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Chapter Text

Drowning

She was drowning

The awful, cold water filled in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe!

She couldn’t speak! She couldn’t even squirm in pain

All she could do was sink further and further into this watery abyss, forever; a silent scream forever stuck on her throat…

Help! Help me! Help !! HELP —!!

"Bloom?"

A horrified gasp left the redhead fairy as she woke up startled, panting and gasping heavily, as if she was still underwater

She yelped, hands on her throat, that silent scream for help still stuck on her throat, her eyes darting left and right in a panic

“Bloom! Bloom! Listen to me!" A panicked voice that wasn’t her own called out to her

Bloom? Bloom, yes…

That was her name!

Her vision became clearer. She tried to control her panicked breathing as she took notice of her surroundings

She was safe. She wasn’t drowning but in a comfy bed. And there was someone else right in front of her. The one who called out to her and broke her out of her panic, still looking at her with concern

Bloom remembered her…

Stella. Her name was Stella…

That’s right…

She had invited Stella for a sleepover at the palace in Domino to keep the nightmares away because she thought it would be fun

King Radius had happily agreed. He looked at Bloom as if she was a particularly pretty piece of chess game. He’s never seen her before; never acknowledged her

She had always suspected that the King of Solaria never quite approved that she was best friends with her daughter, or that Brandon was her boyfriend. The only exceptions were Sky and Aisha, the only other two royals of their family. kinship. all they had friend group

But now that Bloom was one of the princesses of the restored kingdom of Domino, he always talked to her like if they were good chums

Always asking how things at Alfea always were or how her new royal duties were going, but he never bothered asking questions about herself

He never asked Bloom if she was okay

"Are you okay?" But Stella wasn’t like that. She asked her question with concern, her beautiful eyes gleaming with the moon, a nice contrast against her golden hair

It reminded Bloom of the first time they met each other in what seemed like a lifetime alone. That decisive day in the park when her life forever changed, for better or for worse

"No…" The young fairy admitted quietly, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. She wasn’t okay, she hasn’t been okay in a long time…

"Do you want to talk about it?" Stella asked her gently, and Bloom shook her head. The princess of Solaria nodded; she understood that some things were better being left unsaid

"…Can I give you a hug?" She then asked, and this time, the redheaded fairy nodded silently in between sobs. A hug sounded great right now…

Stella proceeded to give her a big bear hug, her embrace as warm as Solaria’s two suns. Bloom hugged her back, and even though she always run warm as the Dragon Flame inside of her, her tears felt very very cold against her cheeks

The redhead sobbed and sobbed away, wishing that the nightmares would just go away and leave her alone

All the while, Stella tried to maintain herself as a pillar of strength for the sake of her friend, but even she found herself crying alongside her, as she also wished that the nightmares would just disappear

Neither fairy rested easy that night, and when they woke up the next morning, their eyes were red, puffy, and they had tear tracks on their faces that they expertly hid away

It wasn’t the first time that they did this

But they were grateful for having each other throughout the night; their combined warmth making their otherwise miserable sleep at least somewhat bearable

They didn’t knew what they would’ve done without each other. Sometimes, Stella regretted having ever met Bloom, because if their fateful meeting had never happened, then her best friend wouldn’t had to suffer through all of this

But Bloom didn’t regretted a thing. Despite her decaying mental health that she kept close to her chest the way a dragon guarded its hoard, she wouldn’t had changed meeting the Solarian princess for the world

Because thanks to that, she met the most incredible group of people she has ever known. And she knew Stella felt the same

Bloom loved the rest of the Winx and the Specialists with all her Dragon Flame heart, seeing them all individually as her precious treasures and vowing to protect them all

And the Winx and the Specialists were Stella’s sun and moon, both equally important and equally beautiful in her eyes

Flaws and everything, they had each other’s backs. And nothing could ever change that, not even their hurt selves 

Chapter Text

Sky sighed as he removed the crown from his head

He hated wearing that damn thing. It felt as though it could crush his head any moment with how unbelievably heavy it was

All the more reason why he wasn’t ready to lead

He really should get a lighter crown

"You didn’t had to do that…" Came Bradon’s soft voice from behind him. After another stressful day being the king of an entire kingdom, dealing with snotty Ministers who narrowed their eyes at his choice of friends, they had retreated to Sky’s room

The only place they could have any privacy in this castle which was like a hive of gossip grabbers, but more importantly, the only place where they could be themselves without pretending that the barrier of their individual titles separates them in order to appease everyone else, especially former king Erendor

"Whatever do you mean?" Sky asked Brandon, as he began removing the stuffy royal attire

Finally, he felt like he was choking

"Earlier today, at the meeting, when Minister Ulric chastised me from speaking out of turn…" Brandon elaborated, glancing away "You didn’t had to come to my defense"

"I’m here to defend you, not the other way around" He added firmly

Besides, it’s not like Brandon wasn’t used to it. He has come to terms that, in the eyes of Eraklyon and all its nobles, he’ll never be nothing more than Sky’s squire

His obedient shadow who was always by his side but never to be acknowledged; just a silent presence that ensured his safety

But considering how Sky was more than capable of taking care of himself much like every other Eraklyon royal, that position sounded redundant

That made Brandon’s position and his very existence a commodity; just a pretty little thing to keep up tradition

It hurt. Growing up in the castle, following Sky around as they played with their wooden swords together, he could hear everyone watching them and speaking behind their backs, it had hurt

But Brandon grew used it. He learned how to tune out the harsh criticizing of nobles and the gawking mockery of the servants like if it was just blind static

Most importantly, he learned to ignore the disapproving glares of King Erendor when he was getting a little too close to Sky

"You’re my brother. Of course I’ll always stand up for you, Brandon" Sky told him firmly but also kindly, placing his hands on the other Specialist’s shoulders and squeezing them reassuringly with a grin

"The only one who gets to bother you is us" The king said softly, cupping his squire’s cheeks gently and placed their foreheads together fondly

Brandon blushed slightly at the concept of us. He had a pretty good idea of who Sky was referring to. He lifted his hands to squeeze Sky’s hands cupping his cheeks in an equally fond manner

