Aida

I love medieval or historic adventure/romance. I watched one some time back and disappointed by the lack of storyline, I boasted to my wife that even I could write a simple romantic drama that will be better. To prove my point, I told her two stories. This is the written form of better of those.

My wife loved it - I am not sure if she liked the story or she simply cares about my feelings.

Standard Warning : Anyone indulging in sex is above 18 years.

Standard Apology : English is not my first language and I am trying my hand in medieval style (inspired by Tolkien). Story is pretty long too. I apologise in advance for the mistakes that you see. I have no editors.

Aida

<>bBeginning

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a powerful kingdom named Aurelia, ruled by King Halrix IV, a monarch of great might and wisdom. The Duchy of Thravenreach, located in the southernmost reaches of Aurelia, was a vassal state of the Kingdom and was home to Princess Aida.

Far to the south, beyond the borders of Aurelia, lived many tribal kingdoms--referred to as "savages" by the folk of Aurelia. The largest of these kingdoms was Flamewood, ruled by Chief Baran whose middle son was Captain Dale.

This is their tale.

Chapter 1

Duke Thelric of Velmorra was a man of great shrewdness and pragmatism, known far and wide for his ability to maintain Velmorra's independence, even as King Halrix sought to subjugate neighboring duchies and bring them under Aurelia's dominion. Thelric had cleverly negotiated an agreement with King Halrix: in exchange for offering elite military forces in times of war, Velmorra would remain autonomous. Though he was a distant relative of the king, Thelric was an Aurelian by blood, and his sharp wit and political acumen had earned him respect at court--and fear for his calculated coldness.

Having seen many a kingdom torn asunder by the wars of succession, Thelric was determined that Velmorra would not meet the same fate. His two sons, however, could prove to be a threat to that stability.

"You called for me, Father?" Akon, the elder son, asked as he entered the room.

"Come in, Akon," Thelric replied, his voice grave. He stood near the large window in his study, the rays of the setting sun casting long shadows across the stone floor. His younger son, Aron, stood stoically at his side, silent as ever.

Akon could already guess the subject of their conversation, and he had a feeling he knew the decision his father was about to make.

"I am growing old, Akon," Thelric said, his voice tinged with a quiet heaviness.

"You still have many summers yet to come, Father," Akon replied, trying to offer comfort.

"Perhaps," Thelric mused, turning to face his sons. "But I wish to be prepared. I wish for Velmorra to be prepared." He gestured to the lands beyond the window. "It took great sacrifice and fortune to keep Velmorra beyond the reach of King Halrix and the southern tribes. I want my successor to ensure its continued independence."

Akon and Aron stood at attention, hands clasped behind their backs, awaiting their father's next words.

"Akon," Thelric continued, his voice measured, "you are a thinker. Your diplomatic skills surpass my own, but you are no warrior. You do not seek conquest; instead, you seek to build through negotiation. But you are not fit to rule in times of conflict."

Akon bowed his head, understanding his father's words. "You speak truly, Father. I believe negotiation creates a better legacy than conquest."

Thelric turned to Aron, his eyes hardening. "You, Aron, are fiery, charismatic, and power-hungry. You are a warrior, well-liked by the Aurelian warlords. But you play a cruel game with no mercy."

Aron simply nodded, his face betraying no emotion.

"I have made my decision," Thelric's voice grew firm. "You will both accept it, or you will rebel against me." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to sink in.

Akon and Aron remained silent, their eyes locked on their father.

"Akon," Thelric said, "you are not worthy to be the next ruler of Velmorra. I hereby name Aron as my successor. He shall rule in my stead when I am gone."

A wide grin spread across Aron's face, though he quickly suppressed it to mask his satisfaction. Akon, however, remained unfazed. He had long expected this outcome.

"I thank you, Father," Aron said, his voice dripping with pride, but he stopped speaking when Thelric raised a hand.

"I am not finished yet," Thelric declared. "The eastern coastal town of Thravenreach, with its surrounding hills and forests, was once a separate duchy. It shall be again, under Akon's control. He has served me well and shown promise. Thravenreach will be a vassal state to King Halrix, just as Velmorra is."

Akon bowed deeply, his voice calm. "I accept, Father."

Aron, though displeased at losing Thravenreach, knew that the throne of Velmorra was a reward in itself, and he was content with the outcome. "As you wish, Father," he said.

Years passed, and Aron grew stronger, thanks to his many alliances through marriage and his growing wealth. His bloodline was secure, and his power grew alongside his desire for control.

Akon, on the other hand, took a different path. His marriage to Alia, the youngest daughter of the fearsome Naqari chief, was a political move that shocked the nobles of Aurelia. The Naqari were known for their stealth and deadly precision in battle, and their union immediately halted any potential raids on Thravenreach. Though many believed the marriage was merely political, few knew that Akon and Alia had long been in love. Their union brought balance, and it also gave birth to a daughter--a child who would grow to be known as Princess Aida.

Chapter 2

Little Aida, with her friend Brinna, played merrily in her chamber, the sweet sound of laughter ringing through the air. Brinna's mother, a trusted maid to Alia, kept watch, her sharp eyes always alert. Suddenly, loud voices echoed from Akon's study.

"Why must you go? Your army is but a small handful. Know that you can not face them," Alia's voice rang out, filled with anger.

"And you know why," Akon's voice answered, firm. "If Flamewood takes this part of the forest, we lose access to Velmorra. 'Tis an important trade route, not just for us but for the whole of Aurelia."

Alia, furious, grasped his hand tightly. "I will ride with thee. I know who we shall face this day."

"Nay, Alia," Akon replied, his tone softening. "Aron has promised his soldiers. You are not a trained fighter." Then, in a hushed whisper, he added, "I need you to take over should I not return."

Distraught, Alia kissed him fiercely, her tears mixing with the urgency of their parting.

Alas, Akon fell in the battle--his small company no match for the might of Flamewood's warriors. Velmorra's army, as it seemed, had not arrived. Perhaps they were never meant to.

Alia, overcome with grief, performed his burial in the Aurelian manner. King Halrix himself arrived to honour him, his presence a somber mark of respect. After the king departed, Lord Aron approached Alia.

"Lady Alia, with Akon gone, I offer my assistance in the running of the court. You have Aida to raise, and you are deep in sorrow," Aron said, his voice soft, feigning sympathy.

Alia's eyes burned with fury. "Should I call you Lord Aron, or Aron the backstabber? You come to claim Thravenreach, I see. But you forget that I still hold sway among the Naqari chieftains. I shall not let you take even a finger's breadth of this land."

Aron stood still, taken aback, but his lips curled into a mocking smirk. "And what will ye do, Alia, widow of Akon? You think the Naqari will rise against Velmorra?"

"If I am the daughter of my father, and wife of Akon," she hissed, her words venomous, "I swear, I will bleed your army dry, and once I have done so, I shall come for your head myself. From this day forth, sleep with one eye open, lest ye find a Naqari dagger in your throat."

Her words, fierce and unyielding, caused Aron to retreat in silence, knowing well the wrath of the Naqari.

-----------------

The elders of Thravenreach, with great consensus, named Alia their regent. Flamewood ceased their advances, and the Naqari were pleased to see one of their own in such power. Even Aron, though frustrated, dared not challenge her openly.

Though not born of Aurelian blood, Alia raised Aida as if she were. She taught her daughter the ways of the world, preparing her for betrayal at every turn. Aida, inheriting her father's intellect and her mother's unshakable resolve, grew into a woman of rare strength and wit.

Aron, meanwhile, bided his time, waiting for Alia's death or for her to become politically irrelevant. Once she had gone, Aida, inexperienced and unprepared, would be his easy pawn to crush or control.

For the next ten years, Alia kept Thravenreach safe, never once resorting to battle.

Chapter 3

For many a year, the Southern Tribes had been a thorn in the side of Aurelia, disrupting trade, ambushing merchant caravans, and attacking outposts with relentless cruelty. To the Aurelian nobles, they were nothing more than savages, a disorderly and wild people. Yet, in truth, they were numerous, impoverished, and often more consumed with fighting amongst themselves than with warring against Aurelia or its northern duchies. Even Flamewood, the mightiest of these tribes, was fractured--over a dozen clans vying for power.

Aurelia had always relied on the disunity of the tribes. Their greatest weakness, it seemed, was their inability to stand together. But then came Baran of the Flameborn clan.

Baran was unlike any chieftain before him. He was wise, ruthless, charismatic, and politically astute. He understood that by uniting the fractured tribes, they could become a force capable of challenging even Aurelia itself. And so began his campaign of consolidation--through force, cunning diplomacy, and strategic marriages.

He married the daughter of a rival clan within Flamewood, and later took an Ashclaw warrior as a bride to cement his power. With these unions, he forged loyalty amongst the smaller clans, promising them spoils from Aurelian raids in exchange for their fealty. Baran's warriors were trained not just in ambush, but in the art of siege warfare--watching and learning from the disciplined armies of Aurelia.

In time, the Flamewood tribe became the de facto Southern Empire. They never claimed such a title, yet their power and reach made them as formidable as any empire.

With their newfound unity came boldness. Baran launched coordinated strikes on Aurelia's border duchies--burning farmlands, disrupting roads, and striking with such swiftness that the northern legions were left chasing shadows in the forests. His aim was not to destroy Aurelia, but to instill fear, hoping the northern duchies would turn their allegiance to him instead.

Even Thravenreach, once overlooked, found itself caught in the flames of Baran's raids.

King Halrix IV, the seasoned monarch of Aurelia, realised that these attacks from Flamewood were no mere nuisance. His army, with its superior might, could easily defeat them, but Halrix was a pragmatist. He knew the cost of such a war--lives lost, gold spilled--would be too great. Yet the discontent amongst the common folk threatened his rule. A decision loomed before him: to escalate the war, or to seek a more peaceful solution.

He chose both.

-----------------

Grandmaster Calvenor, the elder sage of the Temple of Stone in Aenlor, was a man of great wisdom. In his youth, he had wandered the lands as a scholar-philosopher, and in his later years, he had become a teacher of princes, sages, and warriors alike. His neutrality and prophetic insights made him a living legend across realms.

When King Halrix arrived at the temple, Calvenor greeted him with respect. "Praise the gods. King Halrix, the Temple of Stone welcomes thee," he said, his voice deep with reverence.

The two men sat in private.

"I can no longer bear this war, Calvenor," Halrix confessed. "I do not wish to appear weak, but I see no victor in this struggle. It is futile, and I know when I see futility."

"What would you have Calvenor do, King Halrix?" Calvenor inquired.

Halrix sighed. "In times of war, men forget the gods. They forget the things that matter most--trade, love, joy. Help me broker a peace with Baran. I want to see my people feasting again, loving their wives, and praising the gods. Let the war end."

"And what would you offer, King Halrix?" Calvenor asked.

Halrix explained his terms.

Chapter 4

Calvenor, having received Baran's consent, made his way to meet the chief. After several days' journey, he found himself in a secluded valley, surrounded by thick forests. There, deep within the heart of this wilderness, they gathered in the Temple of Fire. For three nights, Calvenor and Baran, alongside the wise elders of all southern tribes, deliberated and listened to Baran's terms.

At last, Calvenor proposed his terms and asked if Baran found them agreeable. Baran nodded in assent.

With the agreement sealed, Calvenor departed for Silvercourt, the grand capital of Aurelia, where King Halrix resided.

"Praise the gods. King Halrix," Calvenor began, his voice steady and measured, "Here is the proposal that I bring to thee. Let bloodshed end with bloodshed. Let fire marry ice and grant the world a summer. Chief Baran, in his wisdom, proposes to marry one of his sons into the royal bloodline of Aurelia. The duchy which is to be the bride's dowry shall fall under the dominion of Flamewoods, though Aurelia shall retain trading rights and religious freedoms. The Flamewoods shall guarantee safe passage for Aurelians--men, ships, and horses--for trade, diplomacy, and exploration in all the lands of the South. Aurelia shall cease its military operations and recognize Baran's dominion over the South."

King Halrix listened in silence, his brow furrowed as he pondered the proposal.

"Chief Baran has agreed to these terms," Calvenor continued. "You would do well to accept. Let us put an end to the age of bloodshed and usher in an age of gods."

King Halrix, weary of war and the toll it had taken, could see that this offer served both his kingdom and Baran's. With a deep sigh, he gave his consent.

-----------------

Meanwhile, in the study of Lord Aron, his daughter Princess Serelis, the pride of his household, approached him with a question as she observed the letter he had just read.

"What is this missive about, Father?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued by the pleased look upon her father's face.

Lord Aron set the letter aside with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. "This may well be the path that leads you to the throne, Serelis."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "Halrix and Baran have reached an agreement of peace. As part of this accord, Halrix is to offer one of his daughters for marriage to Baran's son, cementing the alliance between their lands."

Serelis raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with defiance. "And you want me to wed this savage's son? Father, I will not marry a man who has no manners. He lives in the wilds, with no palaces to speak of."

Lord Aron's expression darkened with impatience. "Foolish girl! Do you not see the opportunity before you? By marrying Baran's son, you would become the Queen of Flamewood. Though it is not as grand as Aurelia, you would rule the entire South. Once you sit upon the throne, you shall have palaces beyond your imagining."

Serelis frowned, "But Flamewood chiefs have many wives. Do their kind even know silk? Their women must walk around naked"

Lord Aron was quick to press his point. "Must you really be so childish? Baran's eldest may already have a wife, but that matters not. Those women are plain and unrefined. You, Serelis, are a beauty beyond compare, and a woman of learning and grace. Any man who marries you will bend to your will, and through you, the kingdom will be yours to command."

The words of her father cut through Serelis like a sharp blade, and she began to see the truth in his words. She had inherited his cunning, after all. "You speak truly, Father," she said, her voice tinged with a calculating resolve and her face carrying a dangerous smirk.

Chapter 5

A few days hence, Grandmaster Calvenor arrived in person.

"Duke Aron of Velmorra, you may have already received word from King Halrix. Calvenor shall now state the proposal plainly. Chief Baran's middle son, Dale Flameborn, is strong and unmarried. By betrothing thy daughter to him, you would gain kinship with Chief Baran himself. After thee, Dale would ascend to the title of Duke. Thy customs, tongue, and faith would be honoured. Do thy part for the pact, and the gods shall be with thee."

Aron, upon hearing this, swiftly realised the offer was not as golden as it first appeared. To wed Serelis to Dale was a loss of all his ambitions. He had long desired a match for his daughter with a high king or prince, and Serelis, with her exceptional beauty, was worthy of such a union. But Dale, not being first born, would never sit upon the Flamewood throne. In truth, Aron would lose Velmorra as well. Baran had played a shrewd game. Yet Aron, ever cunning, knew he could strike two birds with one stone.

"Grandmaster," said Aron with calculated calm, "I hear thee, and I heed the command of King Halrix. Yet Serelis is but a naive girl, and I, still not old. Dale shall never control the Duchy for many years to come. This may well bring resentment swiftly. I propose a different path. Baran's son shall wed an Aurelian princess. Princess Aida of Thravenreach is of age and royalty in her own right. Though she is a woman, she is well-versed in the duties of court and diplomacy. Her father is no more, yet she stands strong. Should Dale wed her, he would swiftly become Duke. She is the better choice. Though I would have preferred kinship with Chief Baran, I owe it to my elder brother Akon for the sacrifices he made for both our family and Aurelia."

Calvenor, wise as he was, saw through the Duke's veiled intent. He had never held Aron in high regard, but he knew better than to let the pact fail. "It is understood, Duke Aron. You speak wisely. Calvenor shall send word of King Halrix's decree to Princess Aida and her mother."

As Calvenor departed, Aron, with a smug grin, turned to his daughter. "If Baran sends me a shadow, I shall send him a shadow in return."

Chapter 6

Alia had heard of the deal, and soon received King Halrix's commands through Aron. Her Naqari temper flared.

"Aron thinks himself clever. He believes he can deceive me," she spat, her voice thick with fury.

Aida sought to calm her. "It is not the worst of alliances, mother. We are but a small duchy. I am already twenty, and no Aurelian nobleman has shown interest. I am no beauty like you."

Aida was mistaken. While she did not possess the same striking beauty as her mother, she was tall and regal, her frame lean and her limbs long. Her pale, freckled skin, and fiery-red hair, usually braided or twisted into a modest bun, spoke of her nobility. Her grey eyes, though calm, held a quiet dignity. Unlike her mother, Aida was reserved and composed. Alia had trained her since childhood to be a queen, and as such, she rarely raised her voice or lost her temper. To strangers, Aida often appeared cold or haughty, but those loyal to her knew of her compassion and sharp wit. She was multilingual, well-versed in many tongues and scripts, and a diplomat like her father. She rode horses with the skill of most knights, though she lacked formal sword training. She understood military hierarchy and troop movement. Most times, she preferred simple yet elegant Aurelian gowns--practical, but not without an understanding of fashion. In an ideal world, Aida would have made a perfect queen.

"But they are savages, Aida," Brinna interjected, her voice tinged with scorn. She acted less as a maid and more as a bosom companion. "I've heard that their women wield axes and join in battle. They wear no clothes, no jewellery. Eina told me that their men and women make love openly in temples."

"Brinna--stop spreading foolishness." Alia scolded her. "I have lived among them. Flamewood was always a flourishing empire. And how many times have I told you to address Aida properly?"

