Crowned (Santa Catalina University)

Epilogue

Aerwyna is now thriving.

The kingdom that once lay in ruins is alive again. The streets, once silent and shattered, now hum with life. Children’s laughter echoes through the market squares, merchants call out their wares, and the air carries the scent of fresh bread, blooming flowers, and the faint tang of salt from the sea.

I stand on the balcony of the restored palace, gazing out over the kingdom. The golden glow of the sunrise washes over Aerwyna, painting the buildings and cobblestone streets in warm hues. The land is healing, and so are its people. The scars of war will never fully fade, but in their place, resilience and unity have taken root.

The gardens below are in full bloom, the vibrant colours of jasmine, wild mint, and honeysuckle blending together in a fragrant symphony. The palace itself, once battered and broken, stands proud again, its polished stone and intricate carvings a testament to the strength of those who rebuilt it.

Behind me, the sound of tiny, giggling footsteps draws my attention. I turn just in time to see three small figures race into the garden, their bright laughter filling the air. My daughters. Swiftly followed by their Aunty Summer. She loves those girls more than life itself and we wouldn’t be without her.

Rhea, the eldest by just a few minutes, is already leading the way, her dark curls bouncing as she runs ahead, her little fists clutching a wooden sword. She’s bold and fearless, her spirit so fierce it takes my breath away sometimes. Even now, she’s pretending to defend the palace, her determined cries of “For Aerwyna!” making me laugh softly.

Lyra follows close behind, her quieter nature evident even now. Her movements are graceful, her wide, observant eyes taking in everything around her. She stops to look at a flower growing in one of the pots, examining it carefully before picking it and tucking it into her curls. Lyra may not speak as loudly as Rhea, but her presence is just as powerful – like a steady, grounding force.

And then there’s Artemis, my youngest, her wild energy as untamed as the goddess she’s named after. She’s chasing after a butterfly now, her silvery laughter carrying up to me. Artemis is always a kind of joy I never thought I’d experience.

They are my everything – my daughters, my legacy, my hope for the future. Each of them carries a piece of me, of us, and of Aerwyna itself. They are the embodiment of what we’ve fought for, what we’ve built from the ashes.

A deep voice breaks through my thoughts. “Rhea’s going to lead an army before she’s ten.”

I glance to my left and find Vance standing beside me, his arms crossed as he watches the girls. His sharp features soften as a rare smile tugs at his lips. “She’s relentless,” he adds, his tone filled with pride. “I see so much of you in her.”

“She’s bold,” I reply, leaning into his warmth as his arm slips around my waist. “But I think she gets her tactical mind from you.”

His smile grows as he presses a kiss to my temple. “We’ll call it a joint effort.”

Behind us, Bhodi strolls out onto the balcony, an apple in his hand and his grin as wide as ever. “I think Artemis is the troublemaker to watch,” he says, taking a bite and nodding toward the youngest, who has now climbed onto a low garden wall and is yelling about slaying dragons. “She’s got that wild streak, like someone else I know.”

I shake my head, but I can’t help laughing. “She’s curious. That’s not the same as wild.”

Bhodi winks. “Keep telling yourself that, Queenie. Give it a few years, and she’ll be sneaking off into the woods to ‘explore.’ Mark my words.”

“She’ll have a guard detail if she tries,” Vance mutters, though there’s no real edge to his words. These men of mine take being overprotective to a whole new level when it comes to the girls in their lives, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Reef joins us next, quieter but no less present. He leans against the railing, his eyes fixed on Lyra, who is still carefully collecting flowers. “She’s going to be a healer,” he says softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “I can see it already. The way she notices everything, how gentle she is with the world around her. She’s special, Malia. They all are.”

“They are,” I whisper, my chest tightening with emotion. “And they’re ours.”

Cove’s laughter echoes as he kneels to catch Artemis, who launches herself into his arms without hesitation. Cove is as attentive and kind as ever, his patience endless when it comes to the girls. Rhea rushes over to him next, waving her wooden sword, and he pretends to surrender, making them both dissolve into giggles.

