Perched on her throne, Lilithe maintained a cold, indifferent stare. The Throne Room was heavy with silence, the kind that gnawed at nerves, heightening tension. Her gaze swept over the assembled courtiers and nobles, their anxious expressions betraying the unease they felt. Beneath her indifferent exterior, Lilithe relished the moment—this stillness before the storm she was about to unleash.
Her wolves, massive and silent, flanked her throne, their watchful eyes taking in the room. Their presence was unsettling, the faint growl from one enough to make even the most composed lords and ladies shift uneasily. She noticed how the guests avoided eye contact with the beasts, their nervous glances darting toward the predators, fully aware that their purpose here was more than symbolic.
It was delicious watching them squirm.
Off to the side, Duke Cedric stood stiff, his eyes never leaving her. His forced calm betrayed the nervous twitch in his hands, and Lilithe took sick pleasure in watching beads of sweat form along his brow, staining his finely tailored suit. He was waiting—just as she had been waiting, carefully letting the tension build.
"I imagine you are all curious as to why I have summoned you here?" Lilithe's voice cut through the silence like a blade, soft yet laced with venom. Her smile was sickly sweet, her tone dripping with false warmth.
Eyes turned toward her, curious and cautious, but none dared to speak. Even Cedric remained still, his gaze narrowing but his lips tightly sealed.
"I have uncovered treachery," she continued, her smile widening, "a betrayal so deep, it threatens not just my throne but the very fabric of our kingdom."
Cedric's eyes darkened, his hand tightening around the edge of his chair. The court murmured nervously, glancing between Lilithe and her uncle, sensing the impending chaos. But Lilithe remained calm, her wolves standing ready to tear apart anything or anyone who might dare to defy her. She reveled in the moment, knowing that the worst was yet to come.
And Cedric had no idea just how much of a storm was about to descend upon him.
The atmosphere in the Throne Room was thick with tension as Lilithe's voice rang out, commanding the attention of every soul present. Her wolves prowled restlessly at her feet, sensing the brewing confrontation. Marian, Lilithe's most trusted servant, stepped forward with several others, each carrying stacks of parchment bound together in leather folders. Inside those folders was the evidence—the damning proof of Duke Cedric's treachery.
"Marian," Lilithe said with cool authority, "begin distributing the documents."
The crowd shifted uneasily as Marian and the other servants began passing out the folders, each one marked with the royal seal of Valentine. The courtiers whispered to one another, their eyes flickering between the throne and the Duke, who now looked pale, beads of sweat dotting his brow. His composure was fraying at the edges as he watched Marian move through the room, ensuring that every noble received their copy.
The silence in the room deepened as the pages were opened. The contents inside were clear: financial records, secret correspondences, signatures—proof that Duke Cedric had been plotting against the crown, scheming to usurp Lilithe's throne for himself. The faint rustle of parchment filled the air, followed by sharp intakes of breath as realization dawned on the faces of the nobles.
Lilithe remained perched on her throne, her fingers lightly tracing the armrests as she observed the reactions. Her expression was unreadable, cold. Calculating. This was a moment she had planned for meticulously. Every word, every gesture—deliberate and calculated.
"Duke Cedric," Lilithe called, her voice echoing across the room. "Step forward."
All eyes turned toward Cedric. The weight of her command was undeniable. For a moment, he hesitated. His eyes flickered with panic as the reality of his situation began to sink in, but he knew there was no escape. Slowly, he stepped away from the crowd, his steps faltering as he made his way toward the throne.
"Closer," Lilithe commanded, her tone sharper this time, cutting through the tension like a knife.
Cedric approached the throne, his back straightening as he tried to muster whatever remnants of dignity he had left. His eyes met hers, but Lilithe did not flinch. Instead, she stared him down, her gaze unyielding, filled with icy fury.
The court watched in rapt silence, tension coiling tighter with every passing second. Cedric stood before her, trying to maintain his composure, but it was clear to everyone in the room that he was no longer the powerful figure he had once portrayed himself to be. The evidence was damning, and his betrayal was now laid bare for all to see.
