Chapter Text

The armored prep bay of Elysion Shatterdome hummed like a cathedral of metal and purpose. Hydraulic lifts whispered overhead, casting long, moving shadows across the polished floor. Prince Phillip and Princess Aurora strode side by side toward the suiting platforms, their footsteps ringing softly in the vast chamber.

The lights shifted to gold as the automated voice intoned:

“Rose Requiem pilot team, suit integration sequence beginning.”

Phillip stepped into his cradle first. Metallic petals unfolded, locking around his arms, torso, and legs with a smooth, polished click. His bodysuit—rose-gold filaments woven through sleek black armor mesh—tightened to his form, mapping every muscle for neural conduction.

Across from him, Aurora’s suit unfurled like moonlight given shape. Her opaline plates settled over her frame in elegant spirals, each piece glowing softly where it touched her skin. Sapphire tracer-lights rippled across her arms as the processors awakened.

Phillip glanced over at her and smiled. “Ready for our first dance with the Kaiju, Aurora?”

She returned the smile, eyes warm behind her visor. “Only if you promise not to step on my toes.”

The platforms lifted them toward Rose Requiem’s heart.

The pilot capsule opened like a blooming rose of steel. The interior glowed with faint dawn-gold and silver-blue lines, waiting for the touch of their minds.

Phillip and Aurora took their positions, locking their boots into the anchor slots. The Conn-Pod sealed behind them with a resonant thrum.

Then Phineas Flynn’s voice—bright, enthusiastic, unmistakable—crackled over the comms.

“Morning, team Rose Requiem! Looking sharp in those suits."

Phillip grinned. "Morning, Phineas! How's it going?"

Aurora smiled. "How'd your dinner date with Isabella go last night, Phineas?"

“Oh man,” Phineas replied, grinning through the audio. “Amazing. I tried cooking for her, right? And it actually turned out edible! Well… mostly edible. There might have been a tiny fire. Or two. But hey—Isabella said it added excitement!”

Phillip chuckled. “Sounds like a successful date to me.”

“Yeah! Plus, afterwards we went stargazing. Isabella fell asleep on my shoulder halfway through. Total win.”

Aurora’s voice softened. “That sounds lovely, Phineas. I’m glad you two had a good night.”

“Thanks! Okay, lovebirds—er, royal lovebirds—your Jaeger’s warmed up and ready for ignition. LOCCENT standing by.”

Phillip laughed under his breath. “We’ll take good care of her.”

“You’d better,” Phineas replied. “Ferb and I polished her plating 2 days ago!”

The lights dimmed.

The Drift conduits lit in two colors—sun-gold on Phillip’s side, moon-white on Aurora’s. The air thickened with humming resonance.

“Neural handshake initiating,” announced LOCCENT.

Phillip inhaled deeply, letting his heartbeat fall into rhythm.

Aurora matched him—breath for breath, pulse for pulse.

The world dissolved into a horizon of starlight and memory.
Phillip saw Aurora’s first smile at him.
Aurora saw Phillip standing unwavering with his sword drawn.
Two paths of destiny twined, luminous threads weaving into a single beam.

Lines of gold and silver collided—

And the Drift bloomed.

A radiant corona unfurled around them as luminal resonance ignited for the very first time. Their neural patterns aligned like melody and harmony joining into a single perfect chord.

Energy blossomed from their cores, flooding the Conn-Pod with shimmering light.

“Neural synchronization at optimal parameters,” LOCCENT confirmed. “Drift stable. Harmony sustained.”

Phillip opened his eyes—now ringed with faint golden light. Aurora opened hers—glowing with calm lunar blue.

They moved as one.

Phillip lifted his arm. Aurora mirrored him.

Together, they struck the floor with their heel anchors.

The entire Conn-Pod vibrated with power.

Phillip’s voice rang out first, steady and resolute:

“Solar Core A, calibrated.”

Then Aurora’s voice, serene and luminous:

“Lunar Core B, calibrated.”

They flexed, their bodies snapping into Rose Requiem’s opening stance—blades of light ready, eyes burning with the dawn and moon.

Outside, the alarms blared.

KAIJU SIGNATURE CONFIRMED. CATEGORY IV: MORVATH.

Phineas’ voice returned, less casual now but just as warm: “Go get ’em, Rose Requiem.”

The Conn-Pod shuddered as the clamps released. Massive doors slid open, revealing the dawn-lit expanse of Elysion Shatterdome’s launch platform. Rose Requiem strode forward, each step ringing through the metal superstructure like the heartbeat of a waking titan. Crimson and opaline reflections shimmered across its armor as the rising sun struck its rose-gold plating. Technicians scattered to the railings, some cheering, some standing in awed silence as the Jaeger’s six-story silhouette approached the edge of the deployment track, wings of dawn glinting faintly behind it.

Then the klaxons blared.

“Deploying Rose Requiem. Operation Dawn’s Edge, confirmed.”

The ground beneath the Jaeger split open. Hydraulic platforms locked it into firing position.

Phillip and Aurora braced, drifting as one—and the world dropped away.

A thunderous launch-kick hurled Rose Requiem down the maglev descent shaft, lights blurring past in streaks of gold and blue. The ocean rushed up to meet them, waves shattering outward in a crown of white as the Jaeger plunged beneath the surface.

Chapter Text

Far from the coastline, the ocean roared with unnatural fury.

