The atmosphere in the Hall of Whispers had shifted from sterile courtroom to something older, more predatory: a matrimonial tribunal.
The Trial of Severance had been declared, but the Council, in its endless layers of bureaucracy and power plays, had chosen to begin by attacking the most fragile, human element of the Dyad: the nature of their original union. It was a masterful piece of political cruelty, a reminder that before they were a metaphysical Dyad, they were a political arrangement.
The Hall was configured differently. The towering, abstract thrones of the full Council were absent. Instead, five figures sat at a crescent-shaped dais of pale, heartwood. They were the Matrimonial Oversight Conclave, a lesser but potent sub-committee that governed unions between major powers. Their power was social, legal, and deeply invasive.
Ella stood beside Aaron in the center of the hall, the Bond Mark a warm, secret weight beneath the formal, high-necked sleeve of her gown. Aaron was in the full, intimidating regalia of the D'Cruz Warden—solar sigils etched into black leather, a mantle of office that spoke of fire and authority. They were a united front. But the tribunal's gaze was designed to pick apart unity.
The presiding overseer, a severe woman named Valerius with eyes the color of tarnished silver and hair bound in complex legal knots, spoke first. Her voice was dry as archived parchment.
"The union between Warden Aaron D'Cruz and the entity designated Ella was ratified under Provision 7-Alpha of the Inter-Lineage Stability Accord," she began, consulting a levitating scroll of light. "Its stated purposes were threefold: to provide a stabilizing anchor for the designated entity, to bring the entity's anomalous nature under the oversight of an established Legacy, and to secure the D'Cruz line's political standing through the acquisition of a novel asset."
Each word was a carefully placed scalpel. Entity. Designated. Asset. Acquisition.
"The formation of an unauthorized Sympathetic Dyad," continued a second overseer, a man with the calm, empty eyes of a shark, "fundamentally alters the parameters of this union. It transforms a political stewardship into a symbiotic partnership. This was not the council's intent. It introduces variables of affection, personal loyalty, and merged sovereignty that compromise the union's original, strategic purpose."
Ella's stomach tightened. They weren't just questioning the bond; they were pathologizing their connection, framing care as a contaminant.
"The question before this tribunal," Valerius said, her gaze locking onto Aaron, "is whether the marriage, in its current contaminated state, still serves the strategic interests of the Accord, or if it has become a liability. Does the Warden's judgment remain clear, or is it clouded by sympathetic resonance?"
Aaron's voice was a low, controlled rumble. "My judgment has never been clearer. The Dyad is a strategic advantage, not a contamination. It increases our stability, our defensive capability, and our value to any Accord we choose to uphold."
"Choose to uphold," echoed the third overseer, a vampire elder with faint crimson threading his irises. He smiled, showing no fangs, but the threat was implicit. "That is the heart of it, is it not? The Dyad creates a new, blended sovereignty. Your loyalty is now dual. To the Council, and to the Dyad itself. Which takes precedence when they conflict?"
It was the question they had been dancing around since the bond formed.
Before Aaron could give the politically safe, evasive answer, Ella spoke. Her voice, clear and unwavering, cut through the heavy air. "You keep referring to the original purposes. You speak of me as an asset, an anchor, a variable. You framed a union between a person and a political tool. But a marriage, even a political one, is between people. The Dyad didn't corrupt that. It revealed it. You are now judging the personhood you tried to legislate away."
A stunned silence fell over the dais. Entities did not lecture tribunals on personhood.
Valerius recovered first, her expression frostier. "Your metaphysical status grants you no platform for sentimental philosophy, designate. The union exists within a legal framework. That framework is now under stress. The Council must determine if the framework must be… reinforced."
"Reinforced how?" Aaron demanded, a thread of heat entering his tone.
The shark-eyed overseer leaned forward. "Several options present themselves. The first is annulment, on grounds of fundamental change to the union's nature. This would legally dissolve the marriage, though it would do nothing to address the… physical Dyad."
"The second," the vampire overseer purred, "is reassignment. The original strategic goals—stabilizing the asset and granting a Legacy oversight—remain valid. If the D'Cruz line is compromised by excessive attachment, the asset could be transferred to another, more dispassionate steward. The House of Obsidian Fang, for instance, has expressed interest in studying solar-convergent phenomena."
A bolt of pure, ice-cold terror shot through Ella, followed instantly by a volcanic surge of protective fury from Aaron. The bond between them sang with shared outrage.
"That will not happen," Aaron said, the words flat, final, and dripping with promised violence. The temperature in the Hall rose several degrees.
"You are not in a position to issue decrees, Warden," Valerius said coolly. "You are here to answer for your deviations. The third option is the one you face in the main trial: Severance of the Dyad. Restore the marriage to its original, clean, political state—a Warden and a contained charge. That is the Council's preferred outcome."
Preferred outcome.
"You would choose your paperwork over our stability?" Ella asked, her voice trembling not with fear, but with a building, righteous anger. "Over the fact that this 'contamination' is the only thing that prevented your own Executioners from destroying your Warden and unleashing me uncontrolled?"
"The Council's methods are not on trial here," Valerius snapped. "Your marriage is."
"Then put it on trial," Ella challenged, taking a step forward. The Bond Mark beneath her sleeve glowed faintly, visible as a golden ember through the fabric. "But try the whole of it. Not just the contract you wrote, but the people within it. The partnership it has become. Judge that on its merits. Does it keep the peace? Does it control power? Does it serve the realm? Or are you only interested in whether it serves your control?"
The hall was so quiet Ella could hear the faint hum of the magical wards in the walls.
Aaron stepped beside her.
"The Dyad will attend the Trial of Severance," he said. "But understand this: annul the marriage, and you declare war on us. Reassign her, and you will learn the meaning of total war. The only path forward that doesn't end in ashes is negotiation."
"The marriage you approved created this," he finished. "You don't get to annul the consequences."
Valerius lifted her gavel but did not strike it.
"The Dyad is reminded of its summons," she said flatly. "Judgment is deferred."
It was a retreat.
As they left the hall, the real war loomed ahead.
The Council had questioned their marriage.
In doing so, they had only proven how unbreakable it truly was.