4 YEARS LATER..
The cherry grove was alive with whispers of the wind, carrying the scent of blossoms across the serene landscape. The trees stood tall, their branches laden with blooms that danced in the gentle breeze, creating a tranquil canopy of pink and white.
"Hi, Mom," Rhyssand said softly, his voice breaking the stillness, as his dark hair swayed around his shoulders while his golden eyes shimmered with emotion as he looked at the grave. "I brought the children, this time."
Callisto peered up at him, then at the stone. His little brow furrowed. "I don't see anyone, Papa. Just… stone."
Rhyssand chuckled softly. "That's because they're here in spirit. The stones just help us find them."
Callisto glanced around the grove, then cupped his hands around his mouth."Hello, spirits!" A beat of silence. "…Why don't they speak back?" he asked, puzzled.
Rhyssand thought for a moment, choosing his words wisely. "Spirits are like… pieces of someone who once could do all the things you do now—talk, laugh, run. But when they leave this world, we keep those pieces in our hearts. That's how we remember them. That's how they stay with us. Understand, Son?"
Callisto nodded slowly.
Rhyssand gave a faint smile, "You have got a lot of your mother's spirit, you know. Strong, and brave. Nothing of me," he pouted.
Callisto grinned. "Don't be jealous, Papa. I got your eyes."
Rhyssand ruffled his son's hair. "I am not jealous," he said gently. "I am as proud as any father can be." his gaze drifted back to the grave. Demeter.
Callisto's voice dropped, uncertain. "Still, I wish I could see them…"
"Try wishing again during the next lantern rite," Rhyssand offered. "And maybe, just maybe, it'll turn into a shooting star and come true."
The boy pouted exactly like his father. "Would that not be cheating?"
"Cheating?"
"The other kids say you rule the stars. They call me a god. But… what if I don't want to be a god?"
Rhyssand's expression softened as he adjusted the flowers at Sarah's grave.
"Did you know—Your grandmother was human?" he said,
Callisto's head tilted up, "Really?"
Rhyssand nodded, "She was. My father, your grandfather, fell in love with her at this very same cherry tree."
They look up above, watching the sway of the cherries, "And then they had me, then I fell in love with your mother, then we had you.
Callisto blinked. "Does that mean I am human too?"
Rhyssand nodded. "More than you think, thanks to your mother. You can tell your friends that the next time they call you a god. You're my legacy."
From his other arm, Seraphina's voice piped up, small and curious. "Which one is Grandpa?"
Rhyssand stilled. He did not wish to lie to her. But after what had happened the last time, the way she had looked at Ishtar with wide, frightened eyes, he knew: for Seraphina's sake, he had to be more than just her brother. He had to be her father.
3 years prior.
Rhyssand had avoided this, ignoring the part of him that whispered, she deserved to see her daughter at least once. Despite his fury, despite everything she had done, there was something deeply, fundamentally wrong about denying a mother the sight of her child.
Even a mother like Ishtar.
He landed at the entrance to the underworld, Ereshkigal waiting for him. Her gaze flickered to the two children in his arms. Falling into pace with his steps.
"The child doesn't deserve this," she said simply. "Think about what's best for her, what's best for her physic—
Rhyssand exhaled, slowly. "If I had one chance to see my mother, I would take it, and I know—she would say I was doing the right thing, even under the circumstances."
Ereshkigal glanced sideways. Her expression softened.
"… My father would too."
Callisto's small fingers clung tightly to his dragon toy in his cradle, Seraphina, nestled in Rhyssand's other arm, refusing to be confined to a moving box. She gazed around with wide, curious eyes as they walked through the dim corridors of the underworld.
Until she saw Ishtar.
The chains that bound the once-great goddess glowed faintly, suppressing her divine power, reducing her to nothing more than a prisoner in the dark.
She looked tired, shadows pooling beneath her faded yellow eyes as she lifted her head at the sound of approaching footsteps.
And then she saw them.
Her children.
She inhaled sharply, her lips parting, but no words came.
Seraphina stared at her—her true mother—but there was no recognition. No flicker of familiarity.
Nothing.
She did not know this woman.
To Seraphina, Artizea was her real mother. The only mother she had ever known.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then, finally, Ishtar spoke.
"Sera…" her voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.
