Chapter 565: Lyanna and Cassandra

Carefully, so as not to wake Eleanor, he got out of the bed and dressed quickly. Within moments, he was presentable, and with a thought, he teleported.

He materialized in the central courtyard, near the grand statue of himself that the inhabitants had erected.

And there, walking up the main path toward the castles, were four figures.

Lisa and Isabel flanked two younger women, and even from a distance, Julian could see the family resemblance. He stared as they drew closer, and he got his first clear look at his daughters.

The first was clearly Isabel’s child. She had her mother’s bearing, but her features were softer than Isabel’s. She was more refined, and her eyes... her eyes were Julian’s exact shade of blue. Her hair was a rich brown, falling in a long braid down her back, and she wore leather armor, glinting with enchantments.

Lyanna. Isabel had named her Lyanna.

The second daughter was unmistakably Lisa’s. She was slightly shorter than her half-sister but no less striking. Her features were delicate and refined like Lisa’s, but the shape of her face—that was all Julian. Her hair was a striking platinum blonde, styled in a simple ponytail, and she wore a gown of deep purple.

Cassandra. Lisa’s daughter was Cassandra.

Both young women were breathtakingly beautiful, carrying the best features of their mothers combined with Julian’s own striking looks. And both radiated power.

The group stopped as they noticed Julian standing in the courtyard. Lisa’s and Isabel’s faces lit up with knowing smiles—they had clearly been expecting this meeting. But the two younger women froze, their eyes going wide with shock.

"Mother?" Lyanna’s voice was strong but uncertain, her hand instinctively moving to the sword at her hip. "Who is—"

She cut herself off as she slowly began recognizing. Her eyes fixed on Julian’s face, taking in every detail—the features that were so similar to her own, the eyes that matched hers exactly, and the unmistakable presence of power that marked him as something far beyond ordinary.

Cassandra’s reaction was more subtle. Her composure faltered, her one hand reaching to her chest as if to steady her suddenly racing heart.

"It can’t be," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The statue... the stories... but you’re supposed to be..."

"Dead," Julian finished softly, taking a step toward them. "I was, for a very long time."

Lisa stepped forward, her expression warm and encouraging. "Girls," she said gently, "I’d like you to meet your father. Julian, these are your daughters—Lyanna and Cassandra."

Isabel’s hand rested on Lyanna’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It’s really him, sweetheart. He came back to us. Just like I always told you he would."

Lyanna’s warrior composure cracked. Her hand fell away from her sword, and tears suddenly filled those blue eyes.

"Father—" Her voice broke on the word. "You’re really... you’re really my father?"

"I am," Julian confirmed, his heart racing wildly as well. He took another step closer, drinking in the sight of her. "And I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. Sorry I missed your entire life."

Cassandra’s carefully maintained poise shattered. Tears streamed down her face, though she made no sound.

"We’ve heard stories about you our entire lives," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mother told us everything. About how you created this world. How you saved them all. How you sacrificed yourself so they could live."

"We prayed to your statue," Lyanna added, her own tears now flowing freely. "Every year on the anniversary of your death, we would stand there and talk to you, tell you about our lives, about what we’d accomplished. Hoping somehow you could hear us."

Julian’s heart clenched painfully. "I wish I could have heard," he said softly.

He stopped a few feet away from them, wanting to close the distance but unsure if they would welcome his touch.

"I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. I wasn’t there when you needed a father. But I’m here now, and if you’ll allow it, I’d very much like to know my daughters."

For a moment, no one moved. The tension in the air was heavy.

Then Lyanna moved.

The warrior woman who had helped rule this world, who had maintained order among powerful creatures—she ran toward Julian like a child. Her armor clinked as she threw herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as sobs wracked her body.

"Father," she cried against his shoulder, the word both a greeting and a release. "Father, you came back. You actually came back."

Julian’s arms came up immediately, holding her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head. "I’m here," he murmured. "I’m here, Lyanna."

Cassandra stood frozen for a moment longer. Then, with a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, she too broke and ran forward, joining the embrace. Julian’s other arm opened to welcome her, and suddenly he was holding both his daughter.

"We thought we’d never meet you," Cassandra whispered against his chest. "Mother said you loved us, that you wanted us, but we thought we’d never actually feel your arms around us."

"I’m so sorry," Julian said, pressing kisses to both their heads. "I swear on everything I am—I will never leave you again."

Lisa and Isabel stood back, both women crying openly as they watched their daughters finally meet their father. Eleanor had appeared on a nearby balcony, drawn by the commotion, and she too was smiling through tears. Regina and Gregoria emerged from another castle, and soon all the women were gathering, watching this moment with joy and satisfaction.

Julian held his daughters for a long time, letting them cry, murmuring reassurances and apologies. When they finally pulled back, both young women’s faces were streaked with tears but glowing with happiness.

"You’re really here," Lyanna said wonderingly, reaching up to touch his face as if to confirm he was real. "You’re actually here."

"I am," Julian confirmed, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. "And I want to know everything. Everything about you both."

"That could take a while," Cassandra said with a watery laugh. "We’re over three hundred years old."