“I don’t know how he does it,” I say, watching him with a smile as Cove rounds them up ready to lead them off to the garden.

Bhodi smirks. “Pure charm, obviously. He’s everyone’s favourite.”

“Maybe,” I reply. “But you’re all their heroes. Every one of you.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them sinking in. These men – they’ve been my strength, my family, my partners in rebuilding not just Aerwyna, but a life worth living. They’ve given me everything, and I can only hope I’ve done the same for them.

I step away from the railing and turn to face them, the love I feel for each of them nearly overwhelming. “I need you to know,” I say, my voice steady but thick with emotion, “how much you mean to me. To us. None of this – none of it – would have been possible without you.”

Vance is the first to respond, his hand reaching for mine. “You’ve given us just as much, Malia. You’ve made us better. Stronger. You’ve given us a family, a purpose. And I’ll spend the rest of my life protecting what we’ve built together.”

Bhodi steps forward next, his grin softening into something more vulnerable. “You’re stuck with us, Queenie. Forever. We’ve been through hell, but look where we are now. Look what we’ve got. I’m not going anywhere.”

Reef nods, his quiet intensity cutting through the moment. “You’re our heart, Malia. This family doesn’t work without you. And no matter what comes next, we’ll face it together. Always.”

Cove, holding Artemis in one arm and Rhea tugging at his free hand, smiles at me, his warmth as steady as ever. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us,” he says simply. “And these girls…they’re proof of everything we’ve fought for. They’re our future, Malia. And so are you.”

Tears prick my eyes as I look at each of them, my heart so full it feels like it might burst. “I love you,” I say, my voice breaking slightly. “All of you. And I’ll never stop fighting for us. For this family. And for Aerwyna.”

The moment stretches between us, filled with unspoken promises and the kind of love that can’t be put into words.

From inside Rhea calls out, waving her wooden sword triumphantly. “Mama! Come play!”

I laugh, wiping my tears as I head toward the stairs. “Duty calls,” I say over my shoulder, earning a chorus of chuckles from the men.

As I step into the garden, Lyra places a flower crown on my head, her small hands careful but confident. “You’re the prettiest queen,” she declares, her voice solemn.

“Thank you, my love,” I say, kneeling to kiss her forehead.

Artemis grabs my hand, tugging me toward the garden wall. “Mama, come see! There’s a butterfly!”

I follow her, my heart swelling with every moment I spend with them. These girls – Rhea, Lyra, Artemis – they are my greatest joy, my greatest accomplishment. And as I watch them play, their laughter echoing through the garden, I know that everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve fought for, has been worth it.

As the sun rises over Aerwyna, casting the sky in pastel hues of gold and pinks, I stand with my family – my daughters, my loves – and I know one thing for certain: we’ve built a future worth living for. And together, we will make it brighter than the stars themselves.

The garden is alive with the sound of laughter.

I’m flat on my back in the grass, watching as Rhea charges toward me, her wooden sword raised high. I can barely hold in my grin as she lets out a battle cry that’s more fierce than most of the warriors I’ve met. “Prepare to meet your doom, Baba Bhodi!”

“Oh, no! Not my doom!” I shout dramatically, flinging my arms up as though I’m already defeated. I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding a playful strike.

Rhea stumbles but doesn’t lose her momentum. “For Aerwyna!” she declares again, swiping at my legs as I scramble to get up.

“I surrender!” I say, holding up my hands in mock defeat. “You win, Commander Rhea.”

She stands over me triumphantly, puffing her chest out. “I knew it,” she says, her voice filled with pride. “I’ll be a queen who leads armies one day.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I say, chuckling as I sit up, brushing the grass off my shirt. “You’ve got the heart of a warrior.”

Meanwhile, Lyra is off to the side, quietly arranging flowers she’s picked from the garden, her little hands moving with such care. She looks up every now and then, offering me a soft smile. “I’m making a bouquet for Mama,” she says, her voice soft and thoughtful. “I think she’ll like it.”

“Lyra,” I say gently, “you’re going to make her day with that bouquet. She’ll love it.”

