The northern border near Boreas was alive with activity as the brisk winds howled over the snow-capped mountains. Lyra, ever devoted to her role, moved with purpose and grace through the camp. Her eyes, always attentive, scanned the training grounds where soldiers drilled tirelessly in the unforgiving cold. She spoke with them about their needs, made sure their concerns were heard, and ensured that supplies were distributed to the villagers who lived near the harsh frontier. Her presence was like a warm beacon amidst the chill of the northern winds. The soldiers and citizens alike often remarked on the crown princess's compassion, for she never hesitated to extend her hand to even the most overlooked corners of Anemoi. Her genuine care resonated deeply with them, and many whispered how she was the only one who seemed to truly understand their struggles.
Lyra herself found solace in these rounds. The biting northern winds stirred something in her—a connection to simpler days, far from the political games and the ever-watchful eyes of the capital. There, in the cold, she could breathe freely, surrounded by the land that felt more like home than the glittering palaces and courtly intrigue ever had. But even here, where the land stretched endless and wild, the whispers of courtly rumors followed her like shadows, elusive yet ever present. She brushed them aside, focusing instead on the people who truly needed her. Their needs were real, tangible, and urgent; they gave her purpose.
Her peace, however, was short-lived. As she approached the edge of the camp, a knight in polished armor stepped forward, holding a sealed letter in his gloved hand.
"Your Highness, this just arrived," the knight said, his voice steady but laced with an underlying urgency. The letter bore the unmistakable Boreas crest, its wax seal glinting in the faint light of a nearby lantern.
Lyra's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the handwriting immediately. Dylan.
Quickly, she excused herself, retreating to a quiet corner. The lantern flickered in the stillness as she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. The words were short, direct. Dylan wished to meet her—urgently.
Without a second thought, Lyra made her way to the secluded clearing where she knew he would be waiting. As she stepped into the clearing, her eyes found him standing tall against the rugged mountains, a figure of strength and brooding intensity. The moment she appeared, Dylan turned to face her, his expression a storm of relief and frustration.
"You summoned me with such urgency, Prince Dylan," Lyra said, her voice light as she attempted to ease the tension hanging between them. "What's troubling you?"
Dylan did not return her smile. Instead, he took a few measured steps toward her, his arms crossed tightly, his brow furrowed in vexation.
"What's troubling me?" he echoed, his voice sharper than she had expected. "Lyra, do you know what they're saying about you? About us?"
Lyra blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. "I've heard the rumors, yes," she replied, her voice soft. "But surely you don't believe them?"
"Believe them?" Dylan's frustration was palpable as he ran a hand through his dark hair. "Of course not. But seeing you with him—do you know how maddening that is?"
Lyra tilted her head in confusion. "Seeing me with whom?"
"That Duke's son!" Dylan's voice rose, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. "I hear all about this supposed engagement, the whispers of your 'two-timing,' and then I see you with him—consoling him, no less."
Realization swept over Lyra, and she stifled a laugh at the jealousy that was so evident in Dylan's eyes. "You mean Nathan?" she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "Dylan, you mustn't take everything at face value."
Dylan looked at her, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Explain it to me, then."
Lyra stepped closer to him, her expression softening as she placed a hand on his arm. "Nathan has someone he loves—someone who was furious with him over these very rumors. She thought he had accepted the proposal, when in truth, he hadn't. He was distraught, and I was simply consoling him. Nothing more."
Dylan's shoulders relaxed slightly, though the storm still raged in his eyes. "You could have sent me a note," he muttered, looking away in annoyance.
Lyra chuckled softly, her fingers brushing against his arm. "I hardly had the time. And besides, do you truly think I would consider such a thing? Nathan and I?" She stepped closer still, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Dylan, I've already made my choice. You."
Her words hung in the air between them like a sweet melody, and for a moment, Dylan seemed to forget the world around him. His features softened, but then he sighed deeply, as if the weight of the world had settled back onto his shoulders.
"I said I would wait for you," he began, his voice tight with emotion, "but my patience thins when I hear things like this. When all I want is to tell the world that you are mine and I am yours."
Lyra smiled warmly and reached for him, her fingers brushing through his dark hair in a soothing gesture. "Patience, Dylan," she said gently. "These rumors will settle soon. Nathan's engagement to the girl he loves will be announced shortly, and all of this chaos will die down."
Dylan leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as if to savor the comfort she brought him. "You make it sound so simple," he murmured, though the tension in his voice had lessened.
"It will be," she reassured him. "Besides, I have two days and one night free. Surely we can forget the rumors for a while?"
Dylan's eyes lit up at her words. "Come with me to Boreas," he said suddenly. "I'll show you the estate—my home. We'll spend the time together, away from all of this madness."
Lyra hesitated for only a moment before nodding, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "Very well, Prince Dylan. Lead the way."
At Boreas, Lyra was struck by the contrast between the bustling duchy and the stifling atmosphere of Anemoi. There, amidst the wide open spaces and the easy laughter of the staff, she felt a freedom she had not known in years. She laughed with the servants, wandered through the sprawling gardens, and even joined Dylan in sneaking into the kitchens late one evening. They spent hours attempting to bake a cake, their hands coated in flour as they bickered over measurements and frosting techniques. The laughter of the staff echoed around them as they watched the unlikely pair in the midst of their chaos.
"You've brought life back into this place," Dylan remarked softly as they stood together in the moonlit garden, his eyes tracing her every movement. There was a look in his gaze—one she couldn't quite decipher, but it made her heart race.
Lyra smiled, her fingers brushing against his hand as the cool breeze tugged at her hair. "This is the freest I've felt in years," she confessed. "I love it here. I love being with you."
