feppydoodles

[feppydoodles]

Where the Moon Meets the Deep: LaDS FanFic

CHAPTER 4

It had been two weeks since the Lemurian’s arrival. Two weeks since he had been dragged, battered and seething, into her throne room like some gruesome gift.

The last two weeks had blurred into a near constant flurry of diplomatic meetings, winter harvest reports, and court requests. Moonhaven was restless in the wake of her father’s passing, and the crown sat heavy even as it glinted.

She rounded the corner of the final stair and stopped short.

Xavier was posted outside the Lemurian’s door.

But unlike his usual stone-faced presence, his shoulders were slightly slumped, eyes narrowed in a valiant (but losing) battle with sleep. He straightened as soon as he sensed her presence, sharp as always, but the gesture couldn’t hide the faint redness in his eyes.

“Your Highness,” he said, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“Isn’t this Jeremiah’s post?” she asked, lifting a brow as she stepped closer. “You’ve taken on another shift?”

“Jeremiah’s brother took ill,” he said simply. “It was short notice.”

She gave him a look, unimpressed.

“You’re going to impale yourself on your own sword one of these nights,” she muttered, shaking her head. “And no one will even find you until morning.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his tired features. It was small, barely there, but genuine nonetheless.

“I’ll try to fall dramatically in a busier hallway for easier discovery.”

Eris scoffed quietly and glanced at the closed door behind him. “Has he caused any trouble?”

“No. Not since the first week. He still doesn’t speak to the guards. The maids say he eats in silence. Stares out the window for hours. That’s… about it.”

She nodded once, crossing her arms against the chill in the hallway. A beat of silence stretched between them.

“And you?” he asked.

She blinked. “What?”

“Have you been sleeping in a bed, or just collapsing on paperwork now?”

It was dryly said, but his eyes were keen. Gentle in their own way.

Eris allowed herself a rare smile, brief as a passing wind. “If I told you I only blink when necessary, would you report it to the Queen?”

“I might consider alerting the maids to prepare a bedroll beneath your desk.”

“That’s very generous of you, Captain,” she said, tone matching his. “I suppose I’ll have to keep functioning out of sheer spite now.”

His mouth quirked slightly, then he shifted, straightening again. “Would you like me to announce you?”

She hesitated, eyes drifting toward the door. The idea of seeing the Lemurian again stirred something low in her chest. Something unreadable, uncertain. But she shook her head.

“No need. I’m not staying long.”

He nodded, stepping aside with the same quiet respect he always showed her, and Eris brushed past him, fingers grazing the curve of the worn doorknob.

Behind her, Xavier said nothing more. But she could feel his familiar and still presence as she opened the door and slipped inside.

Inside, the chamber was dim. The fire in the hearth had faded to embers, leaving only a low orange glow licking at the shadows. The moonlight, strong and piercing, spilled across the floor in long, solemn beams.

The Lemurian sat by the window, his long legs tucked beneath him, barefoot. He hadn’t stirred at the sound of the door.

Eris stepped further in, the soft fabric of her gown whispering behind her. She let the door close with a muted click.

“…Good evening,” she said quietly.

No answer. Not even a shift in his shoulders.

Her voice tightened just slightly. “You’ve been here for two weeks and i’ve been told you haven’t left your chambers.”

He didn’t turn, but his chin tilted, a quiet, lazy acknowledgment. “Why would I?” he asked dryly. “The view is the best thing this tower offers.”

“You are allowed to walk the East Wing,” she said, folding her arms.

“I remember.” His voice was low, measured. “You’ve told me before.”

Eris resisted the urge to sigh. She pressed her lips together, considering him for a moment in the quiet. He was still staring out the window at the moonlit peaks and the endless darkness curling between them. It made something twist in her chest, but she refused to let it reach her face.

“The guards have reported your… cooperation,” she continued. “The maids say you speak to them, at least. That’s a start.”

Finally, he turned his head just slightly. Those luminous, flame lit eyes landed on her. Calm. Assessing.

“You came all this way for a progress report?”

“No,” she hesitated. “I came to offer something.”

That earned the faintest arch of a brow, but nothing more.

Eris’s hands remained at her sides, fingers twitching once. Then she nodded—barely a tilt of her chin toward the door.

