The moment they stepped under the golden archway of Disneyland Paris, the world bloomed into sound and color.
Brass music floated through the air, the scent of sugar and caramelized nuts wafting on the breeze. The castle glittered like spun glass under a blue summer sky — every spire tipped with gold.
On their wrists, the sleek black-and-gold wristbands gleamed softly — all-access, all-power, programmed to do everything from opening suites to ordering food.
It pulsed gently whenever they passed a checkpoint, letting them glide through roped-off lines without pause.
Henry led the group at an easy pace, Milos walking beside him — both practiced in the art of invisible precision. The crowd shifted naturally around them, the staff giving quick nods as they were ushered directly to the front of Soarin' Around the World.
Roman's grin widened. "So we don't queue?"
Talora raised an eyebrow. "Have you met us?"
Shya smirked. "Lines are for mortals."
Cassian huffed but didn't disagree.
Inside, the lighting dimmed to twilight. A breeze drifted past as they buckled themselves in, seats humming softly beneath them.And then — lift-off.
The screen swept them over mountains, cities, oceans; the world expanded in breathtaking arcs of color. The scent of salt and pine filled the air.
Luna gasped aloud, her voice carrying over the rush of wind. "It's real!"
Cassian, for once, looked spellbound — a small smile catching him off guard. Roman leaned back, hair ruffled by the fan breeze, shouting, "This is mental!"
Shya, eyes wide and glittering, whispered something that was half laughter, half awe: "It's art you can feel."
When they finally landed, no one spoke for a beat. The air was still charged — like they'd lived a lifetime in two minutes.
Roman broke the silence first. "Okay, fine. That was brilliant."
Cassian adjusted his cuff, but his eyes were still faraway. "The illusion of flight. Perfectly executed."
"Almost magical," Shya teased.
"Almost," he echoed.
From Soarin' to Star Tours, they drifted seamlessly through velvet ropes and glowing corridors — Milos scanning their wristbands, Henry ensuring their drinks never ran dry.Everywhere they went, cast members smiled and stepped aside; every ride seemed to open just for them.
The corridor hummed with light and motion — metallic panels reflecting the blue glow of animated stars, the air filled with the rhythmic hiss of hydraulics.
Cassian slowed as they entered the loading bay, his eyes darting from the robotic attendants to the holographic guide cheerfully instructing them in six languages.
"This is… not real," he said slowly, half to himself.
"Of course it's not," Shya said, grinning as she scanned her wristband at the entrance. "It's make-believe."
Roman tilted his head, watching an animatronic droid wheel past, its sensors blinking red. "But it's moving. Talking."
"That's engineering," Talora explained. "Electronics and programming. Muggles build these things."
Cassian frowned faintly. "They've built life without magic."
"They've built wonder," Shya corrected, tugging him toward the row of seats. "Now sit. You're about to be part of the galaxy far, far away."
The harnesses clicked shut. The lights dimmed.
A heartbeat later — they were gone.
The world outside the viewport burst into color and motion — the shriek of engines, the dizzying spin of stars.
The shuttle pitched forward, dodging meteors, diving toward a planet glittering with city lights. Cassian's hand shot out instinctively, gripping the armrest as the floor tilted.
Roman was laughing, eyes wild, the sound half shock, half joy.
"This isn't real?" he yelled over the noise. "This feels real!"
Shya was laughing too, hair flying. "That's the point!"
A droid screamed something about evasive maneuvers. Lasers flashed. Arya and Tristan whooped, Luna clutched her seat, and the whole cabin tilted again — down, down, then up, straight through the rings of a gas giant that blazed pink and gold.
Cassian couldn't help it — his mouth fell open.
When the simulation finally ended, the ship hissed to a stop, lights brightening back to white.
For a moment, none of them moved.
Talora exhaled first. "That… was fiction."
Roman turned to her, incredulous. "You mean this whole story — the war, the planets — it's all made up?"
She nodded, still smiling. "A film. A story that started decades ago."
Cassian stared at the empty screen ahead. "Muggles imagined all of that?"
"Every bit," Shya said softly. "No magic. Just imagination."
He looked at her for a long moment, thoughtful. "That's… terrifying."
She laughed. "And brilliant."
He nodded once. "And brilliant."
As they stepped out into the corridor again, blinking under the bright hallway lights, Roman was still grinning ear to ear. "So they built fake stars and ships and worlds, just to pretend to explore them?"
Shya shrugged. "Pretending's how people start doing the real thing."
Luna skipped beside Arya and Tristan, who were deep in debate about which part was the best — the dive through the asteroid field or the flight into hyperspace.
Talora smiled, glancing back at her friends. "I think the boys just realized what creativity can do."
"Yeah," Shya said quietly. "I think they did."
And for once, the magicals — the ones born into a world of spells and impossibilities — looked a little humbled by the power of make-believe.
When they stepped back out into the open air, the park had shifted — the heat of afternoon softening into golden haze. Music floated on the breeze, blending with laughter and the chime of distant rides. Everything felt touched with enchantment, even without a single spell.
Luna was still talking a mile a minute. "Did you see that last turn? When we flew through the meteors? And the robots—and the—"
Arya cut her off, grinning. "You screamed so loud the droids probably heard you from space."
"I did not!" she protested, cheeks pink.
"You absolutely did," Tristan said, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.
Shya slung her bag over her shoulder, grinning. "Alright, galactic heroes. Refuel time."
They followed Milos through the throng of tourists to a quiet terrace café overlooking Sleeping Beauty's Castle. A light breeze rustled the parasols; the scent of vanilla waffles and caramel popcorn hung in the air.