Seraphina flinched, then a soft whimper escaped her, her little fingers curling into Rhyssand's tunic as she turned away, burying her face in his shoulder.
It was barely a sound. Barely a plea. But it shattered everything.
Rhyssand held her close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. His heart clenched.
He had been angry. He was still angry. But this? "I know," he murmured, "I am sorry. I do not know what I was thinking."
Callisto, silent the entire time, peeked out from the carrier, his tiny wings fluttering anxiously. His gaze flickered toward the chained goddess—then quickly back to the ground. He did not know her either.
Ereshkigal was there in an instant, "I shall take them," she said softly, taking Seraphina from Rhyssand gently.
Seraphina clung to Rhyssand still, but at his gentle nod and a stroke of her hair soothingly, she did.
Callisto got frightened, "Papa—"
Then Rhyssand knelt beside him, brushing a hand through his hair. "I will be right there, little dove," he said softly. "Okay?"
Callisto nodded slowly before Ereshkigal took the handle. With a final glance back at his father, the goddess led them out of the prison, their small figures disappearing into the shadows.
Ishtar sobbed softly, trembling against the chains."When will I see her again?" she whispered, voice breaking.
Rhyssand stood silent for a long, cold moment. Then his voice cut through the silence.
"Tell me the truth," His jaw clenched. "Did my father want to be a part of Seraphina's conception?"
"I did not force him—"
"ENOUGH!" Rhyssand's roar cracked against the walls, sharp enough to silence even her tears. His chest heaved, fury barely contained. "My father hated you, and for years, I never knew why. Now I do. And it was all for me." His voice dropped, shaking, though his eyes burned with fire. "And so, I need to know for her. So that when she asks me if she was a mistake… if she was wanted… if she wasn't just another pawn in your reckless game of realms, I will have an answer."
Ishtar closed her eyes, trembling. Finally, she shook her head.
Rhyssand's jaw tightened. He gave the smallest nod, as if sealing away the last shred of the bond he reluctantly let remain, then turned to leave.
"Take care of her," Ishtar pleaded, her voice raw and desperate. "Please…"
Rhyssand paused at the door. "…I will," he said at last, and walked away.
So he turned slowly to the second grave, his expression growing more solemn.
"This is Demeter Rimat…" he said, voice low, "Your grandfather."
Seraphina shifted in his hold, her wide golden eyes fixed on him with unspoken questions. Rhyssand kissed the crown of her midnight-dark hair.
"He… loved in his way," Rhyssand murmured. "And despite everything, I think he'd be proud."
Seraphina tilted her head. "Grandpa at the palace is cooler," she whispered, almost shyly.
Rhyssand smiled faintly, placing a hand on each gravestone, head bowed. "Always remember," he said to Seraphina, his voice gentler still. "You are your own person, Sera. And I will make sure you have the chance to be whoever you want to be."
Seraphina beamed, then nodded, "Okay, Papa!"
Rhyssand smiled. Papa. Yes. Papa. Then—Thunk. A cherry bounced off his head. He slowly turned, narrowing his eyes. Behind him, Callisto stood frozen mid-chew, one hand full of stolen blossoms, the other still holding a half-eaten cherry.
Rhyssand arched a brow. "Callisto Pendragon… did you just declare war on your father?"
The boy hesitated, then smirked. "Maybe!"
"— you cheeky beast—" Rhyssand muttered, advancing.
Callisto shrieked with laughter and took off running, but it was no use. In seconds, his father scooped him up, tossing him over his shoulder as the boy wriggled and kicked.
"Dad—stop!" he squealed through fits of laughter.
"Surrender then!" Rhyssand grinned, flipping him back down and launching a full-on tickle assault.
Callisto thrashed dramatically. "Never!" he cried, twisting out of his father's grasp and tackling him with all the force a four-year-old could muster.
They rolled onto the grass beneath the cherry blossoms, petals tumbling around them like laughter from the trees.
Before Rhyssand could catch his breath, Seraphina joined the fray, throwing herself onto him with surprising force for someone so small.
Rhyssand gasped. "Double treason?! Have you learned nothing from the first betrayal!"
Seraphina beamed. "You would not blow up our home, Daddy!"
She was right.
They collapsed into a pile of laughter beneath the cherry blossoms, the petals swirling like confetti around them. Rhyssand sat up, pulling both children close. His voice softened. "I will make you wager…" he said at last. "Promise me one thing. That you will always protect each other. You are family. You are siblings. Got it? Never turn your wings to each other; Family come first."
