They sat in a small dining room away from the prying eyes of the nobles. The "show" was not needed here. They met and ate in a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of silver against porcelain.
Khavan looked tired. His curly hair was more disordered than usual, and he leaned his head back against his chair.
"The border lords are finally quiet," he said, his voice a bit raspy. "They are afraid of your father's army almost as much as they are afraid of me. Your parents' arrival tomorrow will seal the deal."
Elara watched him. "You should sleep, Khavan. You have done enough work for three men today."
He gave a small, tired nod. "As should you, Princess."
After the meal, they walked together through the dimly lit corridors. When they reached the wing where their private quarters were located, they stopped at the intersection of their two rooms.
"Goodnight, Elara," Khavan said. He didn't use his "cold" voice this time; it was simply the voice of a man who was exhausted.
"Goodnight, Khavan," she replied softly.
They went to their rooms, the heavy doors clicking shut behind them. Elara lay in her bed, listening to the quiet of the Southern night. In the room next to hers, she knew the "Iron Sun" was finally resting too. Tomorrow, with her parents' arrival, the real challenge would begin.
A fanfare of trumpets signaled the opening of the main gates. King Magnus and Queen Seraphina of Valerion entered with royal dignity, riding white horses.
Elara stood on the grand stairs beside Khavan. She felt a surge of emotion seeing her family, but she remembered their deal. She had to stay calm and act the part of a happy bride-to-be.
Khavan stood tall, his curly hair neatly styled for once, though his cold eyes remained sharp as he watched the Northern party approach. His eyebrows were calm, showing no sign of the exhaustion from the night before.
As the horses stopped, Alaric, Elara's cousin, was the first to jump down.
"So," Alaric said, his voice carrying across the courtyard, "this is the 'Iron Sun' I've heard so much about. I hope the heat of your desert hasn't made you forget how to treat a Lady of the Snows."
Elara felt the tension rise. She stayed by Khavan's side, her hand lightly touching his arm to show her family they were united. She felt the muscle in Khavan's arm tighten, but his expression remained as cold and calm as a frozen lake.
"Prince Alaric," Khavan replied, his voice steady. "The South is hot, but our hospitality is even warmer. You will find that the Princess is well-respected here."
Elara's parents, King Magnus and Queen Seraphina, stepped forward. The Queen's eyes were filled with tears of joy as she looked at her daughter. Elara maintained her royal posture for a moment longer before the King stepped forward to clasp Khavan's hand in a firm, testing grip.
Khavan's aide began directing the Northern servants to their guest wing, which was cooled with fans and ice. The "Iron Sun" and the "Living Light" had successfully passed the first test.
During the Royal Tour, Khavan stood tall atop the Southern walls, his curly hair whipped by the wind as he spoke of strength and security to King Magnus. Meanwhile, in the fragrant gardens, the Queen's Tea was a delicate dance of diplomacy, where Queen Seraphina and the Empress Dowager shared smiles that didn't quite reach their eyes, searching for secrets between sips of jasmine tea.
By the time the Public Feast began, the exhaustion of the "busy work" was setting in, yet the couple never faltered. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder, a vision of unity that silenced the whispering nobles. Khavan was the picture of a protective groom, his cold eyes softening whenever he looked toward Elara, while she played the role of the accepting, graceful bride to perfection.
As the moon rose, the families finally retired to their private wings. But the palace was not quiet. Behind closed doors, people were finally speaking the truth.
The long-awaited morning arrived with a burst of golden light. After days of "acting" and sleepless nights of preparation, the ceremony had finally come. The atmosphere in the palace was electric as the entire empire prepared to witness the union of the Iron Sun and the Living Light.
Elara appeared, looking like a goddess
The moment of their union arrived with the weight of history and the silent gasps of the gathered court. Standing at the altar, Khavan was the perfect image of the Iron Sun in his high-collared, midnight-black military tunic, the gold-embroidered sunbursts on his chest catching the light of the cathedral. His dark, curly hair was neatly swept back, framing his sharp jawline and steady, cold eyes that softened only as he looked upon Elara. Opposite him, the off-the-shoulder neckline and delicate sheer lace sleeves making her look like a goddess of frost and light. The massive, cloud-like skirt of her dress billowed around her, its intricate lace hem sweeping the stone floor as she took her place by his side. Together, they stood as a striking contrast of shadow and light—his crimson velvet mantle draped over his broad shoulders and her ivory tulle shimmering under the sun-stone tiara—solidifying a partnership that looked, to every watching eye, like a true match of souls rather than a mere political deal.
Elara reached the altar and took Khavan's hand. His grip was firm and surprisingly warm. They stood before the High Priest, the North and South finally united at the altar.
King Magnus and Queen Seraphina watched with pride, while Alaric stood nearby, his hand on his sword, still observing Khavan's every move. The priest began the ancient vows, his voice echoing through the silent cathedral.
"Do you, Khavan of the Iron Sun, take Elara of the Living Light to be your Empress, to protect her and the peace between your lands?"
Khavan looked directly into Elara's eyes. "I do," he said, his voice echoing with a strength that made the nobles shiver.