A waiter appeared before they could sit, all smiles and bow tie. "Your wristbands, please?"
Henry scanned them in one smooth motion. "The usual, Miss Livanthos?"
"Diet Coke," Talora said, her tone mock-serious. "For everyone else regular."
Within moments, tall glasses arrived — fizzing, cold, clinking with ice. The first sip drew a chorus of satisfied sighs.
"Oh, I missed this," Roman muttered. "It's better than Butterbeer."
Cassian frowned at the carbonation. "It's aggressively bubbly."
"That's the point," Shya said, eyes sparkling. "It's like chaos in a glass."
Talora raised her drink in mock toast. "To chaos, then."
Shya clinked hers against it. "And to not dying on fake starships."
Roman smirked. "Barely."
After lunch, they wandered through the nearby boutiques — air-conditioned, softly lit, overflowing with glittering displays.
Arya and Tristan darted between shelves, grabbing matching lightsabers; Luna found a plush Olaf almost her size.
Cassian examined a model X-wing like it might reveal the secrets of flight itself.
Roman ended up buying matching Mickey ears for everyone and plopped a pair onto Cassian's head when he wasn't looking.
Shya laughed so hard she nearly dropped Haneera's carrier.
"Hold still, Lord Black," she teased, snapping a photo. "Smile for posterity."
"Delete that," he said immediately.
"Never," she said sweetly, slipping her phone into her pocket.
Talora was examining a delicate charm bracelet with miniature castle pendants. "We should get something matching."
"Too cheesy," Shya said automatically. Then she paused. "Okay, maybe not that cheesy."
They left the shop with matching gold bracelets, tiny enamel charms glinting under the evening lights — a keepsake for a day that already felt like memory.
As dusk fell, they found themselves sitting along the edge of the central plaza — knees tucked close, Haneera curled in Shya's lap, Pandora snoozing beside Talora.
The castle glittered like a dream. The crowd around them buzzed with anticipation.
Roman leaned back on his elbows. "Do they do this every night?"
"Every single night," Talora said softly. "Rain or shine."
The first spark flared — a streak of gold tearing across the sky.
Then another.
And another — a cascade of pink, blue, and silver bursting above the towers. The sound rolled through them like thunder.
Luna clapped her hands to her mouth. "It's like stars being born!"
Arya whooped. "Or a dragon's sneeze!"
Tristan threw popcorn at him. "You're ridiculous."
Cassian, for once, said nothing. He just looked — at the sky, at the people beside him, at the way Shya's face lit up with each explosion. The colors danced across her eyes like a reflection of the fireworks themselves.
Something in him shifted — not dramatically, not with words, but like gravity quietly changing course.
Shya broke the spell with a grin. "You're thinking too hard."
"Habit," he said lightly.
"Break it. You're at Disneyland."
He smiled, small and real. "Working on it."
By the time they reached the hotel, the adrenaline had melted into a soft, contented fatigue. The group drifted through the gilded lobby, past marble floors that gleamed under chandeliers, and up to their suites.
Haneera and Pandora were asleep before they even reached the lift.
In the suite's soft glow, they all collapsed on the sofas — shoes kicked off, half-eaten pastries on the table, the air thick with that gentle quiet that only comes after too much joy.
Talora leaned back, smiling at nothing. "Tomorrow," she murmured, "we go full fairytale."
Roman stretched, yawning. "What does that mean?"
Shya smirked. "It means prepare your dignity. It's not surviving tomorrow."
Cassian's lips quirked. "Wonderful."
Much later, when the laughter had faded and everyone had retired, the two girls lay in their adjoining suite — still in matching pajamas, dogs curled at their sides.
The world outside was quiet, Paris lights glittering faintly through the curtains.
Talora scrolled through photos on her phone, whispering, "This one's my favorite."
Shya peeked over — the picture of all of them on the curb, Coke bottles raised, fireworks behind them.
"Yeah," Shya said softly. "Mine too."
And then she reached for her sketchpad, the pencil moving before she could think — sketching Cassian's lopsided grin, Roman's unrestrained laughter, Luna's hands clapping mid-spark, Talora's profile framed in light.
Lines and shades forming the memory before it faded — because she never could stand to let a perfect day vanish unrecorded.
Morning light spilled across the hotel suite, all soft gold and pale pink — the kind of light that promised mischief.
The smell of croissants, butter, and fresh fruit drifted in from the breakfast spread the butlers had arranged by the terrace.
Shya was the first up — barely. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, oversized t-shirt half-tucked into jean shorts, sneakers kicked under the table. She stirred her hot chocolate with a straw.
Talora, neat as ever, was in a white polo and a pale yellow tennis skort, hair braided and tied with a matching ribbon. Pandora was already sitting primly beside her, tail wagging in perfect rhythm.
Roman yawned as he came in, in a soft navy polo and cream chinos. "Morning, everyone."
Shya lifted her mug. "Barely."
Cassian followed, sharp even in casual — olive shorts, black tee, the faintest trace of sleep still softening his face.
Then came chaos — Arya, Tristan, and Luna tumbling in together, still buzzing from excitement.
"Today's the day!" Luna exclaimed, her voice bright. "We're meeting everyone — everyone!"
"Breakfast first," Talora said gently, sliding a plate toward her. "Fuel before fairytales."
Arya was already halfway through a croissant, powdered sugar on his cheek. "Best. Breakfast. Ever."
The Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique gleamed like a dream under chandeliers of twinkling lights. Walls shimmered in pastel hues; racks of dresses sparkled as if enchanted.
Luna gasped audibly. "It's real!"
