The departure from Eryndale was quiet.
Aveline stood at the foot of the carriage steps, gloved hands folded neatly before her as the last preparations were made. Snow still clung to the edges of the road despite the season, the North reluctant to let go of its cold. The carriage bore the Eryndale crest, dark and severe, its design practical rather than ornate—much like the man who owned it.
Caelum arrived without ceremony.
He mounted the carriage first, offering no hand, no glance in her direction. The interior was spacious but restrained, polished wood and dark upholstery, arranged to serve function rather than comfort. When Aveline stepped inside moments later, the silence thickened instead of easing.
They sat across from one another.
Caelum's gaze fixed on the window almost immediately, grey eyes reflecting the pale landscape outside. His posture was straight, armor replaced by travel clothes, yet he looked no less imposing for it. Broad shoulders filled the space effortlessly, his presence dominant even when he said nothing.
Aveline took the opposite seat.
She smoothed her skirts and adjusted her cloak with practiced calm, though she could feel the weight of his indifference like a physical thing. This was not the quiet of shared understanding—it was the quiet of two people who had no intention of reaching for it.
The carriage lurched forward.
For a time, the only sounds were the steady rhythm of hooves and the creak of wheels against frozen ground. The North slowly gave way behind them, snow thinning, the land growing less harsh as they moved southward.
"You are aware," Caelum said at last, without looking at her, "that this journey does not change anything. We'll go down East and once the coronation is complete, we'll leave immediately."
Aveline inclined her head slightly. "I never assumed it would."
His jaw tightened, just enough to notice.
"This visit is a formality," he continued. "You will attend as my wife. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"I understand my position," she replied evenly. "I've had plenty of time to learn it." Her eyes moved towards the window.
That earned her a glance—brief, sharp, assessing. His eyes lingered for a moment too long, as if searching for something he expected to find and hadn't.
"Good," he said. "Then there will be no misunderstandings."
Aveline didn't deem that worthy of a response.
The conversation ended there.
They returned to silence, but it was no longer empty. It carried tension now, stretched thin between them. Aveline watched the passing scenery from her side of the carriage, memorizing the gradual change in terrain, the way the air itself seemed lighter the farther south they went.
She did not look at him again.
Caelum, for his part, remained rigidly alert. Every movement she made registered in his peripheral vision, every breath accounted for. He trusted her no more than he had before they left.
And if she was exactly what the rumors claimed—a cursed bride sent to weaken the North—then this journey would reveal it soon enough. He had already let his people know to keep an eye on the Duchess and report her every move to him.
The carriage rolled onward, carrying them toward the South.
Toward the court, the crown, and truths neither of them were prepared to face.
*************************
The air shifted as they crossed into the Southern region of the Empire, Valedryn.
Warmer. Heavier with the scent of tilled earth and late-blooming orchards that stretched in orderly rows beyond the main road. Stone markers bearing the crests of ancient houses lined the southern pass, each carved deep and deliberate, as if reminding travelers that this land was inherited, not claimed.
Valedryn did not announce itself loudly.
It simply assumed you already knew you had entered somewhere important.
They made camp just before dusk.
The road had narrowed hours earlier, forests pressing close on either side, their shadows long and uneven as the sun dipped toward the horizon. This stretch lay between proper towns, a place where even nobles traveled as soldiers did—under canvas and stars.
The order to stop was given swiftly.
Knights dismounted and moved with practiced efficiency, clearing ground, setting perimeter watches, and raising tents. Aveline stepped down from the carriage as Lina followed close behind, already scanning the area with quiet attentiveness.
The moment her boots touched the earth, she felt it.
Hesitation.
A few of the knights slowed, glancing her way. One of them—older, with weathered features—cleared his throat.
"My lady," he said carefully, "we can… make different arrangements, if needed. There is still time to push forward another hour."
Another knight nodded quickly. "We could ride through the night."
Aveline looked at them—not sharply, not coldly—but with calm curiosity.
"Why?" she asked.
The knights exchanged looks.
"Well," the first knight said, choosing his words with visible care, "camping conditions aren't exactly suited for—"
"A duchess?" She finished gently.
The man stiffened. "I didn't mean—"
"I know," Aveline said, a faint smile touching her lips. "But this is not my first time under the open sky."
That earned her more than a few surprised looks.
Tomas, standing a short distance away, kept his expression neutral, though the corner of his mouth twitched. Aaron, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased.
"There will be no need to move forward. We'll rest here for the night and continue our travel tomorrow." Caelum's voice rang out as he moved past the group, not bothering to look back as his feet carried him forward.
Aveline coughed, not wanting the knights to witness the awkward tension. "I assure you," Aveline continued, "I will not melt because there is no roof above me. Please proceed as planned." She smiled.