"Us?" The brunette asked, his voice as soft as a whisper

"Yeah, us…" Sky murmured, with a little crooked grin, yet it was more genuine than the big, polite smiles which he always used to address his father and the people around him

"Me, you, Bloom, Stella, the boys and the rest of the Winx…" The young king listed with a whisper "Us"

"We take care of each other and have each other’s backs" Sky finished firmly, closing his eyes "And nothing will ever change that…"

He actually looked quite peaceful, Brandon thought. Whenever his stunning blue eyes which shined like sapphires and his namesake were closed, it was as if the weight of the crown left him for a brief moment

How Brandon wished that his brother friend could always stay like that…

"Alright then…" Brandon whispered, also closing his eyes

The two stayed like that for a while, wanting to savor this brief moment of relief before they’re inevitably thrusted back into the world of fake smiles, cruel whispers, suffocating clothes and world-crushing crowns

When they were children, the only thing they had that kept each other sane was their friendship

Brandon was the first ever person that saw Sky past his crown and managed to see the heavy dark bangs underneath his eyes expertly hidden behind thick layers of makeup, and Sky was the only person that saw Brandon as more than an object that constantly had to hold his tongue and walk on eggshells around

They were more than friends or even brothers; they were survivors. They were more of a family to each other than their actual families

But now, their circle of trust has expanded beyond just them

The Specialist were Sky’s responsibility as much as Eraklyon was. He cared deeply for them and if one if them were to fall in battle, he was certain that it would crush him completely

That also extended to the Winx. He didn’t had the best introduction to fairies or even women in general growing up when Diaspro was handpicked to be his bride, but when he met the Alfea fairies, he immediately fell in love with how kind and gentle they were, not to mention their bravery and loyalty towards each other

The same thing applied to Brandon. The Specialists and the Winx were his team. No, more than that, they were his family

The only ones who saw him more than a squire; they saw their friend-teammate-brother-treasure-boyfriend-MINE

After having spent his childhood being ignored, they were the first ones that saw him. Actually saw him, and acknowledged him

And for that, Brandon is willing to die in order to protect them

Not because he is expected to do so, but because he wants to

"Us…" Brandon whispered, his forehead still fondly against Sky’s and his warm chocolate eyes closed, a tiny grin on his handsome features

"Us" The king repeated in turn, his face peaceful and his voice kind and softer than the paper-light wings of their fairy friends

Sky then left a fond kiss on Brandon’s nose, causing him to chuckle

"I love you, brother…" They both whispered at the same time, foreheads pressed together and eyes shining with fondness towards each other

Chapter Text

Linphea was regarded as the yin to Andros’ yang. If Andros was a world of restless tides and infinite seas, then Linphea was a living forest draped over a whole planet. Endless greenery stretched across its surface, trees so tall they brushed the clouds, vines that bloomed without end.

But even Linphea made space for water. Its lakes sparkled like gems hidden among the roots, so clear that they mirrored the sky without distortion.

Aisha skimmed across one such lake now, riding a surfboard shaped from her Morphix. She carved the surface with practiced ease, laughing when the water sprayed her cheeks. The waves weren’t powerful like Andros’—they didn’t roar or crash—but they whispered, steady and clean.

When she reached the shore, she dissolved the Morphix board in a swirl of bubbles and padded barefoot across the sand to where Flora sat beneath the shade of a willow-like tree.

“How was it?” Flora asked, her soft smile bright as sunlight.

“Good,” Aisha answered, shaking water from her curls. “Not the same kind of challenge as back home, but…” She looked back at the lake, at the crystalline surface reflecting the canopy above. “This has to be the clearest water I’ve ever seen.”

Flora giggled, her hand brushing along the grass. “I’m glad.”

Aisha hesitated, lowering her gaze. “You know… I would’ve liked to swim in a lake like this as a kid. With… someone.” Her voice trailed off, caught between wistfulness and something heavier.

Silence lingered. Too long, too deep. Flora’s smile dimmed slightly as she remembered—Aisha confessing once that darkness terrified her, not because of monsters, but because it sounded and felt like her loneliness as a child. Even now, she had improved, had grown, but Flora’s heart could sense the weight that silence pressed onto her.

Flora refused to let it stay. She curled her fingers into the sand, scooped a small handful, and tossed it lightly at Aisha’s arm.

Aisha gasped, mock outrage flashing across her face. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that!”

Flora squeaked and scrambled to her feet, running down the shore as her laughter bubbled free. Aisha chased after her, her steps splashing against the lake’s edge, both girls dissolving into giggles that echoed against the trees. For a moment, the loneliness was gone, replaced by sunlight, water, and the kind of laughter Aisha once thought she’d never have.

Chapter Text

Riven and Helia couldn’t have been more different.

Riven was all sharp edges—impulsive, competitive, quick to anger—while Helia moved like water, calm and deliberate, his words soft but never weak. And yet, somehow, they fit into each other’s silences.

That morning at Red Fountain, their dorm was still cloaked in the hush before classes. Sunlight spilled across the floorboards, golden and drowsy. Helia sat cross-legged on his bed with his sketchbook balanced on his knees, pencil gliding over paper in quiet arcs.

Behind him, Riven grumbled under his breath as he worked a brush through Helia’s long hair. His complaints were half-hearted, the kind of muttering that sounded like irritation but carried no bite. His hand was steady, the strokes measured and almost tender, though he’d never admit it.

The bristles whispered through Helia’s hair, catching occasionally, and Riven always paused—just long enough to ease out the knot instead of yanking. Helia couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped him, hidden behind the scratch of his pencil.

When Riven finally set the brush aside, Helia glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He noticed how Riven lingered, carefully aligning the brush on the nightstand before reaching for the hair tie. He adjusted it once, twice, until it sat just right.

Helia’s smile dimmed into something gentler. That tiny ritual, the way Riven needed things placed just so—it was something he never told anyone outside their tight circle of friends. Helia had only ever noticed through moments like this. He suspected it was tied to something deeper, to wounds that stretched back to a childhood marked by absence. Riven never spoke of his mother, the one who had left him behind.

Helia didn’t ask. He knew what silence about family felt like.

