LUCIAN
The ballroom of Ravenscroft Palace glowed like a jewel beneath the autumn light.
Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, scattering their glow across silk banners and polished marble. The air was filled with the soft hum of conversation, the rustle of gowns, and the laughter of courtiers who, for once, were gathered not for politics but for celebration.
It was Lucian's birthday, the first since the storms of the previous year had passed.
Evelina stood near the edge of the grand hall, her gown of silver-blue satin catching the light as she watched him move among the guests. He was radiant in his simplicity, his dark hair tied neatly, his formal coat bearing the Ravenscroft crest newly restored in gold. He spoke to each guest with the warmth and grace of a man at peace, no longer the sharp and silent strategist she had once known in the shadows.
When their eyes met across the room, her heart still caught the same way it had the first time she had seen him in that moonlit garden months ago.
The Crown Prince raised his glass to him. "To Lord Ravenscroft," he declared, his voice ringing across the chamber, "whose loyalty and honor have brought peace where once there was only doubt."
The guests echoed the toast. Lucian smiled, raising his own glass in reply. "To peace," he said, "and to those who never stopped believing in it."
The applause that followed was soft but sincere.
As the orchestra began to play, Lucian crossed the floor toward Evelina. The crowd parted around him as if by instinct. When he reached her, he extended a hand.
"Will you dance with me?"
Her smile trembled. "You already know I will."
He led her to the center of the ballroom. The first notes of a waltz filled the air, and they began to move together. The room seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them turning slowly beneath the light.
It was not just a dance. It was the closing of one life and the opening of another.
"You look as though this is all a dream," Lucian said quietly, his hand steady at her waist.
"It feels like one," she whispered. "Sometimes I still wake and think none of it could be true. That the court still whispers and the letters still come."
He smiled gently. "Let them whisper. They can no longer touch us."
She looked up at him, the light catching the curve of his jaw, the calm in his eyes. "And you? Do you finally feel free?"
"I do now," he said. "You are my peace, Evee."
Her heart felt too full for words.
When the dance ended, the music did not stop. It only softened, as if the orchestra itself sensed what was about to happen. Lucian turned to the guests gathered around them.
"My friends," he began, his voice carrying easily across the hall. "For many years I thought duty was the measure of a man. That loyalty to the Crown was all that mattered. But I learned that duty without love is a hollow thing. Tonight, I wish to give thanks not just for my life, but for the woman who gave it meaning."
The room fell utterly silent.
Lucian turned to Evelina, dropping to one knee before her. The breath caught in her throat.
"My dearest Evelina Everleigh," he said, his voice steady, his eyes bright with quiet certainty. "You stood beside me when the world turned its back. You gave me courage when I doubted myself. You are my heart, my compass, and the light that brought me home. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
The crowd held its breath.
Evelina's hands trembled as she pressed them to her lips, the tears she had held back all evening finally breaking free. "Yes," she whispered, then louder, her voice clear and sure. "Yes, I will."
The hall erupted in applause. The orchestra swelled with triumphant music.
Lucian rose, taking her hands in his and kissing them softly. The world blurred into gold and sound. Around them, the nobles cheered, the Queen smiled through her tears, and even the King inclined his head with rare approval.
That night, the stars over Ravenscroft shone brighter than any chandelier.
EVELINA
The months that followed were a blur of joy and movement.
Winter came early that year, dressing the northern skies in silver frost. The palace was transformed for the wedding, its halls hung with garlands of white roses and evergreen. The scent of pine and snow mingled in the air as guests from across the realm arrived to witness the union of the new Duke and Duchess of Ravenscroft.
Evelina stood before the great mirror on the morning of the ceremony, her gown a masterpiece of lace and silk, its train flowing like a river of light. Anna wept quietly as she fixed the final pin in her hair.
"You are perfect," her maid said through her tears.
Evelina smiled, her heart pounding. "He is going to laugh at me for crying before it even begins."
When the music began, she walked down the aisle lined with candles that glowed like stars. Lucian waited at the altar, his eyes soft and steady.
Their vows were spoken not as ritual, but as truth.
"I promise you my strength," Lucian said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "In peace and in storm."
"And I promise you my heart," Evelina whispered. "In light and in shadow."
When the crowns of Ravenscroft were placed upon their heads, the hall erupted in applause. The bells rang across the frozen fields, their sound carrying far into the winter air.
They were Duke and Duchess now, not of politics or ambition, but of something far deeper.
That night, as snow fell beyond the windows, they stood together on the balcony overlooking the northern lands. The world below glittered under moonlight, endless and silent.
Lucian's arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Welcome home," he murmured.
She leaned against him, smiling. "It finally feels like one."
A year passed.
The seasons turned from ice to bloom, then to warmth again. Lucian thrived under their care. The mines reopened, the villages prospered, and laughter returned to the halls that had once known only silence.
Evelina grew to love the quiet rhythm of the North, the sound of snow against glass, the deep green of summer forests, the laughter of children in the courtyard.
One morning, when the air was cool with the first promise of autumn again, she woke to a strange stillness. The sunlight slanted through the curtains, soft and pale. She rose to reach for her robe, but her vision swayed. The room tilted gently.
"Anna," she whispered, her voice faint.
Her maid hurried in and caught her just before she could fall. "Madame, Sit down, please."
Evelina tried to protest, but her words came out weakly. The next thing she knew, she was lying upon the bed, her head light and her heart pounding.
"Fetch the doctor," Anna called. "And send word to His Grace at once."
Within minutes, the room filled with quiet urgency. Lucian arrived first, his expression pale with worry. He knelt beside the bed, taking Evelina's hand in his. "My love," he said softly, his voice breaking. "What happened?"
She managed a small smile. "I am fine. I think I stood too quickly."
But when the doctor arrived and examined her, his face softened into something that was not alarm, but quiet joy.
"Your Grace" he said, bowing slightly, "there is no cause for fear. The Duchess is not ill. She is with child."
The room went silent.
Lucian stared for a moment as if he had not heard correctly. "You are certain?"
"Entirely," the doctor said, smiling. "It will be a summer birth, by my estimation."
Evelina's breath caught. She turned her gaze to Lucian, whose expression slowly shifted from shock to wonder.
He laughed softly, the sound breaking through the tension that had filled the room. "A child," he whispered. "Our child."
Tears welled in her eyes. "I think it was the summer," she said. "The northern air must have been kinder than I thought."
Lucian leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Then it is the North that will bless us twice over."
Anna began to cry, half in joy and half in relief. The doctor quietly excused himself, leaving the two of them alone.
Lucian sat beside her, his fingers brushing over hers. "You have given me everything I never knew I wanted," he said.
Evelina smiled faintly. "We have given it to each other."
Outside, the morning light poured through the window, catching the faint shimmer of snow still clinging to the pines beyond the walls.
Evelina looked out and felt a peace deeper than any she had known.
The war was long over. The court was a memory.
Here, in the quiet heart of the North, life was beginning again.