched this morning.”
Eleanor sat back slightly in her chair and looked at her son over the rim of her teacup.
“You do realize,” she said, “that you announced a sovereign orbital complex, a new national space agency, a forty-member scientific governing body, and a device capable of swallowing a star… and somehow your children remain most impressed that there were lights and a screen.”
Kylo lifted his hand immediately.
“And Pyro.”
“Yes,” Eleanor said dryly. “And Pyro.”
Shanelle smiled and tore a roll in half before buttering one piece and putting it on Marquise’s plate without asking. He barely looked down before taking a bite, which was how she knew he was more tired than he’d admit.
“It was a lot,” she said.
“That,” Percy replied, leaning back a little in his chair, “is one way to phrase it.”
He looked toward Marquise then, not teasing now, just honest.
“I watched the livestream in the car on the way from the airport in Paris. I knew it would be significant.” He shook his head once. “I did not realize it would be… that.”
Marquise finally drank from his glass and set it down.
“That,” he said evenly, “is also one way to phrase it.”
Khari looked from one adult to the other.
“You all keep saying ‘that’ like I’m just supposed to know what that means.”
“You saw it,” Eleanor said.
“I saw a giant space station and a star disappear.”
“Consumed,” Marquise corrected.
Khari turned to him.
“It looked disappeared.”
“Fair enough.”
Ellie chose that moment to throw a piece of potato off her tray and squeal at the result like she had personally solved something important. Margo, stationed discreetly nearby but mercifully off duty for the moment, caught it before it landed on the carpet.
“Thank you,” Shanelle said.
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”
Ellie slapped her tray again.
“Da!”
“Yes,” Eleanor told her. “You, too, are part of the conversation.”
Percy glanced toward the helmet on the console table, then back at Kylo.
“You were the star of the show, you know.”
Kylo perked up instantly.
“I was?”
“Oh yes,” Percy said. “You and your co-pilot.”
Kylo looked at Pyro, who had been set beside his plate with ceremonial importance.
“I told you,” he whispered to the plush.
Marquise huffed a laugh despite himself.
Shanelle noticed it, and her shoulders loosened by a fraction.
That was the thing about dinner. About family. About children with mashed potatoes on their cheeks and no concept of international consequences. Even after a day like today, even after what had been shown to the world, the room insisted on remaining ordinary.
Pride sat beside fatigue. History sat beside vegetables. The future of the kingdom had been discussed in the throne room that morning, and now Ellie was trying to feed a green bean to her cup.
It was absurd.
It was perfect.
Percy reached for another roll.
“So,” he said, glancing between Marquise and Shanelle, “I assume congratulations are in order. Though I imagine congratulations feel inadequate when the kingdom has effectively leapt fifty years into the future before lunch.”
“That depends,” Shanelle said lightly. “If the international press decides tomorrow that we terrified the entire civilized world, I may ask you to revise your wording.”
Eleanor made a quiet sound of agreement.
“She’s not exaggerating.”
“No,” Shanelle said, turning her glass slowly between her fingers. “I’m really not.”
There it was.
Not tension exactly, but the edge of it. The thing beneath the dinner, beneath the bread basket and the twins’ chatter and Ellie’s happy nonsense. The weight of what had actually happened.
Khari heard it too, even if she couldn’t name it.
“So did it go well?” she asked.
Every adult at the table paused.
Because that was the question, wasn’t it?
Marquise answered first.
“Yes.”
Shanelle looked at him.
Then added, “It did.”
Percy leaned one elbow lightly on the table.
“That sounded like two people choosing their words very carefully.”
“Because we are,” Shanelle said.
Kylo looked around at all of them, then stabbed a potato with great determination.
“It went good.”
Marquise turned toward him.
“It did.”
Kylo nodded, pleased to have been confirmed by the king.
Eleanor watched her son for another quiet moment before speaking.
“You know,” she said, “your father would have loved today.”
The table softened around those words.
Marquise did not answer immediately.
He looked down at his plate, then toward the console table where Kylo’s helmet sat under the warm light, then back at his mother.
“He would have hated the press coverage,” he said at last.
That earned the room a small, grateful laugh.
Eleanor smiled.
“Yes,” she said. “He would have. But he would have loved the rest of it.”
Marquise let that sit.
Shanelle reached under the table and brushed the back of his hand once. Just once. Enough.
Across from them, Zyon had stopped eating and was now staring at Percy.
Percy noticed.
“What?”
“You watched from Paris?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I was in Paris.”
“Why?”
Percy smiled faintly.
“For work.”
Zyon considered that.
Then: “Did Paris have butterflies?”
Khari groaned softly.
“Oh my God.”
“Yes,” Percy said with absolute seriousness. “I’m sure it does.”
Zyon accepted that answer immediately and resumed eating.
Kylo, not to be outdone, pointed his fork at Percy.
“Did Paris have stars?”
“Also yes.”
“Did they have space?”
“Technically, yes.”
Khari dropped her head into one hand.
“This is going to be a very long dinner.”
“It’s already been a very long day,” Marquise replied.
“And yet,” Eleanor said, buttering another piece of bread, “here we all are.”
There was affection in it. And exhaustion. And the quiet disbelief of people who understood, even if no one said it aloud, that they had just crossed some invisible threshold as a family and as a kingdom.
The room would never quite be the same again.
Neither would the world.
But for now, dinner went on.
Ellie laughed at her own reflection in her spoon.
Kylo insisted he needed another roll because “space makes you hungry.”
Zyon announced that butterflies probably liked lemonade.
Khari began reading the side of a sauce bottle because she was, apparently, her father’s child after all.
And while the world beyond the palace walls kept spinning—nervous, amazed, calculating—inside the family dining room, the King of Cordonia reached for the butter dish and asked his son to stop trying to feed mashed potatoes to a stuffed Growlithe.
It was, all things considered, a very good dinner.
The conversation drifted for a while after that, settling into the comfortable rhythm that only came when the day’s obligations were finally over. Plates emptied. Glasses refilled. Ellie grew progressively louder the more tired she became, which was always her way of announcing she had no intention of going to sleep any time soon.
It might have stayed like that if Percy hadn’t made the mistake of answering Marquise’s question honestly.
“So,” Marquise said, cutting into his chicken, “how long are you in Cordonia this time?”
Percy swallowed, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and answered without thinking.
“Not long. We leave in the morning.”
Silence.
Not the heavy kind from earlier.
The dangerous kind.
Kylo froze with a roll halfway to his mouth.
Zyon stopped chewing.
Khari looked up slowly.
Shanelle closed her eyes for one brief second.
Eleanor did not move at all.
Marquise looked from Percy… to the twins… and back again.
“…You leave in the morning,” he repeated carefully.
“Yes,” Percy said, immediately realizing what he had just done. “We’re flying out early.”
Kylo lowered the roll.
“Where you go?”
Eleanor smiled gently.
“We’re going on a trip, sweetheart.”
“Where?”
“To Greece.”
Both boys blinked at the same time.
“…What’s Greece?” Zyon asked.
Khari groaned.
“Oh boy.”
“It’s a country,” Shanelle said patiently.
“Why?”
Shanelle paused.
“…Because people go there.”
Kylo leaned forward.
“You live there now?”
“No,” Eleanor said. “We’re just visiting.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of weeks.”
Both boys froze again.
“A couple… what?” Kylo asked.
“Weeks,” Percy said.
Zyon frowned.
“How many that?”
Khari answered before anyone else could.
“Fourteen days.”
Both twins turned to her slowly.
“…That a lot,” Kylo said.
“It’s two whole weeks,” Zyon added, horrified.
Eleanor tried not to laugh.
“It’s not that long.”
“It is long,” Kylo said immediately.
“Very long,” Zyon agreed.
“Why you go so long?” Kylo demanded.
Percy opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Looked at Eleanor.
Eleanor looked at Shanelle.
Shanelle looked at Marquise.
Marquise looked at the ceiling like he had suddenly remembered he had important business elsewhere.
“We’re going on our honeymoon,” Eleanor said finally.
The twins stared.
“…Honey… moon?” Zyon said.
Kylo gasped.
“You go to the moon?!”
Khari burst out laughing.
“No! Oh my God, no—”
“We are not going to the moon,” Eleanor said, trying very hard not to lose control of the conversation.
Kylo looked relieved.
“Oh.”
Then suspicious again.
“Why you call it moon then?”
Percy tried.
“It’s just what it’s called.”
“That dumb,” Zyon said.
Marquise coughed to hide a laugh.
Shanelle bit the inside of her cheek.
Kylo leaned forward again, eyes narrowing in serious investigation mode.
“You go far?”
“Yes,” Percy said.
“You go plane?”
“Yes.”
“You go long plane?”
“Yes.”
“You come back?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In two weeks.”
“That still long.”
“Yes,” Percy admitted.
Zyon leaned closer.
“You sleep there?”
“Yes.”
“You eat there?”
“Yes.”
“You have toys there?”
Percy blinked.
“…Probably not.”
Both twins looked offended.
“Why not?” Kylo demanded.
“Because it’s a honeymoon, not a toy store,” Khari said.
“That dumb,” Zyon said again.
Eleanor finally laughed.
“We’ll survive, I promise.”
Kylo sat very still for a moment, thinking.
Then, without warning, he climbed down from his chair.
Shanelle straightened slightly.
“Kylo—”
He ignored her completely and walked around the table with all the seriousness of a tiny general approaching a briefing.
He stopped in front of Percy.
Percy looked down at him, confused.
Kylo crossed his arms.
“You bring her back. Got it?”
Percy blinked.
“…Got it?”
“Kylo…” his mother warned softly.
Percy lifted a hand slightly toward her, smiling.
“No, it’s alright.”
He looked back at the small, very serious face in front of him.
“Yes, Your Highness,” he said solemnly.
“I got it. I will bring her back.”
Kylo squinted.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Percy said, trying not to laugh. “I’m sure.”
Kylo studied him for another long second, then nodded once, satisfied.
He turned to Eleanor.
“You come back?”
Eleanor’s expression softened immediately.
“Yes, my dear. I will come back.”
“Promise?”
She reached down and scooped him up into a hug, holding him close for a moment longer than she probably meant to.
“I promise,” she said quietly.
“I will always come home to you.”
Her eyes lifted briefly over Kylo’s shoulder, meeting Marquise’s across the table.
“Always.”
Marquise held her gaze for a second, then nodded once.
Kylo leaned back.
“Okay.”
She set him down, and he marched back toward his chair like the matter had been properly resolved.
Zyon watched him the entire time.
Then, clearly deciding he had business to attend to, he climbed down from his seat too.
“Oh no,” Khari muttered. “Round two.”
Zyon walked over, stopping in front of Percy first.
He looked up at him.
Then hugged his leg.
Percy froze, then laughed softly and rested a hand on his head.
Zyon let go and turned to Eleanor, who was already leaning down to pick him up.
He wrapped his arms around her neck.
“Have fun, Grandmother,” he said very seriously.
“You bring us gifts. Like last time.”
Eleanor kissed his forehead.
“I will bring you back a gift, my darling.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
He nodded, satisfied.
“Okay.”
He kissed her cheek loudly.
“Love you.”
“I love you too.”
She set him back down, and he returned to his seat as if the entire conversation had been a formal negotiation that had now concluded successfully.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Marquise leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly.
“We should never have told them.”
Shanelle smirked.
“You’re the one who said honesty builds character.”
“Yes,” he said. “I regret that now.”
Morning came quietly to the palace.
The kind of quiet that only lasted a few minutes before children remembered they existed.
The front entrance hall was already alive with movement, though the hour was still early. A pair of attendants moved luggage toward the waiting motorcade outside, the low murmur of voices echoing faintly off the high stone walls as the doors opened and closed in steady rhythm.
Eleanor stood near the base of the staircase, gloves in one hand, coat draped over her arm, looking every bit like a woman leaving for a holiday she very much intended to enjoy… even if the goodbye part never got any easier.
Percy stood beside her, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone as he finished replying to a message before slipping it away again. He looked relaxed, but there was a patience to the way he stood, like he knew better than to rush this part.
Because the children were not making it easy.
Khari was the first to come down the stairs, already dressed for school, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She stopped a few steps from Eleanor and smiled, trying very hard to look grown-up about the whole thing.
“So you’re really going to Greece,” she said.
“We really are,” Eleanor replied.
Khari nodded.
“Well… have a great time. And take pictures. And don’t forget to bring something back for the twins or they’ll never forgive you.”
Eleanor laughed softly and pulled her into a quick hug.
“I will bring something back for all of you.”
Khari hugged her back tightly, then stepped aside just as the sound of smaller feet came thundering down the hallway.
Kylo appeared first, Pyro clutched tightly against his chest, helmet thankfully not included this morning but clearly missed. His face was already set in that serious expression he used whenever something important was happening.
Right behind him came Zyon, holding his Eevee plushie Toby with both arms like he was personally responsible for its safety.
They stopped a few feet away.
Neither of them spoke at first.
