Solace's P.O.V
The dust from the battlefield hadn't even fully settled before the reconstruction began. For the first few days, the air in Thera was a mix of heavy grief for the fallen and a frantic, buzzing energy of a world being reborn. I spent most of my time in the war room with Evander, pouring over maps and organizing relief for the Aevum villages that had been bled dry by the late King's greed.
But every time I looked out the window, I looked for him.
Alaric had stayed in the camps at first, helping his former soldiers transition into their new reality. He refused to wear his royal silks, preferring his dented, blood-stained armor as he worked alongside the men. When we finally met in the palace gardens a week after the final blow, the silence between us was loud. We didn't talk about the crown or the war; we just stood among the blooming moon-lilies, letting the reality sink in that we were both still breathing.
"You did it, Solace," he had whispered then, looking at the restored spires of my home.
"We did it," I corrected, reaching out to brush a smudge of soot from his cheek. "And now, we have to figure out how to live with it."
The days following the war soon blurred into a beautiful, chaotic dream. The heavy, oily darkness that had choked the Aevum Empire for decades finally lifted, replaced by a sky that seemed bluer than I ever remembered. As Alaric officially took his place, the people didn't see a prince who had turned his back on his father; they saw a savior who had risked everything to give them back their lives.
On the day of the joint celebration—a festival meant to mark the official alliance between Thera and Aevum—the courtyard was packed. The air smelled of roasting meats, sweet wine, and the perfume of thousands of flowers brought by the villagers. I walked toward Alaric through a sea of bowing heads. He looked every bit the monarch now, dressed in deep midnight blues and silver, yet the kindness in his eyes hadn't changed since that first night in the forest.
"Congratulations on your coronation, King Alaric of Aevum," I said, offering a playful, regal tilt of my head, my voice light with a teasing edge.
He didn't bow back. Instead, he reached out and caught my hand, his thumb gently grazing my knuckles in a way that made my skin tingle. "Please, Solace. Drop the formalities. You know I'm still just the man who didn't want to share a horse with you."
I laughed, but I looked at him, confused by the sudden, burning intensity in his gaze. My breath hitched as he didn't let go of my hand. Slowly, with a deliberate grace that silenced the entire courtyard, he dropped to one knee right there in front of the cheering thousands. The silence that followed was so absolute you could hear the snap of the banners in the wind. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a ring—a delicate, silver-gold band that seemed to shimmer with a light all its own.