"Yes, Queen Alia. But it is true. You may ask Eina, Aida... I mean Lady Aida," Brinna stammered.

"Brinna, Queen Alia fought in wars and wielded axes herself. Are you calling her a savage as well?" Aida shot back.

Realizing her mistake, Brinna wisely decided it was time to retreat and clean the kitchen.

Once she was gone, Alia's tone softened. "You are thinking like your father--that this marriage will provide political leverage."

"And was he ever wrong?" Aida replied. "You and father were so well-matched, even though you were fire and he, ice." Aida hoped to ease her mother's anger by invoking her late father, but it had the opposite effect.

"Aida, this alliance is with a Flamewood prince. You would marry the killers of your father?" Alia's voice trembled with anger.

Aida, stunned, suddenly felt a fire light in her eyes. "We have no choice, mother. You cannot refuse King Halrix. He will simply force us, and that would be disastrous for Thravenreach."

-----------------

"Cousin Alia, do you realize what you are about to do?" Teman, the seasoned Naqari assassin, was troubled.

"Yes, Teman. I am asking because I may not be able to do this alone. You have seen the letter. Aron is forcing me to wed Aida to a Flamewood prince. I cannot refuse Halrix. But if I must go through with this marriage, I will teach Aron a bitter lesson." Alia's voice was steady, though her eyes burned with resolve.

"But to go to his palace and kill him? It is suicidal," Teman warned.

"Since when has Teman ever feared death?" Alia laughed, her eyes glinting with cold defiance.

-----------------

Two figures, cloaked in shadow, moved swiftly toward Velmorra palace. Alia and Teman were skilled beyond measure, and none of the guards noticed their silent entry into the palace. Aron's chambers were on the left wing of the top floor. Alia entered through a high window, followed closely by Teman. The room was dark. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Aron entered, flanked by a dozen guards. Alia and Teman were surrounded.

"Well, well, well. Is it Queen Alia or Alia, the assassin," Aron sneered. "Did you think you could kill me in my own palace? You will not go alive from here."

"I will still kill you, Aron the serpent," Alia spat. "Even if I fail, the Naqari will know that you killed me, and they will avenge their daughter.."

"Not if she is killed by one of her own," Aron replied with a menacing smile.

Alia turned toward Teman, her suspicions now fully confirmed. "Teman--traitor! You sold your cousin?" she demanded, her voice shaking with disbelief.

"Gold is not cheap, my cousin," Teman replied coldly, pushing his dagger into her chest, piercing her heart. Alia fell, her temper having led her to her doom. Her spirit joined her husband in the afterlife.

"Guards! Kill this man!" Aron bellowed. "He killed Lady Alia before my very eyes."

Several swords fell upon Teman, his eyes wide with fear and surprise as the blows struck him down.

-----------------

News of Alia's visit to Aron, and her companion's betrayal which led to her death at Aron's court, spread like wildfire. There were rumors, but no proof. Alia had indeed been slain with a Naqari dagger, one owned by Teman.

Aida was left in despair, her heart heavy with grief. She wept on Brinna's shoulder. She could not believe that Alia would go to Aron to discuss matters of her marriage. Yet, with her mother gone, Aida found herself alone in a world that no longer felt safe.

"Lord Aron and Grandmaster Calvenor have arrived, my lady," Kael announced.

Aida received them in her study. She was in mourning, but the duchy could not be left in the hands of grief alone.

"Calvenor offers his condolences to Princess Aida. Queen Alia was a fine regent," Calvenor said, his voice tinged with sympathy.

"You need not worry about support at such times, Aida," Aron added, his voice falsely reassuring. "As your uncle, I will offer all manner of assistance to you."

Aron's words stung Aida to her core. Her mother's blood ran in her veins, and she could not remain silent. "What assistance, Lord Aron? Do you offer me to the murderers of my father so that your own lands may be secure? Why not offer your dear Serelis instead? Does she not yearn to live outside of palaces?" she spat, her anger rising.

Aron had not expected such a response. The girl should have been broken, grieving, yet she dared challenge him.

"I will not marry any Flamewood prince. You cannot make me. I would rather die. Let us see how you save your dear Serelis from marrying those savages after my death. What will you say to King Halrix then? Are you willing to challenge him now, Uncle?" Aida dared to laugh in his face.

Aron left Thravenreach, humiliated and very fearful. Aida's defiance could ruin everything.

Calvenor, too, left in worry. He feared that Aida's insolence would be taken as an insult by Baran. A reignited war could destroy all they had worked for. He had to act, and quickly.

He wrote a letter in secret, sending it to Dale Flameborn, the middle son of Baran Flameborn--without his father's knowledge.

Chapter 7

Dale Flameborn had ever been loyal unto his father, yet politics were a field he had often avoided. As a middle son, the throne was not his birthright, save he chose to rebel and challenge his elder brothers. A life of ease was his desire--perhaps to be a merchant or even a humble farmer--but when his father made him join Tharen's unit, he made no protest.

And now, though he made no protest, his heart was heavy. "He might have at least sent word to me beforehand," he muttered, "I have yet to lay my eyes upon any maiden from Aurelia, and yet I am to marry one?"

He cast a gaze upon Maela and Tharen, both of whom bore smiles. "You two are enjoying this, when you ought to console me!"

Maela grinned, unbothered by her brother's discontent. "Though they may lack the passion of southern women, Aurelian ladies are fair indeed. She may yet console you."

"Have ye even read the full letter?" Dale gestured to the missive from Calvenor, which spoke of Aron and Aida's heated quarrel, and Aida's refusal to wed him. "First, it was Princess Serelis, and now Princess Aida. Aurelian noblewomen seem to have no interest in a captain of Flameborn."

Tharen, always the more thoughtful, spoke with care. "Dale, should Princess Aida refuse, all efforts for peace shall be in vain. We must prepare for war."

"What am I to do, then? I accepted Father's decision to marry whoever he ordered. How shall I change Princess Aida's mind?," Dale replied, his voice strained.

Maela, who cared little for the matters of state, waved a hand dismissively. "Perhaps, if you present yourself to her, she may change her mind."

Dale ignored her, his mind set upon the matter at hand. "This deal cannot fail. Tharen, will you carry a letter to Princess Aida? My heart tells me she will accept what I offer her."

"And what is it ye offer?" Maela asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Thravenreach," Dale said with a firm resolve.

Maela's brow furrowed in doubt. "What if Father refuses?"

"Father will not turn away such an offer for a mere Duchy," Dale declared confidently. "He has much to gain."

Tharen and Maela nodded in agreement, for they saw the wisdom in his words.

-----------------

Brinna had just begun to serve breakfast to Princess Aida when a guard entered, bearing news of a messenger from Flamewood. Aida bade him wait before retreating to her study, where she soon met the messenger.

"Princess Aida, I am your humble servant," he said, bowing deeply. He was no mere youth, but a man seasoned by battle, his bearing that of a veteran soldier.

"Who are you, and whom do you serve? You do not look like a mere messenger," Aida remarked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"You are correct, Princess. I am Tharen, a confidant to Captain Dale," the man replied.

"I have no business with you, then," Aida said curtly. "You must speak with Lord Aron regarding this matter."

"Captain Dale has sent me a letter for you," Tharen continued. "He bids me say that he shall accept your decision, whatever it may be, once you have read it."

Aida took the letter, noting the seal before breaking it. She was surprised to see it written in Naqari script.

It read:

Princess Aida of Thravenreach,

I write to you in Naqari, that none may read this save you. Time is fleeting, and a deal is struck between two kings that have the power to halt a long and bloody war. We, you and I, are but pawns in this game. The lives of countless warriors and common folk from both Aurelia and Flamewood rest upon whether we agree to this union. I have heard the songs of your father, Lord Akon. It is said he had ended wars and prevented others, simply through his wisdom and alliances. Now, I ask that you follow in his footsteps.

I swear by my word that your bride-price shall be the Duchy of Thravenreach. You shall remain its Duchess, with full autonomy in all matters. The army of Flamewood shall not enter its borders unless you command so, though it shall fight to protect it should the need arise.

I seek not to rule a Duchy; I only wish to save the lives of my men. I loathe seeing the grief of their wives and children when they fall in battle.

Humbly,

Captain Dale Flameborn, son of Chief Baran Flameborn

Aida read the letter twice, her thoughts swirling before she turned to Tharen. "What more do you bring?"

"Captain Dale bade me bring his ring to you, should you accept his offer. And I am to carry you reply to him, should you choose to send one."

"Give me the ring, and take my reply before you leave, Tharen," Aida commanded, her tone resolute.

"I shall, my lady."

"Tell me, Tharen, are you an honest man?"

"I strive to live well, my lady," he replied.

"Then tell Dale this, should he ask: if he hopes to find a fair maiden from Aurelia upon meeting me, he shall be disappointed. I am no such beauty."

Tharen smiled. "I shall speak naught but the truth, my lady. But I know only one woman whose beauty is beyond compare, and she is already my woman."

Aida smiled at his response and set to writing her letter.

Tharen soon departed with Aida's reply, which read:

Captain Dale Flameborn, son of Chief Baran Flameborn,

I accept your proposal, should you truly offer the bride-price you speak of. I am willing to wear your ring. But let it be known, I am my father's daughter. Though I make this choice to save my Duchy, Flamewood's role in my father's death may never be forgiven.

Humbly,

Princess Aida of Thravenreach

"So, how does she appear?" Maela asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"How is she?" Dale inquired, his voice tinged with anticipation.

Tharen's lips curled into a knowing smile. "She is the one for you."

Chapter 8

Princess Aida penned another letter, brief yet filled with subtlety, agreeing to the terms of Lord Aron's arrangement for her to marry Dale Flameborn of Flamewood. Though her words appeared resigned, they were carefully chosen to mask her true thoughts. By conveying desperation and defeat, she hoped to lull Aron into a false sense of triumph. The serpent would grow complacent, thinking he had won, and she would bide her time.

Aida was not wholly certain that Captain Dale would honor his promise, but she preferred this gamble over entrusting her fate to her treacherous uncle. In her heart, Aida carried a suspicion that Aron, though there was no proof, had a hand in her mother's untimely death. The thought festered within her, but her duty bound her to this decision. She would play the game and see where it led.

When Aron received her letter, his expression was one of triumph. The Duchy of Thravenreach would slip from his grasp, but the blow to the Akon's bloodline was a balm to his wounds. That family had long insulted him, and now he had a measure of revenge.

He wasted no time in sending word to Calvenor that Princess Aida had agreed to wed Dale Flameborn. Calvenor, in turn, relayed the news to King Halrix and Chief Baran, who began preparations for the wedding. He hoped that a grand celebration might shift the people's thoughts from bloodshed and war. Perhaps, in such a moment, the common folk would look to the gods, rather than to the horrors of conflict.

-----------------

Kael, though far removed from the inner workings of Thraven Palace, had always been loyal to Princess Aida. His devotion to her began long before she was crowned, when she was still a mere child, and it had only deepened with time. But there was another matter that stirred his heart more than duty alone--the maid Brinna. He had loved her since they were both children, and it was only through his service to Aida that he was able to remain near her.

On this particular day, Kael returned to his home to find a message left at his doorstep. He was no stranger to the occasional summons from the Princess, but this missive was strange in both its script and its tone. The writing was clumsy, not the work of one well-versed in the elegant Aurelian letters.

The letter read:

Kael, loyal servant of Princess Aida, meet me near the old watchtower ruins. You shall assist your Princess by doing so.

At first, Kael wondered if it were some jest or prank. Yet, curiosity tugged at him, and with it, a sense of duty. Without delay, he set forth for the ruins, hoping to unravel the mystery.

Upon his arrival, he did not have long to wait. A figure approached him swiftly, a hood was placed over his head, and before he could react, he was pulled onto a horse and taken to an unknown destination.

"Do not struggle, Kael son of Karl," said a commanding voice. "We are not here to harm thee. We are friends of thy Princess."

The hood was pulled away, and Kael found himself standing before a group of armed soldiers in an unfamiliar place. Fear seized him, and his heart raced with uncertainty.

The man who had spoken, a towering figure in a captain's uniform, stepped forward. His baritone voice echoed in the silence. "I am Captain Dale of Flamewood. As you are aware, your Princess Aida is my betrothed. I seek your aid in helping her and the Duchy of Thravenreach."

Kael bowed his head in respect. "Captain... My Lord... I am but a humble servant of Princess Aida. I shall not betray her. I am no warrior, yet I would die for her if need be."

Dale's laugh rumbled through the air, deep and hearty. "You are loyal and brave, Kael. But I seek no secrets from you about the Princess. What I ask is simple--should she ever be in dire need, I wish you to inform me. I know her uncle Aron is no friend to her, and he has plotted against her family before. I would see no harm come to her."

Kael's mind raced, understanding what Dale was asking of him.

"If ever the Princess finds herself in need--whether for coin, soldiers, or other aid--come to the old watchtower ruins alone. One of my men shall be there to collect thy message. I pray to the gods it never comes to that. Aida's pride may keep her from seeking help, but I stand as her ally."

A hood was placed once more over Kael's head, and he was escorted back to the ruins, where he was released. Alone in the dark, he considered whether to inform Aida of this strange encounter, or perhaps Brinna, but in the end, he kept the secret to himself.

Chapter 9

The court of Aida was filled with merchants and traders who were voicing their complaints. Their frustrations were near identical -- Velmorra's officials were impeding their business, delaying payments, and blocking certain traders from entering the city. Aida could see the panic in their eyes, and it was no surprise. She shared their anxiety. The Thraven Festival was rapidly approaching. If the trade continued to be disrupted, there would be insufficient supplies for the festival fair. Less trade meant fewer levies, and fewer levies meant empty coffers for Aida. The Duchy would suffer.

Her immediate concern, however, was the grand feast -- a tradition her father had begun and which her mother had continued. It would be the first year without them, and Aida worried it might be the first time in many years without a feast to celebrate. She refused to let that happen.

"Kael, come with me. I must speak with my uncle," Aida said, her voice steady despite the weight of her worries. "Marph, you're in charge here while I'm gone. I should return by the fourth day." Marph bowed and left to handle affairs. Kael immediately set to preparing the horses.

That same day, Aida, Kael, Brinna, and a lone guard departed for Velmorra. Aida knew the encounter would likely be an uncomfortable one, but for the sake of Thravenreach, she would endure the humiliation.

Aron had anticipated Aida's arrival. The obstacles his officials and soldiers had placed before her were all part of his design, and he knew Aida understood this. The naive girl might think she had saved Thravenreach by agreeing to marry Dale, but Aron had been a king since before she suckled at her mother's teats. He would make sure Aida would go down in Thraven history as the Duchess who failed to organize a simple feast.

Despite her rank, Aida was made to wait in the outer court like a commoner. Aron refused to meet with her privately, keeping her standing in front of his court as he dined with his favorite daughter and other courtiers. When she was announced, it was not with the title of Duchess or Princess of Thravenreach, but simply as "Lady Aida."

"Niece Aida, what brings you to my court?" Aron's tone was laced with mockery, his voice cold as he studied her with haughty eyes. Whispers spread through the room, some mocking her, some pitying her, but not a single person dared speak out against the treatment. Aron was a man not to be challenged.

"I come as the Princess of Thravenreach, Lord Aron," Aida replied after curtsying, her voice dignified. "The trade between Thravenreach and Velmorra has been disrupted. With the festival approaching, supplies for my Duchy are dwindling."

"Your Duchy?" Princess Serelis sneered. "The one you're handing over to a savage from the south, along with your body and dignity? To someone who killed your own father?" Some courtiers joined in the laughter. Aron didn't intervene.

The humiliation was sharper than Aida had expected. Her dignity was being torn apart before her own people, and she stood helpless. Brinna, standing at a distance, felt her heart break for Aida. Kael clenched his fists, his anger rising.

"Lord Aron, I appeal to you for old times' sake," Aida continued, keeping her composure despite the insults. "Thravenreach was once part of Velmorra, and still belongs to Aurelia. My father -- your elder brother -- ruled it for many years. We are in need. I've followed your decree and agreed to marry a Flamewood prince. I only ask that you allow my people to enjoy their festival."

Aron's eyes flashed with disdain. "Don't speak of your father in my court," he spat. "He was a coward who didn't deserve even the smallest Duchy. Do you think I don't know why you agreed to marry the Flamewood prince? You think you're keeping Thravenreach safe from me? You are deluded. Go back to your little Duchy, you foolish girl. Velmorra has nothing for you. Tell your people that their Duchess is broke and incapable." His words thundered through the hall.

The court fell silent. Even those who supported Aron felt he had gone too far, but none dared speak up.

Aida left with her head bowed, not a word spoken. She didn't touch a morsel of food or drink during the journey back to Thravenreach. Her face remained blank as she entered her chambers and locked the door behind her, allowing the tears to fall freely.

Brinna, heartbroken, wept silently for her mistress.

Later, Aida called for Brinna and Kael. "Brinna, bring me my jewelry box. Kael, make a public announcement that the feast will go ahead as planned. Tomorrow, take these jewels to any Aurelian city and sell them. I know there are traders in Volham who might be interested, but be careful when haggling."

Brinna's eyes welled with tears. "Aida, no. These jewels belong to your mother. You should wear them at your wedding and pass them down to your daughters one day. There must be another way."

