A month had passed.
And though the land still bled, it also began to breathe again.
The sanctuary rose from its ashes, stone by stone, sanctified by rain and devotion. The countryside of Veracchia, battered and burnt, stitched its wounds slowly. Some towns gathered in awe to pray to the Lion and Storm. Others spat at the earth when their names were mentioned, muttering of cursed beasts and godless rule.
"Too powerful," they whispered behind doors.
"They saved us," others argued. "The Church would've burned us all."
"What's the difference? Gods and monsters look the same in the end."
The Matteo name was now legend. Half-myth. Half-miracle. Neither Niegal nor Elena asked for crowns, but rumors spread like vines across the continent: Coronate the mages. Give us a King and Queen of our own. Of the people, for the people. Of storm and flame.
But behind those rising expectations was a family just trying to heal.
Elena, still marked by the cursed wound that cleaved her open, moved with care. The Behike's did their best, ointments, chants, mana wards, but if she overexerted herself with magic, the incision flared like white-hot lightning. There were days she couldn't rise without gasping. Nights she curled with the baby in her arms, praying not to wake Niegal with her tears.
Niegal had healed faster, but not fully. His body was strong again, Marohu no longer a cane but a proper weapon once more. Still, he woke at night in a cold sweat, flashes of Elena's blood, her chains, her stillborn scream haunting him like ghosts. He said nothing when the Lion whispered of vengeance or regret. He simply held his wife tighter and focused on the rhythm of her breath against his chest.
Most nights, that was enough.
One evening, the children had fallen asleep without protest, Phineus warm and milk-heavy, Esperanza curled in a storm-born dream. The house was quiet except for the crackle of the hearth.
Niegal stood for a long moment near the window, arms crossed, gaze distant.
Outside, he saw them: Aurora and Alejandro walking beneath the stars, his sister laughing quietly at something the other said. A hand touched her belly- they had recently discovered they were with child. He knew they wanted to wait to share, so he let them bask in the glow.
The Lion stirred in his bones, its golden eyes gleaming inside him.
A spark.
A new life.
Niegal said nothing. Just breathed, smiled faintly, and stepped away from the window.
Let them have their peace, he thought. Their joy.
There would be enough pain in the days to come.
He took Elena's hand, kissed the palm reverently, and led her in front of the firelight.
Elena followed without question, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her head tilted, curls falling over her eyes, skin golden in the glow. The serpent purred in her veins. She smiled, dreamy and content.
Their kiss was slow, deep. A communion. Their foreheads touched.
Then Niegal grinned.
"You know I'd do anything for you and our family, right?"
She laughed. Bright and bell-like, as if it rang through lifetimes.
"Of course, mi amor. But why do you say so?"
That familiar gleam lit his eye, playful, unyielding, the glint of the man she first fell in love with and the god who would tear heaven apart for her.
"Marry me. Again. Please?"
She blinked. Her brow knit slightly.
"Mi Léon… we've been married for three years. Why now? Why-"
His finger found her chin. He pulled her close, kissed her hard. The kind of kiss that left her breathless. When they parted, his voice was low, reverent.
"Because last time it was private. Rushed. Interrupted. This time, I want the whole damn world to see. To know that we choose each other- not because the gods demand it, but because we do. Because I want to stand beside you, crown or no crown, in this life and the next. Because you look so damn beautiful in white, and you deserve a moment that's ours."
Her breath caught. Then her smile widened, tears misting her eyes.
"All right," she whispered, pulling him down into another kiss. "Let's do this. I'd be honored to marry you again, mi tesoro. In this lifetime… and the next."
Niegal let out a whoop of joy, spinning her gently in his arms. She giggled like she hadn't in ages, clutching his shoulders, ignoring the tug of pain in her abdomen.
The hearth crackled behind them.
The Lion purred deep within his ribs.
The serpent, long-sated, coiled with contentment under her skin.
They tumbled into their room like youth reborn.
That night, they were not gods.
They were lovers rediscovering the shape of each other.
Elena guided his hand under her skirts with a wicked grin, pulling him into her warmth. Niegal hesitated, only for a moment.
"Your wound-"
"You want to renew our vows?" she whispered, teeth grazing his jaw. "Then claim what's yours, mi marido. Show me what forever feels like."
That was all he needed.
Their lovemaking was slow. Reverent. Careful, but not timid. The heat between them cracked like embers as they rediscovered each sacred mark and scar. They kissed as if it had been years since they last had, and each time their lips met, it felt new.
When they climaxed, thunder cracked far off in the hills. Somewhere, rain began to fall.
And they clung to each other in the aftershocks, sweat and tears mingling.
"I love you," she whispered into the hollow of his throat.
"I'm yours," he replied, his mouth at her temple. "All yours. Forever."
The gods, watching, whispered the same.