The convoy's pace slowed as they approached Aurelith, the soldiers and healers riding in loose groups on horseback, each of them lost in their own thoughts or quietly conversing with those nearby. The road ahead stretched out, winding through the countryside, and as the city loomed in the distance, the anticipation in the air was palpable. The closer they came, the louder the sound of distant cheers became, carried on the wind like the distant murmur of a celebration awaiting their arrival. There was a sense of energy, of excitement, in the air, as though the city itself was breathing in anticipation of their return. Yet, despite the growing buzz of elation all around her, Mirelith's thoughts remained turbulent, a swirl of uncertainty and unanswered questions. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, as her horse trotted alongside Marvic's, their steady rhythm in stark contrast to the chaos in her mind.

"Will you be staying in Aurelith for long?" Marvic asked, his voice breaking through her reverie. His tone was casual, but there was a note of genuine curiosity beneath his words, as if he truly wanted to know what her plans were. "Or will you be heading back to Everspring?"

Mirelith glanced at him, momentarily meeting his eyes, though her hesitation was clear. "I don't know yet," she admitted quietly, her voice soft but weighted with the gravity of her uncertainty. "There's a lot to think about."

Marvic nodded, his expression thoughtful but understanding. "Well, whatever you decide, I'm sure it'll be the right choice. No matter how long you stay, Aurelith will still be here when you're ready." He paused, his grin returning as he shifted the subject. "As for me," he continued, his tone lightening, "I won't be around Aurelith much longer. I've heard rumors of rare medicinal goods being shipped out of the East Indies, and a ship's leaving soon. I think it's time for a bit of adventure."

Felix, trailing just behind them, couldn't resist adding his own remark. His tone was playful, laced with the familiar teasing he often aimed at Marvic. "The East Indies, Marvic? Don't tell me you're already trying to escape us. Or is this just an elaborate excuse to avoid another humiliating defeat at cards?"

The bond Marvic and Felix had forged during the war had turned their banter into a constant, making even the heaviest moments feel a little lighter for Mirelith.

Marvic chuckled, a low, rich sound that blended effortlessly with the rhythm of their journey. "Let's call it a quest for knowledge, Felix. I need to learn about the rare herbs and remedies of the East. Besides," he added, his grin widening, "I need to get far enough away so I don't have to endure your terrible jokes."

"Terrible?" Felix gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over his chest. "You wound me, Marvic. Mirelith, back me up here—I'm a delight."

Mirelith smiled, shaking her head at Felix's theatrics. "I think 'delight' might be pushing it," she replied, her tone light but amused.

Felix clutched his chest dramatically as though struck by an invisible dagger. "Et tu, Mirelith? You too?"

Marvic couldn't help but laugh, though his eyes flickered in Felix's direction with a hint of caution. Meanwhile, Caius, who had been riding ahead with a silent and brooding presence, had been listening to the banter without so much as a word. His grip on the reins tightened slightly as he glanced back at the trio, his eyes narrowing when he saw the easy camaraderie between Mirelith and Marvic. The way they laughed, the way their words flowed so naturally, stirred something in him—something dark, something possessive. Without fully realizing it, he slowed his horse, guiding it deliberately into the middle of their group, breaking the line that had formed between Marvic and Mirelith.

The sudden movement startled them all, and Felix raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk spreading across his face as he looked at Caius. "Well, well, if it isn't our fearless leader, joining the commoners. To what do we owe the honor, Your Highness?" His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it now, a new level of curiosity that seemed to lurk beneath his jest.

Caius ignored him entirely, his attention solely on Mirelith. His voice, when it came, was low but firm, as if there were no room for argument. "You should stay in Aurelith," he said, his words cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere like a blade. "At least for a while. You've earned that much."

Mirelith's eyes flickered with surprise, her gaze shifting to him, before narrowing slightly. There was something about the way he said it—like a command, not a suggestion—that irked her, though she kept her expression carefully neutral. "I'll decide what I've earned, Caius," she replied, her tone measured but cool. "I don't need anyone to tell me that."

Felix, sensing the tension between them, glanced back and forth between Mirelith and Caius with an exaggerated expression of understanding. His smirk widened. "Ah, I see what's happening here," he drawled. "I'll just ride ahead and leave you lovebirds to it—"

"Felix," Marvic interrupted sharply, though his lips twitched with amusement at the unfolding drama. "Maybe we should scout ahead for any danger."

