The weak winter sunlight struggled to penetrate the frosted windows of Margravine Evelyne Ardane's grand chambers. Inside, the faint warmth of the hearth provided the only comfort against the biting chill. Flames danced in the wide stone fireplace, their light casting long shadows over the room's opulent furnishings. A velvet sofa, embroidered with intricate patterns of the northern snow wolf—the sigil of House Ardane—stood near the hearth. Evelyne reclined gracefully on it, her silver hair braided with ruby pins, cascading over her shoulder. Her slender fingers worked on a piece of embroidery.
The chamber exuded wealth and history. Polished oak furniture, adorned with carvings of wolves and mountain vistas, gleamed in the flickering firelight. Thick tapestries depicting great battles and snowy landscapes adorned the walls, a testament to the Ardane lineage. Evelyne's crimson gown, embroidered with golden vines, shimmered faintly as she shifted. The movement only enhanced her composed elegance and regal presence.
The heavy door creaked open, and Aldric Ardane entered. As Margrave of the northern borders, Aldric commanded both fear and admiration. His white and blue armor, etched with runic patterns, bore the sigil of House Ardane—a snow wolf howling against a crescent moon. The steel of his sword, sheathed at his hip, faintly shimmered with mana, as though showcasing his beastly aura. Yet, for all his imposing stature, there was a warmth in his sapphire-blue eyes as they met his wife's.
"You'll bring shame to House Ardane with that crooked wolf, my lady," Aldric teased, nodding toward the uneven embroidery in her lap.
Evelyne arched a delicate brow, her lips curving into a soft smile. "And you'll bring shame to the northern borders by slipping on ice, my dear. Do you think the servants haven't told me of your little mishap yesterday?"
He chuckled, setting his gauntlets on a nearby table. "The ice was particularly treacherous. I swear it's conspiring against me."
Her laugh was light but sharp. "Maybe it's time you focused less on swordplay and more on walking upright."
Despite knowing it was improbable for a Knight Commander of his caliber to slip on ice, he continued to humor her, savoring their affectionate exchange.
Aldric moved closer to the hearth, holding his hands out to the fire. Evelyne set aside her embroidery and rose gracefully, wrapping her arms around him from behind. The crackling flames highlighted the affection between them, a warmth that defied the chill of the room.
"Promise me," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly as her fingers tightened around his. "Promise me you'll come back safely, Aldric."
He turned to face her, his expression softening as he cupped her face in his hands. "My love, I swear to you—I will always find my way back to you. You're my home, Evelyne, and nothing in this world could keep me away."
For a moment, Evelyne froze, her silver eyes wide before a soft flush colored her cheeks. She pulled back slightly, covering her reaction with a laugh. "Oh, cut it out! How can you say something so embarrassingly sweet with a straight face?" She shook her head, her voice laced with mock exasperation.
But then, as quickly as it appeared, her flustered demeanor faded, replaced by her usual poise. She looked up at him, her gaze steady but warm. "Don't keep me waiting too long," she said with a faint smile, and then, almost as an afterthought, she whispered softly, "Even the strongest patience has its limits."
He chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know, my lady."
To anyone who saw them, they were the perfect couple. Margrave and his wife, bound not only by power and status but by a love so genuine that it warmed even the coldest winter nights. Their laughter, their quiet moments, and the way their eyes sought each other spoke of a bond unbroken by duty or danger. Together, they were the embodiment of strength and grace—a beacon for all of House Ardane.
After a few quiet moments, Aldric bid her farewell and departed to patrol the borders with his knight order.
For a brief moment, their shared warmth seemed to hold back the shadows of unease.
In the afternoon, Evelyne stood on the balcony overlooking the estate courtyard. Below, workers tended to the gardens and cleared snow from the stone paths under her sharp supervision. Though the vines that climbed the castle walls lay dormant, Evelyne ensured every task was carried out with precision befitting her station.
The faint sound of hooves broke the quiet. Evelyne's attention snapped to the gates as a lone rider burst through, his bloodstained armor catching the dying light. He dismounted hastily, falling to one knee beneath her balcony, his breath visible in the frosty air.
"Your Excellency," he began, his voice trembling, "there's been an attack."
"Speak clearly," Evelyne commanded, her tone as cold as the winter wind.
"Bandits ambushed us at Frostshade Pass, or so we thought," the knight said in a rush. "But they were no ordinary bandits. Their weapons bore enchantments, and their leader was a skilled warrior—perhaps an elite knight in disguise."
Evelyne's eyes narrowed, her nails digging into the railing. "And my husband?"
The knight hesitated. "His Excellency led the charge to break their formation, but the enemy leader struck him with a curse. It shattered his mana shield. Though His Excellency wounded the enemy, he collapsed before we could retreat. The priests have stabilized him, but…"
"But what?" Evelyne's tone cut through the air like a blade.
"The curse suppresses the priest's divine healing, and…" He swallowed hard. "His Excellency has fallen into a coma."
For a moment, the world seemed to grow colder. Evelyne's features betrayed no emotion, though her hands tightened on the balcony railing.
"Bring him home," she ordered, her voice sharp and steady. "Immediately."
By nightfall, the grand hall of the Ardane estate was steeped in somber stillness. Snow clung to the cloaks of the knights carrying Aldric's stretcher, their expressions heavy with guilt. Whispers of fear and pity echoed faintly among the servants as they watched the once-mighty Margrave now pale and lifeless.
Evelyne descended the staircase, her crimson gown trailing behind her like spilled blood. Her expression was unreadable as she approached the stretcher, her gaze settling on her husband's face. The vibrant aura that once surrounded him was gone, replaced by shallow breaths and stillness.
The captain of the guard stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Your Excellency, we failed you. The ambush was unexpected, and we were unprepared for—"
"Spare me your excuses," Evelyne interrupted sharply, her tone cutting through his words. "Secure the borders. If the enemy dares to come this far, they may not stop here."
The captain hesitated but nodded, retreating without another word.
The servants carried Aldric to their chambers, laying him carefully on the bed. Evelyne dismissed them with a wave of her hand, the door creaking shut behind them.
She stood over him, her gaze cold as she took in his pallid features. His breathing was faint, his once-strong presence diminished to a fragile shell.
She leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper. "You were supposed to stand by me, not fall like this." Her fingers brushed against his face—gentle, almost tender—before her lips curled into something sharper than sorrow.
"What use are you now?"
The firelight flickered, casting jagged shadows across the room. Evelyne straightened, her eyes gleaming with something colder than grief. Her lips curled into a faint, bitter smile.
"A tool is useless if it cannot be wielded, my love."
The words slipped out softly, yet the smirk that followed felt hollow, as if the weight of them lingered longer than intended. Evelyne's gaze darkened, her shoulders tensing in the flickering light.
She let out a slow breath—half a sigh, half a scoff—as though trying to steady herself. Her fingers twitched at her side, betraying a brief hesitation before she turned on her heel.
"Tsk." Her tongue clicked softly—a brittle sound in the silent room. But this time, it felt less like irritation and more like an admission of miscalculation.
Her gaze lingered on Aldric's still form for one final moment, sharp and unreadable, before she swept from the room. Her gown whispered against the floor, a crimson ripple fading into the shadows.
Outside, the halls stretched long and silent, the crackle of torches the only sound.
The devoted wife was gone, replaced by a woman with an unsettling aura—and the faintest trace of doubt trailing behind her.