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Lucina
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I stared at her for a long moment, the desert wind sweeping between us, carrying dust and the distant sounds of rebuilding—hammers striking stone, murmured voices, the groan of strained wood. All of it faded into a dull hum as her words settled deep in my chest.
Principal.
The word felt absurd. Heavy. Almost laughable.
Me?
I searched her face, half-expecting to find teasing there—but there was none. Only sincerity. That quiet, unwavering resolve she carried whenever she spoke of protecting others in ways that didn't involve blood or steel.
A low breath slipped from my lungs before I realized I was holding it.
I had faced Shifters without fear. I had stood before shattered battlements and commanded men to rebuild from ashes. Yet this—this request—unnerved me far more than any battlefield ever had.
My fingers curled slowly at my side, the calluses earned through years of combat rough against my palm. These hands had wielded weapons, carried the dying, ended lives when necessary. The idea of them holding books instead of blades felt… strange. Unfamiliar. Almost undeserved.
Her words echoed again.
I don't want anyone else in this kingdom to ever feel the humiliation I felt.
My jaw tightened.
I remembered her then—not as the radiant woman before me, but as she once was. Silent. Watching from the edges. Pretending not to care when others spoke words she couldn't read. The way she had masked her pain behind stubborn dignity. The fury I'd felt when I realized what the world had taken from her simply because no one had bothered to teach her.
And she had overcome it all.
Not through vengeance. Not through hatred.
But through patience. Through kindness. Through the quiet, relentless belief that knowledge should never belong only to the powerful.
I let out a slow, almost humorless breath, shaking my head faintly as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.
"You really never forget anything, do you?" I muttered, more to myself than to her.
Her expression softened further at that—triumphant, but gentle. As if she already knew the answer I hadn't spoken yet.
I met her gaze again, and for a heartbeat, I saw the future she was imagining: children running through temple halls instead of hiding in ruins, voices raised in laughter instead of screams, a kingdom healing not just its walls—but its people.
The weight of her faith pressed against my ribs.
I swallowed, the words she had invoked—your vow—resonating painfully clear in my mind.
My smile lingered, faint and conflicted, as I looked at her—this woman who had a way of turning obligations into hopes, and burdens into purpose.
I watched as she finished her argument, her white hair catching the moonlight and framing a face full of earnest conviction. Every strand seemed to glow, a halo of determination surrounding her. She wasn't just asking—she was calling in the old debt, the one I had sworn never to forget.
"Do you remember how you vowed never to forget my kindness?" she challenged, a playful, knowing glint in her silver eyes. "You can atone for what you did by teaching the new generation."
I chuckled softly, the sound low and amused, raising a hand to my mouth in mock exasperation. The faint curve of my lips, the subtle quirk of my brow, was all the answer she needed.
"Yes, My Lady," I confirmed, my voice firm yet gentle, accepting the role of the new school's principal. The weight of responsibility settled comfortably on my shoulders, mingled with the quiet pride of knowing I could make a real difference.
Time moved on, carrying stories of our deeds like whispers across the Kingdom of Tayar. Tales of her gentle hands healing the wounded, of her tireless devotion to those in pain, spread far and wide. The people's voices grew louder in admiration, praising their wise and kind-hearted Queen.
I found myself immersed in my new duties. Teaching the children was nothing like facing a battlefield—there were no blood-stained swords or life-and-death decisions—but it was challenging in a way that demanded patience, empathy, and creativity. And the satisfaction I felt when a child finally understood a concept, or when their eyes lit up with pride, was a quiet joy unlike any I had ever known.
The school flourished, a sanctuary for children aged five to twelve, where status and lineage mattered little. Knowledge became a gift freely given, and hope flowed alongside it. Stories even reached distant villages of Lucina's work with the former Queen, ensuring future Queens could safely bring Draconian children into the world, and of her endless contributions to healing and research.
Later that evening, the full moon cast a silvery glow across the palace's gleaming white domes. I stood by the window, resting my arms on the cool stone sill, breathing in the night air, letting the calm wash over me.
"What a lovely night," I murmured softly, my voice almost blending with the whisper of the breeze. My mind wandered, inevitably drawn to him. I smiled at the thought. I wonder what Hakan is doing right now…
A soft click startled me. The door opened. My pulse quickened.
There he was—Hakan. Majestic even in simplicity, the dark waves of his hair falling perfectly over his forehead, his torso bare beneath the rich purple of his outer robe.
"Lucina," he said, his voice a deep, warm rumble that made my chest tighten.
My heart leapt, and fatigue vanished instantly. "Hakan!" I exclaimed, my voice bright and joyous. I dashed across the room, the air seemingly parting for me, and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against him.
He held me firmly, his presence grounding and thrilling all at once. "Are you done with all your work today?" he asked, his tone both tender and teasing.
"That's right. I was just heading back. I missed you so much," I admitted, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.
A satisfied smile spread across his handsome features. "Our people have been full of praise recently," he said, pride threading every word.