Aida's face hardened, her resolve firm. "My mother is gone, Brinna. We have no time left. Kael, what are you waiting for? Go."

"Yes, my lady," Kael replied quietly, though he knew the gravity of what she was asking. He couldn't allow her to sell her family's heirlooms.

That evening, Kael slipped away to the ruins, hoping that Dale's spies were watching him. Sitting on a rock, he waited, his thoughts conflicted. Suddenly, a hood was pulled over his head, and he was roughly dragged away on horseback.

Dale had heard rumors about Aida's visit to Velmorra and was suspicious when he saw Kael. "What news does Kael, the loyal servant of Princess Aida, bring?" he asked, his voice low and commanding.

"Lord Dale, may I speak with you in private? It concerns the Princess," Kael said.

Dale motioned for everyone to leave, except for a man and a woman standing nearby. "Go ahead. Tell me, is the Princess in danger?"

Kael recounted everything -- the public humiliation Aida had suffered, Serelis's satire, the cruelty of Aron's words, and her plan to sell her mother's jewels to save the festival and her reputation. Dale's face darkened with fury, and the two others with him shared his anger.

"Kael, delay your trip by a day. My sister, Maela, will bring supplies to Thravenreach. These are from our camp, so she'll be there before the sun rises in two days. You will announce the feast as ordered by your Princess. Do not speak of this meeting to anyone. The guard will take you back to where they picked you up."

Kael was blindfolded once again and led away.

The next morning, Brinna was suspicious when she saw Kael still at the palace. "Why aren't you preparing for your journey?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"I need to get my cart fixed," Kael replied smoothly. "How can I bring back supplies without it? I'll collect the jewels when I leave the palace."

Brinna, trusting him, nodded and left him to his tasks.

Chapter 10

As promised by Dale, aid arrived unexpectedly just after the dawn. Brinna rushed into Aida's chamber without so much as a knock. "Arise, Lady Aida. A convoy cometh from the Flamewood Forest."

At least she did address her correctly.

Aida, surprised by the news, ignored Brinna's impertinence and rose swiftly. Brinna helped her dress in haste, and she went to the balcony. Soon, a guard appeared.

"Princess Aida, a convoy from Flamewood seeks permission to enter the boundaries of Thravenreach. It is led by a woman who claims to be sent by Captain Dale Flameborn."

"Let them pass. Escort them to the palace," Aida said, her voice tinged with surprise at the mention of a woman leading the convoy.

Soon, a number of horse-drawn carts and Flamewood guards entered the courtyard. The leader was a fierce and formidable woman clad in leather and armor. She carried a sword, her presence commanding. She dismounted her steed and approached Aida.

"May I have the honor of speaking with Princess Aida?" she asked, her words faltering in the Aurelian tongue.

"I am Aida, Duchess of Thravenreach. You may speak in the tongue of Flamewood, for I am familiar with it. Pray, who are you, and what business brings you here with your guards?"

The leader bowed once before switching to the Flamewood tongue. "I thank you for receiving me, Princess Aida. I am Maela Ashclaw, Captain of the Flamewood army and sister to Captain Dale. I bear gifts from my brother. Am I permitted to enter the palace and speak with thee in private?"

Aida blushed slightly. "Yes. Where are my manners? Pray, come inside, Lady Maela. You are most welcome in Thravenreach."

Within Aida's study, it was just she and Maela. Brinna served refreshments to Maela before leaving them to assist Kael, who was arranging rest for Maela's guards and horses.

"Why bring these gifts, Lady Maela? I am yet unwed to Captain Dale," Aida inquired.

"It is a custom in Flamewood to gift the bride before marriage," Maela lied. "This is not thy bride-money, Princess Aida. That, Dale will pay after the wedding, as he has promised."

"The manner in which you speak of him does show a great affection for your brother."

"I am his favored sister, and he is mine."

"When I marry Captain Dale, you would be my sister, Lady Maela? Wouldn't you?"

"You are correct, Princess Aida."

"Then, would you allow me to call you Maela, and you may call me Aida from henceforth?"

"As you ask, Aida."

"Maela, I thank you and your brother for these generous gifts."

"Thanks for accepting them, Aida."

"I knew not of this Flamewood custom of gifting a future bride. There is much I have yet to learn. Would you stay, Maela, and attend our annual feast as our royal guest? I would fain spend time with you to learn more of Flamewood."

Maela smiled and agreed. "Aye, I shall stay."

Then, to Aida's astonishment, Maela hugged her. "Here is the first custom for you to learn, Aida. In Flamewood, sisters hug when they are pleased, and I am pleased to be your guest."

A shocked Aida hesitated but then graciously accepted the hug.

The gifts Maela had brought included sacks of grain, baskets of fruits and fish, jars of honey, game meat, casks of rum, and bundles of candles. It must have cost Captain Dale a princely sum. The duchy celebrated the festival with much revelry, enjoying a feast to remember. There were dances, drinking, and merriment, along with jugglers, bards, clowns, and musicians. For a time, Aida forgot the troubles that lay ahead of her. She watched as Kael and Brinna danced together, exchanging a discreet kiss, and she laughed, wondering if she would ever do the same with Captain Dale.

During the evening dinners for the elders and clan chiefs, Maela sat beside Aida at the head of the table. Aida made a toast to her, and all approved. "To the royal guest who hath brought hope and friendship. To the brave and industrious people of Thravenreach. To the memory of Lord Akon and Lady Alia."

The elders cheered. Word of Aron's treatment of Aida had insulted all of Thravenreach, and they were glad to see Aida leading them in such dire times.

---------------

Aron, however, received news of Maela's intervention and was not pleased. Yet, he decided to play a dangerous game--one which, if successful, could bring him great fortune, or, should he fail, might harm him not too greatly.

Aron's spy entered a shadowy tavern in Naqari, a haven for washed-up assassins--those with no morals and few prospects. He approached a few and offered them scores of gold coins. His task: to follow Maela from Thravenreach back to her camp and to slay her and her brother, Captain Dale, laying the blame at the feet of King Halrix of Aurelia.

Even the scoundrels of Naqari were loath to take such a job. The killing of a chieftain without the Naqari chief's permission was a death sentence--one far too painful to contemplate. Moreover, many still suspected Aron's involvement in the death of Alia, a daughter of Naqari.

Yet, some men would do anything for gold, ale, and women. Aron's spy paid them half the fee and left, his plan set in motion.

---------------

Maela enjoyed her stay at Aida's palace, and Aida enjoyed Maela's company. Though Aida was clever, Maela, despite being a warrior, was no fool herself. Both women observed and learned much from one another.

Maela discovered that while Aida was no fair maiden, she was a learned and very intelligent woman. Aida, in turn, learned that Flamewood was home to many women warriors, who fought proudly alongside their men, willing to die if needs be. She also learned that Maela, like many men, enjoyed rum and cared little for dressing up.

"She slept naked in her bed, Aida. She even walked in the garden without covering her breasts! Thank the gods, there was none other around at that moment." Brinna was scandalized and could not stop complaining, much to Aida's amusement and mild irritation.

When Maela departed Thravenreach, her convoy was followed by two armed men, lurking in the shadows, maintaining a safe distance.

Chapter 11

"Aida--arise," whispered Brinna into her ear.

Aida stirred groggily, for she had gone to rest most late. Brinna stood beside her, clad in a nightgown, bearing a single flickering candle.

"Brinna, this had best be of great urgency," Aida muttered, rubbing her eyes, "else I shall make you mop every chamber in the palace come morning."

"Your cousin Tarka has come. He awaits you in your study. He claims a matter most urgent, and demands you hear it straightaway."

"Did you leave him alone in my study? Brinna, you know well he is a thief!" Aida sprang from her bed, unbothered by her state of undress before Brinna, for the two had been as sisters since childhood.

"I left him in the company of a guard," Brinna replied hastily, offering Aida her a robe.

"You know he is a trained assassin as well?" Aida wrapped herself in the robe and hurried from her chamber.

To her relief, the guard still breathed, unharmed. Tarka, it seemed, had come not to kill or steal--at least not this night. He was among the few of her mother's kin whom Aida tolerated.

"Tarka. Late is the hour," she said curtly, dismissing the guard with a wave of her hand. If Tarka bore tidings, they were meant for her ears alone.

"Aida, cousin mine. Glad am I to see you," Tarka said with a smirk. "I hear you are to wed a chief of Flamewood?"

"He is but a captain," Aida said, arching a brow. "Speak plain, Tarka. What do you seek? If you have come for coin, know that I face mine own troubles, and a woman does not share her bride-money."

"I know it well," Tarka said. "The Naqaris suffer worse hardships now that both Flamewood and Aurelia turn their gaze upon us. Yet blood still matter to some of us... even half-blood."

"Say your piece, Tarka." Aida had always hated being called half-blood.

"A pair of rogue Naqaris follow the Flamewood convoy that departed your palace this eve. Rumor says that a princess of Flamewood ride with that company. I know not what the pair intend. They shall not attack, for they are but two. Your uncle sought to buy more of our kind, but some of us still honor our kin--be it even half."

Aida stood in silence, stunned. The news was both confusing and grave. What could two assassins hope to accomplish against a convoy of Flamewood elite, led by Maela herself? She would need counsel, and quickly.

"Here, Tarka. I thank you for this," she said at last, tossing him three silver coins.

Tarka caught them without shame. "Three? Is that all?"

"Add it to the gold brooch you stole during your last visit," Aida replied coolly. "Be glad I am not flogging you for stealing from your kin."

A spark of her Naqari blood glinted in her eye, though her tone remained composed. Tarka, reading the warning within her words, dared not argue. With a nod, he turned on his heel and vanished into the shadows.

Chapter 12

Aida summoned Brinna and Kael to her chamber, and forthwith did she recount all that Tarka had revealed.

"What could such men hope to achieve by trailing the convoy?" Brinna wondered aloud, her brow furrowed with concern.

"My lady Aida," Kael spoke with hesitation, "might they seek to strike at Lord Dale?"

"How should they reach Lord Dale by trailing his sister?" Aida questioned, puzzled.

"They are camped together... in the same encampment," Kael confessed, reluctantly.

"And how, pray, do you know this, Kael?" Brinna asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

"Lady Aida," Kael said nervously, "may I speak in confidence--and without fear of the death penalty?"

"What do you speak of, Kael? No man is put to death save for murder or high treason--" Aida halted, her eyes widening as realisation struck. "Are you a spy? Was it my uncle who hired you? Did you sell yourself for gold, Kael?"

"This is false... is it not, Kael?" Brinna's voice trembled, filled with both fury and sorrow.

Kael fell to his knees. "My lady--I have never bartered my loyalty for gold. Never would I endanger thee. I am thy most loyal servant. Lord Dale asked that I inform him should you find yourself in need. I spoke to him only of the coming Thraven festival, and Lord Aron's refusal to provide supplies. I swear I have done nothing else. If I lie, may I be boiled alive."

Aida realised now why Maela brought those gifts. But Brinna was mad--she lunged at Kael, her rage unrestrained.

"Traitor!" she cried. "You betrayed my lady! Did you use me too? I swear I shall--"

She would have torn him limb from limb had Aida not pulled her back. "Enough, Brinna. I still have use of him."

Brinna shoved Kael to the floor and kicked him once in the ribs before she stepped away. "May you rot, filthy cur."

"Kael," Aida said coldly, "what precisely did Lord Dale say to you when you sent word regarding the festival?"

"He said he could not come himself, but that he would ask his sister to bear the supplies from their camp directly. He said drawing from their cities would take too long. So when Lady Maela arrives at the camp, the spies shall learn Lord Dale's whereabouts. I fear... I fear he is their true mark."

Aida felt dread rise within her like a tide, her legs faltering beneath her. Brinna caught her and eased her into a seat.

"Aida, you are as pale as death. Let me fetch you some water," Brinna offered, already turning to leave.

"Nay, wait," Aida said urgently. "I must speak with you about something most dire."

She turned to Kael. "I shall not punish you. If you truly believe yourself guiltless, you shall remain in the city, speak naught of this conversation, and send no word to Lord Dale. Now begone."

Kael bowed low, the weight of shame heavy on his shoulders, and departed in silence.

Once he had gone, Aida bade Brinna shut the door and come close.

"My uncle shall soon learn of my meeting with Tarka. He shall watch me closely, should I attempt to send word to Dale. I trust none here--none but you, Brinna. I require aid. Someone must ride like a tempest and find a Flamewood encampment--there to beg audience with Lord Dale. This ring shall serve as token and protection."

She removed Dale's ring from her finger and held it forth. "What do you say?"

"I say I shall do whatever you ask of me, Aida. My life is yours to command," said Brinna, fierce in her loyalty.

That very night, a lone rider departed through a secret door and vanished into the southern forest, swift as lightning beneath the cloak of stars.

"Did I glimpse Brinna, the lady's maid, riding with haste just now?" mused a guard atop a watchtower a mile distant. Little did he know it was Aida herself, cloaked in Brinna's garb.

Later that night, when Kael came once more to seek forgiveness, Brinna met him at the door and barred his entry.

"Lady Aida is unwell, stricken with grief at thy betrayal. She needs rest," Brinna snapped, her rage still fresh.

"I am wounded, Kael," she continued bitterly. "You know I love Aida. She is not merely my mistress--she is my own childhood friend. I had hoped you would be the one for me. Now... I know not."

Kael's face was a portrait of heartbreak.

"But I love you still, Kael," Brinna whispered, her eyes wet with tears. "I shall grant you one more chance. Swear to me--never again shall you keep secrets from me."

"Never, my dear Brinna," Kael vowed, reaching for her hand.

She pulled away--then, suddenly, seized him by the collar and kissed him with a fervent passion, biting his lower lip.

"Now go. Let Aida rest... and pray Lord Dale comes to no harm," she said, closing the door firmly in his face.

Chapter 13

The sentries had spotted a rider thundering through the skies with unnatural speed, as though the very wind bore them forward. Though the guards were many, it took no small effort to halt the figure, for the horse moved with the fury of a storm.

To their surprise, it was a girl they pulled down from the saddle--a rare sight, though not unheard of in days of war. Her garb bore no mark of Flamewood, and the use of women by spies and assassins was not uncommon. Flamewood itself had no shortage of women warriors and captains. Thus, the guards took no risk.

They seized her with little ceremony, dragging her through the sodden earth toward a nearby outpost. Her cloak and visage were smeared with the forest's offerings--mud, leaf, and rain. Her wrists were bound with coarse rope, yet her chin remained aloft, her voice unyielding.

"Summon your captain. I bear a message of grave importance for Captain Dale--from Calvenor himself," she declared, eyes fierce.

The head guard sneered. "You shall speak to no one, girl. Deliver your message to me, and I shall judge its worth."

"I may not share my words with any but the Captain. Delay shall bring mortal peril upon your lord. I am no foe."

"You dare threaten the Captain?" he growled, clutching her collar.

"I carry Captain Dale's ring. Look well and see."

Though her hands were bound, she angled her wrist as best she could. The head guard's eyes narrowed as he glimpsed the signet--a ring borne only by the chief and his kin. His frown deepened.

"Fetch Captain Tharen at once. Take this ring. Blindfold her--she must see naught of our camp."

The ring was taken from her finger, and a hood drawn over her head.

Captain Tharen arrived in no time. "Who is this?"

"We found her near the old ridge trail," a guard explained. "Riding hard, she was. Claims she brings a message from Calvenor to Captain Dale. Likely a spy--but she bore this ring."

Tharen stepped forth and studied the captive. A feeling stirred in him when he saw the ring.

"Wait. Remove the hood."

As the cloth was pulled away, torchlight caught dark red hair, storm-filled eyes, and a noble countenance glowering with fury.

Tharen's voice dropped to a whisper, both stunned and reverent. "By the silver roots... 'tis her. Aida of Tharvenreach. Loosen her bonds at once."

Gasps rippled through the soldiers. The head guard scrambled to obey, his hands trembling as he undid the cords.

Moments later, as the humbled guards stood in silence, a woman burst into the tent with a tall man close behind. He wore hardened leather and bore the bearing of command. His eyes locked with Aida's--and in that moment, both knew.

He was Dale.

His gaze swept over her--at the bruises blooming on her wrists, the torn cloak, the mud-stained skin. Rage lit within him.

"Who dared lay hands upon her?" he thundered.

Maela, already tending to Aida's wounds, looked up in alarm. But Aida's voice rang firm.

"Captain Dale, I beg you--spare your soldiers. They knew not it was I, your betrothed, who rode this night. They merely followed the ways of war. But I must speak with you at once, and in private."

Dale dismissed all save Maela and Tharen. He turned to Aida with a deep bow and knelt before her.

"My lady, I ask your forgiveness for their conduct. They meant no disrespect."

He gestured to those beside him. "You have met them already--Maela, my beloved sister. And Tharen, my comrade and her husband. They are to be trusted."

Aida did not waste time. "Naqari assassins draw near. They follow Lady Maela's convoy. They know your camp's location and believe you vulnerable now that a peace has been signed between Aurelia and Flamewood. But these are rogue Naqari--no order was given by their chief. You are in peril. Move the camp, I pray you, for your sake and hers."

Dale stared at her, astonished. "You came alone... to warn me?"

