Married To Darkness-Chapter 361: The Flash Truce Marriage.

This morning as Genevieve’s eyes fluttered open with her vision still hazy, she felt her body weighed down by exhaustion. A lovely exhaustion and an unfamiliar sensation between her legs.

Last night had been lovely, her mind brought the situation she was in and she felt a shiver of cold, But the warmth surrounding her was familiar. Strong, steady arms held her close, the scent of pine and steel filling her senses.

"You’re awake," Enid murmured, his voice low but relieved.

She blinked up at him, her throat dry. "Where...?"

"In my arms," he said with a small, humorless smile. "Where you always should be."

Genevieve swallowed hard. Reality crashed in. The truce. The wedding. The duty she had to fulfill. "It’s happening today, isn’t it?"

Enid nodded. "Yes. But I promised you something, didn’t I?" he had made a promise to her last night as they did the most intimate thing a man and a woman could do.

Her grip on his sleeve tightened. "That you’d stay with me."

"And I will," he vowed. "Even if it means stepping into Tackeros, I’ll follow you."

A shaky breath left her lips. "Thank you," she whispered.

They had no time to waste. Servants flooded into the room, dressing her in silk, draping jewels over her like chains. Enid, too, was prepared—standing tall beside her, his presence the only anchor she had. The palace halls blurred as they were led to the grand wedding chamber.

The moment she stepped inside, Genevieve barely acknowledged the foreign prince waiting at the altar. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

On him.

On the one person who should have been here.

Alaric.

She had convinced herself she didn’t care. That this was duty, nothing more. But as she walked down the aisle, her heart clenched with something bitter, something close to hate.

He didn’t come.

He was her favorite person, and he didn’t even show up.

The ceremony was over in an instant. Vows exchanged. A crown placed upon her head. Applause that rang hollow in her ears.

And then, just like that, they left—off to a kingdom that wasn’t hers, beside a husband she didn’t love, but with the only person who had never abandoned her.

Enid.

The golden carriage rumbled forward, its wheels rolling over the stone path, carrying Genevieve away from the only home she had ever known. Behind her, the castle stood tall, its towering spires now blurred by distance. The cheers of the people echoed through the air—some celebrating, some weeping, some too busy indulging in the wedding feast to care.

But amidst the grand farewell, in the heart of the palace, Queen Sansa trembled in her eldest son’s arms, tears streaming down her face.

"Mother..." Crown Prince Benjamin held her tightly, his strong grip barely containing his own sorrow.

"She’s gone," Sansa whispered, her voice breaking. "My Genevieve..."

Benjamin sighed, pressing his lips into his mother’s hair. "She will be alright, Mother. She’s strong."

"She shouldn’t have had to be," Sansa snapped, lifting her tear-streaked face. "She is my firstborn, my baby, and now she is—" Her breath hitched, and she gripped her son’s arms. "I should be there with her. I should go to her."

Benjamin tensed. "Mother, you know the laws. Queens do not travel to other kingdoms once they are wed."

"I don’t care!" Sansa’s voice rose, thick with desperation. "I will not let my daughter feel abandoned."

Benjamin sighed, smoothing a hand down her back. "Genevieve knew this day would come."

"I had a talk with her," Sansa whispered, staring off into the distance as if she could still see the carriage. "Before she left, I sat with her, held her hands in mine, and I told her..."

Earlier that morning—

The Queen’s chambers were dimly lit, golden light spilling through sheer curtains. Genevieve sat stiffly in a velvet chair while her mother knelt before her, something no Queen should do.

"Mother—" Genevieve gasped, trying to pull her up.

"Shh," Sansa cupped her daughter’s face, stroking her cheek. "Listen to me, my love. You are going somewhere unfamiliar, to people who do not love you yet. But never forget—you are my daughter. My flesh, my blood, my heart."

Genevieve’s throat bobbed as she tried to remain composed, but her mother’s hands were warm, safe, and she suddenly felt like a child again. "You... you can visit me, right?"

Sansa hesitated. "Queens do not visit their married daughters. It is forbidden."

Genevieve’s face fell.

"But listen to me," Sansa gripped her hands tightly, her eyes burning with defiance. "I am not just a Queen. I am your mother. And I swear to you, my love—I will come. No matter what it takes, I will find a way."

Genevieve blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill. "You... you promise?"

Sansa kissed her daughter’s forehead, letting her tears mix with her daughter’s skin. "I promise, Genevieve. I will see you again."