“You’re not a prisoner,” she said carefully. “Let me show you the East Wing.”

He stared at her, quiet.

“You’re free to join me,” she added, holding her posture with practiced grace. “Or not.”

She stood silhouetted in the doorway, spine straight, jaw set. Her expression was neutral. So carefully curated Rafayel might’ve mistaken it for true disinterest if he hadn’t already seen the subtle things: the brief pause, the way her fingers tensed at her sides. The inhale just before she spoke to him.

She hadn’t returned since their last exchange but he’d heard her name whispered often enough through the crack under the door. Eris of Moonhaven. Crowned daughter. Future queen. A title that gleamed, burnished and distant, like something cut from crystal. But the woman herself was flesh. Fallible. And more interesting because of it.

He studied her now, letting his gaze linger in silence. There was something about her presence that unsettled him. Not in the way that threatened, but in the way that gnawed. She was too composed, too practiced. Yet her eyes gave her away. Always the eyes. She was nervous.

Good.

She had gestured with a small nod toward the door, a silent invitation. No demand. No command. Just a quiet suggestion. If it were anyone else, he might have scoffed. But he was getting tired of this room. The stillness, the choking silence, the way Moonhaven’s stone walls pressed in like they were always watching.

And he was curious. About her. About why she came now, alone. About the thoughts behind that unreadable face.

So, without a word, he rose.

The rug muted the sound of his steps as he approached her. He moved slowly, deliberately, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t retreat. But the slight shift in her breath—just once—betrayed her.

Interesting.

He said nothing as she opened the door.

The hall outside was quiet, dimly lit by flickering sconces. A familiar tension snapped into place as Rafayel’s gaze met the man stationed beside the door.

The Captain of the Guard.

Still here. Still watching her like a wolf with a tether too short.

The man’s spine straightened as they stepped into the corridor. His blue eyes darted to Rafayel, and that flicker of recognition in them ignited something cold. They stared at each other in silence, the memory of that first encounter pulsing between them like a scar not yet healed.

Rafayel remembered the tone of his voice. The way he’d stepped between them without hesitation. It had been reflexive, protective, presumptuous.

He hated him.

Not just for the sword, or the way he looked at Eris like she was made of glass, but for something deeper. Something instinctive. Like prey recognizing a predator.

Rafayel lingered on the man’s expression, let it stew, then followed Eris without a glance back.

He felt Xavier’s presence fall into step behind them, a silent shadow radiating suspicion.

The hallways of the East Wing were wide and regal, framed by ancient tapestries and quiet marble arches. Every inch of it had been polished to a gleam, history built into the walls. The sconces lit the corridor with a soft, flickering glow, but to Rafayel it all felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. Like the bones of a dead kingdom dressed up in velvet and moonlight.

No waves. No tide. No life.

They walked in silence for several moments, the only sound the faint rustle of Eris’s gown and the occasional creak of the floor beneath his bare feet.

“I still don’t know your name,” she said eventually, her voice a gentle ripple in the quiet.

He glanced at her sidelong. She wasn’t looking at him—only forward, eyes fixed on the path ahead. Her tone was level, as if she were merely stating a fact. But there was curiosity there too. Subtle. Controlled.

He tilted his head, lips twitching into a dry, humorless smile.

“Most don’t ask,” he said, the words sliding slow and smooth off his tongue, still touched by the saltwater cadence of his accent. “They prefer something simpler. ‘The Lemurian’ typically suffices.”

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t bite. “Convenience is not the same as correctness.”

That surprised him. He narrowed his eyes slightly.

Rafayel studied her for a moment longer. Not just her gown or the way her crown sat like it belonged there, but the small signs like the deliberate breath before she spoke, the way she kept her hands clasped as though containing something wild. She wasn’t the soft noble girl he’d expected. And that irritated him, almost as much as it intrigued him.

“…Rafayel,” he said finally. Flat. Unemotional. Like tossing her a bone just to end the conversation.

Her lips parted slightly as she repeated it. The syllables were foreign on her tongue, pronounced with careful precision. Not perfect, but not mockery either.

He didn’t correct her.

She gave a small nod, then turned her gaze forward again.

He followed.

Behind them, Xavier’s boots echoed in measured steps.