A cargo vessel listed helplessly under a sky bruised with storm clouds, its crew shouting in panic as Morvath—a hulking, eel-backed Kaiju with four barbed limbs—rose from the depths like a living reef of talons and spines. Its hide glistened with sickly violet bioluminescence. Every movement churned the water into whirlpools.

With a guttural bellow, Morvath slammed a claw through the ship’s bow, twisting metal like paper. Sirens wailed as desperate distress calls crackled across the emergency bands.

“ALL SHIPS CLEAR THE AREA—CATEGORY IV KAIJU DETECTED—EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY!”

Morvath let out another piercing shriek, sweeping its massive tail across the waves and capsizing a smaller patrol boat in seconds.

The sea darkened further—because something vast was rising beneath it.

The water burst apart as Rose Requiem surged upward, its trident-shaped surf exploding around its frame. Dawn-gold light rippled along its armor, visible even beneath the storm’s gloom.

Inside the Conn-Pod, Phillip tightened his stance.

Aurora braced, her breathing steady but heart pounding.

Morvath turned.

Electricity crackled along its dorsal spikes as it locked eyes with the Jaeger.

Phillip’s voice came through hard and urgent:

“Get ready, Aurora! Get ready, this is for real!”

Aurora nodded, jaw set. “I’m with you.”

Rose Requiem launched forward, water shearing off its limbs as it closed the distance in moments. Phillip and Aurora’s synchronized movements drove the Jaeger’s fist into Morvath’s jaw, snapping its head sideways in a spray of seawater and bioluminescent ichor.

The Kaiju reeled, but then retaliated with a ferocious, screeching lunge.

Rose Requiem dodged the first strike, but the second claw raked across its chest plating.

Inside the Conn-Pod, the shock hit like a hammer. Phillip staggered, teeth gritted as pain flared across his ribs, the suit translating impact directly into his nervous system. Aurora gasped, clutching her side as her sensors flared red.

“Stabilizing!” she hissed.

“Stay with me!” Phillip shouted, blocking another swipe.

They surged forward again, unloading a flurry of punches. Each blow cracked Morvath’s outer hide, sending tremors through the water. The Kaiju shrieked, thrashing violently as Phillip twisted Rose Requiem’s torso and slammed its elbow into Morvath’s throat.

For a moment, they had the momentum.

The Kaiju plunged beneath the surface, disappearing.

“Where did it—?” Aurora began.

A dark shape shot upward like a torpedo as Morvath slammed into Rose Requiem from below.

The force lifted the hundred-meter titan off its feet and drove it back into the open ocean, water exploding around them as they fell.

The Conn-Pod jolted violently.

Phillip felt fire tear through his shoulder. Aurora cried out as pain flashed up her spine.

The warning indicators screamed:

IMPACT FEEDBACK: PILOT TRAUMA RISK HIGH

Morvath didn’t relent. It pounced again, claws digging into Rose Requiem’s torso armor, dragging the Jaeger downward into the depths while tearing jagged furrows through the rose-gold plating.

Phillip coughed sharply as the sensation tore across his chest. Aurora steadied them, voice strained:

“Phillip—holding defensive nodes—just—keep us upright!”

He forced Rose Requiem’s arms between them and the Kaiju, prying it loose with a desperate mechanical heave.

Morvath circled back, shrieking triumphantly.

“Alright, that's enough,” Aurora whispered fiercely, her eyes blazing blue.

Phillip nodded.

“Let’s end this.”

Their neural sync flared—gold and silver threads weaving tightly together. 

"Dawnbreaker Halberd, engage." 

The Jaeger’s right arm unfolded, panels sliding open—and the radiant halberd manifested into its grip, blazing with solar fire.

Morvath lunged again. Rose Requiem spun aside, the halberd trailing a crescent of gold light.

The blade carved across Morvath’s side, causing it to shriek loudly in agony.

It thrashed violently, dorsal spikes glowing with frantic energy as it launched a desperate counterattack.

Phillip and Aurora took the hit—the shock rattled the Conn-Pod, sending a sharp jolt of agony through both of them.

But they held their ground.

“Phillip,” Aurora breathed, voice steady despite the pain, “right now.”

They moved as one.

Rose Requiem drove forward, halberd blazing, every step rippling with luminant power. The Jaeger feinted left, danced right, then plunged the halberd deep into Morvath’s chest.

The Kaiju convulsed. Seawater exploded outward in a massive plume.

Phillip twisted the weapon. Aurora poured both solar-gold & moon-white energy into its core.

The Solar and Lunar cores surged—and the halberd ignited in a radiant shockwave.

Morvath split apart, dissolving into boiling water and drifting violet mist.

Silence followed, with only the distant crash of waves remaining.

Rose Requiem stood tall over the dissipating carcass—its armor cracked, its pilots bruised and gasping,but triumphant.

Phillip exhaled shakily. Aurora steadied herself, eyes softening.

He smiled through the strain.

“First victory.”

Aurora smiled back. “Together.”

The journey back to Elysion Shatterdome was slow and heavy, each step of Rose Requiem echoing in Phillip and Aurora’s bodies like rolling aftershocks.
The Conn-Pod lights dimmed to a soft, soothing glow as the neural feedback faded. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, both catching their breath, letting their trembling muscles relax inch by inch.

