The palace gates closed behind them with a low groan of iron against stone.
For the first time since sunrise, Arthur found himself walking instead of marching.
The difference mattered.
A procession attracted attention. A procession announced power, demanded recognition, and reminded everyone watching exactly who stood at the center of it. Walking through the capital at dusk did something entirely different. It allowed him to exist among the people rather than above them.
The streets beyond the palace walls were already settling into their evening rhythm. Merchants lowered wooden shutters over shopfronts, lantern lighters moved down the avenues with long poles balanced over their shoulders, and the warm scent of fresh bread drifted from a nearby bakery preparing its final batch before closing.
Manik noticed everything.
Not because he was afraid.
Because he had trained himself to.
His eyes moved constantly, quietly cataloguing details most people would have ignored. He noticed a pair of city guards changing shifts, both of them waiting until the very last moment before offering the formal salute expected of them. He noticed a fishmonger quietly handing the day's remaining catch to an elderly woman instead of throwing it away. He noticed two young apprentices struggling beneath a wooden crate that was clearly too heavy for them, arguing over whose fault it was before a passing carpenter sighed and helped them carry it.
No one seemed to realize that the man walking through their streets had just changed the political landscape of half the world.
That surprised him.
He had expected something different.
Crowds.
Whispers.
Soldiers forming lines.
Instead, Arthur moved through the city almost like anyone else.
A nod here.
A brief wave there.
Nothing exaggerated.
Nothing performed.
"Evening, Your Majesty!" a blacksmith called from across the street without looking up from the glowing metal beneath his hammer.
Arthur raised two fingers in greeting.
"Don't work too late."
The blacksmith chuckled.
"My wife keeps saying that."
"She's probably right."
That was it.
The entire exchange lasted only a few seconds before both returned to their own lives.
Yet Manik found himself thinking about it.
The conversation had been casual.
Almost impossibly casual.
Sonya, walking beside him, seemed to notice the same thing.
"People just... talk to you?"
Arthur glanced down at her.
"They usually do."
She looked around at the passing citizens.
"They aren't afraid?"
"Some are."
Arthur stepped aside as a wagon rolled past, waiting until it had cleared before continuing.
"Most aren't."
Manik studied him quietly.
That answer bothered him more than a grand speech would have.
A ruler admitting fear existed was normal.
A ruler admitting people didn't need to fear him was not.
Ahead of them, a young girl suddenly ran into the street after a paper windmill that had slipped from her hands. Before she could get too far, Arthur reached out and caught the toy.
He crouched down and held it out.
"There you go."
The girl accepted it with both hands, her eyes widening as she recognized who had returned it.
"Thank you!"
Her mother arrived moments later, apologizing quickly while trying to guide her daughter back toward the sidewalk.
Arthur only smiled.
"No harm done."
And just like that, they left.
No bowing.
No ceremony.
No announcement.
Just a family continuing home.
Manik watched them disappear into the crowd.
"...That's strange."
Arthur looked over.
"What is?"
"I thought rulers preferred everyone being terrified."
"Some do."
Arthur continued down the street.
"I don't."
Sonya tilted her head slightly.
"Why?"
Arthur was quiet for a moment.
"Because fear makes people tell you what they think you want to hear."
The twins listened.
"Honest conversations are more useful."
Manik didn't respond.
He wasn't convinced.
But he remembered the answer.
That was what he did with everything.
They eventually turned away from the busier streets and entered a quieter residential avenue lined with broad oak trees. The houses here were not massive palaces or intimidating estates. They belonged to respected officials, wealthy families, and old noble houses, but they still looked lived in.
Children's chalk drawings decorated stone pathways.
Flower boxes rested beneath windows.
Bicycles leaned against fences.
Curtains remained open despite the approaching night, revealing families eating dinner or relaxing together inside.
The neighborhood felt ordinary.
That was perhaps what made it unusual.
The D'Collette Manor stood near the end of the street.
It was built from warm gray stone, with ivy climbing along one side and lanterns glowing beside the entrance. Unlike the grand halls of the palace, the manor did not seem designed to impress visitors.
It seemed designed to welcome people.
Light spilled from almost every downstairs window.
And somewhere inside, someone was laughing.
Not politely.
Not carefully.
Actually laughing.
Then the smell reached them.
Roasted vegetables.
Fresh bread.
