The Duke's Reluctant Bride

A past lingered in someone's dream. Snow drifted from the gray sky in soft, lazy spirals, blanketing the earth in unbroken stillness. A lone figure stood at the edge of the hill, the small house behind her casting a long shadow across the snow. Beneath her boots, the snow crunched faintly.

Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, dusted with delicate flecks of white. The icy wind tugged at her fur-lined cloak, embroidered with gold, but she remained still, unbothered by the chill. There was a heaviness in her stance—a quiet stillness weighted with memory.

Behind her, the soft creak of a door broke the silence. Another woman stepped into the cold, her boots pressing gently into the fresh snow. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders, her cyan hair neatly tucked beneath it, her breath misting in the air. She hesitated for a moment, watching the figure from a distance. When she finally recognized who it was, she approached with quiet steps.

"It must be cold to stand out here for long," the woman said, her voice gentle but formal. She hesitated before adding, "Lady Mage... Alysanne." Then, she dipped her head slightly in deference.

Alysanne didn't answer right away. She remained still, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if searching for something beyond reach. The silence stretched between them, and the woman shifted slightly, the snow crunching beneath her weight.

At last, Alysanne turned just enough for her golden eyes to catch the light beneath the fringe of her bangs, which fell softly over her brow. Her features held a cool beauty, shaped by hardship yet softened by an unspoken kindness.

"My apologies. I was only thinking," Alysanne said finally, her voice low and calm, laced with both weariness and grace. "And no, the cold does not bother me."

The woman nodded, relaxing slightly. "I see. But you think too much, Lady Mage." She hesitated before stepping closer, her tone shifting to something warmer. "A blizzard is coming to Wintermere today. My house may not be grand, but you're welcome to stay if you wish."

Alysanne turned fully to face her. The golden light in her eyes dimmed slightly, though her expression remained composed. "Thank you, Rebecca."

Rebecca smiled, but it faltered when she saw the shadow lingering behind Alysanne's calm exterior. "What is it that troubles you?"

For a long moment, Alysanne said nothing. She glanced at the horizon before speaking, her voice quieter now, as if confessing a long-buried truth.

"I was born... different," she murmured. "Bearing this power." The word was heavy on her tongue. "It is not the gift from the gods that most believe it to be. It does not grant us what we truly desire, nor does it protect those we love."

Rebecca tilted her head slightly, patient but uncertain.

Alysanne's gaze remained steady, her golden eyes shadowed. "Despite all my strength, I had accomplished so little. In the moments that mattered most, I failed. I could not even protect those I held dearest." Her voice wavered, but she did not allow herself to break. "What a worthless mage I am." The last words escaped her lips in a whisper, bitter and raw.

Rebecca stepped closer, her brow furrowing as she placed a gentle hand on Alysanne's shoulder. "Lady Alysanne," she said softly, her voice steady, "you are far from worthless."

Alysanne looked up at her, surprised by the warmth in her tone. For the first time, her composure faltered, and a flicker of vulnerability surfaced in her golden eyes.

"You cannot save everyone," Rebecca said, her voice firm yet kind. "But that does not make you powerless. Those people who fought alongside you—they fought for what they believed was right, and they did not die with regrets. They made their choices, knowing the risks, and they would not want you to carry the weight of their loss as failure. And you... you have saved more than you know. You saved us, and we owe you our lives."