[Leif’s POV — Wedding Garden—At the Altar]

My fingers were still wrapped in Alvar’s—warm, steady, and grounding—when the priest stepped forward, robes shimmering in the sunlight like woven dawn.

"Today," he announced, voice echoing through the garden, "we witness a union blessed by sky and soil, by winter winds and summer suns. A bond formed not by blood, not by politics—"

His gaze flickered to us.

"—but by choice."

A soft murmur rippled through the guests.

My heart thudded.

Alvar’s thumb brushed the back of my hand. A tiny gesture. A silent comfort.

The priest lifted a crystal orb; it glowed faintly, reacting to the magic in the air... or maybe reacting to the chaos in my bloodstream.

"Grand Duke Alvar Regulfsson. Leif Thorenvald. Step forward."

We moved in unison. His cloak trailing like night itself. My veil catching the sunlight like morning frost.

The priest turned to Alvar first. "Grand Duke—please speak your vows."

***

[Alvar’s POV—The Vows]

Leif’s hand trembled ever so slightly in mine. So I tightened my grip—gentle, firm—anchoring him. Anchoring myself.

I inhaled deeply, meeting his eyes through the soft veil.

Then I spoke.

"Leif." His name alone filled my chest with warmth. "In my life, I have known war. Duty. Silence. Endless sleepless nights. I have known victory... and loneliness."

The guests exhaled quietly—some in sympathy, some in awe.

"But when you came into my world," I continued, voice steady, "everything changed."

Leif’s breath hitched behind the veil.

"You were chaos. Light. Foolish courage. Infuriating honesty. A warmth I didn’t believe I was allowed to feel." My throat tightened, but I did not waver. "You taught me... that I am not alone. That I don’t need to be."

His eyes widened, shining.

"I vow to protect you—against devils, fate, kings, and destiny itself. I vow to stand beside you—through storms, seasons, and whatever chaos you drag into my life. I vow to love you—quietly or loudly, fiercely or gently—however you need."

My voice softened.

"And lastly... I vow to walk with you. Because the moment you took one step toward me... I knew I wanted to follow you for the rest of my life."

A hush fell so deep it felt holy.

Leif’s hand trembled again—this time not from fear, but from emotion. The priest turned to him.

"Leif... your vows."

***

[Leif’s POV — My Turn to Speak (oh no)]

My throat felt like it was filled with hot chocolate and panic.

Everyone was staring. Alvar was staring. The veil suddenly felt three sizes too small. But then...Alvar squeezed my hand.

Just once.

And the world steadied.

I swallowed and began.

"Alvar..." His name felt heavy. And warm. And right. "I won’t pretend this path was easy when it comes to you. You were stubborn and bossy, but...I know I need you. "I don’t know if I’m strong. I don’t know if I’m brave. But I know this—I want to spend my life with you."

A ripple of laughter and awe moved through the crowd.

I exhaled shakily. "Because you... you gave me a place. A home. A reason to stay."

His eyes softened.

"I know I’m reckless. I know I panic. I know I make your knights want to resign daily." A few knights coughed suspiciously. "But... you never once pushed me away. You never once looked at me like I was wrong for being myself."

My chest tightened.

"You looked at me like—like I mattered." Alvar’s fingers curled into mine as if he were holding himself together.

"So I promise... I promise to stand by your side—even when you glare at your people who come near me like they are enemies. I promise to support you—even when I don’t understand your cold-duke logic. And I promise to love you—even when the world calls us impossible."

"And if the day comes when fate separates us..." my voice dropped to barely a whisper — the vow that came from the deepest place of fear and love within me, "...I will wait for you. In every world."

Alvar’s eyes widened—and the slightest shine formed.

I leaned forward just enough for only him to hear.

"And if you push me away again..." I whispered with a small, tearful smile, "...I will still come back. And make you say sorry properly."

A breath of laughter broke from him—soft and wounded and full.

I finished the vow — the truest part.

"Alvar... You are my first love. My first home. And my first reason to fight back." I lifted my chin, heart pounding, voice steady. "I vow... to walk with you. Because you reached out your hand to me whenever I needed it. And today... I am marrying the only man my heart has ever wanted."

Alvar’s breath caught.

