Ariana ran.
She didn't remember when her legs had started moving—only that the suffocating silence of the corridor echoed the noise inside her head. The slap burned on her cheek, but it was her chest that hurt more. Every step up the staircase felt like dragging chains behind her. Chains forged from her father's cold accusations, her stepmother's scornful whispers, and the weight of a life never truly hers.
"You've always been the problem."
"A disappointment."
"You were born to obey, not dream."
Their words circled her like vultures, pecking at her composure, her dignity. Her father's fury, the Empress's manipulation, the eyes of the court that watched and speculated—each one stripped her bare. Her public grace, her carefully cultivated image, shattered in a single outburst. And what did it change?
Nothing.
Her breath hitched. Her heart thudded wildly, erratically, as though trying to break free from the ribs that caged it.
Ariana stumbled onto the terrace, the stars above distant and silent, as if indifferent to her pain. The wind rushed to meet her—cold, sharp, yet strangely comforting—brushing against the sting of her father's slap like a whispered apology from the night itself.
Her breaths came In shuddering gasps, heart pounding with the weight of all she had endured—her stepmother's venom, her father's blame, the humiliation, the public image she had fought so hard to maintain now crumbling in her outburst.
Her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed onto the cold stone floor, her back sliding down the wall as she pulled her knees tightly to her chest.
She closed her eyes, tears still slipping down her cheeks as she rested her head against the wall. For a moment, she allowed the wind to cradle her, as if it alone understood. In its silence, she found a sliver of peace, however fleeting.
After a while, She got up.
She walked to the edge, arms crossed over her chest, the wind rustling the pale fabric of her nightgown. Below, the rose garden lay in shadow, the memory of its former beauty glowing faintly in the moonlight. It had once been their mother's sanctuary. Now it was overgrown, like a forgotten dream.
Footsteps echoed behind her. She didn't need to turn.
Xavier said quietly as he put a warm shawl on Ariana's shoulder.
Ariana exhaled clutching the shawl . "And you always find me."
Xavier came to stand beside her, silent for a moment. "Do you remember when you used to dance down there for mum?" he said, nodding toward the garden. "And sing that song, mama always hummed"
"I do, and you and Danny, jealous as always, teased me and tried to ruin my performance."
Xavier chuckled , nodding toward the garden he said "She always said roses dance best in the moonlight."
"She also said they need thorns to survive." Ariana gave a bitter smile. "I'm still trying to figure out what my thorns are."
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled something from his coat pocket—a small silver brooch shaped like a rose. "I had this preserved for you, It was mother's. She was going to gift it to you when you get married."
Ariana's lips parted as she took it gently. "You kept it? I thought Marila burned everything of Mother's when she became the madam of the house."
"I wouldn't let that happen." Xavier sighed.
Ariana cradled the keepsake, her voice trembling as she spoke.
"I've missed you so much… ever since you left for Charleston."
She blinked hard, fighting the sting in her eyes. "Everything changed after that. There was no one left to shield me… and I didn't know how to fight back."
Her lips quivered. "Marila… Casadey… they made sure I never forgot my place. And Danny…"
Her voice broke at the name. "He left us too soon."
She looked up at Xavier, eyes glassy and tired. "Sometimes I wonder what would've become of me if you weren't my brother. Maybe I'd be married off to some cruel old man, or sold to someone who'd see me as nothing more than a thing to own."
Xavier's voice was quiet, almost choked.
"I'm sorry… for leaving you alone."
He sat beside her, staring ahead as if the memories were too heavy to look her in the eye.
"When I heard about Danny… I realized how blind I'd been. So caught up chasing my ambitions, I didn't see how much you and Danny were suffering here—right under our roof."
His hands clenched. "If only I'd understood sooner… that Father was never someone we could trust. That everything he did—every smile, every decision—was a calculated move in one of his twisted games."
A bitter breath escaped him. "The only reason he didn't take a second wife while Mother was alive… was because she was a Farlan. The Empress's blood. That protection was the only thing keeping his mask in place."
He turned to her, his eyes aching with remorse.
"I should have seen it. I should have done something. Maybe then Danny would still be here… and you wouldn't have had to carry this alone."
His voice broke. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I should've been a better brother."
Ariana leaned against him, her cheek brushing his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his.
"I forgive you," she murmured, her grip tightening ever so slightly. "You had your own share of burdens, Xavier… and I never truly understood that until now."
A soft silence passed between them, broken only by the wind rustling through the leaves below. Then she whispered, "What now? I doubt you'll be able to stop the marriage this time."
Xavier exhaled, eyes distant. "No. This time… I cannot."
Ariana nodded, eyes downcast but calm. "I understand. And I don't blame you. You've done far more for me than I could ever ask."
She sniffled lightly, then lifted her gaze to the sky. "What do you think of Count Ravenclive?"
