The men returned to the castle long past midnight.
Any evidence of the women's festivities had been erased.
Candles replaced.
Cushions fluffed.
No stray goblets.
No lingering scandal.
Only quiet stone corridors and moonlight spilling through tall windows.
Jax walked alone to his chamber.
Pixie Mead still warmed his veins.
He was drunk.
Buzzed.
And very much not in the mood to sleep alone.
For once, disappointment lingered as he reached for the door handle.
He opened it.
And froze.
Four familiar silhouettes sat on the bed.
Naked.
Waiting.
Zee smiled first.
"We missed you."
Nyxian tilted her head.
Bunny grinned.
Llandra said nothing — but her eyes did.
Jax blinked once.
Then laughed.
"Oh, hell yes."
The door closed.
No sound barrier was cast.
Not this time.
The bed protested first.
Springs strained.
Wood groaned.
Laughter turned to breathless crescendos.
The castle, for the second night in a row, did not sleep quietly.
Across hallways and down marble corridors, echoes carried.
Some servants pretended not to hear.
Others absolutely did.
In the royal chamber, the Queen paused mid-step.
She heard it.
The King heard it.
They looked at one another.
A challenge hung in the air.
The Queen stepped forward slowly.
"You don't intend to let them win, do you?"
The King smirked.
She didn't wait for his answer.
She kissed him with fire that had been dormant too long.
If passion was filling the castle tonight—
It would not belong solely to the young.
The doors closed.
The night deepened.
The Royal Capital pulsed with life.
---
Morning came mercilessly.
Jax awoke in familiar chaos.
Limbs everywhere.
Hair across his face.
An elbow pressing into his ribs.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment.
He wasn't sure he would ever sleep normally again.
He gently removed a leg from his shoulder.
Carefully slid free from a tangle of arms.
The Vixens murmured but did not wake.
He smiled.
Wedding day.
He dressed quietly and slipped toward the kitchens.
Breakfast would need guidance.
---
The afternoon belonged to Llandra.
Every corridor she walked felt brighter.
Every noble bowed slightly deeper.
Bunny coordinated with the city news via Tele-Stone, narrating events with theatrical enthusiasm.
"The bride looks radiant," she whispered to the waiting scribes.
"She is barefoot. Yes, barefoot."
It was Llandra's wish.
The ceremony would be outside.
Grass beneath her feet.
Wind in her hair.
---
The Wedding
Rows of chairs filled the courtyard gardens.
Over two hundred fifty guests sat on Llandra's side.
On Jax's side—
Empty seats.
A full section.
Vacant.
Jax noticed as he walked down the aisle.
He shook hands.
Accepted nods.
Smiled easily.
Legos and Heiron stood beside him as groomsmen.
But when he reached his place and turned to face the crowd—
He saw it clearly.
One side filled.
One side empty.
Politics.
Tradition.
Symbolism.
If you sit on a side, you declare allegiance.
To Jax—
It meant little.
He shrugged internally.
He had never needed a crowd to validate him.
The music began.
Everyone rose.
Llandra appeared at the end of the aisle.
Barefoot.
Crown of flowers woven into her long blonde hair.
A white gown from the United Kingdoms — elegant, flowing, subtly daring.
The wind caught the fabric.
She walked between her parents.
The King and Queen radiated pride.
They reached the officiant.
"Who gives this woman?"
The King stepped forward.
"I, King Altherion, give my daughter to this man — with her full blessing and our complete faith."
He embraced Llandra.
The Queen followed.
Then Altherion turned and clasped Jax's hand.
Not as King.
As father.
He stepped aside.
The world narrowed.
Jax stood before Llandra.
Her veil covered her face.
He lifted it slowly.
And the speech he had prepared dissolved instantly.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Not elegant tears.
Not controlled ones.
Raw.
Overwhelming.
Beautiful.
He forgot the crowd.
Forgot the politics.
Forgot even the world he had come from.
He did not see pointed ears.
He did not see royalty.
He saw a woman choosing him.
Completely.
They exchanged traditional vows.
Then their own.
Jax's voice steadied.
"I will protect you. I will honor you. I will stand beside you — not above you. Not ahead of you. Beside you. Always."
Llandra's voice trembled.
"I choose you. Every battle. Every storm. Every joy. I choose you."
The officiant spoke.
"Do you vow to protect and honor this woman before you, for as long as you live?"
"Yes."
"Do you vow to honor and support this man before you, for as long as you live?"
"I do."
"With the blessing of the Elven Empire, I pronounce you husband and wife."
Silence.
Then—
Thunderous applause.
Jax pulled her close.
Not hurried.
Not rushed.
A kiss that sealed more than ceremony.
Behind them, Legos and Heiron stood proud.
The Queen wiped a tear.
The King stood taller than he had in years.
And on the empty side—
One by one—
Several nobles quietly stood and crossed the aisle.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
But deliberately.
They chose.
The United Kingdoms would not stand empty.
And neither would Jax Darquebane.