How To Love Your Archnemesis [Romance/Drama/Fantasy - Completed]

The boat creaked and rocked against the crashes of dark waves against the enormous hull, the island of Tudor a blot on the horizon. It wouldn't be long till they arrived with the howling wind rushing against the sails; he could already see a faint silhouette of Calypsa Castle's spire towers and the city of Tudor's rooftops. Cassien's gloved fingers tightened around the ship's railing as the vessel pitched over another swell. Behind him, flurries of dock workers began to prep the crates for unloading, and gathered aristocrats from the northern domains murmured amongst themselves, shifting uncomfortably at the humidity already clinging to their clothes.

Three years had been a long time to stay in the tundra. It would have been even longer since the people of Tudor got to indulge in goods shipped from other regions; the shipment crates were packed with delicacies and tinctures only manufactured from plants in the north, exotic jewelry to be sold, and of course - barrels and barrels of dark ale. With the death of King Ulric, Cassien knew it was imperative to showcase valuables that would be traded and bought to boost his region's economy.

The ship lurched violently as it crossed the harbor's protective barrier spells, the magical current making the timbers groan. His golden eyes caught movement on the distant docks; tiny figures scurried like ants preparing for their arrival - harbormasters, porters, and undoubtedly imperial guards waiting to enforce the Neutrality Law. There would undoubtedly be conflict among each nation's quadrant leaders after years of silence and discourse - especially with the South due to the border events.

The muscle in his jaw twitched. There had been nothing but trouble in the borders since the isolation occurred. After both Duke and Duchess Rivain passed, Cassien had been ordered to seclude himself to avoid catching the same deadly illness. He had lasted less than a week before he began to go stir-crazy, and when the news broke that villages were beginning to be pillaged for resources along the North-South borders, Cassien had taken off. He joined up with a small militia force dispatched by Baron Quinn to intercept a raid on a village that sat just within the bounds of Rivain. A nearby southern village's people had hired mercenaries to trespass the land and harvest the north's rightful resources, and this had been the Baron's last warning.

**

The ground had been thick with snow, but the river that separated Rivain from Monroe still ran with a frigid, black current. Cassien rushed towards the river, leaving behind the militia group in a trail of white powder. Blood smeared on his cheeks and armor - though not his own - and his eyes glowed a haunting golden hue, the frigid cold imbuing him with even more power.

The trespassers ran ahead, stumbling through the drifts in their desperation. They'd tried to scatter, but Cassien had kept them herded like frightened deer. Their plan had been simple: raid the grainhouses and flee back across River Brenn before the North could notice. They conveniently ignored the fact that they slaughtered a farmer and his family in cold blood to do so.

The men reached the edge of the river, one fumbling with the thick rope of their hitched boat. Another turned around to see the new Duke of the North striding towards them, cloak torn and whipping at his back, with not a single shred of urgency. One dropped a sack of grain in fear, hard-grown oat sinking deep into the river like an anchor.

"Forget the boat! Just swim!" One mercenary had ordered.

"We'll freeze to death!"

"It's either freeze or get chopped down at this point!" The voice belonged to a man that knew exactly what would happen if they got caught.

When Cassien arrived at the edge of River Brenn, the boat had been abandoned along with the stolen bags of grain that sat soiled, scattered around the ground. In the water, the men flailed against the deathly cold current. He clenched his jaw.

Cowards. Killing a man and his family with not even the stolen goods to show for it. The fury at the desecration of his people blinded Cassien.

He stepped into the shore of the river, feeling the ice seep through his boots and deep into his bones, though he felt no cold at all. Cassien unsheathed his sword in a single motion, and with both hands he thrusted it deep into the river. In a flurry of bursting power, pure white shot out from the blade and into the water, spreading like a cracked web across the river. A violent crack echoed like thunder as the entire current seized. The screams of horror barely registered in his mind as the ice caught up to their legs, capturing their bodies in a frozen snapshot of ice. They were suspended in the River Brenn which had been entirely frozen solid.

Cassien ripped out the sword from the chunk of ice, splinters of cold shattering from the force. The heat drained from his body. And he turned away, unblinking.

**

Cassien blinked, and thoughts of ice covered in red of the Brenn dissolved, replaced by the thudding of the ship as the bridge lowered onto the docks of Tudor's harbour. The scent of blood changed to salt, the cries of dying men shifted to the roar of the sea.

"Duke Rivain!" a familiar voice rang out.