Eleanor’s smile softened immediately.
“Oh, my boys…”
Kylo looked at the floor.
“You go now?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“For long time?”
“Not too long.”
Zyon hugged Toby tighter.
“You still come back?”
“Yes,” she said gently. “I still come back.”
They both stepped forward at the same time, and she crouched slightly to meet them halfway, wrapping her arms around both of them as best she could.
Kylo pressed his face into her shoulder.
“You have big fun,” he muttered.
“I will,” she said softly.
Zyon patted her arm very seriously.
“And bring gifts.”
Eleanor laughed quietly and kissed his forehead.
“I will bring gifts.”
She kissed Kylo’s forehead next, then his cheek, then Zyon’s again for good measure before letting them go.
“Take care of your father while I’m gone.”
Kylo nodded like he had just been given a royal assignment.
“I do that.”
Zyon nodded too.
“We watch him.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Ellie chose that moment to start babbling loudly from Shanelle’s arms, reaching toward Eleanor with both hands like she had just remembered she was part of this goodbye too.
Eleanor turned immediately.
“And you, little one.”
She stepped closer, cupping Ellie’s cheek before pressing a gentle kiss to it.
“I expect you to take at least three steps before I get back.”
Ellie squealed in response.
“Ba!”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I said.”
Shanelle smiled faintly, adjusting Ellie on her hip.
“We’ll send you a video if she does.”
“You’d better.”
Eleanor straightened, then turned.
Marquise was leaning against the wall near the doorway, arms crossed loosely, watching the whole thing with that quiet expression he always had when he was trying very hard not to make a moment bigger than it already was.
She walked over to him.
Even in heels, she barely reached his shoulder.
She looked up at him, squinting slightly.
“You could have stopped growing at six feet,” she said.
He smirked faintly.
“Don’t blame me. It’s not my fault I’m this tall. Your oldest brother is six-three, and your father was six-four.”
“That doesn’t mean you had to outdo all of them.”
“I didn’t try. It just happened.”
She shook her head, then reached up and kissed his cheek.
“I’ll be home as soon as possible,” she said quietly. “So you don’t worry.”
He looked down at her, the teasing gone now.
He answered in French, his voice low.
« Je t’aime. Profite de ton voyage. »
(I love you. Enjoy your trip.)
Her eyes softened immediately.
She answered in the same language.
« Je t’aime aussi, mon fils. »
(I love you too, my son.)
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Percy cleared his throat lightly behind them.
“Well,” he said, glancing toward the twins, who were both watching like this was the most serious thing they had ever seen, “we should probably go before the boys change their minds and revoke my travel clearance.”
Kylo’s head snapped up.
“I can do that.”
Percy laughed.
“That’s exactly why we’re leaving now.”
He picked up Eleanor’s bag, nodded once to Marquise and Shanelle, then looked down at the twins.
“I’ll bring her back,” he said.
Kylo narrowed his eyes.
“You better.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zyon waved Toby at him.
“And gifts.”
“And gifts,” Percy agreed.
Eleanor gave the boys one last kiss each, then turned toward the door with Percy beside her as the attendants opened it.
Cold November air slipped into the hall.
For a moment, the whole family stood there watching as they walked toward the waiting car.
Kylo hugged Pyro tighter.
Zyon leaned against Khari.
Ellie babbled.
Marquise said nothing.
The door closed.
And just like that, the palace felt a little quieter.
The flight to Santorini was short.
Two hours in the air, just long enough for the tension of the morning to fade and the quiet to settle in. Private travel always had a strange way of making distance feel smaller than it was, and by the time the aircraft began its descent, the world below them had already turned from gray autumn coastline to bright blue water and white stone cliffs that seemed to rise straight out of the sea.
Eleanor looked out the window as the plane banked gently, her hand resting lightly against the armrest, her expression softer than it had been all morning.
Santorini stretched beneath them like something painted instead of built. White buildings stacked against the hillsides, sunlight flashing off the water, narrow roads winding along the cliffs in ways that looked impossible until you were close enough to see the cars moving along them.
Percy glanced at her, then out the window.
“Well,” he said quietly, “this already beats Paris traffic.”
She smiled faintly.
“That’s a very low bar.”
“Still counts.”
The plane touched down smoothly, the engines slowing as they rolled along the small runway, the bright afternoon sun spilling through the windows in a way that felt almost unreal after the colder light of Cordonia.
By the time they stepped out onto the tarmac, the air felt completely different.
Warm.
Salted by the sea.
Alive.
Eleanor took a slow breath as the breeze caught the edge of her coat.
“Oh… that’s nice.”
Percy laughed under his breath.
“That’s the official royal review?”
“That’s the official royal review.”
A car was already waiting for them near the edge of the runway, the driver stepping forward the moment he saw them approach.
“Your Majesties. Welcome to Santorini.”
Percy smiled.
“Thank you.”
The drive to the villa took less than thirty minutes, the road winding higher along the cliffs until the view of the Mediterranean opened wide enough to make even Percy fall quiet.
White walls.
Blue domes.
Endless water.
When the car finally turned through a set of wrought-iron gates and rolled to a stop in front of the villa, Eleanor blinked once, then twice.
“This is… ours?”
Percy got out first, looking up at the house with a slow whistle.
“If this isn’t, I’d like to know whose it is.”
The villa sat high above the water, built in clean white stone with wide terraces and tall windows that faced the sea like the whole place had been designed just to watch the horizon. Bougainvillea climbed along the walls, bright against the white, and the sound of the waves below carried faintly up the hillside.
A small plaque near the door read:
Rys International — Private Property
Eleanor laughed softly.
“Of course she put us in one of hers.”
Percy shook his head.
“She wasn’t going to put you in a hotel.”
“She owns the hotels.”
“Exactly.”
The door had already been unlocked for them. Inside, the air was cool and bright, the windows open just enough to let the breeze move through the rooms. The place was larger than either of them expected, the open living area leading straight to a terrace that overlooked the water in a way that made the entire horizon feel like part of the room.
Four bedrooms.
Four bathrooms.
High ceilings.
Stone floors.
Soft light everywhere.
Eleanor stepped inside slowly, turning once in place.
“This is ridiculous.”
Percy set their bags down near the couch.
“I’m not complaining.”
On the kitchen counter sat a large basket filled with fruit, wine, bread, and a small box tied with a ribbon. A folded card rested on top, written in careful, familiar handwriting.
Eleanor picked it up.
She didn’t even have to open it to know who it was from.
She smiled as she read.
Welcome to Santorini.
Try not to think about Cordonia for at least twenty-four hours.
You’ve earned this.
— Shanelle
Eleanor shook her head, laughing quietly.
“She put a time limit on relaxing.”
Percy leaned against the counter.
“That sounds like her.”
She set the card down, looking out through the open doors toward the water.
For the first time since they left the palace, she let her shoulders drop.
This Is Part 2 Of Chapter 13 Of Eternity. This Is Hinge.
Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations
His voice stayed low, steady, the way it always did when he came down here.
“You would’ve loved it. Your brothers drove go-karts like they owned the place. Khari kept score like it was a championship match. Your grandmother cheered louder than anyone. And your mother…” He smiled faintly. “Your mother pretended she wasn’t enjoying it, but she was.”
He rested his hand against the stone.
“They turned three today.”
He swallowed once, his voice quieter now.
“You would’ve been nine.”
The silence stretched, heavy but not empty.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
Soft.
Careful.
He didn’t turn right away.
He already knew who it was.
“You followed me here,” he said quietly.
Shanelle stopped a few steps behind him, her arms folded loosely around herself as she looked around the crypt, her eyes lingering on places she hadn’t let herself look at in years.
“I never thought I would come back here,” she whispered.
“Not any time soon anyway.”
Marquise turned then, reaching for her without hesitation and pulling her close, one arm wrapping around her shoulders as she leaned into him.
“I did,” he said softly.
“I knew that with enough time… you’d make the decision to come back.”
His hand moved slowly up and down her back, steady, patient.
“I’m proud of you.”
She let out a small breath against his chest.
“For finally deciding not to be a coward and come see him?”
He shook his head.
“For being as strong as you’ve been all these years.”
She didn’t answer right away.
Her eyes drifted past him, settling on the marker, her vision already beginning to blur.
“He would’ve been nine this year.”
“Yes,” Marquise said quietly.
“He would have. And he would’ve celebrated his little brothers. Just like we did.”
Shanelle closed her eyes, her mouth tightening as she fought the tears.
“He should be here,” she whispered.
“With us. With them. It’s not fair.”
“No,” he said softly.
“It isn’t.”
His arm tightened around her slightly.
“But we are blessed to have our children alive and well. Our boys are three… and ready to tear through the halls like they own the palace.”
A faint, shaky laugh escaped her.
“Technically they do. Just like you and your brother did.”
Marquise huffed quietly.
“Don’t tell Khari that.”
He glanced toward the corridor behind them.
“She’ll stage a coup.”
Shanelle sniffed, wiping at her eyes as she leaned against him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The crypt was silent again, the kind of silence that didn’t feel lonely anymore.
Marquise looked back at the stone one last time, his hand resting against it.
“Goodnight, Levi.”
Shanelle reached out too, her fingers brushing the engraving lightly.
“Happy birthday to your brothers,” she whispered.
Then she stepped back.
Marquise took her hand.
And together, they turned and walked out of the crypt, the door closing softly behind them.
Friday, November 7th, 2025.
The morning air carried the sharp, clean chill that only came in early November, the kind that lingered just long enough to remind everyone that autumn was nearly finished but winter had not yet arrived. The sky above Duchy Rosenwald was clear and pale, sunlight stretching across the rolling hills southwest of the capital as the royal motorcade wound its way through the long tree-lined drive that led toward the gardens.
Even from a distance, the glass conservatory could be seen rising above the grounds, its curved panels catching the light like crystal set in the middle of the estate. Beyond it, the Rosenwald Gardens spread across the hillside in careful terraces of late-blooming flowers, stone paths, and tall iron arches wrapped in ivy that had long since begun to turn gold.
The motorcade slowed as it reached the front circle, the sound of engines fading beneath the murmur of the gathered crowd. Nobles, local families, invited guests, and members of the press stood behind the velvet barriers, their voices low with anticipation as the royal vehicles came to a stop one by one.
The first door opened, and the guards stepped aside.
Marquise emerged first, adjusting the front of his coat as he looked out across the gardens, his eyes taking in the conservatory, the terraces, and the crowd gathered along the drive.
He nodded once, satisfied.
“It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be,” he said quietly.
Shanelle stepped out beside him, Ellie balanced on her hip beneath a small coat, the little girl immediately reaching for the sunlight like she could grab it.
Behind them, Khari climbed out of the next car, smoothing her coat before looking up at the conservatory.
“Oh wow…”
Kylo jumped out right after her, nearly tripping over the step before catching himself.
“Big building!”
Zyon followed more carefully, his eyes already fixed on the gardens beyond the drive, his head turning slowly as if he didn’t know where to look first.
“So many flowers…”
Marquise noticed immediately, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
“You haven’t even seen the inside yet.”
Zyon didn’t answer, too busy staring at the glass structure like it might start moving if he blinked.
Ellie squealed and clapped her hands.
“Ah!”
From the far side of the drive, two figures stepped forward as the guards opened the path.
Duke Gerard Delacroix walked first, tall, composed, his dark coat marked with the crest of Rosenwald at the shoulder. Beside him, Duchess Liliana Rosenwald-Delacroix moved with the quiet confidence of someone standing on land that had belonged to her family longer than most kingdoms had existed.
The gardens behind them were her inheritance.
Ten generations of it.
Liliana smiled as the royal family approached, dipping into a graceful curtsy while Gerard bowed deeply.
“Your Majesties,” Gerard said, his voice warm despite the formality. “Welcome to Rosenwald.”
Marquise extended his hand first, clasping the Duke’s firmly.
“It’s good to be back, Gerard.”
He turned to Liliana, his expression softening slightly.
“And you’ve outdone yourself again.”
Liliana inclined her head, her eyes moving briefly toward the conservatory before returning to him.
“The gardens have been waiting for this day for a long time, Your Majesty. My family has cared for this land for ten generations…but today, it belongs to Cordonia.”
Shanelle smiled at that, shifting Ellie slightly as the little girl leaned toward the Duchess’s brooch.
“She likes you already,” Shanelle said.
Liliana laughed softly.
“I’ll take that as a good sign.”
Khari stepped forward next, offering a polite greeting, while Kylo and Zyon hovered just behind their parents, both of them staring openly now at the glass structure rising above the trees.
Zyon tugged on Marquise’s sleeve.
“Daddy…”
“Yes?”
He pointed.
“Butterflies in there?”
Marquise followed his gaze, then looked back down at him.
“Yes,” he said.
“All of them.”
Zyon’s eyes widened like he had just been told the stars were inside.
Kylo grabbed his other hand.
“We go now?”
Marquise huffed a quiet laugh.
“In a minute.”
