Serena's Blessing

The scent of lavender and old parchment always clung to Serena’s chambers, a comforting aroma that spoke of quiet mornings and endless cups of chamomile tea. It was here, amidst the soft glow of a single oil lamp, that I found myself seeking refuge, my heart still humming with the extraordinary joy that had settled within me over the past few weeks. King Theron and I, against all odds, against the very fabric of the story I was supposed to inhabit, had found something real. Something profound.

Serena, her silver hair neatly pinned back, her hands gnarled from years of service but still surprisingly nimble, looked up from her mending. A gentle smile bloomed on her face, a smile that had always held a special warmth for me, even when I was merely the “Grand Duke” of this world, a role I’d so eagerly shed.

“Elias,” she greeted softly, her voice like the rustle of silk. “You look… radiant. Has the King finally managed to charm the stubborn Grand Duke out of his perpetual gloom?”