Chapter 21 Valas #2
"Don't apologize. Never apologize for this." I stroke her hair, press kisses to the top of her head. "You're free, Keira. Completely free. Those papers mean you can go anywhere, do anything. No one owns you. Not legally, not technically, not in any way that matters."
She pulls back enough to look at me, tears tracking through the flour dust on her cheeks. "Why?"
"Because I love you." The words come easily now, natural as breathing. "I love you and I'd give you anything—everything I have to give. This was the one thing I could do to prove that you're not property to me. That you never were and never will be."
Her laugh sounds strangled, caught between crying and something that might be joy. "You're an idiot."
"Frequently." I cup her face in my hands, thumbs wiping away tears. "But an idiot who loves you. An idiot who wants you to choose this—choose us—because you want to, not because some piece of parchment says you have to."
"I choose you." The words come out fierce, certain. "I choose you, Valas. I chose you before the papers and I choose you now and I'll choose you tomorrow and every day after that."
"Good." I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
She kisses me properly then, hard and desperate and tasting of salt and flour and the sweetness that's entirely her own. When we break apart, she's smiling through the tears, radiant in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Thank you." She clutches the papers against her chest like they're the most precious thing she's ever held. "Thank you for seeing me. For—for everything."
"You don't have to thank me for treating you like the extraordinary woman you are." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's just basic decency."
"Not in my experience." Her smile goes soft, tender. "You're different. You've always been different."
We sit like that for a while, wrapped around each other on the bench while the sun sinks lower and paints the sky in shades of copper and gold. The freedom papers rest between us, physical proof of something we both already knew but needed to make official.
She's free. We're free. Free to build this life however we want it, without contracts or ownership or anything but choice.
"Uncle Val! Keira!"
We break apart at the sound of Amisra's voice.
She comes tearing around the corner of the house, pale hair flying behind her like a banner, expression bright with excitement.
I open my arms and she launches herself at me without hesitation.
I catch her easily, pulling her up onto my lap while she wiggles with barely contained energy.
"How were your lessons, little bird?" I ask, settling her more comfortably.
"So good!" She bounces slightly. "Madam Renna taught me about numbers and I only got two wrong and she said I was very clever and—oh! Keira, we need to build more forts in the solarium! The ones from yesterday fell down but I have new ideas to make them stronger."
Keira laughs, reaching over to smooth Ami's rumpled hair. "We'll build whatever forts you want, sweet girl."
"The biggest fort ever! With towers and—and secret passages!" Amisra's hands gesture wildly as she describes her architectural vision. "And we can have tea parties inside and Uncle Val can be the dragon we have to defend against!"
"I'm the dragon?" I raise an eyebrow at her. "Why am I always the villain in these scenarios?"
"Because you're tall and you make funny growling noises." She states this like it's obvious. "Don't worry, you're a nice dragon. You just like to steal cookies."
"Well, that part's accurate." Keira gives me a pointed look that suggests she's noticed my tendency to raid whatever she bakes.
I grin at both of them—these two extraordinary people who've become my whole world.
Amisra chatters on about her fort plans, occasionally pausing to ask our opinions on structural integrity or whether dragons prefer chocolate or vanilla cookies.
Keira joins in with suggestions, her hand finding mine where it rests on the bench between us.
The freedom papers are still clutched in her other hand. Still real. Still meaning everything they represent.
This is happiness, I realize. Not the absence of grief—we still carry that, will always carry it—but the presence of something strong enough to exist alongside the pain. Love and laughter and ridiculous conversations about fictional dragons and structural engineering for blanket forts.
We still have work to do. Grief to process, memories to honor, futures to build.
In time—when Keira's ready, when we've both had space to simply exist together without the weight of contracts or loss defining us—I'll ask her to marry me properly.
To choose me not just for now but forever, in front of witnesses and gods and anyone who'll listen.
But not yet. Right now, this is enough. More than enough.
Right now, we're just a family sitting in the garden while the sun sets, planning elaborate blanket forts and debating dragon preferences, and choosing each other with every passing moment.
It's everything I never knew I wanted. Everything Daryn hoped we'd find.
And gods, it's good.