Leila returned to the banquet hall, her heart still unsettled. The golden lights and music that once felt warm now seemed distant, disconnected. Apollonia had fallen back asleep, her tiny breaths soft against Leila's chest, unaware of the chaos that had unfolded just moments before.
Aurora spotted her from across the hall and quickly made her way over. "Leila, are you alright?" she asked, eyes flicking down to the baby and then to the bruised wrist.
Leila hesitated, then nodded. "I'm fine now. But... there was an incident."
"I know," Aurora said gently. "Word travels fast, especially in courts like ours. Melody told me what happened."
Her hand brushed over Leila's arm reassuringly. "You were brave to speak up for him. Not many would've done the same in your position."
"I couldn't just let them tarnish him," Leila said, her voice low. "Not when he stood up for me like that. And for Nia."
Aurora gave her a quiet smile. "Come. Let's have someone look at your wrist."
They moved to a more private section of the hall where a court physician was attending to minor injuries from the day's earlier sparring matches. The older man glanced up and, with a courteous bow, began tending to Leila's wrist.
"I should've stopped him sooner," she murmured, watching the physician work. "Before it got so out of hand."
"You did what you could," Aurora said firmly. "And Octavius is not so fragile as you think. He's proud—too proud, perhaps—but he knew the risk of raising his hand. He chose to do it anyway."
Leila nodded slowly, thoughtful.
---
Elsewhere in the palace, deep within the marble corridors, Octavius sat quietly in the antechamber outside the interrogation room. Blood had dried on the side of his lip, and a faint bruise was forming along his jaw. Lucerne stood by him, arms crossed.
"I've seen you take on whole battalions with a steady mind," Lucerne said quietly. "And yet a few cruel words make you lose it."
Octavius didn't answer at first. His eyes remained fixed on the polished floor, the weight of the night heavy on his shoulders.
"They insulted her," he finally said. "And they put their hands on her. What kind of man would I be if I stood by and let that happen?"
Lucerne sighed, some of the tension in his posture easing.
"Do you care for her?" he asked quietly.
Octavius didn't reply, but Lucerne didn't need him to. He saw it clearly now in the way his brother's fists had clenched, the fire in his eyes, the silent shame that lingered in the aftermath.
Moments later, an imperial knight emerged from the room. "Your Lordship. The interrogations confirm your account. The men agreed on acting provocatively. Orders have come to release you."
Lucerne nodded and turned to Octavius. "Come on, brother."
---
Later, Octavius walked alone through the dimly lit gardens behind the great hall, the moon casting a pale glow across the stone paths. He was halfway through when he found her.
Leila stood near the edge of the reflecting pool, her silhouette framed by silver light, Apollonia still held gently against her chest.
She turned at the sound of his footsteps. Her eyes found his immediately.
"You're alright," she breathed with relief.
He nodded. "Thanks to you."
She stepped closer. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't regret standing up for you. But I do regret that it came to blows."
Octavius gave a quiet chuckle, though it lacked amusement. "I suppose there's a part of me that still believes the battlefield is the only place I can be understood."
"You don't need to fight to be understood," Leila said, her gaze unwavering. "Not here. Not with me."
There was a long pause, then he looked down at Apollonia.
"She looks peaceful," he murmured.
"She is, finally. She likes the cold air, it seems."
Octavius removed his cloak and gently draped it over Leila's shoulders once more. "You should stay warm."
"Thank you," she said softly.
They stood there in silence, side by side beneath the stars, a fragile calm settling between them. Despite the night's chaos, there was something in that moment—quiet, sincere, and unspoken—that held the promise of something more.
----------->
The Morning After Aria's Wedding...
The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the veils of Luciana's balcony. The celebration had ended only hours earlier, but Olympus was already stirring again with murmurs of diplomacy, plans, and protection. A new political union had just been sealed—but in the privacy of her chambers, another, more fragile reality had taken root.
Luciana stood in front of her mirror, her royal robe loosely drawn about her shoulders. She wasn't looking at her face—she was watching her body. The barely visible curve just above her hipbones. Subtle. Easily masked by gowns. But no longer deniable.