The priest smiled.

Silence.

Not stillness —but stunned, breath-held, heart-cracked silence.

Then the High Priest spoke—"By your vows, your souls are bound."

Light rippled from the altar—like gentle magic sparkling outward. But I didn’t take my eyes off Alvar. And he didn’t take his eyes off me.

It felt like time stopped —like the moment itself was holding its breath.

The priest’s voice rose again—formal, ancient, echoing across the garden.

"Grand Duke Alvar Regulfsson..." he said with ceremonial weight, "...do you take Leif Thorenvald as your spouse —to hold and to cherish, to protect and to trust, to stand beside in joy and in sorrow,in this life and in all lives beyond, for as long as your souls remember one another?"

The wind fell silent.

The lilies stopped swaying.

Alvar didn’t look at the priest. He looked only at me. And then—slowly—he lifted my hand to his lips.

His answer wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t dramatic. Wasn’t loud. It was spoken in a voice made of steel and devotion.

"I do."

The priest smiled gently—ready to continue, but Alvar didn’t let go of my hand.

Instead, he kept speaking—not for the audience, not for tradition—but for me.

"I take you, Leif Thorenvald," he murmured, loud enough for the world to hear, "not because duty demands it...but because my heart cannot live without you."

My breath faltered.

The priest took a gentle step forward. His gaze turned to me—warm, solemn, ceremonial.

"Leif Thorenvald," he called, his voice ringing across the garden. "Do you accept Alvar Regulfsson as your husband —to stand beside in grief and in joy, to trust in weakness and in strength, to choose him not only today, but on every day that follows—in this life and in all the lives beyond?"

My lips parted —but the answer didn’t come from my voice first.

It came from my heart.

"Yes."

Soft at first—then stronger.

"Yes," I repeated—firmer, absolute, trembling with certainty. "I accept Alvar Regulfsson as my husband."

The priest nodded—satisfied—and reached for the wedding rings.

Two Trivium core stone rings—one carved with a dragon motif, the other with a phoenix design—symbols of rebirth and eternity.

Alvar took the first ring.

His fingers trembled—but when he slid the cool metal onto my finger, his touch was gentle, almost reverent.

"With this ring," he whispered, "I promise to be yours."

Then the priest signaled me. My hand shook, but I lifted the second ring—sliding it onto his finger with steady care.

"With this ring," I whispered back, "I promise to stay yours."

The priest smiled, lifting his hands to the sky.

"By vow, by bond, and by witness —Let heart, body, and soul be united."

A soft ripple of light flowed outward—dust-like, gentle, like starlight scattered by the wind.

The air stilled. The audience held their breath. Then—the words everyone waited for:

"Grand duke Alvar and Ruler of Frojnholm, Lord Leif—you are now officially wed..." the High Priest declared, voice filled with warmth. "...you may kiss your spouse."

The ceremony paused—suspended—like time itself wanted to watch.

Alvar didn’t step forward immediately. He moved slowly—deliberately—fingers lifting my chin, eyes never leaving mine.

He didn’t rush.

He didn’t snatch.

He asked—silently—with his gaze:

May I?

My breath trembled—and I nodded. He leaned in —my heart pounding, the garden melting away, everything fading except him.

And right before our lips met, he whispered so only I could hear, "Finally, we are one."

Then he kissed me.

Not hurried. Not greedy. Not shy.

A kiss full of promise—of apology—of devotion—of every vow sealed between us.

The audience erupted—cheers, claps, whistles—Alina squealing, Zephyy shrieking from excitement, dwarves pounding the floor, elves whistling, and humans cheering loud enough to shake the lanterns.

But I didn’t hear any of it.

Not the cheers. Not the whistles. Not the music. Not the explosion of petals raining from the sky.

Because right then —in that single kiss — I was whole.

I was home.

And I was his.

We finally got married.

After all the chaos, the arguments, the heartbreak, the stupid misunderstandings, the distance, the longing, the separation...

We became one.

Husband and husband.

Soul to soul.

Perfect —for one fragile heartbeat in time.

. . .

. . .

And that was the exact second fate decided to destroy everything.

The day we sealed each other with love and blessings...was the day destiny chose to tear everything apart.