No one argued after that.
Word traveled quickly, and soon the tension eased—though curiosity replaced it. As night fell, a fire was lit near the center of the camp. The scent of cooked rations filled the air, mingling with pine and cold earth.
Caelum did not join them.
He sat apart, near the perimeter, speaking quietly with Corvin and two scouts. He did not glance toward the fire once.
Aveline noticed.
She did not comment.
Instead, she walked along and stood beside a wooden long placed around the fire, Lina by her side. The knights seemed shocked to see her there and not in her tent, but no one said anything otherwise. She accepted a cup of warmed broth from one of the knights with a polite nod and moved closer to the fire, seating herself on a folded blanket Lina had already arranged.
For a while, no one spoke.
Knights sat stiffly, uncertain how to behave with a duchess among them. Armor creaked softly as they shifted. Fire popped. Wind whispered through the trees.
Aaron broke the silence.
"So," he said cheerfully, holding his cup, "is this the part where someone tells a terrifying monster story, or do we wait until it's darker?"
Several knights blinked, unsure of how much they are allowed to speak with the duchess between them.
One of them snorted despite himself. "Is this what you think happens in travels? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Aaron grinned. "Absolutely. Preferably one where the mage survives."
A few chuckles escaped before anyone could stop them.
Aveline watched the exchange quietly before speaking.
"I've heard that Northern monster stories are far more creative than those in the South," she said. "Is that true?"
A younger knight straightened slightly. "Th-They've had to be."
"Hard winters inspire imagination," another added.
"Or desperation," someone muttered.
Aveline tilted her head. "Which do you think it is?"
The older knight—the one who had spoken earlier—considered her for a moment before answering. "Both, my lady."
She nodded. "Then perhaps you'll indulge me."
That did it.
Stories followed—of patrols gone wrong, of creatures lurking beneath snowbanks, of commanders who'd made foolish bets during long nights. The knights spoke cautiously at first, measuring every word, but Aveline listened without interruption, without judgment.
She laughed when it was appropriate.
She winced when it wasn't.
At one point, Tomas was dragged into a retelling of a spar gone embarrassingly wrong.
"You didn't have to mention that," he muttered.
"Oh, we absolutely did," one knight said. "You tripped over your own scabbard."
"I was distracted."
"By what? Your own ego?"
Aveline covered her mouth lightly, eyes amused. "My Tomas, I never took you as one to be distracted during training."
"That's not it, my lady. I was just too focused on the fighting that I didn't notice the ground." Tomas fumbled to explain himself to his lady.
"Oh my, perhaps you're more accustomed to fighting mid air then." Aveline chuckled.
The knights froze for half a heartbeat—then laughed.
Even Tomas couldn't help it.
Lina sat just behind Aveline, listening quietly, her expression soft as she watched her lady speak with ease. This—this was the Aveline she knew. Not the silent duchess of the manor, not the woman watched and judged at every turn.
Just Aveline.
The stories continued with the same luster, until one of the knights, Falzon, seemed to have gotten too excited. "There was even a time when Lucas got so scared of a cursed child he fell on his back trying to run from him." He laughed, but immediately stopped once he realized what he had said.
Silence fell upon the crowd. Lina, Tomas, and Aaron all stiffened when the words left the knight's mouth. Aveline quietly took a sip, not moving her gaze away from the fire cackling in front of her.
"My apologies, my Lady." The older knights spoke. "It seems he got too excited. I hope you will forgive him for his impertinence."
Besides him, Falzon immediately stood and bowed in front of her. "My apologies, my Lady. I'll accept whatever punishment you deem fit."
Aveline looked at him for a second. The young knight obviously meant nothing by the remark. Aveline knew the knights considered her a cursed child, hell all of the North did. But the fact he spoke of that story meant that he saw beyond that and even forgot that was a thing.
The knights' demeanor now also made her realize something else. Whether they believed her to be cursed or not, they still followed etiquette. She was their lady, cursed or not, and that demanded respect.
Aveline let out a sigh. "Please raise your head, Sir Falzon. There is nothing to apologise for. I understand the stigma that cursed children carry, and so the knight being scared of one is to be expected. Besides, I know you meant nothing else by it."
With her words, the knight's tension eased a bit. "Thank you, my lady."
However, the atmosphere had already gone awry. But at the same time, it was the perfect opportunity.
"I know you knights think of me as a cursed child. But may I ask, how much do any of you know about cursed children in general?"
All the knights stayed quiet, not wanting to offend the duchess, until one of them spoke. "Just what every one else knows, my Lady. A child that comes into the world after taking their mother's life. Said to ruin anyone who gets close to them, and bring wrath upon anyone who kills them."
