Chapter Text
The morning sun spilled across the stone corridors of the royal castle of Artwyne, catching in the banners of deep red and gold that fluttered in the warm breeze. Servants hurried through the courtyard, loading travel trunks and gift crates into polished carriages.
Phillip and Aurora exchanged a smile as they walked down the grand staircase together—Aurora’s hand tucked comfortably in Phillip’s arm. She wore a traveling gown of soft rose and cream, elegant yet practical, her hair braided neatly but still flowing like spun gold. Phillip came dressed in deep red and brown, his sword belted at his side more out of habit than necessity.
From inside the great hall boomed a voice that needed no introduction.
“Phillip! Aurora! Do make haste! Your dear father is far too old to stand here fretting about departure times!”
Aurora giggled softly as she descended the grand staircase with Phillip beside her.
“Your father is very excited,” she whispered.
Phillip leaned closer, eyes warm. “This is his quiet voice, my love.”
Aurora laughed—and the moment she reached the last step, King Hubert burst in like a marching parade, bald head gleaming, white beard bouncing, arms thrown wide.
“You’re not old, Father,” Phillip said teasingly. “You just like pretending you are, so you can rush everyone.”
Hubert let out a huff that was half indignation, half fondness. “Pretending? I’ll have you know my knees creak like a rusty drawbridge! And besides—this is an important visit! I haven’t seen my brother in years!”
Aurora smiled sweetly. “Good morning, Father.”
Hubert preened. “Good morning, my dear! Oh, it warms an old man’s heart to have a daughter-in-law who greets him so properly!”
Phillip muttered, “Old man, he says,” under his breath.
Hubert straightened his tunic. “I heard that!”
Phillip grinned. “Good.”
Aurora looked between them fondly, warmth blooming in her chest. She loved seeing Phillip this way—relaxed, playful, entirely himself.
“NOW THEN! Off to Charmant! To see my dear brother Leopold! The louder, less handsome twin!”
Phillip snorted. “Louder, perhaps.”
“Less handsome too!” Hubert declared. “Though he’ll deny it. Proud fellow—terrible at modesty.”
Aurora covered a laugh behind her hand. “Phillip told me you and King Leopold are… energetic.”
Phillip gave her a gentle look. “Rose, that was an understatement.”
Hubert threw his hands dramatically skyward. “Energetic?! Bah! We are VIGOROUS! LARGER THAN LIFE! FULL OF—”
“—very loud enthusiasm,” Phillip finished dryly.
Hubert pointed at him. “Exactly!”
As Hubert stepped outside to give more “helpful suggestions” to the stablehands, Aurora squeezed Phillip’s arm affectionately. “Tell me more about your uncle and cousin, dear. Truly.”
Phillip softened instantly. “Uncle Leopold is very much like Father—just somehow even louder.”
“Oh, that’s not possible,” Aurora murmured.
Phillip chuckled. “It is. And August—my cousin—he’s like the brother I never had. We used to race horses, fence, steal pastries, cause general mischief… but haven’t seen each other in years.”
Aurora smiled. “He sounds wonderful.”
“He is,” Phillip said warmly. Then he paused. Then blinked. Then froze.
Aurora tilted her head. “Phillip?”
“Oh no.”
“What is it?”
Phillip pressed a hand to his forehead. “I never told August I got married.”
Aurora gasped. “Phillip!”
He groaned. “He’s going to kill me.”
Aurora couldn’t help laughing. “Well… he will certainly be surprised.”
Phillip rubbed his temples. “Surprised is putting it lightly.”
Hubert bellowed from the doorway, “FIVE MINUTES UNTIL DEPARTURE!”
Phillip sighed. “Too late now.”
Aurora kissed his cheek. “Then we shall surprise him together, dear.”
Phillip smiled helplessly. “You always know what to say, Rose.”
“Phillip! Aurora! The horses are ready! And someone please tell the cook we cannot bring twenty-seven loaves of bread—Charmant has bakeries, for heaven’s sake!”
Phillip winced and laughed. “We’d better rescue the servants.”
Aurora giggled. “Let’s.”
They stepped out into the bright, cool morning together, hand in hand, ready to begin the journey to Charmant—and to reunite with the cousin who had shaped so much of Phillip’s childhood.
Morning light in Charmant carried a different flavor than in Artwyne—brighter, softer, with a golden sheen that made the pale stone of the palace glow like warm cream. The air smelled faintly of fresh bread, orange blossoms, and the polish used on the marble floors.
The palace bustled with preparations, and at the center of the chaos stood King Leopold—Hubert’s perfect mirror in shape, volume, and enthusiasm.
“August! Cinderella! Hurry, hurry, hurry! The carriages from Artwyne could arrive ANY MOMENT!” Leopold thundered, cape flaring behind him like a ship’s sail.
Cinderella—or Ella, as August affectionately called her—stepped into the hall with her usual serene grace. She wore a simple powder-blue gown trimmed in silver. Her golden hair was swept into a soft chignon, and she carried a thin portfolio of notes and hospitality arrangements.“Good morning, Father.”
Leopold brightened instantly. “My lovely daughter-in-law! Always polite! A jewel in this palace!”
August hurried after her, adjusting his cream-colored tunic. “Father, you’re scaring the servants again.”
“Nonsense!” Leopold roared. “They LOVE when I project my royal presence!”
A passing maid fainted. Cinderella sighed. August pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Anyway,” Leopold said briskly, “your uncle Hubert and cousin Phillip will be here soon! So straighten that cloak! Stand tall! Smile wider! WIDER—!”
“Father,” August whispered, “that is physically impossible.”
Leopold ignored him completely and marched off to shout further instructions at the gardeners.
August exhaled deeply. “He hasn’t changed at all.”
Cinderella smiled. “He loves you dearly, my love.”
“I know,” August admitted. “Loudly.”
She giggled softly.
They walked together toward the receiving hall, and August’s expression softened as memories surfaced.
“You know… Phillip and I practically grew up together. He’s one year older, but he never treated me like a younger cousin. He was my partner in every kind of mischief—climbing towers, racing through the halls, sneaking pastries before dinner. We were… inseparable.”
Cinderella leaned her head lightly on his shoulder. “You must be excited to see him again.”
“I am,” August said quietly. “More than I realized.”
Cinderella smiled. “And I’m excited to meet him.”
August nodded—then went still. Completely still.
Cinderella blinked. “August?”
He stared at the floor with dawning horror. “Ella.”
“Yes?”
“I never told Phillip I got married.”
Cinderella covered her mouth. “Oh my.”
August dragged both hands down his face. “He’s going to think I’ve been hiding you! He’s going to—oh no, oh no—”
Cinderella soothed him with a gentle stroke along his arm. “It will be alright, darling.”
“That’s easy for you to say!” August whispered frantically. “I’m going to have to explain that I forgot to mention the single most important event in my life!”
Cinderella giggled. “He may be shocked. But he will also be happy for you.”
August sighed dramatically. “I hope so. Otherwise this reunion might turn into a lecture.”
A trumpet blast sounded from the courtyard.
Leopold’s voice echoed through the castle like thunder. “TO THE GATES, EVERYONE! THEY APPROACH!”
Cinderella squeezed August’s hand. “Come, my love.”
He gave her a helpless grin. “Right behind you, Ella.”
Together, they walked toward the courtyard—toward the reunion, the surprises, and the delightful chaos waiting at the gates.