He thought of his own—parents he had never known, a childhood shaped instead by his grandfather, Headmaster Saladin. Helia was grateful, of course; his grandfather had given him everything. And yet… beneath that gratitude sat a small weight. He knew Saladin had always dreamed his grandson would follow in his footsteps, become a sorcerer, carry on a legacy of magic. Helia had chosen another path, one of ink and blades and art. A disappointment, even if never spoken aloud.

The hair tie slipped into place, snug at the nape of his neck. Riven’s fingers lingered for a heartbeat before retreating.

“Done,” Riven muttered, as though he’d been forced into it.

“Thank you,” Helia said softly, pencil stilling on paper.

Riven snorted. “Don’t make it weird.” But his voice lacked its usual bite.

Helia let the silence stretch again, this time warm. He bent back over his sketch, a faint smile playing at his lips. Behind him, Riven leaned against the bedframe, arms crossed, pretending he hadn’t just revealed another piece of himself.

They were opposites, yes. But in the quiet mornings like this—Riven’s careful touch meeting Helia’s steady calm—they found a balance neither had with anyone else.

Chapter Text

Musa sat cross-legged on the carpet, guitar balanced comfortably in her lap, her fingers moving with easy familiarity across the strings. Notes floated into the room—warm, clear, and alive.

Tecna sat beside her, back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap as though she were analyzing a data set instead of listening to a song. But her head began to bob lightly to the rhythm despite herself, and the corner of her mouth curved into the faintest smile.

Musa caught it, of course. She always did.

As the melody swirled, Tecna felt a quiet tug inside her chest. Musa could spin feelings into sound so effortlessly, weaving a thread that tugged at people’s hearts. Tecna admired it. Envied it, even. For her, communication always seemed tangled—words too blunt, logic too rigid. Her intellect, the thing that defined her, often felt like a wall instead of a bridge.

Musa’s eyes flicked toward her, and Tecna quickly dropped her gaze, schooling her features back into neutrality. But Musa had already noticed the flicker of unease.

Without missing a beat, Musa shifted her rhythm. The song slowed, dipping into something softer, sadder. A wistful tune, the kind of sound that carried loneliness in its echo.

“Is this how you feel sometimes?” Musa asked, her voice threading through the notes.

Tecna blinked, caught off guard. “I… suppose that’s an accurate approximation,” she admitted quietly.

“I think a girl like you should feel more like this,” Musa said, smiling over her guitar.

Musa’s fingers danced again, reshaping the song. This time the chords lifted into something gentler, more buoyant—still calm, but warmer, like sunlight breaking through a cloud. The kind of rhythm that felt like steady companionship rather than solitude.

The earnestness in her tone, combined with the playful bounce of the music, pulled a chuckle out of Tecna before she could stop it.

It startled her, the way laughter felt like a sudden glitch in her system—but in the best way.

Musa grinned, strumming a little flourish to mark her success. “See? Way better.”

Tecna shook her head, still smiling faintly. “You… have an illogical way of communicating, Musa.”

“Maybe,” Musa said, winking. “But you get it.”

And Tecna did. She couldn’t explain it in formulas or equations, but she understood it all the same.

Chapter Text

Timmy leaned over the table, frowning at the half-assembled phanto-blade in Nabu’s hands. “No, no, you’ve got the stabilizer backward.” He reached across, gently but firmly rotating the piece until it clicked into place. “Like this. Otherwise, it won’t channel properly.”

Nabu raised a brow, his lips tugging into a smirk. “And remind me again why I even need to do this? I’m a sorcerer. I have my staff.”

Timmy didn’t flinch. He adjusted his glasses, his tone steady but earnest. “Because you can’t always rely on magic. What if something unexpected happens? What if your staff is gone, or you’re drained, or the spell backfires? You might not be a Specialist, but you’re still part of the team. And I…” He hesitated, then added more quietly, “I want to make sure you’ll be safe.”

The words caught Nabu off guard. His hands stilled, resting on the table, eyes flicking to Timmy’s with genuine surprise.

Safe.

It was such a simple thing, and yet it clutched at his heartstrings in a way few words ever had.

Both his parents were powerful sorcerers—so powerful their names carried weight in the same halls as Andros’ royals.

He had grown up under their gaze, every lesson strict, every mistake punished with icy disappointment.

To them, he was never just Nabu, the boy. He was Nabu, the legacy. The proof of their bloodline’s strength. His engagement to Aisha had only been further evidence of the life they expected him to fulfill.

All his life, he had believed magic was his worth. His power was his armor, his identity, the thing that allowed him to exist in his parents’ eyes at all. If he faltered, he feared he would become nothing.

But here was Timmy—Timmy, the boy who fixed machines and saw the world in blueprints instead of battle spells—teaching him to assemble a weapon he was clumsy with, patient in the face of Nabu’s fumbling, and encouraging him to step beyond the mold that had been carved into him since childhood.

It wasn’t about magic. It wasn’t about power. It was about him.

Nabu exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching into something softer than his usual confident smirk.

“I’m terrible at this, you know,” he admitted, adjusting the blade with stiff fingers.

Timmy chuckled, nudging a component closer to him. “Yeah, you really are. But that’s fine. You’ll get better.”

The casual assurance, the lack of judgment—it loosened something tight in Nabu’s chest. For once, failure didn’t mean shame. It meant learning.

And maybe, for the first time, being seen for more than just what his magic could do.

Chapter Text

One rare peaceful evening, the palace quiet except for the soft hum of lanterns and the distant murmur of the gardens, Stella and Brandon lounged on her couch, nestled close together. Stella rested her head on his shoulder, their fingers intertwined, as a gentle warmth spread between them.

Brandon had been content in the silence, enjoying the rare respite from their duties. That was, until Stella shifted slightly, looking up at him with a mischievous sparkle in her amber eyes.

“Brandon,” she began softly, “how do you want our wedding to be?”

Brandon froze mid-sigh, his face turning an immediate shade of crimson. “Uh… isn’t that a little… soon?” he stammered, averting his gaze.

Stella giggled, the sound like chimes in the quiet room. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she admitted, “but I’ve actually been thinking about the theme now.”

