Seraphina had never thought the walk from the ballroom to her chambers could feel so long.Moments ago, Kael's fingers had brushed hers in that final lingering touch before tradition pulled them apart — the last time they would be separated before the night claimed them as husband and wife.
The corridors seemed quieter than usual, the hushed steps of her maids echoing off the marble floor. They didn't speak, but the air around them carried an almost mischievous excitement.
The maids were waiting.
They swarmed around her like a gentle storm, all soft hands and quick efficiency, their faces bright with conspiratorial smiles. Candles burned low in every corner of her chambers, spilling warm gold light over polished wood and rich draperies. The scent of jasmine and rose clung to the air, a fragrance so sweet it was almost dizzying.
Her wedding gown was carefully lifted away, its weight leaving her shoulders strangely bare. In its place came silken layers so soft they slid over her skin like water — a nightgown of pale cream, almost sheer in the candlelight, embroidered with tiny silver threads that shimmered when she moved.
Her hair was brushed until it gleamed, each stroke of the comb slow and deliberate, pinned loosely so strands could fall around her face in that effortless way that took far too much effort to achieve.
It was… deliberate.Every choice, every detail, designed for one purpose.
They didn't say it aloud, but Seraphina saw it in their eyes — the expectation that this night would be full of passion, that the palace would wake tomorrow knowing the Crown Prince and his bride had sealed their vows in more than words.
"Your Highness," one of the senior maids said, adjusting the fall of her gown, "everything is ready in the royal chambers. The fire's been stoked, the wine poured, the bed—" She caught herself, lips curving into a knowing smile. "Perfect."
Seraphina's cheeks warmed. "You've been… thorough."
"As we should be," the woman replied without the faintest trace of shame. "It is a night to remember."
If only they knew.
Seraphina's heart wasn't racing for the reason they imagined.It wasn't the thought of silk sheets or candlelight.It was the thought of being alone with Kael — truly alone, with no war council to interrupt them, no courtly eyes dissecting their every glance, no protective distance to hide behind.
Just the two of them.And that, strangely, was more terrifying than any magic duel.
She laughed under her breath, but the sound was soft and shaky.
Kael's side of the palace wasn't faring much better.
His valet had stripped away the ceremonial armor of the crown prince, replacing it with a robe of deep navy trimmed in gold, the fabric loose enough to speak of comfort yet fine enough to carry the weight of royal expectation.
The chambers had been transformed — candles glowing on every surface, casting molten light over the room; the bed draped in soft linens; a small table laid with a decanter of dark wine, two glasses, and a tray of sugared figs.
It was absurd.
And yet Kael could almost hear the palace whispers forming already — that their wedding night would be as heated as the battlefield tales they told about him.
In truth?He was nervous.
Not the kind of nervous that made hands shake before a duel — but the kind that came when something mattered too much to risk even the smallest misstep.
When the hour came, he crossed the silent corridor between their rooms. The gold trim of his robe caught the candlelight, and the faintest smirk tugged at the corners of the guards' mouths. They thought they were subtle. They weren't.
He paused for a heartbeat outside her door.
The door opened before he could knock. A maid slipped out, dipped into a bow, and vanished without a word, her expression a blend of triumph and mischief.
Seraphina stood in the doorway.
The candlelight caught the silver in her gown's embroidery, turning her into something both fragile and unshakable.
For a long moment, Kael could only look at her — not at the nightgown, not at the soft fall of her hair, but at her eyes. Eyes that were uncertain, cautious, and yet, beneath it all, warm.
She looked away first. "They've… prepared everything."
"I can see that," he said, his voice softer than he intended as he stepped into the room.
The air between them was heavy with all the unspoken things neither dared to name. She stood by the window, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her gown.
Kael crossed the space slowly, deliberately, until he stood close enough to feel the faint tremor in her breath.
"Seraphina," he said, taking her hands in his, "if you are nervous, tell me. If you are uncomfortable, I will not lay a hand on you tonight. Or any night you do not want me to."
Her head lifted sharply. "You… mean that?"
"I would sooner burn this palace to the ground than make you feel trapped in it."
The words landed between them like a vow, heavier than gold, stronger than steel.
For a heartbeat, she could only stare at him. And then, as the tension bled from her shoulders, something shifted.
She didn't step back.She didn't hide her hands in her skirts.
