Married To Darkness-Chapter 354: Meaning Of Alaric And It’s Banning.

Salviana went to their budding flower garden and bent there with all the emotions she was feeling.

Alaric joined her.

The garden was quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the protective nets stretched over the budding flowers. The tiny sprouts, fragile yet determined, pushed through the damp soil — a tender sign of life, of hope.

Salviana crouched low, her fingers brushing the delicate leaves as if her touch alone could will them to grow. Her breaths were steady but shallow, each exhale carrying the weight of worry and frustration.

She didn’t hear Alaric approach at first — not until his shadow blended with hers in the dimming light.

"Leave us," she murmured to the guards standing at a polite distance. They obeyed, their footsteps retreating into the castle’s stone halls. Moments later, a maid appeared with a tray of snacks, asking softly about dinner. Salviana shook her head.

"Not yet."

The maid disappeared as swiftly as she came.

Silence settled again — but it wasn’t empty. It was heavy, tangled with unspoken words.

Alaric knelt beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. "The rain will help them grow," he said softly, his voice low and cautious. "Just like we planned."

She nodded, her gaze still fixed on the tiny green stems. "At least something’s going right."

He reached for her hand, but stopped short — unsure. "Salviana," he said gently. "Jean will be found."

Her jaw tightened, but she gave a small nod.

Alaric exhaled, his tone a bit rougher now, the words slipping out like a plea. "We shouldn’t fight, not like this... Everyone already hates us."

That broke her stare. Salviana turned to him, eyes softening even as a tear mixed with the raindrops on her cheeks. "I know."

He dared to touch her then, his hand warm against the small of her back.

"And I’m sorry," she whispered. "For dismissing your feelings earlier. For acting like your fear — your pain — didn’t matter when I was gone."

Alaric’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "Thank you for trying," he rasped.

Salviana blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly.

"I never would have gotten to you if you hadn’t broken the barrier," he admitted, his voice raw. "You saved yourself before I could."

Her mouth twitched into a small, tired smile. "I knew you were coming," she said softly. "I just couldn’t wait."

Alaric chuckled — a broken, quiet sound — before pulling her into him. She leaned against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the rain still falling, the flowers still growing.

And for a moment, there was nothing but them — their hurt, their hope — and the promise of finding Jean.

The wind stirred softly, rustling the tender leaves in the budding garden, and with it came a memory. Salviana closed her eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze carry her back—just a few days earlier—when the world had felt simpler.

They had been outside beneath the soft glow of the evening sun, the sky painted with streaks of orange and pink, the air fresh with the scent of wildflowers. The gentle hush of twilight had wrapped around them like a delicate veil.

"Eat up, we’re going home," Alaric had said, his voice steady yet warm as his gaze lingered on Salviana.

She had giggled softly, a playful lilt in her voice. "Yes, third prince."

His eyes had narrowed — a teasing threat masked behind a faint smirk. "Call me by my name."

Salviana tilted her head, her curiosity sparking at the challenge in his tone. "Can you finally tell me why your name was banned?"

For a heartbeat, Alaric didn’t answer. His face, so often a mask of calm authority, had flickered with something deeper — a shadow of the past. His silence spoke louder than words until he finally replied, his voice even but laced with an edge.

"Because it means ’the ruler of all.’"

Her brows had drawn together. "The ruler of all?" she echoed softly.

"Yes." His gaze drifted to the horizon, his jaw tight with unspoken history. "The noble ruler. My mother spelled it out clearly — she wanted me to be called Alaric when I was born. She was queen, and it was a written rule. My name was to carry weight, to symbolize what she envisioned for me." His voice lowered, roughening as if the words themselves were sharp. "But after her fall — after she..." He broke off, drawing in a slow, controlled breath. "The king — my uncle — was jealous. He feared the power behind my name, the implications of what I could become. So, when he seized the throne, the name was forbidden in court and across the kingdom. I became the third prince — and nothing more."

The sky had dimmed, but Salviana could still see the flicker of pain in his stormy eyes, the unyielding pride beneath his calm exterior. His name was more than just a title — it was a lost crown, a buried legacy.

She had reached for his hand, her fingers brushing his with deliberate softness. "It’s a strong name," she had whispered, her voice steady. "And it suits you."

Alaric’s gaze had snapped to hers, surprise flickering across his face like a spark in the dark.

"Does it?"

"Yes." She smiled — not teasing now, but tender. "You’re the noble ruler of this heart at least."

For a moment, the heavy air between them had broken — softened by the quiet promise in her words.

And then he had chuckled, a low, genuine sound that had sent warmth blooming in her chest.

The memory faded as the wind slowed, leaving Salviana in the present once more, the rain pattering gently on the protective nets over the garden. But the echo of Alaric’s name — and all it meant — still lingered in her heart.

Moments later,

Dinner had been quiet — a lingering silence between them, not from anger, but from something heavier. Unspoken words. Unanswered questions. The rain continued its soft drumming against the windows, a steady rhythm that filled the space where their voices should have been.

When they finally climbed into bed, the room was cloaked in a dim hush, the faint scent of lavender clinging to the air. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting only a soft glow across the dark silk sheets.

Salviana moved first.