Xavier's jaw tightened thoughtfully. "I think… he's a man of conviction. He doesn't bow for pride, only for purpose. The way he groveled before the Emperor—not for his own gain, but for his people—spoke volumes. His scars on the battlefield… they weren't just earned. They were chosen."
He turned to look at her gently. "And even if the rumors are true—if he's every bit as ruthless as they say—I am always here for you, Ariana. You're my sister. You won't face this alone."
Ariana let out a soft laugh.
"You're lying again," she teased. "I've heard Ravenclare is nearly a week's journey from the capital. I doubt you'll be able to protect me from that far."
Xavier smirked. "Oh, don't test me, dear sister. I'm far more powerful than you think. Besides, you're not such a weakling yourself—I taught you how to wield a sword, didn't I? If things go south, just unleash the beast I know you are."
"Me? A beast?" she rolled her eyes. "I handle a dagger far better, thank you very much. Danny taught me. That brat was a better teacher than you ever were."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll give you that one."
There was a pause, comfortable and familiar.
"We should head back," Xavier said at last. "Or you'll end up with a runny nose like you always did when you were little. On your wedding day, no less—it's the day after tomorrow, isn't it?"
"Yes," she sighed. "And for the record, I was a graceful child. You were the one with the snotty nose and forget not this is coming from someone who is 5 years younger than you ,Dear Brother."
They laughed, the sound light against the night air, as they made their way back down the stairs toward their chambers—just a brother and sister, caught in the brief warmth of shared memories before the world changed again.
The wedding day arrived.
The scent of cedar and pressed linen hung in the air—heavy, pristine, like the silence before a storm.
Rael stood before the mirror, cloaked in the sharp lines of his ceremonial wedding attire. He looked every bit the noble Count: distant, composed, untouchable. His fingers moved with surgical precision as he adjusted his cuffs, as if perfection could protect him.
A servant approached to adjust his cloak, but Rael waved him off with a flick of the hand.
The door closed behind the retreating figure, leaving the room stiflingly quiet. He stared at his reflection—not with pride, but with a quiet, unreadable dread. His face held an unsettling expression. A man walking toward a future he hadn't chosen.
The door creaked open.
"I never thought I'd live to see the day," said a voice, light with mock astonishment. "Count Ravenclive in a wedding coat. Though, if I'm honest… you look more like a man being marched to his execution."
Rael didn't turn. "I don't recall requesting your presence, Your Highness."
"Ouch."
Hendrick winced theatrically as he strolled in, all infuriating casual grace. "You wound me. Can't a prince attend his favorite brother's wedding without needing an invitation?"
"I didn't know we were brothers."
Hendrick chuckled, undeterred. "Ouch again. Careful, you're making me emotional. Is that nervousness I detect?"
Rael's silence was answer enough.
The prince circled behind him, eyeing the rigid line of Rael's shoulders. He reached out and adjusted the collar of Rael's coat with surprising care, the gesture uncharacteristically meticulous.
"Loosen up, Ravenclive," he murmured. "The tenser you look, the more they'll enjoy the spectacle."
Rael's jaw tightened. "There can't be any mistakes today. One wrong move, and they won't come for me—they'll come for Ravenclare."
Hendrick's smirk wavered. His hands paused.
"You overthink everything," he said more quietly. "Try thinking of yourself for once."
Rael stepped away, brushing his collar back into place. "I lost that luxury at thirteen—the day they sent me to the front lines."
He turned then, meeting Hendrick's gaze. His eyes were cold flint.
"You remember that day, don't you? You were here. In the palace. Eating strawberries. Reciting poetry."
The silence between them thickened, heavy with history.
"…Yeah," Hendrick said at last, eyes lowering. "I was."
He adjusted his cufflink, the movement small, aimless.
"I can't undo what was done," he said, voice low. "But I'm here now. Even if all I can do is fix your damn collar and piss you off before you walk into hell."
Rael looked at him—really looked—and saw past the grin. Beneath it was sincerity. Guilt. And something that almost resembled brotherhood.
"You're still annoying," he muttered. "But I suppose I'm thankful you came."
Hendrick's grin returned, brighter than before. "Am I dreaming? Did you just thank me? Marriage really is a miracle. Wait—say that again. I wasn't listening properly."
Rael rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
There was a knock on the door.
"Lord Ravenclive, it's time," came Leon's voice.
Rael exhaled slowly. "Let's get this over with."
"I'll be right beside you," Hendrick said, matching his stride. "If you collapse during the vows, I'll catch you. Dramatically. Like a proper brother."
"Try it, and I'll stab you with the ceremonial sword."
Hendrick suddenly pulled him into a tight hug. Rael stiffened in surprise.
"I needed this," Hendrick said, his voice quieter now. Then, flustered, he stepped back and cleared his throat. "Alright. I'll meet you downstairs."
And just like that, he was gone.