And though Rafayel didn’t turn to look, he could feel the man’s eyes burning holes between his shoulder blades.

[feppydoodles]

Where the Moon Meets the Deep: LaDS FanFic

CHAPTER 3

He waited until the sound of her boots faded down the stone corridor. Only then did Rafayel breathe.

It wasn’t relief.

It was rage. Measured, simmering, and deadly.

She had stood there, silver-eyed and cloaked in velvet and authority asking if his accommodations were acceptable, as if he were some wayward noble, not a prize ripped from the sea and paraded before her like a dog. She had said nothing of his wounds. No apology for the chains, the bruises, the days he had spent gagged or struck for refusing to kneel.

Just that cold, composed mask of hers.

He hated her for it.

And, Tides help him, he was intrigued.

He turned from the door, jaw tight, pacing the perimeter of the chamber like a caged animal. The room was elegant, too much so with deep blue rugs underfoot, gauzy curtains moving like whispers, silver sconces casting a warm, gentle glow that only made the cold in his chest burn colder. His new clothes were rich and tailored in Moonhaven’s style: thick embroidered tunics, dark fitted trousers, silver clasps and stitching that caught the light.

It felt like an insult, dressing him in the image of his captors. He’d almost torn it off the moment the servants left.

But his pride was all he had now, and he refused to let them see him bleed again.

He moved to the narrow window, bracing his palms against the icy frame. The view was as vast and merciless as the journey that had brought him here: white mountains under an endless curtain of dusk. Moonhaven’s skies were forever cloaked in night, their light borrowed from a distant moon that hung full and sharp, casting silver across the peaks.

He had never known cold like this.

The journey from the coast had taken weeks. Perhaps months. Time blurred when your wrists were raw from rope, when every morning began with a boot to the ribs and every night ended in shackles. The Pearlspire guards had dragged him through snowstorms, through forests bare of life, across ravines bridged only by wind and ice.

He had made them pay for every step.

He still remembered the first time he bit one of them. He ripped his teeth into the wrist of a soldier who tried to gag him too tight. He’d been struck across the face for it, but not before blood splattered the snow.

They’d beaten him harder after that. Rougher. More frightened.

Good. They should be.

Even now, Rafayel could feel the dull throb in his cheekbone where the last of them had landed a blow before they handed him off. His wrists were red and raw, still bearing the shape of the manacles they’d used for the final stretch.

And then… the throne room.

The princess.

Her eyes on him like moonlight on deep water. Cold, luminous, and just barely curious.

He didn’t know what he’d expected. Not her. Not someone who didn’t flinch at his stare, who didn’t look away when he bared his teeth. She hadn’t treated him like a beast. She hadn’t treated him like a man either.

And that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

She was different from the others. Not kind. Not cruel.

Controlled.

And that control… Something about it made him want to shatter it. Break it wide open just to see what was underneath.

A quiet knock broke through his thoughts.

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to. Whoever it was didn’t try again.

He turned back to the room, the fire in the hearth crackling too gently for his mood. His entire body ached from the journey, from the bruises, the cold, the hunger he could never quite satisfy.

But worse than all of it was the stillness now.

The silence.

Because here, in this lavish cage dressed as a guest suite, he was no longer moving. No longer fighting. No longer sure who his enemies were—or if the woman with silver eyes and a voice like frost would be the one to destroy him… or save him.

[feppydoodles]

Where the Moon Meets the Deep: LaDS Fanfic

CHAPTER 2:

The fire in Eris’ study had long since dimmed to embers, but the papers before her remained untouched.

Reports of border disputes. Winter rations. A new trade proposal from one of the lesser mountain provinces. She had tried. By the Stars, she had tried to read them. To focus. To breathe like she was expected to. But the words blurred and scattered like ash in wind.

Because she could still see him.

That bruised cheek. That bloody lip. Those piercing eyes. Knowing and cruel in their fury.

She shoved back from her desk.

_____________

The East Tower had always stood slightly apart from the rest of Moonhaven—secluded, quieter, meant for scholars and solitude. But it was not neglected.

