Evelyn POV
As the sun reached its peak in the sky and a new day unfolded, Evelyn moved gracefully through the forest.
With a wave of her hand, she stirred the blooms from their slumber, waking the flowers with whispered magic. All around her, pixies and fairies fluttered into motion, ready to begin their duties.
Each had a role: the stone fairies cared for the groves, the sun fairies nourished light, the wind fairies directed the breezes, and the water fairies tended to the rivers and streams. Evelyn, the High Fae of the Forest, gave her final instructions to the last group, watching them disappear in a flurry of shimmering wings.
Then a familiar voice echoed from behind her.
"I thought I'd find you here."
A soft smile curved Evelyn's lips as she turned around. Only one person would seek her out like this—Tyron, the King of the Elves. And by his side, as always, was his young son, Owe.
"Tyron," Evelyn greeted warmly, walking toward him. Her eyes lit up when she saw Owe, the little elf boy, bouncing excitedly at the sight of her.
Olwe's big, ocean-blue eyes sparkled beneath the brim of his tiny green hat, his pointy elf ears peeking through his soft curls of blond hair. Evelyn opened her arms, and he leapt into them without hesitation.
"It seems someone was excited to see you," Tyron chuckled, watching his son wrap his arms around Evelyn's neck.
Evelyn held Owe close, her heart swelling with affection. She loved the child as if he were her own. After pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, she looked up at Tyron.
"How are you?"
"Never better," Tyron replied, his eyes brightening with a knowing smile. "In fact, I came to speak with you... about our two children. I imagine you've heard the news by now."
Evelyn inhaled deeply, steadying herself.
"I have," she said softly. Then, without missing a beat, she added, "Let's sit down and discuss it properly."
The news of Willow's betrothal to Everest had hung in the air like a heavy mist—beautiful, but complicated. Evelyn supported Willow with all her heart, but she knew the path ahead would be anything but smooth. Willow was Fae. Everest was Elf. And the joining of their kind had not been done for centuries.
"Let's go to the garden," Evelyn offered, gesturing toward the lush courtyard near the castle. "We'll have some tea and speak peacefully."
Tyron nodded. "That sounds like a plan."
Together, they made their way to the garden, where a circular table awaited, surrounded by delicate chairs carved from living wood. Flowers spilled from trellises in a rainbow of blooms, their scent mingling with the crisp air. A waterfall murmured nearby, its gentle rhythm adding to the tranquility. Overhead, ancient trees wove together, creating a soft green canopy that filtered the sunlight into golden beams.
As they entered the garden, Evelyn knelt carefully and set little Owe down on the grass. She smiled warmly at him.
"I have a wooden basket filled with toys that once belonged to Willow," she said kindly. "Would you like to explore it?"
Olwe's blue eyes widened with delight, and a radiant smile lit up his small face, his tiny white teeth peeking through. Evelyn chuckled at his excitement and rose to her feet, then lifted one hand to gesture to a nearby fairy guard.
The guard approached swiftly and bowed his head. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
Still smiling, Evelyn stood tall and graceful. "Would you please bring me Willow's old toy basket for the young prince to play with—and a blanket as well?"
The guard gave a respectful nod and departed without a word. All her guards knew Evelyn well and were familiar with the cherished keepsakes from Willow's childhood, stored lovingly in the castle.
With the request made, Evelyn turned back to Tyron and motioned toward the white wooden table nestled beneath a curtain of flowering vines.
"Please, have a seat."
Tyron nodded and gently lifted Owe into his arms, walking with him to the table. He took a seat with Owe perched on his lap, while Evelyn sat across from them, her expression serene.
Soon, the guard returned, carrying a soft pink-and-white knitted blanket and a large wooden basket brimming with toys—each one worn slightly from use, but still full of magic. He bowed as he approached.
"My lady," he said, and carefully spread the blanket near the table before placing the basket beside it.
The moment Owe spotted the toys, curiosity overtook him. He wriggled eagerly in his father's lap, eager to explore. Tyron chuckled and set him down gently. The guard smiled, watching the curious boy toddle over and dive into the toy basket with a delighted squeal. Owe began examining each toy with wonder, making playful noises and sound effects as he immersed himself in his own little world.