Ellie bounced in Shanelle’s arms, waving both hands toward the gardens.
“Ah! Ah!”
Gerard smiled, stepping aside and gesturing toward the path that led up the terrace.
“The guests are gathered inside the main hall,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready, Your Majesty, we can begin the ceremony.”
Marquise looked once more toward the conservatory, the sunlight glinting off the glass, the banners of Cordonia and Rosenwald hanging side by side along the stone walls.
He rested a hand briefly on Zyon’s shoulder.
“Let’s go open your sanctuary.”
Zyon beamed.
And together, the royal family started up the path toward the gardens, the crowd parting as they passed, the sound of applause rising slowly into the cold November air.
The small platform at the front of the gardens had been set just below the entrance to the conservatory, the glass structure rising behind it like something grown from the earth itself. Guests gathered along the terrace, the quiet murmur of conversation fading as the royal family took their places, the banners of Cordonia and Rosenwald moving gently in the November breeze.
Marquise stepped forward, resting his hands lightly on the sides of the podium as he looked out across the crowd.
For a moment, he didn’t speak.
He let the silence settle first.
Then he smiled.
“Good morning.”
A soft ripple of laughter moved through the guests, the formality easing almost immediately.
“It’s not often that I have the pleasure of opening something that doesn’t involve a council vote, a budget meeting, or a very long report that someone insists I should read twice,” he continued, glancing briefly toward Gerard and Liliana. “So today is already off to a good start.”
More laughter followed, light and easy.
He turned slightly, looking back at the conservatory behind him before facing the crowd again.
“Today we open the Shomari Butterfly Sanctuary, here in the Rosenwald Gardens, a place that has been cared for by the Rosenwald family for ten generations. Long before this was a ceremony, long before it was a project, and long before it was an idea in my mind, this land was being tended, protected, and preserved.”
He nodded toward Liliana.
“And that matters more than most people realize.”
His expression grew more thoughtful as he continued.
“We live in a world that moves very fast. Faster every year. Faster every generation. We build cities, we build machines, we build things that reach higher and farther than anyone before us could have imagined. And in all of that movement… it is easy to forget that the land beneath our feet is not something we created.”
He paused, letting the words sit.
“It was given to us.”
The breeze stirred the banners again, the sound of the conservatory glass faint behind him.
“And anything that is given,” he said quietly, “comes with a responsibility.”
He rested one hand on the edge of the podium, then looked down briefly before smiling again, softer this time.
“This sanctuary is named Shomari… after my son.”
Zyon froze beside Shanelle, his eyes going wide as several people in the crowd turned toward him with quiet smiles.
Marquise glanced at him, the pride in his face impossible to miss.
“Zyon Shomari Rys,” he said. “My second son. A boy who has never walked past a garden without stopping, never seen a butterfly without chasing it, and never come home without at least one leaf in his pocket.”
A few people laughed.
Shanelle shook her head slightly, smiling.
Marquise continued.
“When he was small, he would ask me why the flowers needed watering. Why the trees needed trimming. Why the gardens had to be taken care of every day.”
He looked back at the crowd.
“And the only answer I could give him was the simplest one.”
“Because if we don’t take care of what we’ve been given… we lose it.”
He let that sit for a moment before going on.
“This sanctuary is my way of honoring that curiosity. Not only his, but the curiosity that lives in every child. The instinct to explore, to ask questions, to look at the world and wonder how it works.”
His gaze moved briefly toward Kylo, who was standing beside Khari, trying very hard to stay still.
“And in our family, that curiosity comes in many forms.”
A few more smiles from the crowd.
“One son looks at the sky and wants to know what lies beyond it. Another looks at the earth and wants to know what lives in it. Both questions matter. Both deserve answers. And both deserve a world that is still worth exploring when they grow up.”
His voice grew steadier, stronger now.
“We cannot speak about the future without speaking about the land we stand on today. We cannot dream about tomorrow if we neglect what we have been trusted with now. The forests, the rivers, the fields, the gardens… these are not things we own.”
“They are things we care for.”
He looked again at the conservatory behind him, the sunlight shining through the glass.
“This sanctuary will protect more than thirty species of butterflies, along with the plants and habitats they depend on. It will welcome children, families, students, and visitors from across Cordonia and beyond. It will remind us that growth takes patience, that life is fragile, and that beauty often survives because someone chose to protect it.”
He rested both hands on the podium again.
“And if there is one thing I hope my children learn… it is that the world does not belong to us simply because we were born into it.”
“It belongs to those who care enough to tend it.”
He smiled again, the warmth returning.
“So today, as both King and father, I am honored to open the Shomari Butterfly Sanctuary. May it stand for generations to come. May it remind us to look after what we have been given. And may every child who walks through these gardens leave with the same sense of wonder that inspired its name.”
He stepped back slightly and held out his hand toward Zyon.
“Would you like to help me open it?”
Zyon’s face lit up instantly.
“Yes.”
The crowd laughed softly as he hurried forward, Shanelle guiding him gently toward the ribbon stretched across the entrance.
Marquise placed the small ceremonial scissors in his hand, covering it with his own.
“Ready?”
Zyon nodded hard.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s open it.”
Together, they cut the ribbon, and the crowd broke into applause as the doors to the conservatory opened behind them, warm air drifting out into the cool November morning, carrying with it the first flutter of wings.
The doors to the conservatory opened slowly, and the first thing that met them was warmth.
Not the heavy heat of summer, but a soft, living warmth, the kind that carried the scent of damp earth, flowers, and green leaves. The glass ceiling arched high overhead, sunlight pouring through the curved panels and scattering across the stone paths that wound through the sanctuary like narrow garden roads.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Even the crowd behind them quieted as they stepped inside.
Then something small and bright fluttered past Zyon’s face.
He gasped.
“Daddy…”
Marquise looked down.
“What is it?”
Zyon pointed, his eyes wide as the butterfly drifted toward a cluster of flowers near the path.
“Butterfly…”
Another one passed overhead.
Then another.
And another.
Within seconds, the air itself seemed to move, wings catching the light in flashes of gold, blue, orange, and white as dozens of butterflies floated between the plants, the glass, and the visitors walking slowly through the garden.
Zyon stopped walking completely.
His mouth fell open.
“So many…”
Kylo stepped beside him, turning in a slow circle.
“They everywhere.”
Khari laughed softly behind them.
“I told you there were a lot.”
Ellie squealed from Shanelle’s arms, reaching both hands toward the air as a bright yellow butterfly drifted close enough to make her grab for it.
“Ah! Ah!”
Shanelle pulled her back gently.
“No grabbing.”
“She thinks she can catch them,” Marquise said.
“She thinks she can catch everything,” Shanelle replied.
Zyon took one careful step forward, like he was afraid the butterflies might disappear if he moved too fast.
One landed on a leaf just beside the path.
He crouched slowly, staring at it with complete, silent concentration.
Marquise stopped walking too, watching him.
The rest of the guests moved around them, voices low, footsteps soft against the stone, but for Zyon the world had narrowed to the single butterfly sitting on the edge of the leaf.
“It not scared,” he whispered.
“No,” Marquise said quietly. “It’s not.”
Zyon leaned closer, his hands clasped behind his back like he had seen the gardeners do.
“It stayin’.”
“It likes the flowers,” Marquise told him.
Zyon looked up at him.
“They live here?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
Zyon’s face lit up like the answer had just confirmed something very important.
“This my sanctuary.”
Marquise smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.”
Kylo tugged on his sleeve.
“Daddy, look!”
He pointed toward the far side of the conservatory where a cluster of blue butterflies lifted into the air all at once, their wings catching the sunlight like pieces of glass.
“They flying together!”
Khari walked ahead a few steps, reading one of the plaques near the path.
“It says there are more than thirty species in here,” she said. “From different parts of the world.”
Kylo blinked.
“They came here?”
“Yes,” she said. “So people can see them.”
Zyon looked around again, turning slowly as another butterfly drifted past his shoulder.
He held perfectly still.
One landed on his sleeve.
He froze.
“…Daddy.”
Marquise leaned down.
“What?”
Zyon whispered like he was afraid to scare it.
“It pick me.”
Marquise laughed softly under his breath.
“I think it did.”
Shanelle stepped closer, smiling as she watched the tiny wings move against his coat.
“You can’t move,” she said quietly.
“I not moving.”
“You can’t breathe too loud either.”
He sucked in a very careful breath.
Kylo leaned closer.
“It like you.”
Zyon nodded, completely serious.
“I told you.”
Ellie squealed again, kicking her feet as she watched the butterflies fly overhead.
Margo laughed.
“She wants one.”
“She’s not getting one,” Eleanor said.
The path curved deeper into the conservatory, the plants growing thicker, taller, the air warmer as they moved farther inside. Small fountains trickled between the beds of flowers, the sound of water mixing with the soft flutter of wings.
Marquise slowed his steps, letting the others walk ahead for a moment as he watched Zyon move from one plant to the next, his head turning constantly, his eyes never still.
Shanelle noticed.
“You did this for him,” she said quietly.
Marquise shook his head.
“I did this because of him.”
Zyon ran a few steps ahead, stopping again when another butterfly passed close to his face.
He laughed, the sound bright and completely unguarded.
“Hi!”
The butterfly drifted past him and landed on a flower.
He looked back at his parents, grinning like he had just discovered the best secret in the world.
“Daddy…they happy here.”
Marquise’s expression softened.
“Yes,” he said.
“They are.”
Zyon nodded, satisfied, and turned back toward the garden, already chasing the next flutter of color as the tour continued deeper into the sanctuary, the sound of his laughter echoing lightly beneath the glass ceiling.
By the time the tour finally wound its way back toward the entrance of the conservatory, the children had lost all sense of ceremony and were moving in every direction at once.
Kylo had tried to count how many butterflies he had seen and given up somewhere around twelve.
Zyon was determined to see all of them.
Khari had read every plaque she could reach before the twins dragged her to the next path.
Ellie had spent most of the tour squealing every time something with wings passed within arm’s reach.
Even the adults had stopped pretending they weren’t enjoying themselves.
When the doors opened again and the cool November air met them outside, the shift in temperature made everyone slow down at once, the warmth of the conservatory fading behind them as the sound of quiet conversation returned.
The terrace below the gardens had been set for lunch, long tables arranged beneath white canopies to keep the chill from settling too heavily. The setting was far less formal than the ceremony, the place settings simple, the atmosphere relaxed, as if the entire gathering had decided at once that the official part of the day was finished.
Zyon ran ahead the moment he saw the tables.
“Food!”
Kylo followed immediately.
“I hungry!”
“You’re always hungry,” Khari said, catching up to them before either of them could grab anything they weren’t supposed to.
Marquise walked beside Shanelle, his hands in his coat pockets, watching the children with the faintest hint of a smile.
“They ran that entire tour,” he said.
“They ran the entire morning,” she replied.
“They ran the entire year.”
“That too.”
Ellie bounced in Shanelle’s arms, reaching toward the tables as if she had personally organized the meal.
“Ah! Ah!”
“Yes,” Shanelle said. “Lunch.”
Duke Gerard stepped forward as they reached the terrace, gesturing toward the tables with a small smile.
“We kept it light, Your Majesty. After the tour, we thought something simple would be best.”
Marquise nodded approvingly as he looked over the spread.
Sandwiches arranged in neat rows, small plates of salads, bowls of fruit, and trays of desserts set at the center of the tables. Pitchers of lemonade and tea caught the sunlight, the glass shining against the white cloth.
“This looks perfect,” he said. “If you had served a full banquet after that tour, half the room would’ve fallen asleep.”
Liliana laughed softly.
“We’ve learned over the years that gardens are better enjoyed when no one is too full to walk through them.”
Eleanor settled into one of the chairs, Ellie in her lap, already reaching for a napkin.
“She’s earned this,” Eleanor said. “She cheered louder than anyone in there.”
Margo poured a glass of tea, smiling.
“She thinks the butterflies were there for her.”
“They probably were,” Shanelle said.
Kylo climbed into his chair and immediately reached for a sandwich.
“I saw the blue one.”
Zyon grabbed one too.
“I saw the yellow one.”
“I saw both,” Khari said.
“You always see both,” Kylo replied.
Marquise sat down at the head of the table, finally relaxing for the first time since the motorcade had arrived.
He picked up his glass, taking a slow sip of tea before looking out across the gardens, the conservatory rising behind the terrace, sunlight still shining through the glass.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Shanelle noticed.
“You’re quiet,” she said softly.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s always dangerous.”
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“They’re happy,” he said, nodding toward the children.
Zyon was talking with his hands, trying to explain something about a butterfly to Callie and Luca while Kylo interrupted every few seconds.
Khari was correcting both of them.
Ellie was banging her spoon on the table again.
“Yes,” Shanelle said.
“They are.”
Marquise watched them for another moment before speaking again, his voice lower now.
“Yesterday we celebrated their birthday.”
She nodded.
“Last night we remembered Levi.”
He didn’t look at her, but his hand rested on the table near hers.