A kind fairy godmother-in-training — actually a smiling French stylist with lavender hair — clapped her hands. "Who's first, mes chéris?"
"Me!" Luna jumped up, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"Of course you are," Shya murmured fondly, watching as Luna was whisked away to a mirrored chair.
While stylists fluttered around her, choosing a pale blue gown covered in snowflakes, Arya and Tristan were led to the "Royal Knights" section — all armor-patterned tunics and faux-swords that sparkled in the light.
"Sir Arya," the attendant announced grandly, placing a silver helmet on his head.
He puffed up, grinning. "Perfect."
Tristan held up his plastic sword. "I dub thee ridiculous."
"You're just jealous," Arya shot back, striking a pose.
Meanwhile, Luna's transformation was complete. The stylist stepped aside with a proud smile. "Voilà!"
Luna turned to face them — hair braided and glittering, cheeks faintly flushed, her dress catching every glint of light like spun frost.
Talora actually clasped her hands. "You look beautiful."
Luna twirled, beaming. "I feel like Elsa."
Roman bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."
Cassian smiled faintly, softer than usual. "You wear it well."
The group walked out into the sunlight, the younger trio leading the way like miniature royalty.
Mickey and Minnie stood at the entrance to Main Street, arms wide. Luna froze, jaw dropping.
"They're real," she whispered.
"They're people in—" Shya started, but stopped when Luna looked up, eyes shining. "You know what? Yeah. They're real."
Luna threw her arms around Minnie, who giggled (or rather, the performer did). Arya shook hands solemnly with Buzz Lightyear, while Tristan tried to out-flex him for a photo.
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "He's really committing to the part."
Roman laughed. "He's found his hero."
Shya snapped photos as fast as she could — Luna laughing, Arya pretending to save the galaxy, Tristan posing dramatically beside Stitch.
The sunlight caught them all in perfect little flashes: joy, awe, chaos.
Lunch was at Auberge de Cendrillon — chandeliers, pale roses, and staff who greeted them with practiced smiles and thick accents. Their reserved table gleamed with silver cutlery and a view of the castle gardens.
Luna couldn't stop grinning between bites of strawberry crepe. "This is the best day ever."
"Agreed," Arya said through a mouthful of fries.
Tristan nodded solemnly. "I could get used to this."
"Don't," Shya said, laughing. "We'd never get you out of your armor."
Roman leaned back, smirking. "He's not the only one enjoying the pampering."
Cassian gave a side-eye that made Roman snort into his drink.
Talora rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are impossible."
"And yet, you keep us around," Shya teased.
"Questionable decisions," Talora deadpanned — but she was smiling.
They lingered long after dessert, the kind of meal that felt less like an event and more like a pocket of time that stretched and softened, warm and safe.
By early evening, the park had turned to honey and rose-gold. The castle shimmered in the distance, its spires dusted in sunset light.
The Fairytale Three — as Roman had christened them — were still proudly in costume. Luna's gown sparkled with every step, a tiny trail of shimmer following her. Arya and Tristan clanked along in their knight tunics, wooden swords bumping at their sides.
"Attention, royal subjects!" Arya declared, standing atop a low fountain edge. "Princess Luna of Arendelle requires more ice cream!"
Luna giggled, twirling her skirt. "Chocolate, please! And sprinkles!"
Milos sighed in mock despair from a few paces back. "Miss Gill, I think the young squire has already had enough sugar to power an entire Quidditch team."
Shya grinned. "One more cone won't hurt. Famous last words."
Talora was laughing too hard to stop them, handing Luna a napkin before the inevitable drip hit her sleeves.
Cassian was leaning against a lamppost, trying very hard not to smile — and failing spectacularly.
"They're exhausting," he said under his breath.
"They're kids," Shya replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's their job."
Roman raised his phone, catching the trio in a perfect mid-spin — Luna's dress caught by wind, Arya and Tristan pretending to duel in the background. "That one's going in the album."
"Album?" Cassian asked.
Roman smirked. "The digital one Shya forced us to make."
"You're welcome," Shya said. "Now the world can witness your chaos in high definition."
They wandered toward the carousel, which glowed like something straight out of a dream.
A soft waltz floated through the air. Lights flickered in patterns across painted horses, their gilded saddles reflecting the fire of evening.
Luna's gasp was immediate. "Can we? Please?"
Talora nodded. "Go on."
The younger three scrambled aboard, Luna climbing onto a white horse with a golden mane, Arya and Tristan each picking ones that looked the most "battle-ready."
Shya and Talora hung back with the boys, watching as the carousel spun slowly to life — Luna's laughter spilling out like music, the boys pretending to joust mid-rotation.
"They're perfect," Talora murmured, smiling softly.
"Because they don't think about anything," Shya said, resting her chin on her hand. "They just live."
Roman looked at her. "You say that like you don't."
She shot him a playful glance. "I think too much."
Cassian tilted his head slightly. "You feel too much."
Shya smirked. "Rude but accurate."
As the carousel slowed, Luna waved both arms, hair catching the glow. "That was magic!" she shouted, breathless.
Cassian couldn't resist. "You realize you're saying that to four actual wizards, right?"
Luna only giggled harder. "That's different kind of magic."
And somehow, they all knew she was right.
By the time they reached the hotel, the night had folded itself around them like velvet. The younger three were still half in costume — Arya's helmet lopsided, Luna's tiara askew, Tristan refusing to take off his cape.
The suite smelled faintly of sugar and perfume when they entered — the aftermath of too many desserts and too much laughter.
"Baths, pajamas, and bed," Talora said gently, trying to sound like the voice of reason.
"Five more minutes," Arya mumbled, sprawled across a couch.
