They honeymooned in Palawan—specifically, in a hidden lagoon accessible only to flying creatures.
Crystal waters. Limestone cliffs. Absolute privacy.
For the first time in years, Glad had no cameras, no interviews, no council meetings.
Just Ariel. Just the lagoon. Just peace.
"This is amazing," she breathed, floating on her back, wings spread like a raft.
"You're amazing." Ariel floated beside her, in human form but with ears occasionally popping up. "I could stay here forever."
"We have a week. Let's enjoy it."
They explored hidden caves, swam with magical fish that glowed in the dark, and ate fresh seafood prepared by a local duwende who'd set up a tiny restaurant just for them.
At night, they lay on the beach, watching stars that seemed closer than anywhere else.
"Ariel," Glad said quietly, "can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Do you ever think about the future? Like, really far future? Centuries from now?"
"Sometimes."
"What do you see?"
He considered this carefully. "I see us. Still together. Still annoying each other. Still flying over Dumaguete, watching the city change around us." He turned to look at her. "I see community growing, creatures thriving, humans accepting. And I see us at the center of it—not as leaders, necessarily. But as symbols. Proof that love lasts."
Glad smiled. "That's beautiful."
"You bring out the poet in me."
"The dog poet."
"The VERY dog poet."
They kissed under the stars, the sound of waves their only music.
Seven days passed too quickly.
But the memories would last centuries.