"Your Majesty," Cedric began, his voice shaking despite his best efforts to appear calm, "I don't know what has led you to believe—"
Lilithe raised a hand, silencing him instantly. The authority in her gesture left no room for argument. "The time for lies is over, Uncle." She spat the word 'uncle' as though it tasted bitter on her tongue. "The evidence you see before you proves your treachery beyond any doubt. For months—no, for years—you have schemed, plotted, and betrayed the trust of this crown. You aimed to seize what does not belong to you."
Cedric's face reddened, but his mouth remained shut. He glanced around the room, searching for any sign of support, but the faces that met his gaze were filled with condemnation. His allies, those he had counted on, now stood still, unwilling to come to his defense. They, too, had seen the evidence, and they knew it was irrefutable.
"The businesses in the South," Lilithe continued, her voice steady but dripping with venom, "the forged signatures, the bribery of nobles to support your claim to the throne… all of it, orchestrated by you, with the goal of toppling my rule. My rule, which you swore to protect!"
Her voice echoed in the hall, and the wolves growled lowly at her feet, their golden eyes fixated on Cedric.
He opened his mouth to speak again, to attempt some form of defense, but Lilithe was not finished.
"You dared to poison me, to incapacitate me, and assume you could rule in my absence." Her voice was rising, filled with righteous anger. "You thought me weak, that I wouldn't see through your petty plots. And now, as you stand here exposed for the traitor you are, I ask you—what do you have to say for yourself?"
Cedric's lips trembled, and for a moment, the court held its breath. But when he finally spoke, it was with desperation, not defiance.
"I did what was necessary," Cedric rasped. "You don't understand—Valentine needs strong leadership! The old ways—my ways—are the only path to maintaining our kingdom's strength. You, Lilithe, you're—"
"I am what?" Lilithe's eyes flashed dangerously. "Weak? Naive? You would lecture me about leadership when you've cowered in the shadows, plotting your petty schemes?"
Her voice grew louder, more forceful. "You have brought ruin to this kingdom! The blood of innocents is on your hands. Every business, every noble house that has fallen to ruin because of your greed—each one is a testament to your betrayal!"
Cedric's face twisted in anger and fear, but Lilithe did not relent. She rose from her throne, standing tall and regal as she stared him down, her wolves standing at her sides like sentinels.
"The evidence is here for all to see," she continued, her voice now cold as ice. "You have no defense, Cedric. And tomorrow, the council will decide your fate."
She turned her back on him, her gaze falling on the court. "Let this be a lesson to all who would conspire against the crown. Treachery will not go unpunished."
Cedric stood frozen in place, his face ashen. He had no more words. No more lies. All he could do was wait for the final judgment that was to come. And in that silence, the weight of his betrayal pressed down on him, suffocating.
Lilithe sat with regal poise as the weight of the court's eyes pressed on her. Rogue, Mephisto, and Sting—each disguised in the garb of royal guards—moved forward, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords as they approached Duke Cedric. Cedric's gaze darted nervously between them, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though he would submit to the inevitable. But then, something in him shifted.
With a sudden, dark fury, Cedric's lips curled into a snarl. "Do you think I will go quietly?" His voice rang out, venom dripping from every word. "Do you think this is how it ends?"
Lilithe's eyes narrowed. "Your time is over, Cedric. The court has seen your betrayal, and there is no escaping it."
A malicious grin spread across Cedric's face, his true nature—one long hidden behind the mask of nobility—now fully revealed. "You arrogant child. You always thought yourself so clever, so invincible, sitting on that throne. But you have no idea what true power looks like."
He raised his hand high, his voice booming through the Throne Room. "Soldiers! Seize the throne! Kill anyone who stands in your way!"
The command was met with a moment of shocked silence. Then, chaos erupted.
Several soldiers, who had been stationed discreetly throughout the room, responded immediately to Cedric's call. Drawing their weapons, they surged forward, their eyes alight with loyalty to the Duke. In an instant, the atmosphere of the court transformed from tense anticipation to violent mayhem. The courtiers screamed, some attempting to flee while others froze in place, unsure of what to do.
Lilithe's wolves bared their teeth, snarling as they moved into defensive positions around her, ready to attack at the slightest provocation.
