Lily stared down at the ring on her finger, her thumb tracing the scratch on the ruby as if the roughness might dissolve under her touch. It didn't shine like the sparkling gems in her jewelry box—no, this ring wasn't meant to gleam. It carried something heavier than light. A story forged from hands worn with dirt and memories soaked in blood and hope.
Yen's fingers still curled around hers, his eyes locked on the ring like it was a miracle he'd never dared to believe in.
"It might not look like much," he said softly, voice low enough that only she could hear, "but it's the royal family's heirloom."
Lily looked up, catching the flicker of something raw and unguarded in his gaze—something he rarely showed.
"I'll give you something better someday," Yen chuckled, though it lacked its usual cocky edge.
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm satisfied with this. It's perfect."
His eyes searched hers, wide and almost desperate. "I only loved you. And only you. For eternity."
Her breath hitched. A sob—soft, trembling—escaped from somewhere deep inside her chest. She hurried to cover her mouth, afraid it might shatter the fragile moment.
Yen's thumb brushed soothingly over her knuckles.
"I didn't know it would hurt so much to miss you," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, breath mingling. "You're carved into me. Bone-deep. It's not going away."
Lily leaned into him, trembling. "You should've told me sooner."
"I was scared," he admitted, voice barely audible, "scared you'd say no… or worse—say yes out of pity."
"Pity?" She scoffed, the sound brittle. "I nearly shattered waiting for you. I thought you were dead, Yen."
"I'm not." His arms tightened, pulling her closer until she could feel the steady drum of his heartbeat beneath her cheek. "I'm here now. And I want to stay. If you'll have me."
No grand ceremony. No gleaming halls. Just the muddy courtyard, wind swirling around them like a quiet blessing.
She rose on her toes and kissed him—soft and tentative at first, then with growing urgency. Her hands tangled in his collar, pulling him down like she needed to prove he was real. That he was here.
He kissed her back with quiet desperation, like he'd been waiting months just to feel her lips again. No teasing. No games. Just raw, aching relief.
When they finally parted, breaths ragged and uneven, their foreheads rested together, eyes shining with tears.
"I love you," she whispered, barely audible.
Yen stiffened, like the words were a treasure he hadn't dared hope for. Then a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face. "Say it again."
Lily narrowed her eyes, cheeks burning. "No. You heard me."
He leaned closer, voice low and teasing. "Say it, or I'm proposing again. Shirtless. Loudly. In front of the court."
She snorted, trying not to laugh. "You wouldn't dare."
"Oh, I absolutely would. With a lute. I'll serenade you while Arkon dies inside."
"Yen—" she laughed, a mix of sob and giggle.
He tilted her chin, eyes sparkling. "Say it, Lily."
Her lips parted, breath caught, and then she smiled—a slow, sweet vow shining in her glassy eyes.
"I love you," she whispered again.
He crushed her to him, muttering a quiet, reverent curse that made her giggle against his chest.
Unnoticed at the edge of the corridor, Colla stood with a tray of untouched tea. Her eyes were soft, watching quietly. She said nothing, only slipped back inside with a small, peaceful smile.
-----
The seasons shifted with relentless certainty. Spring's tender breath gave way to the fiery heat of summer, and soon the leaves bled crimson and gold as autumn's chill crept in.
The day had come.
Beneath the soaring vaulted arches of the Grand Hall, bathed in gold and crimson, the crowd roared as crowns were lowered onto their heads. Emperor. Empress. Bound by blood, by title, by ring, and by vow. The kingdom's joy echoed in the high ceilings.
But when night fell and the massive doors to their bedchamber shut tight, the grandeur faded into silence.
They stood facing each other, awkward and stiff, like two teenagers caught trying on their parents' clothes for the first time.
"…I won't touch you if you're not ready," Yen muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but at her.
Lily twisted the hem of her silk robe nervously, the delicate fabric slipping between her fingers. "At this rate, we'll be virgins forever."
Their eyes met—and suddenly, laughter bubbled out, breaking the tension like a spilled cup of wine.
Yen rolled his neck, stretching like he was preparing for a duel, not seduction. "Alright. Come here," he said, holding out both hands like a peace offering.
She stepped forward and slipped her fingers into his. Silence settled, thick and trembling, as his hands began to untie her robe—fingers shaking just slightly.
She returned the favor, delicately undoing the knot of his belt, careful not to look down. Not yet.
Yen bent his head and brushed his lips gently against hers—tentative, almost shy.
She lifted her face to meet him, lips parting in invitation.
And then—clack—their teeth collided.
They both jerked back, faces flaming red.
"Sorry," they said in perfect unison.
A beat. Then another.
They burst into laughter, shaking the awkwardness loose.
"I—shit—I'll be a man about this," Yen groaned through his grin, rubbing his forehead. "Let me try again. No teeth this time."
Without warning, he swept her up like she weighed nothing, more reflex than romance.
She squealed, clutching his shoulders, but didn't protest. Not anymore.
He laid her down on the bed with a gentleness that surprised her, her hair fanning out over the silk like a dark halo.
Then, slow and deliberate, he leaned over her.
Kissing her forehead. Her cheeks. Her nose. Her lips.
Then her chin, the delicate curve of her jaw, the tender spot just beneath her ear.
She giggled and tried to hide her face behind her hands.
He chuckled and nibbled her neck in playful retaliation.
"You're not allowed to hide from your husband," he murmured against her skin.
"Then don't make me laugh," she whispered, breath hitching.
"I'll make you do more than laugh," he promised, eyes glinting with mischief—and something softer, something reverent.
And when he kissed her again, this time it was slow and sure—a promise written with lips, tongue, and heat.
Then, just as the moment thickened,
"D-d-do I—" Yen stuttered, hands trembling as he held her legs.
"I don't know!" Lily burst out, hysterical.
Yen laughed.
They stopped, looking at each other.
His head tilted, a mock serious expression crossing his face.
"The instruction clearly said to open—"
"Yen." Lily facepalmed.
"Okay, sweetheart. Buckle up." He rolled his shoulders and pulled her ankles.
Lily squealed in laughter as he tugged her closer.