The fortress gleamed under the evening glow, obsidian walls alight with lanterns, casting fractured reflections across polished stone. The once-forgotten capital of Stygian now pulsed with order, wealth, and power—and tonight, the empire celebrated.
The grand hall had been transformed for the homecoming banquet. Stained-glass windows filtered moonlight across the vaulted ceilings. Banners bearing the imperial sigil—the three-legged wolf beneath a golden sun—draped the walls. Tables lined the vast space, laden with crystal decanters, polished silver, and the finest delicacies gathered from every vassal state under Krovzaryan's expanding rule.
Nobles, officials, and military commanders filled the chamber—newly appointed lords whose territories stretched from the conquered frontier to the imperial heartlands. Their polished attire, ranging from dark embroidered velvets to battle-forged steel, reflected the merging of governance and conquest that defined the empire's ascent.
At the center of it all, Luciana stood beside Erebus, her presence radiant beneath the towering arches.
She wore deep ivory silk embroidered with obsidian and silver threads, phoenixes woven subtly into the fabric, acknowledging both her Amanécerian lineage and her new station. Her snow-white hair, adorned with understated jewels, shimmered beneath the hall's candlelight.
The men—nobles, commanders, envoys alike—approached in respectful succession, offering praise beneath the formal greetings.
"Your Highness, your reputation precedes you," one remarked, eyes lingering too long for Erebus' liking. "They spoke of your intelligence—your mastery over court diplomacy—but words fall short."
Another bowed deeply, voice smoother than necessary.
"Krovzaryan is fortunate. Beauty such as yours hasn't graced these halls in generations."
More followed—their compliments cloaked in political etiquette, but Erebus caught the glances, the quiet admiration thinly veiled beneath their rehearsed restraint.
His jaw tensed, one hand flexing along the edge of his cloak as he observed, silent, marking each man's face, each smile that hovered too long.
Luciana, composed as ever, received the words with practiced neutrality. Her replies were courteous but distant, her posture unwavering despite the veiled scrutiny, the stifled envy, the open admiration rippling through the room.
Mina busied herself at the hall's edge, cradling Ra'el as the infant slept soundly against her shoulder. Hades clung nearby, his dark eyes wide with quiet curiosity, while Nemesis darted between groups of attendants, his small wings twitching with excitement.
Lilith hovered close to Mina, newly assigned as her attendant, ensuring the young princes remained shielded amidst the shifting crowds.
Calypso was poised and sharp-eyed as she took up her station as Luciana's lady-in-waiting. Her expression betrayed none of her personal ambition, only steady competence and quiet loyalty as she flanked Luciana through the formalities.
Lucius, was presented as companion to Hades and Ra'el—carefully selected as playmate, already trained in court etiquette and destined for a future post among the young heirs' inner circle.
Nemesis had his own companion introduced—a sharp-witted boy with bronze skin with deep brown hair and black eyes, Lilith's son, chosen to grow alongside him as aide and confidant when the time came. He looked a lot like Jafar. Erebus was reminded of him whenever he looked at the boy as he grew.
The introductions, formalities, and performances stretched late into the evening, the grand hall echoing with music, distant laughter, and quiet, strategic conversations.
By the time the last noble offered his greetings, Luciana's limbs ached with fatigue, the weight of travel, courtly obligations, and cautious diplomacy settling into her bones.
At last, under the cover of night, the fortress grew quiet.
Within their private quarters, away from the gilded corridors and vigilant eyes, she shed her formal attire, slipping beneath the heavy blankets of the imperial bed. The room was vast, its obsidian walls veined with crystal, soft amber lanterns casting muted light across the carved stone.
Erebus joined her without a word, his presence a solid, unwavering weight beside her. The air between them lacked ceremony—no politics, no courtly performance—only the quiet hum of shared exhaustion.
She settled into the crook of his arm, her cheek against his shoulder, her breathing steady, his hand resting against the curve of her waist as though anchoring her there.
No grand declarations passed between them. No embellished promises.
