The Empress's invitation, delivered to the Knights' Quarters via a specially dispatched page, sent a noticeable tremor through the usually calm routine of the newly minted Knights. Vaelorian found Riven in his room shortly after Riven received the message. He looked far more anxious than he had while facing the Emperor about the annulment.
"My mother invited you for tea?" Vaelorian asked, pacing Riven's small sitting area. "A private tea? That's not just tea, Riven. That's a highly formalized inspection! What did the note say?"
Riven, though inwardly nervous, maintained a calm exterior, enjoying Vaelorian's sudden panic. He was already adjusting his clothes.
"It was very polite, Your Highness. 'A private gathering to welcome the son of an old friend,' it said. Don't worry, I think she only wants to measure my influence and ensure I don't compromise the Crown's stability."
"That's exactly what I'm worried about!" Vaelorian stopped pacing and ran a hand through his hair. "She's sharp, Riven. She sees through everything. She's going to analyze your every word, your every gesture. I just... I don't want you to feel pressured into performing for my mother but at the same time I don't want her to find anything to use against us."
"Vaelorian, you told me your mother is an ally. You told me she was pleased with the end of your engagement," Riven reminded him gently. "And the Emperor is singing my praises for improving the supply lines. This is a good sign. It means they're taking my value seriously. I can handle this."
Riven pulled Vaelorian close, offering a reassuring kiss. "I'm not going to perform for anyone. I honestly don't have to do that. I'm just going to be myself: someone who loves you, who is loyal to the Crown, and who is incredibly good at his job. You just need relax, Your Highness. I've handled bandits and tax collectors; I can certainly handle a cup of Earl Grey and the Empress."
Vaelorian sighed, letting Riven's confidence calm him. "Alright. But if she asks about the succession, just say you're waiting for me to be emperor before you start addressing 'royal matters,' okay?"
Riven grinned. "Understood. Now, go look busy. I have an Empress to impress."
Riven was escorted to the Empress's private salon—a room that was warm, elegant, and surprisingly intimate. The Empress was waiting, dressed in soft simple, not the heavy silks of court.
"Lord Riven, welcome," the Empress greeted him, her voice warm and genuine. She gestured him toward a comfortable chair. "Please, sit. I want this to be comfortable. No formalities today; just a conversation between a mother and her friend's son."
Riven immediately felt the difference. This wasn't a political interrogation; it was an assessment of character.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Riven replied, accepting a cup of fragrant tea. "I appreciate your kindness."
The Empress leaned forward slightly, her gaze astute. "Riven, my husband—the Emperor—is very impressed by your work on the Northern Contracts. You've brought more stability and results to the quartermaster corps in weeks than most Dukes manage in years."
"I simply applied the common sense learned from managing the Manor, Your Majesty," Riven deflected modestly. "The Crown deserves full value from its resources."
The Empress smiled, but her eyes held a deeper meaning. "Indeed. You've proven your loyalty is more than just sentiment. It's structural. That's a profound relief for a mother who feared her son was attaching himself to a reckless passion."
She paused, the atmosphere turning more personal. "Your mother and I were dear friends, Riven. I lost touch with your family after she died, and I regret that greatly. Seeing you now, I see her drive, her brilliance, her beauty. I suspect that seeing the two of you together is simply her way of reminding me that some bonds are never truly broken."
Riven was deeply touched by the sentiment. "That's a lovely thought, Your Majesty. I only knew her briefly, but I've always aimed to honor her name."
"You are honoring her," the Empress assured him. "Now, about my son." Her voice softened. "Vaelorian is stable, Riven, when he is with you. That is what the Crown needs. My husband is concerned about the heir, of course. It is his duty."
Riven met her gaze steadily, recalling Vaelorian's instruction. "I understand the Emperor's concern, Your Majesty. I assure you, my focus is on ensuring Prince Vaelorian is the most secure, most successful emperor he can be. When he is emperor, we will address the matter of the succession with all the wisdom and pragmatism that the Crown requires."
The answer was perfect: respectful, deferential to the King's future authority, and entirely non-committal on the current, sensitive issue.
The Empress's smile widened, moving from relief to genuine pleasure. She rose, offering her hand. "Lord Riven. I believe Vaelorian has made a remarkably astute choice. Welcome to the family, dear Riven."
Riven kissed her hand and bowed politely and with confidence. The meeting had been a resounding success.
The Empress's successful inspection left Riven feeling elated and Vaelorian a nervous wreck until he heard the details. Riven returned to the Knight's Quarters to find Vaelorian already waiting, having teleported the moment he thought his mother was occupied.
Vaelorian cornered Riven immediately, his eyes wide. "Well? Tell me everything! Was I mentioned in a 'poor, foolish child' kind of way? What did she say about us?"
Riven shrugged off his jacket, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips. "It was mostly about me, Your Highness. We discussed the Northern Garrison contracts for a bit. She was extremely impressed."
"She was impressed?" Vaelorian repeated, visibly deflating. "That's it? No tearful emotional blackmail?"
"Oh, she got personal," Riven countered, finally giving in and pulling Vaelorian close. "She said my mother and she were great friends. And she suggested that my mother may have arranged this romance from the grave just to continue their relationship. All very touching stuff really."
Vaelorian stared, then broke out into a genuine, relieved laugh. "My mother is simply unbelievable! She turned our relationship into a spiritual connection!"
"She's an impressive woman," Riven agreed, letting his hands slide around Vaelorian's waist. "And she was very keen on my loyalty and my ability to bring stability to the Crown."
Vaelorian nuzzled his ear. "And what did you tell her about the most pressing matter of state—my personal stability?"
"I told her I was focused on ensuring you become the most secure, most successful emperor possible," Riven whispered back, feeling a surge of pride and desire. "And that when you're emperor, we will address the succession with all the wisdom and pragmatism required."
Vaelorian pulled back, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Perfect! You were deferential, yet completely non-committal. She must have adored that! That's precisely the kind of ambiguity the Palace thrives on!"
Riven ran a thumb over Vaelorian's cheekbone. "It also helped that she agreed with my assessment that my Lordship brings more to the Crown than the threat of war. She practically called me an indispensable asset."
"Which you are," Vaelorian confessed, his public mask dropping away completely, leaving only the devoted lover. "You're more than an asset, Riven. You're the only reason I survived the last six months."
Vaelorian gripped Riven's uniform and pulled him closer, his voice thick with emotion. "Every report, every meeting, every stupid gold turtle—it was all worth it because now I can stand here and kiss you without fearing banishment. We are closer to our future than ever before."
The conversation faded as Vaelorian pressed his mouth to Riven's, the tenderness of the earlier reunion giving way to the familiar, passionate heat of their connection. The day's political tensions—the Emperor's scrutiny, the Empress's assessment, the ongoing duties of the Knight Squad—all melted away.
"I am officially an indispensable asset now, Your Highness," Riven murmured, stripping Vaelorian's shirt from his shoulders. "I believe that means I should be heavily utilized."
Vaelorian chuckled, eagerly helping Riven pull the rest of his clothing away. "A sound strategy, my love. The Crown demands maximum returns on its investments."
They fell onto the bed, their bodies finding a perfect, desperate harmony that only intensified with the knowledge that their love was no longer a secret to the throne. It was the deepest expression of their victory—a joyous, unbridled celebration of their hard-won freedom and the stable, passionate future they were building, one strategic plan and one stolen night at a time. The Crown might demand stability, but in the arms of his Lord, Vaelorian found pure, absolute security.