Warning: The content of the following chapter has visual descriptions that might not suit certain readers, I request readers below 18 years of age to skip it.
Location: Imperial Palace, Magda's Chambers
The dim light of the setting sun bathed Magda's chambers in hues of amber and gold, filtering through the intricate latticework of arched windows. Despite the beauty of the evening, a storm brewed within her as she sat at her desk, surrounded by the remnants of a day filled with unanswered questions.
The missives lay before her like a puzzle, their contents unraveling a disturbing tale that gnawed at her resolve.
Her crimson eyes darted across the delicate parchment of Flora's letter, each word tightening the grip of frustration around her chest.
The pandemic in the North was spiraling out of control, and the mana fluctuations had reached such extremes that even the most stalwart priests refused to travel. Flora's marriage—something Magda had promised to legitimize—was now at risk of unraveling before it could even begin.
"How convenient for everyone else to stay away," Magda muttered under her breath, her fingers gripping the edges of the letter.
A promise unfulfilled weighed heavily on her, but the underlying issue cut even deeper. The North was suffering, and no one seemed willing to address the cause of the calamity.
Pushing Flora's missive aside, Magda reached for another letter, this one sealed with the emblem of her trusted mage, Calista. Breaking the wax seal with deliberate precision, she unfolded the note and began to read.
Calista's findings were even graver than she had anticipated. The amplified pathogens were transforming common ailments into fatal afflictions. A child's fever could escalate into a death sentence; a simple cut could fester into an unmanageable infection.
And the thread tying it all together? Mana fluctuations.
Her heart sank as the implications of the report settled over her. This was no natural calamity. This was a disruption, an imbalance that reeked of something far more sinister.
Magda leaned back in her chair, exhaling deeply as her mind raced. The logical choice was clear—she had to intervene.
Yet every time she had broached the subject of the North, Raphael had dismissed her concerns with a firm hand, insisting she focus on safer matters. Her father's overprotectiveness, though well-meaning, was suffocating.
And Micheal? He would never allow her to place herself in such danger, even if it meant resolving the very crises that plagued their lands.
Her gaze flickered to the pendant resting against her chest, a gift from Micheal, its soft lavender scent a constant reminder of him.
The thought of his concern for her brought a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by her resolve. If she waited for permission, nothing would change. The people of the North deserved better, and so did Flora.
"This is no coincidence," Magda murmured to herself, her voice steady despite the turmoil brewing within. Rising from her seat, she crossed the room to her writing desk. The faint scent of parchment and ink calmed her as she began drafting a formal proposal.
Each word was carefully chosen, each line crafted to weave the illusion of diplomacy. The Western Vassal would serve as her alibi, a convenient excuse to leave the capital without raising suspicion. She wrote with precision, her pen gliding across the page as she masked her true intent.
She paused, staring at the words. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder," she whispered, the corners of her lips quirking in a faint, bittersweet smile.
It was a gamble, leaving without telling Micheal. Would he understand her decision, or would he see it as yet another rift between them? The fear of being forgotten tugged at her heart, but she pushed it aside. This wasn't just about them—it was about duty, about the lives hanging in the balance.
Her resolve hardened as she signed the document with a flourish. "Let them think I'm running to the West," she said quietly. "But my path leads North."
Placing the sealed letter in her dispatch box, Magda felt a strange calm settle over her. She knew the risks, but for the first time in days, she felt as though she was taking control of her destiny. Whatever awaited her in the North—answers, danger, or perhaps redemption—she would face it head-on.
Location: Valenhart Estate
The heavy quilt enveloped Flora like a cocoon, shielding her from the crisp chill that crept through the stone walls of the Valenhart Estate. The frost outside clung stubbornly to the windows, painting delicate patterns against the glass.
Altona, the Duchy of the North, was as formidable as its people—hardened warriors who faced unyielding winters with unshakable resolve. Yet, within these walls, Flora found rare tranquility.
Lounging under the covers, her golden hair spilling over the pillows, Flora let out a soft sigh of contentment.
In her hands, Magda's letter trembled slightly, the inked words stirring a mix of emotions within her. Her sister's promise to personally legitimize her marriage filled her with gratitude, but the mention of Magda's plans to investigate the pandemic in the North brought a knot of worry to her chest.
The North was no place for someone unprepared for its perils, even someone as capable as Magda.
"She always takes too much on herself," Flora murmured, her fingers tracing the familiar loops of Magda's handwriting, a connection that soothed her even as her concern grew.
The soft creak of the door pulled her attention.
Fredrick entered, his imposing frame filling the doorway with effortless authority. His training tunic clung to his chest, damp with sweat, and his jet-black hair clung to his forehead. Despite the weariness etched in his features, his sharp gray eyes gleamed with warmth as they met hers.
"You've been bundled under there since you arrived," Fredrick teased, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "You'll turn into a pampered southern rose if you keep this up."
Flora arched a delicate brow, feigning indignation. "And what's wrong with being pampered, Your Grace? The South has its charms."
Fredrick chuckled, stepping closer until he loomed over her, his shadow stretching across the bed. "Maybe so," he conceded, his voice lowering, "but it's time for you to face the North, Duchess."
Before she could protest, Fredrick reached down and scooped her up effortlessly. Flora let out a startled laugh, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.
"Fredrick! Put me down this instant!" she exclaimed, though her voice betrayed more amusement than outrage.