A meal cooked slowly with herbs and spices.
Sonya's stomach betrayed her before she could stop it.
The sound echoed embarrassingly through the quiet street.
She froze.
Arthur deliberately looked straight ahead.
Manik did not.
His eyes moved toward his sister.
She noticed immediately.
"If you say anything, I swear—"
He stopped himself.
Barely.
"...You are hungry."
"No."
Her stomach immediately disagreed.
Sonya's expression hardened.
"It has poor judgment."
For the first time that evening, Manik almost smiled.
Almost.
Arthur pushed open the front gate.
"I should warn you."
Both twins looked toward him.
"About what?"
"My household."
Manik's expression immediately became cautious again.
"Should we be concerned?"
Arthur considered his answer.
"They interrupt each other."
Neither child reacted.
"They argue."
Still nothing.
"They steal food off each other's plates."
Sonya frowned.
"That's the warning?"
Arthur opened the front door.
"It'll make more sense shortly."
Warm air immediately rushed outside to meet them.
After hours of cold marble halls and political tension, the difference was almost startling. The manor smelled like a home. Dinner cooking. Wood burning. People existing without constantly measuring every word.
A voice called from another room.
"Arthur? Is that finally you?"
Before Arthur could answer, another voice immediately followed.
"No, obviously it's a burglar politely opening the front door."
"Patch."
"What? It could happen."
"It really couldn't."
"It absolutely—"
Arthur sighed quietly.
"...See?"
For the first time since leaving the palace, Sonya made a small sound that was almost a laugh.
Almost.
Manik looked from the open doorway to Arthur.
"You weren't exaggerating."
"No."
Arthur stepped inside.
"They've probably already started without me."
And judging by the voices already arguing from the dining room, he was almost certainly correct.
-------
The moment Arthur stepped inside D'Collette Manor, the difference between the palace and this house became impossible to ignore.
The palace had been built to impress.
This place had been built to live in.
There were no towering statues of forgotten rulers watching from alcoves, no polished marble floors designed more for ceremony than comfort, no endless corridors where every footstep seemed to announce itself. The entryway of D'Collette Manor was warm, crowded, and unmistakably lived-in. Coats hung unevenly on wooden hooks near the door. A pair of small boots had been abandoned beside the staircase. Someone had left a half-finished book open on a side table, its pages held down by a small stone shaped like a bird.
Manik noticed that immediately.
Not because it was unusual.
Because it was.
A royal residence would never allow something so ordinary to remain unattended.
Here, nobody seemed to care.
That unsettled him more than he expected.
Sonya, meanwhile, had already been distracted by the sound of voices coming from the dining room.
Not formal voices.
Not the careful, rehearsed conversations of nobles.
Real ones.
"Arthur, you are aware that dinner becomes cold if people stand around arguing in the doorway, correct?" called Guinivere from the other room.
Arthur smiled faintly.
"I was aware."
"Then why are you doing it?"
"Because Patch was making a point."
"I was making an important point," Patch called back.
"You were complaining that someone moved your chair two inches."
"It was a strategic chair placement."
"It was a chair."
"A strategically important chair."
Arthur looked down at Manik and Sonya.
"That's Patch."
The twins stared.
"That explains nothing," Manik said.
"It will."
They entered the dining room.
The sight waiting for them was something neither twin had expected.
Everyone was there.
Doc sat near one end of the table, already halfway through his meal, though his attention was clearly divided between his plate and the conversation happening around him. His glasses rested slightly lower on his nose than usual, giving him the look of someone who had spent the day thinking too hard and refusing to admit it.
Guinivere sat beside him, calmer but no less observant, immediately noticing the two unfamiliar faces beside Arthur. Her expression softened slightly—not with pity, but with understanding.
Patch D'Collette was exactly as loud as Arthur had warned.
The young boy was leaning back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself.
His mother, Mary D'Collette, sat beside him with the patient expression of someone who had spent years learning how to deal with that exact amount of energy.
Sir Armand D'Collette sat at the opposite side of the table. His posture remained disciplined even while eating, though the exhaustion from the day's events still showed in the way his shoulders rested slightly heavier than usual.
Boomer was there as well, talking animatedly while baby Miles sat nearby, safely entertained and making occasional happy noises that seemed completely disconnected from the political disaster that had unfolded only hours earlier.
