As the council meeting loomed closer, Easton and Marlowe worked tirelessly to uncover the full extent of the betrayal. Through discreet conversations with loyal guards and trusted advisors, they pieced together the plot: Lord Frederick had gained the favor of several nobles by promising them greater power and influence in exchange for their support in deposing Easton.
"He’s been planning this for months," Marlowe muttered as they poured over documents in Easton’s private chamber. "While you were away, he was solidifying his hold on your court."
Easton clenched his fists. "I should have seen this coming."
Marlowe placed a hand on his arm. "You trusted them. That isn’t weakness."
Before he could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. One of Easton’s most loyal knights, Sir Gregor, entered swiftly, his face grave.
"My King, we’ve uncovered something troubling," he said. "Frederick isn’t just planning to depose you—he intends to have you executed the moment he takes the throne."
Marlowe’s breath caught. "They won’t just exile you. They want you dead."
Easton’s eyes darkened. "Then I’ll make sure they never get the chance."
The Council Meeting
The grand hall of Drach Castle was filled with tension. Nobles and advisors sat in a semi-circle, with Frederick and Cedric standing at the forefront, confidence radiating from them. Easton entered with Marlowe at his side, his expression unreadable.
"The council is gathered," an elder noble announced. "King Easton, you stand accused of incompetence and recklessness, endangering the stability of this kingdom."
Frederick stepped forward. "Drach needs a ruler who understands diplomacy and order. You are young, impulsive, and easily swayed by foreign influences." His eyes flickered to Marlowe. "You are unfit to rule."
Marlowe wanted to lash out, but Easton spoke first.
"Unfit?" His voice was calm, controlled. "I have defended this kingdom from threats both within and beyond its borders. I have kept our alliances strong. And yet, the true traitors stand here before me, plotting to overthrow their rightful king."
Murmurs spread through the room.
"Do you deny the accusations against you?" Frederick challenged.
Easton smirked. "No. Instead, I bring my own."
With a signal, Sir Gregor entered, dragging a bound noble behind him—one of Frederick’s closest allies. The man struggled, but Gregor held firm.
"This man confessed to conspiring with Frederick to assassinate me upon my removal," Easton declared. "And he is not the only one. More evidence will come to light. You do not seek to save Drach—you seek to seize it for yourselves."
Gasps filled the room. Some nobles looked at Frederick with uncertainty.
Frederick’s confidence wavered. "Lies—"
"Enough," a senior noble interrupted. "These are serious claims. We will not make a decision today. An investigation must be conducted."
Frederick’s jaw clenched, knowing his plan was unraveling.
Easton stepped closer. "You tried to take my throne. You failed. Be ready for the consequences."
The council adjourned, leaving the fate of the traitors uncertain.
As Easton and Marlowe exited the hall, she looked up at him. "We won this round."
Easton exhaled. "And we’ll keep winning. Together."
Marlowe smiled. "Always."
After the Council Meeting
With the council shaken and an investigation underway, Easton and Marlowe retreated to his chambers to discuss their next moves. They knew Frederick wouldn’t go down without a fight.
"I don’t trust him to wait for the council’s decision," Marlowe said, pacing the room. "If he’s desperate enough, he might try to act before the verdict is given."
Easton nodded. "We need to be prepared for anything."
A knock interrupted their conversation. Sir Gregor entered again, his expression tense. "My King, Lord Frederick has disappeared from the castle. His men are gone as well."
Marlowe’s stomach dropped. "He’s running?"
Gregor shook his head. "It’s more than that. We believe he’s gathering forces outside the city. He might try to take Drach by force."
Easton’s expression hardened. "Then we prepare for war."
The Night Before Battle
The castle was a whirlwind of activity as soldiers armed themselves, defenses were fortified, and scouts reported Frederick’s growing army.
In the quiet of Easton’s private chamber, Marlowe stood by the window, looking out over the city. She felt Easton approach behind her, his warmth radiating through the cool night air.
"You should rest," he murmured.
She turned to face him. "So should you."