Rogue was the first to react. Without hesitation, he drew his sword, moving swiftly between Cedric and the nearest group of soldiers. "Protect the Queen!" he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. Mephisto and Sting followed his lead, their swords flashing in the torchlight as they took defensive stances in front of Lilithe, who remained seated, her expression hard as steel.
Cedric's soldiers charged, their swords drawn as they made a direct line for Lilithe. But Rogue, Sting, and Mephisto were ready. Rogue's blade clashed with the first attacker, deflecting the blow with practiced ease. Mephisto moved like a shadow, his sword dancing through the air as he cut down another soldier who dared approach the Queen.
Bastien, stationed near the entrance, quickly rallied the few loyal guards who had been on duty. "Protect the courtiers!" he shouted, his voice booming over the panicked cries of the nobles. He and the guards moved swiftly, forming a protective line between the soldiers and the terrified court. Bastien swung his sword with deadly precision, cutting down one of Cedric's men who had broken through the line.
The courtiers were in a frenzy, scrambling to find safety as the sounds of steel clashing echoed through the room. Cedric, standing amidst the chaos he had unleashed, looked mad with power, his eyes wild as he watched his soldiers fight.
"You think you can best me, Lilithe?" Cedric snarled, his voice rising above the din. "I've waited too long for this moment. I will take what is rightfully mine!"
"Then stop hiding behind your men." Her eyes glinted dangerously, "We shall dual."
Nobody knew it but Lilithe had planned for this. She had wanted this one on one duel with her Uncle, as not only would it prove to all those who witnessed that she was the one meant to wear the crown but to ensure he paid for what he did to her parents, especially her Mother.
The court gasped, a wave of shock rippling through the room as Lilithe's challenge echoed off the marble walls. The flickering torchlight reflected in her eyes, casting her in a fearsome glow as she stood, tall and defiant. Her wolves growled low at her feet, sensing the rising tension, while the courtiers murmured in disbelief.
Cedric's face contorted with a mix of surprise and anger. For a moment, he seemed caught off guard, but it didn't take long for his expression to shift into something far more sinister. He straightened, looking Lilithe up and down, as if appraising her. His lips twisted into a sneer.
"A duel?" Cedric scoffed. "You, a mere girl, think you can stand against me in combat?" He gestured grandly to the court, mockery dripping from every word. "Is this what your Queen has come to? Petty challenges, a spectacle for the masses?"
But Lilithe did not flinch. Her voice was calm, even, but underlined with cold steel. "You taught me how to wield a blade, Uncle. It's time to see if I learned those lessons well. No magic. Just steel. One-on-one. We fight for the crown."
The room fell deathly silent. Cedric's soldiers, already unnerved by the swift defeat of their comrades, exchanged wary glances. The courtiers, stunned by the turn of events, could only stare in disbelief. This was not the political intrigue they had anticipated. This was something far more primal.
Cedric's gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're a fool, Lilithe. I will enjoy watching you bleed as I did my brother."
Lilithe's eyes glinted dangerously as she stepped forward, her wolves moving aside as if they knew this was her battle alone. "You've spent years hiding behind lies and manipulation, Uncle. You stole everything from me—my parents, my childhood, my crown." She paused, her voice lowering into a growl. "But I'll take it back with my own hands."
Rogue, standing nearby, tensed. His eyes flickered between Lilithe and Cedric, ready to intervene if things got out of hand. Mephisto and Sting exchanged wary glances, understanding the stakes. This was not just about a throne.
This was personal.
Cedric's sneer faded, replaced with a grim determination. He threw off his outer cloak, revealing the finely tailored armor beneath, a reminder of his long military career. Despite his age, he was still a formidable opponent, and his reputation as a swordsman was well-known. He had held the title of Protector of the Realm for decades until Mephisto had inherited it and even then, he hadn't allowed courtly indulgences to ruin his combat prowess.
Lilithe's heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her breathing steady, her gaze never wavering from Cedric. She had planned for this, had trained relentlessly for this moment. She wanted Cedric to face her on equal footing, without the shield of his men, without the tricks of magic. She wanted him to feel every ounce of the fury that had simmered inside her for years.
He withdrew his own sword. She had came prepared, as she brought her Father's sword.. The blades gleamed wickedly in the sunlight.
