"The Selkie Wife loved her children, but she could never forget the song of the sea that called to her," Gray narrated to Juvia.

"Many times she begged her husband to return her coat, but he refused. As the days passed, sorrow weighed on her until she grew weak with longing. Her children could not bear to see their mother fading away like that."

He paused slightly, letting the story settle before continuing.

"So one day, the cleverest of them—the son—followed his father to a hidden place where the selkie coat was kept. When the opportunity came, he stole it and brought it back to his mother."

Juvia listened, completely captivated, as if she could see the story unfolding before her eyes.

"The moment she held it again, she embraced her son and promised her children she would love them always. Then she put on the coat, became a seal once more, and returned to the sea. The fisherman and the villagers never saw her again... though at night, it was said the children sometimes crept to the shore, where their mother would visit them in the waves."

When Gray finished, Juvia stared at him in quiet awe, the folktale still alive in her imagination. He had a way of telling stories—measured, vivid, effortless—that made every detail feel real. She had never thought she'd meet anyone who could rival even Levy's storytelling.

"Did you like that one?" he asked.

Juvia nodded.

"You're the first woman I've met—besides my mother or Ur—who actually enjoys these stories," Gray admitted with a small, almost embarrassed smile. "You don't think they're silly or childish. Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded again.

"Okay... I've only told this to Ur before. And that's mostly because I figured anyone else would think I've lost my mind." He hesitated, then glanced at her more seriously. "But something tells me you won't, right?"

Juvia shook her head.

"Alright then." He took a breath. "My father once believed he met a selkie."

Curiosity sparked in Juvia's eyes.

"Do you want to hear about it?"

She nodded quickly.

"It was after he met my mother. He was sailing the seas to find the perfect jewel to propose to her with. But during the voyage, pirates attacked his ship, and he was thrown overboard."

Gray's voice softened as he continued.

"Someone saved him. He washed up on a small island, feverish and disoriented. When he woke, he was in the home of a young woman. She stayed by his side, nursing him back to health with remedies and methods he had never seen before."

"When he recovered, he promised her anything she wished in return for saving his life. And she asked for one thing—she wanted to become his wife, because she had fallen in love with him during their time together. My father was kind, and he always kept his word... but he begged her not to ask that of him. He told her that while he cared for her, he loved my mother more than anything in the world, and could never know happiness without her. The girl was heartbroken, but she let him go. Instead, she blessed his journey and gave him a boat to return home."

Gray's expression softened further.

"He offered to take her with him, to bring her back as a noblewoman. But she refused, saying the sea was her true home. The next morning, when he prepared to leave, she was gone. All he found aboard the boat was the most beautiful jewel he had ever seen. And as he sailed away, he noticed a seal watching from the rocks... with eyes just like hers."

Gray looked at Juvia quietly.

"He never knew for certain if she was a selkie. But he always believed she was."

"She was a selkie," Juvia thought, watching him with gentle certainty. "You can always tell who someone truly is by their eyes. That's how I know you're wonderful."

Far from the quiet moment, Panther Lily had finally reached the Summer Palace. With careful precision, he climbed the vines along its outer wall and slipped through a small open window.
Like a cat moving through shadows, he began searching for Juvia. Sea-cats, unlike most creatures of the sea, were bio-elemental—able to shift between two worlds. Land or water, though they usually preferred the sea.

He moved through the shadows and corners, silent and unseen, following only instinct and scent. Like a predator of the deep, Panther Lily slipped beneath the dining table just as voices carried through the room.

"My father used that jewel for my mother's ring, and they never forgot her," Gray was saying. "Because if not for her, my father may have died all those years ago. They also chose to always regard the sea—and its creatures—with respect and decency. In Verdenshav, it's forbidden for any creature of the ocean to be harmed unless it's to feed our people."

Lily stiffened. For a moment, he forgot to breathe. Had he heard that correctly? Humans in this kingdom weren't allowed to harm sea creatures unless it was necessary for survival? A law written by their own king? It didn't make sense. He rubbed at his ears once, sharply, as if the motion might clear the words from them. But they remained unchanged.

Verdenshav's king had ordered the death of the former sea king and queen. That was what everyone knew. That was what had been survived, remembered, carried like a scar beneath the waves. A royal navy ship had done it on the king's command. That was what they had always believed. So what was this?

"Dinner is served," Ur announced as she entered the dining hall, carrying a tray of carefully prepared food, followed by Lahar with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

Juvia seemed hungrier than she realized. The moment her plate was set before her, she reached for the first thing she saw and promptly tried to eat a sprig of garnish. Lahar gave her a strange look. Ur and Gray, however, looked delighted.

"Oh no, dear," Ur laughed softly. "You don't eat that. It's garnish. It's just for looks."

Juvia froze. Gray immediately broke into laughter.

"On no, I'm not laughing at you," he said quickly when he saw her expression crumble. "I promise. It just reminded me of the time when I was six and I was too hungry to wait for supper."

He leaned back slightly, smiling at the memory.

"So I tried to eat seaweed that washed up on shore. Lahar caught me right before I put it in my mouth and started yelling that I was about to poison myself."

"Well, you were," Lahar insisted firmly as he poured the wine. "No one knows where that seaweed had been."

"It was seaweed, Lahar. Where else would it have been except the sea?"