“And today,” he said, glancing toward the gardens, “we opened a sanctuary.”
Shanelle followed his gaze, the glass walls of the conservatory glowing in the afternoon light.
“For Zyon,” she said.
“For all of them.”
He leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling slowly.
“Yesterday we looked back,” he said quietly.
“Today we look around.”
She turned her head toward him.
“And tomorrow?” she asked.
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he looked up toward the sky beyond the gardens.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we look up.”
Shanelle smiled faintly, her fingers brushing his under the table for just a second before she pulled her hand back.
Kylo shouted from the other end of the table.
“Daddy! Can we come back here again?!”
Marquise looked at him, the seriousness gone from his face as quickly as it had come.
“Yes,” he said.
Zyon grinned.
“This my sanctuary.”
Marquise smiled.
“Yes,” he replied.
“It is.”
Saturday, November 8th, 2025.
The palace was quiet in a way it rarely was.
Before sunrise, before the staff began moving through the halls, before the children woke and filled the rooms with noise, the stone corridors held the kind of stillness that only came in the early hours of the morning. Outside the tall windows, the sky was just beginning to lighten, the faint gray of dawn settling over the capital as the first cold breath of November pressed against the glass.
Marquise had been awake for hours.
He stood alone in his office, the lights low, one hand resting against the edge of his desk as he looked down at the reports spread in front of him. Numbers, schematics, schedules, security briefings, international communications — the kind of paperwork that never ended, no matter how close the moment finally came.
Today wasn’t just another announcement.
Today was the day Cordonia stepped into something none of its kings had ever imagined.
Project Helios.
Kylo’s Kosmos.
And the Cordonian Agency for Space and Astronautics or CASA for short.
He exhaled slowly, straightening one of the pages even though he had already read it twice.
If this went right, Cordonia would move forward decades in a single morning.
If it went wrong…
He didn’t finish the thought.
The door behind him opened softly.
He didn’t turn right away.
He already knew who it was.
Shanelle stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her, a robe wrapped loosely around her shoulders, her hair still pulled back from the night before. She stopped just inside the room, watching him for a moment before speaking.
“You’ve been up all night.”
Marquise let out a small breath.
“Not all night.”
She raised one brow.
“Most of it.”
He turned then, leaning back against the desk as she walked closer.
“You should be sleeping,” he said.
“So should you.”
He didn’t argue.
She stepped beside him, looking down at the reports without touching them.
“Today’s the day,” she said.
“Yes.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Outside, the sky grew a little brighter.
Shanelle rested her hands on the desk, her expression thoughtful as she scanned the top page.
“You checked the launch windows twice,” she said.
“Three times.”
“The international feeds?”
“Confirmed.”
“The Brain Trust?”
“All present.”
She nodded once.
“And security?”
“Tight.”
She looked up at him then, her eyes steady.
“You’re nervous.”
He almost smiled.
“I’m responsible.”
“You always are.”
He shook his head slightly.
“This is different.”
She didn’t argue with that.
Because it was.
Yesterday, they had opened the butterfly sanctuary.
The day before that, they had celebrated their sons’ birthday.
Simple things.
Family things.
Things that made the palace feel like a home instead of a seat of power.
Today…
Today they were announcing something that could change the balance of the world.
“This started because of them,” he said quietly.
Shanelle followed his gaze toward the window, where the first light of morning was breaking over the city.
“The sanctuary,” she said.
“And Helios,” he replied.
She looked back at him.
“You really are giving them the world for their birthday.”
He huffed softly.
“One gets the earth,” he said.
“One gets the stars.”
“And both of them got the idea from their father.”
He shook his head.
“No,” he said.
“They got it from us.”
That made her smile.
Because she knew it was true.
She had been there for every meeting.
Every argument.
Every vote.
Every moment the project nearly stopped before it began.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly.
“You know they’re going to talk about this all day,” she said.
“They always do.”
“The press.”
“The council.”
“The rest of the world.”
He nodded.
“And the arms race,” he said quietly.
She didn’t flinch at the words.
Because they both knew it already.
If Helios worked…
Cordonia wouldn’t just be respected.
It would be watched.
Closely.
The silence stretched for a moment longer.
Then—
The door burst open.
“Daddy!”
Marquise closed his eyes.
Right on time.
Kylo ran into the room at full speed, wearing his oversized Supernova space helmet, the visor pushed up just enough for his face to be visible, his stuffed Growlithe clutched tightly in one arm.
“I ready!”
Marquise stared at him.
“…For what.”
“For space.”
Shanelle laughed under her breath.
“You told him today was important.”
“I did not say space important.”
Kylo climbed onto the chair like he owned the place, holding Pyro up proudly.
“He my co-pilot.”
“Of course he is.”
Zyon appeared in the doorway next, still half asleep, rubbing one eye.
“Why he got helmet…”
Kylo turned toward him.
“We go to stars.”
Zyon blinked.
“…Okay.”
Shanelle covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Marquise looked at his son, then at the helmet, then at the stack of reports on the desk.
For the first time that morning, the tension in his shoulders eased.
He reached out and adjusted the helmet slightly so Kylo could see.
“You’re staying with me today,” he said.
Kylo nodded hard.
“Yes.”
“You stand next to me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t press anything.”
“…maybe.”
“No maybe.”
“Yes Daddy.”
Shanelle folded her arms, smiling as she watched them.
“You realize,” she said, “he’s going to steal the entire show.”
Marquise looked at Kylo, then at her.
“…Good.”
He picked up the top report and closed the folder.
“Let him.”
He straightened his coat, the weight of the morning settling back into place, but not as heavy as before.
“Come on,” he said.
“It’s time.”
And outside the office, the palace was already beginning to wake.
By the time the rest of the palace had fully woken, the quiet of the early morning had given way to the familiar rhythm of footsteps, voices, and doors opening and closing somewhere down the long corridors. Staff moved quickly but quietly, the subtle difference in pace noticeable to anyone who had lived in the palace long enough to recognize when something important was about to happen.
Today, everyone moved a little faster.
Marquise was already dressed when he returned to the family wing, his coat folded over one arm as he stepped into the sitting room just in time to see Kylo attempting to put his helmet back on by himself.
It was backwards.
Shanelle stood nearby, fixing the cuff of her sleeve while Ellie sat on the floor at her feet, happily stacking wooden blocks only to knock them over again.
“You’re going to suffocate if you put it on like that,” Marquise said.
Kylo turned around.
“I fine.”
“You’re upside down.”
Kylo froze, then slowly lifted the helmet off and turned it around.
“Oh.”
Zyon sat on the couch beside Khari, still in the process of waking up, his hair sticking up in every direction as he held a piece of toast in one hand.
“Why he wearing that again…”
“Because he’s going to space,” Khari said without looking up from the book in her lap.
Kylo nodded proudly.
“I co-pilot today.”
“With a stuffed dog,” Marquise said.
“Pyro not dog,” Kylo replied seriously. “He Growlithe.”
“Of course he is.”
Shanelle glanced over at Marquise as she adjusted Ellie’s coat.
“You look like you’ve already given three speeches.”
“I’ve practiced five,” he said.
“You’ll still change it at the last second.”
“I always do.”
Ellie crawled toward him the moment she saw him, lifting both hands.
“Da!”
He bent down automatically, scooping her up with one arm as if the motion required no thought at all.
“You ready for today?” he asked her.
She grabbed his collar.
“Yes.”
Shanelle laughed.
“She has no idea what today is.”
“She never does,” he said.
Khari closed her book and stood.
“Are we eating or not? Because if we’re late, it’s not my fault.”
“You sound like your father,” Shanelle said.
“I learned from the best.”
A few minutes later, they gathered around the smaller dining table in the family sitting room instead of the formal hall, breakfast already laid out — fruit, eggs, bread, tea, and coffee, nothing elaborate, just enough to get everyone through the morning.
Kylo sat with his helmet on.
Zyon stared at him.
“You gonna eat with that?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t.”
“Yes I can.”
“You gonna drop crumbs in it.”
“…maybe.”
Marquise sat at the head of the table, Ellie in his lap, his attention split between his coffee and the stack of notes beside his plate.
Shanelle noticed immediately.
“You’re not working at breakfast.”
“I’m not working.”
“You’re reading.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
She reached over and closed the folder.
“Yes it is.”
He looked at her.
“You’re very bold this morning.”
“I’m the Queen,” she said calmly. “I’m allowed.”
Kylo leaned across the table.
“Daddy.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say nothing yet.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Can I stand next to you today?”
Marquise looked at him for a moment.
“Yes.”
Kylo grinned so wide the helmet tilted.
“I help.”
“You will stand still.”
“Yes.”
“You will not talk unless I tell you to.”
“…okay.”
“You will not press any buttons.”
“Yes.”
“You will not touch anything glowing.”
Kylo hesitated.
“…maybe.”
Shanelle covered her mouth to hide her smile.
Zyon took another bite of toast.
“Can I come too.”
“You are coming,” Marquise said.
“Okay.”
Khari took a sip of juice.
“What are we even announcing?”
Marquise looked at her.
“You’ll see.”
“That means it’s big.”
“Yes.”
“That means you’re nervous.”
“No.”
“That means you’re nervous.”
He pointed at her.
“You get that from your mother.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Shanelle said.
Before he could answer, a knock sounded at the door.
Not loud.
Not formal.
Just enough.
Marquise looked up.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Supreme General Jonas Greenwald stepped inside, already in uniform, his posture straight but his expression relaxed in a way he never allowed outside the palace.
He stopped just inside the room.
“You’re late,” Marquise said.
Greenwald raised one brow.
“I’m early.”
“You’re always early.”
“That’s why you keep me.”
Shanelle smiled.
“Good morning, General.”
“Your Majesty.”
He nodded to her, then to the children.
Khari gave him a polite nod back.
Kylo saluted with the wrong hand.
Zyon waved.
Ellie clapped.
Greenwald almost smiled.
“Everything is ready,” he said, looking back at Marquise. “CASA is in position. The Brain Trust is assembled. Press feeds are live.”
Marquise stood slowly, handing Ellie back to Shanelle.
“Good.”
Greenwald glanced at Kylo’s helmet.
“…He’s coming like that?”
“Yes,” Marquise said.
Greenwald nodded once.
“Understood.”
Shanelle stood, smoothing her coat as she adjusted Ellie on her hip.
“Then we should go.”
Khari grabbed her bag automatically before remembering she didn’t need it.
Kylo picked up Pyro.
Zyon finished his toast in one bite.
Marquise looked at all of them for a moment, then at Greenwald.
“No formalities in there,” he said quietly.
Greenwald nodded.
“Never with you.”
Marquise took a breath.
Then he turned toward the door.
“Let’s go.”
The hallway outside was already lined with guards, the palace fully awake now, the air different, heavier, charged with the kind of anticipation that only came when history was about to be made.
At the end of the corridor, the doors to the throne room stood open.
Waiting.
The doors to the throne room stood open long before the royal family reached them.
Inside, the chamber was already full.
Members of the Cordonian Agency for Space and Astronautics stood in quiet clusters near the front, their dark formal attire broken only by the subtle insignias that marked their fields of study. Along the sides of the room, military officers stood at attention beside members of the royal guard, their presence firm but unobtrusive. At the back, cameras and press equipment had been set in careful rows, the red lights already glowing as the international feeds prepared to go live.
No one spoke above a murmur.
Everyone was waiting.
The moment the herald struck the staff against the floor, the sound echoed through the chamber like a signal.
“All rise.”
Every person in the room stood at once.
The hallway beyond the doors fell silent as the royal family approached, the sound of their footsteps the only thing breaking the stillness.
Marquise entered first.
His expression had already changed, the softness from breakfast gone, replaced with the calm, unreadable composure he wore whenever the crown came before everything else. His coat fell perfectly over his shoulders, the weight of the morning settling into place as he crossed the threshold and stepped onto the polished floor of the throne room.
Behind him came Shanelle, Ellie balanced easily on her hip, her posture just as steady, her expression just as composed. The Queen’s presence filled the room without a word, the quiet authority she carried making it clear that this was as much her day as his.
Khari followed beside her, holding her book against her chest, trying to look serious and only half succeeding.
Zyon walked next, already wearing his headphones around his neck and clutching his tablet in one hand, his eyes moving slowly around the room as if he wasn’t entirely sure why so many people were staring at them.
Kylo came last among the children, his Supernova helmet firmly in place, visor pushed up just enough to see his face, Pyro tucked under his arm like he was reporting for duty.
At the rear of the group, Supreme General Jonas Greenwald entered without announcement, his uniform immaculate, his expression unreadable as he took his place behind them.
Every person in the room remained standing.
Marquise walked to the foot of the dais and stopped, turning slightly as the others moved into position.
He glanced down at Kylo, who had somehow managed to look both completely serious and completely excited at the same time.
“You ready?” he asked quietly.
Kylo nodded hard, reaching for his hand without hesitation.
“Yes.”
Marquise gave the smallest nod, then looked up again.
