Kur was truly a dreadfully dark place. Lit only by the faint glow of torches and the eerie light emanating from the walls.
Rhyssand walked beside Ereshkigal, his wings tucked tightly against his back, his eyes shadowed with grief and exhaustion. Still, he wondered how she dealt with an entire realm, void of conflict, yes. But lonely. His only ally was, realistically, His father, and now he was dead, which left his aunt was not in fact blood-related, still…Every bit of love adds up, he remembered Artizea would say.
The weight of it all pressed heavily on him: the loss, the responsibilities, and the fractured relationships left in the wake of the celestial war.
Ereshkigal walked in silence for a time before finally speaking, her voice calm but tinged with something uncharacteristically soft."You should wish to brace yourself," she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
Rhyssand frowned. "Is she dead?"
She stopped, "Worse." Turning to face him fully. Her gaze, so similar yet so different from Ishtar's, met his. "She's pregnant."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting.
He stared at her, his mind reeling. "What?" he said, his voice sharper than he intended. "How is that possible ?"
"That I do not know, Nor what I want to know what she did to make your father…" She grimaced, "But unfortunately, it is your father's. You know well, when we celestials marry, we can only conceive with their other Half; It is different if one is not bound to another."
"Now? After everything?" He managed.
She nodded, "The child is alive and growing. You are going to have a sister."
He ran a hand through his hair, his wings twitching slightly.
"A sister," he repeated, as if saying it aloud would make it easier to comprehend.
Ereshkigal stepped closer, her tone softening. "I thought you should know. This sibling of yours did not ask to be born into all of this."
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "How can I help her when I can barely make sense of my place in all of this?"
Ereshkigal placed a hand on his shoulder, her gaze steady. "You don't have to make sense of it, Rhys. You just have to decide who you want to be for her. This child will look to you, not just as a brother but as a protector. You have a chance to give her something you did not have—a family, love."
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought back the whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "And Ishtar? What happens to her? She'll use the child, manipulate her the way she tried to manipulate me. My father, the council."
Ereshkigal's expression hardened. "Not while she's in Kur. However, the child cannot stay here. The are dangers here for worse than my sister, Spirits, lost souls, and worse, it is no place to raise a child… He should know.
"When Jacques was taken from me… being the heir to this, he would have been easily taken advantage of and possessed. I did not see him until he turned sixteen; by then, I knew nothing of my son. I suppose that is why I could not grieve his death as a mother should have." She paused, "I say this to you because only you may understand."
The weight of her words settled over him. Despite his grief and bitterness, he felt a flicker of something—hope, perhaps, or the faintest sense of purpose.
"I will do what I can," he said finally, his voice quieter now.
Ereshkigal nodded.
As Rhys left the halls of Kur, his mind was a storm of conflicting emotions.
He had lost so much—his father, his innocence, his illusions about his family.
But now, amidst the ashes of it all, there was the promise of something new.
A family, A wife. A child of his own on the way, and now a sister.
And for them, he would try to be the best protector he can be.
As they deserved.
The palace was quiet at this hour, the moon casting silver light over the grand entrance. As Rhyssand landed, his wings stirring the air, the guards bowed their heads in unison.
"Your Highness."
He barely acknowledged them, his mind already ahead—already with her.
Then, a familiar voice rang out.
"Rhys!"
He turned just in time to see Eugene striding toward him, arms crossed, expression one of pure exasperation.
"Artizea is a monster."
Four words. None of them were new.
Rhyssand chuckled, shaking his head. "Do not worry, I am off to tame the beast."
Eugene only sighed dramatically, muttering, "Good luck," before disappearing down the hall to his purgatives.
Rhyssand did not waste another second. He took long strides toward their chambers, anticipation humming through his veins. He had not been here as much as he wanted to be, but tonight, that would change. Tonight, he was home. The sound of water and chatter greeted him before he even stepped inside the dragons' chamber. Peeking through the doors, he found her there—soaking in the bath, her damp air, floating on the surface, eyes closed as if trying to melt away the weight of the day. She always did this now, more than before.
"You did not have to draw the bath yourself," Artizea murmured, as Madeline sprinkled crushed lavender into the water.
Madeline snorted lightly. "And risk you falling asleep again because some unattentive palace maid forgot to check the herbs? Not happening on my watch."
She smirked. "It wasn't her fault I fell asleep."
Madeline straightened, hands on her hips. "You are right, It is your husband's. I outta give him a piece of my mind."
That earned a small laugh—just in time for the door to creak open.
"Hello, ladies," came a smooth, velvety voice.
Artizea opened her eyes and turned her head lazily as Rhyssand stepped into view, leaning casually against the door frame. "You are back."
His eyes swept over the room before landing, inevitably, on her. "I am back."
"Can I help you, Your Majesty?" Madeline asked flatly.
He grinned. "Yes. I was wondering if I could steal a moment with my very radiant wife."
Madeline turned, grabbing a folded towel with unnecessary force. "Fine. But remember what the masters said—"
He raised a hand in surrender, already laughing. "No matter how persuasive she can be. I know."
She gave Artizea the same pointed look. "We are trying to keep her blood pressure steady on the ground, not send it into the clouds."
Artizea groaned, stressing his words dramatically. "Okay~ Mads." she huffed, then slid down in the water, nose in.
"Send mine up too, why don't you—" Madeline rolled her eyes, tossed the towel at Rhyssand's chest, and marched toward the door. "And if I hear even a single moan—"
"Then you will use your celestial away spray—" he quipped. "I know, Mads."
"Only my friends call me by that name." She said firmly.
Before he could reply, the door shut with a thud. He turned back to his queen, eyes darkening with heat as he approached the bath. "I don't think she likes me."
She smirked. "I will talk to her."
