Morning arrived gently over the royal capital.
The air carried a quiet chill, mixed with a strange kind of excitement that seemed to drift through the palace grounds. Golden sunlight filtered through the tall garden trees, painting the marble paths in soft light.
Standing near the upper garden fountain was Lyria.
She was no longer the shy fourteen-year-old girl she once had been.
Now eighteen, she had grown into someone graceful and composed. Her posture carried the dignity of royalty, yet whenever Aerion crossed her mind… that same old softness returned to her eyes.
In her hand, she held a small silver pendant — the one Aerion had given her four years ago, the day they promised they would never let go of each other's hands… no matter what the world became.
"Two months…" she whispered to herself.
Just two months left until she would officially become his wife.
Her name would change.
Her home would change.
But her heart… had already chosen long ago.
Soft footsteps approached from behind.
"And what is the princess thinking about so early in the morning?"
That voice.
Her heart recognized it instantly.
Lyria turned.
Aerion stood there.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Calm.
Over the past four years, his presence had sharpened into something naturally commanding. Training had carved discipline into his movements… yet whenever he stood before Lyria, the intensity in his eyes always softened.
"When did you get here?" Lyria asked.
"Right around the time you started missing me."
"I was not missing you!"
"Really?" Aerion raised a brow. "Then why were you staring at my pendant like that?"
A faint blush spread across her cheeks.
"Aerion…"
He stepped closer.
Very close.
For a moment, it felt as if the garden itself had gone still — as if time politely stepped back to give them space.
"Are you nervous?" he asked gently.
Lyria hesitated.
"I'm excited… but yes. A little."
"About what?"
"After the marriage… everything will change, won't it?"
Aerion reached forward and took her hand.
His grip was warm. Steady. Certain.
"One thing will never change."
"What?"
"The way I feel about you."
The words were simple.
But they landed directly in her heart.
Slowly, Lyria rested her head against his chest.
In the distance, the fountain continued its soft rhythm. Birds chirped lazily in the morning light. And in the middle of it all stood two people who had already found home in each other.
• Afternoon — Sword Training Grounds
Steel cut cleanly through the air.
Aerion moved with precision — each strike controlled, each step grounded. Four years of relentless training had shaped him into something far more formidable than before.
Yet today… his focus wasn't entirely on the blade.
Because at the edge of the training grounds…
Lyria was watching him.
Over the past four years, she had mastered diplomacy, court etiquette, and political strategy. She carried herself like a true royal now.
But when she watched Aerion train…
The admiration in her eyes was impossible to hide.
With one final clean strike, Aerion lowered his sword.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," Lyria replied innocently.
"…Liar."
She smiled.
Walking toward him, she gently lifted a cloth and wiped the faint sweat from his forehead.
"You're overtraining again."
"I need to protect you," Aerion said calmly.
"You really think I need protection?"
A small smirk touched his lips.
"Everyone does. Some people just don't admit it."
Suddenly, Lyria grabbed his collar and pulled him slightly closer.
"Mr. Future Husband…" she said softly, eyes glinting,
"don't underestimate me."
For a brief second, Aerion looked genuinely surprised.
Then impressed.
"Never," he murmured.
They held each other's gaze.
Then—
Lyria leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
Aerion froze.
"…This is a public place," he said slowly.
"Even warriors deserve rewards."
Aerion gently lifted her chin.
"If I'm getting rewarded…"
This time—
Lyria didn't start the kiss.
Aerion did.
Soft. Slow. Careful.
The world around them seemed to blur.
There was no rush.
No awkwardness.
Only the quiet certainty of two hearts already intertwined.
• Evening — Palace Balcony
The sky shifted from orange to deep violet as evening settled over the capital.
Lyria stood at the balcony railing when Aerion quietly approached from behind.
"The wedding preparations have started," he said.
"…I have gown trials tomorrow."
"Nervous?"
She glanced sideways. "Are you?"
For the first time, Aerion went quiet.
"…Yeah."
Lyria blinked in surprise.
"You?"
He looked out toward the horizon.
"What if… I can't become someone worthy of you?"
The words were low.
Honest.
Unexpected.
Lyria immediately turned toward him and took both his hands firmly in hers.
"Aerion… for the past four years, you didn't just grow stronger. You rebuilt yourself — not just for power… but to stand beside me."
Her voice softened.
"I'm already yours."
The evening wind grew cooler.
Aerion slowly pulled her into his arms.
This hug was tighter.
Deeper.
Like a promise without words.
"Two months…" he whispered.
"…Then officially," she replied.
"Then officially."
Lyria buried her face lightly against his shoulder.
"Promise me something."
"What is it?"
"No matter what happens — Sylvaris, unknown threats, politics… anything…"
She looked up at him.
"We choose each other first."
Aerion didn't hesitate even for a second.
"Always."
• Night — Private Garden
Moonlight shimmered across the lake's surface.
They walked quietly side by side.
Some moments didn't need words.
Lyria suddenly stopped.
"Aerion… what if the world ended tomorrow?"
"…You're being dramatic."
"Answer me."
He gently cupped her face in his hands.
"Then I would spend my last moment looking at you."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
"…Why?"
"Because you are my peace."
Silence fell between them.
Soft.
Fragile.
Then Lyria whispered—
"Aerion…"
"Hm?"
"I love you."
For the first time…
She said it clearly.
Fully.
Aerion closed his eyes briefly.
Then answered softly—
"I love you too."
This kiss was deeper.
Warmer.
Filled with everything they hadn't said over the years.
Under the moonlight…
Their shadows finally became one.
• Night Remembered Them
Two months remain until the wedding.
The kingdom celebrates.
Preparations begin.
But above all that—
On a quiet balcony stand two eighteen-year-olds who have crossed the distance between childhood and forever.
And very soon…
Their forever will begin.