The day of the Royal Wedding had arrived, and the Capital was bursting with absolute, uncontainable celebration.
Inside the luxurious bridal chambers, seventeen-year-old Princess Seris sat in front of a massive, gilded vanity mirror. She was wearing a breathtaking, pure white and gold gown that matched the regal aesthetics of the Kaelen Empire, intricately interwoven with the deep, defiant crimson silks of the Jeal Kingdom.
Standing behind her, gently adjusting her veil and pinning her hair with a steady, loving hand, was Lyra.
"Lyra, please," Seris said softly, watching the younger girl's reflection in the mirror with genuine concern. "You shouldn't take so much exhausting trouble to dress me yourself. You are pregnant with twins. You need to sit down and rest."
Lyra smiled brightly, pinning a shimmering diamond crest into Seris's hair. "Why should I rest? Today is an incredibly important day for my Big Sister! I want you to look absolutely perfect when Zion finally sees you."
Seris felt a warm, unexpected tear prick her eye. She was miles away from her ruined home, yet she felt more loved in this one quiet room than she ever had in the cold halls of the Jeal Kingdom.
"There! All done," Lyra beamed, clapping her hands together softly. "You look beautiful, Seris. I am going to go put on my own ceremonial dress. Wait right here, I will be right back to escort you to the hall!"
As Lyra happily exited the chamber, closing the heavy oak doors behind her, the room fell into a quiet, profound peace.
But the peace didn't last long.
Click.
The side door connecting to the guest corridors slowly, sinisterly swung open. Elena Valerius, dressed in high-class, venomous Southern silks, walked into the room. Because the Academy was on holiday, Elena had returned to the Capital with her father to attend the wedding, ostensibly as a guest of honor.
"My, my. What a beautiful, desperate dress," Elena sneered, crossing her arms as she looked Seris up and down with undisguised contempt. "It is almost pretty enough to make you forget you are just a political refugee playing dress-up."
Seris stood up calmly, turning to face the Southern noble with icy grace. "Can I help you, Lady Elena?"
"I am just here to offer some friendly, sisterly advice," Elena smirked, walking a slow, predatory circle around the Princess of Jeal. "Princess Lyra acts so sweet, doesn't she? Brushing your hair, calling you sister. But do not be a fool, Seris. She is the mother of the First Heirs. Zion will always love her more. You will always be second. You are going to spend the rest of your pathetic life living in her shadow, utterly forgotten."
The poison of jealousy is not found in the actions of others; it is found in the lie that another person's happiness somehow diminishes your own.
Elena was trying to plant the seeds of deep, internal insecurity, exactly as her brother Julian had suggested.
But Seris just stared at her, her expression completely, chillingly blank.
Flashback One Night Before
Zion had been sitting across from Seris in the quiet, moonlight-drenched Palace gardens, the silver light reflecting off the central fountains.
"Seris, you need to be incredibly careful tomorrow," Zion had warned her, his dual-layered voice low and serious. "The nobles of the South, especially Elena Valerius, are venomous. They are going to corner you. They will try to plant seeds of jealousy in your mind to make you turn against Lyra."
Seris had smiled softly, looking at the glowing moon.
"You do not need to worry about that, Zion," Seris replied, her voice filled with absolute, unshakeable certainty. "Even if you hadn't warned me... it would be impossible. Lyra gave me a home and protected my kingdom's pride when I had nothing. I could never, ever be jealous of my own little sister."
Elena waited for the words to sink in, expecting Seris to look doubtful, insecure, or angry.
Instead, the ambient air in the room suddenly turned violently, suffocatingly hot.
Seris raised her slender hand. As the strongest mage in the Jeal Kingdom, she possessed an incredibly rare dual-affinity for Fire and Wind magic.
A searing, hyper-compressed cyclone of blazing, golden fire erupted around Seris's body. The wind howled through the bridal chamber, knocking Elena backward. The scorching heat licked at Elena's expensive silk dress, instantly singeing the delicate edges.
"Do you think I am a fool, Elena Valerius?" Seris commanded, her voice echoing with the terrifying, natural authority of a warrior Queen. The literal fire reflected in her fierce, unyielding eyes. "I see right through your pathetic poison. Speak ill of my little sister again, and I will burn the tongue out of your mouth."
Elena scrambled backward on the floor, absolute, primal terror washing over her face as the flames licked the expensive carpet near her hands. She scrambled to her feet, stumbling as she ran toward the door.
"You will regret this!" Elena shrieked, slamming the heavy door behind her as she fled in disgrace.
The flames instantly vanished, leaving the room perfectly pristine. Seris let out a calm, rhythmic breath just as the main doors opened.
Lyra walked back in, wearing a stunning silver gown, holding a bouquet of flowers. "I'm back! Are you ready, Big Sister?"
Seris smiled, completely ignoring what had just happened. "Yes. I am ready."
The wedding was magnificent.
Under the massive, crystal chandeliers of the Imperial Grand Hall, Emperor Aldric presided over the ceremony. Loyal Dukes, knights, and nobles watched in breathless awe as the two Princesses walked down the aisle together.
Zion stood at the altar, his breath catching as Seris walked up the steps. She looked like a warrior goddess wrapped in white silk.
