Chapter One Hundred and Twelve: Festival Morning

Chapter One Hundred and Twelve: Festival Morning
Morning came, and it's the festival day.
A pale haze clung to the palace windows as if even the sun was reluctant to stir, brushing only the edges of the world with light. The air was cool, gentle with a hush that only mornings before sacred things knew how to hold. The Festival of the Double Moons would not begin until nightfall, but the palace had already started to feel different, a reverent rhythm settling into the walls and floors, into the scent of warmed milk and herbs steeping in a distant kitchen.

Kaelia blinked awake slowly, her lashes heavy with sleep. The bed was warm beneath her, but empty beside her. Alarion had already risen, likely called early by court duties, the sort that wore heavy sashes and grimmer expressions. Kaelia didn’t mind. Alarion’s absence left behind something sweet: the memory of being kissed on the forehead, of being touched like you're precious, and she knows that’s what she is to Alaric.

She's still yawning and stretching when she heard a knock coming from the front door of the chamber. She slowly stood up to go answer the door but before she could take any step towards the door, someone walked in, holding a fancy box, looking like every other messenger in the palace.

The messenger bowed to Kaelia, walked in, and dropped the box near the foot of the bed. The box was wrapped in velvet the color of cool cream. A single ribbon ran around it, threaded through with the same shade of gold that danced on Alarion’s ceremonial cuffs. Kaelia bent down slowly, one hand on her belly, the other reaching toward the box.

Just as her fingertips grazed the ribbon, the door cracked open.

“You’re already awake?” Aaron stepped in barefoot, his shirt halfway buttoned, sleep still fogging his eyes. He stopped short when he saw the box. “Oho. Seems your Alpha sent you a gift. You know, it's a good day today.”

Kaelia tilted her head toward it but said nothing, already untying the ribbon with the quiet care of someone unwrapping more than just fabric, as right now she's convinced that Alarion sent her a gift, I mean no one would send the Beta servant a gift but Prince Alarion would send his Omega mate a gift.

When she lifted the lid, even Aaron stopped breathing for a moment.

Inside lay a robe so pristine it glowed, white as fresh snow beneath the stars. It shimmered faintly, not like glitter or shine, but like something alive, like it will hold light even in the dark. Gold embroidery traced across the fabric in ancient curves, looping like vines around the collar, cuffs, and hem. And it wasn’t just gold, it looked like magic. Moonlight. It's beautiful.

Aaron let out a low whistle. “If I didn’t love you, I’d hate you,” he murmured, reaching out to touch the robe like it was a relic. “This looks like it was woven by angels.”

Kaelia smiled. “He definitely chose this himself,” she said, almost to herself.

Aaron nodded, his smile staying, but not reaching his eyes. “Of course he did.”

Then, softer, “Go shower. Let’s get you dressed, divine one.”

Kaelia took a hurried shower. Like a really quick one.

Kaelia allowed herself to be led to the armchair near the window. Aaron moved like he had done this a hundred times, not just helped someone dress, but helped Kaelia, and he had, in a way. He'd helped Kaelia get dressed a good amount of times, he'd even helped her bathe before, and there’s never been hesitation when it comes to Aaron doing anything with Kaelia, for Kael. Anything at all. A few things did change though, he now tries to do those things with less emotions flooding his heart. But some things hadn’t changed. Aaron’s fingers still trembled slightly when they grazed Kaelia’s skin. He still looked away when pulling garments over Kaelia’s head, even now, even with Kaelia swollen and round with another’s child.

First came the inner layers, a soft silken tunic, pale like cream, with supportive weaves pressed into the fabric. Kaelia let her arms lift, let the folds fall around her, and for a moment the curve of her stomach disappeared into careful lines and seams.

Aaron fastened a hidden clasp at Kaelia’s side, smoothing down the fabric with both hands. “This was tailored to hide the baby bump,” he said without looking up. “But only just. It’s still you.”

“Good,” Kaelia whispered. “I don’t want to disappear.”

Aaron paused, and for a second the room went too quiet.

Then he moved again, almost tenderly, drawing the white robe out of its velvet nest and draping it around Kaelia’s shoulders. It flowed like water, cool to the touch. The embroidery caught the pale morning light and shimmered, not brightly, but with meaning. As if Alarion had sewn every thread with a picture in his head; a picture of how it’d look on Kaelia.

Aaron’s fingers brushed Kaelia’s collarbone as he adjusted the fall of the fabric. Then his hand lingered, just briefly, on Kaelia’s nape, before falling away. He stepped back.

Kaelia reached for the small comb on the dressing table, but Aaron took it gently from her hand.

“Let me,” he said.

He combed slowly, parting Kaelia’s hair to one side and smoothing the strands behind one ear. Then, from his pocket, he pulled a simple gold ear chain, barely a whisper of a thing, and clipped it on with a featherlight touch.

“You look like someone the gods would fight over,” he murmured.

Kaelia’s gaze softened. “Only one fights for me now.”

Aaron’s smile cracked, but it stayed. “Lucky Alpha.”

They didn’t speak again for a moment. The hush in the room felt thicker than before. Not uncomfortable. Just… honest.

Kaelia touched Aaron’s wrist, light as breath. “I’m ready. Let's go see my mom and grandma.”

Aaron nodded. “Let’s take the long way.”

…They did.

The palace was just waking, its vast halls stretching like a creature stirring from slumber. Servants moved quietly, candles flickered to life, trays passed in silence. But none of that mattered. Not as Kaelia walked, one hand on her robe, the other loosely looped around Aaron’s arm. And Aaron walked beside her like he was escorting someone holy. Not because of the garment. But because it was Kaelia.

They arrived at grandma’s chamber just as the sun began to touch the blossoms hanging heavy from the old tree that arched above the stones. A few petals had already fallen, softening the ground with pink and ivory. There, beneath its bowing limbs, sat Elara and Grandma.

Grandma looked up first.

And smiled. A slow, deep, knowing smile that reached the fine lines around her eyes. “There you are, child,” she said, her voice warm like worn wool. “Come. Sit. The porridge is just right.”

Steam coiled from the clay pot beside her, scented with some roots and wild grain. Elara stirred it slowly with a wooden spoon, her movements precise. Clockwise. Three turns. Then she offered the spoon to Grandma, who held it in both hands and whispered something softly, an old tongue that didn’t need translation.

The air shimmered.

And Kaelia felt, deep in her chest, that something sacred had begun.