Brandon’s curiosity peeked through his embarrassment. “Theme?” he echoed, trying—and failing—to hide the soft smile tugging at his lips.

Stella nodded eagerly. “Bloom told me about something called Oktoberfest. It’s an Earth festival, celebrated in a place called Germany.” She leaned back slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she animatedly recounted the story. “Long ago, a king and queen got married there, and they were so happy that they made their wedding a public event. Everyone—from the highest nobles to the lowest peasants—was invited to their castle grounds. For three days and three nights, the entire kingdom celebrated together in joy.”

Brandon listened, captivated not just by the tale but by the way Stella’s eyes lit up as she spoke, the warmth of her dream spilling into the room.

“That’s the kind of wedding I want,” Stella continued, her voice gentle but firm. “A celebration for everyone in Solaria. A day filled with laughter, music, and dancing. A day when the whole kingdom can feel the joy of love, just as the king and queen felt so long ago.”

Brandon’s heart swelled. He drew her closer into a warm embrace, resting his chin atop her head. “That,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion, “is truly a beautiful wedding. I can’t imagine celebrating it with anyone but you.”

Stella pressed her cheek to his, smiling softly. “And I can’t imagine celebrating it with anyone but you either,” she murmured.

They stayed like that for a long while, basking in the rare tranquility of their shared space. Lantern light flickered across the room, casting a golden glow over them as they imagined a future filled with laughter, joy, and the kind of love that could make an entire kingdom smile.

Chapter Text

Bloom and Sky sat cross-legged on the library floor, books scattered around them like a miniature fortress of knowledge.

Bloom’s eyes sparkled as she flipped through her Alfea history books, devouring every page with a fervor only matched by her lifelong fascination with fairies. Even after discovering that fairies were real—and that she herself was one—her childhood love for the magical world had only grown stronger.

She scribbled notes enthusiastically, occasionally humming under her breath at the thought of heroic fairy deeds and legendary alumni.

Sky, on the other hand, was far less enthusiastic. He leaned back against a stack of Red Fountain textbooks, his brows furrowed as he read passages about Specialists who had gone astray—those who betrayed their squads, let ambition or pride outweigh loyalty, or were crushed by their own arrogance. Each story was a stark reminder of the fine line between heroism and downfall, of what could happen when someone relied too much on their own strength.

After a while, Sky abruptly set his homework aside. Without a word, he crawled over to Bloom and gently laid his head in her lap. The sudden gesture made her blink in surprise, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“Sky… what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Sky didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the bookshelves above them, then at the scattered papers on the floor, as if searching for words that could make sense of his feelings.

Finally, he mumbled, voice tight: “I… I get it now. Why cockiness always has to be beaten out of a Specialist during training.”

Bloom’s fingers threaded gently through his golden hair, smoothing it absentmindedly as she looked down at him.

“I know what you mean,” she said softly. “I used to think all fairies were… good. But even fairies have their dark sides. Evil fairies, forbidden magic, betrayal, wars… history isn’t always kind.”

She gave a small, reassuring squeeze. “But what matters isn’t what they did back then. What matters is what we do now, in the here and now.”

Sky didn’t lift his head, but he felt the tension in his shoulders ease just slightly. He let a small grin tug at his lips, just enough that Bloom noticed and felt a quiet swell of affection.

They lingered like that for a while, surrounded by history books and half-finished essays, two heroes in training finding comfort in the presence of someone who understood both the weight of the past and the hope of the present.

Chapter Text

Some days, Musa was fine. She could laugh with her friends, lose herself in her music, and almost forget the hole that had been carved into her heart. Other days, though, the weight of losing her mother crushed her with unbearable force.

On one such day, when visiting her home of Melody, she found herself walking the familiar path up the small hill behind her house. At its crest stood her mother Wa-Nin’s grave, a modest stone surrounded by wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The air was quiet, heavy with the faint hum of distant wind chimes from the village below.

Musa knelt down and carefully placed a bouquet of fresh flowers at the base of the stone. She opened her mouth to speak—to say something, anything—but the words caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled as she brushed dirt from the stone’s inscription.

Then, without warning, she collapsed onto the grass. Her shoulders shook violently as sobs tore from her chest, raw and unrestrained.

Riven, who had followed her silently up the hill, dropped to his knees without hesitation. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him as though trying to shield her from the grief itself. His own throat ached, but not from tears—from the frustration of not knowing what to say.

“I…” He swallowed hard, pressing his cheek against her hair. “I wish I knew how you felt. I really do.”

Musa’s sobs hitched at that, and she shook her head furiously against his chest. “I’m glad you don’t,” she choked out. Her voice was muffled but filled with pain. “I wouldn’t wish this—this feeling— on anyone. You don’t… you don’t want to know what it’s like.”

Riven tightened his embrace, closing his eyes. He didn’t argue, didn’t try to fix it. He just held her, letting her grief pour out as much as it needed to. For once, his silence wasn’t cold or distant—it was steady, grounding.

The two of them stayed like that on the hill, the late afternoon sun dipping lower behind them. The world felt achingly quiet, save for Musa’s soft cries and the rustle of the grass. Riven’s arms never loosened, and Musa’s grief, though not lessened, felt just a little less unbearable with him there.

Chapter Text

Aisha stood behind Nabu, comb in hand, her brows knitted in concentration as she tried to tame his thick hair into his characteristic braids. She tugged one strand too tightly, and Nabu winced before smirking.

“You know you suck at this, right?” he teased, his tone light and infuriatingly amused.

Aisha’s eyes narrowed, and she jabbed the comb a little closer to his scalp in warning. “Say one more word and I’ll start pulling.”

Nabu snorted, shoulders shaking with laughter, but wisely held his tongue. The sound softened Aisha’s glare, though she tried to hide the little smile tugging at her lips.

For a moment, there was only the quiet rhythm of the comb through his hair, the gentle tug and weave of her fingers. Then, Aisha’s voice broke the silence, hesitant, quieter than usual.

“…Nabu, can I ask you something?”