"Fine," Shya said, collapsing beside him. "But only if someone orders room service desserts."
Roman looked scandalized. "You just had ice cream."
"Different stomach," Shya said immediately. "Dessert stomach."
Cassian muttered, "You're insufferable," but there was warmth behind it.
An hour later, the suite was quiet again — save for the sound of rain faintly pattering outside.
The girls were in matching satin pajamas — soft blush and cream — sitting cross-legged on Talora's bed. Their dogs were curled up at their feet; Pandora snored softly, while Haneera's tail flicked in her sleep.
Talora was scrolling through her photos. "This one," she whispered, turning the phone. It showed Luna mid-spin, her gown billowing like captured starlight. "That's my favorite."
"Good choice," Shya said, sketching that very image in her lap. Pencil strokes soft, deliberate, tender. "It looks like joy."
Talora smiled. "That's what today felt like."
Shya looked up, eyes half-tired, half-luminous. "You know… I think it's kind of impossible not to be happy here."
Talora leaned back against her pillow, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. "Then let's stay happy. At least until tomorrow."
The lamps dimmed, the rain deepened, and the world beyond their suite blurred into a hush of light and sound.
Inside, two girls drifted toward sleep — one dreaming of color and laughter, the other of calm and order — both tethered to the same golden thread that had woven through every hour of the day.
The next morning dawned loud — sunlight spilling across hotel curtains, laughter echoing down the halls, and the faint chaos of everyone trying to get ready at once.
"Talora! Have you seen my sunglasses?" Shya shouted, rummaging through a pile of shopping bags.
"Which pair?" Talora called back from the adjoining suite.
"The only ones that matter!"
Roman's voice carried from the hall. "She means the gold-rimmed ones. She's been complaining about them since breakfast yesterday."
Cassian appeared in the doorway, coffee in hand. "It's a miracle you ever make it to class."
Shya pointed her toothbrush at him. "You're not my mother, Black."
He sipped his coffee unbothered. "Thank Merlin."
Eventually, the chaos turned into something like order:
Talora in pale blue linen shorts and a crisp white blouse, hair tied up neatly; Shya in a cropped tank layered under a loose flannel, jean shorts, and gold hoops glinting in the light; Cassian and Roman both casual but unmistakably polished — dark shorts, light shirts, the kind of effortless charm that screamed old blood and good breeding.
Arya and Tristan tumbled out last, both in matching baseball caps and faces full of pastry crumbs. Luna skipped behind them in her pink sundress, hair braided with ribbons.
Milos held the door open with a faint smile. "Ready for adventure?"
Roman grinned. "Born ready."
Frontierland was all heat and color and laughter — wooden facades, banjos playing from unseen corners, the air heavy with cinnamon churros and popcorn.
"Big Thunder Mountain first," Arya said decisively.
"Why does that sound like a bad idea?" Cassian muttered.
"Because it is," Shya replied cheerfully. "Which is exactly why we're doing it."
They handed their wristbands to the attendant, who bowed them past the waiting line straight to the front. A small group of tourists gaped — and Arya whispered loudly, "We're royalty."
Shya cackled. "Don't feed his ego."
The ride roared to life. Wooden tracks rattled. They plunged into the dark — screams, laughter, and Cassian's faint, horrified "Merlin's beard—!" lost in the wind.
When they stumbled out minutes later, Shya's hair was a storm, Roman's shirt was unbuttoned one too far, and Luna was clutching Arya's arm, eyes wide with delighted terror.
"That—was—amazing!" Arya yelled.
"I think I swallowed air," Cassian said, deadpan.
"Character growth," Shya said. "You survived."
"Barely," he muttered.
The Pirates of the Caribbean ride was next — a cool dark reprieve from the heat outside.
Water lapped gently beneath their boat as they drifted through torch-lit caves and animatronic pirates.
Roman leaned back, smirking. "So this is what Muggle magic feels like."
"Honestly," Talora murmured, eyes wide as a cannon fired in the distance, "it's… impressive."
Cassian tilted his head, watching a projection shimmer across the mist. "They built all this with technology?"
"Yep," Shya said proudly. "No spells, no charms. Just ingenuity and caffeine."
Halfway through, a sudden splash hit their boat — perfectly timed, perfectly cold.
Shya gasped, then burst out laughing. "Oh, no way—"
Roman was soaked. Dripping. Silent.
"Don't," he warned.
Shya snorted. "You look like a sad pirate."
Even Cassian cracked a laugh.
By the time the ride ended, everyone was damp and doubled over with laughter. Luna declared it "the best day ever — again."
They dried off in the afternoon sun, lounging under parasols outside Café de la Boussole.
Milkshakes, churros, cold Cokes, and strawberry sodas covered the table — a sticky, sugar-coated battlefield.
Roman reached for a second churro; Shya slapped his hand lightly. "Share."
"You've had three."
"Artistic metabolism," she said solemnly.
Talora hid her laugh behind her drink. "That's not a real thing."
"It is now."
Arya and Tristan were locked in an arm-wrestling match while Luna narrated dramatically.
"Two knights, one table, infinite glory!"
Cassian sighed, though his lips curved faintly. "They're feral."
"You love it," Talora teased.
He didn't deny it.
The sky softened into gold. Shadows stretched long. Music floated faintly from a nearby parade, brass and laughter and distant applause.
That night, they dined on the terrace of Auberge du Roi Soleil, the castle glittering in the background like liquid starlight.
Fairy lights tangled through the ivy above; waiters floated by with trays of crème brûlée and honeyed duck.
"Is this real life?" Arya asked, staring at the glowing towers.