"Got it, Papa!" they chimed in unison. He wrapped his arms around them both. Kissing them both on the forehead, "And no matter what," he added softly, "That's all that matters." Looking back at the graves.
"Mom, this family is not perfect, but I think we're going to be okay. I will be sure they know you. Both of you."
"And what do we have here—?" A familiar voice interrupted.
"Mama!" the twins cried, squirming free.
Artizea stood at the edge of the grove, a smile dancing on her lips.
"Having fun?" she asked, arching a brow as both children barreled into her, nearly toppling her over with hugs.
Rhyssand walked to her, slower now, his gaze drinking her in like she was the only thing that mattered.
"Hi…" he said.
"Hi…" she echoed, brushing a petal from his shoulder.
Rhyssand smirked. "Shouldn't you be in the castle, Princess?"
She leaned closer, tilting her head. "Shouldn't you be in heaven, Angel?"
He touched his forehead to hers. "My heaven," he whispered, "Is right here."
The cherry blossoms swirled around them, a gentle wind rustling the trees. It was as if the grove itself acknowledged the presence of the next generation, the continuation of the legacy forged through love and sacrifice.
"Mother! May we go flying now?" Callisto called out, his golden curls bouncing.
"Pleaseee!" Seraphina added, both children beaming in unison.
Rhyssand and Artizea exchanged a knowing glance and smiled.
The family soared high above the open skies, the golden hues of sunset painting the clouds around them. Artizea flew in her magnificent dragon form, her massive wings casting a shadow over the land below as they beat rhythmically. Her scales shimmered in the sun, a sight both fearsome and awe-inspiring.
Rhyssand flew as Seraphina and Callisto danced in circles around their mother, their laughter echoing through the clouds.
"Careful." Artizea's voice resonated in their minds, warm but firm.
Rhyssand grinned mischievously, flying just above her wing. "They are in very safe hands, Tizea. See?"
Callisto giggled, clutching his father tightly as they spiraled through the air. "Look at me, Mama!"
Artizea let out a low, rumbling chuckle, her crimson eyes glowing. As they neared the horizon, the distant roar of the crowd at the arena reached their ears. The Rite of Challenge awaited.
Rhyssand slowed his flight, hovering just above Artizea's wing. "I shall see you there, my love," he called out, already knowing she had planned a grand entrance. With a knowing smirk, he let himself fall backward, spiraling with the kids. Callisto and Seraphina laughed gleefully in his arms as they plunged through the clouds. "Let us see how fast we can get there!" Rhyssand said, folding his wings close and diving like a comet, streaked through the sky,
Callisto's delighted laughter blends with the seraphim's whistle of the wind.
As they neared the arena, Rhyssand slowed his descent, his voice calm but playful. "Wish Daddy luck, Kiddos," he said,
"Good luck, Daddy!" they both chimed.
He kissed Seraphim's cheek and ruffledCallisto's hair, then with a flick of his fingers, a swirl of golden light enveloped his son, teleporting them both safely to his grandparents in the royal box as his black armor materialized around him in a flash of shadow and flame, his wings folding behind him as he landed gracefully in the center of the arena.
The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy electrifying as the Champion of the Rite made his entrance.
But the spectacle was far from over.
A sudden roar shook the heavens, a sound that silenced the crowd in awe. The sky darkened as Artizea descended, her dragon form cutting through the clouds like a meteor. Her wings spread wide, casting a brief shadow over the arena as her roar echoed off the walls. She spiraled downward with elegance and power, her landing shaking the ground beneath her. With a final beat of her wings, she folded them behind her, her glowing eyes locking onto Rhyssand's.
The crowd erupted again, their cheers deafening as the two stood facing each other—dragon queen and shadow-cloaked warrior. Rhyssand smirked, raising his sword in salute.
Artizea shifted seamlessly back into her human form, landing with a thunderous impact, transforming mid-step into her human form, spear in hand, with her characteristic confidence, her now grown-out hair tousled by the wind, her eyes locked on her husband.
"Who would have thought," Rhyssand said with a sly grin as they approached each other in the center, "That we'd be doing this after becoming parents?"
