The reception unfolded beneath the open sky, lanterns of indigo and silver drifting like captured stars above the hill.
Music carried softly over the laughter, and the long tables were filled with warmth, clinking glasses, and the hum of voices finally unburdened by war.
When the hallmaster rang the chime, the noise eased.
Arasha and Kane stepped forward together.
Arasha spoke first, her voice steady yet bright, carrying easily across the gathered crowd.
"Thank you," she said, inclining her head deeply. "To every artisan who labored until their hands ached, to every knight who stood guard, to every soul who gave time, skill, or faith—this day exists because of you."
She glanced at Kane, fingers tightening briefly around his.
"And to those who traveled far, who came despite danger, distance, or duty—thank you for witnessing our union. Your presence honors us more than we can properly say."
Kane followed, clearing his throat once before speaking.
"I have walked through many battles," he said quietly, sincerity ringing through every word. "But this—standing here with Arasha—this is the greatest victory of my life. Thank you for believing in us. Thank you for standing with her. And thank you for welcoming me into her world."
A wave of applause rolled through the gathering.
Then Garran rose.
The old warrior did not bother hiding the tremor in his hands as he lifted his cup.
"I'm not good with speeches," he began gruffly, then snorted. "Never have been."
A few knowing chuckles rippled outward.
"I watched Arasha grow," Garran continued, voice roughened by memory. "From a stubborn child who refused to cry even when she should have… into a commander who carried burdens no one should bear alone."
He paused, eyes shining. "Seeing her stand here today—alive, loved, choosing happiness—it's more than I ever dared hope for."
He turned to Kane, nodding once, firm and final.
"Treasure her well," Garran said. "But I reckon you already know that."
His cup lifted in salute. The crowd answered with raised glasses and cheers.
Valmira rose next.
Elegant as ever, she did not need to raise her voice to command attention.
"I once thought," she said lightly, "that I would never live to see this day. And yet here I am—proven wonderfully wrong."
Laughter followed, warm and affectionate.
"Arasha," Valmira continued, eyes softening, "you have always taken the hardest path to ease someone else's pain and had no regard for your happiness. So seeing you wed today is… a gift I will treasure for however many years remain to me."
She lifted her glass toward Kane.
"And you," she added with a knowing smile, "are a far better miracle than I ever dared request."
Next came Leta, practically bouncing to her feet.
"Well," she said brightly, "I prepared a long speech—but then I realized I'd cry halfway through and ruin my reputation."
That earned laughter—until her voice wavered anyway.
"Arasha," Leta said, blinking hard, "you're terrifying, brilliant, impossible, stubborn fool who keeps courting death! And yet, that is why you're one of a kind. That is why you will always be our forever beloved great Scion Commander."
Some of the Scion knights couldn't help but burst out crying when they heard Leta's words.
"Kane—thank you for loving her the way she deserves." She sniffed, smiling through tears. "May your days be loud, your nights passionate, and your future… very, very busy."
The crowd roared with laughter, and even Kane had to bury his face briefly against Arasha's shoulder.
Rewald followed, brief and composed as ever.
"Miracles," he said, adjusting his sleeves, "are often misunderstood. They are not sudden acts of fate—but the result of countless choices made despite fear." His gaze rested on Kane. "Relish this moment. You have earned it."
Kane met Rewald's gaze and nodded with gratitude.
More speeches followed—commanders, nobles, allies, old friends—each adding their blessing, their humor, their gratitude.
By the time the last glass was raised, the air was thick with joy and shared history.
Arasha leaned into Kane's side, listening, smiling, alive in a way that felt final and true.
****
The world quieted once the last echoes of celebration faded behind them.
Lanternlight filtered softly into the secluded chamber prepared for them—no guards, no aides, no expectations waiting at the door.
Just the hush of night, the distant murmur of wind over the hill, and the steady presence of one another.
Kane stood there for a moment, unmoving, as if any step might shatter the moment.
Arasha watched him, eyes gentle, knowing.
Then she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him without warning, holding him tight, grounding him in warmth and breath and living reality.
"Looks like you're about to cry," she murmured, voice fond.
Kane let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a hitch.
"You should really stop hugging me whenever I cry," he said, trying—and failing—to sound firm. "Or… when I'm about to cry."
"Hm," Arasha hummed thoughtfully, tightening her hold. "But it's my privilege now, so I don't think I will."
She tilted her head, cheek brushing his. "Besides, it always works. It calms you down."
Kane gave up entirely then, arms circling her, pulling her close as he buried his face against her shoulder. His breath trembled.
"I'm glad," he whispered, voice breaking, "that this time… you're alive in my arms."
Arasha's hold softened—not weaker, but more certain.
"I promise," she said quietly, fiercely, "I'll make sure it stays that way. As long as I can."
Kane pulled back just enough to look at her, searching her face as if committing it to memory all over again.
"You better," he said, trying for stern and failing completely.
They both laughed, the sound light and disbelieving, as if joy itself still surprised them.
For a while they simply stood there, breathing together, letting the weight of everything they had survived settle into something warm instead of heavy.
"It took so much to get here," Arasha said softly. "So many sacrifices. So many wishes… from people who'll never stand where we are now." Her gaze steadied. "I won't forget them. Any of it."
Kane squeezed her hand, firm and sure. "Neither will I."
Silence followed—full, unhurried.
Arasha lifted her eyes then and found Kane already watching her, a smile tugging at his lips, wonder still written openly across his face. Something in her expression shifted—tender, resolute.
She leaned in.
For a heartbeat, Kane froze, caught between instinct and awe.
Then he exhaled, hands rising to cradle her as he kissed her back—slow at first, reverent—before giving in fully, deepening the kiss with all the devotion, relief, and love he had carried across lifetimes.
The world beyond the chamber ceased to matter.
For this moment, and this life, they were exactly where they were meant to be.
Finally their fates, mended.