Shya smiled faintly. "I hope not. It's better."
Roman clinked his glass against hers. "To chaos, then."
Talora lifted hers too. "And to summer."
Cassian added softly, "And to friendship that survives it."
They laughed, ate too much, and stayed until the fireworks began — watching them burst over the castle spires, mirrored in the still lake below.
Back in their suite, the younger kids were out cold within minutes — Luna's tiara slipping sideways, Arya and Tristan tangled in blankets, their half-eaten candy stash between them.
The older four sat on the balcony — the night cool, the stars faint above the glitter of park lights.
Roman leaned back in his chair. "So. What's tomorrow?"
Talora smiled. "Art, shopping, and some calm."
Shya stretched, bare feet propped on the railing. "Finally."
Cassian's eyes flicked toward her — paint-splattered nails, gold jewelry catching the light, that quiet smile she didn't realize she wore when she was happy.
For a rare moment, he didn't overthink. He just sat, letting it all exist exactly as it was.
The laughter. The lights. The comfort.
Magic without needing magic.
The next morning arrived like a sigh — sunlight spilling across the beds, soft music humming through the hotel suite. The air smelled faintly of vanilla waffles and fresh linen.
Shya woke first, stretching lazily. Her hair was a mess of waves; Haneera blinked up at her from the end of the bed, tail thumping once. "Morning, baby," she murmured, scooping the pup up and pressing a kiss to her soft head.
Across the room, Talora was already awake — robe tied neatly, Pandora resting in her lap as she flipped through the day's schedule. "Easy morning," she said without looking up. "Breakfast, the Small World ride, then some art workshops."
"Bless you," Shya said, rolling out of bed. "My legs still hate me from yesterday."
Downstairs, the group gathered in their usual rhythm — the brothers half-asleep, Luna already chattering about which characters she hoped to see again.
Breakfast was slow and indulgent: warm pastries, fruit, juice, and laughter spilling like sunlight across the table.
"Plan for today?" Roman asked, leaning back in his chair.
Talora smiled. "Calm. We've earned it."
Cassian nodded. "For once, something reasonable."
Shya kicked him under the table. "You loved the chaos."
He smirked. "I tolerated it."
They started their morning with the It's a Small World ride, a slow drift through a kaleidoscope of color and music.
The animatronic children twirled in endless rhythm — hundreds of cultures, one endless chorus.
Luna leaned forward, eyes wide. "They're all singing together," she whispered.
"It's meant to show the world connected," Talora explained softly, as the boats glided past tiny islands of light and laughter. "Different voices, same song."
Shya rested her chin on her hands, watching the painted skies above. "It's… oddly beautiful."
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "You getting sentimental, Gill?"
She shrugged. "Maybe a little."
Roman smirked. "Don't worry. We won't tell."
As they stepped off the boat, the melody lingered — light and childish, but somehow profound.
Tristan was humming it under his breath, Arya laughing as they walked out into the sun.
By late morning, they'd found the Disney Animation Academy — a bright, airy room lined with sketches, paint sets, and framed concept art. The group settled into a row of seats, pencils in hand.
Their instructor, a smiling French artist named Mireille, stood at the front. "Today," she announced, "we will learn to draw the expression of emotion — the eyes. You will choose any character you like."
Shya's eyes lit up. "Finally, something I'm good at."
Talora smiled knowingly. "You've been waiting all trip."
Luna chose to draw Elsa ("Obviously"), while Arya tried to sketch Buzz Lightyear and ended up creating something more like a potato in armor.
Roman's sketch was surprisingly precise — clean lines and a strong jaw. "He's suspiciously good at this," Shya whispered to Cassian. "Is this some hidden Slytherin skill?"
Cassian didn't answer. He was focused — his lines softer, deliberate.
When Mireille passed behind him, she paused. "Très bien," she said quietly. "You draw like someone who listens more than they speak."
Shya glanced over at his paper and blinked. He'd drawn her — hair wild, expression fierce, eyes alive.
She looked up quickly, pretending to focus on her own page. "Show-off."
He smirked faintly. "You were sitting still."
"Barely," she muttered.
Meanwhile, Talora had sketched something elegant and balanced — the outline of a phoenix, feathers curling with perfect symmetry.
"It's beautiful," Roman said, leaning closer. "Very… you."
Talora's cheeks flushed slightly. "It's nothing special."
Roman smiled. "That's the point. You make it look effortless."
When the class ended, they all compared sketches, teasing, laughing, and packing their drawings like tiny treasures.
By afternoon, the sun was high and golden.
They wandered down Main Street — a swirl of pastel storefronts, music boxes, and the smell of caramel popcorn.
Shya stopped at a display of pins, running her fingers over a small golden star. "We should get something matching," she said suddenly. "To remember this."
Talora nodded. "Something small. Simple."
Roman picked out a castle pin, Cassian a silver compass. Luna gravitated to a sparkly blue heart.
In the end, they each chose one charm — different shapes, same color. Gold and light.
"Now we match," Luna declared proudly, clutching hers like treasure.
"Don't lose it," Arya said, mock-serious. "It's our symbol of unity."
Shya snorted. "You've been reading too many comics."
Arya grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
They moved on — stopping for photos, churros, and far too much cotton candy. The dogs, safely tucked in their carriers, peeked out occasionally for bits of popcorn or tiny crumbs of waffle.
As dusk fell, they found their spot before the castle for the Disney Illuminations show.
The sky deepened into indigo, the castle glowing like a dream. Music swelled — orchestral and haunting — as fountains burst into color and light.
Luna gasped audibly. "It's real magic."