Once she saw the child content and happily occupied, Evelyn turned once more to the guard.
"Thank you," she said warmly. "Would you kindly ask one of the servants to bring tea and some biscuits for our guest?"
The guard nodded and gave a slight bow. "As you wish, my lady." With that, he turned and disappeared through the trees.
The garden was now filled with the soft sounds of water, the rustle of leaves, and Owe's happy chatter. Evelyn folded her hands gently on the table and looked across at Tyron, her expression shifting from warmth to quiet seriousness.
A deep frown formed in Evelyn's eyes as she looked at Tyron. Their gazes met across the table, and she drew in a long, steadying breath before she spoke.
"I suppose I should start," she said, pausing as if the words weighed heavy on her tongue. "I was surprised when Willow came to me last night and told me she's going to marry your son. But… part of me feels guilty. As if I may have forced her into it."
Tyron's blue eyes darkened, his expression turning serious. His lips thinned as he looked at her intently. "Why would you say that?" he asked, his voice low.
Evylen let out a weary sigh and dropped her gaze to her hands resting on the table. Then she looked back at him, her voice soft and vulnerable. "My magic is slipping away, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. When we were attacked yesterday—by that wicked witch, Brielle—she said something... something about me. I think that's what pushed Willow to say yes. I think she's hoping to gain my magic before it's gone for good."
Tears welled in her eyes, her chest tightening as she fought to keep her composure.
She tried not to shed tears in front of Tyron—not here, not now. But his hand reached across the table, strong and warm, taking hers into his and giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze.
"Evelyn," he said gently, his voice deep and calm, "this decision wasn't forced. It was theirs. My son told me yesterday—when he broke the news—that he loves your daughter. And when he said it, I could see it was true. I believe he's loved Willow since they were children. This didn't come out of nowhere."
A soft gasp left her lips as she looked up at him, her eyes wide. His gaze stayed locked with hers—steady and kind—but their moment was interrupted as a servant approached.
"My lady," said the friendly young woman, placing a silver tray on the table. On it sat a steaming teapot, a small bowl of sugar, a tiny jug of milk, and a plate of delicate flower-shaped biscuits.
Evelyn quickly composed herself, offering a smile through the veil of her emotion. "Thank you, Marian," she said warmly.
The servant poured the tea into three cups as Tyron turned to his son.
"Owe, would you like a biscuit?"
The boy lit up and eagerly nodded. Evylen smiled as she watched the young prince stretch his arms toward the plate. Her heart fluttered with a bittersweet ache, remembering when Willow had been that small, carefree, joyful, with the whole world waiting for her. And now, her daughter was a grown woman, ready to marry.
Once Marian finished, she curtsied and stepped away. Tyron helped Owe dip a biscuit into his tea, the boy's delighted giggle filling the air. Evelyn couldn't help but smile wider as she sipped her tea quietly, soaking in the peace of the moment.
After a few minutes, Owe was full and toddled back to the blanket, his half-empty cup left behind, and only a few crumbs scattered across the plate.
"Your youngest has his mother's beauty," Evelyn said softly, her eyes watching Owe as he played.
Tyron chuckled. "He may have the beauty, but Ella—now she took the whole cake. She's got her mother in her... and the stubbornness too."
Evelyn laughed gently, her heart warmed by the memory. She thought back to Enamary—Tyron's late wife—a radiant woman with long blond hair and eyes that could see into a soul. Enamary had helped her so much after Evelyn's husband died in the fire, especially with raising Willow.
"I miss her every day," Tyron said, his voice laced with sorrow. Their eyes met again, and Evelyn could see the deep lines etched around his eyes, worn by grief and time. "But I'm grateful for the children. They've kept me going."
It had been a tragedy when Enamary died so suddenly after giving birth to Owe. Her death had struck not just the Elven people, but the Fae as well. She had been a queen beloved by both realms—a woman with a golden heart.
Evelyn reached across the table and took Tyron's hand in hers, squeezing it gently. No words were needed. Her touch said everything: I'm here. I remember. I understand.