Aida's voice turned colder. "Whom could I trust? Even Kael--my own companion--was turned to spying. I seek not the fall of this peace, nor the return of war. Nor will I see harm come to you. My father believed in ending war before its first trumpet call. You, too, carry that flame. You must live."

Dale rose, stepped closer, and held out the ring once taken from her. "Then take this back--with all my gratitude."

Their exchange was swift, yet potent. Dale pressed for the name of the one who had hired the assassins, but Aida would not say. Still, he understood her silence. Before she departed, Maela wrapped her in a fresh cloak, and both Tharen and the head guard gave their apologies.

Aida cast one last glance over her shoulder. Dale stood tall at the edge of camp, hand upon his heart as he watched her leave.

Escorted by Flamewood guards, Aida was led through a hidden path that wound quietly into the wild. By Dale's orders, they were not to cross into Tharvenreach. This time, no hood was drawn over her eyes.

And as Aida looked upon the narrow, unguarded trail, she marvelled at how easily Flamewood could have brought ruin upon her homeland--had Dale wished it.

Back at the new camp, hidden deep within the woods, Dale sat pouring hot water into a dented iron cup. Tharen and Maela lounged beside him.

"Well, brother," Maela said, smirking, "how did you find your bride?"

"I laid eyes upon her but once... yet I cannot put it to words. A storm dwelt in her gaze. She is... astonishing."

Maela laughed. "Tharen, you never spoke of me in such terms. Yet here is Dale waxing poetic like a bard."

Tharen chuckled. "So our captain believes in love at first sight now? Careful, friend. That storm may yet love you back--or drown you whole."

Their laughter faded as they retired to their tents. Dale remained, lost in thought beneath the rustling boughs.

That night he dreamt of the red of her hair, the steel of her spirit, the brilliance of her mind.

Yes. She was everything. And yes--it was love at first sight for him.

Chapter 14

Dale was not born a warrior.

He bore the bloodline--middle son to Chief Baran Flamewood--but not the flame. His spirit, in youth, burned not for blade nor battle. Yet war cares little for one's inclinations. When the time came, Baran summoned his most seasoned captain, Tharen Vohl, a man forged in the fires of a dozen campaigns, and bade him train his son to bear arms with honour.

Tharen was less than pleased. "I am no nursemaid for princelings," he grumbled, but a chief's word is no light thing to deny.

Thus, Dale came to the camp--older than most recruits, and far less eager. His younger sister, Maela Ashclaw, already blooded in battle, delivered him to Tharen's charge. Whispers stirred like wind among the soldiers.

"Soft hands. Soft heart." they said.

Tharen neither whispered nor waited. He set to work.

He made no special provision for the chiefling. The sword, after all, shows no favour to rank--it cuts chief and footman alike. But Tharen did not wield cruelty either. He understood: Dale followed his father's bidding, just as he himself did. And so, they toiled under the same command.

Tharen soon took measure of the lad.

Dale trained harder than any. He spoke not a word in protest when corrected. He bore his bruises with pride. He showed honour even to the lowliest squires. He laughed at his own failures, endured the mockery of his brothers-in-arms, and returned each day to try again.

He was not gifted. But gods, he was relentless.

His only solace was Maela. She came often--fierce and proud--to ask after his progress, always questioning Tharen with sharp eyes and sharper tongue. Dale endured each bruise, each stumble, and with each patrol, each skirmish, he grew--not quickly, but steadily. Battle by battle, season by season, the princeling shaped himself into a soldier.

And Tharen watched.

Somewhere between the third ambush and the fourth winter campaign, the grizzled captain found himself no longer calling the lad "princeling."

He began calling him "Captain."

One evening, as the wind howled beyond the tents, Tharen and Dale shared dried meat over a humble fire.

"Strange family, thine," Tharen mused. "Never seen your father, mother, nor brothers at any muster or victory. Yet your sister--she always comes. The fierce one."

Dale chuckled. "You are loyal, Tharen. But, gods, you are blind."

"Blind, am I?"

"Aye. Maela's not coming to see me."

Tharen frowned. "Then why does she--?"

Dale grinned. "She comes for you, Captain."

Tharen blinked. "But why?"

Dale leaned back, laughter on his lips. "You are a man, and she a woman. Must I spell it out for you, soldier?"

Tharen stiffened. "With all due respect to your father, I've no wish for kinship with the chief's house. I am a footsoldier born of farmers."

"Then say it to her face," Dale said, still amused. "She was born of an Ashclaw womb. Even the fiercest Amazons give our mother's folk a wide berth. If you will not stop her with words, she shall not stop pursuing you."

That night, Tharen lay wakeful, recalling every visit--how Maela would stay long after her questions were answered, watching his face as he spoke. How she came not clad in battle-wear, but in neat garb, her hair combed with care. Perhaps Dale was not jesting after all.

With newfound courage, he approached her.

"I am not deft with riddles or hints," he began, his tone rough, plain as any soldier. "Your brother had to explain it to me. What is it you seek, Captain Maela?"

Maela met his eyes, steady as the moon. "A husband," she said, without pause or pretense.

Tharen stared. "I am older than you. I come from a humble hearth, not noble blood."

"And yet you are strong," she replied, "and you are the renowned Captain Tharen, entrusted with the training of the chief's son."

"I have no palace."

"I have no need of one," she said. "Let me ride with thy unit, as thy second, if you will have me."

"To have a goddess besides me would be my fortune" Tharen pulled her into his arms. Yet Maela, ever the quicker, draped herself on him first--bold and full of fire.

Their kiss unfolded in the training yard, before all of Flamewood's warriors, who let out a cheer fit to shake the heavens. Dale stood among them, a smile on his face and pride in his eyes. His favourite sister had found her joy.

The next morning, Maela informed her father and mother of her intent. Chief Baran was less than pleased. He had long schemed to wed her to a western chieftain, to forge alliance through blood. But Maela was her mother's daughter--of the Ashclaw line, where women chose their own mates.

When Baran beheld the steel in her eyes, and learned it was Dale who had brokered the match, he gave his blessing.

Tharen was welcomed into the Flamewood household. And Dale gained not only a loyal brother-in-arms, but a brother of the heart.

Chapter 15

The rogue assassins never made it past Tharen's perimeter.

Dale and Maela had long since left the camp--after much protest. Tharen would not suffer the Chief's son, nor his own beloved wife, to be anywhere near peril. He set his elite guard to give the illusion that Dale yet lay asleep in his tent, his form suggested by careful staging.

By dawn, both assassins lay dead in the heather--cut down swiftly. They had no chance against Tharen's men in the open. Their bodies were buried in the bog, along with their curved daggers, never to be found again. Tharen sent swift word to Chief Baran of the breach.

Far south, in Velmorra, Lord Aron seethed. Someone had warned Dale. But who? Could it have been Aida? Impossible. No noble lady could ride that fast through the wildwood unseen. There had been no movement of messengers, no stir among the Thravenreach guards.

Brinna had played her part to perfection. None--not even Kael--had suspected that Aida's chamber had been empty. For days, the maid had played both roles: sickly noble and devoted handmaiden.

Meanwhile, Maela rode with haste to the Temple of Stone in Aenlor, bearing a formal complaint of Aron's treachery. Calvenor, guardian of the pact, was livid. He dispatched a letter to Lord Aron--gentle in tone, but laced with threat.

Should Aron interfere again, Calvenor vowed, he would take the matter directly to King Halrix. And though the King yet wore blindfolds to his cousin's darker dealings, he would not stomach betrayal during peace parleys.

Frightened and cornered, Lord Aron stepped back--for now.

Baran, never one to loosen his grip once he had the upper hand, was swift to act. Informed by Dale of Aida's warning, he made a new demand. The marriage, he declared, would no longer take place in Velmorra. It must be on neutral ground.

"No armies," he ordered. "No banners. No shows of strength. Only the bride, the groom, the kings--and the gods."

King Halrix, intrigued and wary, agreed. Calvenor offered his own Temple of Stone, hidden deep within the sacred forest--untouched by war, and hallowed by every realm of the North and South.

---------------

The skies were clear the day they wed.

Aida walked beneath the high pines clad in Naqari silk, blue and silver flowing like water. The cut of her gown, its folds and weaves, whispered of her mother's people. Upon her brow rested the crown of Thravenreach--her father's crown, cold as winter frost beneath the sun.

She looked like a lady of peace, and yet regal with quiet defiance. She refused the veil. Nobles on both sides muttered at that. Aron clenched his jaw when he saw the crown she bore.

Dale arrived dressed in the formal garb of Flamewood--a dark crimson coat edged in gold, sword belted but unsheathed. He looked every inch the warrior: calm, poised, sharpened by discipline. And yet, as he saw Aida, something warmer stirred in his gaze.

Calvenor raised his hands. The old rites began, echoing beneath the stone columns.

When the moment came to speak their vows, Dale stepped forward, voice steady and clear, and spoke in the ancient tongue of Flamewood:

"I vow to be enemy to your enemies,

Friend to your friends,

Shield to your blood,

And storm to those who seek your ruin."

It was a warrior's oath--never spoken by nobles, but Dale meant every word of it.

Aida answered him in the Thravenreach dialect of old Aurelian, her voice quiet, but unshaken:

"I vow to stand beside you when you lead,

Hold you when you falter,

And be your home when the world turns away."

They sealed the bond beneath the twin flames, linking hands as Brinna and her fellow maids cast scented petals into the wind.

There was no feast, no revelry--only matters of state. Before the flame, Baran and Halrix signed the treaty, binding the North and South under the eyes of gods. Then, together, they raised their right hands and gave their blessing to the couple.

Calvenor proclaimed them Duke Dale Flameborn and Duchess Aida Dale of Thravenreach.

Scattered applause echoed through the temple, half-hearted and uncertain. All knew this was a wedding of state, not of hearts.

Later, Aida found herself presented with a host of strange gifts from Dale--gems from far coasts, fine linens, gold-threaded belts, rings, leatherworks from Flamewood's deep workshops and a sealed envelope. She understood little of them, for they were foreign to her Aurelian sensibilities.

As they stood alone for the first time, Dale's voice dropped.

"I must return to the field. Flamewood stirs with unrest. My father needs me yet."

Aida's eyes met his--heavy with thought, not resentment. "I understand," she said softly.

He placed a hand over hers. "The sealed letter is yours. It confirms that the Duchy of Thravenreach shall be yours to command--as part of your bride-gift. Flamewood may be seen as cruel and wild, but we are never oath-breakers."

Aida lifted her chin. "You need not set spies upon me, Lord Dale. Kael told me of your request. I know you meant to protect--but I would rather you did not. Should your wife require aid, she will ask it herself."

Dale bowed his head. "I regret it deeply. I feared Aron would harm you. Please do not punish Kael. His heart is loyal, and he is in love with your maid, Brinna. He acted from concern, not deceit."

"I have already forgiven him and I thank you for the assistance provided then," she replied, her crown tilting as she nodded.

Later, as the two parties departed--Aida eastward with her handmaids and guards, Dale westward with the riders of Flamewood--she found her hand resting on the ring he had given her.

Peace reigned between North and South--for now.

Chapter 16

It did not take long for Aida to accept the truth she had long tried to ignore--without Velmorra's trade routes and resources, Thravenreach would wither.

Lord Aron had, until now, permitted limited trade between the North and the South, always harbouring hope that the duchy would one day return to the motherland. He had no doubt in the shipbuilders of Thravenreach, for their craftsmanship was unmatched. He had even heard whispers of mines in the northern mountains yielding rare gems--a tale no one had confirmed, yet no one dared dismiss.

But with Thravenreach now severed, he had no desire to spend even a single copper on a land that was no longer his to claim.

Princess Aida had been raised with frugality and grace. She was content to trim her palace's expenses, letting the gardens grow wild and turning away merchants selling silk and gold. Yet even her resourcefulness could not shield her people for long. Without a plan, hunger would follow. She loathed the thought of asking Dale for aid--not from pride alone, but from the fear he might think himself taken advantage of. And yet, by marrying her, he was Duke of Thravenreach, even if only in title.

And so, she penned a letter--short, formal, but with a subtle plea stitched within the folds of courtly phrasing:

"Your duchy awaits your presence, my lord. As do the people. As do I. Some troubles need a Duke more than a Captain."

It was neither command nor decree--but an invitation. Dale read it and understood at once.

Word had reached him of Velmorra guards blocking Thravenreach traders at the border, even seizing their boats. It was not yet a matter to drag kings into war--but the seeds of conflict were stirring beneath the soil. And Dale did not wish kings involved, lest another war bloom in a different form.

He entrusted the command of his army camp to Tharen, as he had done many times before, and departed within the day.

A week after the letter reached him, Dale arrived at the borders of Thravenreach--not with pomp, but with a modest, disciplined company of Flamewood soldiers. They made camp just beyond the duchy's gates, at his order. He had promised Aida that this land would remain hers; he would not have it said that a southern army crossed the border now that she was wed to a Flamewood man.

Dale approached the gate alone, save for a single guard. Though he feared no man, he dismounted and addressed the Thraven guards with courtesy:

"I seek the lady's leave to enter her lands and see her."

Aida had just stepped from her bath, water glistening in her hair, when Brinna burst in unbidden.

"Aida--Captain Dale awaits at the border!" she gasped. "One of the guards came running."

For once, Aida did not scold her maid for lacking decorum. She flung a cloak over her shoulders and strode to the door.

"Ready a room for your lord. Have a bath prepared. Lay out breakfast on the table. Guard--hand over your horse."

Without waiting, she mounted and rode like wind to the gates.

She flushed--half in annoyance, half in admiration--when she saw Dale standing patiently on foot, hands clasped behind him. His lone guard stood a few paces behind.

"Welcome to your duchy, my lord," she said, curtsying low, her hair still damp beneath her hood.

Dale smiled at the sight of her. Before he could speak, she turned to the captain of the guards, her voice sharp.

"I hope this is the last time my husband and your Duke is stopped at our gate."

The guards, not accustomed to her wrath, paled and bowed low.

But Dale interjected gently. "Lady Aida, forgive them--it was I who bade them wait for your word. They are loyal to you."

In that moment, he earned the silent respect of every man on the wall.

As they rode back side by side, Aida cast a sideways glance at him.

"I pray, my lord, that you shall not again make your wife greet you in informal dress, atop a guard's horse. This duchy is yours as much as mine."

"Understood, Lady Aida," Dale said, bowing slightly.

He was surprised, though not displeased, to find a room and a steaming bath already prepared for him. He wasted little time and joined Aida for breakfast.

"Brinna," Aida said, rising as he entered, "we must speak in private. Ensure no interruptions until I call for you. Also, send meat, cheese, and rum to the soldiers camped outside--my lord's men have ridden far and must be hungry."

"My thanks, Lady Aida," Dale said, touched. As the maid curtsied and left, he added, "You are most kind."

"They rode beside you. That is reason enough," Aida said as she poured him wine. "But before I begin--may I ask one favour?"

"Anything, my lady."

"Please call me Aida and allow me to call you Dale. At least when we're alone. My parents never used titles in private. It feels... cold."

She handed him the wineglass.

"But you are a lady--the finest I've ever met."

"You mock me, my lord."

"I do not," he replied sincerely. "You are the first noblewoman I've spoken with beyond the field of battle. Yet the tales say the ladies of the North, especially from Aurelia, are full of grace. They also say they're quick with their tongues."

"And what else do your tales whisper about Aurelia's ladies?" Aida asked, smiling slightly.

"Songs speak of their beauty. But I know little beyond stories. I'm a soldier. I fight, kill, and bury the fallen."

"You do not enjoy it?"

"Only a monster would enjoy killing. I do what duty demands. But you... you do not like me for being a warrior, do you?"

"It matters not. We are wed. My mother taught me to honour my husband. And you are mine."

"Then let us speak no more of doubt. We are Aida and Dale," Dale said gently. "Tell me why you summoned me."

"It was no summons, Dale," she said softly. "I seek your help. Velmorra has sealed all trade since Thravenreach became Flamewood's in name. I do not know how to restore our economy."

"You have a plan, I presume. You always do." He reached for her hand. "Tell me. I'll aid you--as husband, and as Duke. Not in name, but in deed."

She squeezed his hand. It was small, soft, but sure in its grip. Dale thought she may not match the courtly image of beauty sung in halls, but she was wiser than any king he'd met.

That evening, the town square came alive.

Banners of Thravenreach and Flamewood fluttered side by side. The scent of roasted game filled the air. Villagers gathered with wide eyes and cautious hope. They had come to see the Duke.

Kael, newly named commander of the city watch, stepped forward.

"Behold your Duke and your Princess! Thravenreach stands proud, for Flamewood stands with sword and shield by her side!"

The cheers that followed were not thunderous--but they were true.

Aida and Dale sat side by side at the head of the long table. Their hands entwined as they raised their goblets. Elders, guards, and villagers drank to their health.

That night, beneath a sky strewn with starlight, Aida stood in her chamber doorway.

"Would you join me, my lord?" she asked softly.

Dale looked at her, long and steady. "This alliance is political, Aida. You do not yet care for me. I can wait to share your bed until you do."

She turned her gaze away, wounded, but grateful for his honesty.

"And if I never forget that Flamewood's blade took my father from me?"

"I shall bear that, too," he said quietly.

She did not invite him again that night. But sleep did not come easily to her. She prayed for wisdom.