Back to the present—

Benjamin exhaled, rubbing his mother’s shoulders as she wept into his chest. "If anyone could break a rule and still be loved, it would be you, Mother."

Sansa chuckled weakly, wiping her tears. "She will trust me, won’t she?"

Benjamin nodded. "She always has."

Below them, in the palace courtyard, the people waved their handkerchiefs, cheering as the royal procession disappeared into the horizon. Some smiled, some wept, and others—well, they took advantage of the feast, already gorging themselves on roasted meats and fine wine.

But no matter how the kingdom reacted, one thing was certain.

Queen Sansa had sworn an oath.

And a mother’s oath could never be broken.

>>>>>>>>>>>

Back at Lucius’ mansion, the air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and candle wax. Alaric leaned over the large oak table, his sharp eyes scanning the old, weathered map Lucius had just unveiled from a heavy chest. The edges were frayed, the ink faded, but the details were clear enough to mark their next course of action.

"So this is it," Alaric murmured, his fingers tracing the intricate lines. "Our next destination."

Lucius stood beside him, arms crossed. "Wyfhaven. The seaside city."

"The exact place we need to go is Wyftide Docks," Alaric added, tapping a point on the map. "A bustling port where ships dock, and fishermen trade. If there’s any trace of our kind, of our origins, it’ll be there."

Lucius exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "I still remember nothing about who I was before I woke up in this world."

"And I never knew anything to begin with," Alaric admitted. He looked up, his blue eyes serious. "But this could be it. A real lead."

The tension that had settled between them earlier was now replaced by a renewed purpose. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

Salviana and Jean sat side by side, their earlier disagreements forgotten, as Lucius and Alaric presented the map to them. Salviana studied it with curiosity, while Jean’s fingers played with the hem of her sleeve, still feeling the weight of her earlier emotions.

"So, we’re leaving tomorrow?" Salviana confirmed.

"Yes," Alaric said. "We need to move quickly. And this time..." He shot a glance at Jean, his tone softer. "We all go together."

Jean hesitated, looking at Salviana.

"You’re important to Salviana," Alaric continued.

"To us," Salviana corrected immediately, her green eyes locking onto his.

Alaric pressed his lips together, then gave a small, almost reluctant nod. "To us."

A small, knowing smile tugged at Lucius’ lips, but he said nothing.

Jean exhaled, her shoulders finally relaxing. "Alright. We’ll go."

The mood in the room shifted. The bad energy that had clung to them like a heavy fog finally lifted. Apologies were exchanged, some through words, some through silent glances. The tension of the past few days melted away, replaced by anticipation for the journey ahead.

"We’ll travel by cart," Lucius said. "Alaric’s powers are useful, but disappearing into thin air all the time isn’t exactly safe. We don’t know what kind of eyes are watching."

Salviana nodded. "A cart works. Less conspicuous."

Alaric stretched his fingers over the map, then looked at the faces surrounding him. "Then we leave at dawn."

Excitement flickered in the air. Whatever lay ahead in Wyfhaven, they were ready to face it together.

As the group settled into the room, a sudden knock interrupted the moment.

Jaefel and Samion stood outside, their expressions serious but relaxed. "The rain’s coming in fast," Jaefel announced. "If you want to avoid getting soaked, it’d be wise to leave now."

Jean gasped. "Oh no! We haven’t even offered you all a drink!"

There was a brief silence. Then—laughter.

Lucius smirked, crossing his arms. "Now your plumpy ass remembers hospitality?"

Jean shot him a glare. "Lucius—"

"No, no, he’s got a point," Alaric added, barely suppressing a chuckle. "We’ve been here how long? And only now do you recall the basics of being a host?"

Jean huffed, crossing her arms. "Excuse me for being emotionally distressed."

Lucius grinned. "Pumpkin, you’re always distressed when food is involved."

Jean gasped in mock offense while Salviana covered her mouth, trying not to laugh too hard. "Lucius, stop bullying her."

Jean’s lips pursed. "I take it back. No drinks for anyone."

Samion sighed dramatically. "Well, that’s disappointing. I was looking forward to at least some wine." he’s a knight afterall.

Lucius shrugged. "Too bad, Pumpkin’s feelings got hurt."

Jean picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at him. Lucius, of course, dodged effortlessly, smirking all the while.

Alaric cleared his throat, glancing at the door. "As fun as this is, the rain isn’t going to wait for us to finish bickering."

Salviana nodded. "Right. Let’s get going before we’re stranded here for the night."

Jean muttered something about rude guests, but she followed the rest of them out, shaking her head as Lucius snickered behind her.