The morning sun cast a pale, wintry glow over Lucifuge territory. Snow drifted lazily across the mountainside, settling in soft mounds upon frost-kissed trees and the marble balconies of the manor. Inside, everything was quiet until a swirl of dense teleportation magic broke the stillness in the parlor.
Venelana Gremory stepped forward, brushing snow from her crimson-lined shawl. "I swear, your territory has the cleanest mana signature I've felt in years," she remarked, amused and curious. "Lucien's making it his own."
Beside her, Grayfia Lucifuge stood still, one hand resting momentarily against her stomach. Her crimson eyes swept the hall, sharp yet more tired than usual.
Motion stirred beyond the doorway.
Narberal Gamma entered with perfect grace, offering a deep curtsy. Her uniform was immaculately pressed, her posture impeccable, like a painting come to life.
"Lady Venelana. Lady Grayfia. May I offer refreshments?"
Grayfia tilted her head ever so slightly, assessing her. "…Trained in noble service, formation wards, and silent movement?"
"Yes, Lady Grayfia. I was raised in the Moonlight Bastion tradition," Narberal answered calmly, her tone neither boastful nor meek, simply truthful.
Venelana blinked. "Moonlight Bastion? That's rare these days…"
She cast Grayfia a sidelong look, eyes glinting. "Wait until I tell Sirzechs. That his son is becoming more and more like him."
Lucien entered the room then, drawn by the subtle shift in energy.
"Becoming like who now?" he asked with cautious amusement.
Grayfia's expression softened into the rarest of smiles. "Your father. You seem to share his… maid preference."
Lucien froze mid-step. "Wha—I, uh… I just thought she was efficient!"
"Of course you did," Venelana said sweetly, hiding a grin behind her hand.
Grayfia's composure returned, though her eyes still glinted. "She carries herself with impressive discipline. If her background is genuine, you've acquired quite the asset."
Venelana leaned closer, voice dipping. "Careful, dear boy. Keep collecting beauties like this, and half the old families will start sending their daughters disguised as maids."
Lucien coughed. "I only accept the best."
Narberal inclined her head. "I will continue to meet your expectations, my lord."
Lucien glanced at his mother, noticing the subtle way she kept one hand resting near her abdomen. A strange flicker of instinct tugged at him, subtle, buried, but he said nothing.
Training Beneath Snow and Shadow
The training grounds behind the manor buzzed with energy.
Yamato clashed blades with Yumi, sparks flying from each exchange. Ghislaine barked instructions at Rangiku and Kuroka, who responded with coordinated precision shadow, flame, and spell, moving in perfect rhythm.
Lucien stood at the center, his shirt tossed aside, breath fogging in the icy air. Dark sigils pulsed along his arms as Lucifuge magic coiled at his feet. He moved like a phantom fluid, unreadable, terrifying. His shadows danced with him, slashing and twisting like living weapons.
"Again," he commanded.
Velzaria Tiamat, golden-eyed and proud, watched from the edge of the ring, a single brow raised as she gauged his form. "You're pushing your body past safe thresholds."
"I don't want safe," Lucien growled. "I want sovereignty."
A sphere of violet-black energy erupted from him, carving a crater into the snow-covered stone. Lucien's breath hitched, but he stayed standing.
Rias appeared at his side, a towel in hand. "You're strong, Lucien. But strength isn't enough. You need control."
He took the towel but didn't look away from the ruin he'd caused.
"I know," he whispered.
Velzaria stepped forward, her tone softer now. "You'll be ready. Just don't burn yourself out before the gala."
⸻
Whispers of Rebellion
The political atmosphere was shifting fast.
While the Underworld's youth sang songs about the Scarlet Court and the Obsidian Maid, the old nobility silently plotted.
House Nefelion sent a sealed scroll requesting a "strategic union." Their daughter was "well-versed in etiquette, conjury, and fertility rituals." Other houses followed suit, some subtly and some more desperately.
House Almandor offered their twin sons to work under Lucien as "aides to the Scarlet Throne." One family even tried to sneak an enchanted wine bottle to him, laced with a truth spell and a proposal contract.
It wasn't fear.
It was containment.
If they couldn't suppress the Gremory rise… they would try to merge with it.
But one name continued to surface more and more in whispers: Albedo.
⸻
A Council Beneath the Crimson Banners
Later that evening, the parlor was transformed into a private strategy chamber.
Venelana and Grayfia sat with Lucien, Rias, and Velzaria at an obsidian-inlaid table, the warmth of crackling firelight reflected in their eyes.
"You've stirred a hornet's nest," Venelana began smoothly. "Three families have asked me if you're open to concubines."
Lucien groaned. "Is this going to be my life now?"
"Unless you intend to rule celibate," Grayfia replied, deadpan.
Rias smirked. "They're afraid of us. Of what we're building."
"They should be," Velzaria said calmly. "Because Lucien's path isn't theirs. And neither is mine."
Grayfia's eyes lingered on Velzaria a moment longer.
"You speak like someone who understands power," she murmured. "Good. You'll need that understanding. Lucien is no longer just a prince. He is a symbol."
Venelana folded her hands. "Which brings us to the gala. It's not just an event. It's a declaration. You'll be scrutinized, envied, and tested."
Lucien nodded once. "Then let them come. I don't want pretty ornaments. I want queens beside me, women who can shape empires, burn kingdoms, who want to create change, and still stand proudly by my side."
⸻
The Peerage Gathering
Later that night, Venelana and Grayfia stood before both peerages in the grand hall.
Kuroka leaned on Yamato's shoulder. Rangiku sipped wine lazily while Narberal stood perfectly still. Ghislaine watched with arms crossed. On Rias' side, Akeno and Koneko were attentive, while Gasper fidgeted beside Yumi.
"You're not children anymore," Venelana began, her voice regal. "The Underworld has taken notice. You aren't just peerages. You are factions."
Grayfia stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back.
"Many of you already know, but for the record: I formally recognize Lucien's union with Velzaria Tiamat."
All heads turned.
Velzaria met their gaze without flinching. "I don't ask for your approval. I only ask for all of you to lend your strength to my mate Lucien."
Rangiku blinked. "Well, she's direct."
"I like her," Ghislaine muttered.
Kuroka rolled her eyes. "As long as she doesn't bite."
Velzaria smiled faintly. "Only if I'm asked."
Grayfia, "my son's other fiancée, is expected to arrive in the coming days."
Velzaria gave a sly smirk. "Ah, so the succubus finally makes her entrance. I seem to remember her boasting she'd arrive ahead of me."
Rias crossed her arms and let out a huff.
"If Albedo is half as dramatic as the rumors say, we'll feel her arrival before we see it."
Venelana let out a light chuckle.
"She may rattle the halls, but she's loyal and fiercely territorial. So be ready."
⸻
Silent Vows Under Starlight
Later, beneath the twin moons, Lucien stood on the balcony overlooking his snowy domain. His thoughts were still, and his heart steady.
Beside him, Narberal stood like a shadow, unwavering.
"You've made waves," she said quietly.
"I'm not done," Lucien replied. "This is just the snowstorm before the fire."
Narberal turned slightly, her voice barely audible over the wind.
"And fire, my lord… always draws the old shadows out of hiding."
Behind him, the manor lights glowed soft and warm, his court, his legends, his future.
And the world… would tremble at what he
Was becoming.
The Crimson Prince does not kneel.
He ascends.