At dawn, Dale met with the revered boatmaker clans--the descendants of the famed shipwrights of old.

Before the council and Aida herself, he made his declaration:

"Flamewood commissions two warships for her navy. Use your finest wood, your finest hands. Each shall carry a hundred men and twenty horses. I pay in full, in advance. The Lady herself vouches for your craft."

He cast a heavy pouch of gold at the patriarch's feet.

The old man trembled. He dropped to one knee before Aida, tears in his eyes.

"You have given us back our pride, my Lady. The river shall sing your name."

Later, when the pact was sealed in fire and ink, Aida turned to Dale.

"May I name the two ships?"

He nodded. "Your duchy, my lady. I would be honoured."

"Then let the first be called Baran. The second, Akon."

Dale was silent for a moment. Then he bowed low, once more humbled by the woman he had married.

Chapter 17

Dale departed upon the morrow. Aida rode with him as far as the border gate, her hand raised in farewell, her eyes lingering.

"Will you return soon?" she asked, her voice soft as dusk. It was both a question and a plea.

"As soon as duty grants me leave--and as often as I may," he replied. "I have been tasked with subduing the tribes of the southern valleys."

He spoke the truth, though carefully. He did not name the Naqari, for he knew well that Aida's mother hailed from their blood. These were not mere tribes--they were shadows in the hills, kin to the assassins who once sought his life and Maela's.

Aida met his gaze and said naught of what she understood. Yet fear, cold and coiled, nestled in her heart. She had saved him once--would she be able to do so again, if need arose? The Naqari were many things, but above all--they were unyielding. Of this she was certain, for her mother had been as iron wrapped in silk.

"This land is thy duchy also, Dale," she whispered. "Forget it not. The people have accepted thee, and speak of thee with glad tongues. They see hope in the return of shipwright hammers, and they know who lit the fires of industry anew."

Dale kissed her hand reverently, then swung upon his steed and rode away. Aida stood long after he was gone, the wind lifting her cloak. A sudden ache settled in her chest. She missed him already.

The hunt through the valleys proved fruitless. The Naqari did not strike--they vanished. Elusive as smoke, they watched, waited, and whispered through the trees, but met Dale's company with silence, not steel.

Two weeks passed before Dale once more crossed into Thravenreach. At the gate he was greeted by Kael, who bore strange tidings.

"My lord," Kael said, "Lady Aida has left the duchy. She rides into the valleys."

Dale froze. "The valleys? But those lands are riddled with blades in shadow. Did she ride alone?"

"Brinna is with her, as always," Kael said with calm assurance. "She goes not as Princess of Thravenreach, but as daughter of the Naqari. I believe she shall come to no harm."

He extended a folded note. The parchment was thick, the ink bold, the lettering unmistakably hers--Flamewood script, graceful and elegant.

"My dearest Dale,

I have gone to the southern valleys--

Not as a ruler, not as thy wife--

But as my mother's daughter."

Dale's lips curved with solemn pride. He understood well the meaning between the lines.

Aida's passage into the valley was both a return and a reckoning. The land remembered her mother's footfalls, and the people remembered her eyes--eyes like dusk over still water, calm but deep with fire. Her name was spoken with reverence, yet suspicion followed each step.

To bring tidings of a husband from Flamewood was no small thing.

She stood before the Naqari matriarch--an elder of stone and smoke, with silver braids and eyes sharp from a lifetime of loss. Beside her stood the chief, eldest son of Alia's cousin, his frame taut with war-born silence.

Aida lowered her head in respect, then raised her voice, steady as a river's course.

"I ask not for myself," she said. "But for the man I have chosen. He bears no hatred--only duty. He is a soldier, not a butcher. As Alia's daughter, I entreat you--let there be peace. For him. For our children yet unborn. For me."

Then she turned her gaze to the matriarch, her voice trembling only at the edges.

"You once nursed my mother, and knew the joy of feeding thine own. Let me know that joy as well--let me nurse my child, a child of both worlds, from the man I love, when the time comes."

The fire crackled, casting long shadows. The chief rose with the weight of age and judgment.

"You carry your mother's spirit in full," he said, his voice low as thunder. "For that--and that alone--you and the man you love shall walk unmolested beneath Naqari skies. Our blades shall not seek his blood, if he seeks not ours."

Aida bowed in deep gratitude, but she was not yet done.

"I offer two longboats, born of Thravenreach's reborn shipyards, as gift to my people. Let them sail--not to raid--but to roam free. And with them, I pledge this: no Flamewood shall give chase upon the rivers again."

The matriarch regarded her long and grave. "You may return to our lands when you will. But your husband may not," she said, the final word like the closing of a gate.

Then, softened by some memory only she knew, the elder took from her wrist a pair of silver anklets--the mark of a wedded Naqari woman--and clasped them around Aida's ankles.

"Walk now in both worlds, child of two flames," she said. "But know which hearth is yours."

A messenger from Thravenreach galloped southward and found Dale at camp. He brought with him a sealed letter bearing Aida's hand and heart. Within it were the terms of peace, written with care.

"The Naqari shall be hunted no more. I ask you--my Duke--to honour this peace. For me. For the blood of my mother."

Dale read it thrice.

Then he turned to Tharen and his captains and spoke but once: "Call off the raids. We shall spill no more blood in the valleys."

That night, beneath a sky dusted with stars, he sat alone and wrote back with steady hand:

"You honour your father's name, Aida.

And I--

I am proud to be called your husband."

When Aida received his letter, she pressed it to her breast. A blush rose to her cheeks, and Brinna, ever silent, smiled.

Chapter 18

"Lord Dale sleeps far from you," Brinna remarked, as she helped Aida into the warm bath, her voice laced with concern.

"Aye, Brinna, this is a matter best left unsaid," Aida responded, a slight frown marring her features.

"Lady Aida," Brinna insisted, her tone firm as she helped with oil, "I would rather face a thousand agonies than speak a secret of yours. I am but a humble maid to you, yet I care for your happiness above all. And there is no joy for you, if you keep your lord so distant. He is a fine man, a good lord -- do not shun him so."

Aida sighed deeply, her gaze distant. "He does not seek me, Brinna, at least not yet."

"But... but why?" Brinna's eyes widened. "You are the very picture of beauty, of purity."

Aida let out a small laugh, though it was tinged with sadness. "Brinna, even some of our maidens possess fairer features than mine."

Brinna's eyes flared in disbelief. "Nay, Lady Aida, you are angelic. I have seen our lord lost in your fiery red hair, in your eyes, your grace..." Brinna paused, her words trailing into a playful silence, before she suddenly laughed. "Forgive me, my lady, I speak too freely."

Aida smiled, her mood lightening somewhat. "Brinna, you are too bold for your own good."

But Brinna, as always, was not deterred. "He has told you that you do not yet love him, that you do not accept him. And in truth, he is right. But listen to me now, Aida -- he seeks you, but his respect for you is greater than his desire. He controls his heart, for he values you more than mere passion. Such men are rare to meet."

Aida fell silent, the weight of Brinna's words sinking in.

Brinna continued, her voice softening, "Think on this, Lady Aida. Dale was but a boy when Lord Akon fell. He has no blame for the wars of the past. Why, then, do you hold your pride so tightly, when peace and love are within your grasp?"

Aida turned to her, eyes twinkling with mischief. "How is it that you behave like a child one moment, and the next, like a sage?"

Brinna's laughter rang out, and for a moment, all was lightness between them.

The moment passed quickly, however, as the sharp voice of the guard rang out from the doorway. "The Duke arrives, my lady."

Aida quickly rose from the bath, her heart lifting at the news. "Brinna help me dry and get me a robe and then arrange for lunch for the lord."

She hurried to her study to greet him.

"Dale," she whispered, as he kissed her hand with a bow.

"I apologize, but I must return to camp soon," he said, his gaze briefly lingering on her hair. "I bring word from Chief Baran. He invites you to visit, to meet the family and be seen as his daughter-in-law by the people of Flamewood."

"Is this a summons or an invitation?" Aida asked, arching a brow with a touch of playful skepticism.

"It is an invitation," Dale replied with a smile. "But be warned, you are the first lady of Aurelia to join the Chief's family. The people will watch you closely, and the family will judge you with sharp eyes."

"That brings little comfort," Aida remarked dryly.

Dale's smile softened as he took her hand. "Fear not, my love. My family will embrace you. You are the most wondrous lady, and you can win the hearts of all with but a word."

"Then, my lord," Aida said, her eyes gleaming with mischief, "stay for luncheon, and tell me all who I must meet and how I should behave."

Dale gave a chuckle at her request, knowing well her desire to prepare for the unknown. Over the simple yet delicious meal, he told her of the people she would encounter, but when it came to Chief Baran, he paused. "I will speak of all but him. He is my king, and I shall not betray him. You must judge him for yourself."

Aida listened intently, refilling his goblet with wine as he spoke. He spoke of Queen Elenara, Baran's first wife, a woman of grace and political wit, with three sons, including Dale. Kaedor Flameborn, the eldest, commanded the border guards, while Tharan, the youngest, led a naval unit. Queen Syra, Baran's second wife, was a fierce and intimidating warrior from the Ashclaw Tribe. She had borne two children, Ragar and Maela, both formidable in their own right. Ragar led the cavalry in the east, and Maela, like her mother, was a warrior of great skill. Dale spoke with an air of detachment about his siblings, his words neutral.

"Kaedor and Ragar are both contenders for the throne," Dale said with a shrug. "Kaedor is calm and calculated, bound by tradition, though he does not trust the union between Aida and me. Ragar, on the other hand, is bold and fearless, like Syra herself. He holds no love for court politics, and he despises those from the North, including thee."

Aida thanked him for his honest words, then, when he left for camp, summoned Kael to her chambers.

"Kael," she said, her voice steady, "I will travel to Skeldorn soon to meet my king and queens. I need gifts arranged -- do not worry about the cost." She handed him a pouch of coins, along with a few priceless artifacts she had kept for trade. "These should suffice. The gifts must be ready in time and exactly as I say."

Three weeks passed swiftly, and on a clear, early morning, Aida departed by sea aboard the ship Baran, bound for Redspire, the largest port in the South. Dale accompanied her, and Kael was left behind to manage the guards and affairs at Flamewood. Brinna, loyal as ever, remained at Aida's side.

"Aida," Dale said, as they stood on the deck of the ship, "these gifts are magnificent. It seems you know more of my family than even I."

"It was you who told me of them, my dear Dale," Aida replied with a soft smile. "I hope they will be well received."

Dale raised an eyebrow. "This must have cost a fortune."

Aida's smile widened. "A useful gift is worth every farthing."

"Each day, I learn something new about you," Dale said, admiration sparkling in his eyes, and Aida's cheeks flushed with warmth.

The ship sailed swiftly, reaching Redspire by next morning. The vibrant port city, with its iconic red-roofed buildings, was the heart of the Flamewood navy. A crowd had gathered at the docks to witness the arrival of the ship and the lady aboard it.

From there, a five-hour journey on horse and cart began, winding its way toward the ancient city of Skeldorn, the seat of power. Aida, an accomplished rider, sat beside Dale, her skill with horses honed by years of training under her father's and mother's watchful eyes. Dale had seen her swift on horseback once before, when she had galloped to save his life from assassins.

Together, they rode towards Skeldorn, their journey as much a test of their growing bond as it was a passage into the heart of Flamewood itself.

Chapter 19

The southern lands proved to be an experience like none other for Aida. The farthest south she had ever ventured was to the land of Naqaris, but that land was but a scattering of villages, far removed from the grandeur she now beheld. The bustling cities of Flamewood rivalled even Aurelia in their populace and edifices. In truth, Redspire and Skeldorn towered over Thravenreach in size and scope. There were lively markets, expansive homes, and roads paved with great care. The streets teemed with people, their footfalls echoing against the cobbled paths, and carts drawn by horses and oxen clattered alongside.

In the midst of the throngs, the languages spoken were as varied as the people themselves, many of which were foreign to Aida's ears. The vibrant sounds of the city only added to the hum of activity, and Aida found herself entranced by the diversity of it all.

The warm climate of the south, however, posed an unexpected challenge. Thravenreach, by the sea, was blessed with cool breezes and hills that shielded it from the fiercest heat of summer. But here, the sun bore down relentlessly upon her, its heat making both herself and her steed long for respite. Frequent stops for water were necessary, and the kind villagers along the route were more than happy to provide. They were eager to glimpse the Aurelian princess, and their hospitality made the journey far more bearable.

But it was not only the heat that caught Aida's attention. The customs of dress were as foreign as the lands themselves. The common folk wore little more than linen loincloths tied about their waists, while the nobility adorned themselves in silken garments. Astonishingly, few covered their upper bodies, and the women wore fine jewelry, many of them working the land or tending to their trades, as though the toil of their hands did not hinder their beauty. Aida's gaze lingered on the unusual attire, her brow furrowing in quiet surprise.

Brinna, walking beside her, shared in her astonishment, but Dale, ever the observant one, noticed the flicker of discomfort in Aida's eyes.

"It is always warm here, my lady," he said with a smile that was both reassuring and knowing. "Such attire makes sense in this climate. The upper body is covered only on special occasions, or when one travels to cooler regions."

Aida nodded, though she still felt the strangeness of it all.

"You need not concern yourself with such customs, Aida. Your silks and gowns will be received with the respect due to you. In this land, we honor the garments of our visitors, especially those from Aurelia."

His words, warm and kind, brought her some comfort, though the customs of this strange land weighed on her still. It would take time to accustom herself to all she had seen and heard, but Aida was not one to shy from a challenge.

As they continued their journey toward Skeldorn, Aida could not help but marvel at the contrast between this world and her own. The people here, though so different in appearance and custom, seemed no less full of life than the folk of Thravenreach. The lands may have changed, but the human spirit remained much the same.

Chapter 20

Baran's palace, nestled upon the high grounds of Skeldorn, was a modest fortress, a reflection of Flamewood's belief in power forged through strength and tradition, rather than opulence. The stone walls, sturdy and unyielding, stood proudly against the backdrop of the southern skies. As Aida and her party arrived, a flurry of maids and servants rushed forward, eager to attend to them. Horses were swiftly held, luggage carried with practiced ease, and cool water and damp towels were brought out to soothe the heat-ridden travelers.

Baran himself approached, flanked by his wives. Aida had caught only a brief glimpse of him during her wedding, but seeing him now, standing before her, he appeared even larger than she had remembered. His frame was imposing, his presence commanding. He wore a drape of leather and linen that spoke of both practicality and authority. His face, though marked by the years, still carried the remnants of the youth that had once made him a striking figure.

To his left stood, a woman whose fierce expression and battle-scarred visage told the tales of countless battles fought and won. It was clear to Aida that this was the warrior queen, Syra, the embodiment of strength and resilience. To Baran's right was Elenara, the serene queen, her face calm and composed, her hair adorned with flowers in the style of the land. Aida could see the familial resemblance between Elenara and Dale, the same gentle grace in her features. Both queens, like the rest of the inhabitants of the fort, were bare-breasted, a custom that took Aida by surprise, though she quickly masked her shock.

"Welcome, Aida of Thravenreach, to my home," Baran boomed, his voice as thunderous as the name he bore.

Despite the surprise that coursed through her, Aida took only a fraction of a second to compose herself. Her training as an Aurelian princess was ingrained in her, and she held herself with the poise befitting her station. With a graceful curtsy, she addressed the king.

"Thank you for your kind invitation, my King Baran, ruler of the South. I present myself to you."

Her voice was clear, and the words flowed effortlessly in the Flamewood tongue, a testament to her skill in diplomacy.

Then, she turned to Elenara, the elder queen. "I present myself to you, my Queen Elenara, the gentle."

Next, she acknowledged Syra, the warrior queen. "I present myself to you, my Queen Syra, the fierce."

Baran and his queens shared a hearty laugh at Aida's formal display, their amusement evident. "You truly are a refined lady, Aida of Thravenreach. Please, come in," Baran said, his voice softening, though still rich with authority.

Dale, who had been standing nearby, sighed with relief, a smile tugging at his lips. It was clear that Baran and his wives had taken a liking to Aida, and it pleased him to see her handle herself with such grace.

Aida was assigned a large room in a quieter part of the fort, offering her the privacy she needed. Brinna, ever her companion, stayed with her, while Dale's quarters were not far off. Maela, the ever-efficient hostess, was tasked with assisting Aida during her stay, ensuring she wanted for nothing.

One evening, as they sat together in the cool shade of the fortress, Aida turned to Maela, a puzzled expression on her face. "Tell me Maela. How do the men here not become distracted? They seem so unaffected by the sight of women wearing so little."

Maela chuckled at the question, clearly amused. "They were born here, Aida, and are accustomed to such sights. One does not look upon their sisters, mothers, and daughters with desire."

Aida frowned, still struggling to understand. "And will I ever grow accustomed to this?"

Maela's smile was gentle as she offered reassurance. "You will get used to sun and wind on your shoulders." And added with a tease. "If you're worried about Dale, fear not, he has eyes only for you."

Aida could not help but laugh at Maela's teasing. Despite the strangeness of it all, she felt a certain comfort in the woman's words.