The hallway leading to its guest chambers was dressed in deep blue rugs, woven through with silver thread like constellations underfoot. The sconces lining the walls glowed with soft golden light, pushing back the winter chill with a steady warmth. Gauzy curtains framed narrow windows, the sheer fabric catching moonlight like frost on glass. The air was perfumed faintly with lavender and smoke

She stopped before the tall arched door, gloved fingers flexing at her sides. Her breath was even, measured but her heart betrayed her, thudding against her ribs like it was trapped.

The guards stationed outside shifted at her arrival.

“Princess,” one murmured with a bow. “He’s remained inside since your orders. Bathed. Dressed. Wounds tended. No trouble, aside from the silence.”

Eris’s gaze flicked to the door.

“And the food?”

“Untouched,” the second guard said. “He hasn’t spoken a word.”

She nodded once.

They both hesitated. Then the taller one spoke again, more firmly. “Princess, forgive me, but we must advise against entry. He is—”

“Not human. Yes, I gathered that,” she cut in coolly.

A pause.

“Dangerous, is what I meant.”

Eris exhaled slowly, jaw tight. Her hand hovered near the doorknob.

“I gave an order to have him treated like a guest,” she said, “not caged like an animal. I intend to honor that.”

“Still, Princess—”

“You may wait at the base of the stairs,” she said, her voice low but resolute. “I’ll call if I need anything.”

The guards exchanged a look. Then, reluctantly, they obeyed, descending with hesitant steps that left her alone in the corridor.

She faced the heavy door.

Her fingers trembled, just slightly, as they curled around the iron handle. Her heart was beating too loudly. Each thrum echoed in her ribs like a warning.

The chamber inside was cast in gold and blue. A fire crackled low in the hearth, its warmth threading through the silk drapes and velvet furniture. The four poster bed was massive. Deep blue linens embroidered with lunar patterns were cocooned by gauzy curtains. They swayed gently from the frost bitten air blowing through a cracked window. A carved table stood near the window, still bearing the untouched tray of food and wine.

And standing just beside that, half in shadow, was him.

The Lemurian.

He was no longer the bloodied creature she’d met in the throne room.

He had been cleaned, dressed in finery tailored in Moonhaven’s image. Midnight blues and pale silvers adorned his tall form. His coat was lined with velvet and fastened at the waist by a delicate sash. The fabric shimmered faintly in the firelight, clearly the work of her court’s finest tailors.

But nothing about him looked at home in it.

His vibrant presence chafed against the fabric. His hair was still damp and falling in jagged violet strands around his cheekbones, those strange, shifting eyes burning with an unrepentant defiance. His mouth, split at the corner, curled in something that was neither smile nor snarl.

He looked like a storm forced into a bottle.

They stared at each other.

Then, finally, he spoke, voice low, mocking.

“Do your kind always dress their pets in silk?”

Eris didn’t react. She stepped inside the room, letting the door close softly behind her.

“I wanted to ensure you weren’t mistreated,” she said simply. “Though perhaps the court overcompensated.”

His eyes flicked down to the drape of his sleeves, then back to her with a sneer. “If they hoped to humiliate me, they succeeded.”

She crossed the room with careful poise, her boots silent against the rugs.

“I was told you refused the meal.”

“I don’t eat scraps fed to me in cages.”

“You’re not in a cage.”

“Ah,” he said, voice sharp as cut glass. “So this is freedom, then. What a mercy.”

She exhaled through her nose, slow and even. “If you prefer less opulence, I can arrange that.”

“You mistake disdain for gratitude,” he said. “These walls are prettier than the shackles, but they serve the same purpose.”

Her gaze didn’t falter. “You were beaten. I’ve seen the damage. Whatever you believe, I did not order it.”

“Yet you let me be delivered like a crate of wine,” he said, stepping forward just enough to close the distance between them. He smelled of rose oil that barely masked the scent of salt clinging to his skin. “Unwrapped and displayed for your birthday spectacle.”

His nearness was electric. And intentional.

Eris kept her chin high.

“You were a gift from Pearlspire,” she said matter-of-factly. “Not of my choosing. But rejecting their offering would have strained diplomacy, and cost lives. I chose pragmatism.”

His lip curled.

“And now what? You’ll polish me up, teach me tricks, parade me for your nobles until I forget the salt in my blood?”

“No,” she said. “I’ll decide what you’re worth after I speak with you myself.”

Something flickered in his expression.

That gave him pause.