"Do not trouble yourself." He smiled, forgetting everything outside those doors. "Besides, I need to talk to you."
Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she just looked at him."What's the matter?" She said.
He exhaled, his wings retracting as he stripped off his cloak, then his tunic. Without hesitation, he stepped into the oversized tub, the warm water enveloping him as he settled behind her. She didn't protest when he pulled her gently against him, her back resting against his chest. Slowly, carefully, he slipped his hands beneath her swollen stomach, lifting some of the weight off her. A relieved sigh escaped her lips. "Better?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She nodded, melting into his touch. "Much."
Rhyssand closed his eyes, breathing her in. He had not realized how much he needed this—just her, in his arms, safe, whole. But tonight, there was more on his mind than the simple relief of being home.
He exhaled heavily.
She turned her head slightly, eyes searching his. "What is it you need to tell me?"
Rhyssand hesitated, but there was no avoiding this. "My mother…" he started, voice low. "… is pregnant."
Artizea stiffened slightly, but she did not speak. She just listened.
He continued. "And now… I am the only one who can look after the child. It is to be a girl, they say." He swallowed hard, his grip on her stomach tightening slightly. "But I can't help but feel like I am robbing you of something. That moment where It is just us and our child."
For a moment, there was only silence. He braced himself for anger, for frustration, for anything but what she did next. She turned fully in his arms, cupping his face with wet, delicate fingers.
"Then let's raise them together."
He blinked.
"As a real family, the two as siblings, " she whispered.
She wasn't just saying it—she meant it. And in that moment, he realized something. He had spent his whole life carrying burdens alone. But not anymore. Not with her. A slow, almost disbelieving smile tugged at his lips before he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers.
"A real family," he decreed.
The next morning, Artizea stood before her father in the throne room, Rhyssand at her side.
Gilgamesh's expression was unreadable from the knees he had just heard.
Finally, he spoke.
"You are certain about this, Daughter?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "I want to raise her as my own. We both do."
The king turned to Rhyssand, searching, measuring. The young king met his gaze without flinching.
After a long pause, "Very well…" Gilgamesh said, leaning back against the throne.
"However, the child will remain a Rimat until further observation. But she may live as one of us until she has proven to be… different."
Artizea let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. She and Rhyssand bowed their heads in gratitude. "Thank you, Father."
The king said nothing more, simply waving his hand in dismissal. But as they turned to leave, Artizea swore she saw something soften in his gaze—just for a moment.
Pride.
Months had gone by. Until the time had come to make the long-awaited journey to the celestial realm, for a special someone… As Rhyssand and Artizea entered the grand halls of the Celestial Palace, the weight of what they were about to do settled over them. The halls were eerily quiet, the presence of the Celestial Council looming in the air.
Then, in the center of the chamber, they saw her.
A tiny bundle wrapped in soft silks, her breathing steady and peaceful.
Their daughter.
Rhyssand approached first, carefully lifting the newborn into his arms. She was impossibly small, her features delicate, her tiny fingers curling slightly in her sleep. His heart clenched.
Artizea stepped closer, looking down at the baby girl, warmth flooding her chest.
"Seraphina," she murmured.
Rhyssand looked at her, brow raised.
She met his gaze, a small smile playing at her lips. "The girl's name I liked the most. Let's name her Seraphina."
For a moment, Rhyssand said nothing—just stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time all over again. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Seraphina," he repeated, looking down at the baby in his arms. "It suits her."
A council member stepped forward, a thick scroll in his hands.
"To finalize guardianship, you both must sign."
The contract was unfurled before them. Without hesitation, they each took a pen. Side by side, their hands moved in unison, ink flowing across parchment.
A. Pendragon & R. Pendragon.
As soon as the ink dried, Rhyssand exhaled deeply, like a weight he had been carrying alone had finally been lifted, then gently cradled Seraphina closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Artizea reached out, brushing her fingers over the baby's tiny hands.
"Let's go home," he whispered
`Now all that was left was awaiting her brother or sister.
To complete their new family.
The nursery was no longer just a space for one child—it was now prepared for two.
Artizea made sure of it, arranging everything meticulously, from the softest blankets to the sturdiest crib.
The room was a perfect blend of their worlds—gold and deep blue, celestial and royal.
Seraphina, despite her young age, adjusted quickly. She was already comfortable in Artizea's arms, curling into her warmth without hesitation.
Elaine was the first to barge in, practically glowing with excitement.
"Oh, look at you, little star!" she cooed, sweeping Seraphina up in her arms.
The poor baby barely had time to blink before being smothered in affection. "You are going to be so loved, I promise."
Arthur strolled in behind her, arms crossed, amusement playing at the corner of his lips.
"Well, well, Rhyssand, just a few months ago, you were the most eligible bachelor in all the realms. Now look at you—husband, father of one, soon to be two. Tell me, how does it feel?"
Rhyssand, who had been adjusting one of the cribs, simply raised a brow. "It feels like I should throw you out of this nursery," he quipped dryly.
Arthur barked out a laugh, while Eugene sighed heavily from the doorway.
Gilgamesh arrived not long after, surveying the scene in silence. When he approached the crib where his grandson would soon sleep, he glanced at Seraphina in Elaine's arms.
Arthuria, standing beside him, smirked.
"A fighting spirit," she mused, watching how Seraphina's tiny fists clenched even in sleep. "Perfect for a Pendragon, don't you think, Gil?"
He let out a long, suffering sigh, "I suppose," he muttered in defeat.
Adoption was not a thing in any generation before him; unless there was no heir, the blood must be untainted.
That was the law.
But if it was one thing he learned as of the latest events, it was that the future was now in the hands of his children and their choices, and wherever it may lead them. It was time they started their legacy. Without the ashes of the past.