As the days passed, Aida became acquainted with nearly the entire household of Baran. She met Dale's siblings and half-siblings, exchanging pleasantries and curtsies. When she encountered the two contenders for the throne, she did not hesitate to show them the same respect, curtsying low in their presence. Always, she addressed Baran and his wives as "Your Majesty" or "King" and "Queen," while the rest of the family were called Lords and Ladies. She made sure to thank the maids for their service and showed the same respect to all, regardless of their station. The household found her manners highly amusing, and soon, Aida became a favorite of most.

Even if some of the more skeptical members of the household remained uncertain of her, the gifts she brought from Aurelia and Thravenreach went a long way toward winning their favor. King Baran was presented with a set of finely crafted steel swords, each blade a masterpiece of northern craftsmanship, along with a collection of exotic Velmorran wines. Aida had also ensured that the first navy ship built by Thravenreach's finest artists would bear Baran's name, an honor that was met with much appreciation.

Elenara and Syra were each gifted a pearl necklace, the delicate gems plucked from the Aurelian north seas, along with rubies from Thravenreach's richest mines and rare tea from the distant Orient. Even Syra, who was more accustomed to the thrill of battle than the softness of jewels, was taken aback by the beauty of the rubies.

Aida's generosity extended beyond the royal family. To Kaedor and Ragar, she gifted a pair of fine horses, and to their wives, jewelry and silk of the highest quality. Maela received a set of chainmail and armoured gloves, while her husband Tharen and Dale's youngest brother Tharan were given barrels of the finest rum and tobacco for their soldiers. For the rest of the household, Aida chose thoughtful, functional luxury--designer wooden beds and desks--along with wooden toys for the children, woolen socks, and silver bowls.

Even the maids and servants were not overlooked, with Aida gifting soap and oil to those who worked tirelessly at Baran's fort. Each gift was accompanied by a small note, bearing her name and that of Dale, a reminder of the bond between their lands.

As the days passed, Aida's presence in the fortress became a source of great amusement and affection. She may have come from a distant land, but in Skeldorn, she was slowly beginning to carve a place for herself among the people of Flamewood.

Chapter 21

The following evening, a grand feast was held in honor of Dale and Aida. It was a joyous occasion, for aside from Baran, Maela, and Theran, none had attended their wedding. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and celebration. Baran sat at the head of the long, polished table, with his queens beside him, their presence adding to the stateliness of the gathering. His voice, deep and rich, cut through the chatter of the guests as he welcomed Aida into his family.

"Aida of Thravenreach, you are truly your father's daughter. I am glad to have you in my family," Baran declared, his gaze lingering on Aida with a note of pride.

Syra, always outspoken, added, "She resembles her mother, does she not? The same grace, the same heart."

Elenara, the serene queen, smiled warmly, her eyes soft with approval. Though Kaedor and Ragar remained silent, Aida could sense their lingering doubts about her. They said nothing, yet the weight of their scrutiny was palpable.

Aida, intrigued and seeking clarity, turned to the king. "Your Majesty, you knew my father and mother?" she asked, confusion threading her voice.

It was Syra who replied, "Baran and Akon were brothers in arms long before they were enemies. It was I who introduced Alia to Akon," she said.

A cheer rose from the gathered guests, and Baran, ever the magnanimous host, called for a toast. "To the new alliance of Aida of Thravenreach and Dale Flameborn of Flamewood," he announced.

Aida joined the others in raising her glass, though her mind was still partially caught in the haze of revelations. The evening moved on, and she soon found herself confronting yet another surprise: the customs of Flamewood were not as reserved as those of her homeland.

It wasn't just the open display of affection between lovers--things that would be considered improper, even vulgar, in Aurelia--were not only accepted here, but openly celebrated. The realization left her both astonished and, at times, uncomfortable.

Later, when the feast began to wind down and the candles flickered low, Brinna leaned close and whispered in Aida's ear. "Flamewoods treat passion like sunlight--meant to be shared without shame."

Aida nodded, her face flushed with a mixture of disbelief and growing understanding. She was grateful that Dale had respected her need for privacy, kissing only her hand in public, never entering her room without knocking. He gave her space, though she couldn't help but feel the weight of the unfamiliar customs pressing in on her.

That night, as they walked through the corridors of the fort, Aida confided in Dale with a hesitant voice. "Lord Dale, the amount of skin that the ladies here display and the open way that affection is shown--it's a shock to me."

Dale, ever the considerate companion, met her gaze with understanding. "I apologize if it is making you uncomfortable. If you wish, I could speak with my father, and we could move your room to my mother's lakehouse, where you will have more privacy."

Aida shook her head firmly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You will do no such thing, my lord. I am here to be with my new family. I simply wish that you had warned me about this before we arrived."

Dale raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a playful grin. "And would you have believed me if I had told you before we came here?"

Aida hesitated, then relented with a soft laugh. "I suppose not. But please, ignore my complaints. I will learn. It's just... it's difficult for me to see Maela sitting on Theran's lap in front of King Baran, sipping wine together as though it were the most normal thing in the world. It's something no Aurelian would dare to even imagine."

Dale's grin widened, and he leaned closer, his voice teasing. "You mean to say that you find it scandalous that King Baran kissed Queen Syra on the lips while holding her around the waist at breakfast?"

Aida, caught off guard by his jest, found herself momentarily speechless. For the first time since they'd met, she had no retort ready, and it left her feeling both flustered and amused.

Chapter 22

Aida requested permission to speak with Syra, and the shield-maiden guided her into the room where Syra sat, awaiting her.

Syra was just slightly shorter than Baran--tall by any measure, especially for a woman. Her face was fierce, with battle-worn features that betrayed little emotion. A short drape covered her waist, but the rest of her body was a map of scars--both large and small--earned in countless battles. Her arms and legs were strong, her breasts modest, and the only jewelry she wore was a thick gold chain belt wrapped around her waist, marking her status as the wife of a chief.

The room was simple--plain, even--for the wife of such a powerful leader. Aida spoke in Ashclaw tongue, which pleased Syra.

"You look surprised to see my room... and my scars?" Syra's voice was matter-of-fact, with no sign of embarrassment.

"No, my queen. The room is plain for a queen," Aida replied, carefully measuring her words.

Syra's lips curved slightly. "I am not a queen, Aida. I am a wife first, and the commander of the Flamewood army second. I've spent enough nights in army camps to know comfort is earned, not given. Elenara is the queen--she is better suited for that role. As for the title, I don't much care for it. I prefer 'Commander.' But I'll indulge you, because I admire your grace."

Aida bowed her head slightly. "I thank you for that, my queen. I never learned the sword or any other weapon. I can ride a horse, but that's the extent of my skill. I admire you greatly for the strength you've shown in battle for your husband and your land. These scars... they make you seem even stronger."

Syra smiled, a rare softness in her expression. "So, let me guess. You came here to ask about your mother?"

"Actually, yes, my queen. You mentioned at dinner last night how you introduced my mother to my father. I've never heard of this from my uncle or any elder."

Syra settled in, her gaze distant as she began her tale, speaking plainly, as was her way. "Alia and I were wild in our youth--wild even by our Southern standards. Here all youths, be it boy or girl, leave their parents' homes and return only when they've earned something--money, honor, or a partner--preferably all three. I met Alia shortly after I left my mother. She was with her cousin, but the two of us quickly became friends and decided to travel together."

Syra's eyes gleamed as she recalled those days. "She had a remarkable ability to blend into any crowd. You could never guess she was a Naqari by looking at her. I suppose that's why they fear them so much--they make such deadly assassins. I was already a decent warrior by then, and I wanted to prove my sword's worth. Alia quickly learned Ashclaw tongue, but I never could master hers."

"One day, while traveling towards the Western hills, we were caught in a fierce thunderstorm and had to take shelter in a cave. As luck would have it, a couple of young men sought refuge there as well. I immediately assumed they were bandits, based on their clothing and weapons, and I was ready to strike the moment they entered. But Alia, even as a Naqari, refused to kill anyone just for seeking shelter from the storm. She stopped me. You can guess who those men were. Baran and Akon weren't skilled warriors back then. I didn't like Akon much--his Velmorra clothing, his furtive glances at Alia... But she didn't mind. She let them stay the night and even shared some fruits with them, seeing that they were weary."

Syra's eyes twinkled with a memory. "The next morning, as they left, Akon thanked us. He told Alia that he regretted not being able to repay her kindness, so he wrote her a poem on the spot. I still remember it because your mother used to hum it to herself when she was alone. It went like this:

'The Goddess's hair is the woodfire--

warm enough to shelter,

bright enough to guide,

and fierce enough to smelter.'"

Syra smiled. "Poor Alia was lost at that moment, though she would never admit it. She was a woman of depth. She wasn't swayed by wealth or power, but those words touched her soul. A few days later, she confessed to me that she wished she could meet the man who wrote that poem again. I realized then that she needed him."

Aida's eyes glistened with emotion as she listened to Syra's account of her parents. Syra continued, her voice steady, though there was a hint of something deeper behind it.

"It wasn't difficult for me to find Akon. He was walking through the Southern towns in his Velmorra attire. I met him in an inn, where he was the only one not drinking. He recognized me immediately. I told him about Alia--about how she was the woman he had met in the cave. I told him it would be in his best interest to marry her, for she had feelings for him. Akon thanked me, of course. He used his diplomatic skills when he met Alia's father and suggested an alliance between the two families--her daughter and a Northern prince. At first, Alia's father was suspicious, but he asked his daughter, and when she saw who the prince was, she agreed. For a man who didn't drink, Akon paid the bride-price in a rather unusual form--a cartload of rum casks."

Syra laughed heartily, the sound warm and unguarded. Aida couldn't help but smile along.

"I thank you, my queen, for bringing my parents together," Aida said sincerely. "If not for you, I wouldn't be here."

Syra waved a hand dismissively. "I don't take credit for that. Akon repaid me by advising me to seek out Baran as my husband. At that time, Baran had just married Elenara, and he was a small chief, but Akon was certain that he would rise. 'Marry him, and be his strength, and you'll be a queen soon,' he said. So I sought Baran, and I challenged him to a friendly duel, as Ashclaw women do. He refused, saying he only fought enemies of his land, and I wasn't one of them. I was impressed by his answer. So I asked him, 'Will you accept a wife who will never leave her blade behind?' And he answered, 'If you protect me with it, then yes.'"

Syra glanced at Aida, noting the thoughtful expression on her face. "For Aida of Thravenreach, it may not sound romantic, but Ashclaw women choose their husbands on their own terms. Baran was strong, intelligent, and treated me as an equal. He let my son carry my name and allowed my daughter to follow my warrior path. He is a man of honor."

Aida couldn't help but be struck by how the fiercest of warriors, Syra, could speak with such tenderness about her husband. They had been mere acquaintances before their marriage, yet there was a deep bond between them. Aida bowed her head in gratitude for Syra's openness.

Syra rose from her seat and moved to her desk, picking up a Naqari comb. "This was a gift from Alia. She used to do my braids whenever I had a particularly bad day, as a way of calming me. I would have liked to give it to you, but it is my only connection to her now. You will have a claim to it once I join my ancestors."

There was a quiet, sorrowful pause. Syra's eyes, usually so hard, seemed moist. "I would have avenged my friend's death, but Alia and I made a pact when Baran and Akon's paths collided--that we would not kill or seek vengeance for each other or our families. I keep that vow, even if Alia broke hers. She sought revenge impulsively and lost her way."

Aida felt the weight of Syra's words settle in her heart. It was a pact bound by loyalty and love--a warrior's oath to a friend, one that could not be broken.

Chapter 23

That evening, Baran summoned Aida and Dale to his study.

"I congratulate you, Aida of Thravenreach," Baran began, his voice steady. "You have exceeded my expectations in political finesse and diplomacy. You've won over my family through respect and gifts. Truly, you are graceful. I find it amusing that treacherous Aron thought he was playing a game by replacing his daughter with you. I've long hoped for a kinship with Akon."

Aida bowed, unsure whether Baran's words were sincere or laced with mockery.

"I called you both together because it's clear to me that you are not truly intimate, and it's not for lack of touches between you two." Both Aida and Dale blushed. "The world will notice soon enough. And when it does, it will whisper. Be warned for whispers never seldom result in good."

He paused, then added, "Finally, Aida of Thravenreach, let me remind you--Dale will never be a king. He knows this. Politics and reign are meant for certain people. Your father was not one of those--he left Velmorra for Thravenreach. Your husband is not one of those--he left the palace for an army camp on the border. You must decide what that means for you."

For a moment, Aida felt as though Baran had thrown down a gauntlet before her. Even Dale watched her, waiting for her response. But Aida's reply was dignified, even defiant.

"Your majesty, my lord's crown, or lack thereof, does not define my place beside him. I am Lady Dale of Thravenreach now--whether he is a captain to a king or a king to none."

Baran paused, momentarily stunned by her words. He said nothing but summoned a maid and asked her to bring a box from his cupboard. The maid placed it on the desk and left.

"Aida of Thravenreach," Baran said, opening the box and carefully taking out a finely crafted dagger. "You deserve this." He handed it to her. "This belonged to your father, Akon. He carried it when he fell."

Aida's eyes filled with tears, and despite her composure, she couldn't stop herself from weeping at the sight of the heirloom.

"Forgive me, your majesty, for crying," she said, wiping her eyes. Baran nodded with pity in his gaze. "May I ask something, my king?"

"You may, Aida of Thravenreach."

"Why did the two friends fight? Were they not friends anymore?"

Baran's reply was honest, even blunt. "Because men can be friends, and still fight. Because kingdoms don't pause for friendships. Because sometimes war comes whether you raise a sword or not."

Aida nodded, understanding. "I think I understand, my king."

Baran's eyes softened. "I never struck him, Aida of Thravenreach. I carried him when he fell. I sent him home to Queen Alia with honor."

Aida's voice was filled with gratitude. "I thank you from my heart for that, my king."

Baran's expression turned grave. "You and Dale--two children of war--have forged peace where swords failed. Be proud. You ended a war that your fathers could not."

Aida's eyes darkened, and her voice grew serious. "Your majesty, may I speak my heart freely?"

Baran looked at her, then nodded. "I may rue this, but go ahead, Aida of Thravenreach, Daughter of Akon."

"Though I should not say this to my king," Aida began, her voice trembling slightly, "I forgive you."

Dale, who had been quietly observing, noticed something unexpected: Baran's eyes faltered. Even in the most difficult situations, he had always remained stoic. But at that moment, Dale saw moisture in his king's eyes when he nodded toward Aida.

The scene shifted, and Baran's thoughts seemed to drift to another time.

He remembered the moment before the battle, when he saw Akon from across the field. Akon rode toward him, raising a hand in salute.

"Baran of Skeldorn," Akon called.

"Akon of Thravenreach," Baran replied with a nod.

"If I fall today, send me to Alia," Akon said, his voice calm, even in the face of danger. "She awaits me."

"And if I fall, you allow Syra to carry me to Elenara," Baran replied with a grin.

"That will not happen, Baran, old friend," Akon said, his tone firm.

"And why not, Akon, old friend?" Baran asked.

"Because you have Syra standing with you," Akon answered, "while my Alia is at home."

Baran's eyes grew moist, and he wiped them away, returning to the present moment. He stood once more as Baran, the chief of Skeldorn.

Later, in Dale's room, Aida sat in silence, processing Baran's words. Dale, pride evident in his voice, broke the silence.

"I'm proud to have you as my wife, Aida."

Aida looked up at him, offering a soft smile. Then, in a playful tone, she said, "Then perhaps my lord should begin by holding his wife's hand more often."

Dale's lips curled into a grin as he reached out to take her hand.

Chapter 24

Next morning, after Aida had swallowed her discomfort behind a practiced smile, she observed the queens and princesses seated at the breakfast table, their breasts exposed as they dined with their men, while bare-breasted maids served them food and drink. It was a strange, unsettling sight to her, yet she concealed her unease with the polished grace of one who had learned to mask such things. She knew her task now: she must seek the company of Elenara.

Aida was led through the shaded courtyard by one of Elenara's handmaidens, the scent of wild herbs filling the air as they passed. The queen sat beside a small fountain, its waters trickling over smooth stones, surrounded by flowers withered by the sun. Elenara, though of slight frame, commanded a regal presence that seemed unaffected by her humble surroundings. Plain of face, as most of the women of Flamewood were, she bore the same fair skin, dark eyes, and long black hair that cascaded freely, woven with flowers. She wore no crown nor adornments save for two necklaces--one for her birth tribe and the other for the tribe she had wed into. A fine linen cloth was draped around her, from her waist to her ankles, and a thick gold chain belt encircled her waist, signifying her station as the wife of the chief. Her large breasts, once firm and youthful, sagged with the passing of years, but her calm demeanor and wise eyes shone with quiet authority. She was known as the most learned woman in Baran's household.

Elenara spoke in a soft yet firm voice, "I can speak the Aurelian tongue, Aida of Thravenreach, should it ease your mind."

Aida, with a gentle shake of her head, replied, "Your majesty, you are most kind, but I speak the tongue of Flamewood comfortably."

Elenara regarded her with a thoughtful glance. "Aye, that you do. 'Tis good to see you are as learned as I had heard, and not as shallow as most royal ladies from Aurelia."

"I thank you for the honor, your majesty."

Elenara's lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze softening. "We do not hold to such titles here. We are not royalty, Aida. We take pride in our tribes, and I am but the wife of the chief of Flamewood."