For the first time, his gaze swept over her with something colder… Calculation, rather than rage.

“You’re bold for a princess,” he murmured.

“And you’re still breathing for a prisoner,” she replied. “So perhaps we’re both lucky tonight.”

He let out a low breath, a humorless sound.

Then he stepped back, retreating into the shadows of the firelight once more.

“Then speak, moon princess,” he said. “See what answers you can pry loose from the jaws of a tide that wants nothing from you.”

She didn’t speak.

Not yet.

Because for all his fury, all his fire—there was something beneath it. A deep, anchored pain. And pride. So much pride it practically glowed.

She let the silence stretch between them like a wire pulled tight.

Then, with no farewell, no apology, she turned to leave.

At the door, she paused. Her voice came soft, regal, unreadable.

“If you want the food, it’ll be waiting. If not, it’ll be replaced. You will not starve here.”

He said nothing.

She didn’t expect him to

Then she opened the door and stepped back into the warmth of the tower corridor. Her heart still racing deep in her chest.

[feppydoodles]

Where the Moon Meets the Deep: LaDS Fanfic

In the snow shrouded kingdom of Moonhaven, where the moon is worshipped as divine and the royal bloodline draws their power from its light stands Princess Eris Umbra. At 22 she is bound by duty to marry the prince of a coastal ally and preserve a fragile peace between the mountain and sea.

Everything changes the night of her Birthday when Pearlspire sends an unthinkable gift. A Lemurian ripped from the oceans depths. Bruised, defiant and utterly unhuman.

By her side is Xavier, the stoic and calm Captain of the Guard. Her childhood protector and the one man who's never treated her as porcelain. Loyal, composed, and kissed by the stars he is everything Moonhaven honors.

This is my first attempt at a fanfic >.< Its not entirely lore accurate as it takes place in my own high fantasy setting.

CHAPTER ONE:

The moon never left Moonhaven.

It hovered above the jagged spine of the mountains like a guardian, casting silver over snow drenched rooftops and frost laced trees. Moonhaven lived in darkness, the sun a guest who overstayed its welcome for only a few hours each day. It left the kingdom quiet and contemplative, and sometimes, unbearably heavy.

Tonight, as with all nights, the sky was dark. And the moon was full. 

Starlight filtered through the looming cathedral style windows, bathing the marble floors of the throne room in soft silver. Its high arched ceilings etched with lunar glyphs that shimmered faintly with ancient magic. Braziers burned low, casting dancing shadows along the stone floor where nobles lined either side, cloaked in heavy silks and anticipation.

Princess Eris Umbra stood at the top of the dais beside her mother, Queen Lenora, a step below the moon-carved throne. Eris wore her lineage like armor: A sweeping gown of obsidian velvet and a fur cloak to shield her pale skin from the harsh cold of Moonhaven. She wore no crown, only a delicate band of crescent silver adorned with moonstone. It rested on her brow, nestled in her loose black hair. She was composed. Beautiful in the way midnight was... Distant and unknowable.

It was her twenty second birthday.

A day of mourning and celebration. The first without her father. The first as the only heir to the Kingdom.

And the day the offering from Pearlspire arrived.

This special day should have marked a quiet passage into adulthood had become something else entirely. A stage upon which politics paraded themselves. Offers of fealty. Thin smiles. Thinner veils of diplomacy. And now, a gift from the sea.

A heavy knock sounded at the tall doors of the hall. The murmurs dulled to breathless silence.

“Presenting the offering from Crown Prince Caelen of Pearlspire,” called a herald, voice cutting through the hush like a blade. “A symbol of enduring alliance and shared future.”

Eris’ smile was thin. Polite and practiced. “The Prince is far too generous.”

The doors groaned open.

He was dragged in like an animal.

Chains bound his wrists and ankles, biting into raw skin. His lip was split and crusted with dried blood. One eye was darkened with a blooming bruise, and his wrists—By the Stars—his wrists were torn and red, as if he’d fought every step of the journey from the coast Pearlspire to the frigid mountains of Moonhaven.

And by the look in his eyes, he’d done just that.

He moved like a caged predator, even restrained. His shoulders coiled, every step was deliberate. His dusty lavender hair clung to his bloodied temple, and beneath the grime, his beauty was disarming, dangerous. Otherworldly. Not just a man, but something older, deeper. Ocean born.

