Peace, however brief, returned to Faeloria after the Obsidian Covenant's exposure. Serenil used the calm to focus on something far more complex than war—his future wives.
That evening, the royal garden was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight and floating spirit-lanterns. Serenil had arranged private moments with each of them—away from watchful eyes and heavy politics.
First came Astarotte.
They sat beneath the moonflowers, the silence between them filled with quiet tension.
"You didn't have to come to the Mistborne Ruins," Serenil said.
Astarotte looked away. "I didn't come for duty. I came because I… wanted to see you fight. I wanted to see your soul."
He reached for her hand—cold and graceful—and laced his fingers through hers. Her lips trembled, then softened.
"If you want to stay by my side," he said, "you don't have to keep your heart locked away."
"I'll try," she whispered. "But I can't promise I won't hurt you."
"I'll take that risk."
Then Piglette.
She waited at the koi pond, feeding the fish gently. Serenil approached with quiet steps.
"I don't deserve your kindness," he said. "But I crave it."
She smiled, the softest thing in the world. "Then take it. I have more than enough."
They didn't speak much after that. Just shared a peaceful silence, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. A bond formed, unspoken but powerful.
Later, Liselotte.
She had turned the entire royal bath into a playroom—floating on a bubble with her hair soaked and twinkling under candlelight.
"Serenil! I saved you a bubble seat!" she chirped.
He laughed, pulling off his cloak and stepping in beside her.
"I like it when you laugh," she said suddenly. "You're always so serious… but I can tell your heart's really warm."
She poked his chest. "Like a jellyfish, but not slimy."
He chuckled again.
"Stay silly, Liselotte. I need that."
She grinned, flopping dramatically against him. "Only for you, Prince Serious!"
And finally, Roanna.
She had set up an elaborate tea ceremony—books stacked around her, candles flickering like red stars.
"You always seem in control," Serenil said.
Roanna poured his cup. "Control is the illusion I offer others. The truth is—I'm scared, Serenil. Of what it means to belong to someone."
He gently tilted her chin. "Then let's belong to each other. No fear."
Roanna's smile was small but genuine. "I'd like that."