Instead of accepting all gifts, Qazaethel decided she’ll be staying with Dawn, Eiravelle, and Liv on the northern garden where beautiful different trees, fruits, and flowers grow. The Northern garden was famous for being enormous and the only garden to flourish even more when winter arrives.
It was a place of wonder, a contradiction to the natural order, where roses bloomed in the snow and fruit hung heavy on branches even as frost coated the ground. The paths were lined with lanterns that glowed with a soft, warm light, and the air was filled with the scent of jasmine and something sweeter, something ancient and magical.
They settled at a small pavilion near the center of the garden, where a low table had been prepared with tea and delicate pastries. The pavilion was open on all sides, offering a view of the gardens in every direction, and the sky was painted in bright shades of blue, pink, and gold. Servants had been dismissed, leaving only the four of them in the quiet solitude of the garden.
The only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant trickle of a fountain somewhere in the darkness.
Dawn and Eiravelle were having their conversation from the other table while Qazaethel and Liv faced each other. The two omegas sat close together, their heads are bent in quiet conversation, their laughter was occasionally drifting through the evening air.
Eiravelle was still wearing the simple dress she had worn to the celebration, but she looked more relaxed now, more at ease. Dawn had that effect on people. She had a way of making others feel comfortable, of drawing them out of their shells without them even realizing it.
She was asking Eiravelle about her favorite flowers, about the books she had read, about the places she had dreamed of visiting. Simple questions, easy questions, but they were questions that no one else had ever thought to ask.
Two alphas looked at their omegas before turning to each other. Qazaethel watched the way Dawn smiled at Eiravelle, the way her hand rested on the omega’s arm as she spoke. There was a gentleness there, a warmth that Qazaethel had not expected.
She had thought Dawn would be cold, distant, and resentful of the concubine who had been chosen over her. But Dawn was none of those things. She was kind, and kindness was something Qazaethel had not anticipated.
Liv watched the way Eiravelle laughed at something Dawn said, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way she seemed to forget, for just a moment, the weight of everything that had happened to her.
Liv had not known Eiravelle well before the wedding, had only seen her from a distance, a quiet figure among the concubines. But seeing her now, seeing the way she smiled, the way she relaxed in Dawn’s presence, Liv understood why Qazaethel had chosen her.
"Before we talked about how beautiful my Eiravelle looked, let’s talk about royal affairs first. Have you gotten any evidence pointing that there is a traitor inside this palace?" Qazaethel dropped.
Liv smirked as she took a sip of her tea. The tea was hot and fragrant, a blend that Liv had brought from her personal stores, and she savored the taste for a moment before responding. "Nothing much compared to my Dawn."
Liv put the teacup down and Qazaethel rolled her eyes in annoyance, but there’s no real bite in it. It was the kind of exchange they had shared for centuries, the kind of banter that came from years of friendship and trust. "Aside from Cezar being dead, he was only a decoy of the empress dowager, Your Majesty." Liv said.
"What do you mean?" Qazaethel asked, her voice was dropping to a low murmur. The lightness of their earlier exchange faded, replaced by the gravity of the topic at hand. 𝙛𝓇ⅇ
"The arrow belongs to one of our officials, but I cannot disclose the details in this place. At least it’s safe to keep them both out of our business." Liv was pointing at the two omegas who were having a funny conversation with each other.
Qazaethel followed her gaze. Dawn was showing Eiravelle something on her palm—a small trick, perhaps, or a little spell—and Eiravelle was watching with wide, fascinated eyes. They were laughing, truly laughing, and the sound was like music in the quiet garden.
Liv was right. Qazaethel can’t put their omegas in danger, not when Eiravelle was pregnant. Not when Dawn was still so new to this world, still learning to navigate the treacherous waters of court politics.
"You’re right. Thank you for being concerned with them." Qazaethel said, and Liv nodded.
"I just wanted to keep Dawn safe." Liv said simply. There was no hesitation in her voice, no apology. She loved Dawn, and she would do anything to protect her. That was the truth, and Liv had never been one to hide from the truth.
Qazaethel sighed. The weight of everything—the traitor, the threat to her throne, the tangled web of relationships that had formed—pressed down on her shoulders. But she pushed it aside, focused on the matter at hand. "About what happened last night, did you make sure that Dawn won’t get pregnant?" Qazaethel asked.
Liv suddenly cleared her throat and nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. But how come you’re not angry? Shouldn’t you be punishing me and your wife for committing adultery?" Liv asked. The question was honest, direct, and the kind of question that only Liv would dare to ask.
She had been by Qazaethel’s side for five thousand years, had seen the sovereign at her best and her worst, and she knew that Qazaethel was not as cold as she pretended to be.
Qazaethel took another sip of her tea. The warmth of the liquid spread through her chest, but it did not chase away the chill that had settled there. "The relationship I had with Dawn was merely just a transaction. She loves you, and if that’s what keeps her happy then it should be. But be careful. You are the Royal General, she is my Phoenix empress. You cannot let anyone know besides from us." Qazaethel warned her.
Liv nodded with a smile. The smile was genuine, warm, the smile of someone who had just been given permission to be happy. "Of course I already know that part."
Qazaethel nodded in understanding. She had never expected to give this kind of permission, had never expected to accept the relationship between her general and her wife. But seeing the way Liv smiled, seeing the way Dawn laughed, seeing the way Eiravelle had blossomed in the short time she had been here—Qazaethel realized that sometimes, the rules were meant to be broken. Sometimes, happiness was more important than propriety.
Until a bunny appeared and hopped on their floor table. The bunny was small and golden, with fur that shimmered in the light of the afternoon and eyes that were bright and intelligent. Dawn and Eiravelle immediately got drawn to how cute the rabbit is, and Eiravelle even pet its head. The rabbit leaned into the touch, its eyes were closing in contentment.