Finally, Aurora leaned against her anchor frame, one hand pressed lightly to her ribs.

“Everything… hurts,” she murmured.

Phillip gave a pained laugh, then winced as the motion made his shoulder flare. “You and me both.”

The pod clamps engaged with a magnetic thud. The canopy opened. A rush of cool air washed in, carrying the scent of steel, oil, and ocean spray.

Technicians were waiting—and barreling toward them at top speed was Phineas Flynn.

“Phillip! Aurora! You two okay?” Phineas called out, half-shouting, half-worried, already scanning the diagnostic feed on his tablet.

Phillip stepped forward, a little unsteady. “We’ve been better.”

Aurora followed behind, graceful even in exhaustion. Her face softened when she saw Phineas practically vibrating with concern.

“We’re alright, Phineas,” she reassured gently. “Just bruised.”

“Bruised? Bruised?!” Phineas sputtered, waving his hands. “You both took a Category IV to the face! Twice! At ninety meters underwater! That’s not a bruise—that’s… that’s a Phineas-sized explosion of pain!”

Aurora couldn’t help a small laugh. Phillip smiled despite the ache twisting at his ribs.

Phineas planted his hands on his hips. “You are going to the medical bay. Right now. Non-negotiable. Isabella would never forgive me if her favorite Jaeger team fell apart on day one.”

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Her favorite? Already?”

“She said you two were ‘adorable but probably reckless.’” Phineas shrugged. “Which, honestly, yeah.”

Minutes later, the two were seated on adjacent med-beds while scanners hovered over them, projecting diagnostic holograms.

Aurora sat quietly, letting the machine check her for microfractures. Phillip winced as a medic applied a cooling gel patch to his shoulder.

The room was peaceful—just soft beeps, humming monitors, and the faint echo of water dripping off Rose Requiem in the distant hangar.

Phillip tilted his head toward Aurora. “You did amazing.”

Aurora met his gaze, the pale-blue lights reflected softly in her eyes.

“So did you,” she replied. “Even when it hurt.”

“It always hurts,” Phillip said. “But… it was worth it.”

Aurora smiled, gentle and luminous. “It was. We protected people today.”

A warmth settled between them—quiet, shared, profound.

Phineas popped his head back in the doorway.

“Good news! LOCCENT confirms the Kaiju’s gone. Excellent news—Isabella baked victory cookies. Less excellent news—she entrusted me to transport them, sooooo… three may have broken.”

Aurora’s laughter echoed like soft bells. Phillip shook his head, grinning.

Phineas held up a bag triumphantly. “Still edible!”

The medics rolled their eyes but smiled.

Phillip accepted one of the cookies and glanced at Aurora.

“First battle tradition?” he suggested.

Aurora took a cookie too, raising it like a toast.

“To our first dawn.”

Phillip nodded.

“To many more.”

They clinked the cookies together gently—a tiny, warm gesture in the aftermath of titanic violence.

Outside, Rose Requiem stood silent in the hangar, water streaming off her rose-gold armor, glowing softly in the floodlights like a promise.

Chapter Text

Marseille’s coastline glittered under a pale, uneasy dawn. Fishermen’s boats drifted abandoned in the harbor. Evacuation sirens wailed from distant streets. And far beyond the surf, in the deep blue where the Mediterranean grew cold and ancient—

Two titanic shadows were rising.

LOCCENT screens flickered with seismic readings.

Category V signatures. Two of them. Approaching fast.

Inside Elysion Shatterdome, the atmosphere was electric—urgent yet strangely warm, buoyed by the presence of two veteran Jaeger teams who knew each other not as colleagues, but as friends.

Phillip and Aurora were halfway through fastening their armored bodysuits when the heavy doors slid open—and Prince August and Princess Cinderella stepped in.

August, taller and broad-shouldered, grinned. “Looks like Marseille wants to test our choreography today.”

Cinderella smirked lightly. “Two Kaiju for two royal couples. How poetic.”

Aurora’s face brightened instantly. “I’m so glad we’re deploying together again.”

Phillip clasped August’s forearm in a firm, brotherly gesture. “Been too long. How’s Silver Serenade holding up?”

August laughed. “Better than my ribs, which are still recovering from our last tango with that Category V in Vienna.”

Cinderella tapped her husband’s chestplate. “He’s exaggerating. He barely felt it.”

Aurora giggled. “We all say that after getting thrown across a port.”

Phillip shrugged with mock modesty. “Some of us fly more gracefully than others.”

August raised a brow. “Oh really? Because I remember someone yelling very dramatically when a Kaiju tail hit him in Naples.”

“That was a tactical vocalization.”

“Sounded like a battle-cry-duck-squawk.”

Aurora covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Cinderella didn’t bother hiding hers.

Warm, familiar energy flowed between the four of them—the kind of camaraderie only forged through shared danger and shared triumph.

As alarms triggered the official suiting sequence, the hall lights shifted to operational gold.

“Royal Jaeger teams,” came LOCCENT’s voice from the speakers, “report to Jaeger access gantries. Double Category V threat incoming.”

Phillip exhaled slowly. Aurora took his hand briefly.

August glanced at Cinderella. “You ready, love?”

She smiled—soft and radiant, with steel beneath.

“Always.”

As the four of them walked together down the elevated gantry, technicians rushed around them in organized chaos. 