Shya watched the colors reflect across her friends' faces — blue, gold, pink, starlight — all of it swirling together.
Beside her, Cassian's usual composure was gone, replaced by something quiet and open. Roman's arm brushed Talora's as they both looked up at the fireworks, and for once, neither said a word.
When the final burst faded into a sky of silver dust, the crowd cheered softly, as though afraid to break the spell.
Back in their suite, everyone moved slower — tired but happy. The younger kids were asleep within minutes.
The older four sat on the balcony, the castle glowing faintly in the distance.
Talora's voice was soft. "This might be my favorite day."
Shya nodded. "Same. It felt like… us."
Roman smiled, gaze distant. "The chaos was good. But this—this is better."
Cassian's hand rested loosely on the arm of his chair. "Still chaos. Just quieter."
Shya laughed. "You'd know."
They fell into comfortable silence, the night warm and golden around them.
Inside, sketches and souvenirs lay scattered across the table — tiny reminders of the day's beauty.
Outside, the world glittered.
And somewhere between them — friendship, laughter, and a kind of magic that didn't need spells at all.
Morning came quietly.
Soft light spilled across the suite, warm and golden, catching on half-packed shopping bags and the delicate shimmer of souvenirs on the table.
Outside, the air hummed faintly with music from the park — muted now, gentle, like a lullaby.
Talora stretched beneath her crisp white sheets, Pandora curled up against her hip.
The pup yawned, tongue peeking out before promptly rolling over to demand belly rubs.
"Morning, Pando," she whispered, smiling. "It's your mommy's spa day."
In the next room, Shya's alarm buzzed softly — the kind of tune that only existed to be ignored.
"Five more minutes," she mumbled, burying her face in her pillow.
Haneera disagreed, pawing at her hoodie until she groaned and sat up. "You're lucky you're cute," Shya muttered, pulling her hair into a messy bun.
When the girls met in the shared suite, they were already glowing with that lazy luxury of vacation.
Talora wore soft cream linen shorts and a blush camisole; her hair braided back loosely.
Shya, true to herself, had thrown on an oversized tee over biker shorts — paint smudges faint on her nails, jewelry gleaming in the sunlight.
"You ready?" Talora asked, looping an arm through hers.
Shya grinned. "Always. Lead the way to self-care."
The Disneyland Hotel Spa & Retreat felt like stepping into another world.
Everything gleamed — marble floors veined with rose gold, soft harp music drifting through the air, and the faint scent of jasmine and sea salt.
"Welcome, Miss Gill, Miss Livanthos," the attendant said warmly. "Your cabana is ready."
They were led into a private suite with two massage tables, bowls of flower petals, and a view of the shimmering pool below.
White robes embroidered with their initials hung waiting — SG and TL, stitched in gold.
Shya shrugged into hers, turning to admire the embroidery. "I could get used to this."
Talora laughed softly. "You already have."
Facials came first — cool masks scented with honey and lotus, a gentle hum of enchanted steam diffusers keeping the air warm and sweet.
Then massages, both girls blissfully quiet except for the occasional muffled sigh.
"Okay," Shya said at one point, voice dreamy. "If I ever go missing, check here first."
Talora's laugh was lazy, content. "Noted."
Later, they reclined in their cabana robes, sipping chilled mocktails — Shya's was a raspberry mojito, Talora's a cucumber lemonade — their nails drying in perfect glossy finishes.
The manicurist smiled, admiring her work. "Two very different styles," she said fondly.
Shya's nails were a moody midnight blue with tiny golden stars hand-painted across them.
Talora's were a sheer pink shimmer — understated, timeless, elegant.
"They suit you," the woman said, stepping back.
"They really do," Talora agreed, glancing at Shya's. "Yours look like a night sky."
Shya smirked. "Yours look like bottled sunlight. Balance, Bob."
"Balance," Talora echoed with a small grin.
Meanwhile, across the resort, Cassian and Roman were discovering the luxury spa for gentlemen — reluctantly.
Roman peered around the marble room. "Do we… sit? Or talk? Is there a script for this?"
Cassian sighed, already seated. "You sit. You relax. You pretend not to exist for an hour."
"I can do that," Roman said cheerfully, before immediately ruining it by talking through his entire facial.
When the attendants left, Cassian leaned back in silence, eyes closed, steam curling around him.
He'd never realized how hard it was to not think — about home, about what awaited them beyond this golden pocket of calm.
But then he thought of the girls — of Shya laughing in the sunlight, Talora's calm steadiness — and something in him eased.
By late afternoon, the group reunited by the D-Ticket Pool — the air thick with chlorine and laughter.
Henry and Milos lounged near the younger kids, occasionally pretending not to see Arya and Tristan's increasingly daring pool games.
Luna floated past in an inflatable swan, hair haloed by sunlight.
Shya and Talora arrived in matching robes, carrying two trays of desserts and mocktails.
"Peace offerings," Shya announced.
Roman grinned from the edge of the pool. "You mean bribes."
"Semantics," she said, handing him a chilled glass. "Now drink and admire how relaxed we look."
Cassian eyed her thoughtfully. "You do look… different."
"Like what?" she asked.
"Like someone who didn't threaten anyone for twelve hours."
Shya laughed. "Don't ruin my streak."
Talora joined Roman and Luna by the shallow end, Pandora curled at her feet beneath a shade umbrella.
"This," she said, sinking into a lounge chair, "is what heaven must feel like."
"Cuter swimsuits though," Shya replied, flicking water at her.
Roman leaned back, watching them bicker with a faint smile. "You realize tomorrow's going to be chaos again."
"Then we enjoy the calm," Talora said.