"Wow! You’re so cute!" Eiravelle said, and the rabbit hopped down and sat next to Eiravelle.
The next second, she shapeshifted to her human-like form and excitedly hugged Eiravelle. "Saintess! I miss you!" Ruthina cried, her arms are wrapping around Eiravelle with a desperate kind of joy.
Dawn was shocked. Eiravelle was surprised but she didn’t react much. Liv and Qazaethel were also shocked. The transformation had been so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment, none of them knew how to react.
"Ruthina? Why are you here?" Eiravelle asked. Her voice was steady, but her hands had come up to rest on Ruthina’s arms, holding her gently.
"Oh! About that. Lordess Arielle told me to come here and ask you how are you? She said you’ve been avoiding her letters for months, and she just wants to know you’re safe and your baby." Ruthina said.
Eiravelle frowned. She had not been avoiding Arielle’s letters. She had been reading them, had been writing responses, had been trying to find the words to explain everything that had happened. But the words had never come.
How could she explain the confusing feelings that had grown inside her? How could she explain that she had been so lost, so overwhelmed, and that she had not known how to reach out?
"Liv. Tell Prime Minister Arielle that she can come in here." Qazaethel commanded.
Liv bowed and stood up from the floor to call Arielle, who was probably outside. The general moved quietly, her footsteps were silent on the garden path, and she disappeared into the shadows.
"Hello, Golden Dragon!" Ruthina said to the sovereign, and Qazaethel smiled and bowed.
"Greetings, beloved pet of the saint." Qazaethel greeted back.
It looked like they were just playing, but in reality, Qazaethel was lower than the golden rabbit. She knew the hierarchy. Even if she became a God through cultivation, golden rabbits are still the third most powerful creatures in their world. The three supreme Gods, then the saint, then the golden rabbits.
Qazaethel was not a fool. She knew where she stood.
"Saintess! Pet me again!" Ruthina said and lay her head on Eiravelle’s lap. ⅇℯ𝚕.
Eiravelle didn’t react much when Ruthina kept calling her saintess and just pet the omega’s head and ear. The motion was soothing, repetitive, and it seemed to calm something inside Eiravelle that had been restless for weeks.
She did not believe she was a saint. She did not believe she was anything special. But Ruthina did, and there was something comforting in being believed in, even when you did not believe in yourself.
"Golden rabbit, may I also pet you?" Dawn asked, and the golden rabbit excitedly nodded.
But her excitement suddenly got into a pause when she looked at Eiravelle. "Saintess, can she pet me?" She asked.
Eiravelle was a bit taken aback. The question was so earnest, so sincere, that she did not know how to respond. "Y-Yeah~ Ab... Absolutely haha." She said, she’s not used to having someone ask permission from her.
But regardless, Ruthina went to Dawn and lay her head on Dawn’s lap and enjoyed the Phoenix empress’s pet on her head. Dawn’s fingers moved through the golden fur, gentle and careful, and Ruthina sighed with contentment.
"She’s so soft," Dawn murmured, her voice was filled with wonder. "I’ve never felt anything like this before."
"The golden rabbits are blessed by the Gods," Qazaethel said. "Their fur is said to hold the warmth of the sun and the light of the moon. To touch one is considered a great honor."
Dawn looked down at Ruthina, at the way the rabbit’s eyes had closed, at the way her breathing had slowed, and she felt something stir in her chest. A sense of wonder, perhaps, or a sense of connection.
She had never been one for religion or prophecy, had never believed in the tales of saints and gods and golden rabbits. But sitting here, with Ruthina’s warm fur beneath her fingers, she began to wonder if perhaps there was more truth to those tales than she had ever imagined.
Eiravelle watched them from her seat, her expression was thoughtful. She was still petting the spot where Ruthina had been, her fingers were moving through empty air. She thought of what Ruthina had said about being the saint, about being a darling of the heavens.
She thought of Master Ragnar’s prophecy, of the words that had haunted her since she left the manor in the clouds. Salvation or destruction. She did not know which she would become.
She did not know if she would become either. But she knew that she could not run from it anymore. She could not hide. She could only keep moving forward, one step at a time.
The garden stretched around them, beautiful and vast, filled with the scent of flowers and the gentle hum of life. The lanterns glowed, the stars shone, and the night was quiet. For a moment, everything felt peaceful. For a moment, everything felt right.
Arielle appeared at the edge of the pavilion, her figure was silhouetted against the lantern light. She stood there for a moment, her eyes were fixed on Eiravelle, and then she walked forward. She did not run, she did not rush. She simply walked, her steps were slow and deliberate, and Eiravelle watched her approach with a heart that beat too fast and too loud.
The two sisters looked at each other, months of silence stretching between them, and neither of them knew what to say. But they did not need to say anything. They just needed to be there, together, in this moment.
Arielle stopped a few feet away from Eiravelle, her hands are trembling at her sides. She wanted to reach out, to touch her sister, to hold her and never let go. But she was afraid. Afraid that Eiravelle would pull away, afraid that the distance between them was too great to bridge. "Eiravelle," she whispered, her voice was cracking on the name.
Eiravelle stood up slowly, her own hands are trembling. She had imagined this moment so many times, had rehearsed what she would say, how she would explain. But now that Arielle was here, now that her sister was standing in front of her, all the words she had prepared seemed inadequate. "Sister," she breathed.
And then they were moving, closing the distance between them, and Arielle pulled Eiravelle into her arms. The embrace was fierce, desperate, the kind of embrace that came from months of separation and fear and longing. Arielle buried her face in Eiravelle’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her sister, and she felt tears streaming down her cheeks.