I let a soft laugh escape me, feeling the weight of the day lift as I leaned into him again. "I was just heading back. I missed you so much," I repeated, my voice lighter this time, filled with warmth.
He slid a large, warm hand up to cup my cheek, thumb stroking gently. "According to them," he continued, "everyone is healthy, education is freely available… and babies can be delivered safely thanks to their Queen."
A blush rose on my cheeks at his words, and I leaned into his touch unconsciously. "I was just doing my job," I murmured, attempting a modest denial.
He gave a private smile, one that carried both amusement and affection, before letting his hand drift to rest on my shoulder. "I should do my duty as well," he murmured, the tone shifting, deepening with intent.
"W-what do you mean…?" I stammered, a shiver running down my spine as the intensity in his eyes pinned me.
His grip tightened ever so slightly as he leaned closer, voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "I've fulfilled my responsibilities as king, but I still have my duties as your husband."
The realization hit me in a soft gasp. My heartbeat quickened.
He moved closer, lips brushing against mine in a tantalizing whisper. "As much as I want to hug you and shower you with love and praise…" His fingers traced the curve of my jaw in a soft, deliberate RUSTLE.
"...first, I want to continue where we left off last time."
"But it's almost time for Martha's—" I began, breathless, invoking duty I knew I had already chosen to sidestep.
He cut me off with a slight brush of his hand across my cheek. "I've already left her with Titi," he said, eyes sparkling with playful dominance.
Then his lips claimed mine, the world narrowing to the warmth of him, the silkiness of the moment.
Pulling back slightly, he looked at me with earnest intent. "Let's get married already," he breathed, voice thick with devotion. "It will be the most magnificent wedding in honor of your incredible achievements."
He began listing plans with gleaming excitement. "The new Queen's palace will be made entirely out of gold. I'll prepare the highest-quality ornaments and furniture as well."
I shook my head, overwhelmed, a soft laugh escaping me. "There's no need to go that far…"
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"There's no need to go that far…" I murmured, slightly overwhelmed by his extravagant plans—a palace of gold, the finest ornaments, furniture fit for royalty. My chest fluttered nervously, a mixture of awe and bashfulness threading through my voice.
He paused, his dark eyes locking onto mine, a flicker of something serious crossing his striking features. A soft, teasing chuckle escaped him. "Are you trying to insult me?"
I blinked, genuinely startled. "I—I would never!" I stammered, the words spilling out faster than I intended.
Hakan leaned in, his expression softening, sincerity radiating from him. "People across the entire continent are filled with admiration for you," he explained, his voice low and deliberate. "If I don't treat you with the respect you deserve, everyone will start questioning me."
"But still…" I murmured, my gaze dropping to the floor, unwilling to meet the intensity of his stare. My hands fidgeted, fingers curling nervously.
He lifted my chin gently, tilting my face up until our eyes met again. The depth of his gaze sent a warmth blooming through my chest. "You deserve the very best, Lucina," he declared, his voice unwavering. His hand gave mine a slight, reassuring squeeze before he knelt, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles.
My heart did a frantic little 'ba-bump' against my ribs, as if it wanted to escape entirely.
"I heard that this is how you honor and respect the woman you love in the Kingdom of Brion," I whispered, cheeks warming. My voice wavered slightly. "Hakan!"
He gazed back at me, eyes shimmering with tenderness. "Don't ever forget what you mean to me, Lucina," he said, his words threading through me like a quiet promise.
"Okay," I replied softly, a small smile curving my lips, my nervousness mingling with affection.
He rose to his feet, pulling me close once more. The warmth of his presence pressed against me, his closeness making my mind whirl with a dizzying mixture of joy and anticipation.
"There will be a lot of guests at our wedding," I murmured, trying to steady my racing thoughts. "I don't want a bump to be showing when I wear my dress."
A suggestive 'HMM…' rumbled from his chest, low and intimate. I felt his hand slide down my back, resting gently against my lower abdomen, and a shiver ran through me.
Without warning, he swept me up into his arms. His strength and ease left me breathless as he carried me across the room, each of his steps—STEP, STEP—resonating in the quiet luxury of the chamber. My heart raced not just from the movement, but from the undeniable closeness between us.
He laid me down gently, his eyes never leaving mine, holding me in that shared gaze that felt like the world had shrunk to only the two of us. He followed, settling beside me, propping himself up on one arm.
For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by a soft TAP of his fingers against the silk of my dress. His voice was a low murmur, a gentle question carried on the night air. "Then just say the word and I'll stop," he asked, eyes soft yet intent, glancing down at my lips.
The moonlight streaming through the window bathed us in a soft, ethereal glow, painting our forms in silver and shadow. The question lingered between us, heavy with weight and anticipation—a final check on my consent.
I didn't speak. I offered only a small, quiet smile. That was all the answer he needed.
His lips met mine in a tender, consuming kiss. KISS.