Chapter 11 - The Crown of Ivy
Six months later, the royal cathedral of Bellavere was filled with people once more, but the golden candles no longer trembled with fear. The high stone vaults were draped in garlands of white roses and green ivy, and the music that drifted up into the heavens was a triumphant anthem of peace.
The borders between the two kingdoms had been dismantled, the garrisons converted into trading posts where grain from Ardenfall was exchanged for the fine silks of Bellavere. King Odran had stepped down from the throne, retiring to the quiet coastal estates of the south, leaving the governance of his realm to a joint council led by his daughter and her husband.
Prince Elias stood at the altar, wearing a new navy coat trimmed with silver, his face bright with a relaxed, happy smile. Beside him stood his father, King Alistair, looking older but healthier than he had in years, his eyes shining with pride.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the nave swung open.
The crowd stood, but nobody gasped. Nobody held their breath in terror.
Princess Seraphine walked down the crimson carpet, her train flowing behind her like moonlight across a midnight sky. She wore the same cream lace gown, the silver threads gleaming under the sunbeams streaming through the stained-glass windows.
Her face was completely uncovered. Her dark hair was braided with silver ribbons and crowned with a simple wreath of fresh green ivy. Her violet eyes were fixed entirely on Elias, her smile so bright it seemed to dim the golden candles along the walls.
She reached the altar, and this time, when Elias offered his arm, she took it without a second's hesitation, her warm, soft fingers wrapping firmly around his sleeve.
"You look beautiful, Your Highness," Elias whispered as they turned to face the priest.
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"And you look like a man who is glad he didn't break the latch," she replied, her voice a sweet, private melody meant only for him.
The priest raised his hands, pronouncing them not just partners in a treaty, but companions for eternity. As the bells of Bellavere began to ring out across the mountains, loud and clear, the people finally breathed—not out of fear, but with the joy of a dawn that had finally come to stay.