Cassien's head snapped up just as a tall, broad-shouldered man with windblown brown curls - Thom Paladrin - tackled him with a bear hug. Fitting, for a man who certainly had grown up to be just as big as one.

"Thom," Cassien exhaled, a brief smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he returned his affection. "I can see where all the food went during the epidemic."

Thom laughed deeply. He had certainly grown out, from a lanky boy to a man as muscled and tall as a grizzly. "I'll get you all caught up with me soon enough. We have the entirety of spring to fatten up your bones."

The two began walking through the harbour as they spoke, reaching a carriage that had been awaiting. A servant notified Cassien that the boat shipments would be directed to the castle proceeding them. The two boarded as servants loaded their luggage in the back before setting off quickly for Calypsa Castle.

"Fun," Cassien muttered. "A whole ninety days of diplomatic relations and pandering."

His friend looped a heavy arm around his neck, pulling him in as his voice bellowed. "Aw, come on. This is a good thing. I, for one, am excited to finally start seeing new people again. I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way."

"Unlikely," Cassien said. "Someone's going to say the wrong thing within the first hour, and piss off the wrong person."

"I'd bet both of those 'someone's' is going to be you," Thom elbowed him. "Speaking of pissin' off, I heard you froze a whole river during a border skirmish. Who pissed you off to do that?"

"Band of mercenaries," Cassien said, jaw tightening as the unpleasant memories began to settle in again. "Hired in from the south."

"Always the south," Thom nodded. "We had a similar skirmish too, on the western cliffs. People were purposely agitating the mountain beasts and causing a ruckus. Never found out who was doing it, but I'd bet gold it was them, too."

Thom leaned back against the seat, watching the city pass in a blur as the carriage began to cross the stone bridge. "Makes me wonder what they've been cooking up while we've all been dying or hiding."

Cassien glanced at Thom. "What makes you think they weren't?"

"Oh, I got here a few days ago. Saw your flag from the tavern window and came bolting," he grinned. "But anyway, they're here. Most of them, at least. Knights and simple foot soldiers from Seldaryn and Ellenwood came clucking through looking like peacocks with their ridiculous plumes. So unfortunately, alive and well. Nothing from Thaibarrus, though."

Thaibarrus. Naomi's home capital. Cassien's breath caught in his lungs.

Thom kept on, oblivious. "Speaking of Thaibarrus, isn't the new Duchess from there? I heard from my father that the previous Duke and Duchess passed during the first year, so the title went to the daughter. What's-her-name?" His face furrowed in thought as he quickly snapped his fingers together, as if the motion would recall the name. "Although, if I haven't heard about her either, there's a chance she didn't make it as well."

Cassien felt his blood freeze at the suggestion. Thom was right; he hadn't heard her name a single time in three years.

Thom noticed his friend's pallor expression. "You alright? I know you northerners are pale people but you look almost sickly."

Cassien forced a breath through his nose and offered a weak scoff. "I'm fine. Just seasick."

Thom gave him a skeptical glance. "But we're in a carriage?"

"You know what I mean," Cassien brushed him off, grateful that the carriage began to halt to a stop.

The two men exited the carriage as they ascended the front steps of Calypsa Castle's path, wide and clean, polished to an unnatural gleam in preparation for the long awaited Accord. Banners of each region's flag flew pridefully at the top of each watchtower, each a sigil to those who had not survived - especially one of the king's crest. The stairs leading up to the grand doors were lined with lit wax candles and bouquets of mourning roses. The Accord had always been a busy event, but this year was different; some nobles entering with their family crest were missing members, some with unrecognizable children that had matured during the isolation, and no expense was spared to showcase the mourning of King Ulric.

The inside of Calypsa Castle was both familiar and unfamiliar - having been years since his last attendance, but the architecture and design of the inside was always a sight to behold. The grand hallways stretched endlessly, their marble floors polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the flickering light from ornate sconces. Intricate mosaics depicting Calypsa's history adorned the vaulted ceilings - scenes of Lunare's sacrifice, their victory of the Conquest, and the newest addition: a massive canvas at the top of the grand staircase of the late King Ulric, framed in a gilded square shimmering with gems. Even inside the palace, bouquets of red roses lined the stairs, petals staining the ground like dots of blood.

