Epilogue Two
POE
“Even my demons fell in love with her.” — A
Y ears had passed, but our blue garden remained as enchanting as ever. The gothic rose garden had only grown more beautiful with time, the dark, twisting vines of roses now lush with deep cobalt petals, their fragrance intoxicating and comforting in the morning air. Azariel had added more sculptures, meticulously crafted and placed in among the roses, each one a breathtakingly perfect work of art.
I’m biased, I must admit.
The new sculptures are my favorites to look at when I spend my days here in the garden.
I stood beside Azariel, holding his hand as we watched our two-year-old son—our little devil with a heavenly smile—play in the garden. His tiny hands reached out to touch the delicate petals of the roses, and his sweet giggles filled the air, light and carefree. God, I love him— so much it hurts. Our baby boy looked so much like his father. In fact, he was a living, breathing copy of his Azariel—his gray eyes, the mischievous grin that never quite left his face, and the way his little frame seemed to move with a purpose, as if already plotting world domination.
He was perfect and ours.
Azariel chuckled softly beside me, his eyes never leaving our son. “He’s a miniature tyrant,” he said, his voice low and filled with love for his boy.
I smirked, raising an eyebrow as I watched our son crouch down and inhale the scent of a rose, his tiny nose scrunching up in delight. “That’s all you,” I teased, glancing at Azariel. “The sweet little devil already knows how to charm his way into trouble. That’s your son, alright.”
Azariel laughed. “He’s perfect…,” he said, his voice laced with wonder. “He’s already smarter than I was at his age.”
My heart aches hearing that. Azariel didn’t have the kind of start our son was blessed with. Love and joy found him when he was nine years old while our baby was made from love and a whole lot of magic.
I looked down at our son, his giggles drifting on the breeze. There was something so perfectly right about the way our family had turned out. The two of us, entwined in love, and now this little grumpy at times, ball of energy.
I was blessed with a mini version of the man I loved most in this life and every life that came before and follows.
The love I had once only written about had become my reality. And in our garden, surrounded by the sculptures Azariel had added for me and now for our son, I knew I had everything I’d ever secretly wanted. A love that could rival the ones written by genius men and women. A family that was unique and mine.
“Yeah,” I agreed, my voice soft, “he’s perfect.” Like you.
My husband’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close as we stood there, watching our son continue to explore the garden. I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
Our family was imperfect, unconventional at times, and yet—perfect in every way. And as I stood there, in the arms of the man I loved, with our sweet son giggling at the blue roses, I knew life couldn’t get better than this.
Then my baby caught my attention as I watched his antics. He was crouched low, his little hands resting on the ground now, eyes narrowing as he watched Allen and Prince strut past him in all their regal feline glory.
Without warning, our son hissed at them, a high-pitched, almost menacing sound, and then let out a laugh—one that sent shivers down my spine, a laugh so maniacal, it could’ve come straight out of one of Azariel’s darkest thoughts. He looked up at me, his face twisted into a grin that mirrored his father’s, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
Azariel chuckled beside me, his deep laugh vibrating in the air. “Well, looks like our little devil is living up to the family name,” he said, his gaze fixed on our son, still hissing and laughing as the cats scampered away in feigned terror.
I wiped away the tears from my eyes, still laughing at the sight of our boy causing chaos. “Yeah, definitely a mini you,” I teased, shaking my head.
Azariel’s grin softened as he looked at me, the warmth in his eyes replaced with something deeper, something that made my heart skip a beat.
“We did good,” he murmured, voice low and serious, but laced with so much pride. “Our boy will never know pain.”
I felt a chill run through me at his words. My gaze lingered on our son, his innocence glowing in the morning light, blissfully unaware of the world outside of this garden. “We can do our best to shield him from the world,” I said, my voice quiet, “but we can’t stop it from hurting him, baby.”
Azariel’s smile vanished, replaced by something darker—a glint of cold determination in his eyes. He turned to me, and his words came out like a promise, a vow. “I can,” he said, voice low and dangerous, each syllable weighted with intent. “I will burn it all down before it ever hurts him. No one and nothing will touch King. Not while there’s blood in my veins.”
His words hit me like a wave, and despite the intensity and darkness of them, I knew he meant every syllable. Azariel was a man who didn’t speak without purpose, and when it came to our son—our precious and beautiful King—he would destroy anything that stood in his way. He would tear down entire worlds and galaxies if that’s what it took to keep his boy safe and happy.
I stared into his eyes, the fire burning in those gray eyes I loved so much, and felt a shiver run down my spine. “I know,” I whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek gently. “I know there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to keep us safe.”
My husband’s expression softened, and he nodded, his cherry-red lips curling into a smile that was equal parts terrifying and loving. “Always, my Poetry,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re both mine. I’ll always keep you both safe.”
Of that, I didn’t have one single doubt.
Our little boy, oblivious to the weight of his father’s vow, giggled again, his high-pitched laugh carrying on the wind. Allen and Prince had long since disappeared into the shadows of the garden, leaving him to play undisturbed.
For now, everything was perfect—safe, and untouched by the ugly world outside our garden.
This was our forever.
“It was always you and me.” I whispered, kissing his lips softly. “And if the world ends, it will be just us.”
“Fuck, yeah, little fox.”