Artizea smirked, resting her spear on her shoulder. "We have yet to determine who is the strongest between us, Your Majesty. Don't hold back." Artizea teased, her eyes alight with challenge.
His smirk matched his as she unsheathed his spear. "It would not be a challenge otherwise, would it?" he replied, her voice low and teasing.
The arena held its breath as the Rite of Challenge began, and when the gong sounded, the battle began.
Artizea struck first, her spear slicing through the air in a precise arc. Rhyssand met her strike with his own, the clash of weapons sending a shockwave through the arena. They moved fluidly, each attack met with a counter, their mastery evident to all.
From the royal booth, Gilgamesh watched intently, his hand resting protectively on Callisto."
Arthuria folded her arms, her expression softening despite herself. "I take it he has grown on you now."
Gilgamesh scoffed, "He's alright."
Back in the arena, Artizea leaped, spinning her spear with precision before bringing it down toward Rhys. He dodged, countering with a burst of divine energy that she deflected with ease.
"Getting slow with age, Rhys?" she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.
He laughed, his wings flaring as he launched into a quick strike that forced her back a step. The crowd cheered wildly as the battle escalated. Artizea emerged again, her spear now glowing with an intense light as she wielded it with precision, lifting her just above the ground. Rhyssand mirrored her movements, his spear infused with celestial energy as he charged. They clashed mid-air, their blows sending waves of energy through the amphitheater. The clash of spears echoed across the amphitheater, the energy between Artizea and Rhyssand electric with veracity.
Gilgamesh tilted his head, his golden eyes alight with approval. "They are perfectly matched."
Eugene leaned against the railing, for once not in his books, a confident smirk playing on his lips. Beside him, Arthur crossed his arms, his expression equal parts annoyed and intrigued.
"I am telling you." Eugene whispered, eyes never leaving the arena, "He will do it. He can't resist."
Elaine scoffed. "He's too focused on winning."
Eugene arched a brow, the sparkle of mischief clear. "You underestimate him. He's playing the long game."
"What have I created?" Elaine whimpered.
Meanwhile, Artizea launched into another aerial strike, her dragon form lending her an edge as she propelled herself high above Rhyssand. She descended with her spear aglow, aiming for his side, but at the last moment, Rhyssand sidestepped. He moved faster than she anticipated, closing the distance and disarming her with a sweep of his wings and a deft spin. Before she could react, his hand shot out—not to strike, but to pull her toward him.
"Caught you," he murmured with a smirk, then he kissed her.
The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers, whistles, and laughter. Even from the royal booth, the collective shock was palpable. Callisto clapped his tiny hands excitedly, while Seraphina bounced in Arthuria's lap.
Elaine groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "Unbelievable."
Eugene leaned back in his seat, arms raised in triumph. "Pay up, little sister! I am the winner!!"
"Your stakes were rigged," she muttered, pulling out a gold coin and tossing it to him.
Arthuria, who had been watching with quiet amusement, gave a light shake of her head. "He has a flair for theatrics, that one."
Gilgamesh, meanwhile, looked less amused and more contemplative, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "A clever distraction," he said gruffly. " But she won't let it go unanswered."
True to his word, Artizea recovered swiftly, shoving Rhyssand back with enough force to make the crowd laugh anew.
"Ran out of aces, have you?" she quipped, her tone playful but sharp.
Rhyssand grinned, spinning his spear. "You have stolen all my moves over the ears…it is only fair."
She rolled her eyes but could not hide her smirk.
A gong signaled the end of the duel, and the crowd erupted into applause.
Rhyssand extended a hand to Artizea, a smile playing on his lips. " Still evenly matched for now, my love," he said.
Artizea grinned, taking his hand. " For now."
From the royal booth, Callisto clapped his little hands, his joy uncontainable."Grandpa! Will they fight again next year?"
Gilgamesh chuckled, scooping the boy into his arms and lifting him high.
"Time will tell, little dove. But one thing I do know—your parents are warriors. As you will be, one day."
He lowered Callisto gently, meeting his eyes with quiet pride.
"Never forget the legacy you come from… and what it means to wear the name, Pendragon."
Callisto puffed out his chest. "I will do my best, Grandpa!"
On the arena floor, Artizea and Rhyssand walked off the field together, and the cheers of the crowd echoed around them.
A true enemies-to-lovers story for the history books.