(Lavinia’s POV — Red Wall Castle, Night After the Victory)
"Sera, it’s a formal dinner, not a coronation," I muttered as she tugged the ribbons of my gown tighter. "I don’t need to look like so ethereal goddess during warti."
Sera didn’t even pause.
"You are a crown princess, Your Highness. You could be in a battlefield, a dungeon, or the middle of a swamp—you still need to look like the future empress."
I groaned. "War doesn’t stop just because I’m not wearing makeup."
"No," she said, curling another lock of my golden hair with a concentration that could rival brain surgery,"but n will."
I blinked. "Did you just—"
"I said what I said," she replied innocently, pinning a white bead into my hair.
I sighed and looked at the mirror.
A blue backless off-shoulder gown, the fabric sprinkled with faint silver stars that shimred with every breath. The slit up my leg threatened to start unnecessary battles. My hair curled in golden waves, white pearls woven like constellations. My eyes shimred—not with costics, but with danger.
"...This looks like I’m heading to a grand ball," I grumbled. "Where did you even find this dress? We are in the middle of a war."
Sera, trying very hard to hide her smile, said, "Nanny sent it. Personally. With a note that said — ’This will be useful one day.’"
I closed my eyes. "Of course she did. That woman has prepared for every possible scenario."
She stepped back, looked at once, and clapped softly—barely containing a squeal. "Now you look... dangerously gorgeous, Your Highness."
I tilted my head, admiring the reflection. And then, with a dead-serious expression, I whispered, "Well... I was born beautiful."
Sera nearly choked on her laughter. "Shall we, your highness?"
I nodded, and we stepped into the dim hallway lit only by torches. A silhouette stood waiting outside.
Sir Haldor.
The mont the door opened, he glanced in our direction—casual, professional—and then he actually saw .
His body went still.
His eyes widened. His breath hitched—loud enough to hear. A faint color crept across his sharp cheekbones, and he looked away for a split second... as if the sight physically overwheld him.
Beside , Sera whispered under her breath. "...is he blushing?"
I took a step closer. "Why are you here, Captain?"
His posture snapped straight, trained instincts smothering whatever emotion had flickered."I—I am here to escort you, Your Highness."
"Oh?"
Then he hesitated—just for a heartbeat—before extending his arm. The gesture was formal... but his eyes betrayed him, tracing my face, my gown, and the curve of stars woven into my hair.
"Shall we, Your Highness?"
There was sothing reverent in his tone. Sothing unpracticed—unguarded. I placed my gloved hand in his.
"Yes. Let’s go, Captain."
His fingers curved around mine—gentle but firm enough to anchor. His body tensed, not in battle-readiness... but in the unfamiliar rush of sothing dangerously softer.
We began to walk.
The hallway seed to pull back for us. Torches flared brighter. Boots echoed in a perfect rhythm—one step of a princess, one step of the man escorting her like she was sothing far more precious.
At the end of the hall, Marshi stretched—tail smacking the wall with a loud thud. He yawned wide enough to swallow a soldier whole. When he saw , he lumbered forward, brushing against my gown protectively.
I ruffled the fur between his ears. "Are you hungry?"
He let out a dramatic, exhausted growl—sounding every bit like a beast who saved a castle before bedti.
"He sounds sleepy," Sera said softly.
I chuckled. "Of course he is. He hunted ren soldiers like a maddened tiger today."
Marshi puffed his chest at that, letting out a booming growl as if saying, I deserve a grand feast.
Sera nodded solemnly. "He absolutely does."
For a mont—just a mont—ti felt playful. Warm. Human. But then I felt it—the weight of Haldor’s gaze. Not predatory.
srized.
The kind of stare n like him never an to show. The kind that slips free when their heart hasn’t realized it’s exposed.
His eyes lingered not on the dress... but on .
On the woman he had nearly died protecting. On the woman he was walking beside now.
He didn’t speak.
There was sothing in the silence that hadn’t been there before—an emotion raw and new, blooming quietly and violently behind his ribs.
Like a new beginning of sothing.
I tightened my hold on his arm just slightly.
And together—a princess, a captain, a loyal maid, and a divine beast—we walked toward the dining chamber where the entire army waited.
Our steps echoed through the corridor like a slow drum roll... announcing a mont none of us fully understood yet —The night victory was crowned.
And beneath all that grandeur, sothing else quietly began—sothing unnad, sothing dangerous, sothing I wasn’t ready to face yet.
The doors to the dining chamber swung open.
Every head turned. Every soldier—every commander—rose instantly to their feet.
Rey.General Arwin.Colonel Zerith.And at the center of them—Grand Duke Osric.
As one, they lowered their heads.
"Greetings, Your Highness."
A soft smile curved on my lips. "Did I make you wait too long?"
Colonel Zerith answered first, polite and warm, "No, Your Highness. We only just arrived."