Lilithe knew what this duel meant—not just for her, but for the entire kingdom. The courtiers needed to see her strength, to witness her victory firsthand. If she defeated Cedric in combat, there would be no question that she was the rightful ruler. More than that, she needed Cedric to suffer for what he had done to her family.
As they took their places in the center of the room, a wide circle formed around them. The courtiers moved back, some nervously whispering amongst themselves, while others watched with bated breath.
Cedric gave her a twisted smile. "Are you ready to die, niece?"
Lilithe tightened her grip on her sword. "I'm ready to end this."
The duel began in a blur of movement. Cedric was quick—quicker than she had anticipated. He swung his sword in a wide arc, aiming for her side, but Lilithe was faster. She dodged, her blade flashing as she parried his next strike, the sound of steel ringing through the room.
For a moment, it seemed as though Cedric had the upper hand. His strikes were powerful, calculated, designed to overwhelm her. But Lilithe had trained for this—trained for years in sword combat should the need arise. She fought with precision, deflecting his blows, her movements fluid and deadly.
The courtiers watched in stunned silence as the two clashed, their swords moving faster than the eye could follow. Sparks flew as their blades met again and again, the force of each strike reverberating through the room.
Cedric's frustration grew as he realized Lilithe was not the inexperienced girl he had expected. She fought like a seasoned warrior, each of her moves deliberate, her eyes cold and focused. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, his strikes becoming more erratic as he tried to gain the upper hand.
"You've trained well," Cedric growled between strikes. "But you'll never be strong enough to defeat me."
Lilithe didn't respond, her eyes narrowing as she parried another blow. She spun, her blade slicing through the air as she aimed for his shoulder. Cedric barely deflected the strike, stumbling back slightly. His breathing was labored now, his movements less fluid.
"You killed my mother," Lilithe hissed, her voice low and filled with venom. "You murdered her in cold blood."
Cedric's eyes flashed with a hint of panic, but he quickly masked it with a sneer. "She was weak. Just like you."
Lilithe's fury boiled over. With a fierce cry, she launched herself at him, her sword moving with a deadly precision. Cedric struggled to keep up, his defenses crumbling under the weight of her attack.
With a final, devastating blow, Lilithe's sword struck true, slashing across Cedric's chest. He stumbled back, gasping for breath, blood staining his tunic as he fell to his knees.
The room fell silent once more. Cedric knelt before her, defeated, his face twisted in agony and disbelief.
Lilithe stood over him, her sword pointed at his throat. "For my mother," she whispered.
Lilithe's chest rose and fell as the silence stretched, the weight of the moment pressing down on the room. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out the world around her. The scent of blood hung thick in the air, the metallic tang filling her lungs as she stood over her uncle's crumpled form. Cedric's once-proud figure now knelt at her feet, a pitiful sight of blood and broken ambition. His eyes, wide with fear and disbelief, begged her silently.
"Mercy," he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation.
Lilithe's hand tightened around the hilt of her sword, her knuckles white with fury. The memories of her mother's death—of her parents' betrayal, of the years she had spent trapped in her uncle's manipulative grasp unknowingly—burned through her mind like wildfire. Her vision blurred with a haze of red. Cedric's plea, once enough to manipulate and control, now fell on deaf ears.
"You deserve none," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. "I may be wielding this blade, but it is my Father that will have his revenge."
Without hesitation, without remorse, she swung her blade. The sharp whistle of the sword cutting through the air was the only sound before it met flesh, severing her uncle's head from his body in one clean, final stroke. Blood sprayed across the room, splattering onto her silvery blue and opalescent gown, the once ethereal fabric now stained with the crimson reminder of her vengeance. The head rolled with a sickening thud, coming to rest at the foot of her throne.
Gasps and cries erupted from the crowd as they watched in stunned horror, the weight of what they had just witnessed sinking in. Courtiers recoiled, some shrinking away in terror, while others stood frozen in shock. Lilithe's once-loyal nobles stared, unable to comprehend the cold, calculating woman that now stood before them.
