Years passed.
The announcement of their engagement had long turned into history, and the rumors that once surrounded their bond had faded into truth. The Sitri–Phenex alliance was no longer spoken of as politics but as inevitability, because Riser and Sona had long since made it clear: they weren't together for strategy, but because flame and tide had found each other.
Their wedding had been a grand spectacle. Nobles from across the Underworld gathered, dazzled not just by the Phenex fire and Sitri grace, but by the couple at the center of it all. Sona, regal yet radiant, wore her crown not of arrogance but of quiet strength. Riser, proud and bold, never once let go of her hand. He whispered promises even at the altar, teasing her into blushing beneath the gaze of the entire world, then kissed her like she was the only person alive.
That night, when the celebrations quieted and the doors shut, they found themselves alone.
No more spectators, no more teasing sisters, no more politics. Just Sona and Riser.
She was nervous — though she hid it behind her usual poise — and he teased her gently about how "cute" she was even as a bride. But when he kissed her, slow and deep, when he touched her with a tenderness that burned hotter than his flames, her mask cracked into soft sighs and flushed cheeks.
Their first night together was not rushed; it was discovery. His hands traced reverence more than possession, hers clung not out of duty but desire. Between heated kisses and whispered teases, Riser promised again: "I only love you. I only want you."
And when they finally joined as man and wife, it was not just passion but the sealing of a bond they had built through fire and patience.
Months later, Sona stood in her study, one hand pressed lightly to her stomach, her face betraying both disbelief and dawning wonder. She had always planned, always calculated, but this — this she had not scheduled.
When she told him, her voice trembled: "Riser… I'm pregnant."
For a rare moment, Riser was silent. Then his golden eyes widened with joy so raw it nearly undid her. He laughed — a full, heartfelt laugh — before pulling her into his arms and spinning her once. "A child! Our child, Sona! Flame and tide together — this is the greatest gift you could give me." His voice cracked with emotion he usually hid beneath bravado. He kissed her again and again, thanking her, thanking fate, thanking everything that led them here.
The day of the birth was chaos — Phenex flames and Sitri healers working in harmony — but Riser never left her side. He held her hand through every cry, whispered encouragement even as she cursed his recklessness for this too, and when at last the cries of a newborn filled the chamber, he nearly collapsed with relief.
A baby girl, with soft dark hair and eyes that glimmered like deep water warmed by flame.
Riser cradled her gently, his hands — hands that had wielded destruction and fire — trembling as he held something infinitely more fragile. He pressed his forehead to Sona's, voice breaking. "She's perfect. Just like you. Thank you, Sona… thank you for giving me this family."
Sona, exhausted but glowing, leaned into him, whispering back: "We did this together. Flame and tide… balance."
Years rolled forward, and the Sitri–Phenex estate echoed not just with political meetings or training grounds, but with the laughter of their daughter running through the halls, with Riser chasing her in mock flames, and with Sona smiling in quiet contentment.
The world might still see them as nobles, as leaders, as symbols of alliance — but in the end, they were something far simpler and far greater.
Husband and wife.Father and mother.Flame and tide, together forever.
And as the sun set one evening over their garden, Riser wrapped his arms around Sona's waist, kissed her cheek as she scolded him softly for distracting her, and whispered the words he never stopped saying since the very beginning:
"I love you, Sona. Always."
And Sona, at last unable to hide or deflect, leaned back into him, her hand covering his."…I love you too, Riser."
Together, they watched their daughter chase fireflies in the garden — the living proof of flame and tide, their eternal legacy.
The End.