Aurelion entered the room with measured calm, dressed in a tailored gray suit paired with a black shirt and polished black shoes. There was something different about him that day—not the authority of a duke, nor the composure of a seasoned statesman, but the quiet gravity of a father about to let go. He closed the door gently behind him and smiled at the two men waiting inside. "I suppose you're ready?" he asked.
"Yes," Youri and Roland answered in perfect unison, the synchronicity drawing a faint amused breath from Aurelion.
He stepped toward Youri first. Slipping a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, he retrieved a small velvet box, dark and unassuming, yet clearly ancient in significance. He held it for a moment before opening it, revealing two rings resting side by side. They were not overly ornate; their beauty lay in craftsmanship rather than extravagance. Subtle engravings ran along the inner band—markings of a lineage older than most.
"These," Aurelion said quietly, looking directly at Youri, "are the rings my wife and I exchanged on the day of our wedding."
Youri did not speak. He simply watched, his posture straight but respectful.
"They are not merely sentimental heirlooms," Aurelion continued. "They have been passed down in the Kaelthorn family since our earliest ancestors first held this title. When these rings are given to the next generation, it is more than marriage—it is succession. The moment you place these upon each other's hands, you will become Duke of Kaelthorn alongside Leonora as Duchess."
Silence lingered between them. Youri slowly accepted the box and placed it carefully into his pocket, treating it not as jewelry, but as responsibility.
He lifted his eyes to meet Aurelion's.
"Thank you… father," he said, the word unfamiliar yet sincere. "Thank you for accepting someone like me into your family."
Aurelion stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Youri's arm. "I may not have been the best father," he admitted, voice steady but softer than usual, "but I have never wished for my children to live without happiness. If accepting you gives my daughter the life she chooses… then I would do it again and again."
There was no grand speech after that. None was needed.
The ceremony began as the sun dipped low over Fansilia, casting the garden in hues of gold and amber. Guests filled the estate grounds gradually—nobles dressed in tailored silks and formal suits, officers in decorated uniforms, and familiar faces woven between the aristocracy. Marta stood near the back, elegant and observant, a subtle smile on her lips. Adin lingered closer to the front, posture composed yet unreadable. Even Halvek attended, standing tall and impassive, though his presence drew quiet whispers among the guests. Whatever politics once defined them, tonight they were witnesses.
Youri stood at the altar beneath an arch of white blossoms intertwined with silver thread.
The music began softly.
Lights dimmed across the garden, replaced by warm lantern glow. Two young children walked slowly along the white silk aisle, scattering petals across the grass. Laughter rippled gently among the guests.
Then the mansion doors opened.
The first thing Youri noticed was her hair.
Silver.
It caught the light as though spun from moonlight itself. Leonora stepped forward, arm in arm with Aurelion. Her hair had been gently drawn back from her temples and secured at the crown, while the rest cascaded down her back in soft waves. She wore no crown. She needed none.
Her face carried soft bridal makeup that enhanced rather than concealed—rosy warmth on her cheeks, subtle definition to her lips, and eyes that shone dark and deep, obsidian against silver.
But it was her gown that stole his breath entirely.
The dress embraced her figure with a sculpted off-the-shoulder bodice, the neckline folded elegantly across her collarbones in a graceful sweetheart curve. It cinched her waist perfectly, giving her silhouette regal poise. From that fitted waist, the skirt flowed outward into a grand ball-gown sweep, the fabric shimmering faintly as it caught the fading sunlight. It was not loud sparkle, but delicate radiance—every movement luminous and fluid. A daring front slit revealed a glimpse of her leg and elegant heels as she walked, a bold contrast to the gown's otherwise timeless romance. Behind her, the train followed seamlessly, trailing like liquid silver across the aisle.
Her eyes never left Youri.
Those who witnessed her entrance would later say that if beauty had ever taken form in flesh, it stood before them that evening as Leonora Kaelthorn.
She reached the altar.
Aurelion placed her hand into Youri's. Before stepping away, he pulled her gently into one last embrace. "My beautiful daughter," he whispered, voice thick with restrained emotion, "may the happiness you feel today last as long as you draw breath."
Leonora smiled brightly before watching him descend to his seat among the guests.
Roland stepped forward then, dressed sharply, his composure blending brotherly affection with ceremonial dignity. He stood before them, glancing briefly at both before beginning.
"We are gathered here on this beautiful evening," he said, voice carrying clearly across the garden, "to witness two souls who have walked separate, often painful roads, finally choosing to walk as one."
Leonora squeezed Youri's hand slightly.
Roland continued, "Youri Kronos, soon to be Duke of Kaelthorn—do you take Leonora Kaelthorn as your beloved wife? Will you stand beside her through hardship and challenge, through light and shadow, for as long as fate grants you breath?"
Youri looked into Leonora's eyes.
In that moment, everything he had survived—the war, the loss, the guilt, the years of believing he was unworthy—collapsed into something singular and undeniable. He had never imagined he would stand here. He had believed this life was not meant for him.
But the truth was simple.
He loved her.
"With all my heart," he said, voice steady yet filled with emotion he no longer hid, "to the love of my life—the only thing I am truly proud to have known—yes. I do."
Tears streamed down Leonora's cheeks, not delicate or restrained, but honest and bright. Those would be the last tears of pure happiness she would shed without shadow.
Roland turned toward her. "Leonora Kaelthorn, do you take Youri Kronos as your beloved husband? Will you remain at his side through hardship and challenge, no matter what fate demands?"
Leonora did not hesitate.
"Yes!" she declared, voice strong and radiant. "Yes, I do!"
Applause erupted.
Youri retrieved the small velvet box. His hands did not tremble this time. He slid the ancient ring onto her finger, the metal catching the golden light of dusk. She did the same for him, sealing not only their vows but the lineage of Kaelthorn itself.
As their lips met, fireworks ignited across the Fansilian sky, bursting into cascades of gold and silver above the estate. Light reflected off glass towers in the distance, turning the skyline into a shimmering crown.
Under that golden dawn of celebration, Duke Youri Kaelthorn and Duchess Leonora Kaelthorn stood together—two souls who had survived opposite sides of fate, now bound as one.
And for that fleeting, perfect evening, the world felt at peace.