Phineas Flynn and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro-Flynn jogged toward them, waving tablets. 

“Okay! Quick briefing! You’ll be launching simultaneously from north and south rails. Kaijus codenamed Tempestera and Gravemaw. Both huge, spiky, and extremely uninvited.”

Phillip smirked. “We’ll show them the door.”

Isabella beamed. "That's the spirit! We'll be watching from LOCCENT; remember to take care of yourselves." She turned to fix her eyes on August with a stern expression, though there was no mistaking the mirth in her eyes. "Especially you, August, because you’re the most likely to try something reckless and acrobatic."

August sighed. Cinderella patted his arm knowingly. “She’s not wrong.”

Aurora leaned closer to Cinderella as they walked.

“Between us… do you ever worry they’re going to see who can throw their Jaeger the farthest someday?”

Cinderella whispered conspiratorially, “I’m convinced they already made a secret bet about it.”

Phillip and August exchanged a look.

“You see what we have to put up with?” Phillip said dryly.

“Unbelievable,” August agreed.

“Sir,” Cinderella added sweetly, “you’re the one who once said ‘Let’s try punching him upward into the stratosphere.’”

“That was a brilliant idea.”

“You fractured five internal gyros.”

“Still brilliant.”

Aurora laughed openly as they reached the split where Rose Requiem and Silver Serenade waited in their respective docks.

“See you both in the Drift,” Aurora said warmly.

Cinderella nodded with gentle confidence. “Together. Royal Initiative.”

Phillip and August bumped fists one last time before turning toward their Jaegers.

Minutes later, both Conn-Pods sealed shut.

Rose Requiem glowed with dawn-gold resonance.
Silver Serenade shimmered with crystalline blue.

As the neural handshake sequences began, both couples opened a private shared comms channel.

Cinderella's voice came through first: “Aurora, you two go for Tempestera on the northern end. We’ll handle Gravemaw.”

“Understood. Be careful.”

“We’re always careful.” came August's voice. 

“He says, moments before being thrown through a building.” Phillip's grinning voice responded. 

“Okay, THAT was one time.”

“It was three times, darling.” Cinderella said. 

Aurora laughed softly. “We’ll keep count today.”

Phillip and Aurora’s luminal resonance flared—sun-gold and moon-silver light intertwining.

August and Cinderella’s harmonic timing shimmered like a mirrored starburst.

LOCCENT announced:

“Neural synchronization confirmed.
Rose Requiem: online.
Silver Serenade: online.
Royal Jaeger tandem response: cleared for deployment.”

Phillip’s voice rang steady. “Solar Core A, calibrated.”

Aurora’s voice followed, calm and powerful. “Lunar Core B, calibrated.”

And over their shared channel—

August: “Silver Core synchronized.”

Cinderella: “Crystal Matrix stable.”

Phillip smiled.

“Ready, friends?”

August grinned. “Let’s show Marseille how royalty handles a double coronation.”

Chapter Text

Marseille lay beneath a bruised sky, its coastline swallowed by thunder, spray, and the distant roars of rising monsters.

And then—two colossi emerged from the deep.

Tempestera broke the surface first, a serpentine titan wrapped in crackling storm-cloud armor. Lightning crawled across its dark-blue hide, its dorsal fins shaped like jagged thunderheads. Every exhale distorted the air with static.

To the south, Gravemaw rose from a vortex of collapsing water. Thick, armored carapace. Multi-jointed limbs like stone pillars. A cavernous maw lined with obsidian teeth that shimmered with gravitational distortion. Every footstep pulled the tide unnaturally toward it.

Civilians watched from distant rooftops, trembling.

Fortunately, their fear turned to hope as the sound of spinning rotorblades caused the two Kaiju to turn their attention from the city to the new arrivals. 

The storm split open—as two royal Jaegers fell from the sky like descending Kings of Dawn and Crystal.

ROSE REQUIEM struck the water in a blazing wave of rose-gold and sunlight, halberd glowing with restrained fire.

SILVER SERENADE landed with crystalline precision, water cascading like shards of glass around its reflective silhouette.

Phillip’s voice rang through the comms channel: “August, Cinderella — see you on the other side.”

August answered, confidence edged with fire: “Make it quick. We’ll try not to finish first.”

Cinderella added with soft warmth, “Stay safe — both of you.”

Aurora replied, light yet steady, “You too.”

Then the channel split.

Rose Requiem turned north. Silver Serenade moved south.

Both Kaiju charged.

Tempestera shrieked, its fins snapping open like thunderclaps. Bolts of lightning speared the sea, sending pillars of steam skyward.

Phillip tightened Rose Requiem’s stance.

“Here it comes—!”

Tempestera lunged, tail slicing the waves into a cyclone. Phillip diverted left. Aurora steadied their footing. The Kaiju missed by meters, but its passing sent an electric shock across Rose Requiem’s armor.

Pain stabbed through both pilots’ bodies.

Aurora grit her teeth. “Feedback stable—just a surge!”

Phillip exhaled sharply. “Alright. Let’s return the greeting.”

They countered.

Rose Requiem launched forward, shoulder-checking the Kaiju with explosive force. Seawater detonated outward. Tempestera reeled, fins sparking wildly.

Phillip spun Rose Requiem into a roundhouse that smashed the Kaiju’s jaw.

The beast bellowed—and lightning burst point-blank against the Jaeger’s chest.

