5. Effort

The days passed, each one weaving its own thread into the fragile tapestry that was forming between them. Alexandria had been cautious, her walls still standing tall in her heart, but they were no longer as impenetrable as they once were. Renald, for his part, was careful with his actions, choosing his words with more thought than usual, and allowing space for the soft, unspoken connection that had begun to grow between them.

One evening, after a long day of meetings and social duties, Alexandria retired to her chambers, exhausted yet restless. Her mind was still busy with the affairs of the Duchy, the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. She sat at her desk, scribbling notes, when a soft knock echoed from the door.

“Come in,” she called, not looking up.

The door creaked open, and Renald stepped inside. He was no longer in his formal attire but had changed into something more relaxed, his shoulders less stiff. The sight of him — less the calculating Duke, and more the man who had shared moments of genuine conversation with her — gave Alexandria a quiet sense of peace.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Renald said, his voice soft, though his presence filled the room.

Alexandria glanced up, her eyes meeting his. “Not at all,” she replied, offering him a small smile. “What brings you here?”

Renald hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking toward the stack of papers on her desk before settling back on her. “I was thinking… you might need a break,” he said slowly, as if unsure of his words. “There’s a garden not far from here. It’s quiet. I thought… you might like to take a walk.”

The suggestion caught her off guard. Alexandria had always assumed Renald’s idea of relaxation involved work or strategy, never something as simple as a walk in a garden. But there was something in his expression, a vulnerability she rarely saw, that made her want to accept.

“A walk sounds nice,” she said, standing up. She grabbed her shawl and draped it over her shoulders, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric. “Lead the way, then.”

They walked side by side, the evening air crisp with the onset of fall. The garden was quiet, as Renald had promised, with the scent of late-blooming flowers lingering in the air. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across the path before them.

They didn’t speak immediately, the silence between them comfortable in a way it had never been before. Alexandria noticed how Renald’s presence didn’t feel like a weight, but rather a calm. His usual intensity, so sharp and unyielding in court, was absent here. His eyes softened as he looked at the garden, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“It's beautiful here,” Alexandria said after a while, breaking the silence.

“It is,” Renald agreed, glancing at her. “I come here when I need to think. Or… when I want a moment of peace.”

“I thought you didn’t need peace,” Alexandria teased gently, her lips curling into a smile. “I thought you thrived in the chaos of court.”

Renald chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to it. But there’s something about this place that makes it easier to breathe.”

They continued walking, the conversation flowing more freely than either of them had anticipated. Alexandria found herself relaxing, her earlier tension easing with every step. She spoke of her kingdom, of the life she had left behind, and for the first time, Renald listened intently, without the usual distance between them. It wasn’t the formality of a Duke listening to his wife; it was the attention of a man truly interested in who she was.

“And you,” Alexandria asked after a while, her gaze drifting to the side, “what made you choose a life of power? You could have been content in a smaller realm, without all the politics.”

Renald’s expression shifted, his gaze turning distant for a moment. He didn’t answer right away, but then he spoke, his voice softer than usual.

“I wanted to make a difference,” he said quietly. “I wanted to build something lasting. A legacy. But…” He hesitated, glancing at Alexandria. “Some days, I wonder if I’ve made the right choices.”

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts turning over his words. She had never seen him so open, so vulnerable. But instead of pressing him, she simply walked closer, her arm brushing against his in the cool night air.

“You’re not alone in your doubts,” she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth she hadn’t intended. “I, too, wonder if I’ve made the right choices. We all have our burdens, don’t we?”

For a moment, they walked in silence, the unspoken understanding between them hanging in the air like a delicate thread. Then, Renald turned to her, his gaze meeting hers with a quiet intensity.

“Alexandria,” he said, his voice low. “I know I haven’t been the husband you deserved. But... I’m trying. I hope you know that.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his voice surprising her more than she cared to admit. She turned to face him fully, meeting his gaze without hesitation. The walls around her heart, which had been so firmly built, seemed to loosen just a little.

“I know,” she said quietly, her voice steady but warm. “And I’m not the wife you expected either. But... we’re both trying, aren’t we?”

He nodded, his lips curving ever so slightly. “We are.”

The moment hung between them, a quiet acknowledgment of their shared journey. And though neither of them spoke of it directly, the tenderness of the exchange was enough. It was the beginning of something more than just duty, more than just politics. It was a connection — small, but real.

As they continued their walk, side by side, the distance between them seemed to close just a little more. And in that simple, quiet moment, Alexandria realized that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for them both.

Even though it's just a marriage alliance, at least they can really respect each other.

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