Shanelle leaned slightly toward them as she passed, her voice low enough that only they could hear.
“Knock ’em dead.”
He almost smiled.
She moved to the front row, taking her seat with Ellie still on her hip, Khari settling beside her immediately and opening her book like she intended to read through the entire event.
Zyon climbed into the next chair, already slipping his headphones on and tapping at his screen before the ceremony had even begun.
Ellie babbled happily, waving one hand toward the lights overhead like she thought they were there for her.
A moment later, another figure slipped quietly into the row beside them.
Eleanor.
She smoothed the front of her coat as she sat down, leaning slightly toward Shanelle with a faint smile.
“You didn’t think I was missing this, did you?”
Shanelle shook her head softly.
“Not for a second.”
Eleanor’s eyes moved to the throne, pride impossible to hide.
“That’s my son up there,” she murmured.
“And my husband,” Shanelle replied.
On the dais, Marquise turned and ascended the steps, Kylo still holding his hand.
He lowered himself onto the throne with practiced ease, the movement smooth, deliberate, the weight of the crown settling over him even without the metal resting on his head.
Kylo climbed up beside him without waiting to be told, settling into his lap like it was the most natural place in the world to sit.
Pyro rested against his chest.
The helmet stayed on.
Behind the throne, General Greenwald stepped into position, standing at attention, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
The room fell completely silent.
Marquise looked out across the chamber, his expression unreadable now, the stoic mask fully in place as his eyes moved from the scientists… to the military… to the cameras… to the people who had come to witness whatever he was about to say.
He let the silence stretch just long enough.
Then he spoke.
“Everyone…”
His voice carried easily through the chamber.
“Please be seated so we can begin this extraordinary journey.”
The room settled slowly as everyone took their seats, the sound of movement fading until only the faint hum of the camera equipment remained. The lights at the back of the chamber glowed steadily, the international feed already live, the eyes of more than just the people in the room watching what would happen next.
Marquise remained still for a moment longer, his hands resting lightly on the arms of the throne, Kylo sitting in his lap with his helmet tilted slightly to one side as he looked out at the crowd with open curiosity.
When Marquise finally spoke, his voice was calm, measured, and carried easily through the chamber.
“Today is not an ordinary day for Cordonia.”
He let the words settle before continuing.
“For generations, this throne has been the place from which wars were declared, treaties were signed, and the future of this kingdom was decided. The decisions made in this room have shaped our history, protected our people, and guided us through moments of triumph and moments of hardship alike.”
His gaze moved slowly across the chamber, resting briefly on the gathered members of CASA, then on the officers standing along the walls, and finally on the row where Shanelle sat with their children.
“Today,” he said, “we stand at the edge of something none of our ancestors could have imagined.”
A faint shift moved through the room, not noise, just the quiet awareness that the moment had begun.
Marquise continued.
“In the past year, Cordonia has known conflict. We have known uncertainty. We have watched the world around us change in ways that remind us how fragile peace can be. And in those moments, we are given a choice.”
He paused, his expression steady.
“We can hold on to what we know… and hope it is enough.”
His hand rested briefly against Kylo’s shoulder.
“Or we can prepare for the future… even when that future asks more of us than we expected to give.”
Kylo looked up at him for a second, then back at the crowd, perfectly content to sit there as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
Marquise allowed the smallest hint of a smile before his expression settled again.
“This morning, we begin a new chapter for this kingdom. One that has been built not in a single moment, but through years of work, years of debate, years of planning, and more than a few sleepless nights.”
A soft ripple of quiet amusement moved through the room.
He glanced toward Shanelle.
“And I would be remiss if I did not say that this day would not exist without the woman who sits beside our children now.”
Several heads turned automatically toward her.
Marquise’s voice remained steady, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.
“Queen Shanelle has stood beside me in every meeting, every discussion, and every decision that brought us here. Her counsel, her judgment, and her unwavering belief that this kingdom must always look forward have shaped this project as much as any plan or design.”
Shanelle inclined her head slightly, composed, but the pride in her eyes impossible to miss.
Marquise continued.
“Together, we have asked ourselves a simple question.”
His gaze moved back to the room.
“What kind of world will our children inherit… if we do nothing?”
Silence.
Complete.
He let it stay that way for a moment.
“Every generation believes it is living in a time unlike any before it. Every generation believes the future will somehow arrive on its own.”
His voice grew firmer.
“But the truth is… the future does not arrive.”
“We build it.”
His hand rested again on Kylo’s shoulder, the small helmet catching the light as the child shifted slightly in his lap.
“And sometimes,” Marquise said quietly, “we build it because a child looks at the sky and asks a question we cannot ignore.”
A few people in the room smiled.
Kylo blinked, not entirely sure why.
Marquise straightened slightly on the throne.
“For that reason… and for many others… today, the Crown of Cordonia formally announces the creation of a new institution. One that will guide this kingdom into the years ahead, not through force alone, but through knowledge, discipline, and responsibility.”
He paused just long enough for the weight of the words to settle.
“The Cordonian Agency for Space and Astronautics.”
A faint stir moved through the chamber.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He didn’t need to.
“CASA was created with one purpose.”
“To ensure that Cordonia is prepared for a future that will not wait for us to be ready.”
His eyes moved across the assembled scientists.
“To study.”
“To protect.”
“To explore.”
“And when necessary… to defend.”
The room was completely still now.
No one shifted.
No one spoke.
Marquise let the silence hold for one more breath before continuing.
“This agency does not belong to me.”
“It does not belong to this throne.”
“It belongs to Cordonia… and to every generation that will come after us.”
He rested his hands on the arms of the throne again, his voice steady, deliberate, and certain.
“And today…we begin that journey together.”
The last echoes of Marquise’s opening words faded slowly through the throne room, the silence that followed heavier than before. No one shifted in their seats. No one spoke. Even the faint hum of the camera equipment seemed quieter now, as if the room itself understood that what came next would matter far beyond the walls of the palace.
Marquise remained seated for a moment longer, his gaze steady as it moved across the chamber.
Then he turned slightly.
Shanelle rose from the front row.
Without a word, she passed Ellie gently into Eleanor’s arms, the former queen taking the child with practiced ease, settling her on her lap as Ellie immediately began babbling at the lights overhead.
“You go make history,” Eleanor murmured softly.
Shanelle smiled faintly, then turned and walked toward the dais.
Every eye in the room followed her.
She ascended the steps without hesitation, her posture straight, her expression calm, the quiet authority she carried filling the chamber just as completely as Marquise’s had moments before. When she reached the throne, she did not stop beside it.
She took her seat.
The Queen’s throne.
Equal height.
Equal presence.
Equal weight.
Kylo watched her sit, then looked up at his father like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Marquise rested one hand lightly against his shoulder, then looked back out at the room.
“Project Helios,” he said, “has never been the work of one person.”
His voice carried easily, steady, deliberate.
“It has been the work of this Crown… this kingdom… and the people who stand before you now.”
He lifted one hand slightly toward the front of the chamber.
“Members of the Cordonian Agency for Space and Astronautics.”
Several of the scientists straightened instinctively, their attention fixed forward.
“This morning, you have heard the name CASA for the first time.”
He paused.
“You will not hear it for the last.”
A faint ripple moved through the room.
Marquise continued.
“The Cordonian Agency for Space and Astronautics was created to ensure that Cordonia does not simply react to the future… but helps shape it. Exploration, defense, research, and long-range planetary oversight will all fall under its authority.”
He turned his head slightly toward Shanelle.
“And that authority does not rest with the Crown alone.”
Shanelle stood.
The movement was smooth, deliberate, and the room grew even quieter as she stepped forward from the throne, stopping beside the dais where a large display screen lowered silently from the ceiling behind her.
When she spoke, her voice was clear, precise, and carried the kind of control that came from years of speaking to cameras, councils, and rooms far less friendly than this one.
“CASA is governed by a forty-member Brain Trust,” she said.
The screen behind her lit up, the emblem of CASA appearing first before shifting into a structured display.
“Four tiers. Absolute parity. No political appointments. No ceremonial positions. Every member was chosen for one reason only.”
The screen changed again, showing rows of faces, names, and fields of study.
“Competence.”
A few of the scientists exchanged brief glances.
Shanelle continued.
“These forty individuals represent the highest level of scientific, engineering, ethical, and strategic expertise available to the Crown. Their responsibility is not to agree with us.”
She looked briefly toward Marquise, then back to the room.
“It is to tell us when we are wrong.”
A murmur moved faintly through the chamber.
She didn’t stop.
“Tier I — The Apex Council.”
The screen shifted again.
“Ten members. Those who see the whole board.”
Names appeared one by one as she spoke.
“Dr. Amara Voss. Astrophysics and stellar dynamics.
Dr. Nadine El-Khatib. Nuclear fusion science.
Dr. Celeste Moreau. Orbital systems architecture.
Dr. Imani Okoye. Computational physics and modeling.
Dr. Helena Kovács. Systems failure and risk theory.”
She paused, letting the names settle before continuing.
“Dr. Julian Ashcroft. Aerospace propulsion.
Dr. Mateo Ríos. Planetary and interstellar physics.
Dr. Elias Nordström. Advanced materials engineering.
Dr. Arun Malhotra. AI governance and predictive systems.
Dr. Victor Lang. Deep-space energy containment.”
The room was completely still now.
Shanelle’s voice remained steady.
“Tier II — Strategic Sciences Council.
Tier III — Applied Research and Systems Command.
Tier IV — Futures, Ethics, and Contingency.”
The display filled with the full structure of the Brain Trust, all forty names visible at once.
Shanelle folded her hands lightly in front of her.
“These individuals do not advise the Crown in the traditional sense.”
She looked directly at the room.
“They have the authority to stop it.”
Silence.
Absolute.
Even the cameras seemed to pause.
Marquise spoke again, his voice calm but unmistakably firm.
“If the Brain Trust determines that a course of action taken under Project Helios presents catastrophic or irreversible risk… they may overrule the King.”
The words landed like stone.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Shanelle continued.
“Only under strict conditions.”
The screen shifted again, displaying the mandate.
“Unanimous agreement from Tier I.
Supermajority concurrence across all tiers.
Formal presentation of findings to the Crown.
No press. No politics. No outside influence.”
She looked back toward Marquise.
“If those conditions are met… the decision stops.”
Marquise nodded once.
“I may disagree,” he said.
“I may argue.”
His gaze moved slowly across the chamber.
“But I must listen.”
The silence in the room deepened, the weight of the words settling over everyone present.
“Because Cordonia does not fear truth,” he said quietly.
“Even when it contradicts a crown.”
The silence that followed the mandate lingered longer than anyone expected.
Even after the display behind Shanelle dimmed slightly, no one spoke. The weight of what had just been said — that the Crown itself could be overruled — settled over the chamber like a second ceiling, pressing down on every person in the room.
Marquise allowed the moment to hold.
Then he leaned forward slightly on the throne, one hand resting against Kylo’s shoulder, his expression unreadable once again.
“That authority exists for a reason,” he said.
His voice was calm, but the tone had changed.
“What we are about to show you today… is not small.”
A faint shift moved through the chamber.
He stood.
Kylo immediately grabbed his sleeve, and Marquise steadied him with one hand before stepping down from the throne, guiding the child with him as he moved toward the center of the dais.
Shanelle remained beside the display, her posture straight, her attention fixed forward.
“Project Helios,” Marquise continued, “was never intended to be a single installation, a single laboratory, or a single moment of achievement.”
The screen behind them came to life again, the emblem of CASA dissolving into a rotating image of the Cordonian coastline.
“It is a network.”
The image zoomed outward, the map shifting toward a small island off the southern edge of the kingdom.
Several people in the room leaned forward instinctively.
Marquise did not raise his voice.
“Iainesco Island.”
The name alone caused a ripple of recognition among the military officers.
“For the past three years,” he said, “Iainesco has been under full Crown authority. Construction, research, and development have taken place there under the direct supervision of CASA, the Cordonian military, and this throne.”
The screen shifted again.
Satellite images.
Runways.
Facilities.
Energy arrays.
Docking structures.
The room grew very still.
“As of this morning,” Marquise said, “Iainesco Island is fully operational.”
A/N: this is the next chapter in the journey of my OTP. Follow along for the fun.
Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual. Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) Also may contain some violence and other themes you may find offensive | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.
Current Word Count: words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾♀️)
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This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!
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Chapter 13.) Hinge. Pt. 1.
"November came softly to Cordonia, carrying with it a season of celebration, duty, and quiet anticipation. The days ahead promised laughter, milestones, and moments meant to be remembered, yet beneath the warmth of family and tradition, the world itself seemed to be turning. Doors were beginning to open, decisions were beginning to take shape, and somewhere between the past and the future, something unseen had quietly begun to move."
Marquise sat behind his desk, the morning light from the palace windows falling across a stack of reports he had not yet finished reading. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of paper as he turned another page, his expression tightening slightly as his eyes moved across the lines.