Both pilots cried out, the pain mirroring the impact, but they dug in.

Phillip snarled through the feedback.

“Still with me, Rose?”

Aurora’s voice trembled—but bright and fierce: “Always, my love.”

The luminal resonance pulsed. Gold and silver light flared across the Conn-Pod as their modular plasma polearm materialized in Rose Requiem's hands. 

Dawnbreaker Halberd engaged. 

They charged again—and Tempestera met them with a storm.

Gravemaw lumbered toward Marseille’s seawall, every step pulling debris, cars, and even lampposts toward its gravity-distorting maw. The air warped around it like a shimmering lens.

Silver Serenade sprinted forward, Chrono Step boosters firing in precise blue pulses. Augmenting their movement, August and Cinderella moved like dancers in perfect timing.

Gravemaw lunged. Silver & frost-blue light flared as a twin-bladed energy sword resembling a crystalline rapier appeared in Silver Serenade's hands. The Crystal Saber "Glassstroke". 

Serenade slipped between the Kaiju’s limbs—blink-like bursts of speed and grace—then slashed its flank with the Glassstroke Saber, carving a glowing crystalline wound across its armored hide.

The Kaiju roared, swiping with a pillar-like limb.

The blow connected.

Inside the Conn-Pod, August and Cinderella staggered violently. Pain shot through August’s ribs; Cinderella’s breath caught in her lungs.

“We’re okay,” Cinderella gasped. “Focus — we can’t let it breach the seawall.”

August steadied his breath, matching her rhythm. “Right. Together.”

Silver Serenade raised its shimmering shield array, deflecting a gravity pulse that would have flattened a district.

They advanced again.

Tempestera wrapped lightning around its entire body like a living coil, then launched it outward in a stormfront blast.

The strike hit Rose Requiem full-on.

Phillip and Aurora screamed—a shared echo of pain—but their hands never left the controls.

Phillip roared, “Aurora—NOW!”

Aurora’s clarity cut through the agony. “Dawnbreaker — GO!”

They swung.

Solar fire met storm.

The halberd carved Tempestera’s right fin clean off. Lightning sputtered uselessly into the sea.

Phillip pushed forward with every ounce of power. Aurora mirrored him, steady and luminous.

Rose Requiem surged, twisted, and drove its knee into Tempestera’s torso.

The Kaiju folded—and that was the opening.

“END IT!”

They slashed downward with divine precision, splitting the storm serpent along its spine. Lightning sprayed into the skies like severed fireworks.

Tempestera toppled, dissolving into a plume of crackling energy and black seawater.

Rose Requiem stood triumphant.

Aurora exhaled shakily. “We did it.”

Phillip’s voice softened. “You were perfect.”

Her cheeks flushed behind the visor. “So were you.”

Gravemaw lunged with gravitational suction, trying to drag Silver Serenade into its crushing jaws.

Cinderella called through short gasps, “Adjust—twelve degrees—NOW!”

August pivoted into a Chrono Step burst—the Jaeger vanished in a flash of blue—reappearing behind the Kaiju. Glassstroke disappeared, replaced by a new weapon. 

Crescent Lance "Twilight Waltz" engaged. 

August drove the lance deep into Gravemaw’s spinal plating.

Cinderella added a crystal harmonic pulse—the weapon vibrated violently—and Gravemaw’s armor shattered like stone exploding under a diamond drill.

The Kaiju roared in panic. Its gravity field flickered.

"Let's finish this!" August roared. 

He unleashed a full-spin strike—the lance tearing upward through Gravemaw’s entire back—splitting it cleanly in half.

The titan collapsed into the surf with a seismic crack.

Silver Serenade stood victorious.

Phillip’s voice came in, breathless but bright:“Status check — Serenade?”

Cinderella replied first, gentler but triumphant: “Gravemaw neutralized. Are you both alright?”

Aurora answered, warm as dawn: “We’re okay. Tempestera is down.”

August’s voice came next, grinning even through exhaustion: “Hah! And not a single stratosphere punch this time.”

Phillip laughed. “Next time then.”

"Let's all return home." Aurora said. 

"Agreed." Cinderella replied. 

And above the ruined sea, beneath a clearing sky,
two royal Jaegers stood victorious—side by side—claiming Marseille as their battlefield and their crown.

The storms above Marseille were already breaking apart when the two Jaegers turned toward home. The sea, once churned into chaos, now smoothed under the early morning light.

Rose Requiem and Silver Serenade walked side by side through the fading surf, their titanic silhouettes glowing in gold and sapphire against the horizon.

Inside their Conn-Pods, both pilot pairs could finally breathe easy.

Phillip leaned back slightly, finally letting the tension drain from his shoulders. Aurora kept her hands steady on the harness grips, exhaling slowly as the Drift softened to a gentle hum beneath her skin.

On the shared comms channel, August’s voice came through, tired but cheerful:

“Well — that’s two less catastrophes to worry about today.”

Phillip smirked.
“And Marseille still stands. Always a good sign.”

Cinderella chimed in with a warm, lilting laugh. “The relief in LOCCENT is unbelievable. Phineas & Isabella nearly burst into tears.”

Aurora smiled softly. “We should go easy on them when we get back.”

“We should,” August agreed, “but we won’t.”

Phillip snorted, earning an amused elbow from Aurora.

