The streets of Celestafell were alive with their usual energy as Serena and Lucien walked side by side through the cobbled paths. Lanterns glowed softly in the evening light, casting warm hues over the bustling marketplace and the clusters of townsfolk winding down their day. The hum of conversation, the scent of freshly baked bread, and the distant sound of a lute strummed by a street performer created an ambiance of peace Serena hadn't fully appreciated before.
"You've been quiet," Lucien remarked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
Serena smirked faintly, her crimson eyes scanning the lively scene before them. "You caught me off guard with this little outing, Lucien. I was waiting for the inevitable jab or some sarcastic remark. You're slipping."
He chuckled softly, shoving his hands into his cloak. "Don't get used to it. I figured it wouldn't kill me to be civil—for one night, at least. Besides, this is your city, isn't it? Thought you might enjoy seeing it like this."
"I see it every week," Serena replied, though her tone lacked its usual edge. "Part of my routine. I make it a point to walk through the streets, speak with the people, and see for myself what's working and what isn't."
Lucien raised a brow. "You? Walking around to talk with people? That's hard to picture. I figured you'd prefer sitting in your castle issuing commands."
"You'd be surprised," she said, glancing at him. "Ruling from a distance breeds ignorance. I learned that early. Besides… the people are more honest when they don't think you're listening."
As if on cue, a cheerful voice called out from a nearby stall. "My Lady! Vengeful One! Over here!"
Serena paused, glancing toward the voice. A woman with a brightly colored apron stood behind a fruit stand, waving enthusiastically. The display was piled high with plump, ripe berries that gleamed in the lantern light.
"Please, take some! The harvest's been good this year, thanks to the new irrigation you approved!" The woman held out a small basket, her smile radiant.
Serena approached, accepting the basket with a nod. "Thank you. Your gratitude is noted—and your berries look excellent. Keep up the good work." She plucked one from the basket and bit into it, nodding in approval before continuing on.
Lucien watched the exchange in silence, his expression thoughtful. "That happens a lot, doesn't it?"
Serena smirked. "Every time I walk through the city. Someone always has something to give me—bread, fruit, trinkets, even flowers. It's become… expected." She glanced at him. "Not that you'd understand. Your father's walks through the city weren't exactly filled with adoration, were they?"
Lucien's jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, he sighed. "No, they weren't. Most of the time, the people just avoided him. Or glared at him from a distance. I didn't realize how different things were until…" He trailed off, gesturing vaguely around them.
"Until I took over," Serena finished for him, her tone sharp but not unkind.
He nodded reluctantly, looking ahead as they passed a blacksmith's forge. The clang of metal on metal rang out, sparks flying as the blacksmith waved at Serena, pausing in his work.
"My Lady! The armor you ordered for the guards will be ready by the end of the week! We've been working day and night to meet your standards!"
Serena gave him a brief nod. "Excellent. I'll send someone to inspect the finished pieces. Keep up the good work."
Lucien shook his head as they walked on, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "They really love you, don't they?"
"They love what I've done for them," she corrected, her voice matter-of-fact. "There's a difference. If I faltered, their loyalty would falter with me. People are like that. They follow strength and results. Your father failed to provide either."
Lucien didn't respond immediately, his gaze flickering to a group of children running past with small wooden toys in their hands. They were laughing, their carefree joy a stark contrast to the tense, fearful streets he remembered under his father's rule.
"You're not wrong," he admitted after a long pause. "I hate to say it, but… the city's better now."
Serena glanced at him, her brow arching in mild surprise. "Careful, Lucien. If you're not careful, I might start thinking you're coming around."
He scoffed, though there was no real venom in it. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm just… acknowledging the truth. Doesn't mean I like you any more than I did yesterday."
She chuckled softly, the sound low and almost genuine. "Fair enough. But at least you're honest. That's more than I can say for most people."
They continued walking in companionable silence for a while, the city's vibrant energy surrounding them. Lucien still hated her—there was no doubt about that. But as they moved through the streets, seeing the undeniable transformation she had brought to Celestafell, he couldn't help but wonder if that hatred was as clear-cut as he had always believed.