And Buns, as always, appeared to be the person most likely to notice everything while saying the least.
The room quieted.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Everyone looked toward Arthur.
Then toward the twins.
Arthur stepped forward.
"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Manik and Sonya."
The twins instinctively straightened.
Old habits.
Royal posture.
Royal expectations.
Arthur continued.
"They're my brother and sister."
The statement landed harder than either of them expected.
Manik's expression barely changed, but his eyes flickered briefly toward Arthur.
Sonya looked at him openly.
Not suspiciously.
Not exactly.
More like she was still trying to understand how quickly the world had changed.
Arthur didn't elaborate.
He didn't need to.
The room understood.
Guinivere was the first to respond.
"Then welcome home."
Simple.
No grand speech.
No questions.
Just four words.
For some reason, that made Sonya look away.
Manik noticed.
Of course he did.
"Home," he repeated quietly.
Patch tilted his head.
"Is that weird?"
Manik looked at him.
"Most people don't introduce strangers to a home by calling it theirs."
Patch shrugged.
"Arthur does things differently."
"That is one way to describe it," Doc said dryly.
Arthur gave him a look.
Doc raised his hands slightly.
"I'm merely observing."
"You're criticizing."
"Those are sometimes the same activity."
A small silence followed.
Then, unexpectedly, Sonya laughed.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't even intentional.
But it happened.
Everyone noticed.
Especially her.
She immediately looked annoyed with herself.
Manik looked at her.
"You laughed."
"I did not."
"You did."
"I breathed differently."
"That was a laugh."
"Don't make it worse."
Patch grinned.
"She's fun."
Sonya narrowed her eyes.
"I don't know if that's a compliment."
"It is."
"That makes it worse."
The tension in the room eased.
Not disappeared.
Everyone knew what had happened at the palace.
Nobody was pretending otherwise.
But for the first time all day, Manik and Sonya weren't standing in a room where every word was a weapon.
They sat down.
Dinner began.
For the first few minutes, the twins mostly observed.
It was instinct.
They watched how everyone interacted.
Who interrupted who.
Who listened.
Who avoided certain topics.
Who reached for food without asking.
The answer to the last one was Patch.
"Patch."
"What?"
"You took the last roll."
"You noticed."
"Because it was the last one."
"Exactly."
Mary sighed.
"Patch."
"I was hungry."
"You had three."
"Those were previous rolls."
Manik stared.
Sonya stared.
Arthur quietly continued eating.
"I warned you."
"You did," Manik admitted.
Sonya glanced at him.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm evaluating."
"You're judging."
"Those are sometimes the same activity."
Doc looked up.
"He's learning."
Arthur almost smiled.
Almost.
The conversation slowly shifted.
Not toward politics.
Not toward the palace.
Toward normal things.
Boomer complained about spending the afternoon fixing equipment that "should have been retired ten years ago."
Patch argued that the equipment was "beautifully old."
Sir Armand disagreed.
Mary asked Sonya what foods she liked.
Guinivere asked Manik what books he preferred.
Simple questions.
Dangerously simple.
The twins weren't used to them.
Eventually, Arthur leaned back slightly.
"Armand."
Sir Armand looked over.
"Yes?"
"The prisoners."
The room quieted slightly.
Not completely.
But enough.
"Are they secure?"
Sir Armand nodded.
"Yes."
His answer came immediately.
"Lord Abraham Tower and Snively are both being held under guard. No visitors without authorization. No communication with outside parties. Their restraints have been checked twice."
Arthur nodded.
"Good."
"They're angry."
"I assumed they would be."
"They're also trying to understand what happened."
Arthur looked down at his plate.
"Let them."
Sir Armand studied him for a moment.
Then nodded.
The subject ended there.
No dramatic speech.
No reminder of what had happened.
Just a necessary question and a necessary answer.
Manik noticed that.
Arthur didn't waste words.
That was becoming a pattern.
Later, as plates began disappearing and conversation became less formal, Arthur turned toward Boomer.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."
Boomer looked over.
"What's up?"
"The broadcast equipment."
Boomer's expression immediately brightened.
"Already thinking ahead?"
"Unfortunately."
"That's usually your problem."
Arthur ignored that.
"I want to make another announcement tomorrow morning."
Boomer leaned forward.
"Another speech?"
"Yes."
"To everyone?"