Everest POV
After dancing together in the wildflowers, lost in laughter and love, Willow and Everest finally decided it was time to return to Willow's kingdom and share their exciting news with her mother.
But as they approached the garden outside the castle, Everest paused in surprise.
"Is that… my father?" he murmured, spotting Lord Tyron seated at a white wooden table with Willow's mother, deep in conversation. Nearby, Everest's little brother played happily with a set of toys in the grass.
Hand in hand, Willow and Everest walked toward them, both slightly caught off guard by the sight of their parents together.
"Father, this is a surprise," Everest said as they came to a stop before the seated pair.
Tyron's face lit up at the sight of his son. "We were just talking about the two of you," he said with a teasing glint in his eye as he rose from his chair.
Everest could only hope the discussion had been good news. Willow, ever gracious, smiled warmly and released Everest's hand to greet his father.
"Uncle Tyron, it's so nice to see you," she said as she leaned in for a friendly hug.
"Willow," Tyron greeted her with a pleased smile.
Everest stepped forward and greeted Evelyn with equal warmth, embracing her gently. Once the greetings were exchanged, Everest turned to his father with quiet curiosity.
"What brings you here, Father?"
Tyron's expression turned more serious. He glanced at Evelyn before returning his gaze to the young couple.
"We were discussing your Brothel Ceremony—the traditional rite that comes before the wedding day," he began.
Everest inhaled deeply and glanced at Willow. Her expression was gentle but uncertain—clearly, she didn't understand what his father was referring to.
Tyron noticed her confusion and gestured to the chairs. "Please, take a seat. I'll explain everything."
Willow nodded and sat beside her mother. Everest joined her, sensing the importance of the moment. He understood the Brothel Ceremony well—it was a sacred tradition among his people. But Willow, being of fairy heritage, had likely never heard of it.
A hush fell over the garden as all eyes turned to Tyron. He began to speak with calm reverence.
"Our ancestors believed that before two souls marry, both families must come together—often for the first time—to symbolically merge their lineages," he explained. "Elders from each side offer blessings, stories, and sometimes ancestral relics to the couple. For example, your mother and Everest grandmother Elizabeth, and my own parents all participated in this sacred tradition."
Everest's eyes drifted to Willow, who nodded thoughtfully as she took in each word. But he knew her well—she was nervous. Quietly, he brought his hand to hers where it lay in her lap, and gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure her that he was right there with her.
Their attention returned to Tyron as he continued.
"The Brothel Ceremony symbolizes the binding of hearts," he said. "It affirms that both individuals are fully committed to one another before entering the sacred vows of marriage. Among Elven kind, marriage is more than a promise—it is an eternal bond that lasts not only through life, but beyond death, into the afterlife."
He paused before adding, "The ceremony is also a spiritual rite of passage. It blesses the couple with wisdom, strength, and protection for the path ahead. In some traditions, it is believed to awaken the ancestral lineages of both families—bringing harmony and balance between their bloodlines."
Everest exhaled, overwhelmed by the gravity of what the ceremony represented. He turned to Willow, who was already looking at him with wide, soft hazel eyes.
"I know it's a lot," he said gently, watching her closely.
A smile touched her lips as she reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's okay," she replied softly. "We fairies don't have such formal rites—we believe in the giving of gifts and the quiet promises made under moonlight. We're more… bound to the earth. More free in spirit."
Everest swallowed hard, realizing once again how different their worlds were. And yet, in this moment, he felt them drawing closer—not apart. He was learning from her, and she from him.
Then Evelyn spoke, her voice warm and steady, drawing everyone's attention.
"We were thinking the Brothel Ceremony could be held in the Elven Kingdom, since it is an important rite for your people," she said with a gentle smile.
Everest looked to Willow, wanting to make sure she was comfortable with the idea. "Is it okay with you?" he asked softly.
Willow looked at him for a moment, her gaze searching. Then she nodded, her voice calm and sincere. "Yes. If it means that much to you, then I want to honor it too."
Everest 's heart swelled with quiet joy. In that moment, he knew they weren't just merging families or traditions—they were building something entirely new, together.