Lyra nods seriously, turning back to her task. The calm and thoughtful way she moves always reminds me of Malia – strong and graceful, even in the quiet moments.

Artemis, of course, is another story entirely.

I spot her on the other side of the garden, chasing after a butterfly with wild abandon. She jumps and twirls, arms outstretched, her laughter ringing out like music. “I’m going to catch it, Baba Bhodi!” she shouts, her voice filled with pure joy.

“You’ve got this, Artemis!” I cheer, watching her with a smile. I can’t help but laugh as she trips over her own feet but springs right back up, never slowing down. She’s a force of nature, and I can see that no one will ever be able to stop her from chasing what she wants.

I roll to my feet and stroll over to her, gently scooping her up in my arms as she continues to reach for the butterfly, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s now suspended in midair.

“Gotcha!” I say with a grin, lifting her up high.

“Nooooooo!” she wails dramatically, but her eyes are sparkling with laughter.

“I’m the butterfly now!” I declare, spinning in a circle with her in my arms, earning another shriek of delighted protest.

“Baba Bhodi,” she giggles, “you’re so silly.”

“I’m not silly,” I protest, giving her a mock glare. “I’m serious about protecting my butterflies.”

Her response is a grin that could light up the world. “Okay, Baba Butterfly.”

I set her down gently, and she runs back around the garden, already searching for the next butterfly to chase. I shake my head, grinning.

It’s moments like these – these simple, joyful, wild moments – that remind me why I’ve fought so hard. For the kingdom. For Malia. For this family.

I glance toward Malia, who is standing by the great oak tree, watching us with a smile on her face. Her eyes lock with mine, and I give her a grin of my own. She’s the one who brought all of us together, who rebuilt this kingdom from the ground up.

As I look back at Rhea and Artemis, who are now teaming up against imaginary enemies, I feel my heart swell. This is the life I’ve chosen. This is the life I’ll fight for. Forever.

The scent of roasted herbs and honeyed bread fills the dining room, mingling with the sound of laughter and the clatter of dishes. The long oak table is filled with platters of food, glowing softly under the warm candlelight. This isn’t a feast for the court, or one of Malia’s grand events – it’s something far better. It’s just us.

Rhea is the first to speak. She’s always the first to do anything. “Papi Reef, can I have another roll, please?” she asks, her eyes wide with determination.

I raise an eyebrow and look at the stack of bread already piled on her plate. “Rhea, are you sure you’ve got room? That’s your third one.”

“I’m in training,” she says with utmost seriousness, her small hands gripping the edge of the table like she’s ready to launch into a debate. “I need strength to fight Baba Bhodi tomorrow.”

A low chuckle rumbles from across the table, where Bhodi shakes his head. “You’ll need more than bread for that, little warrior.”

Rhea narrows her eyes at him, but before she can retort, I slide another roll onto her plate. “All right, Commander. But no complaining about a bellyache later.”

“I won’t,” she promises, her face lighting up.

On my left, Lyra picks at her food, humming softly to herself. She’s been arranging the vegetables on her plate into a neat little garden, complete with rows of carrots and potatoes. “Papi Reef, do you think Mama will like my bouquet?” she asks, her voice quiet but hopeful.

I glance at the delicate arrangement of flowers she’s placed beside her plate, their colours bright and cheerful. “She’ll love it,” I say, smiling at her. “You’ve got a perfect circle.” Her tiny fingers are moving with deliberate care. She pauses to glance up at me, her wide, thoughtful eyes brimming with curiosity.

“Papi Reef,” she says softly, “do you think the moon can see us?”

Her question takes me by surprise, but I smile, leaning closer to her. “I think the moon sees everything, Lyra,” I reply, my voice low and steady. “And I think it shines a little brighter when it sees you.”

She beams at me, her small hands folding neatly in her lap. “I hope it’s happy,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It is,” I assure her, brushing a loose curl from her face. “How could it not be?”

Across the table, Artemis is giggling uncontrollably, her laughter rising in pitch as Papa Cove pretends to wrestle a roast chicken leg onto her plate. “It’s too big!” she squeals, kicking her legs under the table.