He immediately stilled, picking up on the subtle shift in her tone. Turning his head slightly, he caught her expression in the mirror: guarded, troubled. “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

Aisha pressed her lips together, as if weighing the words on her tongue. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like everything’s moving too quickly. Like one day, I’ll wake up and already be sitting on the throne.” She let out a sharp breath and fumbled with another braid. “I do want to be queen of Andros, I really do. But—” her voice faltered, “just look at Sky. He hasn’t even graduated from Red Fountain, and Erendor already slammed the crown of Eraklyon onto his head. He didn’t even get a choice.”

Her hands stilled in his hair, the comb dangling between her fingers.

Nabu reached up and gently covered her hand with his own, grounding her. His warm eyes softened as he met her gaze in the mirror.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid of that,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But fear doesn’t mean you have to stop living. It doesn’t mean you should lose today while worrying about tomorrow.”

Aisha blinked, her lips parting, but no words came.

“Even if it does happen too early, you won’t be alone,” Nabu continued firmly. He squeezed her hand. “You’ll still have your friends. And you’ll always have me. No matter what crown you wear, you’ll still be Aisha.”

A faint smile broke across her face, wavering but genuine. “And you really think I’d make a good queen?”

“I don’t think,” Nabu said with certainty, turning in his chair to face her fully. “I know you’ll be an amazing queen. Not because of your title or your powers, but because of your heart.”

Aisha felt her chest tighten at his words, both comforting and terrifying in how much they meant to her. She blinked quickly and nudged him with the comb to hide the emotion prickling behind her eyes.

“You’re still getting braids whether you like it or not,” she muttered.

Nabu laughed, leaning back into her hands again, utterly at ease. “As long as you’re the one doing them, I don’t mind.”

Chapter Text

Tecna and Timmy knew their relationship was… unconventional. At least, in the eyes of their friends.

The other Winx and Specialists preferred their love loud and present—long embraces, hand-holding, kisses stolen in the middle of chaos. Tecna and Timmy were different. Tecna often processed her emotions through logic, breaking them down into neat equations. Timmy, brilliant as he was with machines, grew flustered and shy when it came to matters of the heart.

But together, they had found their own rhythm. At first, it was technology that bridged the gap: encrypted messages coded only for each other, late-night hologram chats that stretched for hours, gadgets traded like gifts that meant more than flowers ever could. Circuits and algorithms became their love letters.

Over time, though, they found themselves reaching beyond the crutch of their devices. It wasn’t easy. Tecna sometimes froze when the right words refused to come, and Timmy would trip over sentences, his face turning red. But little by little, the silences between them grew warmer instead of colder. A brush of fingers when passing a datapad. A small smile when their eyes met over a blueprint. The quiet acknowledgment that what they felt didn’t need to be loud to be real.

Tecna still remembered vividly the day the Winx told her what Timmy had done while she was gone—when everyone thought she was dead. How he had thrown himself into building a device to find her, even when logic said it was impossible. How the device only succeeded when Timmy, worn down and desperate, poured out everything he loved about her aloud.

The thought made her chest tighten. For someone who struggled so much with words, Timmy’s feelings had been strong enough to bend the boundaries of technology itself.

Yes, their love was unconventional. They weren’t the couple who needed constant displays or grand gestures. But in the quiet space between algorithms and heartbeats, in the way they fit so neatly into each other’s silences, Tecna and Timmy knew—without doubt—that they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Flora and Helia sat side by side on the balcony of Alfea’s gardens, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the flowers below. Between them was a small stack of bio-friendly paper, each sheet tinted with soft, pastel colors. Their hands moved slowly and carefully, folding edges, tucking corners—transforming flat shapes into delicate cranes, lilies, and butterflies.

It was a simple activity, but one that had become theirs. A quiet ritual.

Helia’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “You know… making origami helps me think. The repetition, the precision. It calms me.”

Flora smiled, nodding as she creased a fold with practiced care. “I can see that. I feel the same. It’s simple, but it gives me space to breathe.”

She hesitated, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “I’m still surprised sometimes that you chose to become a Specialist. You’re as much of a pacifist as I am.”

Helia gave a soft chuckle, his eyes focused on the paper crane slowly forming in his hands. “It wasn’t that simple. Or that straightforward.”

He set the finished crane gently on the table, its wings catching the breeze, before lifting his hand and flexing his fingers as though remembering the weight of his weapon.

“The first time I used my laser string gloves, I cut my face.” He touched a faint scar on his cheek, his smile rueful. “They’re meant for restraint, but in truth… they hold more power than anyone realizes. More power than I realized.”

Flora stilled, her half-folded butterfly in her hands. She looked at him, her expression soft and thoughtful. Helia turned his gaze back to her, his smile shifting into something more certain.

“It reminded me of myself. People see me as quiet, reserved, peaceful. And that’s true. But there’s more beneath the surface.” He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over her hand where it rested on the table. “Just like you. Everyone sees you as the lovely, gentle fairy of nature. And you are. But when you decide to fight—when you get serious—there’s nothing that can stop you.”

Flora felt warmth rise to her cheeks, her heart fluttering at the conviction in his tone. She ducked her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as if to hide her blush, but the smile that spread across her face was impossible to conceal.

They returned to their folding in comfortable silence, but every so often, their eyes would meet, and that unspoken truth lingered between them: that beneath their gentle exteriors, they carried a strength no one should underestimate.

Chapter Text

Not many people knew this, but Stella and Sky had grown up together. As the heirs to the kingdoms of Solaria and Eraklyon, it was in their parents’ best interest for the two children to get along. And they did—better than anyone could have expected.

From the moment they first met, Stella and Sky were inseparable. They played hide-and-seek in castle gardens, snuck extra desserts from the kitchens, and staged grand battles with wooden swords that left their tutors sighing in exasperation. They even went so far as to call themselves twins, laughing as they compared their bright golden hair in the mirror.

Their bond was so natural that many assumed it would eventually turn into something more. Whispers about a possible engagement floated around both courts. Truthfully, Stella didn’t think much of it—her imagination was already occupied with dreams of future gowns and adventures. But Sky understood the weight of those whispers, even as a boy.