They stared at each other for a long moment before Easton finally said, "I’m not afraid to fight. But I am afraid of losing you."
Marlowe reached for his hand, squeezing it. "Then don’t. Stay alive. Win this. And after, we’ll finally have peace."
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "Promise me you won’t do anything reckless."
Marlowe smirked against his shoulder. "I make no such promises."
He sighed but chuckled. "Of course you don’t."
As the city braced for battle, the two stood together, knowing that no matter what happened, they would fight for each other—and for the future they both dreamed of.
The Battle for Drach Begins
As dawn broke over Drach, the city walls were lined with Easton’s forces, ready for war. Lord Frederick’s army loomed in the distance, banners waving as they prepared to march on the kingdom.
Easton stood at the front, dressed in full armor, his sword strapped to his waist. Marlowe, refusing to stay behind, had donned armor as well, her hair braided tightly as she stood beside him.
"Last chance to back out," Easton muttered.
Marlowe smirked. "Not happening."
Sir Gregor approached swiftly. "Frederick’s forces are making their move. Our scouts say he’s planning a direct assault on the gates."
Easton exhaled sharply. "Then we meet them head-on."
The Clash of Steel and Fire
The battlefield erupted as Frederick’s forces charged. Arrows darkened the sky, swords clashed, and war cries filled the air. Easton fought fiercely, cutting through enemies with precision, his eyes constantly scanning for Frederick.
Marlowe fought at his side, quick and ruthless. She had trained for this moment, and she wasn’t about to let Frederick win.
Then, she saw him—Frederick, mounted on a black steed, cutting his way through the battle toward Easton.
"Easton! There!" she shouted, pointing toward Frederick.
Easton turned just as Frederick reached him. Their swords met with a resounding clash.
"You think you can take everything from me?" Frederick snarled.
"You did that to yourself," Easton shot back, pushing against his blade.
The battle raged on around them, but at this moment, it was just the two of them.
The Final Strike
Frederick was strong, but Easton was stronger. With a final, decisive strike, Easton disarmed him, sending his sword flying. Frederick stumbled back, falling to his knees.
Marlowe rushed forward, pointing her blade at Frederick’s throat. "Surrender," she commanded.
Frederick glared at them both, breathing heavily. Then, in one last desperate move, he reached for a hidden dagger—
But before he could strike, Easton drove his sword through Frederick’s chest.
Frederick gasped, his eyes wide with shock. He coughed once, then collapsed, lifeless.
The battlefield fell silent.
Then, a cheer rose from Easton’s army. The battle was over.
A New Beginning
As the sun set over Drach, Easton and Marlowe stood together on the castle walls, looking out at their kingdom.
"It’s over," Easton murmured.
Marlowe nodded. "But the real work begins now."
He turned to her, taking her hand. "Then we’ll do it together."
Marlowe smiled, squeezing his hand tightly. "Together."
And as the stars began to twinkle above, Easton pulled her into a deep embrace, holding on to the one person who had stood by him through it all.
_
Marlowe was sent back to her kingdom.
Back in Everthorns, Seraphine sat in her chambers, staring out at the moonlit garden. The news of Frederick’s fall had reached them, but her mind was elsewhere—on a secret she had kept hidden for far too long.
A soft knock at her door made her tense. “Come in,” she called.
The door creaked open, revealing Marlowe. “You’ve been quiet all evening,” Marlowe said, stepping inside. “Something’s bothering you.”
Seraphine hesitated. She had always been the quiet, observant one, but now the weight of her secret was suffocating.
“Marlowe,” she finally said, voice barely above a whisper, “I need to tell you something.”
Marlowe’s brow furrowed as she sat beside her younger sister. “What is it?”
Seraphine took a deep breath. “I—I know something about our family… about Mother.”
Marlowe stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Seraphine swallowed hard. “I overheard a conversation between Father and Mother months ago. It was about you… and your engagement to Easton.”
Marlowe’s heart pounded. “What did they say?”
Seraphine’s hands clenched into fists. “It wasn’t just about politics, Marlowe. Mother never wanted you to marry for love. She wanted you to suffer the way she did. She… she planned everything.”