Aida dipped into a curtsy, her voice steady, yet warm with respect. "I understand, your majesty. But please allow me to honor you in the way I was taught. My mother, though a Naqari by birth, adopted Aurelian customs when she wed my father. She raised me in the Aurelian way, though she did impart some Naqari traditions upon me."

Elenara smiled in acknowledgment. "It is a rare thing for someone to seek my company. I hold little sway here in Flamewood, and I care even less for the politics that swirl about us."

Aida lowered her gaze for a moment before speaking with sincerity. "Then allow me to be the exception. I came not only to meet the senior queen, the future Queen Mother, but more so to meet the woman who birthed and raised my Lord Dale."

Elenara tilted her head slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before softening into a more tender expression. "Your Lord Dale, is he?" she smiled faintly. "You speak of him as though you chose him, and not the other way around."

Aida, her eyes lowered, answered quietly, "Perhaps I did choose him, or perhaps fate did. Yet, I am proud to stand beside him."

Elenara dipped her fingers into the fountain's water, her gaze not leaving Aida's. "You call me Queen Mother. Is that wise, when another queen--a warrior queen--dwells within our walls?"

Aida held Elenara's gaze briefly before bowing her head. "I may not yet understand all the ways of Flamewood... but I see in Baran's eyes the depth of his love for you, despite the presence of Queen Syra, the warrior queen. From the little I have seen, I believe that Lord Kaedor will be his choice in the end as heir--he is the more controlled of the two. Flamewood will require that calm to prosper."

Elenara regarded her in silence, her face unreadable, until at last, she spoke, her tone firm. "I do not indulge in politics, Aida. Both Kaedor and Ragar are my sons, though I have nursed only one. I play no favorites. And you are mistaken--Baran loves both his wives equally."

Aida bowed, contrite. "I stand corrected, your majesty. I regret my choice of words. Rest assured, I shall stand firm behind whatever path my Lord Dale chooses."

Elenara's gaze hardened momentarily before softening once more. "That choice of words was deliberate. You could have been a great queen, Aida. But as much as I love Dale, he is no king. He cannot rule those around him, nor does he desire to. It is both a curse and a blessing for him--and for you."

It dawned on Aida, with startling clarity, that for all her words of disinterest in politics, Elenara was the true queen, the true ruler beside Baran, with influence far greater than Aida had realized.

"And what of you, Aida?" Elenara's voice was gentler now, but still full of weight. "What is it that you desire, not for Flamewood, nor for Thravenreach, but for yourself?"

Aida took a moment to consider, her voice quiet yet unwavering. "I want Dale to one day lay down his sword. When he says he is home, I want him to mean it. I desire a simple life, my queen--a life of peace. I've lost both my parents to senseless battles and rivalries. I seek no thrones, no conquests. Thravenreach is enough for me. I want peace... and children who do not learn to ride a warhorse before they learn to smile."

A fleeting glimmer of emotion touched Elenara's eyes, and she reached out, her fingers brushing Aida's hand--an unexpected gesture in a land where softness was rare. "Then I believe you shall make Dale a better man than I ever could. If your words are true... Flamewood shall be fortunate to have you, even if it is but for a time."

After a moment, Elenara's tone lightened, a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Before you leave for Thravenreach, ask Dale to show you the Temple of Love. It is old, quiet, and seldom visited, but legend tells that every couple who makes an offering there will walk hand-in-hand for the rest of their lives."

Chapter 25

As the ochre hues of sunset bled into the soft veil of dusk, Aida and Dale walked through the quieter gardens behind Baran's fortress. The air grew cool and still, and the scent of blooming jasmine clung to the evening breeze. Aida glanced at Dale, her gaze steady, yet her words laced with both casualness and intent.

"Lord Dale," she began, her voice low yet carrying an edge of purpose. "Queen Elenara bade me visit the Temple of Love before our return. Would you accompany me?"

Dale halted mid-step, his brow furrowing in surprise. A flush crept up to his ears almost immediately. "The... The Temple of Love?"

Aida turned to face him, an eyebrow arching in quiet challenge. "Aye, that is what she said. Does it trouble you, my lord?"

He stammered, the words escaping in disarray. "I--no--it's just... it's not a place for casual visits, Aida. It's..." He trailed off, looking for the right words, yet found himself unsure.

Aida narrowed her eyes, a teasing glint in them as her lips curled into a faint smile. "Oh? That only makes me more curious. What, then, is this temple?"

Dale sighed heavily, raking a hand through his tousled hair. "My lady, the Temple of Love is... it is a series of underground caves. Below them, there are lakes, and the waters--oh, the waters--catch the moonlight and shimmer as if kissed by the stars themselves. The temple is sacred to Flamewood's goddess of love and fertility. Couples come there to... pray for children. Or," he hesitated, his cheeks reddening, "to... um..." He faltered, the weight of his words growing heavy.

Aida, ever the inquisitive princess, pressed on, her tone light and playful. "To consummate their love?"

Dale nearly choked on his own breath. "Yes. That. Exactly."

Aida, her smile widening, leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased him with quiet mirth. "It was a full moon three nights ago, wasn't it? The temple must be... magical now, then."

Dale, looking around nervously as though someone might overhear, tried to regain his composure. "Aida, you will not like it. It is--very private. Very traditional. The customs are strict, and those who visit must respect the goddess's ways. It's not for just any curiosity."

Aida's expression remained steadfast, though a spark of mischief danced in her eyes. "Ah, so the customs require us to walk naked, then?"

Dale froze as though struck by lightning, his face burning a shade of crimson deeper than the setting sun. "Aida! What became of the Aurelian princess who blushed at the sight of Maela sitting upon her husband's lap, who nearly swooned when she saw her queens with their breasts unclad? Where is that modest lady now?"

Aida met his flustered gaze with serene composure, her lips curling into a wickedly amused smile. "Oh, she's been thoroughly corrupted by Skeldorn, I suppose. Poor princess."

She walked a few paces ahead, then turned to glance over her shoulder with a playful gleam in her eyes. "So, shall we go tonight? Or shall I seek a different Flamewood man to show me the temple?"

Dale, utterly helpless, could only mutter in resignation, "You are going to be the death of me."

Aida's tone softened with mock sweetness, but her smile was sharp. "I do hope not. I'm only beginning to grow accustomed to you, Dale."

Back in her chambers, Brinna nearly leapt with joy at the words Aida spoke.

"Brinna, can you ready the Flamewood linens that Maela gifted to me and comb my hair later this evening?" Aida's voice carried a quiet command, laced with expectation.

"Yes, Lady Aida," Brinna answered eagerly. "Is there a journey after supper?"

"There is," Aida replied, her voice low but laced with intrigue, "but you are not welcome to accompany me. I visit the Temple of Love with Lord Dale tonight."

Brinna's eyes widened in delight. "You're going there? Oh, Aida, that's wondrous! I've heard the other maids speak of it. They say the temple glows like a dream, as if the stars themselves fell into the water to bless the lovers. I've longed to see it too, but I was told only those truly in love are permitted entrance." She hugged Aida tightly, her excitement evident in her grip.

Aida, raising an eyebrow with playful reproach, responded with mock severity. "Brinna, I shall have to do something about your impertinence one of these days."

Brinna tightened her hug, unwilling to let go. "You keep forgiving it, Lady Aida. That's your greatest weakness."

Aida, her lips curling into a half-smile, teased, "Hmm, indeed. But not tonight. Tonight, I'm going to see the moonlight upon the water... with my Lord. Now, release me before someone sees you embracing your lady so freely."

Brinna laughed, though she showed no sign of letting go, her arms still wrapped around Aida with affectionate abandon.

Chapter 26

The wind blew gentle and hushed as Dale and Aida rode westward, the sky above deepening into indigo twilight. The path ahead curled through rolling hills, veiled by the encroaching woods of Flamewood. No others rode this sacred road--on this night, the Temple of Love was closed to all save two. A Flamewood lord and a lady of the North.

Dale bore his ceremonial garb: a dark green cloak trailing behind him, his sword girded at his hip, his bearing solemn and proud. Aida rode close beside, her form cloaked in grey, her hood drawn low to veil her expression. No words passed between them; silence was the covenant of the moment.

By the time they reached the stone pass, the moon had crested the horizon, pale and round. A solitary arch of old stone stood at the entrance to the sacred grounds, weathered by time and memory. They dismounted, tying the horses to the ancient hitch. All around lay stillness--expectant, reverent, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.

"No blades, no beasts," Dale murmured. "The temple permits neither. We enter unburdened--bare, save for the truth we carry within."

He slipped off his cloak and set his weapons aside, his chest and arms revealed to the cool night. Then, turning, he offered his hand.

Aida took it without hesitation.

Together, hand in hand, they began the walk into the sacred cliffs.

The cave mouths emerged at last--natural arches carved by wind and water, their shadows yawning open before them. A distant murmur of water echoed from within, like the breath of the goddess herself.

Dale paused at the threshold, then cleared his throat, his voice tinged with humility.

"From this point, we follow the old ways. Bare of chest, barefoot, beneath the moon. Such is the custom of lovers who seek the goddess' blessing."

He turned to her--and faltered.

For she had already cast aside her cloak.

Beneath it, she wore only the Flamewood ceremonial wrap--a linen cloth bound low on her hips. Her upper body was unadorned, save for the delicate silver pendant of Thravenreach that nestled between the most beautiful pair of breasts he had ever seen. Her skin, bathed in moonlight, seemed to glow--pale as marble, and warm as life.

Dale stood still as stone, his breath caught, his gaze devout. She was no longer simply the princess of Aurelian. She was something eternal.

Aida's brow lifted, her smile a blade wrapped in silk. "Do you stare thus in battle too, my lord?"

Dale found his tongue after a moment, and managed: "You've learned the Flamewood rites swiftly, my lady."

She stepped closer, her fingers curling around his.

"Then teach me the rest, Dale. As your wife."

And thus, they crossed into the sacred cave, not as warrior and royal, but as man and woman--lovers joined by fate and fire.

Within, the cavern stretched vast and echoing. Shafts of silver moonlight fell through unseen crevices above, casting pale beams upon the waters below. Pools of crystalline stillness dotted the stone, their surfaces aglow with celestial light. Beneath them, stones shimmered like buried stars, flickering with each ripple.

The air was cool, fragrant with ancient moss and the memory of vows spoken in whisper. Along the water's edge, smooth stone platforms lay spread, shaped by time and lovers' devotion.

Dale led her gently across the chamber, their bare feet soft upon the stone.

"These flat stones," he said, "are where couples kneel and speak their truths. We keep no idols in Flamewood. The goddess does not dwell in image, but in the presence of the beloved. To the wife, her man is the god; to the man, she is his goddess. In their unity, they are blessed."

He paused, for Aida was no longer watching the temple, but him.

Softly, she asked, "Dale... are we here as Flamewood's captain and Aurelian's princess?"

His answer was firm, his gaze unwavering.

"No, Aida. We are here as husband and wife."

She smiled then--a smile lit from within--and unbound the cloth at her hips. It slipped to the ground without a sound, and she stood bare beneath the moonlight, fearless and radiant. Though her cheeks bore a maiden's blush, her stance bore a queen's strength.

She stepped into the water, turning toward him, her voice low, steady.

"Then see me, my husband. As yours. As I see you."

His heart thundered like a war-drum. With reverence, he undid his own garment and let it fall.

For a moment, they looked--truly looked--at one another. The eyes had less lust, but more knowing. Of shared scars, of courage, of silent longing come to bloom.

"I have seen many women," Dale said, his voice barely above a whisper, "but only one makes my soul still and my hands tremble. Only you, my wife."

She held out her arms.

"Then come to me. Touch me. Love me."

And he did.

The waters embraced them as they embraced each other. Lips met, breath tangled. Their bodies became one, not in haste, but in harmony. Beneath the vaulted stone, with stars above and holy waters below, they found union--sacred and complete.

Later, they lay together upon a great slab of warm stone, their bodies entwined beneath the moon's gaze. Aida rested her head against Dale's shoulder, her hand upon his chest, his hand playing with her long red hair, their breaths slow and mingled.

Aida broke the silence, her voice unsure, tender.

"May I speak now... not as a daughter of kings, but as a woman who loves her man?"

Dale's hand found hers, his fingers curling tightly around her own.

"I have longed for nothing more."

She turned her gaze to him, soft and unguarded, and said, "Dale, my dearest... I think I should seek forgiveness from gods, for I am grateful that the North and South once went to war."

He looked at her, silent but listening.

"For had they not... we might never have found our way to this place. To this night. To each other."

He answered not with speech, but with a kiss--slow, deep, and reverent. The kind of kiss not born of desire, but of belonging. Of vows unspoken and yet already fulfilled.

And beneath the moonlight, the goddess smiled.

Chapter 27

Long did they lie together upon the sacred stone, their limbs entwined, their voices hushed with the softness of truth. No more were they prince or captain, princess or guard--nay, they were but man and woman, two souls laid bare in every sense, their hearts speaking a language long stifled by duty and silence. Their words, though simple, wove tales of forgotten dreams, hidden fears, and laughter that sprang forth like spring water from a long-buried well.

The hour slipped past unnoticed, save for the slow turning of the stars above the cavern's open mouth. Their fingers lingered gently--exploring, remembering--as if learning one another anew. The silence was never empty; it was filled with the sacred intimacy of those who had, at long last, found home in each other.

And when the first pale fingers of dawn crept into the cave, brushing the stone walls with the softest light, they rose at last. They clothed themselves slowly, reverently--not with the rigid urgency of court life, but with the quiet grace of hearts forever altered. Neither hurried nor hesitant, they dressed like those who understood that nothing henceforth need be hidden between them.

By the time their horses tread once more upon the narrow path leading back to the Flamewood fortress, the sun had begun its ascent in earnest. Aida, who had taken the lead, drew her steed to a halt just before the outer gate. She turned in her saddle, her eyes alight with mischief and something far deeper.

Dale approached, drawing up beside her. Before he could utter a word, she seized his collar, pulled him close, and kissed him. It was not long, nor fiery, but it was full of promise--of breakfasts shared, of glances stolen, of lives entwined.

"And I expect you to kiss me again during breakfast," she murmured against his lips, a playful tilt to her brow. "As any self-respecting Flamewood husband would. Do not disappoint your wife, Lord Dale."

With a final glance that lingered, she dismounted and swept away towards her chambers, her cloak catching the breeze like a sail on fire, her steps light as the spring wind.

Within the chamber, poor Brinna awaited like a storm bottled tight in a teacup. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes wide with sleepless wonder. She had paced through the night, ears straining for any sound, heart bursting with curiosity.

The moment she saw Aida return, she rushed forth, hands clenched in excitement.

"Well?" she demanded, unable to contain herself. "You are glowing, my lady. Glowing like the moon itself kissed your brow. Tell me everything. Every detail, every whisper, every--"

Aida's laughter rang soft and smooth, like harp strings played beneath twilight. She shook her head gently, placing a hand on Brinna's shoulder. "Nay, sweet Brinna. This is something... even you shall not know."

For a heartbeat, Brinna's eyes glistened--not with envy, but with pride, and something like farewell. She smiled through it.

"I am glad," she whispered. "That Lord Dale has replaced me as your confidant. Now I think I can finally say yes to Kael."

Aida blinked, startled, then let out a warm chuckle. Her arms opened wide. "Come here."

Brinna flew into the embrace, her small form pressed into Aida's bosom as the tears finally fell--soft, grateful, and free. Aida, for once, did not chide her for improper closeness. She only held her.

But after a long moment, she murmured, a touch of mock sternness in her voice, "Brinna, much as I love you... remember, he is still Lord Dale to you. And I remain Lady Aida."

"Yes, Lady Aida," Brinna sniffled, then giggled like a child caught sneaking honey from the jar.

Aida joined her in that laugh, the sound echoing down the stone corridor--clear, bright, and full of the warmth of new beginnings.

Chapter 28

The morn broke fair and golden over Flamewood, and within the great hall, the noble family gathered around the breakfast board waiting for Chief Baran to join. All other seats were filled, save one--for they awaited the Lady Aida too.

The air was light with laughter, the mood bright as morning dew. Then entered Aida, composed as moonlight, and she curtsied with due reverence to Queen Elenara and Queen Syra, her bearing calm, her eyes untroubled.

Without fuss, she moved to take her seat beside Dale. At this, Dale rose--his heart beating faster than his steps betrayed. For but a moment he faltered, then, with the quiet confidence of a man no longer bound by pretense, he leaned down and kissed her lips, one hand at her waist. It was neither boastful nor bashful--it was simply the manner in which Flamewood husbands greeted their wives.

The hall fell silent, but only for the span of a breath.

Then came the softest smiles from Elenara and Syra, like sunlight slipping through stained glass. Kaedor let out a knowing chuckle, while Ragar smirked and shook his head in mock disbelief. Not a soul spoke aloud, yet the unspoken approval rang louder than any trumpet.

When the time came for Aida to return to Thravenreach, King Baran awaited her at the gates, his bearing regal, his expression warm.

"Lady Aida," said he, his voice carrying the full weight of the crown, "you have shown yourself to be more than a diplomat. Flamewood has in you a ruler of discernment and steel. Thus, by royal decree, I order a dozen ships--merchant vessels, stout and swift--for Flamewood's fleet to be built by Thravenreach dock. Paid in full from the royal treasury."