Felix burst out laughing, spurring his horse forward with a dramatic flourish. "Fine, fine, I'll leave you all to brood. Don't let me interrupt the scene," he called over his shoulder, his voice light, though his eyes lingered on Caius for a moment longer than usual.

Mirelith rolled her eyes, but her thoughts lingered on Caius's words. She could feel his presence beside her now—solid and unyielding, like a shadow that refused to be ignored. His silence, the way he had inserted himself so decisively into their conversation, gnawed at her. She didn't look at him again, though. She wasn't ready for whatever conversation he was trying to start. Not yet. She had enough to think about without adding him to the mix.

The gates of Aurelith stood wide open, a grand, welcoming archway framed by banners of deep crimson and gold. The streets beyond were alive with celebration, lined with cheering crowds that spilled into the main thoroughfare like a flood of joy. The sound was deafening—a cacophony of clapping, cheering, and the rhythmic pounding of drums. Children waved brightly colored flags, their laughter piercing the air, while petals of wildflowers rained down from windows above, a vibrant confetti of gratitude.

Mirelith's horse moved steadily beneath her, its steps purposeful as the convoy made its way into the city. She held her head high, her face a mask of calm, but her stomach churned with unease. Voices called out her name, mingling with the chants of "heroes" and "saviors." Flowers landed in her lap, some catching in her hair, and yet all she could feel was the weight of a city that had once turned its back on her.

They had exiled her. Banished her. Called her a traitor. And now they celebrated her as though she were a beacon of hope. The dissonance was jarring, cutting through her composure like a blade. She couldn't reconcile the warmth of their cheers with the cold rejection she had endured. Was this joy real, or was it as fragile and fleeting as the petals falling from the sky?

She stole a glance at Caius, who rode at the head of the procession. His expression was stoic, his shoulders squared as he waved to the crowd. There was no doubt he belonged here. The people loved him, their prince, their commander, their savior. But what about her? Could she ever truly belong in Aurelith again? Did she even want to?

The streets were lined with eager citizens, their cheers a mixture of gratitude and awe as Caius, draped in the regalia of a hero, led the parade. His presence was magnetic, and yet, amid the revelry, a palpable tension lingered in the air. Mirelith stood in the shadows of the palace, watching from a distance, her heart clenched with a mixture of admiration and resentment. The years had sharpened her, carving away the remnants of the girl she had once been. Gone was the naïve woman who had dreamed of love and loyalty; in her place stood a woman who knew better than to trust the illusions of glory.

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Mirelith rode through the towering gates of Elderglen just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the city's ancient stone walls. She had been gone for years, journeying across distant lands, forging herself anew in the fires of experience and hardship. And yet, as she passed through the familiar streets, everything felt untouched by time. Merchants still called out their wares, laughter still spilled from the taverns, and the scent of fresh-baked bread still carried on the wind.

But she was no longer the same girl who had left.

She made her way to the family estate, a grand yet quiet place nestled at the edge of Aurelith. As she stepped inside, a hush fell over the household, the servants staring in quiet disbelief before bowing deeply. The years had been long, and though she had sent letters, her return had been unexpected.

Her father stood in the grand hall, waiting for her.

The Duke of House Elderglen had aged since she left more than 5 years ago. His once dark hair was streaked with silver, his face lined with the weight of responsibility. But when his eyes met hers, they softened, and for a brief moment, he looked like the father she had left behind.

"Mirelith," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She hesitated only a moment before stepping forward. "Father."

To her surprise, he embraced her tightly. "You're home. Finally."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. "Yes."

Without another word, he led her up the grand staircase, past corridors lined with paintings of their ancestors, and to her old chambers. As she stepped inside, she felt a rush of nostalgia. Everything was untouched—her books still lined the shelves, the deep blue curtains still framed the tall windows, and her bed was just as she had left it.

Her father had preserved it all for her.

For the first time in years, Mirelith allowed herself to feel at ease. She changed out of her traveling clothes and sank into the familiar embrace of her bed. She had expected to struggle to find sleep, but exhaustion overtook her swiftly.

She awoke to the soft knock of a servant at her door. "My lady, an invitation has arrived for you."

Mirelith rose slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "An invitation?"

The servant handed her an elegantly sealed envelope, the crest of the royal house pressed into the wax.

