It began with a simple nod. "Let's do it this weekend," Rin said, his voice light, almost casual, to Varros that morning. "Send invitations to everyone. Make it… unforgettable."
Varros's eyes gleamed, a suppressed smirk playing on his lips as he bowed slightly. "As you command, Your Highness."
And just like that, the empire was set in motion. Invitations, sealed with the Solas sigil, flew across the land, reaching every noble house, every celebrated general, even Kaelion, too, received his invitation.
In the chill of his northern manor, Kaelion received the news from a messenger. He dismissed the man, turning to the window, his gaze lost in the vast, snow-covered fields.
"So… he's marrying the girl," Kaelion mused, his voice barely a whisper.
He tapped a ringed finger against his chin, his lips a tight line. "Why now? What's your move, Rin?" He stood there for a long time, the question hanging in the air before he finally whispered, "What are you planning, 'brother'?"
Far from either domain, in a secluded tower, Arkan sat cross-legged, a black cup filled with a crimson liquid in his hand. The news brought a smile to his face, not a warm one, but sharp and amused.
"Finally. Things are heating up." He stared at the letter, a little longer than necessary, then muttered to himself, "Don't disappoint me, Rin. I've invested too much to let you fall too early."
Most of Rin's cousins politely declined, citing urgent border instability and pressing political duties. No one wanted to commit to a side just yet. Even his second brother, deep in Valen's territory, sent only a stiff, formal letter of congratulations. Rin had expected as much. The air was thick with unspoken tension; everyone in power could feel the empire's foundation trembling, sensing that a collapse was imminent.
"I want it to be big," Rin had instructed Varros. "Loud enough that the entire continent hears it."
And so it was.
For three days leading up to the wedding, Syrinthal was transformed. Banners bearing the combined Solas and Varros crests fluttered side by side. Musicians played ceaselessly, day and night. Streets were meticulously scrubbed, noble estates glowed with golden light, and commoners were confined to the outer districts.
Kaelion arrived cloaked in silver, his expression unreadable. Arkan, a silent shadow, stood behind the nobility, arms crossed, observing every subtle movement.
Guests filled the grand hall, their congratulations, platitudes, and gifts exchanged with polite smiles that never quite reached their eyes. Yet, nothing happened. No sudden assassination. No dramatic outburst. No shocking betrayal.
Kaelion's eyes narrowed. "This isn't like him. If this is just a marriage, then why does it feel like a feint?"
The wedding parade stretched for hours, Rin and his bride seated in a car of polished obsidian, offering smiles to nobles and soldiers alike. Selvara, in an elegant silver gown that shimmered in the fading light, played her part perfectly, smiling and even waving as if she genuinely meant it.
But behind her flawless facade, her thoughts were a storm. Days earlier, her father had cornered her, his grip bruising her arms, his voice a tempest. "This isn't a fairytale, girl. Within months, I want a grandson. You will do your part. That's what a Varros does."
She hadn't dared to speak back. She'd just nodded. Just like always.
In the car, Rin's fingers gently brushed hers. "You're with me now," he said in a low voice. "Don't think about your father. He can't hurt you here. He'll never dare."
Selvara looked up, surprised by the unexpected warmth. For the first time, a genuine smile touched her lips.
When they arrived at their new home, it was just the two of them, just as Rin had arranged. The staff had been dismissed for the night. Rin glanced around the empty dining room, a rare grin flickering across his face as he turned to her.
"I asked for us to be alone. What do you think?" he asked. "Should we make dinner first?"
She laughed, a light, melodic sound. "Your Highness is going to cook?"
He chuckled. "Don't underestimate me. Come with me and you'll see."
"I'll join you… just let me change first." She disappeared into the other room, a small moment of unexpected normalcy wrapping around her like a warm cloak.
Back at the Varros estate, the man himself sat alone in his personal study, his gaze fixed on a portrait of his younger self.
"That daughter of mine better not disappoint me," he muttered. He still saw her as a pawn, not a person. His mind drifted back to the choices that had brought him to this moment.
"I had to betray my father," he whispered. "Because that man… that man was too powerful. He would have crushed me. Thank the god he understood. Handed me control of the special forces. And now… now I will reclaim our legacy."
His grip tightened on the glass. "Through her… the Varros bloodline will rule again."