The bustling streets gradually gave way to a quieter, more secluded part of the city. The distant hum of the marketplace softened, replaced by the gentle rustle of trees and the faint trickle of water from a nearby fountain. Serena glanced around, her curiosity growing as they approached a small, picturesque tavern tucked away at the edge of a cobblestone path. Its sign swung lazily in the evening breeze, the words "The Hearth's Respite" etched in elegant script above an image of a roaring fire.
Lucien stopped just outside the door and turned to face her. For the first time that evening, there was no sarcasm in his voice. "Here we are. I figured you could use a meal somewhere a little… less formal."
Serena arched a brow, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "A tavern, Lucien? Bold of you to think I'd enjoy sitting in a room full of commoners." Her tone was sharp, but the faintest hint of amusement lingered at the edges.
He smirked, gesturing toward the door. "Well, you've been talking about how important it is to connect with the people, haven't you? Consider this part of your 'routine.'" He pushed the door open, holding it for her. "Or are you afraid to let loose for once?"
She rolled her eyes but stepped inside, her cloak trailing behind her. The interior was cozy and inviting, with warm, golden light emanating from wrought-iron chandeliers and a crackling fireplace at the far end. Wooden tables and benches were arranged neatly, their surfaces polished to a soft shine. The smell of roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced ale filled the air, mingling with the gentle hum of quiet conversation.
The tavernkeeper, a broad-shouldered man with a friendly demeanor, immediately straightened upon seeing them. His eyes widened briefly when he recognized Serena, but he recovered quickly, offering a respectful bow. "My Lady, welcome to The Hearth's Respite. Please, take a seat. Anything you'd like is on the house."
"Of course it is," Serena murmured, smirking as she allowed Lucien to guide her to a small table near the fireplace. She settled into the chair with practiced grace, resting her hands lightly on the edge of the table.
Lucien sat across from her, leaning back slightly as the tavernkeeper approached with menus. "Bring us whatever's fresh," he said, waving the menus away. "I trust your kitchen."
The man nodded, hurrying off to the back as Serena studied Lucien. "You've been here before, haven't you?"
"Once or twice," he admitted, glancing around the room. "It's quiet. Out of the way. A good place to think."
She tilted her head, intrigued. "And what exactly do you think about, Lucien? How much you despise me? How to overthrow me, perhaps?"
His lips twitched in a faint smirk. "Something like that. Though tonight, I'm trying to enjoy the silence before you ruin it."
She chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. "Careful, Lucien. I might start thinking you invited me here because you enjoy my company."
Before he could respond, the tavernkeeper returned with two steaming plates, setting them down with a flourish. The meal was simple but hearty: roasted chicken glazed with honey, a medley of seasoned vegetables, and freshly baked bread accompanied by a small bowl of herb-infused butter. Two mugs of ale were placed beside the plates, frothy and golden.
Serena glanced at the spread, her eyes briefly lighting with approval. "Not bad, Lucien. You might have some taste after all."
"Don't get used to it," he replied, picking up his fork. "Let's see if you can eat like a normal person or if queens have a different method for that too."
She smirked, cutting into the chicken with effortless precision. As she took her first bite, a small, genuine hum of satisfaction escaped her. The glaze was perfectly sweet, the meat tender. She glanced at Lucien, her expression softening just slightly.
"It's good," she admitted. "Better than what they serve in the castle. Maybe I should have this place cater for my next feast."
Lucien shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping him as he took a sip of his ale. "I'll let the tavernkeeper know you're stealing his kitchen staff."
For the first time in a long while, the tension between them eased. The sharp edges of their usual exchanges dulled, replaced by a quiet camaraderie that neither of them fully acknowledged. They ate in relative silence, the warm glow of the fire casting soft shadows over their faces. For that brief moment, they weren't the Vengeful One and her reluctant prisoner—they were just two people sharing a meal, letting the weight of their world fall away.
