The sun rose slowly over the Presia Dukedom, casting golden light over its stone walls and ornate towers. The cool morning air carried with it the scent of dew-covered roses, and the manor grounds were bustling with quiet preparations. Today was different.
Sion stood near the gates of the estate, ready to depart on an important journey. Carriages had been readied. Knights stood in formation. His father, Duke John, was speaking to the attendants about final checks. But for Sion, his mind wasn't on the road ahead—it lingered elsewhere.
"Lady Sara is waiting for you," a maid reminded him politely.
He nodded, adjusting his cloak and brushing down the lapels of his coat. There was a strange nervous energy in his chest. He wasn't sure why—after all, he'd faced assassins, traitors, and magical beasts. And yet, the thought of speaking to his fiancée made his heart race more than any battlefield had.
As he approached the guest wing, a soft knock on the door was all he managed.
"Come in," came a calm voice.
Sion opened the door slowly and stepped into the room.
There she stood—Sara Everen—by the arched window, sunlight tracing the edges of her silver-blonde hair. Her presence was ethereal, quiet but firm. She turned to face him with composed elegance, but her eyes revealed a curious glint, like she had waited long to speak with him.
"So," she said softly, "we finally meet."
Sion offered a respectful bow. "Yes. I'm sorry I didn't meet you sooner. A lot has been… happening."
"I heard," she replied. "You've shaken the entire dukedom in just a few days.
There was a faint smile on her lips, but her tone was sincere.
He walked a little closer, still cautious. "I've only done what needed to be done."
"I've also heard how you protected your sister. How the people here see you now." She studied his face. "You're not like what the rumors said."
"Rumors are easy to make when someone stays quiet for too long," he replied with a dry smirk.
Sara let out a soft chuckle. "I'm glad. I didn't want to marry someone weak. And certainly not someone spineless."
There was a pause.
Sion blinked. "That's... blunt."
"I prefer honesty," she said, stepping closer, her expression growing more thoughtful. "And honestly, I wanted to meet you myself. Not the version others talk about. Just you."
Sion felt a twinge in his chest. Her eyes—those clear, intelligent eyes—weren't judging him. She was truly trying to understand him. That realization caught him off-guard.
"I don't know how good I'll be as a husband," he admitted.
She nodded. "I don't expect perfection. I expect effort. Respect. Strength, when it matters. And maybe, in time, trust."
Sion exhaled, tension easing a little. "That, I can promise."
They stood in silence for a moment, the quiet thick but not uncomfortable.
From the open door, Raphael peeked around the corner, his tiny wings fluttering.
"He's blushing! He's actually blushing!" Raphael whispered excitedly to Janet, who was doing her best not to giggle.
Inside, Sara finally spoke again, her voice warmer now.
"I know this marriage was arranged by our families. But I'm not here to just play the role of a noble's bride. If we are to walk the same path… I want to be your equal, Sion."
His gaze softened. "Then you'll have that. I'm not the boy I once was. But I'm still learning… and healing."
"I can wait," she said, reaching out and gently fixing a loose thread on his sleeve. "But just so you know—I'm not easy to impress."
Sion smiled, then laughed—a genuine laugh that surprised even himself. "Noted."
As he turned to leave, Sara spoke again, more softly this time.
"Come back safe."
"I will," he replied. "I still owe you a proper first date."
And with that, he stepped out into the morning air, leaving behind a room that had felt like the calm before a storm.
Outside, Duke John glanced at his son, noting the color still lingering in his cheeks.
"Everything alright?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sion muttered, not meeting his father's eyes. "Just... battle prep of a different kind."
From the balcony above, Sara watched him go, the faintest smile on her lips.