"Everyone who needs to hear it."
Boomer thought for a moment.
Then smiled.
"Yeah. I can help."
Arthur looked over.
"You're sure?"
"Arthur, after today? Absolutely."
Boomer tapped the table.
"I'll get everything ready tonight. Make sure the signal reaches where it needs to."
"Thank you."
"No problem."
Sonya watched the exchange quietly.
"You really trust him."
Arthur glanced toward Boomer.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Boomer answered before Arthur could.
"Because I don't usually break expensive equipment."
A pause.
Everyone looked at him.
"...Usually?"
Boomer grinned.
"Usually."
Even Manik almost smiled.
Almost.
By the time dinner ended, the manor no longer felt like a strange place.
Not familiar.
Not yet.
But less strange.
Manik stood near the doorway, watching everyone move around one another with an ease he couldn't quite understand.
Nobody was pretending.
Nobody was performing.
They were simply people.
Sonya stood beside him.
"You know," she said quietly, "this is weird."
"Yes."
"I expected something else."
"So did I."
She glanced toward Arthur, who was speaking with Doc near the fireplace.
"He doesn't act like a king."
Manik considered that.
"No."
"Is that good?"
"I don't know."
A pause.
Then:
"But it's different."
Sonya nodded.
For once, neither of them had an argument ready.
Arthur eventually approached.
"You two ready?"
They looked at him.
Not as a ruler.
Not as someone holding power over them.
Just Arthur.
Manik adjusted his coat.
"Where are we sleeping?"
"Guest rooms."
"Separate?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Yes."
Sonya looked offended.
"We share a room."
Arthur paused.
"You want to continue doing that?"
The twins looked at each other.
Then away.
"No," they both answered.
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Thought so."
The three of them began heading upstairs.
Behind them, D'Collette Manor continued as it always had.
Loud.
Messy.
Warm.
And for the first time in a very long time, Manik and Sonya followed someone somewhere without wondering what price would be demanded afterward.
-------
Dinner had long since ended by the time the manor finally began to quiet.
The energy that had filled the dining room only an hour earlier slowly faded into softer sounds: dishes being carried toward the kitchen, chairs being pushed back into place, distant laughter from the sitting room, and the occasional muffled complaint from Patch about someone stealing the last piece of dessert.
For Manik and Sonya, it had been strange.
Not because the food was unfamiliar. Not because the manor itself was unfamiliar. They had spent their entire lives surrounded by wealth, servants, and grand halls.
It was strange because nobody here seemed interested in reminding them of any of that.
Nobody bowed every time they entered a room.
Nobody carefully measured every word around them.
Nobody treated them like symbols of a fallen dynasty.
They had simply been two children who needed somewhere warm to sit.
And somehow, that unsettled them more than any threat could have.
Manik had spent most of the evening quietly observing. He noticed how Doc argued with Boomer over the proper way to repair an old radio, how Guinivere corrected Patch whenever he exaggerated a story, and how Mary D'Collette somehow managed to keep an entire conversation going while also making sure baby Miles stayed comfortable in her arms.
There was no strategy behind any of it.
No political calculation.
No hidden motive.
Just people being people.
That alone made it difficult for him to understand.
Sonya had adapted faster.
Not completely.
She still watched everyone carefully. Still measured reactions. Still looked toward Arthur every now and then as if expecting some unseen condition attached to his kindness.
But she laughed once.
Quietly.
Almost accidentally.
Nobody pointed it out.
Arthur noticed.
He was kind enough not to mention it.
Eventually, the twins disappeared upstairs with Guinivere to settle into one of the guest rooms. Neither protested. Neither asked when they would return to the palace.
That question could wait.
For the first time in a very long while, they had somewhere else to be.
Downstairs, the manor settled into the peaceful exhaustion that followed a busy day.
Arthur stood near the fireplace, watching the flames move across the room while Doc and Boomer continued their discussion about tomorrow's broadcast. The conversation was filled with the usual interruptions, half-finished ideas, and occasional disagreements that somehow never became actual arguments.
Sir Armand D'Collette remained near the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.
Mary noticed.
She always noticed.
"You've been quiet all evening."
Armand looked over.
His wife stood beside the dining table, carefully stacking the remaining dishes that had not already been taken away.
"I've had a great deal to think about."
Mary gave him a knowing look.