Dylan's grip tightened on her hand, a glint of something powerful in his eyes. "Then stay a little longer," he whispered.
Lyra's laughter was light and carefree, and for a moment, it felt as though all the troubles of their worlds had melted away. The moon hung low above them, casting its silver light over a world that, for once, seemed perfect.
Two weeks had passed since Lyra's brief reprieve at Boreas, but uncertainty continued to engulf Anemoi. The investigation into her father's death dragged on inconclusively, leaving Lyra to shoulder the kingdom's burdens. Determined to maintain order, she had spent recent days at the northern border, addressing her people's troubles while striving to project resilience amid swirling chaos.
The political climate remained fragile. Though Lyra's reputation had begun to recover, the court's loyalties were split between her supporters and Medea's followers. Even as stability seemed to take root, the tension simmered beneath the surface.
The engagement ceremony of Nathan and his lover offered a temporary respite from Anemoi's turmoil. The grand hall sparkled with nobles clad in silks and velvets, their masked expressions concealing whispers of intrigue.
Lyra entered in an emerald gown that shimmered in the light, her dark hair adorned with silver pins that sparkled like stars. Beside her, Astrid was a vision in royal blue, exuding grace despite the weight of unfolding events. The sisters drew admiring glances, their poise adding to the evening's elegance.
The atmosphere shifted when an envoy from Helios made his entrance. His regal bearing commanded attention as he approached the princesses.
The envoy's voice carried across the room. "Your Highness, Crown Princess Lyra of Anemoi, I bring a proposal for Her Highness, Princess Astrid of Anemoi, for marriage to His Highness, Crown Prince Alexander of Helios."
The announcement sent shockwaves through the room, sparking hushed speculations. Lyra, though startled, maintained her composure and assured the envoy of their careful consideration. She turned to Astrid, whose surprise was evident despite her regal facade.
"This is your choice, Astrid," Lyra said gently, her voice laced with support. "No one else's."
Later that evening, Astrid retreated to a quiet corner of the palace, where a letter bearing the crest of Helios awaited her. She unfolded it, her heart racing as she read Alexander's heartfelt words.
He wrote not from duty but from admiration, expressing a deep respect for her strength and grace. His sincerity stirred something within Astrid, filling her with an unfamiliar warmth.
Lyra soon joined her, noticing the letter. "He really is earnest, isn't he?" she remarked with a knowing smile.
Astrid nodded, still processing the proposal's gravity. "I never imagined something like this."
Lyra squeezed her sister's hand. "You deserve someone who values you for all that you are. Whatever you decide, know I'll always be here for you."
Astrid returned her sister's smile, her heart brimming with gratitude and uncertainty.
The morning sun filtered through the royal palace curtains, casting soft, golden beams across the room. Lyra stood by the window, gazing at the bustling palace grounds below, her thoughts heavy with the past few days' events. Alexander's proposal had sent ripples through the court, but it was her sister Astrid's decision that weighed most on Lyra's heart. Astrid had been quiet ever since, and Lyra knew her sister was struggling.
After a moment, Lyra turned from the window to the sitting area, where Astrid sat silently contemplating Alexander's letter. The silence was comfortable, yet tension lingered in the air.
"Astrid," Lyra began gently, her voice warm yet concerned. "Do you want to go through with this? I don't care about the nobles' opinions. I care about your happiness. Marry someone who makes you feel like yourself. You deserve that, Astrid."
Astrid looked up, her eyes soft with gratitude. Without a word, she crossed the room and embraced Lyra tightly.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for always thinking of me, for always being there. I'm sorry, Lyra, for never acting like the elder sister. You've always looked out for me, even though you're younger."
Lyra smiled, her heart swelling with love. "Don't apologize. You've been my big sister in so many ways." She pulled back, holding Astrid's gaze. "So, what's your answer? Do you like him?"
Astrid laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, who knows? He's certainly... quite cute."
Lyra raised an eyebrow, amused. "Cute? Him? He's so serious, always with that stoic expression. If anyone's cute, it's Dylan." She smiled, thoughts briefly wandering to Dylan. Of course, no one else needed to see that side of him.
Astrid grinned. "Oh, I know Dylan's cute too, but we're not talking about him."
Lyra blinked, realizing how far off track she'd gotten. "Wait, so you do like Alexander? You want to marry him?"
Astrid hesitated, her gaze drifting to the letter. "I think I can handle him," she said quietly, her tone resolute. "I think we could be good for each other."
Lyra furrowed her brow. "But do you like him? Be honest, Astrid."
Astrid laughed again, her voice light. "He's cute—that's enough for now. I can get to know him better later, right?"
Lyra smiled knowingly. "I suppose. But you'd be the future queen. I thought you didn't want that responsibility."
Astrid sighed, looking out the window. "True, but I've been thinking. There are good people in Helios to guide me, and I won't be alone. Besides," she added with a small grin, "I'll get to experience new things and finally escape this palace."
Lyra's smile faltered as she swallowed the tightness in her chest. "I see."
Later, Lyra excused herself, retreating to the library to clear her mind. But even in the solitude of her bedroom that evening, her thoughts churned. She stared at a book she couldn't focus on, the words blurring as she thought of Astrid's future—and her own.
Astrid was leaving, finding her happiness, while Lyra stayed behind to shoulder Anemoi's weight alone. The tears came unbidden, soft at first, then pouring. A quiet sob escaped as she thought of how much Astrid deserved her freedom.
Lyra wiped her tears, taking a shaky breath. "It's my choice," she whispered. "I'm here because I choose to fix this kingdom, to bring it back to the light." She paused, then shook her head, pushing the emotions away. "I won't regret this. Anemoi needs me."
Her resolve hardened as she drew a deep breath. She would finish what she started. There was no other choice.