The culmination of Vaelorian's desperate, months-long gamble arrived with cold, decisive formality. The political stage, set by Vaelorian's absurdities and brilliantly managed by the Empress and Princess Lyra, was now ready for its curtain call.
Three weeks after Vaelorian's birthday celebration, the Sorverigen delegation, led by the Princess's stern uncle, Lord Regent Kael, formally requested an audience with the Emperor regarding the state of the betrothal.
The meeting was held in the Emperor's grand diplomatic chamber, a room designed to instill awe and discourage argument. The atmosphere was thick with feigned disappointment and thinly veiled political maneuvering. Vaelorian was conspicuously not present; he was rumored to be away inspecting a newly acquired, diamond-studded rocking horse.
Lord Regent Kael, a man whose every word was measured for maximum political impact, began his address with a profound sigh.
"Your Majesty," Kael stated, his voice ringing with forced gravitas, "we came to Lumina with the highest hopes of cementing this alliance. However, my niece, Princess Lyra, and indeed the entire Sorverigen delegation, have observed Prince Vaelorian's conduct with a growing alarm."
The Emperor, guided by the Empress's earlier preparation, maintained an expression of deep, paternal shame. "Regent Kael, I share your concern. My son's recent behavior has been... bewildering."
"Bewildering is insufficient, Your Majesty," Kael corrected, his tone escalating to polite offense. "The Prince has shown a dangerous lack of political seriousness. His public antics, his reckless spending on trifles, and his clear disinterest in matters of state have led us to a most regrettable conclusion."
He paused, delivering the final, crucial blow. "Princess Lyra is an asset to Sorverigen; she requires a partner who brings stability and strategic strength to the throne. Prince Vaelorian, we believe, is currently too emotionally and intellectually unstable to fulfill that role. To proceed would be a disservice to the stability of both our houses."
"Therefore," Regent Kael concluded, bowing deeply, "the Sorverigen delegation formally requests the dissolution of the betrothal and the annulment of the treaty terms relating to the marriage. We propose we revert to the original trade agreements and continue our alliance on the grounds of mutual economic benefit."
The Emperor stood, dominating the room. He walked to the window, gazing out over the capital, a picture of a ruler forced to make a painful decision.
"I understand, Regent Kael," the Emperor finally conceded, his voice heavy with apparent sorrow. "It pains me greatly to see my son's flaws threaten such a valuable alliance. But you are correct. The stability of our nations is paramount. I cannot, in good conscience, force Princess Lyra to accept a partner who is clearly... unfit for the rigors of the Crown."
He turned back, his gaze resolute. "We accept your request. The betrothal is dissolved, effective immediately. Princess Lyra will return to Sorverigen, and we will honor the original, less stringent trade pacts. May this regrettable failure of character not compromise the hard-won peace between our Empires."
The terms were accepted, and the documents were signed within the hour. The diplomatic victory was complete. Princess Lyra's face was saved, the treaty alliance was preserved, and Vaelorian was free.
The news spread through the Palace like wildfire: the betrothal was off, broken due to the Prince's embarrassing instability.
Vaelorian, informed privately by his elated mother, felt a wave of dizzying relief. The crippling anxiety was gone, replaced by a deep, profound gratitude for the Empress and Lyra. The cost had been high—his reputation was in tatters—but the reward was freedom, and the chance to finally be with Riven.
The moment the Empress confirmed the official dissolution of the betrothal, Vaelorian didn't wait. He didn't wait to celebrate, he didn't wait to speak to his father, and he certainly didn't wait for a carriage. Freedom, purchased at such a high cost, demanded immediate action.
He found a secluded corner of his chambers, took a deep breath, and focused all his energy and longing on the one place he wanted to be. With a familiar whoosh of displaced air, Vaelorian was gone.
In the Ashbourne study in Aurelia, Riven and Barron were bent over a large parchment detailing new logistics for timber transport, engrossed in their new mission to build an economic fortress. The work was interrupted by the abrupt gust of teleportation wind, scattering papers across the desk. Both Lords looked up sharply, annoyance turning to shock.
Vaelorian stood in the middle of the room, still dressed in the simple tunic and trousers he wore beneath his ceremonial clothes. He looked slightly disheveled and utterly euphoric.
"Vaelorian!" Riven exclaimed, half-rising from his chair, a mixture of surprise and sudden, intense worry flooding his face. "What are you doing here? Did something happen?"
Vaelorian didn't answer Riven's question immediately. He took two long strides, pushed a stack of ledgers aside, and hauled Riven into a crushing embrace, lifting him right off the floor.
"It's done, my love," Vaelorian whispered fiercely into Riven's ear, burying his face in his neck. "It's finally done."
Barron, after a moment of stunned silence, wisely began collecting the scattered papers and backing slowly toward the door. "I... I think I just remembered I need to check on the new stable renovations. Carry on." He slipped out, closing the door softly behind him.
Riven finally pulled back, resting his hands on Vaelorian's shoulders, his breath hitching as he looked for confirmation in the Prince's eyes.
"What's done? The treaty?"
Vaelorian was beaming, his entire being radiating relief. "Lyra made the formal request! Regent Kael presented the terms, citing my 'unsuitability and instability,' and my father accepted. The betrothal is dissolved, my love. I'm free."
A slow, profound wave of relief washed over Riven, making his legs weak. He laughed, a sound that was pure, uncomplicated joy.
"You did it, you brilliant idiot! You actually convinced the Empire you were too stupid to marry!"
"I am an artist of political self-destruction," Vaelorian boasted, but the light quickly faded, replaced by genuine sincerity. He cupped Riven's face tenderly. "But I wouldn't have survived it if I didn't know I had you. That you gave me a chance."
"You only got a chance because I'm incredibly kind and handsome," Riven teased, but his heart was pounding with happiness. "And because you were right. You were trapped."
"I know," Vaelorian admitted, running his thumb over Riven's cheekbone. "But, I'm not trapped anymore. But the battle isn't over. My father is going to demand answers about my future. He's going to demand a stable choice despite what my mother told him."
Riven's previous expression of worry returned, mixed now with his new determination. He stepped out of Vaelorian's arms and gestured to the maps and ledgers on the table.
"I know," Riven said, his voice firming with resolve. "That's why we haven't been sitting on our asses all day. We've been working on something. The next time your father demands a stable choice, you won't have to struggle with presenting the Duke's son that's merely in love with you."
Vaelorian's eyes widened, then a slow charming smile spreading across his face.
"Why is your face doing that?" Riven asked with raised eyebrows.
"You're in love with me." Vaelorian said triumphantly making Riven scoff but the blush creeping up his neck suggested he was rattled.
"I can't believe that's the only thing you got out of that. I just told you about becoming Lord of the Marches, the new primary supplier of warhorses and timber to the Northern Garrison. I am making myself indispensable, Vaelorian. Barron and I, we are making me your political asset. But sure, let's only focus on the last thing I said."
Vaelorian's smile only widened, recognizing the depth of Riven's devotion and ambition. He didn't just want love; he wanted the political high ground.
"You're amazing," Vaelorian murmured, completely overwhelmed by Riven's loyalty and foresight. He closed the remaining distance, pulling Riven in for a kiss that was slow, deep, and filled with promise—a kiss that ratified both their love and their new promise.