Instead, she let him keep them — and for the first time that night, her smile reached her eyes.
Maybe the maids had been wrong.Maybe this night wouldn't be the one they imagined.
But it would be one neither of them would ever forget.
Kael picked up the glass with a solemn air, as though he were handling a fragile artifact. Seraphina mirrored him, her fingers trembling slightly.
"Here goes nothing," Kael said, lifting the glass.
"Nothing being the keyword," Seraphina replied, gripping the glass with far too much force.
They brought the glasses toward their lips… and promptly wobbled, spilling a few drops onto the edge of the table.
"Oh!" Seraphina yelped, blushing furiously. "I… I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to," Kael echoed, his own mouth twitching into a smirk as a drop of wine landed on his sleeve. "I think this glass might be cursed."
Seraphina laughed, a high, nervous sound that only made him smile wider. "It's definitely cursed. Or maybe it's the two of us."
They tried again, slower this time, glancing at each other like conspirators in a ridiculous plot. Kael tilted the glass — too much, too little — and some wine ran down the side. Seraphina tried to help him steady it, their hands brushing, only to jostle it again.
"I can't—" Kael groaned, laughing despite himself. "I can't even drink properly. I'm… I'm going to fail at this entirely."
"You're making it worse!" Seraphina exclaimed, giggling uncontrollably as she tried to stabilize her own glass. "We're doomed!"
Finally, after a few more failed attempts, Kael gave up and set the glass down with a theatrical sigh. "Fine. We'll toast later. I think the wine fears us."
Seraphina leaned against him, still chuckling. "At least we can laugh about it."
"Exactly," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "If this is how we handle wine, I can only imagine what the rest of our life will be like."
"Hopefully just as clumsy," she whispered, smiling, her heart lighter than it had been all day.
And in that moment, with candlelight flickering and the wine glass defeated, the tension of their first night melted into warmth, laughter, and the knowledge that they didn't have to be perfect — only together.
After a few more awkward attempts, Kael finally gave up on the wine and flopped onto the bed with a dramatic groan.
"Truly," he said, propping himself on one elbow, "I've faced assassins, rogue magicians, and ancient prophecies, but nothing prepared me for drinking in front of my wife."
Seraphina snorted, her nerves loosening. "You're ridiculous," she said, crossing the room and perching at the edge of the bed. "I can hardly take you seriously, and yet here you are… my husband."
Kael reached out, catching her hand. "You see? Even now, I need you to remind me I'm allowed to be human."
Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment she hesitated, trembling slightly. The maids' teasing words echoed faintly in her mind, and suddenly the weight of the night pressed down. This wasn't just a silly, awkward moment anymore. This was them. Alone. Together.
"Kael… I…" she began, then stopped, unsure how to voice everything swirling inside her.
He leaned closer, his forehead brushing hers. "You don't have to do anything you don't want," he murmured. "Tonight… we take it slowly. I promise. No expectations. Just us."
Her breath caught. Relief washed over her in equal measure with the fluttering nerves. She nodded softly, letting him pull her down beside him.
They laughed again, quietly this time, sharing the intimacy of clumsy closeness — brushing hands, fidgeting, teasing each other about who spilled more wine, who blinked too fast, who was too serious.
And in between the laughter, there were soft touches — hands finding shoulders, brushing hair back, fingers intertwining — gestures full of tenderness and care. Not a single expectation, only the pure, thrilling presence of each other.
Kael whispered against her hair, "I've waited for this night longer than I can count… but I'll wait as long as you need. You are my beginning, Seraphina. Always."
Tears pricked her eyes, but she laughed through them, burying her face against his chest. "And you, Kael… you're ridiculous, but I love you anyway."
They stayed like that for hours, talking softly, laughing nervously, discovering each other in ways that went far beyond words. Every accidental brush, every shared smile, every heartbeat echoed their newfound closeness.
And when the night finally wrapped them in its quiet, the nervousness had melted into something far deeper: trust, love, and the simple joy of finally being together without pretense or duty.
Kael brushed a strand of hair from her face, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, my wife," he whispered.
"Goodnight… my husband," Seraphina replied, and for the first time, the words felt as natural as breathing.
The room was quiet, filled only with the warmth of their closeness, the flicker of candlelight, and the unspoken promise that this was only the beginning.