Juvia tried to picture it—Gray as a small boy, messy and curious, wandering wherever his imagination led him. The thought softened something in her chest, and a small smile returned to her face. Gray liked her smile. It was as if the light of paradise had suddenly illuminated her angelic face, revealing a radiant form of youthful beauty that captivated all who beheld it. Her smile was so enchanting that it inspired joy simply by existing, and it certainly filled the prince with happiness.

"Why, Gray, that's the first time I've seen you happy in weeks," Ur remarked gently as she set the last dish down.

"Yes," Lahar added with a knowing smile, "this charming girl certainly knows how to make you smile. My dear, you've accomplished the impossible—you've made our gloomy prince bright again. We are eternally in your debt."

Gray gave them both an exasperated look, though the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

"Don't start," he muttered.

"But we can discuss that later," Ur said briskly. "Now hurry and eat before your meal gets cold."

Dinner was stegt flæsk and oysters—an unfamiliar pairing to Juvia, though she had tasted oysters before. These, however, were different: warm, delicately seasoned, rich with spice rather than cold and briny. It was an entirely new experience, and her eyes widened slightly as she tried to place the flavors.

The stegt flæsk was even more astonishing. She had never eaten pork before, nor potatoes. Everything was buttery, savory, and deeply satisfying in a way she couldn't quite describe. A small, delighted expression crossed her face as she tried each bite, as though discovering an entirely new language written in taste.

"A pity we don't have food like this underwater," she thought absently.

When she tried the wine, however, her reaction changed. The sharp bitterness caught her off guard, and she set the glass down with a faint, uncertain wince.

"Perhaps we should ease you into wine, my lady," Lahar said kindly, taking the glass away. "I'll bring you honeyed water instead."

"And I'll go check on your room," Ur added, already heading for the door.

For the next hour, they ate and talked. Gray, once he started telling stories again, seemed to forget the passage of time entirely. Juvia listened just as intently as before, her attention never wavering. Even Panther Lily, still hidden beneath the table and half-shadowed by cloth and furniture, found himself unexpectedly drawn in. A human speaking so easily—and so knowledgeably—about ocean folklore was... unusual. Surprising, even.

He had always assumed humans were ignorant when it came to the sea. Clearly, Verdenshav was not what he thought it was.

Eventually, Gray leaned back and glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Wow... I didn't realize it had gotten this late," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We should probably turn in. I've got some boring arrangements early tomorrow, and you're probably exhausted."

He stood, then offered Juvia a hand without hesitation. Like a gentleman accustomed to instinct rather than instruction, he escorted her upstairs. The room waiting for her was a suite soft and elegant—blue and cream tones washing the space in calm warmth. A canopy bed stood at its center, layered with velvet cushions, and beyond it, a wide balcony window opened toward the sea. The ocean stretched out beneath the night sky, vast and glimmering, as if it were breathing quietly just beyond reach.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here," he said softly.

Juvia nodded, meeting his gaze with a look so bright with gratitude it made the words feel unnecessary.

"Good. Well I should go and let you rest. Goodnight."

Gray bowed slightly—polite, almost formal—and then stepped out, closing the door behind him. Neither of them saw Panther Lily slip through the narrow gap near the floor as it clicked shut.

"Finally!" Lily hissed under his breath, dropping to the ground and catching his breath. "God, it's been years since I've had to run and climb like that on land."

Juvia crossed the room to a small changing partition, picking up the nightgown laid out on the bed.

"Okay," Lily began from the shadows, voice lowering as he composed himself, "I've been watching and listening to this human you've become enamored with. I'll admit... he's not as awful as I expected. I can see the appeal. Somewhat."

Juvia peeked out from behind the divider and smiled faintly at him.

"But don't get comfortable," he continued immediately, stern again. "First thing tomorrow morning, I'm marching straight back and telling your brother—"

Juvia's head snapped up.

Before he could finish, she hurried over, scooping him up into her arms and shaking her head quickly, eyes wide with pleading urgency.

"Oh no, don't you shake your head at me, young lady! I can already smell disaster coming!" Lily protested, ears flattening. "There's no way you're going to marry this prince before the Summer Solstice! It's impossible! Our best bet is to find Gajeel, tell him what's happened, and he'll force that witch to undo this, return your voice, and then you can go home and just be—"

He stopped. The words caught in his throat.
Because Juvia's face changed. At first, he thought it was just sadness. But the longer he looked, the more familiar it became. Not new. Not sudden.
Known. He had seen it before—so many times he'd stopped counting. When she was ignored at home. When others laughed instead of listening. When she was excluded unless her singing was needed. When she argued with her brother and still wasn't heard afterward.

It wasn't a passing sadness. It was something deeper. A quiet acceptance of being unwanted where she came from.

"Just be miserable for the rest of your life," Lily muttered at last, defeated. He exhaled sharply. "Alright. I won't tell him."

Relief flooded Juvia's expression instantly. She pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head in thanks.

Lily huffed, but didn't stop her.

Soon after, she climbed into the feather-soft bed, sinking into warmth she had never known before. The comfort of it, the scent, the silence—it wrapped around her like something fragile and precious. It didn't take long before her eyes drifted shut, a peaceful smile lingering on her face. It was, without question, one of the happiest days of her life. For years she had dreamed of this—of the world above, of freedom beyond the sea, of something that felt like hers.

And now it was real.

"Lord give me strength," Lily muttered quietly from his cushion as he curled up. "I really hope I'm doing the right thing."