The sun dipped low over the horizon, turning the pool water molten gold.
Music played softly from hidden speakers — some timeless jazz tune that made everything feel slower, richer.
The group drifted in and out of conversation — Luna sketching on a napkin, Arya and Tristan building towel forts, Cassian absently reading, Roman narrating everything like a dramatic announcer.
Shya glanced over, eyes soft. "This is nice."
Cassian looked up. "You sound surprised."
"Maybe I am," she admitted. "Usually peace feels… fake. But this—" she gestured to the sunset, the laughter, the shared warmth— "this feels earned."
He said nothing, only nodded. Sometimes silence was the truest kind of agreement.
Dinner that night was light — garden salads, pasta, little cakes that shimmered faintly under the lights.
The air buzzed with quiet excitement; tomorrow was the birthday.
When they returned to their suites, the world felt muffled — cozy, safe.
The younger kids were already half-asleep, Luna's sketchbook open beside her.
Talora stood by the window, the castle lights flickering far away. Shya joined her, shoulder brushing shoulder.
"You ready for tomorrow?" Shya asked.
Talora smiled. "For once, yeah. It feels right."
They stood like that a while longer — two girls bathed in starlight, their reflections soft in the glass.
"Happy almost-birthday, Bob," Shya said.
"Thanks, Bob," Talora whispered back.
The lights dimmed.
Outside, fireworks began again — gentle, quiet bursts that faded before they reached the sky.
Inside, laughter softened into sleep.
And tomorrow, Paris would wake to celebrate them.
Golden light spilled through the sheer curtains of the Disneyland Hotel suite, bouncing off crystal fixtures and the pale rose walls. Someone had opened the balcony doors; the distant hum of the park drifted in with the smell of warm pastries and jasmine.
Room service had arrived early — silver trays still gleamed on the sideboard, lids lifted to reveal fresh croissants, fruit, and little pots of Nutella. The cappuccinos had cooled slightly in their porcelain cups.
The peace lasted all of four seconds.
"WAKE UP!" Tristan yelled, pounding on Talora's door. "It's your birthday!"
Pandora barked joyfully, spinning in excited circles. From the next room came Haneera's low growl — her version of enthusiasm — followed by the sound of Shya stumbling out of bed.
"Why are you shouting at the crack of dawn?" Shya mumbled, hair a wild halo.
"It's ten!" Arya said indignantly.
"That's the crack of dawn on holiday."
Talora emerged, eyes half-open, in pale silk pajamas and gold-thread slippers. "Remind me," she said, "why I didn't ask for a silent retreat for my birthday."
"Because you love us," Shya said smugly, stealing a croissant off the tray and dropping onto the couch beside her.
"I regret my life choices."
"No, you don't," Shya replied, offering her half the croissant. "Happy birthday, Bob."
Talora smiled despite herself. "Thanks, Bob."
They'd pushed the breakfast trays aside to make room for ribbons and boxes.
Someone (probably Luna) had conjured floating balloons shaped like stars, and the whole room shimmered softly in the morning light.
Pandora sat neatly by Talora's feet, tail wagging. Haneera sprawled beside Shya, regal as ever.
"All right," Shya announced, perched cross-legged on the carpet. "Gifts before coffee."
"Mutiny," Cassian muttered from his chair.
"Democracy," Shya countered.
Arya and Tristan stepped forward, proudly holding a box that looked like it had survived a war.
Inside: a LEGO castle — pastel bricks, glitter glue on the turrets, and a moat of blue foil wrappers.
"It's us at Disneyland!" Tristan said. "See? That's you!"
Talora leaned closer to see the tiny LEGO figurine wearing a paper crown. "I look stunning."
Arya grinned. "It took us hours. We didn't even fight once."
"That's the real miracle," Shya said, mock-somber.
Luna's present glowed faintly under the morning light.
"It's a moonflower necklace," she said softly. "I charmed it to glow when you're calm. Daddy helped."
Talora gasped as she lifted it — pale silver, delicate, softly luminous. "Luna, it's beautiful."
Luna beamed. "Now we'll match. Mine glows too."
Shya sighed dramatically. "How does one compete with emotional craftsmanship?"
Roman and Cassian shared an amused look before Cassian handed her a slim navy box.
Inside was a blue-feather quill, iridescent and light.
"It refills itself with any color you touch," Cassian explained. "Even light."
Roman added, "And it's impossible to lose. It finds its owner. Thought you'd appreciate that level of loyalty."
Talora smiled, eyes glinting. "Perfect for a girl with a chronic case of misplaced belongings."
"See?" Roman said smugly. "We think."
Shya's gift was wrapped in translucent tissue paper that shimmered with a faint gold sheen.
"Not from my parents this time," she said. "From me."
Talora unwrapped it carefully — and gasped.
The ivory scarf from Madame Rochelle's, embroidered with gold-thread constellations that moved subtly in the light.
"It changes with the moon," Shya said proudly. "Like you."
Talora blinked, smiling through the warmth welling in her chest. "You remembered."
"Of course I did," Shya said softly. "I'm terrifyingly good at presents."
The rest of the day unfolded like sunlight over silk — slow, warm, and golden.
Letters arrived throughout the morning from friends scattered across the globe:
Lisa (Magical Mexico): a shawl woven with charmed marigold thread that shifted color with mood.
Mandy (Muggle Greece): a fine gold anklet with sapphire wave charms.
Padma (Muggle Texas): a vintage camera engraved with a T.L — so you can remember everything.
The camera clicked to life, catching them all in motion — Shya's grin, Luna's delighted gasp, Roman trying not to smile.