If things had been different, their parents probably would have arranged such a marriage. But Diaspro’s family had beaten them to it, securing Sky’s engagement with their daughter. Sky remembered the first time he was told, the sinking weight in his chest, and the way Stella had wrinkled her nose when he confided in her later.

“She’s so stuck-up,” Stella had huffed, crossing her arms. “You deserve someone fun, Sky. Someone kind.”

Sky had laughed at that, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “If it had to be anyone, I’d rather it be you, Stella.”

The truth was, Sky could never love Stella as anything more than a sister. Their bond was too rooted in shared childhood, in scraped knees and whispered secrets, in the comfort of knowing someone saw him as Sky the boy and not Sky the crown prince. But if the choice had been his, he would have chosen Stella over Diaspro without hesitation.

Because Stella, for all her flaws, was never cruel. She was warm, bright, and kind-hearted—everything Diaspro wasn’t. And though their lives had taken different paths, that bond from childhood remained, a quiet thread of loyalty and affection beneath the weight of their royal duties.

Chapter Text

In her latest visit to Earth, Bloom found herself back in her adoptive mother Vanessa’s flower shop. The familiar smell of roses, lilies, and fresh soil wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She was carefully arranging a vase of tulips when a grumble sounded from the back of the shop.

“Remind me again,” Riven muttered, his voice thick with irritation, “why am I even here?”

Bloom didn’t look up from her flowers. “Because you’re the one who wanted to come here, remember?”

Riven scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes as he continued unpacking crates of potted violets. Still, he didn’t leave. They fell into a comfortable—if unusual—silence, Bloom humming quietly as she worked, Riven methodically trimming stems with more care than he’d probably admit.

Then, out of nowhere, Bloom said, “You know… I actually used to have a crush on you.”

Riven nearly choked on nothing but air, whipping his head toward her. “I—what?!”

Bloom waved her hand, dismissive, as though she had just mentioned the weather. “Relax. It was very short-lived.”

Riven’s eyes narrowed. “When?”

“Back in my first days at Alfea,” Bloom explained, her voice softer now. “When I had just discovered I was a fairy, and everything about the Magic Dimension felt so… overwhelming. Back then, you were kind of a novelty to me. I grew up surrounded by the polite, modest boys of Gardenia. And then there was you—closed off, brooding, like you didn’t care about anything. I guess I was just a little starstruck by it.”

Riven blinked at her, dumbfounded. “Starstruck? By me?”

Bloom chuckled. “For about five minutes. Until I realized you were mean-spirited and arrogant to just about everyone. That killed the crush pretty fast.”

Riven’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the shears in his hand. He frowned, his voice low and raw. “…Yeah. I was a massive jerk back then.”

Bloom finally looked at him, her expression softening. “You were. But you’ve changed.”

He shook his head, almost like he didn’t believe her. But Bloom stepped closer, brushing dirt from her palms as she spoke. “I see people’s auras, Riven—their true nature. And that gift is even stronger here on Earth. When I look at you now, I don’t just see who you used to be. I see someone who’s regretful of the past but equally determined to be better. That matters more than anything else.”

For a long moment, Riven said nothing. He just stared at her, almost uncomfortable under the weight of her sincerity. Finally, he muttered, “…You always have to make things so sentimental, don’t you?”

Bloom smirked, turning back to her flowers. “Only when I’m right.”

Chapter Text

Musa tugged at Timmy’s sleeve with no room for protest, pulling him out of his dorm and away from the glowing screens and half-finished schematics of his latest gadget upgrade.

“Come on, genius, you need your necessary sunlight time,” she declared, marching him down the corridor before he could even grab his spare tools. She was already chattering about some sleek new headphones she wanted to buy, the kind that promised “perfect sound quality,” though Timmy suspected she’d end up tinkering with them anyway.

Timmy groaned under his breath, his mind still half-stuck in circuits and blueprints. But as Musa’s words spilled out in an endless, energetic stream, he couldn’t help remembering how it all began.

Freshman year: Musa had been the loud, brilliant, tomboyish extrovert who treated the world like it was already her stage. And then there was him—awkward, shy, and forever swallowed by the glow of his gadgets. Somehow, she’d decided to adopt him. He never asked for it, but Musa had this way of breaking through walls he didn’t even know he’d built.

Timmy let himself be dragged along now, shaking his head as if resigned, but a small smile tugged at his lips. Sure, she stole him from his projects and interrupted his precious workflow. But she also reminded him there was a world outside his code, one filled with sunlight, laughter, and music. And deep down, Timmy couldn’t deny he appreciated her for that—maybe more than she’d ever know.

Chapter Text

One afternoon, Aisha and Helia were sprawled out on the grass just outside Alfea’s gardens, enjoying a rare moment of peace between missions. Aisha stretched her arms behind her head, eyes following the drifting clouds above.

“You know,” she said suddenly, “I just thought of something kind of random.”

Helia glanced at her with his usual calm curiosity. “I’m listening.”

“Bloom was telling me once about how some of our names resemble a lot this ancient language of Earth—Ancient Greek, I think she called it.” Aisha tapped her chin, recalling the conversation. “Apparently, my name means ‘life.’”

“That suits you perfectly,” Helia said without hesitation. “You’re full of it—energy, motion, strength. You make everything feel alive.”

The unexpected sincerity in his tone made Aisha blink, and for a moment she didn’t know how to respond. So instead she shot back, “Well, your name comes from Helios. That’s like, the sun.”

Helia smirked, leaning back on his elbows, his long hair catching the light. “Guess that explains my brilliant personality.”

The delivery was so dry with his usual soft-spoken voice that Aisha let out a completely ungraceful, ugly-snort of laughter. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in mock horror.

Helia chuckled softly, watching her try and fail to keep her composure. “I’ll take that as the highest compliment,” he teased.

Still laughing, Aisha swatted his arm. “Don’t get used to it, sun-boy.”

But the warmth in her grin lingered, brighter than any sunlight.

Chapter Text

Flora and Nabu found themselves walking together through one of the Magix’s gardens, their conversation flowing as naturally as the fountains around them. It surprised them both how easy it was to talk—how much they understood each other without needing to explain too much.