"Yes, that is what everyone generally knows about them." Aveline nodded. "But how many of you have actually had a conversation with someone deemed cursed?"
All of them stayed silent. And for good reason. The Northerners were more superstitious than any other place. If that is what was said about such children, then they would stay away from them if they could help it.
"I'll tell you now, though. You'll learn a lot more after talking to them. In fact, feel free to ask me anything you are curious about, and I will answer. I promise not to take offence from any of it."
The knights seemed hesitant, not knowing how much they were allowed to ask. But it was the very knight who started this ordeal, Falzon, who took the bold step.
"Is it true, my lady? Are you actually cursed?"
Aveline laughed despite herself. "What a direct question. It is true that my mother died giving birth to me. But for it to be about whether I killed her or was cursed, that is not the case. I had no recollection of being born, like none of you do." She moved her eyes to all the knights surrounding her, listening intently to her.
"In fact, I have had many close relationships. My caretaker, Anna, who was with me till I was 17. She has since then moved back to her home village and is happy with her family. We still exchange letters. The same for my older brother, Alden Faylinn. And also." She moved her eyes to her three companions, the ones who were with her since she took her first step to the North.
"These three."
Lina spoke first. "My life has only gotten better after knowing you, my lady."
"The same for us, my Lady" Tomas spoke as Aaron nodded.
"Cursed children.." Aveline continued. "It's nothing but a story. And a very nice one at that, if you think about it. But tell me, have you ever interacted with a truly evil child?"
The knights were quiet, deep in thought. Neither of them had any interaction with any child they could deem evil. There were some that roamed the streets as thiefs, but even that was to survive. They never really committed evil acts just for the sake of it. Unlike some adults.
"Children, more than anyone, have always been innocent. God rules the world and created everything, so would he really create evil? No. He creates humans and lets them decide what path they want to walk on. Some choose a pious path, some evil. Some even walk the path in between, neither righteous nor malignant."
She trailed her eyes over the knights. "Tell me, Sir knights. At what point in your life did you decide to be good?"
"Was it when you were just out of the womb? Was it when you were 10? Or perhaps once you were old enough to think about the difference between good and bad. Children are the same."
"Then why did the pope say children were cursed?"
"I'm not sure.. Yet. But the pope is only human. There was a time long ago when the Ordo Aethernalis religion believed that children born during certain times such as eclipses were tainted and more prone to corruption. It was only later when scholars discovered that eclipses were a natural phenomenon and not a bringing of the devil that they corrected their misunderstanding. Why could this not be something similar?"
The knights did not speak for a long time, each of them in thought. "It seems I have given you all much to think about, but please do not let it burden you. For now, I hope you all would think of me as a normal duchess before a cursed child."
She clapped her hands once. "Now that the serious stuff is done with, there were many stories we heard about the North that I wonder were true or not. Perhaps you can clarify that for me too."
Aveline began to recount stories of ferocious beasts and powerful soldiers, and the knights visibly eased as they continued their stories from before.
When conversation grew too informal, the knights naturally reined it back. Titles were used. Distance remained. But the stiffness was gone, replaced by something sturdier—acceptance.
Across the camp, Caelum finally looked over.
He saw her seated by the fire, cloak wrapped neatly around her shoulders, posture composed, laughter brief and restrained. Knights leaned in—not crowding her, not disrespecting her—but engaged.
She was not performing.
She was simply there.
His expression did not change.
But Corvin noticed the way his gaze lingered before turning away.
The fire burned lower as night deepened.
When Aveline finally rose, the knights stood immediately.
"Thank you for your company," she said. "And your stories."
"It was an honor, my lady," the older knight replied, meaning it.
She inclined her head and returned to her tent with Lina beside her, Tomas and Aaron following shortly after.
Behind her, the fire crackled on.
And for the first time since leaving the North's capital, the road ahead felt just a little less cold.
*********
Caelum stood a short distance from the fire, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the edge of the camp.
Aveline's voice carried faintly—soft, controlled, punctuated by the occasional ripple of laughter from the knights seated with her.
Corvin followed his line of sight.
"She's earned their ease," Corvin said calmly.
Caelum did not turn. "Soldiers relax around anyone who listens."
"Not quite," Corvin replied. "They don't speak that freely unless they feel safe."
A brief silence settled between them, broken only by the crackle of firewood.
"She knows what she's doing," Caelum said. "Winning favor. Planting roots."
Corvin exhaled slowly. "Or surviving."
Caelum's jaw tightened. "You're too generous."
"I'm observant," Corvin countered. "She didn't force herself into their space. She waited. Let them come to her."
"That changes nothing," Caelum said. "A curse doesn't disappear because she can talk to knights."
"No," Corvin agreed. "But neither does intent reveal itself through silence alone."
