A Table Beneath the Sun

Sasha's lips curved into a small, trembling smile. "Then… thank you, Mother-in-law. Father-in-law."

Anna's eyes glimmered, pride and tenderness blending in her gaze. Ben's quiet laugh rolled through the courtyard, low and rich with warmth.

Victor stood still, silent, watching the small moment unfold before him. The fountain behind them caught the golden afternoon light, scattering it in rippling fragments across marble and flowers. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and sweet bread, the atmosphere gentle and alive.

It was the kind of peace that didn't feel ordinary—it breathed.

And then, from the side, a small, playful voice broke through the air.

"So, Lady Sasha," Ania said, her tone half curious, half teasing. She stepped closer, her small hands folded behind her back. "You just called my mother and father Mother-in-law and Father-in-law, right?"

Sasha turned toward her, still smiling. "Yes, I did."

"Then," Ania said with exaggerated seriousness, "you should call me by name too. Not Lady Ania or Princess Ania. Just Ania."

The formality in her little speech made everyone smile.

Sasha laughed softly, lowering herself slightly to meet Ania's eyes. "Alright then… Ania."

Ania grinned wide, satisfied. "Good!"

The others chuckled quietly—Anna covering her mouth, Ben shaking his head in amusement. Even Victor's expression softened further. The faintest smile tugged at his lips, one of those rare, unguarded ones that spoke of quiet contentment.

He watched them—his family, his world—and for a fleeting second, he couldn't quite understand what it was he felt. Warmth? Gratitude? Peace? Maybe all of them at once. It was something deeper than joy, a silent fullness that ached softly in his chest.

And then, without a sound, something shimmered within him.

A gentle surge of energy stirred the air beside him. From within his own shadow, a soft glow spiraled upward, delicate as mist. And there she was—Violet.

She manifested quietly, her silver hair glinting in the sunlight, the twin black horns on her head catching faint glimmers of gold. She didn't speak at first. She only stood beside him, her gaze sweeping over the courtyard—the family gathered, the laughter echoing under open sky.

Victor felt her presence through the bond they shared—warm, intimate, grounding. He didn't turn to look; he didn't need to.

"They look happy," Violet's voice whispered gently in his mind.

"They are," Victor answered, his inner tone soft, reverent. "For once… everything feels complete."

Violet smiled, faintly visible from where she stood. "And one day, this scene won't be just a vision, my love. It will be real—for all of us."

"I know."

For now, that was enough. The two of them stood in the courtyard—one visible, one half ethereal—watching the family they cherished.

Then, just as the laughter settled, a new voice came. Low, respectful, carefully measured.

"My King. My Queen."

All heads turned.

A maid stood at the edge of the courtyard—Azenaid, her uniform spotless, her posture perfect. Her head was slightly bowed, hands clasped neatly in front of her.

"My apologies for intruding upon your moment," she said, her voice carrying gently through the air. "But I wished to inform you that the food has been fully arranged upon the table. If you delay much longer, it will lose its warmth—and with it, its taste."

Her tone held a subtle smile beneath its professionalism, a faint teasing note that drew quiet laughter from Anna.

"Ah, you're right," Anna replied, turning back to the family. "We shouldn't let the kitchen's effort go to waste." She looked at each of them, her expression gentle. "Come, let's eat before it all grows cold."

Ben rose first, stretching slightly before offering Anna his arm. "You always know how to make a meal sound like an invitation to paradise," he murmured, earning a soft laugh from her.

Ania rushed ahead, tugging Sasha along by the hand. "Come on! You have to sit next to me this time."

Sasha smiled, letting the girl pull her toward the table near the fountain. The sunlight bathed everything in soft gold—the marble tiles, the flowerbeds, the silver utensils arranged in perfect symmetry. The fountain murmured quietly beside them, a melody of water and wind.

Victor followed last, his steps calm and unhurried. Violet's form lingered behind him, fading slowly into his shadow again as he moved.

They gathered around the long table, where a snow-white cloth rippled in the warm afternoon breeze. Crystal plates caught the light like mirrors; silver goblets glowed faintly under the sun.

The maids moved with practiced grace—silent, coordinated, each step in rhythm. One by one, they adjusted the settings: aligning cutlery, straightening napkins, replacing glasses with a quiet clink.

The scent of roasted herbs, buttered bread, and ripe fruits filled the air.

Anna and Ben took their seats at the center—king and queen, yet here they looked more like a couple enjoying a family meal under open sky than royalty on display.

Ania sat on the left, Sasha beside her. Victor took the seat opposite, his eyes occasionally glancing toward Sasha—unintentionally, perhaps, though he didn't stop himself either.

A maid approached with a tray of glass decanters. "Wine for Their Majesties," she said softly, pouring a deep red liquid into Ben and Anna's glasses.

"For the younger ones," she continued, her tone respectful, "fruit juice—freshly pressed."

The glasses placed before Victor, Ania, and Sasha glowed faintly in the light. The juice was so dark in color it almost mirrored wine, but its fragrance carried sweetness instead of strength.

Ania lifted her glass first, inspecting it curiously. "It looks just like wine!" she said, wide-eyed.

Ben chuckled. "Only the smell gives it away."

Sasha lifted hers next, smiling as she inhaled the faint aroma of fruit and spice. "Still," she said softly, "it's beautiful."

Victor raised his own glass, glancing around the table—his family gathered, sunlight glinting off their smiles.

And for a long, quiet moment, there was no kingdom, no duty, no crown. Just them.

Anna lifted her glass slightly. "To family," she said, her voice steady and warm.

Ben smiled. "To peace."

Ania raised hers high with childish enthusiasm. "To food!"

Laughter rippled through the courtyard, light and genuine. Even Victor couldn't help the quiet chuckle that escaped him.

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