The day after Lord Carwin's betrayal, the castle remained in stunned silence. Every corner of Ravencroft felt colder, as if trust itself had frozen solid. Rumors buzzed through the corridors like hornets—each whisper sharper than the last.
Lucien stood before the great crest of his house, now stained with dried blood from the council chamber. He hadn't ordered it cleaned.
Let them see what betrayal looked like.
Let them remember.
Eiran found him there, silent, hands clasped behind his back. "The nobles are unsettled. Some are asking if you plan to dissolve the council."
"I should," Lucien said. "But fear will only breed more shadows."
Eiran nodded. "Then what will you do?"
Lucien's gaze darkened. "I'll show them that peace has a spine."
---
That afternoon, Lucien held a public assembly in the central courtyard.
The nobles lined the balconies. Citizens filled the lower levels. Soldiers formed a tight ring around the platform, watching the crowd with narrowed eyes.
Lucien stepped forward alone.
"I will not pretend the betrayal we witnessed was minor," he began. "Lord Carwin, once a voice of reason, tried to murder Prince Eiran and destroy the alliance we have worked so hard to build."
Murmurs rose and fell.
"I have shed Ravencroft blood for peace," Lucien continued. "And I will shed it again if I must. But let no man think my mercy is weakness. Or that my love for peace makes me blind."
He let his gaze sweep the crowd.
"Ravencroft will not fall to enemies within. We are not made of marble. We are made of fire."
The silence that followed was thunderous. Then came a wave of applause—tentative at first, then rising to a storm.
---
Later that evening, Lucien returned to his chamber and sank into a chair by the hearth.
He was exhausted.
He didn't even hear Eiran approach until a warm cloth touched his shoulder.
"You're bleeding again," Eiran murmured, unwrapping the hastily bandaged wound from yesterday.
"I'm fine," Lucien said, but there was no conviction in his voice.
Eiran said nothing. Just worked in silence, cleaning the wound with slow, gentle hands.
"I keep waiting to feel like I've won something," Lucien whispered.
"You haven't yet," Eiran replied. "But you're still standing. That's more than most."
Their eyes met.
Lucien reached out, brushing a knuckle down Eiran's cheek. "I don't deserve you."
"Then earn me," Eiran said softly. "Every day."
Lucien leaned in.
This kiss was different—more desperate, more vulnerable. Less about desire, more about survival.
Two men clinging to each other in a world trying to tear them apart.
---
That night, under the flickering candlelight, Lucien whispered into the darkness:
"If they come for me, promise you'll run."
Eiran's voice was like iron. "If they come for you, I promise I'll stand in front."
---
Spring came to Ravencroft like a shy promise.
The frost receded. The war banners were lowered. Flowers—real ones, not conjured by magic—began to appear along the eastern walkways. And for the first time in generations, the castle felt… at peace.
Lucien stood by the garden balcony, overlooking the courtyard where once soldiers had trained, bled, and died. Now, it echoed with children's laughter and the scent of blooming night jasmine.
Behind him, Eiran approached with two mugs of spiced tea.
"You're not wearing armor," Lucien said with a soft smile.
"Neither are you."
"I suppose we're finally safe."
Eiran handed him the mug. "Or we've just grown tired of pretending danger's the only way to live."
They sipped in silence, shoulder to shoulder.
Lucien turned. "Do you ever miss it? The fire, the edge of a blade, the thrill of not knowing what comes next?"
Eiran's gaze softened. "Sometimes. But I'd rather wake up beside you than charge into a battlefield any day."
Lucien chuckled, but there was emotion beneath it. "When I woke up in this world, I thought I was cursed. Trapped inside a villain's life."
"And now?"
"Now I realize… maybe fate put me here to find you."
Eiran leaned in, brushing a kiss to his lips. "And maybe you were never the villain. Just the hero no one expected."
Lucien pulled him close, forehead against forehead.
"I don't know what the future holds," he whispered. "But I know who I want in it."
---
Later that evening, under lantern-lit trees and soft music played by the court's finest musicians, Lucien and Eiran danced.
There was no crown on Lucien's head, no armor on Eiran's chest. Just two men in love, surrounded by people who had finally come to accept that love not as scandal—but as strength.
As the last notes of the waltz faded, Lucien leaned in.
"One day," he said, "I'd like to marry you."
Eiran smiled. "What's stopping you?"
Lucien blinked. "Wait, are you saying—"
"I'm saying yes," Eiran whispered, pressing a hand to Lucien's chest. "I've already given you my sword, my loyalty, and my heart. The rest is just ceremony."
Lucien laughed—full, deep, free.
And in that moment, surrounded by starlight and love and a future no longer borrowed but built, the villain finally got his happy ending.
---