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

The sky quickly darkened as a sea of armed soldiers of both Calypsan and Seravethian forces marched their way back towards Calypsa Castle, the two opposing nations segregated in formation. In the back, the Northern knights kept a watchful eye on the tanned warriors that strode in rowdiness, making lawdy jokes and gestures as they walked. King Alistair and Prince Aryn rode atop their horses at the front, their postures straight and confident as they led their respective pack. Chained between both horses was the wooden chest containing the most precious cargo in all the kingdom: the Moonshard. It was to be safeguarded under constant protection until they could decide what was to be done about it.

Alistair and his warriors were given a courtesy to enter the Calypsa Castle, though their attendance at the Accord would be pending the full approval of Princess Seraphine. Cassien and Naomi stayed behind, excusing their absence for a private discussion that sent more than a few rumbles throughout the men from both their respective nations, some unhappy, some disbelieving.

Ser Finneus waited until the bulk of the army was gone before he trotted up on the stolen steed, offering Naomi his hand. "Your Grace, we should head back-"

Before Finneus could lower his stirrup, Cassien slid in front, voice even but firm. "I will escort her."

"I do not answer to you." The knight's voice was cold, his expression displeased with the Northern Duke. His eyes met Naomi's. "Your Grace?"

"It's okay," Naomi nodded as her hand reached for Cassien's, finding it quickly. "Go without me. And please let Cressida know I'm fine."

Finneus acknowledged the order then. "Yes, Your Grace." The trot of his horse disappeared in the ever-decreasing blot of bodies in the distance.

Naomi gave Cassien a cheeky smile. "Sorry."

"What is there to be sorry for? He's right - you're his master, not me," Cassien said. He looked down at her hand and pulled up the end of his cape, scrubbing it at her skin gently.

She let out a laugh as she pulled away. "What're you doing?"

"He kissed your hand." His face was almost a pout, sullen.

"You're just rubbing spit all over your cape."

"At least it's not on your skin."

She smiled. "I didn't take you for the jealous type."

"…Me either," his reply was almost inaudible.

The two stared at each other in blossoming endearment under the twinkle of the emerging stars, the salty draft of the sea softly whipping around them. Cassien drew his fur-lined cloak around her shoulders, the immediately warm enveloping her as she sighed contently, leaning against his shoulder as the two stared out at the harbour. The outline of the massive Seraveth vessels rocked quietly against shore waves.

"So…" Naomi said quietly. "Everyone knows."

"Everyone knows."

Naomi glanced up without moving from her spot. "Are you okay with that?"

"I don't care what people think about me. I'm more concerned about the burden you'll receive from your own people."

Her fingers fiddled with the fabric of the cape. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"You tell me," Cassien untangled her hand from the hem, squeezing it gently. "My mother used to call you Southerners as 'songbirds' - the melody of the forest would be so enchanting from the singing, that you wouldn't notice the preying eagle from behind until it was too late."

She let out a bitter laugh. "She wasn't wrong. The Game is all about knowing exactly what people want to hear, what they want to see."

He turned, lifting her chin gently so that their eyes met. "They'll either see this as a betrayal to your own people, or a trick of which you've caught me in your cage."

"....And if things work out between us, they'll say I sold Monroe's honor for a northern duke's favor." Silence filled the moment between the two. Her voice was barely a whisper, stuck in his honeyed depths.

The tips of his fingers felt cold but stayed their touch as he spoke. "I would understand if you didn't want to risk things with me."

But Naomi did want to risk it - for the first time in her life, there was something she knew she wanted, no matter how unknown the territories of affection or the judgemental roars of her court. She rose to the tips of her feet, brushing against his lips; his forehead came down to lean against hers.

"I've spent my entire life calculating risks," she murmured against him as the rush of the sea faded in the distance. "It's time I lived."

**

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

In an emergent meet between both Imperial twins, Princess Seraphine begrudgingly consented to Seraveth's full participation in the Accord, at the insistence of Prince Aryn. No matter the tumultuous history, Seraveth was under an entirely different rule than those who led the original kingdom to such a fracture, and with the gifting of the legendary artifact, there was no reason to object. Still, weeks passed in a haze of arguments and lack of courtesy, and confrontations between Seraveth's dignitaries and Calypsan aristocrats were a daily occurrence.

More than once, Imperial guards had to step in to enforce the Neutrality Law in place at the summit. Courtiers were thick with outrage at the mere idea of trading treaties with the kingdom that had violated Lunare's godhood, and even the usually collected Prince Aryn began to feel an overload of emotions against his magical capabilities - both a gift and a burden. He knew exactly how to appeal to the masses to keep tension just under a boil, but it was no easy task. Even Princess Seraphine began to appear less in court, her future sight having taken an increasing toll on her health since the arrival.