“It’s just the right size for a fierce little hunter like you,” Cove replies, his voice filled with mock seriousness.

She puffs out her chest, taking the leg in both hands and waving it triumphantly. “I’m a dragon slayer!”

“Careful,” Malia interjects from her seat at the head of the table, her smile soft but her tone laced with warning. “Dragon slayers need to eat their vegetables too.”

Artemis wrinkles her nose but doesn’t argue. I watch as Malia reaches over to adjust the flower crown Lyra placed on her head. Even after everything she’s endured, she still carries herself with the grace and strength of a queen, but moments like this – quiet, warm, unguarded – are what make her shine brightest.

Bhodi leans back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs as he pops a grape into his mouth. “I’ll say this much, Queenie,” he teases, gesturing to the table. “You’ve raised some wild ones. Don’t be surprised if they overthrow you in a decade.”

“They can try,” Malia shoots back, a playful edge to her voice.

The table erupts in laughter, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world has melted away. There’s no palace, no court, no kingdom pressing down on our shoulders – just us, together, in this little bubble of joy.

I glance at Rhea, who’s now using her roll to “battle” the chicken leg on her plate. Lyra is whispering to the moon again, her food forgotten, while Artemis leans over to poke at Bhodi’s plate, earning an exaggerated gasp of protest from him.

This is what we fought for.

The triplets’ voices rise again, demanding our attention as they debate who’s going to “win dinner,” a concept Rhea has apparently just invented. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face as I watch them, their laughter and energy filling every corner of the room.

“Papi Reef?”

“Yes, little flower?” I whisper, brushing a curl from her forehead.

“Are we going to be happy forever?”

My throat tightens at the question, and I lean down to kiss her forehead. “Yes, Lyra. Forever and ever.”

Malia catches my eye across the table, and her smile softens into something more intimate. It’s a look I’ve come to know well – a mix of gratitude, love, and quiet strength.

I raise my glass to her, a silent toast, and she does the same.

The palace is quiet, save for the sound of splashing water and the occasional shriek of laughter coming from the bath. I sit on a small stool beside the tub, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, while three pairs of bright, mischievous eyes stare back at me.

Rhea, as usual, is leading the charge, her hands cupping water as she pretends to launch an “attack” at her sisters. Lyra lets out a quiet giggle, trying to dodge the splash, while Artemis retaliates by sending a wave of bubbles back toward Rhea with a triumphant yell.

“Careful,” I warn, my voice calm but firm. “If you get me soaked again, you’ll be drying off with a cold breeze instead of a towel.”

They ignore me, of course.

“Mama says you don’t mean that,” Rhea declares boldly, her little nose wrinkling in defiance.

She’s right, but I won’t admit it. “Your mama says a lot of things,” I reply, dipping my hands into the water to rinse the soap from Lyra’s curls.

Lyra sits patiently, her wide, thoughtful eyes watching me as I carefully run my fingers through her hair. She’s the easiest of the three at bath time, always calm and curious. She leans forward slightly, her voice soft. “Papa Cove, why do bubbles pop?”

“Because they’re fragile,” I answer, smiling as I rinse her hair one last time. “But that’s what makes them special. You have to enjoy them while they last.”

Lyra tilts her head, considering this, before nodding solemnly. “Like flowers.”

“Exactly like flowers,” I say, my heart swelling at her quiet wisdom.

Rhea, meanwhile, has climbed halfway out of the tub, a crown of bubbles perched precariously on her curls. “I’m the Queen of Aerwyna!” she declares, striking a dramatic pose that sends Artemis into a fit of giggles.

“You’re going to be the Queen of Falling if you’re not careful,” I mutter, scooping her back into the tub before she can slip. She pouts at me but allows it, her small hands splashing defiantly as I reach for a towel.

Artemis, the wildest of the three, has taken it upon herself to dunk her entire head under the water. She comes up sputtering and laughing, her curls plastered to her face, water dripping down her nose. “Did you see that, Papa Cove? I was a fish!”

“You were definitely something,” I reply, chuckling as I grab another towel.

