Lilithe's plan to feign amnesia about her attacker was proving successful. Two days had slipped by without any new assassination attempts, and the tension that had once weighed heavy in the castle halls seemed to ease—if only slightly. Cedric kept his distance, avoiding the throne room as much as possible. Instead, he spent his time mingling with courtiers, his wife dutifully on his arm. He played his part well, but Lilithe knew better. His avoidance wasn't out of guilt or fear, but strategy. He was planning something, but what exactly, she had yet to uncover.

Meanwhile, Lucy often accompanied Lady Jessamine, the two women working to blend in with the court, gathering subtle bits of gossip that could aid Lilithe's cause. Sting, Mephisto, and Bastien, now disguised as bodyguards, shadowed them at a respectful distance, always alert, their ears trained for any valuable intel that might slip from careless lips. While also keeping an eye on everyone that Cadric interacted with. Though the courtiers rarely spoke openly of Cedric's schemes, every now and then a careless whisper would reach them—a piece of the puzzle Lilithe needed.

As for Rogue, he continued to guard Lilithe, though his work had become more difficult. During the day, there were fewer shadows for him to slip into, and Lilithe had taken to locking herself in her office, pouring over documents and letters with a sharp eye. Jessamine's discreet flow of information kept coming in, revealing more and more of Cedric's tangled web of deceit.

Lilithe's mood had improved, though it was tempered by the gravity of what she was uncovering. Cedric was becoming increasingly desperate and reckless, and with each passing day, more threads of his treachery began to unravel. The evidence was mounting, and soon, she would have enough to expose him before the court and the realm.

One afternoon, Lilithe sat at her desk, poring over another batch of documents Jessamine had procured. Her eyes skimmed over the lines of coded text, the aliases Cedric had been using to hide his dealings. There was satisfaction in finding the truth, but also a simmering anger beneath the surface.

"I've uncovered a list of individuals my uncle has been communicating with under false names," Lilithe announced, her voice steady but laced with bitterness. She looked up from the papers, her blue eyes glowing with a mix of triumph and frustration. "It led me to a string of businesses in the South of Valentine that are under his control. I can only imagine how many people have suffered because of them."

Rogue, who had materialized from the shadows, stepped forward, his expression unreadable but his presence comforting. "That's a start," he murmured, glancing at the documents spread across her desk. "But Cedric won't stop. If anything, this will make him more dangerous."

Lilithe nodded, leaning back in her chair with a weary sigh. "I know," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "I'm happy we found something this solid, but I'm furious at how much he's been able to get away with. So many lives affected—hurt or ruined by his greed and treachery. I can't even begin to think how deep this goes."

Rogue's hand rested on the back of her chair, his eyes steady on hers. "Then we hit him where it hurts. We expose this, make sure he can't hide behind his titles or his alliances. You'll win, Lilithe. He's losing control."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, determination hardening her features. "He will pay," she whispered, more to herself than to Rogue. "I won't stop until he's brought down."

Outside the window, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the room. Lilithe's mind churned with the weight of what she had uncovered, the scope of Cedric's deceit growing larger with each revelation.

Lilithe paused, her gaze distant as a twinge of guilt flickered in her chest. She partly blamed herself for everything that had unfolded, for allowing it all to happen under her watch. But she couldn't afford to dwell on that guilt now—there was no time for self-pity, not with the game they were playing.

"Whatever happened to Delphie?" Lilithe asked suddenly, her focus shifting back to the papers spread before her. She adjusted the delicate, silver-rimmed reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, her eyes narrowing as she scanned another line of text.

Rogue, seated across from her, raised his head slightly. "He had her released. She's back to working as the maid she was before," he answered, his voice calm but thoughtful. He leaned back in his chair, watching Lilithe carefully.

A slow smile curled on Lilithe's lips. "Perfect."

Rogue's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why is that?"

Lilithe's eyes gleamed with cunning as she set the document down, her fingers tracing the edges thoughtfully. "Because I can use her," she explained, her voice laced with calculated intent. "Delphie has access to parts of the castle Cedric can't. She's beneath the notice of courtiers, just another servant in their eyes, but she sees and hears more than they realize. I'll use her to find out who Cedric's allies are here—those who still stand with him."

Rogue watched her closely, intrigued by the sharp turn of her thoughts. "And how do you plan to do that?"