The enormous sea-gates of Elysion rose ahead, opening like the jaws of a golden citadel. Floodlights lit the inner bay in sweeping arcs, reflecting off Jaeger armor and dancing across the waves.

As the Jaegers stepped from ocean to steel, crews erupted into applause along the upper gantries. Technicians, marines, engineers — all cheering their returning champions.

Holographic banners flickered overhead:

ROYAL INITIATIVE — MISSION SUCCESS
MARSEILLE SECURED
TEMPESTERA — ELIMINATED
GRAVEMAW — ELIMINATED

Inside Rose Requiem’s Conn-Pod, Aurora felt a warm flutter in her chest at the sight of so many grateful faces.

Phillip smiled at her through the Drift link. “Quite the welcome.”

Aurora’s voice softened. “We did something good today.”

“Together,” Phillip echoed.

The massive platforms locked beneath the Jaegers’ feet. Magnetic joints disengaged. The Conn-Pods eased upward, letting out a deep metallic sigh.

When the pod doors slid open, cool air rushed in — smelling of oil, salt, metal, and home.

Phineas Flynn sprinted toward the returning teams with boundless enthusiasm, nearly tripping over his own boots.

“YOU GUYS!” he shouted, waving a tablet over his head.
“That was ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! Tempestera AND Gravemaw? Are you kidding me?!”

Phillip laughed as he stepped out, though he winced at the sudden reminder of the neural feedback bruises. Aurora steadied him, placing a gentle hand at his back.

Cinderella emerged moments later, graceful even while exhausted. August followed, rolling his shoulders with a pained grunt.

Phineas immediately fussed over them.

“Any fractures? Concussions? Torn muscles? Emotional trauma? Existential dread? Bruising shaped like Kaiju claws? Be honest!”

August rubbed his side. “Some bruises, yes.”

Cinderella tapped her forehead lightly. “Some lingering dizziness.”

Phillip raised a hand. “And a shoulder that feels like it got struck by a lightning meteor.”

Aurora nodded with a wince. “And a rib cage that feels like a percussion instrument.”

Phineas scribbled frantically.

“Okay — noted, noted, noted. Perfect! Isabella’s bringing cold packs and pastries, so medical AND comfort food.”

Phillip: “In that order?”

Phineas: “Yes. Probably. Maybe. We’ll see.”

The two couples gathered in the center of the hangar bay, surrounded by cheering staff and towering machinery. For a brief moment, everything felt still — warm, grounded, human.

Aurora smiled at Cinderella, grateful. “You two fought beautifully.”

Cinderella returned the smile, her eyes soft. “So did you. Tempestera was terrifying.”

Phillip clapped August on the shoulder — gently, given the bruising. “Nice work out there.”

August smirked. “You weren’t too bad yourself.”

Aurora interjected with a laugh. “They mean ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m glad you’re safe.’ They just have extra steps.”

Cinderella nodded approvingly. “As royal men often do.”

Phillip and August exchanged a helpless look that only made their partners laugh harder.

As they headed toward the med-bay together — tired, sore, laughing, leaning on each other — the two royal couples shared one last quiet exchange.

Phillip: “Same time tomorrow?”

August stretched his arms with a groan. “Let’s pray tomorrow doesn’t need us.”

Aurora brushed a strand of hair from her face, smiling gently. “But if it does… we’ll be ready.”

Cinderella added with soft conviction: “Together.”

The four of them walked forward, framed by the golden lights of Elysion Shatterdome.

Behind them, Rose Requiem and Silver Serenade stood like gleaming monuments to courage and grace — silent giants watching over the dawn.

Chapter Text

🌹 ROSE REQUIEM

Mark VI Luminous Assault Jaeger

Pilots: Prince Phillip & Princess Aurora
Drift Compatibility: 99.7% (highest on record for a non-twin pair)
Height: 84 m | Weight: 2,230 tons
Affiliation: Elysion Shatterdome (European Division)

Profile:
A rose-gold titan forged from dawnlight and moonfire, Rose Requiem embodies the perfect harmony of Phillip’s valor and Aurora’s radiant calm. Powered by a dual Solar–Lunar Bi-Photonic Core, it generates a unique luminal resonance—a powerful harmonic aura that boosts speed, precision, and reactor efficiency.

Signature Arsenal:

• Dawnbreaker Halberd Mk II — modular plasma halberd/sword/scythe

• Aurora Cannon — chest-mounted photonic beam

• Thorn Lash Emitters — plasma energy whips

• Radiant Gauntlets — kinetic light punches

• Aurora Field — adaptive photonic barrier

Combat Character:
Graceful yet devastating. Dance-like movement patterns, sweeping halberd arcs, and luminous finishing strikes define its presence on the battlefield. Specialized in blitz assaults, countering elemental Kaiju, and full-aura finishers.

Signature Finisher:
Eternal Dawnfall — a spiraling, solar-lunar charged halberd strike that erases a Kaiju in a burst of rose-gold radiance.

❄️ SILVER SERENADE

Mark V Precision Duel-Class Jaeger

Pilots: Prince August & Princess Cinderella
Drift Compatibility: 99.3%
Height: 80 m | Weight: 2,000 tons
Affiliation: Vienna Shatterdome (Continental European Division)

Profile:
An elegant, mirror-bright duelist Jaeger crafted for speed, evasive combat, and surgical precision. Silver Serenade is built around the Chrono-Luminal Reactor, tuned to the exact rhythmic synchrony of August and Cinderella’s heartbeat patterns. When perfectly aligned, it accelerates their perception and movement into ghostlike blurs.