"That usually means you've had a great deal to worry about."
Armand sighed.
"Is it that obvious?"
"To me? Yes."
A faint smile crossed his face.
After everything that had happened—the palace, Ciara's collapse, Arthur's announcement, and the uncertainty of what came next—smiling had felt like something he had forgotten how to do.
Mary noticed that too.
"You were worried about them."
Armand did not ask who she meant.
"The children."
His gaze moved toward the staircase.
"Manik and Sonya."
Mary nodded.
"They've been through a lot."
"They're too young to have learned how to hide pain that well."
The words came out quieter than he intended.
Mary's expression softened.
"You recognized it."
Armand looked back at her.
"Because I've done the same."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled.
The manor creaked softly around them.
Outside, the streets of the capital continued on, unaware that the future of kingdoms had shifted inside a single evening.
"I spent years serving a crown," Armand said eventually. "I told myself loyalty meant protecting the person who wore it. No matter what."
Mary leaned against the table.
"And now?"
He looked toward the staircase again.
"Now I wonder if loyalty was ever meant to protect the crown at all."
Mary smiled sadly.
"Maybe it was meant to protect the people beneath it."
Armand considered that.
Then slowly nodded.
"Arthur is reckless."
Mary raised an eyebrow.
"That's a very polite way of saying it."
"He walks into impossible situations and somehow expects the world to move aside."
"That sounds familiar."
Armand gave her a look.
She smiled innocently.
"I married you, remember?"
Despite himself, Armand chuckled.
"But..."
The smile faded slightly.
"But?"
"He cares."
Mary watched him carefully.
"Yes."
"He could have treated those children like tools. Political assets. Symbols."
"But he didn't."
"No."
Armand looked toward the ceiling. "He immediately called them his brother and sister." There was something about the statement that still seemed impossible to him.
Not because Arthur had said it. Because Arthur had meant it.
Mary stepped closer and placed a hand gently against his arm. "You care about him too."
Armand did not answer immediately. He did not need to. Mary already knew. "He reminds you of yourself."
Armand looked offended. "He does not."
"He absolutely does."
"He is far more reckless."
"You're saying that as if it's a defense." Armand opened his mouth, then stopped. Mary smiled. "Exactly."
The old knight shook his head, but there was no real frustration behind it.
For a few moments, they simply stood together.
Not as noble and knight. Not as servants of a kingdom.
Just as husband and wife.
Eventually, Armand glanced toward the hallway. "I should recheck on the prisoners before I retire with you for the night."
Mary nodded. "Are they secure?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Armand hesitated. Then he looked back at her. "You seemed like you wanted to tell me something earlier."
Mary's expression changed. Only slightly.
But Armand noticed. Almost two decades of marriage had made him far better at reading her than any battlefield opponent. "What is it?"
She looked down for a moment, almost nervous. That alone caught his attention. Mary D'Collette was many things.
Kind. Patient. Warm.
But nervous was rarely one of them. "I was going to wait until everything was calmer."
Armand straightened. "Mary?"
She looked back up at him.
And for the first time all evening, her smile was not tired. It was just hopeful.
"I went to see the physician this morning."
Armand's brow furrowed.
"Are you alright?"
Mary laughed softly. "Yes."
She reached for his hand. "More than alright."
The realization took a moment. Then another.
And when it finally reached him, the usually composed knight simply froze.
Mary squeezed his hand gently. "I'm pregnant, again."
The room went completely silent. Armand stared at her.
Not like a knight receiving an order. Not like a soldier hearing news of a battle.
Like a man who had just been handed something far more precious than any title or weapon he had ever carried.
"Pregnant..."
Mary nodded. A slow smile broke across his face.
After everything. After the uncertainty. After the fear.
After watching kingdoms change and old powers fall apart...
There was still something new beginning.
Armand carefully placed a hand over hers, almost as if afraid the moment might disappear if he moved too quickly.
"I..."
For once, Sir Armand D'Collette had no prepared response.
No noble words. No knightly speech. No clever remark.
Only the truth. "I don't know what to say."
Mary smiled. "That might be the first time I've heard you admit that."
He laughed quietly. A genuine laugh.
The kind that had not come easily in months.
"But... I am happy for what this means for us."
"Good, because I was going to kill you if you decided to suddenly become a deadbeat."
"Please, like I'd be so callous."