Lilithe smiled again, this time with a dangerous edge. "Tonight, I want you to follow her," she instructed, her tone firm. "Stay in the shadows, listen in on her conversations, and report everything to me. If Cedric's conspirators are still moving through the court, she will unknowingly lead us to them."

Rogue nodded, his expression serious now. "Consider it done."

Lilithe's confidence never wavered as she continued, "Cedric's been too reckless lately, too comfortable. We need to make sure he doesn't suspect that we're tightening the noose." She stood, moving toward the window, staring out into the darkening sky. "Delphie will give us what we need. And when she does, Cedric will fall."

Mephisto stood in the shadows of the maze garden, his body tense as he watched his father through the spaces of groups. The man he had once admired was speaking to a group of courtiers, his voice smooth and calculated. Every word that left Cedric's mouth was a lie, a twisting of truth to bend others to his will.

But the courtiers listened, nodded in agreement, unaware of the blood that stained Cedric's hands. Mephisto's hands clenched into fists at his sides as the weight of his father's betrayal crashed over him once more. How had he not seen it before? The ambition, the hunger for power—it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. But this… this was madness.

His thoughts drifted back to the dungeons. He remembered the cold, damp stone against his skin, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and his father standing over him. Cedric's eyes had been wild, full of something dark and twisted, as if he no longer saw his own son—only an obstacle, something to be discarded if it meant seizing the throne. The memory of his father's face—contorted with rage, shouting at him to execute Bastien and Rogue—sent a shiver down his spine.

Mephisto had refused, of course. How could he not? But it wasn't his refusal that haunted him most. It was the look on Cedric's face when he said it. The cold indifference, the way he had so casually sentenced his own blood to death, as if family meant nothing, as if all of this—the lies, the manipulation, the deaths—was just another step toward the crown. The madness had taken root deep inside Cedric, and Mephisto was left wondering just how far his father would go.

"I never thought it would come to this," Mephisto whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible as he watched his father laugh with his sycophants. How many lives had Cedric destroyed to get this far? How many sacrifices had been made in the name of ambition?

The betrayal burned in his chest, an ache that he couldn't shake. His father had always been ruthless, but this—this was monstrous.

A hand clapped softly on Mephisto's shoulder, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. He looked up to see Sting standing beside him, his expression soft but resolute.

"I know what you're thinking," Sting said quietly, his voice steady. "And you don't have to go through it alone."

Mephisto swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions clawing at his throat. "I don't know if I can do this," he admitted, his voice shaky. "How do you turn against your own father? How do you betray the man who raised you, even when he's become… this?"

Sting's grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, his blue eyes filled with understanding. "He's the one who betrayed you first, Mephisto. What he's doing… it's not just wrong. It's evil. And you can't let him drag you down with him."

Mephisto's gaze fell, the weight of Sting's words sinking in. "I can't believe how far he's fallen," he muttered, his hands trembling as he stared at the figure of his father in the distance. "The man I grew up with is gone. And I… I don't know how to stop him."

"You don't have to do it alone," Sting repeated, his tone firm. "We're all in this together. Rogue, Lucy, Bastien, Lilithe—we're all here to fight this. And you don't need to carry the burden of his sins by yourself."

Mephisto let out a slow breath, feeling the sting of tears he refused to shed. "It's just… seeing him like this, knowing what he's capable of now… I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him the same way again."

"You probably won't," Sting said gently. "But that doesn't make you weak. It makes you strong enough to stand against him." He gave Mephisto a reassuring squeeze before letting go. "We'll find a way to stop him. And we'll do it together."

For the first time in what felt like days, Mephisto allowed himself to nod. Sting was right—he wasn't alone in this. And whatever came next, he would face it with them. His father may have fallen into madness, but Mephisto wouldn't let it consume him too.

As they stepped back into the shadows, Mephisto cast one last glance at his father, the man who had betrayed everything they once stood for. Cedric's laughter echoed in the open air, but all Mephisto could hear was the sound of chains rattling in the dungeons, the memory of his father's monstrous gaze seared into his mind.

Later that night, the atmosphere in Lilithe's office was intense and focused. The three women—Lilithe, Lucy, and Jessamine—huddled around the large desk, their attention fixed on the spread of documents and findings before them. They exchanged hushed discussions, their brows furrowed in concentration as they sifted through the evidence.