By the time I’ve managed to get all three of them out of the tub and wrapped in towels, I’m soaked from the waist down, and the bathroom looks like it’s been hit by a small tsunami. Bubbles cling to the walls, puddles cover the floor, and Rhea has somehow managed to get soap in her eyebrows.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I tell them, earning three identical giggles in response.

Getting them dressed is another ordeal entirely. Rhea insists on wearing her “battle dress” to bed, which is really just a tunic she’s declared as armour. Lyra wants to know why the moon isn’t out yet and keeps wandering to the window to check, and Artemis refuses to wear anything at all until I promise to tell her a bedtime story.

Eventually, I wrangle them into their nightgowns and carry them, one by one, to the nursery. The room is warm and cozy, the soft glow of lanterns casting gentle shadows on the walls. Mobiles of stars and moons hang above their beds, spinning slowly in the faint breeze.

I tuck Lyra in first, smoothing the blanket over her small frame. She clutches a stuffed animal to her chest – a wolf that Reef got for her – and smiles sleepily at me. “Goodnight, Papa Cove,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

“Goodnight, my little flower,” I reply, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Rhea is next, her wooden sword still clutched tightly in one hand. “If any dragons come, I’ll protect us,” she says, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

“I’m sure you will,” I tell her, ruffling her curls. “But try to get some sleep in between battles, okay?”

She nods solemnly as I pull the blanket up to her chin. One of us will sneak in later and remove the sword from her bed once she’s asleep. There’s no point in even trying to wrestle it off her right now.

Finally, I turn to Artemis, who’s already half-asleep, her curls a wild halo around her face. She blinks up at me, her expression mischievous even in her exhaustion. “Will you tell me about the stars again?”

“Tomorrow,” I promise, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “For now, let them keep watch over you while you dream.”

As I step back, I feel a familiar warmth at my side. I turn to find Malia standing in the doorway, her smile soft as she looks at the girls.

“They’re perfect,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

“They are,” I agree, reaching for her hand. “Just like their mother.”

She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder as we watch our daughters settle. The world outside is still uncertain, still filled with challenges, but in this moment, everything feels right.

This is our life now. Our family. Our future.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The triplets are snug in their beds, their faces glowing with that warm, contented look only children can have after a long day of running wild. The air smells faintly of lavender from the sachets Malia insisted we tuck into their pillows, the scent meant to help them relax – not that these three ever seem to need help winding down.

When she sees me standing in the doorway, Rhea sits upright, her wooden sword balanced precariously against her knee. “What story are you telling us tonight, Daddy V?” she asks, her voice filled with authority, as if she’s the one in charge of bedtime.

“Something with dragons,” Artemis pipes up, her tiny fists gripping the blanket she’s half-kicked off. “Big, scary dragons that roar and breathe fire!”

“And flowers,” Lyra adds softly, her fingers playing with the edge of her blanket. “The story needs flowers, Daddy V.”

“Dragons and flowers, huh?” I say, pulling the chair closer to their bed and sitting down. My gaze sweeps over their faces, each one a perfect blend of mischief, wonder, and curiosity. “I think I can manage that.”

Rhea’s eyes narrow, clearly skeptical. “But it has to have a brave queen too. A queen who saves the day.”

I smirk, leaning forward. “You don’t think I know how to tell a good story, Commander Rhea?”

She huffs, crossing her arms. “You’re good, but you could be better.”

“Better than Baba Bhodi?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

That earns me a chorus of giggles. “No one’s sillier than Baba Bhodi,” Artemis declares, wrinkling her nose like she’s already won the argument.

I smirk and grab the worn leather book resting on the table beside me. It’s a collection of old Aerwynian tales – ones I grew up with, full of battles, heroes, and magic. But these days, the girls don’t want the stories as they’re written. They want them retold, reimagined, with queens and flower fields and heroes who remind them of people they know.

“Once upon a time,” I begin, my voice deep and steady, “in a kingdom surrounded by great mountains and endless forests, there lived a queen. She was the bravest queen the land had ever known, and she ruled her people with wisdom, kindness, and courage.”