The latest dispatch from the foreign ministry lay open in front of him.
Sulovaria had confirmed it.
Apostolis Galanidas had been formally recognized as the new King, the last of the loyalist factions having conceded to his claim after weeks of negotiation behind closed doors. The transition of power had been faster than anyone expected, and far less violent than it could have been. For the moment, at least, the kingdom appeared to be stabilizing.
Another report rested beside it.
The final units of the Sulovarian Armed Forces stationed in Alevendia had withdrawn from the island overnight. After five years of occupation, the last of their ships had cleared the harbor before dawn, leaving the island in the hands of its own people once more.
Marquise leaned back slightly in his chair, exhaling slowly as he set the papers down.
“That was faster than I expected.”
The door opened before he could reach for the next report.
Shanelle stepped inside, Ellie balanced comfortably on her hip, the child clutching the edge of her mother’s collar with one hand as she looked around the room with bright, curious eyes.
“We just got back,” Shanelle said, nudging the door closed behind her with her foot. “Khari didn’t want to go to school, Kylo wanted to wear his helmet again, and Zyon tried to bring a leaf collection into the car.”
Marquise huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension leaving his shoulders immediately.
“So, a normal morning.”
“Very.”
Shanelle crossed the room and stopped beside his desk, her expression shifting as she noticed the reports spread in front of him.
“What happened?”
Marquise tapped the paper lightly.
“Apostolis has been recognized as King. Officially.”
Her brows lifted slightly.
“That was quick.”
“He moved faster than Demetrius ever did,” Marquise said. “And smarter.”
He slid the second report toward her.
“The Sulovarian forces have left Alevendia. All of them. The last ships cleared the harbor this morning.”
Shanelle looked down at the page, reading for a moment before letting out a slow breath.
“That’s… bigger than I expected.”
“It is,” he agreed. “If Apostolis keeps his word, the region stabilizes. If he doesn’t—”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t need to.
Ellie squirmed in Shanelle’s arms, letting out a small, impatient sound as she twisted toward the floor.
Shanelle adjusted her hold.
“You want down?”
Ellie answered by reaching both hands toward the carpet.
Marquise was already pushing his chair back.
“Let her try.”
Shanelle lowered her carefully, keeping one hand near her shoulder as Ellie’s feet touched the floor. The little girl wobbled immediately, her tiny hands grabbing at the edge of the chair leg as she pulled herself upright with all the determination she could manage.
For half a second, she stood.
Then her balance tipped, and she dropped back down with a soft thump, blinking in surprise before breaking into a pleased little laugh.
Instead of trying again, she turned and crawled straight toward Marquise.
He was already kneeling, arms open.
“Well, that didn’t last long,” he said, scooping her up easily as she reached him.
Ellie grabbed a fistful of his jacket and squealed, entirely pleased with herself.
Marquise sat down on the floor without thinking about it, settling her in front of him as she immediately became distracted by the edge of the rug.
Shanelle leaned against the desk, watching them for a moment before looking back at the reports.
“So,” she said quietly, “what does this mean for us?”
Marquise rested one hand lightly on Ellie’s back as she crawled in a slow circle between his knees, his eyes drifting back toward the papers on the desk.
“It means Sulovaria is rebuilding,” he said.
“And Alevendia is free.”
He paused, his expression thoughtful.
“And it means the next few months are going to matter more than anyone realizes.”
Ellie slapped the floor happily, completely unaware of the weight of the conversation happening above her head.
Marquise looked down at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.
“Which,” he added softly, “is exactly why we don’t get to slow down.”
“When do we ever?” Shanelle asked.
Ellie slapped the floor happily, completely unaware of the weight of the conversation happening above her head. Marquise steadied her as she leaned against his knee, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his sleeve as if she had just accomplished something remarkable.
Shanelle watched them for a moment, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly.
“They’ll be three in a few days,” she said quietly.
Marquise glanced up.
“The boys?”
She nodded.
“I swear they were just learning to walk yesterday.”
He looked down at Ellie, who was now attempting to pull herself upright using his arm for leverage.
“They were,” he said. “And now Kylo thinks he’s ready to fly a rocket with Pyro at his side, and Zyon thinks the gardens belong to him.”
Shanelle smiled faintly.
“At least he only brings in leaves now. Last week it was a worm.”
Marquise let out a soft breath that almost turned into a laugh.
“I remember when Khari turned three,” he said. “She decided she didn’t need help with anything ever again.”
“She still thinks that way,” Shanelle replied.
Ellie managed to get halfway upright before losing her balance again and dropping back onto the carpet with a soft thud, blinking as if personally offended by gravity.
Marquise caught her before she could crawl away too far, lifting her easily and settling her in his lap.
“My little wanderer,” he murmured. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Ellie squealed happily, grabbing at the front of his jacket.
“They grow too fast,” he said quietly.
Shanelle leaned against the edge of the desk, watching them both.
“They’re supposed to,” she said. “That’s the whole point.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then her gaze drifted back to the reports on the desk.
Her expression changed slightly.
“So,” she said, her tone returning to business,
“what does this mean for us?”
Marquise followed her gaze back to the papers, his expression settling again.
“It means Sulovaria is rebuilding,” he said.
“And Alevendia is free.”
He paused, thoughtful.
“And it means the next few months are going to matter more than anyone realizes.”
The twins’ birthday arrived faster than either parent realized. And just like that, right before their eyes, their tiny chaos agents — with Shanelle’s eyes and smile and Marquise’s face and mannerisms — turned three, and showed absolutely no intention of slowing down.
The morning of November sixth began like any other school day in the palace, which meant breakfast was loud, slightly chaotic, and already running behind schedule.
Khari sat at the table in full uniform, half-finished with her toast and pretending very hard not to look at her brothers. Kylo was talking with his mouth full, Zyon was more interested in the strawberries on his plate than the eggs beside them, and Ellie sat in her high chair happily banging a spoon against the tray as if she had been personally invited to provide the morning’s soundtrack.
Shanelle sipped her coffee like she had seen all of this before.
Marquise, on the other hand, had the distinct feeling that something was coming.
He looked from Khari… to Kylo… to Zyon… then back to Khari again.
“…Why are you all so quiet?” he asked.
Khari froze mid-bite.
“I’m not quiet.”
“You’re very quiet,” he said.
Kylo looked at Zyon.
Zyon looked at his plate.
Ellie squealed for no reason at all.
Shanelle hid a smile behind her cup.
Marquise narrowed his eyes slightly.
“No,” he said slowly. “I know that look. That is the look you all get when you’ve decided something without asking me first.”
Khari sat up straighter.
“We didn’t decide anything.”
“You absolutely did.”
Kylo raised his hand like he was in class.
“It was Khari’s idea.”
Khari turned so fast her chair squeaked.
“It was not my idea!”
Zyon nodded very seriously.
“It was Khari’s idea.”
Ellie slapped her tray and squealed in agreement, though no one was entirely sure what she was agreeing with.
Marquise leaned back in his chair, already bracing himself.
“…What idea.”
Shanelle set her cup down slowly, far too calmly.
“You remember,” she said.
Marquise blinked once.
Then looked at her.
“…I’m afraid to ask.”
She smiled.
“You should be.”
A few days earlier…
Marquise should have known something was wrong the moment Khari knocked on his office door instead of walking in.
She never knocked.
He looked up from the report in his hands.
“…Come in.”
The door opened slowly, and Khari stepped inside with the careful, overly polite expression she only used when she wanted something.
Behind her stood Kylo and Zyon.
And behind them, Shanelle, holding Ellie on her hip.
Marquise lowered the paper immediately.
“No.”
Khari blinked.
“You don’t even know what we’re gonna say.”
“I don’t need to,” he replied. “The three of you are standing in a line. That never means anything good.”
Kylo waved enthusiastically.
“Hi Daddy!”
Zyon waved too.
Ellie squealed like she was announcing their arrival to the entire kingdom.
Shanelle leaned against the doorframe, completely relaxed.
“I’m just here to observe,” she said.
“That makes me more nervous,” Marquise muttered.
Khari cleared her throat and stepped forward like she was about to present a formal proposal.
“Okay. So. We have something we want to ask you.”
Marquise leaned back in his chair slowly.
“That sentence has never ended well for me.”
Kylo climbed onto the chair in front of the desk without being invited.
“It’s for our birthday.”
Zyon climbed up beside him.
“It’s a good idea.”
Ellie bounced in Shanelle’s arms and clapped like she agreed.
Marquise pointed at her.
“Even she looks suspicious.”
Shanelle shrugged.
“She supports the motion.”
Khari took a breath like she had practiced this.
“So. We were thinking. Since the boys are turning three—”
Marquise held up a hand.
“No.”
Kylo blinked.
“You don’t know what it is yet.”
“I don’t need to know what it is. You said ‘we were thinking.’ That’s already a problem.”
Zyon leaned across the desk.
“It’s fun.”
“That makes it worse.”
Khari put both hands on the desk.
“It’s safe.”
Marquise narrowed his eyes.
“You saying that makes me even more concerned.”
Kylo grinned.
“We wanna go go-karting.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Marquise stared at them.
Then at Shanelle.
Then back at the children.
“…You want to do what.”
“Go-karting,” Khari repeated, like she was explaining something obvious. “For their birthday.”
“They are turning three.”
“Yes.”
“They still need help putting their shoes on.”
“They can put their shoes on.”
“Sometimes,” Marquise said.
Zyon raised his hand.
“I can drive.”
“No.”
Kylo nodded.
“I can drive fast.”
“No.”
Ellie squealed loudly, bouncing again.
Marquise pointed at her.
“She agrees with me.”
Shanelle shook her head.
“She agrees with them.”
Khari leaned closer.
“They have the little ones. The small go-karts. With the bumpers.”
“No.”
“They have helmets.”
“No.”
“They have seatbelts.”
“No.”
“They have adults there.”
“No.”
“They have—”
“No.”
Kylo frowned.
“…You didn’t even think about it.”
“I thought about it the second you walked in the door.”
Zyon tilted his head.
“Daddy scared.”
Marquise blinked.
“I am not scared.”
Khari crossed her arms.
“You’re scared.”
“I am cautious.”
“That means scared.”
Shanelle bit the inside of her cheek, very clearly trying not to laugh.
Ellie slapped Marquise’s desk with both hands and squealed like she had just made the final argument.
Marquise looked at his wife.
“You’re not helping.”
“I told you,” she said calmly. “I’m just observing.”
He looked back at the three of them sitting across from him.
Then at Ellie.
Then at Shanelle again.
“…I’m going to regret this, aren’t I.”
Shanelle smiled.
“Probably.”
Marquise leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he looked at the three of them one by one, as if hoping at least one child in the room would suddenly remember they were only three years old.
“You’re not driving anything,” he said firmly. “Not a car. Not a cart. Not a bicycle with training wheels. Nothing with wheels and an engine.”
Kylo frowned.
“It’s not a car.”
“That is not the point.”
Zyon nodded very seriously.
“It’s a little car.”
“That is exactly the point.”
Khari stepped in before the argument could collapse.
“They have the small ones,” she said, very clearly prepared. “The really small ones. For kids.”
Marquise pointed at the twins.
“They are kids.”
“Yes.”
“They are very small kids.”
“Yes.”
“They are turning three.”
“Yes.”
He spread his hands.
“That should be the end of the conversation.”
Kylo leaned across the desk, eyes wide.
“But Daddy, it’s our birthday.”
“That does not make you invincible.”
Zyon nodded.
“We wear helmets.”
“You can wear five helmets, that does not make you invincible.”
Khari tried again.
“They have the ones that only go slow.”
Marquise looked at her.
“How slow.”
Khari hesitated just long enough to be suspicious.
“…Slow.”
“That was not convincing.”
Shanelle shifted Ellie to her other hip, watching the exchange like she had bought a ticket to the show.
Ellie clapped her hands suddenly, completely delighted by the noise level in the room.
Marquise pointed at her.
“She’s encouraging them.”
“She’s encouraging everyone,” Shanelle said.
Kylo climbed higher onto the chair, now fully committed.
“I be careful.”
“No.”
“I promise.”
“No.”
“I go slow.”
“No.”
“I hold the wheel.”
“That is the bare minimum requirement for driving anything.”
Zyon leaned forward too.
“I drive good.”
“You don’t even drive your toy cars good.”
“I crash good.”
“That is not better.”
Khari planted both hands on the desk again.
“Daddy.”
He looked at her.
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
“You don’t need to finish.”
“You always say we should try new things.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“I also say not to jump off furniture, and yet here we are.”
Shanelle covered her mouth with her hand, pretending to cough.
Ellie squealed again, bouncing hard enough that Shanelle had to tighten her grip.
Marquise looked at his wife.
“You are enjoying this.”
“I’m staying neutral.”
“You are not neutral.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“That’s worse.”
Kylo tugged on his sleeve.
“Daddy.”
“No.”
“Daddy.”
“No.”
“Daddy.”
“…What.”
“It’s my birthday.”