Caelum finally looked at him. "You think I should sit by the fire and trade jokes?"
"I think," Corvin said carefully, "that refusing to see her at all is also a choice. And choices have consequences."
Caelum's gaze drifted back to the fire.
"She is my wife by decree," he said flatly. "Nothing more."
Corvin hesitated, then spoke more softly. "You don't have to trust her. Just… acknowledge her."
Caelum said nothing.
The laughter near the fire faded into quiet conversation, and the night pressed in around them.
At last, Caelum turned away.
"Let her have the knights for the day," he said. "It won't change where she stands with me."
Corvin watched him go, expression unreadable.
He did not argue further.
But his eyes lingered on the woman by the fire—calm, composed, unyielding—and for the first time, he wondered how long Caelum could keep pretending she didn't matter.
**********************************
The fire had burned down to embers when the talk shifted.
Most of the camp had settled into a low murmur—armor loosened, cloaks pulled tighter against the cold. A few knights lingered near the edge of the firelight, voices kept deliberately low.
"She doesn't act like I expected," one of them said at last.
A pause.
"Careful," another replied. "That's still the Duchess you're talking about."
"I know," the first said. "That's why I'm surprised."
The older knight—scarred, broad-shouldered—stared into the embers. "The Duke's cold toward her. That much is obvious."
No one argued.
"It makes sense," a younger knight said. "She's from the South. And cursed at that."
"Is she though? You heard her explain."
"Yeah but what else is she supposed to say? Yeah I'm cursed and destined to doom you all?"
"Still," another muttered, "you'd think she'd at least complain."
"She didn't," the older knight said. "Not once."
They remembered it clearly—the ground, the tents, the cold. No raised voice. No offended pride.
"She listened," someone added. "Didn't talk over us. Didn't pretend she understood things she didn't. I haven't met a lot of noble ladies, but the ones I have thought of us as plastic dolls only meant to act when commanded to."
A quiet agreement settled over them.
"She laughed," the younger knight said, sounding faintly baffled. "Properly laughed. Not that fake noble Ho-Ho-Ho kind."
That earned a low chuckle.
"Duke doesn't trust her," one of them said. "Can't blame him. Politics aside, the curse alone—"
"But," the older knight interrupted, "does she act like someone trying to poison the North?"
Silence followed.
"…No," the first admitted.
Another sighed. "She's distant, but not cruel. Reserved, but not proud."
"More so than that, did you see her hands when she took off the gloves?" someone said and the other immediately whisper shouted "Mind your words!"
"Not that, you creep. The calluses. It was of someone who has wielded swords before, or trained in them."
"Why would a noble lady need to train the sword?"
"There are many suspicious things about her. We can not assume that one conversation we had was enough to clear her of that." The oldest knight of the bunch spoke.
They glanced instinctively toward the perimeter—toward where Caelum kept watch, rigid and solitary.
"The Duke has his reasons," the older knight said finally. "We follow him. Always."
"Of course," the others echoed.
But as they rose to take their turns at watch, one thought lingered among them all—unspoken, but shared.
Whatever the South had sent them…
…this woman didn't feel like a weapon.
**********************
Caelum found himself continuously on the brink of sleep, but never able to fall into it completely. Now in his own barracks, he needed to get some shut-eye before starting the journey again in the morning.
He kept turning from one side to another, hoping that sleep would grip him. However, his mind remained active. The day's events continuously passed before his closed eyes. Aveline in the carriage, looking outside the window, calm yet cautious. Her laughing with the knights. And Corvin's words.
It wasn't a secret that Caelum did not trust Aveline. She was sent from the South, a land of enemies for the North. His land and people were already suffering, his own family almost to the brink of extinction. And it wasn't only because of the barbarians and monsters that sought out any opportunity to attack them. But also because of the Southern nobles.
Caelum knew that the Emperor did not look favorably on the North and house Eryndale. They were proud people. Perhaps the last in the Empire that still considered their loyalty to their house more so than to the Emperor. And that is why the Emperor wanted the North to be ruined. So it never grew enough to demand secession.
And Aveline could be another trick used by the Emperor. Someone who was sent to weaken the North, whether deliberately or not. She might just be another pawn that is unaware she is being played by the Emperor, but she could still prove dangerous to whatever stability the North had found.
However, perhaps Corvin's words did have some merit. He did not have to trust Aveline to acknowledge her. For better but more likely for the worse, Aveline was his wife now. He did not see a near future where that would not be the case.
Perhaps acknowledging her status as his wife could be fine. Things would definitely be more smooth. However, that would not mean he trusted her. He would still keep an eye on her every move, albeit with caution. He will not make it outright obvious that he distrusts her. Perhaps that way, Aveline would lower down her guard and give away her true motives for being the North.