“You know,” Nabu mused with a thoughtful grin, “I think we might have more in common than either of us realized.”

Flora tilted her head. “How so?”

“Well,” Nabu said, adjusting his sleeves with mock dignity, “we’re both the so-called ‘mature’ ones of our teams. The ones who try to keep everyone else in line when things get… dramatic.”

Flora giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. “I suppose you’re right. I do end up feeling like a parent half the time. Making sure everyone eats, sleeps, doesn’t set the dorm on fire…”

“And I,” Nabu continued, pretending to sigh heavily, “get the honor of lecturing my friends when they leap into danger without thinking. Which is… all the time.”

They shared a knowing look, a kind of warm, wordless acknowledgment that came from being natural caretakers.

“You’re also really empathetic,” Flora added after a moment. “You always seem to know what people need before they even say it.”

Nabu raised an eyebrow, amused. “Coming from you, that’s a compliment I’ll treasure. But tell me, Flora—ever thought about becoming a sorceress instead of a fairy? You’ve got the patience and wisdom for it.”

Flora blinked, then smiled sweetly, shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

Her answer was so firm yet so gentle that Nabu burst out laughing, the sound echoing across the garden.

“Fair enough,” he said, still chuckling. “I guess it wouldn’t suit you—you’re too full of light. Magic like mine tends to get… complicated.”

Flora reached out, brushing a petal off his shoulder. “And besides,” she said warmly, “I wouldn’t trade who I am for anything.”

Nabu gave her a long, admiring look. “Yeah. That sounds exactly like you.”

Chapter Text

The metallic clang of Brandon’s phantoblade echoed across the Red Fountain training room. Each strike met the shimmer of Tecna’s digital shield, flashes of neon-blue light illuminating the space like tiny lightning bolts. Brandon swung again, testing its strength from a different angle, but the barrier held—solid, unyielding, and precise.

Finally, after one last strike, he stepped back, panting, and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Whew… alright, I give up. That thing’s tougher than it looks.”

Tecna deactivated the shield with a tap on her wristband. The light faded into nothing, leaving a faint digital hum in the air.

“The test yielded sufficient data,” she said, adjusting her visor and typing something on her portable pad. “The shield’s energy output can withstand multiple high-impact strikes without destabilizing. That should suffice in case of any… unexpected incidents.”

Brandon’s grin faltered. He knew what “unexpected” meant. He remembered the way everyone thought she was gone—that she’d fallen, sacrificed herself. But Tecna hadn’t died; she’d been trapped in the Omega Dimension, alone in that frozen wasteland for who knew how long. Brandon didn’t know what that kind of isolation felt like, but he could see it in her eyes sometimes—the way she worked a little too hard, built a little too much.

He sheathed his blade, trying to keep his tone light. “You know, when I got dragged into that whole Princess Amentia thing, I thought I’d never see daylight again.”

Tecna blinked at him, confused. “I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

Brandon chuckled softly. “Guess I’m saying… I kinda get it. That feeling of being stuck somewhere you can’t escape, wondering if you’ll ever get out.” His smile softened. “You survived worse than any of us ever could, Tecna. But it’s okay to take a break from building things to protect yourself, you know.”

For a moment, she just looked at him—expression unreadable, fingers still hovering over her tablet. Then, in her quiet, analytical way, she replied, “Noted.”

Brandon laughed. “Hey, if you ever wanna spar again, you know where to find me.” He turned toward the door before adding with a crooked grin, “And, uh… when you finish that shield, mind making me a copy? I could use something that good on the field.”

Tecna raised an eyebrow but didn’t hide the faintest curve of a smile. “We’ll see, Specialist.”

And though she didn’t say it, Brandon could tell—beneath the logic and data, that spar had helped her more than she’d ever admit.

Chapter Text

Stella was the Fairy of the Sun—radiant, dazzling, and proud of it. She carried that title like a crown, one she could actually bear without it slipping off or breaking in half. But the truth, the one she never quite said aloud, was that her full title was the Fairy of the Sun and the Moon.

The second half always felt like a ghost—beautiful, distant, and untouchable.

Her mother, Queen Luna, was a fairy of the moon, ruler of the moon tribes who lived in the shadowed regions of Solaria. For generations, the tribes and the sunborn Solarians had been locked in conflict—light against shadow, day against night. Luna’s marriage to King Radius had been a political symbol of peace, a promise that the old feud would finally end.

But like all promises born of politics, it didn’t last.

Now, years later, their divorce was etched into Solarian history as the day unity crumbled again. And Stella, the heir of both sun and moon, was left holding the burden of a harmony her parents couldn’t maintain.

She sat in Musa’s dorm, head buried in her hands, her usually exuberant aura dimmed.

“I just don’t get it,” she muttered. “The sun part of my magic comes easy—it’s bright, it’s loud, it’s me. But the moon? I can’t even feel it. Mom always said moon magic was tied to emotions, to… acceptance.” She made a frustrated sound, half groan, half sigh. “But whenever I start to feel too much, I just… shut it down. Crack a joke. Pretend it’s fine. I’ve been pretending my whole life.”

Musa listened quietly, her expression soft. Then she reached over and gave Stella’s back a gentle pat. “So it’s like trying to play two completely different instruments at the same time, huh?”

Stella peeked up from her hands, her mascara smudged but her eyes curious. “Yeah,” she said after a pause. Like trying to play the harp and the drums together. One needs patience, the other needs chaos.”

Musa smiled knowingly. “Then maybe the trick isn’t playing them at the same time. Maybe it’s learning when to let one take the lead—and trusting that the other will come in when it’s ready.”

Stella huffed a laugh, wiping her face. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Musa admitted. “But you don’t have to fake it, Stella. You can shine and reflect. That’s what the sun and moon do—they balance each other.”

Stella looked at her, eyes softening. “You know, you’re a lot wiser than people give you credit for.”

Musa grinned, bumping her shoulder lightly. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

And for the first time that day, Stella’s laugh sounded genuine—like sunlight finally breaking through a long eclipse.

Chapter Text

Riven remembered the first time he met Sky—back in their first year at Red Fountain, when the halls smelled like metal polish and ambition, and every student was trying to prove they were the best.