Meanwhile, the four men found their place near the fireplace, its flickering light casting shadows on their faces. Rogue, Mephisto, Bastien, and Sting stood in a loose group, their eyes occasionally darting toward the women as they worked. The warmth of the fire contrasted sharply with the tense air, and the men's murmured conversations and occasional chuckles provided a quieter counterpoint to the women's serious deliberations.

Each of them seemed to find a small measure of comfort in the shared space, the flicker of the flames a small solace against the backdrop of the ongoing intrigue. The office, filled with the scent of burning logs and the low hum of discussion, became a temporary refuge—a place where the bonds between them were strengthened even amid the uncertainty of their mission.

Bastien clapped Mephisto on the shoulder with a teasing grin. "You should get laid sometime, mate. It might bring you some relief."

Mephisto snorted, shaking his head. "I'm content as I am."

Bastien chuckled, leaning back against one of the walls. "I'm telling you, once you're in between the legs of a woman, it's the best stress relief you'll ever get. Way better than any of that brooding in the shadows you love so much."

Rogue, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at Bastien. "You do realize we're in the middle of a conspiracy to overthrow a Duke, right?"

Bastien waved his hand dismissively. "Details, details. Look around." He gestured toward the crowded clearing below in the gardens. "All these courtiers, none the wiser. You could easily charm one of them, Mephisto. And, trust me, it'll take the edge off."

Mephisto let out a low laugh. "We're hiding from my father, who's lost his mind and is plotting to kill us all. Trying to charm a woman into my bed is the last thing on my mind."

"All the more reason to," Bastien shot back. "Live a little before we're dead."

Sting, who had been quietly observing the banter, chuckled. "He's got a point, you know. You've been carrying a lot, Mephisto. It might do you some good to loosen up."

Mephisto gave him a dry look. "You're all hopeless. I'm trying to make sure we don't get killed, and you want me to indulge in the company of some random courtier?"

"Exactly!" Bastien laughed. "What better way to forget about impending doom than a little distraction? It's what I do."

Rogue crossed his arms, glancing between them. "You mean that's why you always disappear during missions?"

Bastien winked. "Gotta find ways to stay sane, don't I?"

Mephisto rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "I think I'll pass."

Sting leaned over with a grin. "You're missing out, Mephisto. But don't worry, we'll make sure you survive long enough to reconsider."

The four of them shared a moment of laughter, the tension in the air easing slightly. For a brief moment, it felt like they weren't ensnared in a web of political intrigue, like they could just be four men sharing jokes and banter, momentarily forgetting the weight of the lives at stake.

Mephisto shook his head, a small smile lingering on his lips. "You're all impossible."

"That's why you love us," Sting said with a grin.

"Unfortunately," Mephisto replied, though his tone was light, betraying a sense of relief. Amidst the chaos and responsibility, the camaraderie provided a welcome respite.

For now, that was enough.

Lady Jessamine's voice cut through the room with an air of mock exasperation. "Are you four done speaking of women?"

Bastien, flashing a mischievous grin, turned to Jessamine. "Woman and sex are always favorite topics. It's a bit of an occupational hazard."

Sting shifted uncomfortably under Lucy's judging gaze but quickly moved to her side, insisting their conversation was merely in jest. Meanwhile, Rogue approached Lilithe, burying his face into her hair as she tried to maintain a semblance of indifference, her cheeks flushed despite her attempt to appear unaffected.

The playful banter and gentle teasing offered a brief, much-needed diversion from the gravity of their situation, their laughter mingling with the crackle of the fireplace as they awaited the outcome of their perilous mission.

Lilithe sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the crackling fireplace, her posture relaxed as she focused intently on a colorful array of crayons scattered around her. Beside her, Frosh, the exceed perched comfortably on a cushion, was deeply engrossed in a coloring book.

The warmth of the fire cast a soft, golden glow over the room, illuminating the vibrant colors of the drawings they were creating. Lilithe's delicate fingers moved carefully as she helped Frosh stay within the lines, her laughter mingling with the cheerful chatter of the little exceed.

The peace of the moment was interrupted only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the rhythmic scratching of crayons against paper. Lilithe's eyes occasionally drifted to the door, where she knew Mephisto stood as her silent guard, his presence a reassuring constant while Rogue was out following Delphie.

Mephisto stood by the entrance, his posture alert but his expression softened by the domestic scene before him. He watched the pair with a quiet sense of duty and care, making sure that Lilithe was safe even as she found a rare moment of tranquility amidst the turmoil.