Only the quiet, grounded truth of proximity—the pulse of his heartbeat beneath her palm, the unspoken vow etched into the way his grip never loosened.
Luciana's eyes drifted closed, her body heavy with travel and obligation, her mind cataloguing the faces, the voices, the empire now resting on her shoulders.
Erebus' voice broke the silence, low, quiet, edged in rare vulnerability.
"They looked at you like they've never seen power walk in silk before." His words lacked amusement, veiling the simmer beneath.
She exhaled softly, the corner of her lips tilting, eyes still closed.
"Let them look. They won't touch what's already claimed.
Erebus huffed under his breath, a sound edged in reluctant amusement, but his hold never loosened.
"I should've slit their throats or gauged out their eyes at that moment." He muttered curses under his breath.
"And ruin your own banquet over some foolish nobles? Surely it's not befitting of an emperor." She scolded him to mind his language.
Something that was unbearable to her even if it were coming from her own father.
He apologized much to her surprise.
Luciana's gaze drifted upward, studying the carved obsidian ceiling veined with faint streaks of crystal.
"I wasn't prepared for this," she admitted softly. "Not the scale—the discipline. I remember Stygian as fractured, starving for stability…and it's hard to believe this room was where you brought me. The place where it all truly begun...yet now—"
She gestured faintly, her hand brushing across the space around them.
"It's… formidable. And… beautiful, in its own way."
Erebus' grip around her waist tightened, his thumb lingering at the curve of her ribs. His voice, when it came, was quieter, layered in something more vulnerable beneath his usual restraint.
"It had to be. I'll never raise our children in a realm devoured by weakness again." His hand traced upward, settling over her waist, steady and warm. "Everything—the roads, the walls, the gardens—it's all for them. For you."
Luciana's gaze softened, but the heaviness in her voice lingered.
"Their future here will be different," she murmured. "In Amanécer… it never mattered how careful I was. The whispers followed them. Nemesis' wings even though he's Amanécerian pure blood. Hades' eyes. Ra'el's ears…" Her voice faltered, the ache evident. "Hades and Ra'el carry your blood. But Nemesis too was looked down upon. And not everyone welcomed his existence."
Erebus' expression darkened, the simmer beneath his stillness unmistakable.
"They'll never be shamed for their blood here," he stated, his tone sharp, unwavering. "Not while I breathe. Here—they're heirs. My blood. Your legacy. Respected… feared, if need be."
Luciana exhaled slowly, her eyes drifting shut for a moment.
"It's different here. The people—cautious, yes… but there's no hate. No pity. They look at them as if they belong."
"They do belong," Erebus replied, quieter now, his hand smoothing along her side. His thumb grazed the faint curve of her waist, his grip tethering her closer. "And so do you."
Her eyes opened, meeting his, steady and clear despite the fatigue pressed into her bones.
"I can't erase Amanécer from myself overnight," she admitted, her voice quiet, but certain. "But… I can learn to belong here, if this empire sees me as more than your bargaining piece."
Erebus' hand slid upward, tracing along the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing beneath her cheekbone, his expression carved from something far softer than his usual steel.
"They'll follow you," he said firmly. "Not because I demand it… but because you'll show them something worth believing in."
His thumb lingered against her skin, his gaze holding hers, unguarded for once.
"I need you here," he continued, the words heavy with meaning. "In every moment—in this bed, these halls, the courts beyond. Not just in title, but beside me. Every day."
Luciana held his gaze, her hand drifting to settle over his chest, the steady rhythm beneath her palm grounding her.
"I believe you," she whispered, the quiet weight of her words filling the space between them.
Erebus' arm anchored her closer, his hold unwavering as he exhaled against her hair, his fingers tracing slow, steady paths along her spine.
The empire stirred beyond the walls—the future uncertain, complex—but in this quiet chamber, beneath polished obsidian and fractured moonlight, neither of them spoke further.
Only steady breathing filled the space, her body curled against his, his presence wrapped around her as though he'd never allow the distance to return.
And as the fortress settled into silence, they remained—bound by breath, by empire, by the fragile beginning of something unspoken but inevitable.