Marquise closed his eyes briefly.
Zyon leaned in from the other side.
“And my birthday.”
“I know. I was there.”
Khari delivered the final push.
“They’ll only be three once.”
Marquise opened one eye.
“That sounds like something someone says right before something goes wrong.”
Ellie reached out and smacked the edge of the desk with both hands.
Everyone stopped for half a second.
She squealed triumphantly, like she had just made the deciding vote.
Shanelle laughed under her breath.
Marquise looked at the ceiling.
“…I am being outnumbered in my own office.”
Khari folded her arms.
“So is that a yes?”
“No.”
Three voices at once:
“Awwww.”
Marquise pointed at them.
“That is not how this works. You do not ask me something dangerous and then make that noise until I say yes.”
Kylo blinked.
“…We can try.”
Zyon nodded.
“We try again.”
Shanelle turned away so they wouldn’t see her smile.
Marquise dragged a hand down his face.
“This is exactly how revolutions start.”
There was a knock at the door.
Marquise didn’t even look up.
“Go away,” he muttered.
The door opened anyway.
Eleanor stepped inside, pausing just long enough to take in the scene:
Khari standing at the desk like a lawyer, the twins perched in the chairs, Shanelle leaning against the wall with Ellie on her hip, and Marquise looking like he was five seconds away from declaring martial law.
She lifted one brow.
“…Should I come back later, or is this a public hearing?”
Shanelle smiled immediately.
“You might want to stay. They’re negotiating.”
Eleanor’s expression brightened with interest.
“Oh, this I have to see.”
Marquise sat up straighter.
“No, you don’t.”
She walked farther into the room anyway.
“What are we negotiating?”
Khari answered before anyone else could.
“We want to go go-karting for the twins’ birthday.”
Eleanor blinked once.
Then looked at Marquise.
“And you said no.”
“I said absolutely not.”
She looked back at the children.
“And they’re still standing here.”
“Yes,” Marquise said. “Because they don’t understand the meaning of the word.”
Kylo raised his hand.
“I know what no means.”
Marquise pointed at him.
“Then why are you still talking?”
“Because I want yes.”
Eleanor laughed softly and moved to stand beside Shanelle.
“And what’s the problem with go-karting?”
Marquise turned slowly in his chair.
“They are turning three.”
“Yes.”
“They still need help putting on their socks.”
“Yes.”
“They think driving means holding the wheel and screaming.”
“That sounds accurate.”
“And you’re not concerned?”
Eleanor folded her arms.
“I raised you. I’m very concerned. I’m just not surprised.”
Shanelle bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Marquise looked between the two of them.
“You are both enjoying this.”
“We are observing,” Shanelle said.
Eleanor nodded.
“Very carefully.”
Khari stepped forward again, sensing momentum.
“They have the small ones.”
Marquise sighed.
“You already said that.”
“They have helmets.”
“You already said that.”
“They have seatbelts.”
“You definitely already said that.”
“They have adults there.”
“I am the adult, and I said no.”
Zyon leaned across the desk.
“Daddy scared.”
Marquise froze.
“I am not scared.”
Kylo nodded.
“You scared.”
“I am cautious.”
“That means scared.”
Eleanor covered her mouth, laughing.
“Oh, you’re losing.”
“I am not losing,” Marquise said. “I am maintaining order.”
Ellie squealed loudly and clapped both hands like she agreed with the twins.
Marquise pointed at her.
“She’s not even part of this conversation.”
“She’s supporting the majority,” Eleanor said.
Khari took a breath.
“They’ll only be three once.”
Marquise groaned.
“That sentence should be illegal.”
Shanelle finally spoke, calm as ever.
“They’ll be with us the whole time.”
He looked at her.
“You knew about this.”
“I heard the proposal.”
“You approved the proposal.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t say no.”
Eleanor tilted her head.
“Well, if both parents are there, and the carts are small, and they’re wearing helmets…”
Marquise stared at her.
“You are supposed to be on my side.”
“I was,” she said. “When you were three.”
Kylo slid off the chair and walked around the desk, stopping right in front of him.
“Daddy.”
“No.”
“Daddy.”
“No.”
“It my birthday.”
Marquise closed his eyes.
Zyon joined him.
“And my birthday.”
“I know.”
Khari folded her arms.
“We already told everyone we might go.”
Marquise’s eyes snapped open.
“You what.”
Khari froze.
“…might.”
Eleanor laughed again.
“Oh, it’s over. You’ve already lost.”
Marquise looked at the ceiling like he was asking for strength.
“This is how kingdoms fall.”
Ellie squealed again, bouncing hard in Shanelle’s arms.
Marquise dragged a hand down his face, then looked at the four of them… then at his mother… then at his wife.
“…I am going to regret this.”
Four voices at once:
“Yes.”
He pointed at them.
“I am not finished.”
They went quiet immediately.
“You can go,” he said, very firmly. “But only if we are all there.”
Khari blinked.
“All?”
“Yes. All. Everyone. No exceptions.”
Kylo gasped.
“Go-karts!”
“Helmets,” Marquise said.
“Yes.”
“Seatbelts.”
“Yes.”
“No driving without an adult right there.”
“Yes.”
“No arguing with the instructor.”
“Yes.”
“No trying to go faster than you’re supposed to.”
Kylo hesitated.
“…yes.”
Marquise narrowed his eyes.
“And Ellie is not going anywhere near a go-kart.”
Ellie squealed happily.
“She agrees,” Eleanor said.
Marquise leaned back in his chair, defeated but smiling anyway.
“They’re going to be the end of me.”
Shanelle smiled.
“You knew that when you married me.”
He looked at the twins.
“…Fine. We’ll go go-karting.”
Kylo cheered.
Zyon cheered.
Khari grinned.
Ellie squealed loud enough to echo.
Marquise shook his head.
“I’m going to regret this.”
The memory faded as quickly as it had come.
Thursday, November 6th, 2025 had arrived whether Marquise was ready for it or not.
Breakfast that morning was louder than usual, which was saying something, and the moment he walked into the dining room he knew exactly why.
Khari was already sitting at the table in full uniform, eating far too quietly.
Kylo was talking nonstop.
Zyon had somehow managed to get syrup on his sleeve.
Ellie sat in her high chair banging a spoon against the tray like she was conducting the entire room.
Shanelle looked entirely too calm.
Marquise stopped in the doorway.
“…Why does it feel like I agreed to something I shouldn’t have agreed to.”
Khari didn’t look up.
“You agree to a lot of things.”
“That is not reassuring.”
He walked to the table slowly, eyes moving from one child to the next.
Kylo grinned at him.
“It our birthday.”
“I am aware.”
Zyon nodded proudly.
“We three.”
“Yes. You are.”
Ellie squealed loudly and slapped her tray.
Marquise pointed at her.
“She’s the only one in this room who doesn’t make me nervous.”
Shanelle raised a brow.
“Give her time.”
He sat down, still watching all of them like he expected someone to suddenly confess to a crime.
Khari took a sip of juice.
Very carefully.
Very innocently.
Marquise narrowed his eyes.
“…Why are you being polite.”
“I’m always polite.”
“No, you’re not.”
Kylo leaned across the table.
“Daddy.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say nothing yet.”
“You don’t need to.”
Zyon climbed halfway out of his chair.
“We go today.”
Marquise froze.
Slowly… very slowly… he turned his head toward Shanelle.
“…We go today.”
She took a sip of coffee.
“Yes.”
He stared at her.
“You didn’t remind me.”
“You remembered.”
“I remembered agreeing. I did not remember it being today.”
Khari smiled.
“You said we could.”
“I said we could under supervision.”
“Yes.”
“Full supervision.”
“Yes.”
“With helmets.”
“Yes.”
“With rules.”
“Yes.”
“With everyone there.”
“Yes.”
Ellie squealed again and threw her spoon on the floor.
Marquise leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.
“…I knew I was going to regret this.”
Shanelle smiled into her cup.
“You say that a lot.”
Kylo raised both hands in the air.
“Go-karts!”
Zyon copied him.
“Go-karts!”
Ellie squealed like she had just been invited too.
Marquise looked at her.
“You are absolutely not driving anything.”
She laughed anyway.
He sighed, then looked back at the twins.
“…Finish your breakfast. Both of you. You are not operating heavy machinery on an empty stomach.”
Khari grinned.
“You called them heavy machinery.”
“They are heavy,” he said. “And they are machinery. That counts.”
Shanelle shook her head, smiling.
“You’re never going to win with them.”
Marquise looked at his children, then at his wife, then at the clock on the wall.
“…I don’t need to win.”
He reached for his coffee.
“I just need everyone to survive the day.”
Breakfast ended louder than it began, which Marquise would have said was impressive if he hadn’t already been bracing himself for the rest of the day.
Khari slid out of her chair first, grabbing her bag before either of her brothers could start another argument about whose birthday it was more.
“It’s both your birthday,” she said, for what had to be the fifth time that morning. “You were born on the same day.”
Kylo frowned.
“I was first.”
“By two minutes,” Shanelle said.
“That still first.”
Zyon tugged on his sleeve.
“We go go-kart now?”
“No,” Marquise said immediately.
“We go after school,” Shanelle corrected, standing and wiping Ellie’s hands as the little girl squirmed in her chair.
Kylo gasped.
“After school!”
Zyon bounced in place.
“After school!”
Ellie squealed like she had also been invited.
Marquise pointed at her.
“You are still not driving anything.”
She laughed at him.
Khari slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at her father.
“You promised.”
“I said we would go,” he replied. “I did not say I was happy about it.”
“You’re never happy about anything fun.”
“That is not true,” he said. “I am very happy about quiet fun.”
Kylo grabbed his backpack and ran straight into his leg.
“Daddy, I drive fast.”
“No.”
“I drive slow.”
“No.”
“I drive medium.”
“No.”
Shanelle laughed under her breath as she picked Ellie up.
“Come on. If we don’t leave now, you’ll all be late.”
Zyon ran toward the door, then ran back.
“Go-karts later!”
“Yes,” Khari said, pushing him toward the hallway. “Go-karts later.”
Kylo stopped in front of Marquise and looked up at him very seriously.
“You be brave, Daddy.”
Marquise blinked.
“I beg your pardon.”
Zyon nodded.
“You scared.”
“I am not scared.”
Khari grinned.
“You’re scared.”
Shanelle kissed his cheek as she walked past with Ellie.
“You agreed to this.”
“I agreed under pressure.”
“That’s called parenting.”
The children disappeared down the hall in a storm of voices, shoes, and birthday excitement, their laughter echoing long after the door closed behind them.
Marquise stood there for a moment, hands on his hips.
“…I knew I should have said no.”
Shanelle smiled as she adjusted Ellie on her hip.
“You did say no.”
“Yes,” he muttered.
“And then you said yes.”
⸻
The palace was louder than usual when the children came home.
Marquise heard them before he saw them — footsteps running down the hall, voices talking over one another, and one very familiar shout that could only belong to Kylo.
“We home! We home! We go go-karts now!”
Marquise closed his eyes.
“…It’s time.”
Shanelle leaned against the doorway of his office, already holding Ellie, who was bouncing in her arms like she knew exactly where they were going.
“It’s time,” she confirmed.
Khari appeared next, still in uniform, looking far too pleased with herself.
“They’ve been talking about it all day.”
“I assumed they had,” Marquise said.
Behind her, Zyon ran into the room holding a paper crown from school.
“I birthday!”
“Yes,” Marquise said. “You are.”
Kylo ran in right after him.
“We go now?”
“We are going,” Shanelle said, “after everyone gets their shoes on.”
“Shoes slow,” Kylo said.
“Shoes required,” Marquise replied.
From the hallway came another voice.
“Are we ready?”
Eleanor stepped in, already dressed for the outing, Margo just behind her, both of them looking far too amused.
Callie and Luca followed, along with two of the other palace children and their parents, the hallway quickly filling with the kind of noise that only happened when the entire family went somewhere together.
Marquise looked around the room.
“…Why are there so many people.”
Eleanor smiled.
“You said everyone had to go.”
He stared at her.
“I meant everyone in this house.”
“You should have been more specific.”
Ellie clapped her hands and squealed.
Kylo grabbed his father’s hand.
“Daddy. Go-karts.”
Zyon grabbed the other.
“Go-karts.”
Khari folded her arms, smiling.
“You promised.”
Marquise looked at Shanelle.
She raised a brow.
“You promised.”
He sighed, long and dramatic.
“…Fine. Let’s go before I change my mind.”
Kylo cheered.
Zyon cheered louder.
Ellie squealed like she was leading the celebration.
Marquise shook his head as they all started toward the door.
“This is a terrible idea.”
Eleanor laughed.
“You say that every time.”
“Yes,” he muttered.
“And every time I’m right.”
The moment they stepped out of the cars, Marquise knew he had made a mistake.
The sound alone was enough to confirm it — engines whining, tires humming against the track, children laughing, adults shouting instructions from the sidelines. The entire place smelled faintly of rubber, fuel, and excitement, which was apparently the exact combination his children thrived on.