A Lemurian.

The crowd whispered as he passed, drawn to the unnatural aura of his presence. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t lower his head. If anything, he stood taller under their gazes.

Eris felt her breath catch as his gaze rose and locked on hers.

It was seething.

No plea. No fear. Just pure, coiled hatred burning in eyes that shimmered like flame in the deep sea. Blue and pink, alive with fury. Iridescent scales of blue and violet dusted his cheekbones, framing his eyes that were too bright and too sharp.

He was presented before her with ceremonial words, but her pulse thundered too loudly in her ears to hear any of them. 

“This creature was captured off the Sapphire Coast during the Spring Tides,” the herald declared. “A rare find, a Lemurian, long thought myth by many. Prince Caelen offers him as tribute on this sacred day, so that the ocean might honor the moon.”

Eris’ stomach twisted.

Applause rippled through the hall. Performative. Hollow.

She flicked her eyes sideways. Xavier stood just behind the dais, his posture as steady and upright as the blade at his hip. The new Captain of the Guard. He’d been appointed only months ago, but he moved like he’d been standing at her shoulder his entire life. Stoic. Sharp-eyed. Always watching.

His striking blue eyes meeting hers for the briefest moment.

He gave the smallest tilt of his head. Subtle but reassuring nonetheless.

Eris turned back toward the prisoner.

The Lemurian’s breathing was shallow, uneven. But still he stared at her like a challenge, as if daring her to speak. Daring her to command. To flinch. To look away.

She rose slowly from her throne.

“Unshackle him,” she said.

The words crashed into the hall like thunder. The whispers stopped. Even her mother stiffened.

“My lady,” the herald began, appalled, “He is—”

“I said unshackle him.” She repeated this time with more authority.

There was hesitation, glances traded like weapons. But none dared defy her outright.

With grudging motions, one of the guards stepped forward and unhooked the enchanted chains. The metal clinked to the floor, and the Lemurian rolled his raw wrists, gaze never breaking from hers.

“You think I’ll kneel?” he rasped, voice like crushed stone and seawater.

Eris’ lips parted slightly. Not from fear, but from awe.

The nobles stared in scandalized silence, their silks whispering as they leaned closer. Queen Lenora’s face was unreadable beside Eris. 

Eris did not move.

The Lemurian’s eyes, shimmered like a storm caught between pink coral and deep blue, found her. Tracked her. And then, he smiled.

It wasn’t a smile born of charm. No, it was barbed and cunning like a lion with a thorn in its paw daring anyone to try pulling it out.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice sharp with disdain, “does the Moon Princess not speak, or do you only command from a distance?”

Gasps filled the room.

Eris’ spine straightened. She did not respond. Did not let him see the flicker of heat beneath her ribs. He wanted to humiliate her. Wanted her to snap, to slip, to show weakness.

He stepped forward. Just one step. But it was enough.

“Is this what passes for celebration in Moonhaven?” he asked, voice pitched deliberately for the crowd. “A chained beast to parade before your nobles? What an honor, Your Grace. You must feel so powerful.”

Another ripple of shocked murmurs.

Eris inhaled slowly. Measured. Controlled.

Before she could speak, a cold voice cut the tension in two.

“That’s enough.”

Xavier.

He stepped forward from where he stood beside the dais, a silent guard no longer. The captain of the guard moved like frost given shape, silver hair that was kissed by the stars, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes, glacial and steady, fixed on the Lemurian like a blade about to draw.

The Lemurian turned his head, disdain curling his mouth.

“And what are you?” he sneered. “Her sword? Or her shadow?”

“I’m the one who’ll ensure you walk out of this room with your tongue intact,” Xavier replied, voice like steel beneath snow.

That earned a quiet ripple of approval from the court. Xavier was always quiet, but when he spoke, people listened.

The Lemurian laughed, sharp and bitter. “I’ve had worse than empty threats and shackles. Try harder.”

“I don’t need to try,” Xavier said coolly. “You’re already bleeding on the floor.”

The Lemurian’s jaw tensed. His pride flared like open flame.

But Eris had heard enough.

Eris rose from her throne, and silence followed. When she stepped down from the dais, every movement was calculated. Measured. Regal.