As Cassien and Thom explored the palace halls greeting aristocrats as they passed - and Cassien mumbling 'thank yous' to the condolences of the late Duke and Duchess of Rivain - he kept a discreet eye out for a hair of moonlight and icy eyes. But hours passed and by the time the sun began to dip beyond the horizon of Tudor, streaking the sky with a tired hue of pink and orange, Cassien had already discreetly scoured every hall, room, and balcony that he could with his privilege. Eventually, only the stars and moon twinkled in the dark sky as the remaining arriving nobles began to fill the ballroom for the first night dinner. It shimmered with ripples of gold and marble across the room, velvet long tables flush with elaborate displays of rich food and drinks. It was clear that the kingdom bounced back as quickly as it could after their isolation, not to mention the generous donations of shipments from each region. The air was filled with chatter and gentle music, with no one wanting to disturb the first night with any mention of conflict; for now, the Northerners kept to their side, and the South pretended not to notice.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Then, the room shifted as an official announcement blared out the arrival of the twin heirs.

The nobles fell into quiet bows and curtsies as a pair stepped through the open archway, the light behind them making them look almost ethereal.

Prince Aryn and Princess Seraphine.

Their presence was unmistakable: tall, slender figures with hair that cascaded like threads of silver silk. The marbled silver of their eyes were framed with lashes pale as frost, their features so uniquely defining and striking.

The two twin heirs floated around the room to each noble family, the prince's presence especially radiating and kind - like the sun bursting through morning fog. The princess glided behind him with a steady but unreadable expression, though she tilted her head at the slightest incline of acknowledgement.

They approached Cassien, who bowed deeply.

"Your Royal Highnesses."

"Lord Rivain," Prince Aryn greeted him like they were long-time friends. "Well, I guess it would be Duke Rivain now. It's good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I'm sorry for your loss."

Cassien gave a respectful nod, though his heart squeezed at a faded grief. "And yours as well, Your Highness."

Princess Seraphine's eyes swept around Cassien. "Did you find what you were looking for today, Duke?"

Cassien's posture barely shifted, but his jaw tensed ever so slightly at the princess's question. He had tried to be non conspicuous - faked detours or feigned interest at the architecture, but evidently, even subtle movements were not beyond Princess Seraphine's perception. His speciality was not stealth, after all. Her ability to observe without overt engagement had been remarked upon in court circles before, but this was the first time he had been subject to it.

Cassien forced a half-smile, careful with his response. "I wasn't aware I'd misplaced anything."

Prince Aryn, who either didn't notice the tension or chose to ignore it, spoke up. "Sera always had a way of sniffing out secrets," he said cheerfully. "Even ones you didn't know you had. Part of her magic."

Seraphine said nothing more, but her gaze lingered a second too long on Cassien's face before she turned away, hair billowing across her pale shoulders like a silver cape before drifting into the crowd. Prince Aryn gave Cassien an apologetic look.

"Please, forgive my sister. She has taken our dear father's death especially hard."

"It's no bother," Cassien said smoothly. "If it's part of her magic, as you say, she has all the right to question it."

"Sera's magic is… very unique," Prince Aryn gave a polite smile. "It often has a semblance of the truth, but as you can tell, hard to interpret. Sometimes it gives off the wrong impression, and it's hardened her to see so many different facets of reality."

"I see. So some sort of future sight?"

"Precisely."

"And what do you possess, Prince Aryn? If I might be allowed to ask?"

"You may," The prince said as he leaned in slightly, speaking in a low but not unkind voice. His tone was full of understanding and insight as he spoke. "I never expected the infamous Cassien Rivain to be so full of longing. For who, though, remains a mystery to me."

Cassien's expression flickered with a fraction of vulnerability before he quickly masked it. He bristled slightly, though not in anger. He did ask, after all. He just didn't like the answer.

"You must be mistaken," he replied coolly, voice steady despite the uncomfortable pounding in his chest. "Longing implies I've lost something."

Aryn's lips curled softly in an empathetic smile, his stormy eyes compassionate. "Or perhaps you're afraid you'll never find it again."

Cassien could not find the words to respond, and Prince Aryn pulled away. His face was not mocking nor pitiful, but conveyed genuine warmth. "Enjoy your evening, Duke Rivain. I do hope you find what you're looking for."

Cassien stood rooted in place as the prince walked away, words hanging heavily in the air between them. He forced a slow exhale through clenched teeth, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration. It begged the question: why was he so desperate to see her again? They shared the briefest time together - and only a single time - yet he could not forget the sound of her laugh or the scent of citrus and vanilla on her hair as she had clutched to him.

He couldn't describe what it was about Naomi that was so irresistible. They simply were like the sun and the moon, on a course that would inevitably collide in an inescapable eclipse.