For a brief moment, Lilithe felt the darkness swirl around her like an old friend, curling its fingers around her heart and urging her to let go. Her lips curled into a twisted smile as she bent down, grasping Cedric's head by his hair. His lifeless eyes stared vacantly into nothingness, his face twisted in an expression of pure terror. She straightened, lifting the severed head for all to see, the court falling deathly silent as she ascended the steps to her throne.
Each step felt deliberate, calculated, as though the darkness was guiding her forward. Lilithe turned at the top of the stairs, facing her people—her courtiers, her allies, her enemies. Her heart, once so filled with uncertainty, was now a cold, hardened shell. The years of manipulation, the betrayal, the pain—all of it had led her to this moment.
"This," she began, her voice ringing through the hall like the crack of thunder, "is what happens when you betray the crown. When you betray me." Her eyes, sharp and gleaming with a dangerous intensity, swept over the room, daring anyone to challenge her. "Cedric thought he could rule through fear, through deceit, and treachery. He thought himself untouchable. But I am the rightful ruler, and I will not tolerate disloyalty."
The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, suffocating the tension and fear that now rippled through the court. Her gaze was piercing, unrelenting, as she addressed them all—nobles, soldiers, courtiers, allies. No one was spared from her cold, calculating scrutiny.
"I want you all to remember this moment," Lilithe continued, her voice lowering into a dangerous growl. "Let it serve as a warning. Any who dare to stand against me, to betray my people, will face the same fate. I will personally see to it that every traitor in my court is executed. I will not hesitate. I will not forgive."
The room remained eerily silent, the courtiers exchanging nervous glances, many trembling in fear. Even those closest to her, her allies and friends, looked uncertain. For the first time, they glimpsed the depths of her resolve—the darkness that had been brewing inside her all along.
Rogue, standing in the shadows beside the throne, felt his heart clench. He knew Lilithe's rage was justified, but he also saw the danger in allowing that darkness to consume her. Mephisto, Sting, and Bastien exchanged uneasy looks, recognizing the shift in her demeanor. They had all known that Lilithe was capable of great strength, but this—this was something else entirely.
This was vengeance, untempered and brutal.
Lilithe held Cedric's head high, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. "For too long, this court has been poisoned by corruption. But that ends today. I will purge this rot from my kingdom, and I will do so without hesitation."
She tossed Cedric's head to the ground, where it landed with a sickening thud beside his lifeless body. The sound reverberated through the hall, the final punctuation to her declaration of dominance.
For a long moment, no one dared move, no one dared speak. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, and the courtiers' fear was palpable. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the faint, distant rustle of armor as her loyal guards stood ready, awaiting her next command.
Lilithe took her seat on the throne, her bloodied gown pooling around her feet, her hand still resting on the hilt of her sword. She felt the darkness inside her recede slightly, though it still lingered, waiting for another moment to strike.
"I am your Queen," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "And none shall stand against me."
Her wolves howled in the distance, as though echoing her sentiment. The court, trembling and subdued, bowed their heads in submission, fully understanding that Lilithe was not someone to be trifled with.
Just as the darkness began to recede, Lilith blinked it away as she watched everyone bend the knee to her without hesitation. Growing shy once more, she cleared her throat.
"I invite you all to celebrate and stay for tonight's ball," Lilithe said with a smile that barely reached her eyes.
The reaction from the courtiers was immediate. Murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd, their expressions brightening as if nothing significant had just transpired. It was almost surreal, the ease with which they shifted from witnessing a brutal execution to eagerly anticipating an evening of revelry. But Lilithe was not surprised. She had seen this before—their detachment, their casual indifference.
They had behaved the same way when Lady Morgana had been murdered in their midst, her blood still fresh on the floor as they discussed fashion and alliances over wine. No one had mourned her, no one had shown any real sign of being affected by her brutal death. It was as if death itself had become just another part of court life—something to be endured and quickly forgotten in favor of the next distraction.
So now, as they buzzed with excitement over a ball mere moments after she had executed her uncle, Lilithe wasn't surprised.
Disgusted, yes.
But not surprised.
To them, Cedric's death was nothing more than a spectacle, an event to gossip about over drinks. The crown remained stable, and that's all they cared about.