Naomi and Cassien announced their official intention to begin mending the damaged relations between Rivain and Monroe, met by intense scrutiny of those under their court. They poured over councils and the beginnings of an alliance between their nations, with Rivianian nobles reluctantly falling into line at the leadership of their Duke - his resolve and authority thoroughly recognized and respected. But Monroe's court was a different tempest.

Aristocrats hissed behind fans and cliques, whispering that the new Duchess was nothing more than a lovestruck girl, branding the duke as 'her personal weakness.' Even as Naomi defended each policy with calm intelligence and strategy, some even had the gall to jest that the late Duke and Duchess must be rolling in their graves.

Yet when dusk fell and the corridors emptied, the two would forget their troubles briefly as they stole hurried kisses behind shadowed corners. During dinners, they were always the last to finish, their hands entwined beneath the oaken table - though they were careful to keep affections out of public display. Cassien even carved a small charm for her made out of pearl taken from Tudor's salty shores, shaped as a bird. Naomi kept it near her at all times, a silent reminder that he stood beside her, always. Each waking moment together slowly chipped away at the wall that had been built between them from years of warnings; Naomi's nervous laugh and Cassien's stoicness grew more assured with each day. They found themselves slipping into a tentative companionship with something more, though both were equally too pessimistic to be the first to admit it - thoroughly afraid of the other's response.

Thom fell in step with Cassien after a rather rigorous sparring session, both men's tunics soaked in sweat and their muscles flexed with exhaustion.

Cassien caught him staring. "What?"

"Nothing," Thom said quickly, feigning a bored look.

They walked away from the sparring dummies, and Cassien swore he could feel Thom's eyes boring through the side of his head. He narrowed his eyes and halted. "Is there something on my face?"

"Nope. You're fine."

"Then why do you keep staring?"

"I admire the way you style your hair."

"Thom."

He sighed, pushing back thick knots of dark brown hair. "Alright, fine. You want to know? You made a public announcement that North is going to start working with the South, with that Rosenthorn girl. A very public rival. You're not blind. Surely you realize that people aren't happy about this."

"I know that. But she's an intelligent woman - a duchess - and very capable of handling her affairs. I have faith things will work out between our regions."

"I doubt it," Thom muttered, but he bowed apologetically at his quip. "Can I speak frankly?"

Cassien almost chuckled. "You already do most of the time, anyway. Go ahead."

"How serious is this…. 'relationship?' Is this just to blow off some steam?"

They stopped short at the end of the training grounds, placing their weapons aside before continuing ahead in Calypsa Castle's walls. Servants stopped to bow as they passed, and Cassien could hear flirtatious giggles in his direction. More than once, they shied away with rosy cheeks as soon as he glanced towards them.

How serious was this relationship to him? What did he expect from it - and to what means? If they wanted it just for political strength, it was a no brainer even with their family's longstanding rivalry. But for something else entirely, it had never even been a possibility.

Cassien didn't know how to respond. In truth, he wasn't quite sure how to feel either.

He enjoyed her company, the way she slowly became warmer in his presence and shied away less with each conversation they shared. But he couldn't lie that there was still a thin barrier that held the two of them away from being themselves fully - it was much too soon, and too much to ask in the current state of their relationship.

If it could even be called a relationship, at this point. It was more akin to a tentative courting that most of high society disapproved of.

Still, Cassien had never been one to give into public pressure.

He realized he hadn't answered Thom yet, and the silence began to loom. Cassien cleared his throat. "I'm enjoying things as they are. Even if this… personal relationship does not work between the two of us, I think it was time for the feud between Rivain and Monroe to end."

Thom scoffed lightheartedly. "I never thought I'd see the day…"

"Do you disagree with my choice?"

They rounded a corner towards the north wing. "You're my liege. It doesn't matter if I disagree with it."

"What does my friend think? My usually very opinionated friend."

Thom smirked then. "I think you're rushing things. You don't know her - she doesn't know you. For all you know, this could be a ploy for something nefarious."

"I don't think Naomi is that sort of person."

"Would you bet your people on it?"

Cassien's steps almost faltered. At a moment like this, he wished his parents were still around to consult. He wondered if they would disapprove of the relationship as much as the court did, or if they could see past such politics. "...That, I can't do."

Thom reached out and clapped his shoulder as a comforting gesture. "As my friend, I hope it works out for you. But as your vassal, there is a big difference between infatuation and love. I think you should slow down. You need to figure out exactly what you're looking for before you start betting the cards of your people on it."

Was he infatuated with Naomi? Sure, she was gorgeous and kindhearted and he enjoyed spending time with her. But the more Cassien thought about it, the more he realized how rushed things had been. They had barely known another before the kingdom suffered several years in dreadful illness. Their 'relationship' had no guarantees, no foundation.

He couldn't ignore the magnetic pull that he felt towards her. But as a newly anointed duke, he had responsibilities as well.

"...I'll keep that in mind. I appreciate your honesty."

Thom nodded. "Happy to give it anytime."

With that, Thom stepped away at a fork in the hallways and left Cassien to wonder exactly what he got himself into.