"Mephisto," Lilithe blinked over to him. "Please come sit." He came to sit on her couch, she watched him for a moment.

"What?"

"We haven't had a chance to talk about how you are feeling about your Father. About what he has done."

Mephisto settled onto the couch beside Lilithe, his posture still tense despite the comfortable setting. He stared into the fire for a moment, the flickering flames reflecting in his eyes as he gathered his thoughts.

"It's… it's difficult," Mephisto finally said, his voice heavy with emotion. "I'm angry. Furious, actually. I thought I knew my father, and understood his ambitions. But this… this is beyond what I ever imagined. To think he could betray everything he's built, everything he's claimed to stand for. To betray our family like this."

He looked at Lilithe, his gaze full of pain. "I feel so useless, Lilithe. He's been operating right under my nose, manipulating everything, and I was too blind to see it. I should have known, should have seen the signs. It's like I failed him, failed everyone who trusted me to keep things in check."

Mephisto's voice broke slightly as he continued, "And it's not just him. My own men… they broke their oaths to me. They turned against me, against everything we stood for."

Lilithe reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "You did your best, Mephisto. None of us could have anticipated this level of betrayal. You were not the only one who was blind."

Mephisto nodded, though the weight of his regret still lingered. "I just hope it's enough. I hope we can make things right."

Lilithe gave him a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with understanding. "It will be."

Lucy sat across from Lilithe in the cozy warmth of the office, papers and evidence strewn across the desk in front of them. She was supposed to be helping Lilithe organize everything for the council meeting tomorrow, but her thoughts kept drifting, unable to focus on the task at hand. All she could think about was the kiss she'd shared with Sting last night.

It had been unexpected, intense—and now, she was confused.

Lilithe glanced at her from across the table, her eyes soft and understanding. "Something is on your mind," she said gently, as if not wanting to startle her.

Lucy flushed, caught off guard. "Yes, but... it's not that important."

Lilithe tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "You're not a very good liar, Lucy."

Lucy let out a soft sigh, her fingers tracing the edges of the papers absentmindedly. "I'm just… confused. About Sting."

"Ah." Lilithe set down the document she was reading and leaned back in her chair, giving Lucy her full attention. "Tell me what's on your mind."

Lucy hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "I—I love Natsu. I have for a long time. But now… after last night, I think I'm starting to fall for Sting too. It doesn't make sense. How can I feel this way about both of them? Isn't that wrong?" Her voice faltered, laced with uncertainty.

Lilithe smiled, a gentle and understanding expression that calmed some of Lucy's nerves. "Love is complicated, Lucy. It's not always as simple or as clear-cut as we want it to be. Sometimes, your heart surprises you."

Lucy looked down, twisting her fingers together. "But how can I be in love with two people? I feel guilty, like I'm betraying Natsu by feeling this way about Sting."

Lilithe reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on Lucy's. "Your heart is capable of more than you think. There's no rule that says you can only love one person. You have a big heart, Lucy, and it's possible to love more than one person deeply and genuinely—especially when both are as special to you as Natsu and Sting are."

Lucy's eyes widened slightly, her mind racing with Lilithe's words. "But… what if it's not fair to either of them?"

"Fairness isn't always about limiting yourself to one feeling or one person," Lilithe explained softly. "Sometimes, fairness is about being honest with yourself and with those you care about. Natsu and Sting are both dragonslayers—they understand the complexity of emotions, and they're stronger than you think. You don't have to choose right now. What's important is that you let your heart guide you, not your fear."

Lucy blinked, her chest tightening at the thought. "But what if they don't accept it? What if I hurt them both?"

Lilithe squeezed her hand gently. "You won't know unless you're honest with them and yourself. The love you have for Natsu doesn't diminish because you've found something meaningful with Sting. It just means you have a heart big enough to hold both."

Lucy stared at Lilithe for a moment, letting her words sink in. She had never thought about it like that before, and somehow, it felt like a weight was lifting off her shoulders.

"Thank you, Lilithe," she whispered.

Lilithe smiled warmly. "You'll figure this out. And no matter what, remember—you're not betraying anyone by loving them both. Love is never a betrayal."

Lucy nodded, though the weight of her feelings still tugged at her. She wasn't sure if she believed Lilithe entirely, but her words gave her comfort, a small beacon of hope in the storm of emotions she had been battling.