She came to a stop a safe distance before the Lemurian. Not out of fear, but because power didn’t need proximity to be felt.

“You are not here by my choice,” she said, her voice crisp as frost. “Let that be the first truth between us.”

The Lemurian’s smile returned, this time thinner. Testing. He said nothing.

Eris went on. “But you are under my roof now. Which means you will be treated as Moonhaven treats all those within its walls. With dignity, whether they deserve it or not.”

She turned to Xavier without looking back. “Captain.”

He straightened. “Your Grace?”

“Have him escorted to the east tower. Keep guards posted at the door, I want him kept within its walls.”

Xavier nodded once.

“Ensure he’s bathed,” she continued. “Fed. And see that his wounds are treated by a healer.”

That drew another murmur from the room.

The Lemurian tilted his head again, wary now. Still seething, but not expecting this.

Eris faced him one last time. Her silver eyes were unreadable. 

“You may hate me. You may hate this kingdom, and every stone of the path that brought you here. That is your right. But you will not make a spectacle of me in my court.”

A pause.

“Do you understand?”

For a long moment, the Lemurian said nothing. Just stared at her, jaw tight, chest rising with shallow, seething breaths. She wasn’t sure if it was defiance or respect that kept him quiet.

Eventually, he gave the faintest incline of his head.

Not a bow.

But not nothing.

Eris stepped away. “Good. Then we understand each other.”

_____________

The great doors shut behind the last departing noble. The room stilled, yet the air remained charged like an unseen current crackling in the silence. 

Where the Lemurian had stood bruised, shackled and seething now lingered only the memory of his eyes, burning like magenta flame.

Eris stood motionless in the heart of the throne room, her spine straight, her hands tight at her sides. Though the show was over, her regal mask remained fixed. Barely.

Only when the last footstep faded did Eris exhale.

She raised a hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if she could rub away the headache clawing its way behind her eyes.

“Stars above,” she muttered. “May the Prince of Pearlspire choke on his own diplomacy.”

A cough of disapproval met her from behind.

Queen Lenora stepped into her periphery, tall and swathed in her ceremonial furs, her expression as smooth and cold as the mountain ice. “You will not speak of your future husband that way,” she said evenly.

Eris let her hand fall. Her gaze was sharp but her voice, carefully measured. “Future husband or not, he sent me a creature in chains and expected gratitude.”

“He sent you a gift,” the Queen corrected. “And a powerful one. Symbolic. Rare. You would do well to understand what that means.”

“It means I’m being married off like a pawn on a game board,” Eris said, too quietly.

“A queen does not get the luxury of outrage. Or sentiment,” Her mother snapped. “You are not a child anymore, Eris. You are Moonhaven’s heir.”

“I didn’t forget that,” she murmured. “Not for a second.”

The Queen’s expression didn’t shift, but her tone cooled further. “Then don’t let that creature provoke you again. Your court may smile now, but they were watching.”

Eris’ jaw clenched, her shoulders tight beneath the thick weight of her cloak. She reached up and unfastened it with quick fingers. As the fur slipped from her shoulders, she turned and held it out.

Xavier stepped forward.

His movements were precise, quiet. The ceremonial steel of his uniform reflected the moonlight like a blade half-drawn. His star kissed hair swept over his brow, barely concealing the faint scar there.

At the Queen’s mention of future husband, his jaw twitched. Barely. A flicker of something passed through his blue eyes before he dropped them to the cloak in his hands.

“See that he’s cleaned and treated,” Eris said, her voice softer now, directed at Xavier. “Somewhere out of sight. I don’t want him paraded through the halls.”

Xavier bowed his head slightly. “Yes, Princess.”

Their eyes met as he straightened. Hers still burned with something sharp and unsettled. His were cool, quiet, and unreadable. They held hers for just a second longer than necessary before he stepped back into shadow.

Queen Lenora turned, already striding toward the far arch. “This is the world we live in, Eris. One built on blood and bargains. You’d best remember that before your next outburst.”

Eris stared after her.

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said, but the Queen was already gone.

The silence returned, colder now. Eris remained standing in the moonlight, its glow catching in her silver eyes like frost.

Outside, the sky pressed in over the mountains.

Inside, the storm waited in her tower.