Ignoring her protests, he carried her toward the adjoining bath chamber, where the warm scent of lavender and cedar lingered in the air. The bath, drawn earlier by the diligent servants, steamed invitingly, the water reflecting the soft glow of lanterns. Fredrick's grin widened, his gray eyes dancing with mischief, as he approached the edge of the tub.
"Fredrick Valenhart, don't you dare—" Flora's sentence ended in a startled yelp as he unceremoniously dropped her into the water, her golden hair splashing around her like a halo. She surfaced with a gasp, glaring at him through damp lashes.
"You brute!" she cried, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement.
Fredrick crouched beside the tub, his grin softening into something more tender. "You looked cold," he murmured, brushing a wet strand of hair from her cheek. "I thought I'd help."
Flora's mock scowl melted into a smile, her cheeks flushing from more than just the heat of the water. "You're insufferable," she said, though her voice held no real bite.
Fredrick leaned closer, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "You wouldn't have it any other way," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.
The tension shifted subtly, the playful air giving way to something deeper. Flora's smile faded as Fredrick's hand trailed along her arm, his touch deliberate and lingering. The water lapped gently around them, the steam rising in soft tendrils that blurred the edges of the room.
Fredrick slipped into the bath with fluid confidence, the ripples spreading around him as the warmth of the water mirrored the heat building between them. His strong arms encircled Flora, pulling her into the breadth of his chest until every curve of her body pressed against him.
His gaze lingered on her, taking in her flushed cheeks and golden hair that clung damply to her shoulders. Gratitude mingled with desire as he marveled at her form, bountiful and inviting, a vision of beauty that made his heart thrum with appreciation and need.
"Flora," he murmured, his voice gravelly with emotion and desire. His hands began a deliberate descent down her back, fingers spreading wide as they mapped her curves. The contact ignited a trail of fire that made her shiver despite the bath's encompassing warmth.
The firm grip of his hand on her waist drew her impossibly closer, and her breath hitched as his lips grazed her neck, teasing the sensitive skin with a slow, deliberate kiss.
As his lips moved lower, she turned fully to face him, her green eyes locking with his in an unspoken exchange of trust and longing. Fredrick met her lips in a kiss that deepened with every passing second, tender at first but growing desperate as their connection heightened.
Her fingers slid into his damp hair, tugging him closer, as if she couldn't bear even the smallest distance between them.
Fredrick's hands moved purposefully, sliding down to grasp her thighs, lifting her slightly with a surety that only deepened the intimacy of the moment.
Flora gasped at the shift, her body floating weightlessly in the water, yet the firm strength of his hold kept her grounded.
His touch became bolder, each stroke of his fingers a deliberate exploration, seeking out her secrets with a reverence that sent a shiver cascading through her.
The interplay of steam and flickering light painted their forms in soft shadows, amplifying every sensation. Flora's breath hitched as Fredrick's fingers brushed against her, coaxing her body into an unguarded response.
The soft moan that escaped her lips felt like a revelation, spurring Fredrick to abandon his restraint entirely. His reverence transformed into unrestrained passion, his fingers drawing patterns of desire that made her legs quiver uncontrollably beneath the trembling heat coursing through her.
As his touch deepened, Flora's flushed face and parted lips told him everything he needed to know. Her expression, a mixture of surrender and rising ecstasy, unraveled him. Each tremor of her body, each soft gasp, ignited a blazing need within him, pushing him to the brink of control. The weight of her trust and the intensity of her responses fueled his determination to give her everything she deserved, leaving no part of her untouched by his devotion.
When the tension became unbearable, Fredrick shifted, positioning himself against her with a fervent precision, his gray eyes locking onto hers as if to ground himself in the moment.
As their bodies joined, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude and awe for the woman before him.
The water lapped softly around them, harmonizing with their rhythmic movements that blurred the line between passion and desperation.
Flora's arms clung to his shoulders, her nails digging lightly into his skin as she surrendered to the intensity of their connection. To Fredrick, every arch of her body, every soft gasp, was a testament to the trust they shared. Her flushed face and trembling form only deepened his resolve to show her the depth of his devotion. Each thrust became more than physical—it was a silent vow, an unspoken promise of love and protection.
Their breaths mingled, uneven and heavy, as Fredrick poured every ounce of his being into their union. His touch was both reverent and insistent, exploring her as if committing every curve, every shiver, to memory. In that moment, he felt not just her warmth but her very essence, mingling with his in a way that left him both humbled and exhilarated.
The steam cocooned them, intensifying the heat of their embrace as their whispers dissolved into gasps of pleasure. Flora's legs wrapped around him, locking him in place as their rhythm quickened, a crescendo building that consumed them both. Fredrick's lips returned to hers, capturing her moans as they moved together, their connection as natural and fierce as the icy winds outside the bath.
As the climax overtook them, they clung to one another, their bodies trembling from the intensity of their shared release.
Fredrick buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breaths ragged and uneven.
Flora's hands caressed his back, soothing and grounding them both as the storm of passion ebbed into a gentle warmth. For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only their entwined bodies and the quiet intimacy of their shared sanctuary.
As the steam thickened, cocooning them in a private world of their own, Flora surrendered completely to the moment. The stark cold of Altona, the looming pandemic, and the weight of responsibility melted away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between them.
Time seemed to stretch and blur as they lost themselves in each other, their shared warmth a defiant contrast to the icy world outside. The bath, once a simple sanctuary from the chill, became a haven for their passion, a testament to the love and desire that bound them together.