They spoke their vows, promising to protect each other and the people of their kingdoms. At the Emperor's command, Zion leaned in and gently kissed her. The entire hall erupted in deafening cheers, celebrating the union that had officially saved the Jeal Kingdom.
They moved to the high table, taking their seats on three magnificent thrones. Zion sat in the middle, with Lyra on his right and Seris on his left.
"A toast to the newlyweds!" a nobleman cheered, and a servant immediately approached their table carrying a silver tray with three goblets of fine wine.
Zion's Three Aditya instincts flared instantly. Given the trauma of the Cathedral and the Crimson Siren potion, he absolutely refused to take any chances.
Before the servant even set the tray down, Zion grabbed the two goblets meant for Lyra and himself and handed them back.
"We don't drink," Zion said coldly, his crimson eyes daring anyone in the room to question him.
Lyra giggled, perfectly happy to avoid alcohol for the twins' sake. Seris, however, casually picked up a crystal glass filled with sweet fruit juice from the table and took a sip, completely unfazed by his overwhelming paranoia.
Suddenly, a brilliant, blinding silver light filled the center of the Grand Hall.
The nobles gasped and fell to their knees. Grand Duke Yash, the Primordial God of Time and Space, materialized in the room, wearing his majestic, glowing divine robes.
"I wouldn't miss a wedding!" Yash laughed, his voice resonating with pure, celestial harmony. He walked up to the high table, raising his hands. He formally blessed both Queens and Zion, showering the room in a warm, peaceful light that made everyone feel incredibly, unnaturally safe.
But as soon as the public blessing was over, Yash caught Emperor Aldric's eye.
Aldric and Yash stood alone in the quiet, heavily warded study.
"Well?" Emperor Aldric demanded, crossing his arms. "I summoned you to check the anomaly. Does the unborn child carry divine power?"
Grand Duke Yash looked his brother in the eye. He remembered the strict command of the Original God: Lie to him.
"No, Aldric," Yash lied smoothly, not a single trace of hesitation in his voice. "It is not divine power. It is a phenomenon known as 'Mana Resonance.' The children possess a Triple-Attribute core that is so phenomenally rare and dense, it occasionally mimics a celestial frequency by accident. The doctors simply misread the energy signature."
Aldric stared at Yash for a long moment. Slowly, the tension left the Emperor's broad shoulders. He let out a massive, heavy sigh of relief.
"Thank the heavens," Aldric whispered, rubbing his scarred face. "If the children truly had divine power, the Holy Church and the Southern Dukes would never stop hunting them. Thank you, Yash."
Later that night, the celebrations finally died down.
Zion walked into the master bridal chamber. Seris was sitting on the edge of the massive bed, wearing a simple silk nightgown. She looked completely exhausted. In a single week, she had lost her father, lost her kingdom, ridden through a storm, and married a stranger.
Zion walked over and sat down beside her. He didn't push her. He didn't demand anything.
"You're tired," Zion said softly, offering a warm, understanding smile.
Seris looked at him, her fierce eyes softening with immense gratitude. "I am... incredibly tired, Zion."
"Then sleep," he replied.
Zion reached out and gently took her hand in his, interlocking their fingers. They lay back against the pillows, simply holding hands as the sheer exhaustion of the past few days finally caught up to them. Within minutes, the new Second Crown Princess of the Empire was fast asleep, feeling completely, profoundly safe for the first time since her father's death.
The morning sun streamed through the windows.
BANG!
The bedroom doors flew wide open. Lyra marched into the room, holding a piece of parchment and a quill, looking incredibly, hilariously serious.
"Alright, wake up you two!" Lyra announced cheerfully. "We have highly important Imperial business to discuss!"
Zion groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Lyra, what are you doing?"
Seris sat up, rubbing her temples but smiling at Lyra's infectious energy. "What is it, Little Sis?"
"The Sleeping Schedule!" Lyra declared, holding up the parchment proudly. "Since we are sharing a husband, we need absolute order and fairness. So, I have made the final decision. Three days Zion sleeps in my chambers, and three days Zion sleeps in your chambers!"
Seris blinked, then burst into a warm, genuine laugh. "That sounds perfectly fair to me, Lyra."
"Wait, hold on," Zion protested, sitting up. "Don't I get a say in this?! What about the seventh day of the week?!"
Lyra and Seris looked at each other, then looked back at Zion with perfectly synchronized, deadpan stares.
"No," they said in unison.
Zion fell back onto the pillows, absolutely defeated by the two most powerful women in the Empire.
While the young royals bickered playfully in the chambers, a dark cloud was forming in Emperor Aldric's study.
An elite Knight bearing the crimson crest of the Southern Territory knelt before the Emperor's desk.
"Speak, messenger," Aldric commanded coldly.
"Your Majesty," the Knight bowed his head. "I bring a formal, urgent request from Duke Alistair Valerius. As Princess Lyra is now in her second month of pregnancy, it is ancient Southern tradition for a daughter to return to her family estate for specialized, intensive maternal care."
The Knight held out a sealed, ominous scroll.
"Duke Valerius respectfully requests that Princess Lyra step away from the Capital and reside in the Southern Territory for the next few months of her pregnancy."