Before I could respond, Haldor stepped forward—smooth, controlled, yet I could feel the tension in him like a drum under skin. He reached the head of the table and pulled back my chair.
"Your seat, Your Highness."
His voice was low, reverent.
I placed my hand lightly over his, lowering myself into the chair. "Thank you, Sir Haldor."
A muscle in his jaw twitched—not with discomfort, but with sothing that felt dangerously close to pride.
And then I felt it.
A stare. Sharp. Bitter. Burning.
I lifted my eyes—and locked gazes with Osric. His expression didn’t shift, but the anger in his eyes was loud enough to shake glass. He wasn’t glaring at — He was glaring at Haldor.
The silent, territorial hatred in that stare could have set the table on fire.
I inhaled slowly.
Not tonight. Not here.
I broke the tension with a light, effortless tone, "Please—take your seats."
Chairs scraped the floor as everyone obeyed.
Rey sat first, grinning like he already knew this dinner was about to be entertaining. Arwin adjusted his gloves, his posture noble and relaxed. Zerith straightened, disciplined even in celebration.Haldor took the seat to my right. Osric sat on my left—stiff, unreadable, and storming in silence.
Servants poured in with trays—freshly baked bread, roasted venison, vegetables simred in herbs, and wine that Red Wall’s nobles had hoarded for themselves.
The plates filled.
Voices rose.
The feast began.
But beneath the clatter of cutlery and the warmth of victory, the undercurrent remained: A man trying not to look at too much. A man trying not to look away from at all.
And —caught in the center.
Between loyalty and mory. Between old love and sothing new, sharp, and dangerous beginning to bloom.
The mont food touched plates, the room loosened by a fraction.
Rey raised his glass first. "To our terrifying Crown Princess—may our enemies continue to underestimate her so she can kill them faster."
I snorted. "Rey, that is the most poetic complint I’ve heard today."
Arwin wiped his mouth with a napkin and added dryly, "On the contrary—that is poetry for Rey."
Rey gasped dramatically. "General Arwin, you wound ."
Haldor took a sip of wine and murmured, "You’ll live."
The table burst into laughter—except Osric, who chewed his food like it had personally insulted him.
Sera leaned forward with a curious sparkle. "Your Highness, I must ask... did you really predict that the Red Wall commander would panic when the villagers surrounded the gate?"
I nodded, slicing my bread. "Of course. Incompetent nobles fear their own people more than foreign armies."
Rey whistled long and low. "I swear, if I ever beco an enemy of yours—please kill quickly."
I pointed my fork at him. "Oh don’t worry. I’m rciful. I kill my favorites even faster."
The table choked on their food—except Haldor, who replied without missing a beat, "...then I hope I never beco your favorite."
Silence.
Five heads turned toward him in disbelief.
Rey’s grin stretched slow and wicked as he leaned forward. "Why? Do you wish to live with the princess forever?"
Without missing a heartbeat—without thinking—Haldor answered, "Yes. I want to live with the princess forever."
Conversation died so completely the crackling candle beca the loudest sound in the room.
Arwin, desperate to save the atmosphere, laughed weakly. "Ah—yes! Of course! You an as her loyal captain, right?"
Haldor opened his mouth — but before he could salvage himself, Rey slid the dagger in deeper with a smirk, "Funny... because you sounded more like a man who just vowed to stay with her destined partner, till the end of his life."
Another silence.
He froze... then the realization hit him like a hamr. Color spilled across his cheeks — rare, fierce embarrassnt.
"I—no—I an—" he stuttered, looking everywhere except , "Your Highness, I... I didn’t an it like—"
I touched his hand lightly beneath the table — just once. "It’s alright, Haldor. I understand what you ant."
He went still. Then nodded, jaw clenched, still too red.
Colonel Zerith chuckled into his cup. "This is the first ti I’ve seen Captain talk this much."
I blinked. "Why? Does he not talk usually?"
"Oh no, Your Highness," Zerith said instantly. "Normally he speaks five words a day, has the emotional expression of a stone wall, and moves like a panther that might slit your throat if you breathe too loudly."
Laughter exploded around the table, except Osric. Haldor buried his face in his palm for a second — ears burning.
Even Marshi huffed like he was laughing. But then—Osric’s voice slid into the warmth like ice water.
"Indeed." His eyes were sharp, poisonous. "This ti around, I am seeing too much of you crossing the lines, Captain."
Laughter died.
The cheerful atmosphere cracked clean in half.
Haldor’s blush vanished — replaced by sothing steel-sharp and cold. He slowly lifted his head, eting Osric’s glare without flinching.
A single, suffocating mont stretched.
Two n — one fueled by possessive history, the other by sothing new and unspoken — both watching like the battlefield was suddenly this table.
No one dared breathe. And I realized —The war outside the castle wasn’t the only war I had to win.
There was another one beginning right here.
Inside us.
Around us.
Between us.
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