Epilogue #3
They were only fifteen, so this moment of connection wasn’t likely to lead to a lifelong bond.
But it was still adorable to see those sidelong glances, bashful expressions, and blushes.
Hopefully, by the end of the night, they’d get up the nerve to talk to one another.
They might even end up with a solid friendship.
“Let’s dance!” Tor said, pulling Pel into his arms. “I promise not to stare moodily at you the whole time.”
Pel melted into his arms, grinning. This was an oft-voiced promise thanks to their first dance together following the archery competition. Every dance since then had been so much better, but Tor liked to check frequently, just in case.
Pel had gotten a lot better at dancing as a result, and he had to admit that he enjoyed very much every time the dance brought him and Tor back together and Tor clasped Pel to him. He always looked fabulous when he was grinning and a little bit sweaty, after all.
As they swept past, Pel saw that Parex and Hern had made it a few steps closer to one another, but it didn’t look like they’d actually spoken yet.
“I could go talk to them,” Tor suggested.
Pel gave him a stern glare. “Leave them alone.”
“I wouldn’t meddle,” Tor said, with a smile Pel absolutely did not trust. “Much.”
Pel rolled his eyes as they were separated again by the steps of the dance.
All of the royals had agreed to promote unity within the United Realms by way of friendship and being good neighbors.
They’d committed not to force their children into any more political alliances (not even when the idea seemed adorable when you saw two rambunctious toddlers sharing snacks with one another).
It felt like these days, the royals were single-handedly responsible for increasing the population by an order of magnitude.
At the very least, they were ensuring there was plenty of travel between the realms, because there was always a naming ceremony or a bonding ceremony or a birthday or some sort of event.
Stronex and the Vayrin queens were the only rulers left who’d ruled through the war. Stronex was almost a decade younger than they were—and now that he’d bonded with Ada, he was having children with all the rest of them.
Queen Sillexa had just turned sixty, and Margexa was less than a year behind her. They’d assured everyone that their child-bearing days were behind them and they were enjoying their time as grandparents. Somila, visibly pregnant with her second child, was currently dancing with Gornexi.
On the sidelines, Rin was currently holding Kima upside down by her ankles, which she seemed to think was awesome, probably because Tor had done it to Shara earlier.
Ferna was seated by the wall, cradling baby Pren while Var chased after their daughter. Pama was next to her, gently patting Ber’s back as she held him to her shoulder.
Lara and Marwa had been married for just over two years now.
They were one of the only new couples who didn’t have children yet, but Pel had caught the longing looks directed at the array of children around them, and he was sure it was only a matter of time now—even if they needed to talk to Varex to get a magical blessing to enable the pregnancy.
Pel had never seen his sister so happy, and she and Marwa were practically single-handedly responsible for half the traffic between Tond and Bessar with their constant back and forths together.
They weren’t ready to settle in either castle, and because they now had understanding rulers who cared about their happiness, no one was making them.
They weren’t even bothering to fully participate in the dance, just standing on the sidelines and swaying vaguely in time to the music, Lara’s head tucked into Marwa’s shoulder.
Stronex was somehow managing to participate in the dance while carrying Frin on his shoulders, and Ada was laughing gaily as she made the moves of the dance work without being able to clasp her husband’s arms. (She’d confessed to Tor and Pel earlier that she was pregnant with their second child.)
Seriously. There hadn’t been this many children and this much travel between the realms…
possibly ever. Pel was delighted by what they’d created together—and the petty part of him hoped that Nostex and Yomil and Pel’s father were rolling in their graves at the unity they’d inadvertently helped create.
This naming ceremony was the perfect example.
There were royals and common citizens alike.
There was food and drink and dancing, and everyone was enjoying themselves because when you treated people well and didn’t expect them to work every moment of the day, they were happier and more productive.
Giving people something to work for and care about made a significant difference.
It wasn’t perfect. Not everyone agreed about the citizens’ council, and there were still those who grumbled about the exiles being included in the United Realms once again. But most people were prospering, and that tended to lessen the complaints.
The lack of restrictions between Torpel and the other realms meant that there was trade and visitors and even some people who chose to stay.
There had been more than one family or group of friends who’d been separated by the peace accords when the exiles had been banished to this side of the mountain.
Tor, Pel, and Bav had taken great pleasure in dismantling that.
Bav had also happily ceded shared mining rights back to Torpel, so both groups were allowed to mine on their own side of the mountain.
They’d been able to fix so much together. They still had to pay attention to taxes and coffers and all of that, but being prudent and not greedy went a long way. Being strategic and fixing things right away—or doing them right to begin with!—also helped a lot.
Honestly, Pel wondered sometimes what his father had spent so much money on. Alcohol? Or had he actually been helping to fund Nostex and his plans? Too much money had gone to the mines and paying people off to manage the exiles forced there against their will.
Pel shook the thought off. They’d put a stop to all of that, and they had citizens’ councils now precisely so that it would be harder for something like that to happen in the future.
They’d held their first realms-wide archery and sword competition this past summer, and it had been a resounding success.
Tond had hosted the inaugural event, and each realm would take a turn. Torpel was going last in the hopes that the castle would be finished and they could actually house everyone.
They had a common goal. A willingness to help one another. A desire for everyone to prosper, not just a mighty few.
Pel had never envisioned a future like this.
He’d never envisioned a man like Tor. Or a family that would stick with him through thick and thin.
And yet here they all were. Tor’s arms slipped around Pel’s waist, holding him close, and Pel refocused on him, on the connection that sprang up whenever they were together.
“Think we can sneak out of here yet?” Tor asked.
Pel’s lips curved into a grin. “We can definitely try.”
He’d never been happier, and he couldn’t wait to see what they managed to accomplish next.