“Like Mama!” Lyra whispers, a dreamy smile on her face.

“Exactly like Mama,” I say, my lips twitching into a soft smile. “But this queen had a problem. There was a dragon – a massive, fearsome beast with scales like molten gold and eyes that burned brighter than the sun. It guarded the kingdom’s most beautiful garden, a garden filled with magical flowers that could heal any wound.”

Lyra sighs happily, her head sinking deeper into her pillow.

“The queen needed those flowers,” I continue, my gaze flicking to Rhea, whose sword is now resting against her lap as she leans forward. “But she couldn’t defeat the dragon alone. So, she called upon her most trusted knights – four brave warriors, each with a special gift.”

“That’s us!” Artemis exclaims, pointing at herself and her sisters.

“Not quite,” I say, my tone teasing. “The knights weren’t little girls. They were strong, courageous, and?—”

“And just like you and Baba Bhodi and Papi Reef and Papa Cove!” Rhea interrupts, grinning triumphantly.

“Fine,” I concede with a chuckle. “Just like us. Now, the queen and her knights traveled to the dragon’s lair. The mountains were steep, the winds howled, and the path was filled with dangers, but they pressed on, never losing hope. When they finally reached the lair, the dragon roared so loudly that the ground shook beneath their feet.”

I pause for effect, letting out a low growl that makes Artemis squeal and bury her face in her blanket.

“But the queen wasn’t afraid,” I continue, lowering my voice to a near-whisper. “She stood tall, her knights by her side, and together, they faced the dragon. It wasn’t easy – the battle was fierce, and the dragon was strong – but the queen’s courage never faltered. And in the end, it was her kindness that saved the day.”

“Kindness?” Rhea repeats, frowning. “How does kindness stop a dragon?”

“She gave the dragon what it wanted most,” I say, my gaze settling on Lyra. “A garden of its own, filled with the most beautiful flowers the kingdom had ever seen. Flowers that only the dragon could tend to. And from that day on, the dragon stopped guarding the queen’s garden and started guarding its own.”

Lyra claps her hands together, her eyes sparkling. “That’s perfect!”

Rhea doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she lets out a yawn and snuggles deeper into the covers. “It’s okay,” she says grudgingly, her eyelids growing heavy. “But next time, more fighting.”

“Noted, Commander,” I reply, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead.

I tuck the blanket up to her chin before moving to Lyra and Artemis, placing gentle kisses on their foreheads as well. “Sleep well, little knights,” I murmur.

Lyra whispers something too quiet to hear, already half-asleep, while Artemis mumbles, “Night, Daddy V,” before letting out a tiny sigh.

As I rise from the chair, I glance toward the door, where Malia stands watching, her arms crossed and a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Nice save with the flowers,” she says quietly, stepping into the room.

“Thought you’d appreciate that,” I reply, brushing past her as I turn down the lanterns.

Together, we leave the nursery, the door clicking softly shut behind us. The house is quiet now, the weight of the day settling over everything. But in that silence, there’s peace.

Peace we’ve earned.

And as Malia slips her hand into mine, I know without a doubt that this is what I’ll protect for the rest of my life – her, our daughters, and the future we’ve fought so hard to build.

The nursery is quiet now, filled with the soft sound of steady breathing. I stand by the bed, gazing down at my daughters, their little faces glowing in the soft light of the moon streaming through the window.

Rhea is sprawled out like she’s conquered the entire bed. Lyra sleeps curled up like a cat. Artemis clings to her stuffed animal – a dragon Bhodi bought for her – her cheeks rosy and her curls wild even in sleep.

I lean down and press a kiss to each of their foreheads. Rhea stirs slightly, murmuring something about swords as I carefully slip hers out from under the blankets, while Lyra lets out a tiny sigh and snuggles deeper into her pillow. Artemis’s lips twitch into a sleepy smile as I tuck the stuffed dragon closer to her chest.

“Goodnight, my loves,” I whisper, brushing a curl from Lyra’s face. “Sweet dreams.”