Kylo gasped like he had just arrived in heaven.
“Go-karts!”
Zyon bounced beside him.
“So many!”
Khari grinned, already halfway to the counter before anyone else had taken two steps.
Shanelle slipped her hand into Marquise’s as they walked behind them.
“You’re doing great,” she said.
“I am not doing great.”
“You haven’t even seen the track yet.”
“I don’t need to see the track. I hear the track.”
Behind them, Eleanor and Margo stepped out more slowly, Ellie balanced comfortably between them, the little girl already clapping her hands at the noise.
“She stays with us,” Eleanor said firmly. “No discussion.”
Marquise nodded immediately.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Ellie squealed like she had just been assigned the most important job in the world.
“We watch!” Margo said, bouncing her slightly. “We cheer!”
Ellie clapped harder.
“Chee!”
Callie and Luca ran past them, followed by two of the other palace children, all of them talking at once as they stared at the smaller track on the other side of the building.
Khari turned around, walking backward.
“They have the kid track over there!”
Marquise pointed.
“How fast.”
Khari stopped.
“…Not fast.”
He looked at the attendant.
“How fast.”
The attendant smiled politely.
“Kid karts are limited speed, sir. Faster than the toddler track, slower than the adult track. Very safe.”
Marquise narrowed his eyes.
“That was not a number.”
Shanelle laughed.
“They’ll be fine.”
Kylo tugged his sleeve.
“I drive.”
“You sit,” Marquise said.
“I drive.”
“You sit and follow directions.”
“I drive good.”
“We will see.”
⸻
A few minutes later, helmets were on, seatbelts were fastened, and Marquise stood at the edge of the barrier like a man supervising a military exercise.
Khari climbed into her kart easily.
Callie and Luca took the ones beside her.
Kylo needed help getting into his, which Marquise did himself, tightening the strap twice before stepping back.
“You stay on the track.”
“Yes.”
“You do not bump anyone.”
“Yes.”
“You do not try to go fast.”
“Yes.”
Zyon raised his hand from his seat.
“I go fast.”
“No.”
The engines started.
Marquise flinched.
Shanelle folded her arms, smiling as the line of small karts rolled forward.
They weren’t slow.
Not adult-track fast, but fast enough to make the kids laugh as they rounded the first turn.
Kylo whooped.
Zyon shouted something completely unintelligible.
Khari passed Callie on the straightaway and immediately looked proud of herself.
Marquise leaned forward, gripping the rail.
“They’re going too fast.”
“They’re fine.”
“That one turned too sharp.”
“He stayed on the track.”
“That one almost hit the wall.”
“He didn’t.”
Ellie squealed from Eleanor’s arms like she was watching the greatest show on earth. Margo laughed.
“She’s your loudest cheerleader.”
Marquise watched another lap.
Then another.
Then another.
Slowly… very slowly… his shoulders dropped.
“…He’s actually steering,” he said.
Shanelle smirked.
“Yes. He is.”
Zyon waved as he passed.
Marquise waved back without thinking.
Shanelle caught it.
“Oh, you’re having fun.”
“I am not.”
Kylo sped past again, laughing.
“…They’re doing fine,” he admitted.
Khari crossed the line first and threw both hands in the air.
“I won!”
Marquise shook his head.
“…I’m going to regret this next part, aren’t I.”
Shanelle grinned.
“You said we could try the adult track.”
“I did not say we had to enjoy it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
He looked at the attendant.
“…How fast are those.”
The attendant smiled.
“Fast enough.”
Shanelle laughed.
“Oh, we’re doing this.”
⸻
A few minutes later, helmets back on.
Two karts side by side.
Marquise looked at Shanelle.
“This is a terrible idea.”
“You said that already.”
“I mean it more now.”
“You’re nervous.”
“I am not nervous.”
“You’re scared.”
“I am cautious.”
She grinned.
“That means scared.”
The light turned green.
They launched forward.
Marquise took the first turn too wide.
Shanelle passed him immediately.
“Oh, that’s one!” she shouted.
He leaned into the next turn harder.
“That does not count!”
“Score says it does!”
Lap after lap.
Race after race.
Callie shouting.
Khari keeping score.
Kylo screaming every time someone passed.
Zyon cheering for whoever was closest.
Ellie happily shrieking in Eleanor’s arms like she was at a championship match.
By race seven, Marquise was laughing.
Actually laughing.
Helmet off and breath short.
“That,” he said, pointing at the track, “was worth every complaint I made.”
Shanelle smirked.
“You loved it.”
“I did not love it.”
“You loved it.”
“…Best of nine.”
She laughed.
“I knew it.”
⸻
By the time everyone made it back to the palace, the twins were louder than they had been at the track, which Marquise would have said was physically impossible if he hadn’t been living through it.
Kylo ran ahead the moment the doors opened.
“We home! We home! Party now!”
Zyon ran right behind him.
“Cupcakes!”
Khari followed at a much more reasonable pace, though the grin on her face made it clear she was just as excited.
“Shoes off,” she reminded them. “You’re not running through the palace in go-kart shoes.”
Ellie squealed from Margo’s arms as they came inside, clapping both hands like she was announcing the next event herself.
Shanelle laughed as she handed her bag to one of the attendants.
“I think she had more fun watching than they did driving.”
“She definitely yelled more than they did,” Eleanor said, smiling as she set Ellie down on the rug near the dining room doors. “Didn’t you?”
Ellie slapped the floor happily.
“Ah!”
Marquise stepped inside last, rolling his shoulders like he had just finished a workout instead of a birthday outing.
“That,” he said, pulling off his jacket, “was entirely too much excitement for one afternoon.”
“You loved it,” Shanelle said.
“I tolerated it.”
“You asked for best of nine.”
“That is not the point.”
Khari pushed the dining room doors open before he could argue again.
And stopped.
“Oh wow.”
The long table had been cleared of its usual settings and replaced with something far less formal. Instead of place cards and polished covers, the entire center of the table had been turned into a make-your-own pasta bar, bowls and trays stretching from one end to the other.
Pasta in all shapes, lengths, and sizes, different sauces, vegetables, meats, cheeses, and more toppings than Kylo could count in one look.
Kylo gasped like he had just seen treasure.
“Noodles!”
Zyon stared at the table, eyes wide.
“So many noodles.”
Shanelle smiled, folding her arms.
“You said you wanted pasta for your birthday.”
“I want all of it,” Kylo said immediately.
“You are not eating all of it,” Marquise replied.
“We share,” Zyon said.
“That is the first sensible thing anyone has said today,” Marquise muttered.
Callie and Luca ran in behind them, followed by the other children, the room filling quickly with voices as everyone gathered around the table.
Eleanor laughed softly.
“This is the least royal dinner I’ve seen in this palace in years.”
“That’s the point,” Shanelle said. “It’s their birthday.”
Ellie crawled toward the table, grabbing the edge of the chair and pulling herself up just high enough to see the bowls.
“Nuh!”
“Yes,” Margo said, scooping her up before she could grab a handful of pasta. “You eat later.”
Marquise shook his head, smiling despite himself.
“All right,” he said. “Everyone gets one plate. One. If I see a mountain of noodles taller than your head, I’m taking it away.”
Kylo grabbed a bowl anyway.
“Big bowl.”
“Smaller bowl.”
“Big.”
“Smaller.”
Shanelle handed him a medium one.
“Compromise.”
⸻
Once everyone finally sat down — or at least stopped moving long enough to eat — the kitchen doors opened again.
Two attendants carried in the dessert.
Conversation stopped immediately.
In the center of the table, they set down an eight-tiered tower of cupcakes, each layer decorated differently. One side shimmered in deep blues and silvers, tiny stars and planets scattered across the frosting. The other was covered in greens and golds, leaves, flowers, and butterflies curling around the edges of each tier.
Funfetti on one side.
Oreo on the other.
Kylo’s eyes went wide.
“Stars!”
Zyon pointed.
“Bugs!”
Khari laughed.
“That is the coolest cake ever.”
“It’s not a cake,” Shanelle said. “It’s better.”
Ellie clapped like she had personally approved the design.
Marquise looked at the tower, then at the twins, then back at the tower again.
“…You’re never going to sleep tonight.”
“They weren’t going to sleep anyway,” Eleanor said.
“That’s true.”
⸻
Shanelle nodded toward one of the attendants, who stepped forward carrying a small velvet tray.
The room quieted almost immediately.
Kylo noticed first.
“What that?”
Zyon tilted his head.
“Shiny.”
Marquise stood, picking up one of the small crowns, turning it in his hands for a moment before looking at his sons.
“In Cordonia,” he said, his voice softer now, “it is tradition that every heir receives a new crown on their birthday.”
Kylo blinked.
“For me?”
“For both of you.”
Zyon climbed out of his chair immediately.
“I want mine.”
Khari nudged him back toward the table.
“You have to let Daddy do it.”
Marquise knelt in front of them, holding the first crown.
“You ready?”
Kylo nodded hard.
“Yes.”
He placed the crown carefully on Kylo’s head, adjusting it until it sat straight.
Then he picked up the second and set it gently on Zyon.
“There.”
Shanelle stepped closer, resting a hand on each boy’s shoulder.
“Our boys,” she said softly. “Three years old already.”
Marquise looked at them for a long moment before speaking again.
“You fill these halls with more noise than the entire council,” he said, a smile breaking through.
“And more chaos than the royal guard.”
Everyone laughed.
He rested his hands on their shoulders.
“And we would not change a single second of it.”
Shanelle nodded, her voice warm.
“You are our joy. Our blessing. And the reason this palace never stays quiet for long.”
Kylo lifted his cupcake.
“I love everybody.”
Zyon lifted two.
“I love cupcakes.”
Ellie squealed and reached for frosting.
Marquise laughed.
“Yes,” he said. “We can tell.”
By the time the last of the dishes had been cleared and the final cupcake wrapper thrown away, the palace had finally begun to quiet.
The children had fallen asleep faster than anyone expected, worn out from a day that had started with school, continued through go-karts, and ended with more sugar than Shanelle was willing to count. One by one, the halls emptied, the laughter fading into the soft, familiar stillness that only came late at night.
Marquise lingered longer than everyone else.
He always did on days like this.
He stood in the corridor outside the twins’ rooms, the dim lights along the wall casting long shadows across the floor. The door to Kylo’s room was cracked open just enough for him to see the faint glow of the night lamp inside, the small shape under the blankets barely moving.
He pushed the door open a little farther, careful not to make a sound.
Kylo was sprawled sideways across the bed, one arm wrapped around Pyro, the new crown sitting crooked on the nightstand where he had insisted on keeping it before falling asleep.
Marquise smiled to himself.
“You lasted longer than I thought you would,” he murmured.
He eased the door closed and stepped across the hall to the next room.
Zyon’s door was open.
He was asleep on his stomach, one hand still clutching the edge of the blanket, the other resting near the pillow where his crown sat beside him like something he didn’t quite trust yet but didn’t want too far away.
Marquise leaned against the doorframe for a moment, just watching.
Three years.
It felt like yesterday they had been small enough to fit in one arm.
He let out a slow breath and pulled the door closed gently.
The hallway was quiet again.
Too quiet.
He stood there for a long moment, hands in his pockets, eyes drifting down the corridor toward the far end of the palace.
He hadn’t planned on going anywhere else tonight.
He had planned on going to bed.
He had planned on letting the day end where it was supposed to.
But the feeling wouldn’t leave.
He turned without thinking and started walking.
Down the hall.
Past the main staircase.
Past the doors that led toward the older wing of the palace.
His footsteps slowed as the stone beneath his shoes changed, the air cooler here, quieter, the kind of quiet that felt older than the building itself.
He stopped at the entrance to the family crypt.
For a moment, he just stood there.
Then he pushed the door open.
The door closed softly behind him, the sound echoing faintly against the stone walls before the silence settled again.
The Rys family crypt was always colder than the rest of the palace, the air still and heavy with the kind of quiet that never truly left. The lights along the walls burned low, just enough to see the rows of markers set into the stone, each one a name, a date, a piece of the family that had come before him.
Marquise walked slowly, his hands in his pockets, his steps familiar without needing to think about where he was going.
He hadn’t been down here in a while.
Not because he couldn’t.
Because some days it was easier not to.
He stopped in front of the same marker he always stopped at.
Small.
Simple.
Older than it should have been.
The engraving hadn’t changed.
Baby Boy Rys.
2016.
His jaw tightened slightly as he looked at it, his thumb brushing absently against the edge of the stone.
“Levi Sebastian Rys,” he said quietly.
The name felt different out loud.
Stronger.
Real.
“We finally got around to it,” he murmured. “Only took us nine years.”
He let out a slow breath, shaking his head once.
“You should’ve been upstairs today.”
You've reached the end of Part One.
Here is Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six
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He gets on my nerves because why does he age like fine wine?! If I didn't believe in not getting arrested for indecent exposure, I’d fuck him in the ring.
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