In an effort to lighten the mood, Lucy forced a smile. "How are things between Rogue and yourself?"

Lilithe's face softened, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We are growing close," she admitted, her voice filled with warmth and a hint of wonder. "I have never had feelings for a man before in a romantic sense. It's new and beautiful. Rogue is… he's kind, thoughtful. He makes me feel safe in a way I've never felt before."

"He is a good person," Lucy agreed, watching Lilithe's expression with quiet admiration.

Lilithe's eyes drifted toward the empty space beside her, as though expecting Rogue to materialize out of the shadows at any moment. "Indeed, a good man," she repeated, her voice almost wistful. There was a softness in her gaze, one that Lucy hadn't seen before. It made her wonder how deeply Lilithe had already fallen for him, despite how new their connection was.

As the silence stretched between them, Lucy found her own thoughts wandering. She glanced down at her hands, her fingers nervously twisting together. Lilithe's words still echoed in her mind, but her heart was a storm of conflicting emotions. Could she really love both Natsu and Sting? Could her heart truly hold space for them both without betraying one or the other?

She closed her eyes briefly, thinking back to the kiss she shared with Sting. It had felt natural, like something she had wanted for longer than she realized. Yet, Natsu still held such a large part of her heart—how could she navigate this without hurting someone?

But as she watched Lilithe, who had once been so guarded and reserved, now open to the possibility of love with Rogue, Lucy felt a strange sense of peace begin to settle over her. Perhaps it was okay to let things unfold, to allow herself to feel without trying to control every outcome. Maybe, just maybe, she could let her connection with Sting grow without it meaning the end of what she shared with Natsu.

A small smile crept onto her face as she made up her mind. She would allow herself to see where things went with Sting. It didn't have to be perfect or make sense right away. For once, she would let her heart lead, just as Lilithe had said.

Turning back to Lilithe, Lucy's smile grew wider. "I think you're right, Lilithe. About everything."

Lilithe tilted her head slightly, a curious look in her eyes. "About love?"

"Yes," Lucy replied. "I think I'll let things between Sting and me… unravel naturally. I don't have to force it, or fight it. I just need to let myself feel."

Lilithe's smile returned, a look of understanding passing between them. "That's the best way, Lucy. Love doesn't always come with clear answers, but it does come with trust—trust in yourself, and in the people you care about."

For the first time in days, Lucy felt a sense of clarity. Whatever would happen between her, Natsu, and Sting, she would face it with an open heart. She wasn't betraying anyone by feeling deeply; she was just learning how to love in her own way. And in this moment, that was enough.

Lilithe stood by the fire, the flickering flames casting warm light across her features, deepening the shadows of fatigue that had settled under her eyes. She rubbed her temple, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders. Tomorrow would be the day she would finally confront Cedric, the day she would set everything into motion. But for now, all she wanted was a moment of peace.

Rogue, who had been watching her quietly from the shadows, stepped forward. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, as though he didn't want to disturb the calm that had settled in the room. "You should rest."

Lilithe turned to him, offering a small smile. "I will," she promised, but her mind was still racing, unable to fully let go of the anxiety gnawing at her.

Rogue gave her a knowing look, his piercing gaze full of concern. He stepped closer, his hands finding the clasp of her cloak. "Let me help."

She didn't resist as he unclasped the fabric, letting it fall to the floor. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin as he helped her out of the heavier garments she had worn throughout the day. There was a tenderness in his movements, the intimacy of the moment not lost on either of them.

"Turn around," he murmured, his voice low.

Lilithe did as he asked, her breath hitching slightly as his fingers traced the lace ties at the back of her dress. With careful precision, he untied the knots, loosening the fabric until it slid off her shoulders, leaving her in her nightgown. The cool air brushed against her bare skin, but Rogue's presence was a warmth that soothed her.

He stepped away for a moment, removing his own shirt and shoes, leaving him dressed in just his pants. His strong frame was lit by the glow of the fire, casting shadows that danced over his lean muscles. Lilithe couldn't help but admire the way he moved, always with purpose, yet with a certain softness when it came to her.

Once Rogue was ready for bed, he crossed the room and took her hand, guiding her gently to the edge of the bed. She followed him wordlessly, allowing herself to relax in his presence, to let go of the chaos for just a little while.

As they both slipped under the covers, Rogue pulled her close, his arm wrapping securely around her waist. Lilithe rested her head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming her own racing thoughts. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering there for a moment before pulling away.

