Sarisa sat in the soft, golden hush after Lara left, letting the stillness settle over her. The teacup was warm in her hands, the last traces of steam curling upward in lazy, delicate spirals.
She set it aside, stretched her arms, and let herself linger in that rare sense of being cared for.
Lara's apology had been awkward, but sincere—and the breakfast, with its careful arrangement of all Sarisa's favorites, had softened something inside her she'd kept locked away for too long.
She was not foolish enough to think everything could change overnight. But maybe, she allowed herself to hope, some things could.
The memory of Lara uncertain, nervous, almost bashful as she offered her peace brought a smile to Sarisa's lips.
That was not the face Lara showed to the world, and Sarisa cherished it for what it was: a gift, freely given.
She slid out of bed, toes curling into the soft rug, and padded over to her wardrobe. She selected a pale blue dress, simple but elegant, with a high collar and loose sleeves that brushed her wrists.
Her golden tattoos always faintly glowing peeked through the thin fabric, curling around her arms and collarbone like secret constellations.
She braided her moonlight hair loosely, letting a few tendrils fall around her face, and pinned the rest back.
Her reflection showed a woman not quite a queen, but not just a daughter anymore, either. Someone in-between, learning each day what she could become.
The shower was a brief, blessed relief. She lingered under the warm water, letting it soothe the last traces of sleep from her body, washing away the tension that still clung to her bones from days of worry.
Her mind wandered as she dressed: to the mounting pressures of the council, to Aliyah's upcoming birthday, to the shape of Lara's apology and what it might mean for them. She tucked those thoughts away for later, wrapping herself in the comfortable armor of routine.
She had barely finished fastening the last button of her dress when the door to her chambers burst open and a whirlwind with black hair and red eyes spun into the room.
"Mom!" Aliyah's voice rang with the unselfconscious joy only a nearly-five-year-old could possess. "Are you up? Can we play? Can we go outside? Can we—oh, you look pretty!"
Sarisa couldn't help but laugh. "Slow down, little star." She knelt, opening her arms, and Aliyah flung herself forward in a delighted hug, nearly knocking Sarisa off-balance.
Aliyah's energy was infectious, a force of nature that rarely heeded the boundaries of royal etiquette or adult schedules. Sarisa had given up trying to resist it long ago; it was easier, and happier, to surrender.
Aliyah pulled back, bouncing on her heels, eyes wide. "Can we go flying today? You promised! Or maybe we can go play with Kaelith and Mama Malvoria! Or—"
"Aliyah," Sarisa said gently, tucking a strand of wild hair behind her daughter's ear, "I have a little work to finish first, but then I'll come find you. How about you and Kaelith go on an adventure in the garden while I'm busy? I'll join you as soon as I'm done. Promise."
Aliyah pouted—her signature move, one she'd perfected over years of royal indulgence—but she nodded. "Okay. But you have to come find us, or I'll come back and drag you away from all your boring work."
Sarisa grinned. "Deal. Now go, little troublemaker."
Aliyah giggled and darted out the door, cape flapping behind her as if she were off to save the world.
Sarisa watched her go, her heart swelling with that old, impossible love: fierce, protective, unyielding.
No matter what happened, no matter how many rules the court made, how many traditions the Celestian queen clung to Aliyah would always be hers, always Lara's. No future, no engagement, could erase that.
The hallway outside Sarisa's chambers was quieter now, the castle properly awake but not yet bustling.
Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting ribbons of gold across the polished floor. Sarisa walked slowly, savoring the morning stillness, allowing herself the rare luxury of anticipation.
She rounded the corner to her office and paused, taking in the sight waiting for her. Lara stood beside the door in her formal bodyguard uniform—black and gold, crisp and tailored, accentuating every inch of muscle, every line of her tall frame.
Her hair was tied back, her stance a perfect imitation of alertness, but her eyes—when she saw Sarisa—softened in a way that made Sarisa's heart flutter all over again.
For just a moment, Sarisa let herself appreciate the absurdity. Lara, who would rather be out chasing bandits or fighting dragons, standing guard like a model soldier, all for Sarisa's sake. She bit back a smile and nodded as she passed.
"Morning," she said, as regal as ever.
Lara straightened, lips quirking in a subtle grin. "Morning, Your Highness."
Sarisa rolled her eyes as she entered her office. "Don't start."
She closed the door, letting the quiet envelop her. Her desk was immaculate, papers stacked in orderly piles, every petition and request sorted and annotated.
Sarisa sat down and sifted through the top stack, finding Lara's handwriting in the margins—efficient, clear, even a little witty in places. It was work done not just quickly, but well.
She shook her head, amused and impressed in equal measure. Maybe Lara hated paperwork, but she was better at it than most of the royal secretaries.
There was a kind of brutal clarity to her comments, a refusal to tolerate nonsense that made Sarisa's job easier.
She could almost hear Lara's voice in the notes: This one's stalling—delay until they get serious. This needs your signature, not mine, but it's urgent. Tell the council to stop bickering over wine budgets.
For a moment, Sarisa just sat, fingers tracing the edge of the parchment. She realized she had more free time now than she'd planned—enough, perhaps, to do as Aliyah had asked and play outside, to be more than just a future queen for a morning.
The thought made her unexpectedly giddy. She could already picture Aliyah's face, the way her eyes would light up when Sarisa joined her and Kaelith in the garden.
She tucked away her work, straightened her desk, and slipped out of the office with a lighter heart.
Outside, Lara was still waiting—bodyguard-perfect, though Sarisa now saw through the act. She nodded to Lara as she passed, and for the briefest instant, their eyes met, something silent and warm passing between them.
She could get used to this, Sarisa thought as she headed off to find her daughter—a castle running smoothly, a co-parent she could rely on, mornings that began with apologies and ended with laughter.
As she reached the garden doors, she allowed herself one last, secret smile.