Was he a fool for having been captured by a Southern woman's charms?

Maybe so.

But Lunare help him if he didn't crave her anyway.

A high-pitched voice pulled him from deep thoughts. "Lord Rivain!"

A familiar woman with dark brown curls approached him dressed in a soft pink gown that flared outwards at the hip. Her face was sweet and eyes wide with delight.

"Lady Ysonna," Cassien greeted as he bowed his head.

She came to an abrupt halt just shy of colliding with his chest, clasping her gloved hands together as she looked up at him, cheeks flushed. "I saw you from across the hall and knew I had to say hello! It's been so long since we've spoken. I am sorry to hear of your loss."

"Thank you. Yes, it certainly has been awhile," Cassien agreed. He offered a polite smile, but not one warm enough to encourage the fondness clearly shining in her eyes - though futile, her eyes full of puppy love. "I trust your family is well?"

"Oh, yes, thank you for asking! My father will be arriving late, however," She tucked an errant curl behind her ear nervously, biting her lip to hide a shy smile. "I see you're not escorting anyone here today?"

Her words caught his attention. "Arriving late? I thought no guests were accepted past late afternoon."

"From what I understand, yes, but there was a final ship that had a minor delay so Their Highnesses made an exception. It had stopped in the port of Thaibarrus to pick up a few stragglers." Ysonna tried hard not to roll her eyes at the mention of the southern capital. "Their ship apparently cracked a hull, so father offered his as a peace offering. Figures, for southern craftsmanship."

His mind raced as he forced a neutral expression. "That's a generous offer from the Marquis."

Ysonna gave a soft shrug, her smile forced. "Yes, well, he did say something about unity… though the Southerners can hardly be trusted. Who knows if they'll even be grateful." She tilted her head at him with a shy look. "Umm… so, did you escort anyone here today?"

His attention snapped back. "No, I'm here alone."

"Oh, that's good. I mean - not that it's good that you're alone!" Her cheeks flushed deeply as she stammered. "It's good that you're… available to socialize! As I said, it has been a long time since we last spoke."

"It's certainly been good seeing familiar faces again," he replied diplomatically, offering a faint half-smile.

"You look-" Ysonna said, voice trembling slightly, though her voice was immediately cut off by a sharp increase of chatter at the main doors of the ballroom.

Cassien's gaze was drawn sharply towards the commotion when an unmistakable cascade of moonlit hair swayed gracefully among a crowd of late arrivals; his breath caught painfully in his chest, heart thudding rapidly just as the ballroom orchestra launched into melody, signaling the beginning of the evening's first dance. Guests surged forward like a tsunami, quickly blocking his view. He took an involuntary step forward, urgency pulling at every fiber of his being, only to be halted by a gentle tug of his black sleeve.

"My lord, is everything okay?" Ysonna's gentle voice said.

He swallowed hard before turning back, his jaw tense. "Yes. Everything is fine. You'll have to ex-"

"Then will you dance with me?" She interrupted, voice anxious, and he could see the pleading in her brown eyes.

He gave a last glance at the crowd of people that had enveloped the room, and the floor was thick with swirling bodies. It would be hard to break through the crowd at this rate. One dance. One dance, and he would go.

He forced a smile as he offered his hand. "Of course."

Her eyes sparkled like starlight as she took his gloved hand. He led her towards the crowded dance floor, the two of them stepping in tune to the classical music. Cassien's golden gaze drifted discreetly over Ysonna's head, flickering to every face and corner of the room. Every twirl and sway felt mechanical; every beat of the melody was another second that he counted down before he could make his escape.

"My lord," Ysonna said in a small voice, struggling to keep up with his pace and stature. "Um.. This is hard to say, but-"

The live music shifted into a softer harmony, signaling the end of the song. Ysonna watched as many of the men kissed the lady's hand before departing from their dance together, and she looked at Cassien expectantly; but the Duke's eyes were clearly elsewhere among the crowd. She felt her heart deflate at his inattention. Cassien paused as the final soft chord lingered in the air. He met Ysonna's hopeful gaze for a heartbeat too long before gently dropping her hand.

"Lady Ysonna," he said, voice quiet but firm. "Thank you for the dance. Please, excuse me."

He bowed to her before stepping away, disappearing into the crowd as her heart froze in disappointment.