"Everything is set for tomorrow," he said quietly. "We've done all we can. Now, you need to sleep. You'll need your strength."

Lilithe nodded against him, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to unwind. "I'm just… ready for it all to end," she whispered, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "I'm ready for peace."

"You'll have it," Rogue promised, his hand stroking her back in soothing circles. "But for now, rest. I'll keep watch over you."

She smiled softly, knowing that as long as Rogue was by her side, she could face whatever came next. Her eyes fluttered closed, the warmth of his embrace and the gentle sound of his breathing lulling her into a peaceful sleep.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the tall windows, casting a soft glow on the ornate chambers where Lilithe stood before a full-length mirror. She gazed at herself, her face set with a quiet determination. The gown before her was a thing of beauty, shimmering with an opalescent sheen. The silver-blue fabric was delicate and sheer, almost ethereal, as though it had been woven from moonlight itself. It was bold, the kind of gown that demanded attention and spoke of the strength that would soon be revealed to her court.

Rogue stood beside her, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made the air between them hum. He didn't say a word, simply reaching for the gown as it hung by the mirror. His hands moved with a gentle precision as he lifted it, his fingers brushing against the cool fabric.

"You're sure about this?" he asked softly, his voice low and careful, as if this moment were as fragile as the gown in his hands.

Lilithe nodded, her gaze unwavering. "I need them to see me for who I am—unbroken, unafraid. Cedric has already tried to take everything from me. Now, I'll take it back."

Rogue's lips twitched into a small smile, admiration evident in his eyes. "You'll do more than take it back."

He moved behind her, and Lilithe lifted her arms slightly, allowing him to slip the sleeveless gown over her head. The sheer, delicate fabric cascaded down her body like liquid silk, pooling gently at her feet in soft folds. Rogue's fingers brushed her bare shoulders, his touch careful and precise as he adjusted the gown's thin straps, making sure it sat perfectly against her skin.

His hands moved to the small ties at the back, fingers deftly working the fastenings. Each movement was deliberate, as though every lace mattered. The opalescent shimmer of the gown caught the morning light, the fabric clinging softly to her form, accentuating the regal strength she carried within.

With a final tug, Rogue secured the ties, his hands lingering briefly against the smooth fabric before he stepped back to admire her transformation. The gown was as ethereal as she was, the delicate material hinting at her vulnerability but also reinforcing her strength.

The gown was sheer, revealing more than concealing, but it was a statement as much as a garment. It was armor of a different kind—delicate, yet impenetrable in the message it sent.

Rogue's hands lingered at her waist for a moment, his touch grounding her in the present. She met his gaze in the mirror, her own eyes softening for a moment. He was always there—her silent protector in the shadows, always close, always watching over her.

"I will be with you," Rogue said, his voice steady. "Every step of the way."

Lilithe turned to face him, her heart swelling with both gratitude and the unspoken bond between them. "I know," she replied quietly. "I couldn't have come this far without you."

He reached up to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. "They'll see you for who you truly are today. And Cedric… he won't have a chance."

Lilithe let out a slow breath, steadying herself. "I hope you're right. Everything depends on this."

Rogue's gaze darkened slightly, a flicker of protectiveness crossing his features. "I'm always right."

That earned a small smile from her, a brief reprieve from the weight of what was to come. But as she stepped back, she grabbed her Father's sword and tied it to her waist.

"I'm ready," she said, her voice firm now.

Rogue offered her his arm, and she took it, the cool touch of the gown brushing against her skin as they began to move toward the doors.

"The court won't know what hit them," Rogue murmured as they walked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Lilithe's gaze sharpened with determination, her eyes gleaming with a fierce resolve. "Neither will Cedric."

She adjusted her crown as they continued down the grand hall, the soft shimmer of the opalescent fabric trailing behind her. Every step she took felt like a declaration, each movement infused with purpose.

"Is everything in place?" she asked, her voice calm but with a steel edge.

Rogue nodded, his expression serious as he matched her pace. "Marian has already ensured the court, the gentry, and your allies are gathered in the Throne Room, just as you've ordered. Everyone is ready for what comes next."

Lilithe gave a slight nod, her expression unyielding. "Good."

Rogue glanced at her, admiration flickering in his eyes. He'd seen her fight battles before, but this—this was different. This was her kingdom, her birthright, and the confrontation that would decide everything.