Ariel stepped into the palace garden—a breathtaking dome of glowing sea flora and swaying tendrils that shimmered like northern lights. The water beyond the glass pulsed gently, and the garden floor felt soft beneath her bare feet.
She wasn't expecting anyone. Just a quiet moment to think.
But Draelos was already there.
He stood beside a tall coral tree, arms folded, eyes closed—as though deep in thought or meditation. The sight stole her breath, not just because of how he looked, but because she hadn't seen him look... peaceful before.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," she said softly.
His eyes opened, silver and sharp. "You're not."
She stepped closer, fingers grazing one of the glowing vines. "This place… it's magical."
"It is," he said, voice unreadable. "Not many are allowed in here."
She raised a brow. "Then why am I?"
He turned fully to her. "Because you're my bride. And you've been curious."
She laughed lightly. "Is that a warning or a compliment?"
"Both," he said, with the faintest ghost of a smile.
They walked side by side in silence for a few minutes. Then Ariel finally asked, "Why don't the royal couples stay together? You said before it's tradition... but that's not the whole truth, is it?"
Draelos didn't stop walking. "Marriage among royals is rarely about affection. It's about legacy, duty, magic. Things more complicated than desire."
She tilted her head. "But do you believe in love?"
He looked at her then—long and hard. "I believe it's dangerous."
They stopped by a low stone bench shaped like a shell. He motioned for her to sit. She did.
"Your pendant," he said, "do you feel it?"
She touched the smooth surface. "Sometimes it hums."
"It's bonded to you. If you lose it, the ocean will turn on you."
"Comforting," she muttered. "And here I was hoping for a honeymoon."
He chuckled. A sound so warm and rare it startled even him.
Then silence fell again.
Until she asked boldly, "Will you sing for me?"
His silver eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"I read that siren voices are... enchanting. Hypnotic. I want to hear it for myself."
"You want to test your prince?" he said, amused.
"I want to know you," she replied softly.
He didn't answer. Instead, he reached forward and gently took her hand.
"Be careful what you ask for, Ariel. Some songs are not meant for mortal ears."
Then, without warning, he leaned forward—and whispered something in a tongue she didn't know.
Her heart stilled. The pendant on her chest burned hot for a second, then cooled.
"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.
He stood. "A promise."
And before she could ask anything more, he walked away—vanishing between the glowing trees.
Ariel sat alone in the garden, palm still tingling where he'd touched her.
*She didn't know what he'd promised.
But her soul had definitely heard it.*