Three months.
Three months of change, and Erebus had not yet returned.
Her fingers slowly traced over her belly, the gesture so gentle it was almost reverent.
A knock interrupted the silence. Irenia stepped in with a fresh letter.
"Another dispatch from the northern front," the old maid said softly. "The Stygian scouts returned successful. The army pushes closer to Wahrheit's eastern pass. No injuries reported. Your husband's forces remain undefeated."
Luciana's lips parted. Relief, yes—but beneath it, a growing dread.
She accepted the letter, her fingers tightening slightly on the parchment.
Erebus had written only sparsely in the last month—brief notes confirming strategic victories and urgent requests for reinforcements. But nothing personal. No mention of her. Of the children. Not since the first snow.
And yet, he would return the moment he heard of this child.
She didn't doubt it.
He would abandon the campaign, knowing the truth. Come back at once. Take her and the boys to the winter-locked stronghold of Wahrheit. Safe, yes—but cut off from Olympus. From the people she swore to protect.
From her sister.
From her crown.
And from the mission he had risked everything to see through.
She closed her eyes. The weight was unbearable.
"Irenia," she said at last, voice low. "He must not know."
The older woman said nothing for a moment, then bowed her head with solemn understanding.
"It will be as you command."
Luciana pressed the unopened letter against her chest, and whispered, "Forgive me."
---
A Few Days Later.....
The breeze in the Temple Garden carried the faint scent of white magnolias. Luciana and Aria sat on the stone bench beneath the shade of the pergola, where trailing vines curled like silver thread against marble pillars.
Nemesis played near the fountain, tossing bits of bread to the ducks. Hades, content and drowsy, was nestled in a wrap across Luciana's shoulder, his tiny hand occasionally tugging at the embroidery on her robe.
"You're quieter than usual," Aria said gently, sipping spiced tea from a delicate glass. Her wedding bangles chimed lightly as she lowered the cup. "Not that I don't appreciate the silence. It's the only place in Olympus where no one's trying to marry me off again."
Luciana smiled faintly. "You're already married."
"Exactly," Aria grinned. "And still the nobles stare like I'm some fresh prize in the court. I married for love, not alliances. You should see the look Cornelius gives them when they approach me. He practically growls."
Luciana chuckled, but her hand drifted—again, subconsciously—toward her abdomen.
Aria's eyes narrowed, and her teasing grin faded into something more thoughtful. Her gaze lingered on the movement—on the softness of Luciana's touch. The way her fingers stilled protectively.
"Luciana..." Aria set her cup down. "You're not ill, are you?"
"No," Luciana said quickly, too quickly.
But Aria was already sitting straighter. Her voice softened. "You've been skipping meals. You've taken to walking slower, and you breathe like the air weighs more than usual. And that"—she motioned to Luciana's hand—"is the third time in ten minutes you've done that."
Luciana didn't respond.
"Luciana," Aria whispered. "Are you…?"
A long silence.
Then, slowly, Luciana nodded—just once. Her eyes didn't rise.
Aria's hand flew to her mouth, not with horror, but with disbelief. Then came the bloom of wonder in her face.
"Another baby?"
Luciana finally looked at her. Her expression was unreadable—caught between vulnerability and steel.
"I haven't told anyone. Not even him."
Aria blinked. "But why? Erebus—"
"If he finds out, he'll abandon the front. He'll take me back to Wahrheit. And he'll leave everything behind—his mission, our people's future, this city's safety." Her voice cracked, but only slightly. "I can't let that happen. Not because of me."
Aria stared at her for a long moment, then reached across and gently took Luciana's hand from her belly.
"You carry a kingdom," Aria said, voice trembling. "But you don't have to carry it alone."
Luciana exhaled slowly, as if letting go of breath she didn't know she held.
And for the first time in days, she leaned against her sister's shoulder—allowing herself a moment of quiet, sisterly comfort as Nemesis's laughter echoed through the gardens.