With her crown stable, she lifted the bounties on all of their heads and with Mephisto back as Captain of the guard, he took to immediately weeding out the men that were loyal to his Father, Bastien had gone back to flirting with maids and drinking his fill. Lucy and Sting were enjoying themselves while Lilithe went to her rooms with Rogue following.
She hadn't spoken.
Not since she killed her Uncle.
Rogue was worried about her.
He had spotted the darkness in her, saw it glitter when she executed Cedric and made a show of it. He had understood her actions, and understood that she took some satisfaction in the fact that he had been responsible for her grandfather's death, her parents death, and the assault and near death of her.
Rogue didn't care that she killed her Uncle. He had killed people before as well, it came with the occupation of being a wizard.
However, this must be her first time killing someone else. He desired to comfort her. To take care of her.
Once they entered her chambers, he immediately moved to her bathroom. Moving to the large porcelain tub, he turned on the hot water, using rose and lavender scented oils.
He turned to find her standing in the doorway, there was confusion and exhaustion in her eyes. Taking her hand, he used his shadows to close the door behind her. The soft scent filled the air as the steam rose.
Rogue returned to her side, his movements gentle as he approached. "Lilithe," he murmured softly. "Let me take care of you."
She stood still as Rogue's hands reached for her shoulders, his fingers carefully untying the fastenings of her dress. He moved with deliberate care, peeling the bloodstained fabric from her body as if he were handling something fragile. The once beautiful gown fell in a heap at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but her undergarments.
Rogue rose, his hands reaching for the clasps of her corset. He worked with precision, loosening the ties until the constricting garment slid off her body, revealing her bare skin. He paused for a moment, his hands brushing against her sides, offering silent comfort in his touch.
There was no urgency, no rush.
With gentle guidance, Rogue helped Lilithe to her feet, leading her to the bath. The warmth of the water greeted her like an embrace, slowly melting the tension from her body as she sank into the tub. Lilithe let out a small sigh, the weight on her shoulders seemingly dissolving with each passing moment. Rogue knelt beside her, dipping a cloth into the water. With careful strokes, he began to wash away the blood, the cloth gliding over her arms and shoulders, removing the last physical remnants of the day.
For a moment, there was only silence, the quiet sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub. Then, Lilithe spoke, her voice soft but steady. "I am okay," she said, turning her eyes to meet Rogue's. There was no uncertainty in her gaze, only calm. "I'm just worried that my actions will have a negative effect on my people."
Rogue paused, his eyes searching hers, expecting to see the familiar strain, the turmoil that had plagued her for so long. But instead, he found something unexpected—peace. She didn't seem shaken by what had transpired, not by the blood she had spilled, nor by the brutal end she had delivered to Cedric.
He should have known that death wouldn't phase her. Not after everything she had been through.
"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm, needing to know for certain.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she nodded. "Yes, now that I know my parents' killer is dead, I feel more at ease. More at peace than I have in years."
Rogue stared at her, hard and intense, trying to find a trace of lingering doubt, of fear or remorse. But there was none. Lilithe leaned back into the tub, her posture relaxed, her expression serene. She did look at peace—more at ease than he had ever seen her, even in the fleeting glimpses of her memories. The tension that had always been present, the edge of grief and fury, had been replaced with something calm, something settled.
"You've been carrying this for so long," Rogue murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "but now… you're free."
Lilithe closed her eyes, sinking further into the warm water, the smile still lingering on her lips. "Yes, I am. For the first time, I feel truly free."
And as Rogue watched her, he knew she meant it. This wasn't a mask, not a shield she had put up for others to see. This was her truth. She had faced her past, avenged her parents, and emerged stronger—whole, even.
Now that their mission was complete, Lilithe extended an invitation for the group to stay a few extra days in her kingdom before heading back to their guild. She wanted them to relax, enjoy the sights, and try the native foods her land had to offer. It was a generous part of their reward—one that Sting eagerly accepted, especially since Rogue seemed keen on staying a bit longer with Lilithe.
Lucy found herself wandering through the palace gardens, admiring the beauty of the flowers and the serene atmosphere. But her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't help but wonder how Rogue and Lilithe's relationship would work out in the long term. Lilithe was a queen—bound to her kingdom and her duties. She wasn't just any woman who could pick up and move across the continent. Would Rogue stay here with her? Would he give up his life as a guild wizard to be by Lilithe's side?
