Episode 2 – The Duke of Ravenwall

The day passed in a blur after the king’s announcement. Servants whispered as they hurried to prepare letters and gifts to send to Ravenwall, while the queen quietly instructed the maids to begin fitting gowns suitable for a duchess-to-be. Elenora, however, sat in the garden once more, her hands folded on her lap. The lily she had plucked earlier rested in a vase beside her, its white petals bright under the fading sunlight.

Her heart was heavy, yet she tried to steady it. “Marry… the Duke of Ravenwall,” she murmured to herself, the words still strange and foreign on her tongue. The image of a cold, distant man haunted her mind. Could someone like that ever understand her, a girl who found joy in flowers and sunshine?

A maid approached, bowing respectfully. “Your Highness, the duke has arrived at the palace. His Majesty requests your presence in the main hall.”

So soon? Elenora’s fingers curled around her skirt. She thought she would have at least a few more days to prepare, but fate seemed impatient. With a soft breath, she rose and followed the maid inside.

The main hall felt different that evening. Guards stood taller, their expressions tense, as though the very air had grown heavier. At the far end of the hall stood a tall man dressed in a dark military uniform, his black cape falling behind him. His posture was straight and commanding, his presence sharp enough to silence a room.

Elenora’s steps slowed. Her breath caught the moment her eyes met his.

The Duke of Ravenwall was nothing like she had imagined. His features were sharp and cold, his eyes a deep steel gray that seemed to pierce through her very soul. He bowed briefly to the king, then turned his gaze to her. There was no warmth in his expression, no gentle smile, only an unreadable sternness that made her heart flutter with unease.

“This is my daughter, Princess Elenora,” the king introduced, his voice firm. “She is to be your bride.”

Elenora lowered her gaze, her hands trembling as she curtsied gracefully. “I… am honored to meet you, my lord.”

The duke studied her in silence for a long moment. To others, it might have looked as though he was evaluating her worth, weighing her like a soldier inspects a weapon. But for Elenora, the silence was crushing, and she fought the urge to shrink away.

“You are smaller than I expected,” he finally said, his tone low and steady.

Elenora’s cheeks flushed at the blunt remark. She glanced up timidly, only to find his gaze fixed upon her, unwavering. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She was too soft, too innocent, to know how to respond to such a man.

The queen stepped in quickly, her smile gentle. “Elenora is delicate, yes, but she has a kind heart. That is a gift far rarer than strength of arms, Duke.”

For a brief second, something flickered in the duke’s eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He gave a curt nod, saying nothing more.

The king clapped his hands together. “Tomorrow evening, there shall be a feast in honor of this union. May it mark the beginning of peace between our lands.”

Elenora bowed her head, her fingers tightening around her skirt. A feast, a marriage, a life she had never asked for—all decided in a single day.

As the hall emptied, she caught one last glimpse of the duke. He stood tall and silent, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity she could not read. Though his face revealed nothing, her heart whispered a fragile hope: perhaps, beneath that cold armor, there was a man who could still be touched by warmth.

And though fear trembled in her chest, Elenora silently vowed to try.

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