Curious, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes skimmed the words, and her breath caught in her throat.

It was an invitation to the 3-day long Victory Celebration and the first night is a Royal Ball.

As evening fell, Mirelith stood before the grand mirror in her chambers, her reflection barely recognizable. She had donned a gown of midnight blue, its intricate embroidery catching the candlelight. The fabric draped elegantly around her frame, its regal cut a reminder of the world she had once belonged to.

Since her banishment she had never gone to one of lavish gatherings but tonight was different. Tonight, she would be stepping back into a world she had left behind, a world that had moved on without her.

And he would be there.

She shook the thought away as she descended the stairs. Her father was waiting at the entrance, dressed in his formal attire, a look of quiet pride in his eyes. "You look magnificent."

She smiled faintly. "Thank you, Father"

A carriage awaited them outside, its polished exterior reflecting the moonlight. As they rode through the streets toward the palace, Mirelith felt a strange mixture of anticipation and dread curling in her chest.

The palace loomed ahead, its golden towers glowing in the evening light. The grand hall was already bustling with nobility, the hum of conversation mingling with the delicate notes of a string ensemble. Chandeliers adorned with countless crystals cast a warm glow over the ballroom floor, where elegantly dressed figures moved in practiced steps.

Mirelith lingered near the edge of the room, her fingers brushing against the stem of a glass of wine she had barely sipped. She was content to observe, to let the evening pass without drawing attention.

But then, a hush swept through the crowd.

She turned instinctively toward the source of the disturbance. A soft, lilting melody began, the delicate notes pulling the dancers onto the floor. And there, stepping into the room like a vision from a distant memory, was Caius.

His entrance commanded the room, his confidence unmistakable, the polished gleam of his ceremonial armor catching the light. 

Their gazes met across the room, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Mirelith's pulse quickened, her heart betraying her with its sudden, erratic beat. His gaze lingered, uncertain, as if torn between duty and something else—a longing, perhaps, that still simmered beneath the surface of his composed exterior. He hesitated for the briefest moment before striding toward her, his steps purposeful, his intentions unreadable.

"Mirelith," he said, his voice low but steady, carrying with it a weight of something she couldn't quite decipher—was it regret? Longing?

"Your Highness," she replied, her voice even, though it felt hollow in her mouth. There was a time during the war when she had said his name without hesitation, when their bond had grown to not just something of a Knight Commander and medic. But that time had passed, and now formality was the only safe distance she could maintain.

"I'm not here for titles," Caius said, his voice softer, as though he understood the walls she had built between them. "Would you grant me this dance?"

The request sent a shock through her, a tremor of uncertainty racing through her veins. She wanted to say no. She wanted to retreat into the shadows where she could shield herself from the confusion he stirred in her. But something in his voice—a rawness, a vulnerability—stopped her. It was not a command, but a quiet plea, as though he, too, was lost in the labyrinth of what they had been and what they had become.

"One dance," she replied, her voice almost a whisper.

He led her to the center of the ballroom, and for a moment, the world around them faded. The crowd, the music, the noise—all of it seemed to vanish as they moved together, the rhythm of the dance a fragile tether binding them. His hand rested lightly on her waist, and hers found his shoulder, the contact so familiar and yet so foreign after all these years.

"You're as graceful as ever," he murmured, his voice gentle, laced with something she couldn't quite grasp.

Mirelith managed a faint smile, the words coming easily despite the weight of everything between them. "It's been years since I last danced."

His expression softened, a trace of something more in his eyes. "I find that hard to believe. You always made the impossible seem effortless."

Her heart skipped at the warmth in his tone, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe in the softness he offered. His gaze met hers, and in that instant, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them. "You are beautiful, Mirelith," he said, so quietly, so sincerely, that the words struck her like a blow.

The words shattered the carefully constructed walls around her, sending a torrent of emotions flooding to the surface. Her breath hitched, and she quickly averted her gaze, afraid of what might break free if she let herself feel too much.

As the music began to fade, Caius stepped back, his hand lingering on hers for just a moment longer. "Thank you for granting me this dance," he said, his voice soft, almost reverent. "I won't forget it."

Before she could respond, he bowed gently and stepped away, leaving Mirelith standing in the midst of the crowd, her thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. His touch still burned on her skin, his words echoing in her mind like a haunting melody.