As the last of the food disappeared from their plates, Serena leaned back with a sigh, cradling her mug of ale in one hand. She glanced at Lucien, her crimson eyes gleaming faintly in the firelight. "You know, I might actually thank you for this. It was… tolerable."
Lucien smirked, raising his mug in a mock toast. "Don't strain yourself, Vengeful One. I wouldn't want you to crack under the pressure of admitting you enjoyed yourself."
She chuckled, the sound low and amused, and took another sip of her ale. For the first time in months, the tension between them seemed to fade, replaced by something that felt almost normal.
As the evening wore on, the tavern slowly began to quiet, the last of the patrons finishing their meals and heading home. Serena and Lucien stood from their table, the warm glow of the hearth casting long shadows across the room. The tavernkeeper, noticing their movement, hurried from behind the counter to meet them near the door.
"My Lady, I hope everything was to your satisfaction," the owner said, his voice eager and deferential. He bowed low, his apron slightly smudged from a busy evening.
"The food was excellent," Serena replied, her tone steady but cool, as she reached into a hidden pouch on her belt. She withdrew a small leather coin purse, the faint jingle of coins breaking the quiet.
"Oh, no, my Lady! There's no need to pay. It was an honor to serve you—truly. Please, it's on the house." The tavernkeeper waved his hands as if to emphasize his point, his expression earnest.
Serena paused, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly—not in anger, but in calculated thought. She set a handful of coins on the counter: one silver coin and five copper pieces. Enough to cover the meal, plus a generous tip.
The tavernkeeper hesitated, looking from the coins to her face, clearly unsure how to proceed. Serena's voice cut through his uncertainty, calm but firm. "Take it. The food and service were worth every coin."
"But, my Lady—"
She held up a gloved hand to silence him, her expression softening slightly. "You gave me excellent service, but next time, don't treat me differently from anyone else. No special treatment. No 'on the house.' If you want to show respect, do it the way you do with all your customers—by delivering quality food and service. That's enough."
The tavernkeeper blinked, his mouth opening as if to protest, but Serena wasn't finished. "If you insist on honoring me, then here's how: don't tell me the meal is free. Let me think it's just like any other transaction. When I come to pay, tell me the price quietly. No ceremony, no fuss. Understood?"
There was no malice in her tone, only a strange mixture of practicality and dignity. The tavernkeeper nodded quickly, scooping up the coins with both hands. "Yes, my Lady. Of course. I—thank you. Truly."
Serena turned to Lucien, who had been watching the exchange with mild amusement. "Shall we?" she asked, her tone clipped.
Lucien smirked, nodding. As they stepped out into the cool night air, he glanced at her sideways. "You really have a thing about not letting people treat you like royalty, don't you?"
"I'm not royalty," she replied simply, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "I'm a ruler. There's a difference. I don't need people bowing and scraping to me—I need them to do their jobs. That's how this city thrives."
Lucien chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Well, you certainly have a way of keeping people on their toes."
Serena smirked, her crimson eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. "It's what I do best. Now, let's get back to the castle before I start regretting that ale."
They walked on, the quiet streets of Celestafell stretching out before them, the faint glow of lanterns lighting their path. Behind them, the tavernkeeper watched from the door, a thoughtful expression on his face as he tucked the silver and copper coins into his apron pocket.
The stone corridors of the castle were quiet as Serena and Lucien returned from their evening in the city. The soft glow of enchanted sconces lit their way, casting flickering shadows on the walls. They walked in silence, the weight of the night's calm settling over them like a blanket.
As they approached the fork in the corridor that led to their respective chambers, Lucien slowed his steps, glancing briefly at Serena. "Well, that was… surprisingly tolerable," he muttered, his tone laced with grudging acknowledgment.
Serena smirked faintly, her crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "High praise, coming from you. Sleep well, Lucien." She nodded slightly and turned down the hall that led to her private chambers.
Lucien watched her for a moment before shaking his head and heading toward his own quarters. But just as he reached his door, he paused, glancing back down the corridor. To his surprise, Serena didn't enter her room. Instead, she walked past it, her steps purposeful, her black cloak trailing behind her like a shadow.