Back then, Riven had been all sharp edges and simmering anger, a storm looking for something to strike. He didn’t trust anyone, didn’t want to trust anyone. He kept to himself, trained alone, and made sure no one got close enough to see how much of that anger was just hurt in disguise.

So when their instructor, Codatorta, paired him with Sky of Eraklyon, the golden boy, the future king, the model student everyone admired, Riven almost laughed.

“Perfect,” he’d thought bitterly. “Stuck with royalty.”

He expected Sky to be every bit the pampered prince his title suggested—arrogant, sheltered, untested. Someone who’d never had to fight for anything. But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Sky wasn’t just good—he was disciplined. He led by example, not by ego. He pushed himself as hard as he pushed his squad. And when Riven lost his temper during training or ignored orders, Sky didn’t scold him—he challenged him.

“You think anger’s enough to win a fight?” Sky had said once after Riven nearly tore through a practice drone. “Try fighting for something other than proving you’re angry.”

Riven, of course, had told him to mind his own business. But Sky never did. He stayed there, stubborn and steady, refusing to give up on him.

And somewhere along the way—Riven couldn’t even pinpoint when exactly—it stopped being “the prince and the problem.” It became Sky and Riven. Teammates. Brothers-in-arms.

Now, years later, Riven would never admit it out loud—he’d rather swallow his own pride—but he was glad Sky was his squad leader. No, more than that. He was glad Sky was his friend.

Because even when Riven couldn’t see the best in himself, Sky somehow did. And though Riven would rather die than say it, he’d always have Sky’s back… just like Sky always had his.

Chapter Text

Bloom and Flora shared a special bond—and not just because both their names derived from flowers.

When Bloom first arrived at Alfea, everything felt like too much. The colors were brighter, the air felt charged with magic, and even the simplest things—like a floating lantern or a talking textbook—were daily reminders that she was far from Gardenia. It was thrilling, yes, but overwhelming all the same.

That’s when Flora became her quiet anchor.

As Bloom’s roommate, Flora was patient in a way that made the transition easier. She never judged Bloom’s endless questions or her clumsy attempts at using magic. When spells backfired, Flora was there with a gentle smile and a pot of salve she brewed herself, softly assuring her that even the strongest flowers take time to bloom.

Flora didn’t take up much space—unless you counted her plants, which climbed the window frames and hung from the ceiling like a living curtain. Bloom had to admit, waking up to the scent of jasmine and mint every morning was far better than the sterile quiet she’d known back in Gardenia.

She often thought about how different it might’ve been if she’d roomed with someone else. Tecna and Musa had their gadgets and instruments cluttering every inch of space, while Stella—though she had her own room—was often gone or too wrapped up in her own sparkle.

Sharing a room was something Bloom had never experienced before. She’d grown up an only child, used to her own rhythm, her own silence. But with Flora, it never felt like she was intruding or being intruded upon.

If she had to share her space, her routines, her life—she was glad it was with Flora.

Because Flora didn’t just make Alfea feel magical. She made it feel like home.

Chapter Text

Helia sat cross-legged on the floor, carefully folding a square of bio-friendly paper. “Now, Nabu,” he said, guiding the sorcerer’s hands, “the trick is in the creases. Press firmly, but don’t tear it. Precision is everything.”

Nabu’s brows furrowed as he concentrated, but a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the little paper crane lifted off the table and hovered in midair.

Helia chuckled, his usual calm warmth lighting up his face. “I see. So you’re already bending the rules.”

“Rules are… flexible,” Nabu replied with a snort, his lips twitching into a small smile.

Helia shook his head, still laughing softly. “Well, I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

Nabu smirked, folding another sheet with practiced ease. “We already are,” he said casually.

They both laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet training room.

It was nice. Quiet moments like these were rare for Helia. None of the other Specialists seemed to have the patience—or the inclination—for origami. Sky was always wrapped up in royal duties, Brandon’s attention flitted like a hummingbird from one thing to another, Riven would scowl and snap after two folds, and Timmy—though patient and dexterous from hours of gadget tinkering—would overanalyze every crease until the paper resembled an indecipherable puzzle.

But Nabu… Nabu had both the patience and the curiosity to match Helia’s, and perhaps even a touch of playful mischief that made every fold a little more fun.

Helia’s eyes softened as he watched Nabu’s careful movements. Maybe, he thought, this quiet camaraderie—simple, patient, and unassuming—was the kind of friendship that lasted.

And for once, Helia didn’t mind rules bending just a little.

Chapter Text

Aisha stretched her arms above her head, feeling the burn in her muscles from their morning training session. She glanced over at Tecna, who was methodically adjusting her digital shield, every movement precise, calculated, efficient.

“You know,” Aisha said, panting slightly, “I might be the sporty one around here, but you? You’re the real fighter.”

Tecna raised an eyebrow, almost amused. “Really? And what makes you say that?”

Aisha grinned, leaning back on her hands. “Your transformations, your shields, the way you always know where to strike or block… you’ve saved us more times than I can count. You don’t just rely on strength—you think, you plan, and you act. That’s real fighting.”

Tecna’s lips curved into a faint smile, a rare moment of softness.

“I suppose that’s true,” she admitted. “But you don’t give yourself enough credit. Athletic skill is just as important. A strong body helps a strong mind, after all.”

Aisha nodded, eyes sparkling. “Exactly. And that’s why I respect you, Tecna. You train your mind and your body, and you make sure they work together. It’s not about showing off or being the strongest—it’s about balance.”

“Balance…” She repeated. “A healthy mind, a healthy body. It seems we both understand its importance.”

They shared a brief, knowing glance—a bond they have formed quietly in the shared acknowledgment of each other’s strengths. It wasn’t flashy or loud, like some of their teammates, but it was meaningful.

Aisha leaned forward, bumping her shoulder lightly against Tecna’s. “Guess we’re good partners, huh? Not just in battle, but… in everything else too.”

Tecna allowed herself the smallest nod. “Agreed.”

And for the first time that morning, both of them felt the satisfaction of true understanding—two fighters, different in style, yet united in respect.