Cassien wove through the crowd of silks and haughty laughter, booze and decadents with as calmness and decorum as he could. Every silver glint sent his heart racing, though it was always just a serf walking with a silver platter or a reflection on a pearl necklace. He scanned every corner, every round of a pillar, leaving the confines of the ballroom to sneak around the darkened corridors of the castle. Cassien's boots squeaked quietly against polished marble as he rounded another corner, only to hear the faintest rustle of fabric behind him.

Silver hair - though far too white-toned - stood behind him. Princess Seraphine.

"Duke Rivain," she said quietly, her face completely neutral and calm. "You're missing the next dance."

"I never did quite enjoy dancing, Your Highness," Cassien replied coolly, mask set. Technically, he was not forbidden to explore the castle - there was no need to play the guilty party.

She offered a rare, inscrutable smile. "I could tell. I'm sure even Lady Ysonna could tell… But she does not know it has nothing to do with her."

"And I presume you do?"

"I'm sure my dear brother shared with you a glimpse of my sight," she responded. "Do not worry. I am not looking to interfere in your business. I simply find the fact that the Northern Duke, of all people, searches for the Southern heiress… incredibly interesting."

"The territories of Rivain and Monroe have quite a complicated history, do they not?" She said rhetorically. "But I suppose it makes for a riveting love story for two rivals to unite. And that strengthens Calypsa evermore."

"Where are you going with this, Your Highness?" Cassien tried his best to keep his simmering frustration from exploding.

Her sharp eyes locked with his. "I will warn you once. There is…. Something is brewing, outside of Calypsa's control. It will happen soon. I do not know yet what it is. I can only pray to Lunare that the two of you can see past the strained history of your family's legacies, regardless of what comes, and to trust in what you have built together thus far."

Cassien furrowed his brow in confusion. "I don't understand."

She leaned in ever so slightly. "Don't trust things merely by your eyes."

"I wouldn't have picked you as a man affected by infatuation, but it is quite sweet. Poetic, even. The ice duke melted by the sun of the south," Princess Seraphine let out the barest smile before she began to walk away, though she glanced her head back a single time.

"There is a garden terrace on the south wings that overlooks the harbour. I hope you find what you're looking for."

She disappeared into the light of the ballroom, her words repeated in his mind. It was all too cryptic for him to decipher at the moment; he needed to go. Cassien slipped through the southern wing and up the plush rug that winded up marble stairs. The moonlight cast long shadows across every pane of window that led closer and closer towards the harbour side of the castle, where eventually sat a glass-paned double door. He took a deep breath before pressing down the silvered handle, letting the cool sea breeze waft across him. Planters overflowed with jasmine and deep red roses, floral trellises were stacked against each other as ivy clung to iron-wrought benches along the sides of the terrace walls.

At the far end of the open air, alone and framed by the stars and fragrant petals, stood a woman with her back facing him styled in a half-do, with moonlit coloured hair. She was taller than he remembered, more shapely. She was dressed in a silver‑blue gown that caught every facet of moonbeam; the bodice fitted and embroidered with tiny motifs in pale gold thread, off‑shoulder sleeves draped into soft, gauzy chiffon that showcased her exposed sharp shoulders. The skirt fell in light, layered waves as if it were made of mist. She was ethereal and stunning and beautiful; and everything he had remembered of her.

Cassien's chest tightened as he stepped forward, the soft scrape of his boot on stone breaking the silence. Naomi's head lifted at the sound. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then, he strode towards her in full confidence, heart thundering so hard he feared even she might hear it before stopping before her. She turned then, her freckled face drawn in an unbelievable expression of awe and longing, the softest blush rising to her cheeks.

Naomi blinked then, her soft pink lips curving upwards. "I thought maybe you forgot about me."

The words escaped him. "There was not a single day I didn't think of you."

He leaned down as he tilted her chin upwards, her feet extending upwards to meet his height. Her eyes fluttered closed as Cassien brushed his lips to hers - gentle, questioning, as if seeking her permission.

When she responded with her hands gingerly holding the sides of his smooth face, a soft sigh escaped her, and their kiss deepened ever so slightly. It was shy, but brimming with warmth and deep anticipation that had been bottling up for years. His hand cradled her cheek, thumb stroking her skin, as her fingers moved to weave into his hair, anchoring them both in the moment.

Like two wandering souls that had finally found a place to rest, and by chance, picked the same peace.

Cassien was glad it wasn't only him that had been reliving their shared moment so many years ago.

Around them, time held its breath as the distant harbor lights blurred into a golden haze - but even the sweetest rose holds sharp thorns. The moment felt like the beginning of something new, something grand, but in both their minds, they hoped: please, don't let this be a mistake.