I linger for a moment, my heart full as I watch them sleep. These quiet moments – these precious, fleeting moments – are worth every battle, every scar, and every sleepless night. They’re my greatest victory, my reason for everything.

I straighten slowly, careful not to wake them, and step back toward the door. With one last glance, I pull the door shut behind me, leaving it just slightly ajar so I can hear if they stir.

The hallway is dim, the lanterns casting a golden glow on the walls. The faint hum of conversation and the soft crackle of the fireplace drift toward me as I make my way to the sitting room. My steps are slow, and the weight of the day presses heavily on my shoulders, but I’m smiling.

When I enter, the sight that greets me is so ordinary and yet so perfect, that my chest tightens with warmth.

Bhodi is sprawled across one end of the sofa, one leg dangling over the armrest, his head tilted back as he stifles a yawn. Vance is seated upright in the middle, his arms stretched casually along the back of the sofa, but his sharp eyes soften the moment they land on me. Cove is at the other end, a tray balanced carefully in his hands, laden with snacks – cheese, fruit, and little chocolate tarts – and a steaming mug of tea. Reef sits cross-legged on the floor near the fire, whittling a piece of wood into something that already looks like one of Artemis’s dragons.

“Finally,” Bhodi drawls, sitting up and patting the empty cushion beside him. “I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there.”

“Not quite,” I say with a soft laugh, moving toward them. “But it was close.”

Cove meets me halfway, his eyes full of warmth as he hands me the mug of tea. “Thought you might need this,” he says, his voice gentle.

“You thought right,” I reply, wrapping my hands around the mug and taking a sip. It’s sweet and soothing, and I can feel the tension in my chest ease with the first sip.

Vance shifts slightly, patting the spot beside him. “Come here,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I set the mug on the tray and let him guide me down onto the sofa, his arm slipping around my shoulders as Bhodi swings my legs onto his lap.

“Long day?” Bhodi asks, already tugging off my slippers.

I let out a low hum of approval as his thumbs dig into the arch of my foot. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think we do,” Reef says from his spot by the fire, his tone teasing. “I’m still recovering from Artemis declaring war on me at dinner.”

“That’s because she knows you’re a soft target,” Bhodi quips, his grin widening as Reef throws a carved wood shaving in his direction.

“Focus,” Vance chides lightly, his fingers kneading the tight muscles in my shoulders. I sigh, melting into his touch, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.

Cove sits on the floor beside me, setting the tray within easy reach and offering me one of the chocolate tarts. “You barely ate at dinner,” he says, his brows furrowing slightly.

“I was too busy refereeing,” I say with a chuckle, taking the tart from him. “Thank you.”

He watches me until I take a bite, satisfaction flickering in his eyes when I let out a quiet moan of approval.

The room settles into a peaceful rhythm, the soft crackle of the fire and the murmur of quiet conversation weaving through the air. Bhodi keeps massaging my feet, his touch firm but soothing, while Vance works the tension from my shoulders. Reef hums softly as he continues carving, and Cove leans against the edge of the sofa, his hand resting lightly on my knee.

I glance around at each of them, my heart swelling with gratitude and love. These men – my men – have given me a life I never dared to dream of. A family. A home. Somewhere I belong.

“It’s moments like this,” I say softly, my voice carrying over the quiet, “that remind me how lucky I am.”

Vance’s hand pauses on my shoulder, and he leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “We’re the lucky ones, Malia,” he murmurs.

Bhodi grins, his hands pausing briefly on my feet as he winks at me. “Speak for yourself, Daddy V. I’m the luckiest of all.”

Reef snorts softly, shaking his head but saying nothing as he focuses on his carving.

Cove squeezes my knee gently, his smile warm. “You’re everything to us,” he says simply.

I lean back, letting their words wrap around me like the fire’s warmth. For the first time in what feels like forever, life feels balanced – imperfect, yes, but beautiful in its imperfection.

The kingdom will always need me, and there will always be battles to fight, decisions to make, and challenges to face. But right now, in this quiet moment, with the triplets safe and sound and my family around me, I feel like I’ve already won.