The Palace stirred slowly with the dawn, stone corridors waking beneath the soft shuffle of slippers and boots alike. Winter crept closer by the day, and the air carried a sharper bite than it had a week ago.
In the west wing, maids moved in a loose cluster, brooms and mops gliding over the polished floors as they worked. Their voices stayed low, in secret gossips.
"Did you hear about Sir Drahn?" one of them whispered, eyes wide with barely contained excitement.
Another scoffed softly. "Who hasn't? Half the courtyard stopped moving when he dropped to one knee."
"Oh, it was so romantic," a third sighed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Right there in front of everyone. Flowers and all. If only it were me! Any knight would do." She started dancing with her broom humming a romantic tune.
"But didn't she run?" the first maid said, suppressing a laugh. "Just turned red as a beet and ran off before saying anything. Poor Sir Drahn...."
"She didn't say no, though," someone else chimed in quickly. "She was smiling. Shocked, maybe. Anyone would be."
A broom paused mid-sweep. "What do you think? Does anyone know if she said yes later?"
"I'd be shocked if she didn't," another maid said confidently. "They've been openly sweet with each other for months."
A pause followed. Then a quieter voice slipped in, just sharp enough to cut."Well… I think she ran because she's already in love with someone else."
The maids froze.
"What?""With who?""That's ridiculous."
The speaker smirked, clearly enjoying herself now. "I saw her in the garden yesterday. Whispering with the stable boy. They were awfully close."
Gasps rippled through the group.
"But Sir Drahn—""They looked perfect together.""She wouldn't be courting both would she?—" More gasps.
The maid lifted her broom again, tapping it lightly against the stone. "Well, she is an orphan. I suppose you can't expect much sense of class when someone's born without it a parent to teach it. Two-timing a knight for a stable hand? Hah, even more classless, seems quite fitting don't you think."
The others went silent — not in shock this time. Slowly, their eyes widened, staring past speaking maid.
But the maid kept talking, oblivious. "Honestly, if you ask me, Sir Drahn could do bet—"Footsteps passed behind her. Measured. Heavy. The air changed as he brushed past her.
Sir Torvax walked past her without slowing, his expression unreadable. The blood drained from her face so fast and she caught herself from stumbling backward.
The maids scattered instantly, brooms gripped tightly as they bowed and fled in opposite directions.
Torvax stopped. He didn't turn around right away. "This is the west wing," he said calmly, his voice carrying without effort. "A wing reserved for servants who understand discretion."
He turned then, finally looking at her. "That saying classless gossip," he added dryly, "is not a valued skill here."
The maid dropped her broom entirely and bowed so fast she nearly lost her balance. "I—I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean—"
"You may remain in the palace," Torvax interrupted. "But not in this wing."
Her head snapped up, tears already welling. "Sir, please—"
"You will report yourself to the head maid," he continued, tone even. "And you will accept whatever reassignment she deems appropriate." He continued walking as he said the last words to her. "And you are not to leave out a single thing that occurred today."
She nodded quickly, biting her lip, tears spilling freely now. Without another word, she hurried away.
Torvax exhaled through his nose and shook his head. Since when have they grown so fearless? he thought grimly. Speaking without thought. Disgraceful.
As Torvax made his way past the royal chambers, he slowed. Two of Tirian's personal guards still stood outside the door.
That, in itself, wasn't unusual. That they were still there this late into the morning was.
He approached, brow creasing. "Why are you stationed here?" he asked. "Where's the king? Did he ask you to stay with the queen?"
The knights exchanged glances, the kind that suggested they desperately hoped the other would answer.
Finally, one cleared his throat. "Sir… the king is still in his chambers." Torvax blinked. "Still?"
"Yes Sir... With the queen."
Silence.
Then — slowly — realization dawned.
Torvax's lips twitched. He cleared his throat, carefully schooling his expression. "Ah," he said. "I see."
The guards relaxed visibly. "Very well," Torvax added. "Carry on." He turned and walked away, his steps noticeably lighter than before. The Priests should ease up on him now.
The Royal Chambers
Morning light filtered gently into the wedding chamber, breaching past the curtains, throwing warm streaks of light over the bed and two who lay in it.
Orielle slept curled against Tirian's chest, her breathing soft and even. One arm rested loosely across him.
Tirian lay awake. Still. Careful not to move in case he wakes her. He shifted slightly, easing her just enough to see her face. Her hair was thoroughly tangled, silver strands everywhere, clinging to her cheek, her neck, his arm, even a few wrapped over his own waist.
He stared. Then snorted quietly. She looks like she fought a storm in her sleep. He reached out, brushing the mess back with slow and careful fingers. She didn't stir. He started detangling her hair and put it behind her. When he moved the hair falling over her face his hand lingered longer than necessary.
Why can't I stop watching her? a strange thought popped in his head right after. Or touching her.
He removed his hand feeling guilty for his strange thoughts. There's no way... It's not like I'm an impudicus?... Am I? No... This must be the prophecy?
Shifting uncomfortably. Would the prophecy make me feel like this if they chose anyone else? he wondered. His jaw tightened.
It doesn't matter, he reminded himself sharply. The gods chose her.
He leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before he could overthink it.
Her scent lingered, She smells like wildflowers and bath oils, something unmistakably her.
…I like it, he admitted reluctantly. Hah... Perhaps I truly have become a shameless man...
Suddenly she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then widened slightly as she realized where she was, and who she was holding onto so tightly.
"Oh," she murmured. "Good morning." Her hand was still on his chest.
"Morning," Tirian replied, voice rougher than intended. She smiled sleepily. "Did I… wake you?" He huffed a quiet laugh. "No... But your hair fought a battle of its own."
She groaned softly. "My hair?" She reached up to her head trying to feel if anything was strange. "Oh... Hehe it's always a bit messy in the morning" She pushed herself to sit upright, trying her best to tame it further.
Tirian gave a short laugh. "Only a bit? You were like the lusca of the deep, wrapped all around. Haha it was quite the sight."
Orielle's eyes grew bigger, shock and disgust etching on her face with every word. Her hands covered her face, embarrassment clear. "I must have looked horrible!" she squealed.
He paused, then added, softly, "No... you looked peaceful."
She flushed faintly, looking through her fingers. "Did I... really not wake you?"
You did, he thought. You suddenly curled in deeper into my chest... But it wasn't an unpleasant way to wake up.
Aloud, he said, "You didn't."
She adjusted her robe, glancing at him. "You usually leave early."
"I usually do."
"…Are you in not in a hurry today then?"
He hesitated. "There are things I need to catch up on, but well... You held onto me so tightly, I didn't want to wake you." Orielle laughed more out of disbelief at his words. Then nudged him "Stop teasing me!" Tirian started laughing.
Shaking her head, Orielle smiled. "Then... before you leave, could you stay for breakfast?"
"Breakfast?" he said curiously. "You're determined to keep me from my training, aren't you?" Her laugh returned, bright and unselfconscious. "Only a little." her eyes sparkling.
"…One hour," he conceded. Her grin was instant.
He stood, offered his hand. "Anything else you want from me?" he asked teasingly. Orielle took his hand without hesitation, and pulled herself up. "Maybe, but I'll save it for another time."
As they left the chamber, The knights quickly bowed, eyes wide looking at their king still hand in hand with the queen.
Whispers followed behind them, a sight never imagined was playing out right in front of everyone in these halls.