By late afternoon, wrapping paper littered the floor. The pups were asleep under the table. Talora sat by the window, scarf draped around her shoulders, looking out at the pink sky.
"This might be the first birthday without a single explosion," she mused.
"Give it time," Shya said, stretching out beside her. "Dinner hasn't happened yet."
Sunset painted the room in rose-gold light, and chaos took its throne.
"Why is there lip gloss on my tie?" Roman demanded.
"Because you left it unattended," Shya called, twisting her hair up.
Cassian sighed. "You all act like getting ready is a competitive sport."
"It is," Talora said, smoothing down her champagne-colored dress in the mirror. Pandora sat obediently at her feet, a pearl-studded collar gleaming.
Shya, in her black silk mini dress and gold bomber jacket, fastened her kara over her Van Cleef bracelet. The steel and gold glinted side by side — strength and shine in perfect balance.
"Do I look presentable enough to terrify a maître d'?" she asked.
"You look like art," Talora replied simply.
Shya smirked. "Then mission accomplished."
The California Grill shimmered under soft amber lights, its glass walls catching the glow of the fireworks from across the park. Every table glowed with flickering candles and white lilies — luxurious, but not ostentatious.
Talora's parents were already seated when the group arrived, both immaculately dressed in quiet neutrals — her mother in a cream dress with a gold cuff bracelet, her father in a tailored suit, warmth radiating from them both.
"Happy birthday, darling," her mother said, standing to kiss her cheek. "You look beautiful."
Talora smiled, cheeks flushed. "You always say that."
"Because it's true every year," her father said, rising to pull out her chair.
Moments later, the Gills arrived — polished, poised, and effortlessly elegant. Mrs. Gill wore a minimalist black dress with delicate gold accents; Mr. Gill greeted the Livanthoses with easy charm, the kind of quiet confidence that came from old money and good manners.
The kids followed, their energy bright and uncontainable — Shya radiant in black silk and gold, Cassian and Roman perfectly pressed, Luna practically glowing.
Dinner was a study in easy luxury — fresh salmon in beurre blanc, handmade pasta, soft music in the background, and a dessert cart that could have doubled as art. The conversation moved easily between parents and children, laughter punctuated by teasing.
Tristan proudly declared that he was "officially the best brother in the world" for the LEGO castle, to which Arya protested, "I did most of it!" prompting good-natured laughter all around.
And then — when the last plates were cleared and the dessert wine arrived — Mrs. Livanthos reached into her handbag and drew out a long, slim box, red with gold lettering.
"Before we go to dessert," she said softly, "there's one last thing."
She set it before her daughter. "From us."
Talora hesitated only a moment before opening it — and then gasped.
Inside lay the Panthère de Cartier necklace in rose gold, sleek and gleaming, its diamond eyes catching the candlelight. The chain looked impossibly fine against the velvet, like a strand of sunlight.
"Oh," she breathed, fingers brushing the pendant.
Her mother smiled. "I'm so proud of the young lady you are becoming, so you needed something to show that you are elegant but strong."
Her father added quietly, "Strength and grace in equal measure."
Talora blinked fast, smiling through it. "It's perfect."
Shya grinned across the table. "And totally unfair. You just one-upped everyone's birthday gifts for the next decade."
Laughter rolled around the table again — warm, easy, familiar.
Then, as the champagne flutes were refilled, Mr. Gill placed a smaller red velvet box beside Shya. She smiled knowingly before sliding it across to Talora.
"From my family," Shya said lightly. "Technically from my parents, but I supervised."
Inside lay the matching Panthère bracelet, rose gold its twin diamond eyes glinting in perfect symmetry with the necklace.
Talora stared at it, then back at Shya. "You're ridiculous."
"Rich," Shya corrected, smug. "There's a difference."
Talora laughed, her voice catching. "You're impossible."
"And yet you love me," Shya said sweetly.
"Unfortunately," Talora murmured — but the look between them said otherwise.
The parents exchanged smiles, quietly understanding.
Later that evening, the suite glowed in low lamplight. The park's fireworks burst through the windows in distant, muted color — pinks, golds, and blues reflected in the glass.
Inside, chaos had gentled into calm. Arya and Tristan sprawled on the couch, building yet another LEGO contraption. Luna had curled up with Pandora, her moonflower necklace faintly glowing in the dim light.
Cassian and Roman sat near the balcony, arguing quietly over whether Star Tours or Soarin' was superior — voices low, comfortable, the easy rhythm of friends.
On the balcony, the girls leaned against the railing — when shya quietly pulled out another box, "Bob you've already given me enough" Talora protested
Shya immediately opened the box pulled out a Gold matching Panthère bracelet, and slipped it on.
"WOW! you can't even let me have one day?! " Talora teased,
"Bob, I thought you wanted us to match, and you know I can't help myself when I see something I like! I can return it if you don't want to match..." Shya mumbled.
"Hahaha you should see your face, I'm just teasing you Bob, keep it on, always a duo" Talora reassured her.
"Always a duo, Bob" Shya confirmed.
The Panthère necklace caught the light when Talora turned her head.
"Did you have a good birthday?" Shya asked softly, breaking the comfortable silence.
"The best," Talora said, resting her chin on her arms. "Because you were all here."
"Gross," Shya murmured, but her smile betrayed her.
They both laughed — quiet, exhausted, happy.
The final fireworks flared above them, golden sparks cascading like falling stars.
Pandora and Haneera padded onto the balcony, curling against their owners' feet.
And for a long while, no one said a thing — just the sound of Paris breathing below, of laughter echoing faintly through the night, and the deep, wordless knowing that this — right here — was what happiness was supposed to feel like.