Signature Arsenal:

• Glassstroke Saber — crystalline energy rapier humming with harmonic resonance

• Harmonic Shield Array — prismatic energy shields

• Chrono Step Boosters — burst-dash microthrusters enabling blink-speed sidesteps

• Twilight Waltz Lance — rotating thrust weapon for armor penetration

Combat Character:
Fast, fluid, and deceptively lethal. Specializes in precision counters, disarming maneuvers, and exploiting Kaiju openings with surgical efficiency. Its movements resemble a waltz—measured, elegant, and deadly.

Signature Finisher:
Glass Midnight — a blinding flurry of instantaneous cuts delivered within a single heartbeat, shattering even Category V armor.

Chapter Text

The call came just before dawn.

Beneath the North Atlantic’s cold gray expanse, sonar arrays across the Eastern Seaboard lit up with frantic alarm—something enormous was rising from a trench that charts didn’t even name anymore.

LOCCENT confirmed it minutes later:

“Category V Kaiju approaching continental waters. Codename: ABYSS RENDER.”

The creature was an ancient, eel-like titan draped in long, armored fronds and barbed tendrils. Its deep-sea bioluminescence pulsed like malignant stars. Its specialized limbs—long, fin-like, and backward-hooked—were built for silent ambushes in endless darkness.

And there was only one Jaeger in the world suited to fight it where it swam strongest.

TIDAL ARIA.

The prep bay hummed with blue lights and pressurized steam. Eric tightened the clasps on his marine-grade pilot suit, testing the flexible seals along his arms while Ariel synchronized her own armor’s neural patches. The opal-green glow of her visor reflected the quiet determination in her eyes.

Eric glanced at her, smiling softly.

“Ready for a morning swim?”

Ariel stepped closer, brushing her gauntleted hand against his.

“With you? Always.”

Their touches were warm, familiar, unhurried—the quiet certainty of two souls who had grown up together, learned together, and built a life anchored in friendship long before marriage sealed it. The Drift would only amplify what was already there.

A door slid open above them.

“Pilots of Tidal Aria,” came Isabella Garcia-Shapiro’s voice through the overhead speakers, bright and focused, “LOCCENT is ready for you. And—” she added with a brief warmth “—Phineas says he loves you both but absolutely forbids any more ‘heroic improvised stunts’ without consulting the technicians first.”

Eric laughed. Ariel hid her smile behind a raised hand.

“We’ll behave,” Eric promised.

Ariel added, “Mostly.”

Isabella sighed. “I’ll take it. Conn-Pod is open for boarding.”

The Conn-Pod closed with a deep hydraulic sigh. Dim aquamarine lights marked their stations.

“Initiating neural handshake,” Isabella reported.

Ariel inhaled slowly, letting her heartbeat match Eric’s.

He matched her rhythm, familiar as their shared morning walks on the beach.

The Drift opened like a living ocean—warm currents of memory, shared laughter, stolen kisses, swimming dates, stormy nights spent in each other’s arms.

Their bond didn’t flare like a wildfire. It glowed like a lighthouse—steady, warm, guiding.

Waveheart Cycle engaged.

Isabella’s voice returned. “Drift stable. Synch level: 98.9%. Excellent as always.”

Ariel opened her eyes. Eric opened his.

Two hearts, one wavelength.

“Activating Aqua-Sonic Core,” Eric said, voice steady.

Ariel followed with gentle strength, “Hydrojet systems online.”

Both spoke together:

“Tidal Aria — online.”

Tidal Aria slipped beneath the waves like a god of the ocean, its teal armor shimmering with bioluminescent pulses. Jets fired softly, guiding it into the abyss without disturbing the water more than necessary.

Hundreds of meters below, the water turned black.

And then—something moved.

Abyss Render surged upward in a blur of motion, its tendrils slicing the water like serrated wings. It shrieked—a bubbling, pressure-warped sound that made even hardened sonar technicians flinch.

Isabella’s voice sharpened in their ears.

“Target visual confirmed. Abyss Render is moving at Mach 1.2 underwater—faster than predicted. Stay alert.”

Eric tightened Tidal Aria’s stance. Ariel’s hands glided gracefully across her controls.

“Let’s meet it head-on,” Eric said.

Ariel nodded. “Together.”

Abyss Render shot forward—but Ariel pressed a switch, her voice resonating softly into the core.

“Siren Field — activate.”

Tidal Aria’s shoulders glowed, releasing harmonic pulses through the water. The frequencies weaved through the sea like singing currents—beautiful, eerie and divine.

The Kaiju convulsed mid-charge. Its limbs spasmed. Its bioluminescent pattern flickered.

Isabella exclaimed over comms, “Whatever you two are doing—keep doing it! The Siren Field is disorienting it!”

Eric surged forward with ruthless precision.

“Tidal Cannons—fire!”

Twin jets of hyper-compressed water erupted from Tidal Aria’s forearms. They hit Abyss Render with bone-cracking force, peeling thick slabs of armored hide from its flank.

The Kaiju shrieked in pain, spinning in the water and sending debris drifting upward like floating shrapnel.