Aida's eyes widened, her breath caught in her throat. She bowed low, gratitude shining in her gaze.

"Your Majesty," she said with solemn grace, "this shall fortify our coffers more than words may tell. I shall see these ships honored in service and name."

The tone in which Baran had addressed her--no longer mere guest, but a ruler among equals--was not lost upon those who watched.

Before her departure, both Elenara and Syra embraced her warmly, woman to woman, heart to heart. Into her arms they pressed gifts wrapped in green velvet: linen spun from Flamewood looms, and chainmail forged to be as light as silk and strong as dragonscale.

Elenara, her eyes gentle, spoke with affection as Syra stood beside her. "You may not hunger for dominion, Aida, but mark this--you shall yet make the world better for being in it."

The journey homeward to Thravenreach stretched longer than the road demanded, for this time Aida and Dale took the forest path, winding and shaded. To the weary traveler, it was a trial. But to two hearts newly joined in love, it was a gift of time and quiet togetherness.

Upon their return, Kael met them at the gates with a grin that said more than protocol allowed. Yet Aida tarried not. While Dale was yet occupied, she summoned the castle architects to her private study.

"Draw me plans," she said, voice firm as tempered steel, "for a new wing in the eastern quarter. The wing shall be private, for the Duke and Lady of Thravenreach. I require new chambers--proper ones. I've no mind to sleep alone again."

Her maids flushed pink, exchanging shy glances. Whispers spread like spring winds through the halls. Brinna was tasked with instructing the maidens in decorum befitting the presence of a Duke. The cooks were bade to study the Flamewood fare. And in all corners of the keep, the subtle stir of transformation began.

When at last Dale was to ride to the army camp, his armor glinting and his brow set with purpose, Aida drew him aside beneath the eyes of soldiers, aides, and townsfolk alike. Her gaze never wavered.

Bold as ever, she placed her hands upon his shoulders and whispered with the clarity of a bell at dawn, "Kiss me before you go, my love."

He blinked once--then smiled, slow and sure--and kissed her full upon the lips, there in the open, for all to see.

Aida stepped back, her lips curved in a smile that dared the skies themselves. "I shall wait for you. My Duke. My Captain. My husband. My love."

Chapter 29

The wedding of Brinna and Kael, though modest by royal decree, shone brighter than any jewel in the realm. It bore not the pomp of thrones nor the pageantry of empire, yet it brimmed with something far rarer--unfeigned joy.

Lady Aida spared no expense. Silks from the far ports of Aurelia adorned the hall. The feasting tables groaned beneath the weight of Naqari dates, smoked Flamewood meats, honeyed pastries, and rum aged to perfection in the cellars of old Flamewood keep. Minstrels and flutists played till the very stars dimmed before dawn, and the halls of Thravenreach echoed with music, mirth, and merriment.

It was not a queen's display, but a friend's offering--a lavish gift from Aida to the two souls who had protected her in silence, even when she had not known she needed shielding.

Kael stood tall, pride in his bearing and devotion plain in his gaze. He had paid Brinna's bride-money from his own purse--an honor-bound gesture made all the richer by the generous coin Dale had pressed upon him, claiming it as recompense for "espionage disguised as service most loyal." Flamewood's chief family too had sent their gifts: fine cloth, crafted blades, and ornaments of carved elm and pearl.

As for Brinna--her usual fire softened by love--her eyes were rarely dry that evening. Her fierce spirit, long honed in service and sacrifice, now soared unbound. Her laughter rang like chimes, and she danced with Kael beneath the hanging lanterns, her wedding gown trailing like moonlight behind her. Through the vows, the feast, and the dance, she never once let go of his hand.

It was plain to all--she had waited long for this joy. Her devotion to Aida had kept her heart restrained. But now, with her lady's blessing, her happiness was unshackled.

And with that joy came a new title.

Chief Maid of Thravenreach. Mistress of the maids, commander of the kitchens, overseer of decorum and order in the keep. With a small army of younger maids, novice cooks, and green palace guards under her command, Brinna took to her new post as a falcon takes to the open sky--swift, sharp, and knowing.

Yet for all her newfound authority, she changed but little. She still teased Aida with the boldness of old, still dispensed advice without being asked, still called her Aida in the quiet of chambers and Lady Aida in the presence of others. But now, she did it with the faint arch of her brow--the mark of one who had not only earned her place, but cherished it.

Her loyalty had once been a shield. Now, it was a banner.

Chapter 30

When the newly built chamber in the eastern wing stood complete, Lady Aida herself took Lord Dale by the hand and led him to see it.

He needed but one glance to offer his approval.

Sunlight poured through arched windows draped in gauze the color of sunrise. Rich Flamewood rugs muffled every step, and tapestries of green and gold hung proud upon the stone walls. In the heart of the chamber stood a great four-poster bed, its frame of dark oak carved with the sigils of both Flamewood and Thravenreach entwined. This room, unlike any other in the keep, was not merely fit for a duke and his lady--it was entirely theirs. Sacred. Secluded. A haven carved from stone and sunlight.

Aida, now mistress of this wing, had taken to adorning herself in silks of the Flamewood fashion. The garments, with their bold cuts and languid drapes, spoke of heat and freedom. They bared more than any Aurelian gown would dare--flowing, teasing, clinging to her with a grace both wanton and regal.

Her sleeping attire, if it could still be so named, paid full homage to the customs of Flamewood--where queens went to bed with their bosom bare and modesty cast aside like a shawl at dusk.

Dale, upon one such evening, half-heartedly protested with a grin tugging at his lips, "Aida... do you not fear turning too bawdy for even Flamewood's taste?"

To which she answered, voice lilting with mischief, "I am a Flamewood lady now. When next I visit Skeldorn, I'll not be the most overdressed among the queens. Surely you would not have your wife sweat in silks while your kin wear naught but breeze and sunlight?"

Her tone promised mischief; her eyes, something deeper still.

Dale grumbled, though the mirth in his voice betrayed him, "'Tis a torment I may never grow accustomed to..."

And torment it was--blessed and unbearable.

For each night, Aida would undo the clasps of her gown with casual grace, speaking of mundane things while Dale--warrior though he was--found his thoughts arrested and his words abandoned. He would freeze mid-sentence, gaze caught, heart ensnared, like a lad seeing love for the first time.

The image of his princess covered in nothing but her fiery red hair created an awe in his eyes that would not wane.

And Aida--Aida watched him with a secret satisfaction that bloomed her heart warm

It made her feel radiant. Worshipped. Beautiful in ways she had never thought herself to be.

And, most of all, it made her feel wholly and truly loved.

Chapter 31

Peace had brought trade, and trade had brought prosperity.

Ships from the southern tribes, as well as from the newly opened trading routes with Aurelia's merchant families, filled the docks of Thravenreach. The port buzzed with activity, a sign of a kingdom flourishing. Even King Halrix, in his far-reaching realm, had sent a royal commission for a vessel of his own, acknowledging the shipwrights of Thravenreach as unparalleled masters of their craft.

Aida watched it all unfold with a keen and steady eye, her once-guarded heart now fully entwined with the duties of leadership. The woman who had once rejected politics, who had turned away from the grim tides of war, now stood as a ruler of both steel and compassion, her decisions as firm as they were fair. Her mind, sharp and open to all possibilities, guided the kingdom through prosperous times.

In their private moments, Aida and Dale held no pretense. No titles. No rank. Simply Aida and Dale, as it had always been meant to be. Even in public, their connection remained genuine, and they walked side by side as equals.

One evening, beneath the soft glow of the moonlight that bathed the garden of moon lilies in pale silver light, Aida glanced at Dale, her voice a quiet confession. "I think I miss you now... even when you're in the next room. That's not normal, is it?"

Dale smiled, a knowing warmth in his eyes as his hand slid into hers. "It's not," he agreed, his voice teasing yet tender. "But I was hoping you'd reach that level of madness soon. So... does this mean we can move to the next chapter?"

Aida, curiosity piqued, tilted her head. "What chapter?"

Dale's grin deepened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "The one where we visit the Temple of Love again. Not to float this time, but to pray for a child. And maybe... practice too, in front of the goddess."

Aida flushed so deeply that not even the moonlight could shield her cheeks from the warmth of her embarrassment. She lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around his in a mixture of excitement and shyness.

As if on cue, Brinna came sauntering by, her keen ears catching the words she hadn't meant to hear. At the mention of the Temple of Love, Brinna shrieked in joyous laughter, skipping away like a girl who had just seen the sun rise for the first time. Aida, flustered beyond measure, shot a glare toward her. "Brinna--must you be so impertinent? Spying on your lord and lady now?"

Dale chuckled heartily at Aida's embarrassment, his laughter rich and full of affection. "It seems we have a very curious servant."

Aida huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, still red in the face, as Brinna's laughter echoed in the distance. "That girl will be the death of me," Aida muttered, exhausted.

Chapter 32

A week passed, and the steady rhythm of Thravenreach returned to its usual calm. Aida sat at her desk, quill in hand, diligently writing through the documents that had accumulated during her absence. The faint scent of ink and parchment filled the room, mingling with the quiet rustling of the pages as she signed her name with care.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Brinna entered, her face alight with excitement. "Aida! The border guard has informed us--Duke Dale is arriving!"

Aida's quill dropped, the ink splattering across the page as she sprang from her chair. Without another word, she rushed toward the balcony. Her heart quickened as her eyes scanned the distant horizon, and there, through the thickening trees, she saw him: Dale, riding proudly atop his steed, his smile melting the distance between them. He raised a hand in greeting, and Aida's breath caught in her chest.

Her heart was filled with joy, and as Dale approached, he waved to her, the warmth in his gaze unmistakable.

Later, over a lunch that was rich with warmth and the scent of roasted meats, Aida filled his wine glass herself. It was a small gesture, but one she loved--maids were not to touch the Duke's glass in her presence. As she handed him the goblet, she studied him with a knowing smile.

"I have handed over the reins of my camp to Tharen and Maela."

"So, you've been promoted?" she asked, though she didn't fully understand the workings of the Flamewood army hierarchy yet.

"No," Dale replied, his voice steady and calm, though his eyes were bright with determination. "I have the blessing of my father and my elder brothers. If the Lady of Thravenreach will permit me, I may start a new camp within the boundaries of Thravenreach and be the captain of the Duchy. This will allow me to be near my wife."

Aida's face broke into a broad smile, the warmth of it touching her very soul. "I will have to ask my Duke for I always consult him on matters of importance." Then she laughed and continued, her voice rich with affection."There is a clearance just outside the town, it overlooks this very palace. I will allow your camp there on one condition."

Dale raised an eyebrow, curious and eager. "Anything."

Aida's eyes sparkled mischievously as she leaned in, her voice dropping to a playful yet serious tone. "The captain may spend his days with his men, but Duke must sleep each night with his wife. No exceptions. No excuses."

Dale's smile widened, and he bowed low before her, his eyes gleaming with the certainty of a man who had won more battles than he cared to count, yet found his true victory in her. "A royal command I shall never disobey."

Before she could say another word, he closed the distance between them, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The kiss deepened, and an unladylike moan escaped Aida's lips, caught by the heat of the moment. Her cheeks flushed, for she was certain the maids had heard her.

Chapter 33

Many years hence, the Duke and Lady of Thravenreach arrived in Velmorra to attend the much-whispered wedding of Princess Serelis, the fairest daughter of Lord Aron. She was to wed as the second wife of King Halrix's youngest son, Sohem--a match more ornamental than strategic, a political union to appease rather than to advance.

Sohem was a charming and brave soul, yet with three elder brothers ahead of him, the throne was a dream far beyond his reach. Nevertheless, Lord Aron took solace in this small victory. Serelis, now of an age which many would deem too old for marriage, had seen her own schemes fail, and all attempts to secure a higher rank of royalty had come to naught. Desperate for an alliance, she would settle, even if it meant taking the position of a second wife to a king's younger son.

Yet, Aron's grander ambitions had also crumbled. He had failed to fracture the unity of the South, failed to regain Thravenreach, and, most bitterly, failed to humble Aida.

For Aida had carved a place of her own--one entirely beyond Aron's reach.

The Duke, resplendent in his Flamewood captain's uniform, wore the armbands of Thravenreach, a clear sign of his dual allegiance. Lady Aida, ever bold, had chosen to wear vibrant Flamewood linens--a scandalous departure from the usual muted hues of northern royalty. The gown, revealing more than most deemed appropriate, drew many eyes, and whispers fluttered like shadows in the crowd.

Serelis, radiant in her wedding gown, caught sight of the couple as they approached. Her eyes narrowed with visible disdain when they offered their well-wishes and gifts. Her voice, sweet but dripping with the unmistakable tones of nobility used to being the center of attention, cut through the air like a blade.

"Oh? That's the Duke of Thravenreach? I remember you being taller," she said, her gaze cool and appraising. Then her eyes fell on Aida, her lip curling in distaste. "And cousin Aida, how lovely to see you. Isn't the gown missing cloth around your bosom? How... quaint to see you dressed like savages."

Dale, ever the soldier at heart, cared little for such insults. Yet, he still tensed, uncertain how his wife would react.

But Aida merely smiled, her gaze steady and unwavering. "Some women dress to impress kings. Others dress to be queens. I dress to honour the customs of my father's Thravenreach and my husband's Flamewood." She paused, her smile sweet yet pointed. Then she curtsied, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken power. "Cousin Serelis, you look as beautiful as ever."

Turning to her uncle Aron, Aida curtsied gracefully once more. "And some princesses..." Her voice was honeyed, yet the sting was undeniable, "... remain lower in title, and even lower in grace."

The insult, veiled in sweetness, hung heavy in the air. Aron's face flushed crimson, but with King Halrix's entire court watching, and the southern nobles fawning over Aida like a beloved daughter, he held his temper, grinding his teeth in silence.

Aida, never one to leave an impression half-made, presented the newlyweds with a pair of spirited, Flamewood-trained horses--elegant, wild creatures known for their untamable nature. The symbolism was clear, and the message did not go unnoticed by those around them.

Later, as the day waned, Dale stepped forward to introduce their children to King Halrix. "My sons," he said with pride, ruffling the boys' hair, "take after me in both spirit and stare. And my daughter--red-haired and strong like her mother--has already begun to order her brothers about."

King Halrix laughed heartily, the sound genuine and warm. "Strong roots, strong fruit. May they bring peace and joy to both your lands."

Then, his voice grew somber as he turned to address both Dale and Aida. "Things are calm now, and peace and prosperity abound. But not for long. I am old. So is Chief Baran. The succession war looms, both in Aurelia and Flamewood. Calm will not last."

Dale, ever resolute, nodded. "We found a way before. We shall find a way again, your Majesty."

"My Duke will always have my support, your Majesty," Aida added, her voice unwavering in its loyalty.

Halrix nodded, raising his hand to bless their children. "In the summers, bring them to Silvercourt. The gardens there bloom like a piece of Eden."

And with that, the conversation shifted. No more talk of politics, no more weighty matters--just the quiet comforts of family and the passing of time.

Chapter 34

Back at Thravenreach, the cool sea breeze did blow as they watched their children play within their chamber with Brinna's daughters, under the careful watch of Brinna herself. Brinna has taken over the role of the chief nanny now.

Aida leaned toward her husband with a teasing grin, her voice low and playful.

"Tell me, Duke Flameborn," she whispered. "During the ball, your gaze lingered upon many Aurelian and Southern maidens. Have you found your interest in women beyond me now? Should I begin seeking a second wife for you? It is well-known in Flamewood customs to keep more than one, after all."

Dale had become quicker in wits, for he had spent too many days and nights with her. With a quiet whisper, he replied, "One of Aida is worth three women, and the same amount of trouble. I would rather keep you, even when you bring terror to my heart."

Aida placed a hand upon her chest in mock hurt. "You call me trouble, my lord?"

A smile curved upon Dale's lips. "Aye, but you are the trouble that brings me peace, Aida. Especially when my head rests here--" he gestured toward her bosom--"and all the world's worries disappear."

Aida flushed deeply, kissed him with a passion, and from the corner of the room, a loud groan came from their eldest.

"Ugh! Not again!"

"Can't you two wait until we're asleep?" chorused the rest of the children, Brinna's included. Brinna, ever mischievous, could not stop her laughter.

Aida laughed, her heart alight, and kissed her husband once more, deeper this time--unapologetic, radiant, and utterly in love.

"I shall settle them to sleep, Aida. You take your rest," Brinna winked. But upon seeing Aida's glare, she amended hastily, "I mean, Lady Aida."

Dale's laughter rang out, and the children joined in, their joyful sounds filling the room.

Later, in their chamber, as the two lay upon their bed sans any clothes or cover, Aida pulled Dale's face gently between her bosom.

"Here, rest now, my dear husband. Be at home," she said softly.

"Thank you, my dear wife," Dale murmured, sighing contentedly between her soft breasts. "You know, Aida, if you insist, I might be willing to take another red-haired wife."

Aida smiled, her eyes closed in peaceful contentment, as she ran her fingers through his hair. "No, you do not, Dale. No, you do not."

Ending

And they lived--boldly, stubbornly, and blissfully--ever after, and forever.

Thus ends the tale of Princess Aida and Captain Dale, and the Duchy of Thravenreach--a love story that the bards shall sing of for many generations.