Moonlight streamed through the palace conservatory's high arched windows, casting silver paths on the floor. The coolness of early spring was tempered by the warmth of the crackling fire. Vines of flowers curled over the latticed ceiling, and outside, a nightingale began its soft, melodic song.
Charlotte sat huddled on a soft chaise, a blanket draped across her knees, with a steaming mug of honeyed milk before her. Her curls were still damp from her bath, her cheeks flushed—more from the memory of her fevered confession than any lingering illness.
Elias sat on the rug next to her, leaning back against the couch, absently cleaning his sword. He hadn't said much since earlier, but he remained nearby. Too near. Not near enough.
In the distance, Amelia sprawled on a pile of pillows, her lap propped beneath a half-asleep Eladin, who was still energetically recounting his dragon theories. Amelia lazily braided his silky hair, humming a soft tune.
Mira stood nearby, leaning against the wall, wrapped in a knitted shawl, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. She signed gently:"This is a dream. A good one."
Charlotte smiled, her voice soft. "If it is, I don't want to wake."
Amelia whispered, "You almost didn't get to say that."
Eladin shifted, grumbling sleepily, "No sad talk. I'm not asleep yet."
"Of course you're not," Amelia teased, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. "You're just power-napping with style."
Eladin muttered a half-asleep protest. "Charlotte's my sister. If anyone tries to take her again, I'll call on the Royal Dragon myself."
Charlotte stroked his hair, ruffling it affectionately. "Thank you, brave prince."
"I'm not a prince yet," he grumbled, eyes closing at last. "But when I am… you'll be my general."
Amelia's fingers stilled in his hair as she gazed up at Charlotte, her eyes warm.
Mira sighed softly, "He dreams big. Takes after you."
Elias chuckled, his voice low and teasing. "Except he's louder. And not nearly as subtle."
Charlotte arched a brow at him. "Are you saying I'm subtle?"
"I'm saying you admitted you liked me while you were delirious," he replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And then had everyone vow to keep it a secret the next morning."
Charlotte's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "You swore!"
Mira pretended to zip her lips shut, while Amelia couldn't contain her laughter, ending up in a fit of wheezing into a pillow.
Elias's tone shifted then, gentler, more sincere. "I think you're wonderful," he said quietly. "Sick or not. Confession or not."
Charlotte met his eyes. The flickering firelight softened their usual sharpness, making them seem tired but undeniably earnest.
"You're not the only one who's scared," he added, his voice dropping low. "But I'll be here. Until the end, if that's what it takes."
Mira's hand slipped into Charlotte's, a simple gesture of quiet support.
Amelia leaned her head against Charlotte's shoulder, her voice a soft murmur. "We're all here."
The silence that followed was thick with warmth, with love, and with the unspoken understanding that, no matter what the future held, they would face it together.
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance—a storm still days away.
Inside, five souls sat together, wrapped in the rare peace of the moment, bound by laughter, loyalty, and the quiet knowledge that whatever came next, they would face it together.