The thought lingered as Lucy sat on a bench, watching the soft sway of the trees in the breeze. Maybe Rogue would leave the guild for her, she mused. It wouldn't be a surprise. His connection with Lilithe ran deep, and he had clearly chosen her above all else. Still, Lucy felt a pang of uncertainty for him, knowing how much the guild meant to him as well.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. She looked up to see Sting standing in the doorway of the open balcony that led from her room into the garden. He had his arms crossed, leaning casually against the doorframe, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice warm and curious.
Lucy blinked, pulling herself from her thoughts. "How Rogue and Lilithe are going to make their relationship work," she replied, smiling softly.
Sting stepped closer, joining her at the balcony, gazing out over the kingdom. "He's already asked me about it," he said, his voice thoughtful. "He didn't ask to leave the guild, but I can see it in him. He's torn."
Lucy looked up at him, curious. "What do you mean?"
Sting hummed, leaning against the balcony rail. "He told me he'd accept any mission that sends him here, to Valentine. He didn't outright say he wants to leave the guild, but I worry that it's in the back of his mind. He loves Lilithe, and you can't really blame him for wanting to stay close to her as she is his mate."
Lucy nodded, her gaze distant. "It makes sense. I just… I hope he doesn't lose a part of himself. The guild is such a big part of who he is."
"Yeah, but people change," Sting said, turning to face her. "Rogue has found something that every dragonslayer strives to find for himself. It's not like we're losing him."
Lucy smiled at that, a warmth settling in her chest. "I suppose you're right. It's just… hard to imagine things changing so much."
Sting chuckled softly. "Change is a part of life, Lucy. We've all grown a lot since we first met."
She looked up at him, her smile softening. "You've changed a lot too."
He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Is that so?"
Lucy laughed, giving him a playful shove. "Don't act so smug! But really, you have. You're not just the arrogant jerk who was intent on destroying my guild."
Sting winced, chuckling. "Yeah, I wasn't exactly subtle back then, was I?"
"Not at all," Lucy said, her tone teasing. "But maybe, just maybe, you've turned into someone… a little more likable."
"Only a little?" he shot back, eyes glinting with that familiar playfulness.
Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the weight of the moment settling between them. Lucy's mind wandered back to Rogue and Lilithe for a moment, but this time, she felt calm. Sting was right. They had all changed. In fact, she'd never imagined herself joining Sabertooth, but here she was.
Suddenly, it all felt right—like everything had led her to this moment. She glanced up at Sting, his presence steady and comforting in a way she hadn't fully appreciated until now.
"I've made plans for us," Lucy said, her smile brightening. "From what I remember of my own time here in Valentine. There are so many places we have to see, and some amazing food spots I can't wait for us to try."
Sting looked down at her, his expression softening as his hand found hers. "I'll always follow your lead, Lucy."
His words sent a shiver through her, the intensity in his gaze unmistakable. It was a look she'd seen before, but hadn't quite recognized for what it was. Now, standing there with him, it hit her fully.
There was a warmth between them, something that had been building slowly over time, unspoken but always present. Lucy's breath caught in her throat as she met Sting's eyes, her heart racing in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
Before she could second-guess herself, Sting leaned in, his face inches from hers. There was a brief moment of hesitation, a silent question in his eyes, and then, without a word, Lucy closed the gap. Their lips met, soft and slow at first, but quickly deepening as the tension between them unraveled in that single moment.
It felt like everything clicked into place—the months of shared experiences, the battles they'd fought together, the laughter, the teasing—it all led to this. The kiss was tender, but it was also filled with something much deeper, something that had been waiting beneath the surface.
When they finally pulled apart, Lucy's cheeks were flushed, her heart still pounding in her chest. Sting looked down at her, a slow, crooked grin spreading across his face.
"About time," he murmured, his voice low.
Lucy let out a soft laugh, her forehead resting against his. "Yeah… about time."
For the first time in a long while, everything felt perfect. And in that moment, she realized just how much she had fallen for him.