Ariel whispered, her voice firm: “It’s wounded. Press the advantage.”

Eric was already moving.

Hydrojets burst, as Tidal Aria became a blur of teal and white in the deep.

“Sea Reign!” Eric commanded.

Panels shifted across Tidal Aria’s right arm. The trident [Sea Reign] extended—three blazing harpoon-blades charged with ionized sea-plasma.

Ariel sang softly—only a note, a single pure tone that resonated through the Drift and straight into the weapon.

They charged.

Abyss Render launched a desperate counter-attack, tendrils whipping wildly. One struck Tidal Aria’s left shoulder—pain flashed through both pilots, sharp and electric—but they held firm.

“It’s trying to flee,” Isabella warned. “Cut it off!”

Eric angled upward. Ariel directed the jets. They intercepted the monster.

Tidal Aria thrust the trident forward—

Sea Reign pierced Abyss Render’s mouth and drove through the back of its skull.

Ariel’s harmonic pulse flared through the trident—and the Kaiju’s brainstem detonated in a glowing cloud of crimson and black.

The monster went still. Its bioluminescence faded like dying stars.

Tidal Aria pulled the trident free, letting the carcass float weightlessly in the dark.

Eric let out a shaky breath. Ariel exhaled into the Drift, their waves calming together.

“It’s over,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Eric replied softly. “We did it.”

Isabella’s voice was half-shout, half-sobbing-laughter. 

“YES! That was PERFECT! Abyss Render neutralized! Tidal Aria remains undefeated in deep-water combat!”

Ariel smiled at Eric, eyes glowing through her visor. “We’re a good team.”

Eric leaned his forehead gently toward hers. “The best.”

Tidal Aria rose toward the surface, victorious—and the ocean sang in their wake.

The waters near Elysion shimmered a calm blue as Tidal Aria broke the surface, rising from the deep like a triumphant sea deity. Spray cascaded down its armor in rippling curtains as it strode toward the Shatterdome’s open sea-gates. Floodlights greeted it like returning torches of a coastal kingdom welcoming its guardian.

Inside the Conn-Pod, Ariel exhaled softly—relief, victory, and contentment blooming through the Drift’s fading glow. Eric kept one hand on his controls, the other brushing hers in a quiet, wordless affirmation.

“We did well,” he said.

Ariel leaned slightly against him, her helmet touching his shoulder.

“We always do.”

Their bond vibrated warm and steady—no tension, no adrenaline spike, just the calm of two spirits who held absolute trust in each other.

The Conn-Pod hissed open to a cooling wash of air and the scent of sea mist and polished metal. Ariel and Eric stepped onto the gantry—still in full marine armor, water dripping from their suits.

Isabella Garcia-Shapiro stood waiting with a calm smile and her tablet held to her chest. Phineas stood beside her, one arm gently around her waist, their fingers intertwined.

Isabella spoke first, her tone composed but warm: “You two executed perfectly. Drift was stable from start to finish, and your Siren Field calibration was flawless.”

Phineas nodded in agreement, his voice soft and impressed.

“Everything about that run was clean, controlled, and—honestly—beautiful to watch.”

He squeezed Isabella’s hand lightly. “She handled LOCCENT like a total pro.”

Isabella glanced up at him, her eyes glowing with a mix of pride and gentle affection. “Someone has to keep this place organized.”

Phineas leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“You’re incredible.”

Ariel smiled warmly at the sight, nudging Eric playfully. “They’re adorable.”

Eric smirked. “The ocean agrees.”

Isabella’s attention returned to Eric & Ariel.

“I’ve already sent diagnostics to medical, but your vitals held remarkably well. The neural feedback from that shoulder hit wasn’t severe.”

Eric rolled the joint carefully. “Still sore, but manageable.”

Ariel added, “It’ll fade.”

Phineas extended two insulated cups toward them. “Warm ginger tea. Isabella made it. For post-Drift vertigo.”

Ariel & Eric accepted theirs with delight and grateful surprise.

“Thank you,” they said together.

Isabella’s smile was quiet and heartfelt. “Of course. You two deserve some comfort after everything.”

Phineas nodded. “And rest. Definitely rest.”

The two technicians left together, walking in step, Phineas’ arm lightly around Isabella’s shoulders. Their hushed voices and soft laughter echoed just slightly across the hangar.

When the bustle faded and the platform grew quieter, Ariel and Eric lingered beside the railing overlooking the water. Below them, Tidal Aria’s rose-green armor gleamed faintly in the evening light, still dripping from the sea.

Ariel leaned into Eric’s side, letting her head rest against him. The Shatterdome was loud, but here—with the ocean breeze brushing in—it felt like they were alone.

“Every time we come back,” she whispered, “I’m reminded of how lucky I am.”

Eric wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer.

“Lucky?” He smiled. “Ariel… You’re the reason Tidal Aria sings the way it does. You guide us through the Drift. Through everything.”

Ariel’s breath caught softly—not from emotion she didn’t expect, but from how effortlessly he voiced it.

“You’re my anchor,” she murmured.

“And you’re my compass,” he replied.

Their visors clicked open.

Ariel looked up at him—eyes bright like tide-lit jewels. Eric leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes.

The ocean wind carried the moment gently between them—a quiet promise, deeper than any oath.

Whatever darkness rose from the deep, they would face it together.