POV: Ravenna
Morgana found me in the corridor outside the library, still wiping tears from my face.
"Edmund?" she asked gently.
"He's too good for this world," I muttered. "It's offensive."
She smiled. "His daughter just arrived. Thought you might want to meet her before they leave."
"Brynn." I straightened, trying to look less like I'd been crying. "Yes. Where is she?"
"Guest quarters. Come on."
I followed Morgana through the palace, my mind still turning over Edmund's words. Cherish what you have. Don't waste time being afraid.
Easier said than done, but I was trying.
Morgana knocked on a door and a girl's voice called, "Come in!"
The girl who stood when we entered was sixteen, all nervous energy and observant eyes. She had her father's kind face, dark hair pulled into a simple braid, practical traveling clothes. When she saw me, she immediately dropped into a curtsy.
"Princess Ravenna. It's an honor."
"Please." I moved forward quickly. "No formality. You're Edmund's daughter. That makes you—" What? A friend? Potential ally? "Someone I want to know better."
She straightened, looking uncertain. "Thank you, Your Highness."
"Just Ravenna." I sat in one of the chairs, gesturing for her to do the same. Morgana perched on the window seat, watching with amusement. "Your father told me you're studying?"
"Dragon lore, mostly." Brynn's nervousness began to fade, replaced by enthusiasm. "I'm fascinated by how the Pact changed both species. How dragons and humans merged. How the bond works." She paused, then asked carefully, "Is it true that Solace transformed? After the competition?"
I blinked. "How did you know about that?"
"Court gossip travels fast." She leaned forward. "They say she's different now. Bigger. That her scales are luminous white with red veins beneath. That she might be the most valuable dragon in the kingdoms."
"Court gossip is right for once." I stood. "Want to see her?"
Brynn's eyes went HUGE. "Really? You'd let me—I mean, if it's not too much trouble—"
"Come on." I was already heading for the door. "Before I change my mind."
We walked to the courtyard where Solace liked to sun herself. Morgana stayed behind, giving us space. Probably sensing this was something Brynn and I needed to do alone.
Solace was sprawled across the stones, her white scales catching the afternoon light and scattering it like diamonds. The red veins beneath pulsed gently, visible through the luminous surface. She'd grown—not massively, but noticeably. No longer the smallest dragon in the kingdom.
Brynn stopped dead, hand over her mouth. "Oh," she breathed. "Oh, she's BEAUTIFUL."
Solace's head lifted, eyes opening to regard us. She felt my presence and preened slightly, showing off.
Show-off, I thought at her fondly.
Beautiful, she responded. Like you.
I rolled my eyes but smiled.
"Can I—" Brynn hesitated. "Can I come closer?"
"Solace? What do you think?"
My dragon studied the girl for a long moment. Then she lowered her head in invitation.
Brynn approached slowly, reverently. When she was close enough, she reached out and touched Solace's scales with trembling fingers.
"Warm," she whispered. "I thought hybrid dragons would be cold. Different. But she's—she's warm."
"Why would hybrids be cold?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"The prejudice." Brynn looked at me. "People say hybrid dragons are diluted. Weak. Less than pure-bloods. They say mixing elements corrupts both." Her fingers traced the red veins beneath white scales. "But Solace isn't weak. She's extraordinary."
Something in my chest loosened. "You don't believe the prejudice."
"Of course not." Brynn said it like it was obvious. "Hybrids combine advantages from both elements. They're more adaptable. Often more powerful." She met my eyes. "Being different isn't the same as being less. People just fear what they don't understand."
I liked this girl.
We sat on the stones beside Solace, close enough to feel her warmth. Brynn asked thoughtful questions about being hybrid, about facing prejudice, about how I'd learned to silence the whispers.
I answered honestly. Told her about growing up believing I was weak because my dragon was small. About nobles who'd looked down on me for being "diluted." About finally realizing that their judgment said more about them than me.
"Did it hurt?" Brynn asked quietly. "When they called you weak?"
"Every single time." I looked at Solace. "But their words don't make it true. And now—" I gestured to my transformed dragon. "Now even they can't deny she's powerful."
"You had to prove yourself," Brynn said. "That's not fair."
"No. It's not." I smiled slightly. "But it made me stronger. Made me stop caring what people think."
"I wish I could do that." Her voice was small. "Stop caring."
"Why? What do people say about you?"
She looked down at her hands. "That I'm the daughter of a widower who can't bond again. That my father is broken. That I'm—" She stopped. Swallowed. "That I'm a reminder of his dead wife and he probably wishes I'd died instead of her."
Rage flared hot and fast in my chest. "That's BULLSHIT."
Brynn's head snapped up.
"Your father loves you," I said fiercely. "He stayed alive for you after your mother died. The bond breaking nearly killed him and he survived because YOU needed him. You're not a reminder of loss. You're the reason he kept breathing."
"How do you know?"
"Because he told me." I softened my voice. "Just now. In the library. He said losing your mother taught him that bonds are precious and should never be taken for granted. That his love for her was strong enough to give him reason to keep living—and that reason was YOU."
Tears welled in Brynn's eyes. "He said that?"
"Word for word." I reached over and squeezed her hand. "Anyone who says otherwise is cruel and wrong and you should ignore them completely."
She nodded, wiping her eyes. We sat in silence for a moment, both processing.
"My mother died when I was eight," Brynn said finally. "I barely remember her. Just—pieces. Her laugh. Her hands. The way she smelled like herbs." She looked at me. "Do you remember yours?"
"No." The word came out rougher than I intended. "She died the day I was born. I never knew her at all."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too." I looked up at the sky. "I spent twenty-one years believing I killed her. That being born was murder."
"What changed?"
"I found out she was actually murdered. By someone else. Someone who poisoned her and made it look like childbirth complications."
Brynn gasped. "That's—gods, that's horrible."
"Yeah." I managed a smile. "But at least now I know. I spent my whole life carrying guilt that wasn't mine. Now I can—I don't know. Let it go, maybe. Stop hating myself for surviving."
"You should never have had to carry that," Brynn said quietly. "Just like I should never have had to hear that Father wishes I'd died instead of Mother." She looked at me directly. "We both got dealt terrible hands. But we're still here. Still breathing. Still trying."
"Yeah." I squeezed her hand again. "We are."
We talked for another hour. About dragons and magic and loss. About what it was like growing up without mothers. About the weight of other people's expectations and judgments. About learning to find strength in the things that were supposed to make us weak.
By the time Edmund came to collect his daughter, I felt like I'd made a real friend. Not someone who saw me as Princess Ravenna and acted accordingly. But someone who saw me as just—me. Another girl carrying grief and trying to figure out how to be okay.
"Brynn." Edmund's voice was warm. "Time to go, sweetheart."
She stood, brushing off her dress. Then—to my complete surprise—she hugged me.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For showing me Solace. For talking. For understanding."
"Thank you," I whispered back. "For reminding me I'm not alone."
She pulled back and smiled. Then leaned in close and added quietly, "I think Theron is lucky to have you. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
My throat went tight. "I'll try."
Edmund offered me his arm and I walked with them to the palace gates where their carriage waited. We said proper goodbyes—formal and appropriate for witnesses.
But when they climbed into the carriage, Brynn waved through the window with genuine warmth.
And I waved back, feeling something like hope settle in my chest.
Edmund had shown me what honor looked like.
Brynn had shown me what strength looked like when you were young and scared and trying anyway.
Both of them had given me gifts I didn't deserve and would never forget.
As the carriage disappeared down the road, I turned back toward the palace.
Toward Theron. Toward the future I was trying to be brave enough to accept. And for the first time in my life, I felt ready.