A hundred years ago, in the gilded age of their first lives, Axel had met Lila for the very first time, though it hadn't felt like a beginning. He remembered every detail—her composed expression, the graceful tilt of her head, the way she had looked at him with a mix of resignation and cool indifference, as if he were merely another part of her inevitable fate.
The grand hall was adorned with lavish decorations befitting a union between two of the most prominent families in the empire. Chandeliers hung like frozen drops of light, casting a warm, golden glow over the sea of nobles gathered to witness the wedding of Duke Axel Ardent and Lady Lila Veritas.
Axel stood at the altar, rigid and unyielding as stone. His posture was straight, his ceremonial armor polished to a gleaming perfection that reflected the grandeur of the occasion. The scar along his jawline, a souvenir from countless battles, was the only imperfection on his otherwise flawless appearance. His expression was unreadable, cold, and detached, as though this event was just another formality in his already burdened life.
Lila entered, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble floor. Her wedding gown was exquisite—an intricate blend of lace and satin, shimmering with subtle hues of gold. A delicate veil framed her face, obscuring her features but not the regal aura she carried. She moved with the grace of someone accustomed to the weight of expectations, her head held high, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
Her eyes didn't meet Axel's as she approached the altar. She didn't care to look. This wasn't love; it was duty, a convenience orchestrated by their families to consolidate power. Lila's heart was as unmoved as her expression—her beauty as cold as a marble statue.
The priest began the ceremony, his voice echoing through the hall as he recited the vows.
"Do you, Duke Axel Ardent, take Lady Lila Veritas to be your lawful wife, to honor and protect her, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," Axel replied, his voice firm but devoid of emotion, as though he were reciting a line from a military oath.
"And do you, Lady Lila Veritas, take Duke Axel Ardent to be your lawful husband, to honor and stand beside him, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," Lila answered, her voice soft but steady, with no trace of warmth or hesitation.
When the priest declared them husband and wife, there was no applause, only a respectful murmur among the attendees. Axel turned to Lila, his lips brushing hers in the briefest of kisses. It was cold, formal—an act that carried no intimacy, only obligation.
They stepped down from the altar together, their hands barely touching as they clasped for appearances. The crowd parted, bowing their heads in respect. Axel offered his arm to Lila, and she took it with the grace of a woman who had been taught to uphold appearances above all else.
As they exited the hall, Axel glanced at Lila briefly, his red eyes meeting hers. There was no spark, no connection, just an unspoken understanding: this was a transaction, nothing more.
"Do you wish to rest before the banquet?" Axel asked, his tone neutral.
"No," Lila replied curtly, her eyes focused ahead. "Let us get this over with."
Axel didn't respond. He escorted her to the grand dining hall, where they would play their roles for the rest of the evening, exchanging pleasantries with nobles who cared more for their titles than their happiness.
Neither of them cared to speak beyond what was necessary. They were strangers bound by a contract, their lives entwined not by affection, but by duty.
Yet, as the night wore on, and the wine flowed freely, Axel caught himself watching Lila from the corner of his eye. There was a sharpness to her beauty, an unyielding edge that mirrored his own. She spoke little, but when she did, her words were precise, cutting through the idle chatter with a quiet authority that commanded respect.
Lila, too, occasionally glanced at Axel. She noticed the way he stood, his posture stiff and military-like, even in the midst of a celebration. He didn't smile, didn't indulge in frivolities. His presence was imposing, a shadow that loomed over the room.
Time passed, the night was heavy with an uncomfortable silence as Axel and Lila found themselves in their shared quarters, a luxurious room that exuded opulence from every corner. The bed, draped in silk and adorned with golden embroidery, seemed to loom like a throne neither of them wanted to claim.
Axel stood by the window, his back to Lila. His broad shoulders cast a shadow against the moonlight that filtered through the ornate curtains. He was still in his ceremonial attire, his hands gripping the edge of the windowsill as if he needed the stability it provided.
Lila sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her wedding gown had been replaced with a delicate silk robe, the color of moonlight, which only added to the ethereal coldness she carried. Her hair, loosened from its elaborate updo, fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She was every inch the duchess, poised and composed, but her eyes betrayed nothing but indifference.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. The weight of expectation pressed down on them like an invisible chain. This wasn't about love or desire—it was duty, a cruel necessity demanded by their families and society.
"You don't have to look so tense," Lila finally said, her voice cutting through the silence. Her tone was dry, almost mocking, though there was a hint of weariness beneath it. "I'm not going to bite."
Axel turned to face her, his expression as stoic as ever. "This isn't exactly a situation anyone dreams of," he replied, his voice low, measured.
Lila raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "And here I thought the great war hero would face this task with the same resolve as he does a battlefield."
Axel's eyes narrowed slightly, though there was no real anger in his gaze—only frustration. "You mistake my silence for hesitation, Duchess. I am merely trying to respect your dignity."
Lila let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Dignity. How quaint. Do you think either of us has any left after being paraded around like trophies all day?"
Axel stepped closer, his boots making barely a sound on the polished floor. "Do you want this over with quickly, or would you prefer more biting remarks to prolong the night?"
Lila met his gaze head-on, her smirk fading. "Let's not pretend this is anything more than it is, Your Grace. We both know what's expected."
For a moment, Axel's steely demeanor faltered. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or exhaustion. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold resolve that had carried him through countless battles.
He reached for the clasp of his ceremonial coat, undoing it with practiced efficiency. "Fine. Let's proceed, then."
Lila's gaze didn't waver as she stood, the silk of her robe shifting with her movements. She held her head high, unyielding even in the face of vulnerability.
The bed creaked softly as they both sat, the space between them feeling wider than the entire room. Axel hesitated, his hand hovering near hers before retreating. "If you wish to look away—"
"Don't patronize me," Lila interrupted sharply. Her voice was cool, but her hands trembled slightly as she untied her robe. "I don't need your concern. Just do what needs to be done."
Axel leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he tilted her chin upward to meet his gaze.