Curiosity tugged at him. Where could she possibly be going at this hour? Against his better judgment, he followed her, keeping his steps light and staying just far enough behind to remain unnoticed.
The Kitchen
The first place she stopped was the kitchen, a sprawling space filled with stone ovens, wooden prep tables, and hanging racks of copper pots and pans. The air was warm, still carrying the faint scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats from the evening's meals. A handful of staff were cleaning up, scrubbing pots and sweeping the floors.
"My Lady," one of the cooks stammered, nearly dropping a pot as Serena stepped inside.
She raised a hand to stop him. "Relax. I'm not here to inspect your work. I just wanted to thank you." Her voice was calm, almost soft. "The meals you prepare keep this castle running. Your efforts don't go unnoticed. Thank you, and good night."
The staff exchanged stunned glances as Serena turned and left, leaving behind a wave of hushed whispers. Lucien, watching from the shadows, frowned. She… thanked them?
The Armory
Next, Serena made her way to the armory, a dimly lit room filled with rows of polished weapons and neatly stacked armor. The blacksmiths and armorers were winding down for the night, their faces tired but satisfied as they inspected their handiwork.
"My Lady," one of the smiths said, straightening as she entered.
Serena nodded to him, her gaze sweeping over the room. "The guards rely on your work. You keep them safe, and in doing so, you keep this city safe. That's no small thing. Thank you for your hard work, and rest well."
The smith gave her a respectful bow, his expression one of quiet pride. Lucien, lingering just outside the armory door, felt the faintest flicker of something he couldn't name. Gratitude? No, that wasn't it…
The Laundry
Her next stop was the laundry, a humid room filled with wooden tubs and drying racks. A handful of laundresses were folding linens, their hands rough and reddened from the day's work. They froze as Serena stepped inside, their eyes wide.
"Ladies," she said, her tone kind but still commanding. "I imagine you don't hear this often enough, so let me say it now: your work is invaluable. You keep this castle running smoothly. Thank you for what you do. Sleep well tonight."
The laundresses gaped at her, one of them muttering a quiet, "Thank you, my Lady…" as Serena turned and left.
The Stables
From there, Serena headed to the stables, where the smell of hay and horses filled the cool night air. A pair of stablehands were brushing down the horses, their faces streaked with dirt.
"My Lady, you're out late," one of them said nervously, wiping his hands on his tunic.
"So are you," Serena replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "The care you give these animals ensures the messengers ride swiftly, the soldiers travel safely, and the city runs smoothly. Don't think that goes unnoticed. Thank you, and good night."
The stablehands watched her go, their expressions a mix of surprise and gratitude. From his hiding spot near the stable doors, Lucien felt his stomach twist. Why is she doing this?
The Servants' Quarters
Finally, Serena made her way to the servants' quarters, a modest wing of the castle where the castle's staff lived. The few servants still awake looked up in shock as she stepped inside.
"I know it's late," Serena began, her voice steady but warm, "but I wanted to thank you personally. Every detail you manage—from the clean floors to the polished silver—keeps this castle running. Your work matters, and I appreciate it. Sleep well, all of you."
They bowed deeply, murmuring their thanks as she turned to leave.
Lucien watched from a shadowed alcove as Serena stepped out of the servants' quarters, her cloak billowing faintly in the cool night breeze. For a moment, she paused, her gaze lifting to the starry sky. Her expression was unreadable, but something about the way she stood—quiet, solitary—struck him.
He turned away, his thoughts churning. He had followed her out of curiosity, expecting to catch her in some calculated act or uncover another layer of her manipulation. Instead, he had seen her thank every staff member in the castle—people who most nobles wouldn't spare a glance for. It wasn't for show. There was no audience, no fanfare, just quiet, sincere gratitude.
For the first time in a long while, Lucien felt his hatred flicker and dim. As much as he wanted to despise her, tonight, she had shown him something he couldn't ignore: she cared, in her own way. And that, more than anything else, left him unsettled.