Marlowe felt the air leave her lungs. “What?”
Seraphine looked away. “She wanted to use you to fulfill her revenge. Against Father. Against the past. Against… herself.”
Marlowe sat frozen, her mind racing. Everything suddenly made sense—the pressure, the arranged engagement, the way their mother had manipulated every move.
Seraphine grabbed her hand. “I didn’t know if I should tell you. But you deserve the truth.”
Marlowe squeezed her sister’s hand, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. “Thank you,” she whispered.
A heavy silence filled the room. Then, Marlowe’s eyes hardened with resolve.
“No more.”
Seraphine looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
Marlowe stood, her jaw set. “Mother’s control ends now.”
Seraphine’s eyes widened. “What are you going to do?”
Marlowe turned to the door. “I’m going to face her.”
_ 
Marlowe Confronts the Queen
Marlowe stormed through the dimly lit halls of Everthorns Castle, her heart pounding. The weight of Seraphine’s revelation burned inside her, fueling each step. She had always known her mother was strict, but this? This was calculated cruelty.
Reaching the Queen’s chambers, Marlowe didn’t bother to knock. She pushed the doors open, startling Queen Evera, who was seated by the fireplace, a book in her hands. The flickering light cast long shadows across her face.
Evera raised an eyebrow. “Marlowe? What is the meaning of this?”
Marlowe took a deep breath, forcing her emotions under control. “I know the truth.”
The Queen’s expression remained calm, but her fingers tightened around the book. “Truth? What truth are you referring to, child?”
Marlowe stepped closer. “That my engagement was never about strengthening the kingdom. It was about your revenge. Against Father. Against the past.” Her voice wavered. “Against me.”
Evera closed the book, exhaling sharply. “So… you finally understand.”
Marlowe’s stomach twisted. There was no denial. No attempt at sweet lies.
“You used me,” she continued, fists clenching at her sides. “You wanted me to suffer, just like you did. To be trapped in a marriage not of my choosing.”
The Queen stood slowly, her regal presence unwavering. “Suffer?” she scoffed. “You think this is suffering? You are lucky, Marlowe. You have power. Choice. A man who actually cares for you. That is more than I ever had.”
Marlowe’s throat tightened. “Then why? Why did you try to control my life?”
Evera’s eyes darkened. “Because love is a weakness. I loved someone once, and it cost me everything.”
Marlowe took a shaky breath. “That wasn’t my fault.”
Evera’s gaze softened—just for a second. “No,” she admitted. “It wasn’t.”
Silence stretched between them. For the first time, Marlowe saw not just a Queen, not just a cold-hearted woman, but a mother who had been broken long before Marlowe was born.
But that didn’t excuse what she had done.
“I will marry Easton,” Marlowe said firmly. “Because I choose to. Not because of you.”
Evera stared at her for a long moment before giving a small, humorless chuckle. “You have your father’s stubbornness.”
Marlowe lifted her chin. “And your fire.”
A flicker of pride crossed Evera’s face before she masked it with indifference. “Do what you will, then.”
Marlowe turned to leave, but before stepping out, she paused.
“I hope one day, you let go of the past, Mother,” she whispered.
Then she walked away, leaving Queen Evera alone with her thoughts, staring into the dying fire.
Marlowe's Request to King Alden
The morning sun streamed through the grand windows of Everthorns Castle as Marlowe stood before her father in the throne room. King Alden studied his daughter carefully, his hands resting on the arms of his throne.
"You wish to take your sister to Drach?" he repeated, his voice steady.
Marlowe nodded firmly. "Yes, Father. Seraphine has been taking care of Hadrian's son for over a year now. I believe a change of scenery will do her good. She’s fifteen—old enough to see more of the world and learn beyond the castle walls."
Alden stroked his beard in thought. "And you believe Easton's court will accept her presence?"
Marlowe straightened. "Easton himself has already welcomed the idea."
The King sighed, glancing toward the Queen’s empty seat. He knew Evera would oppose it, but after last night’s confrontation, he also knew that Marlowe was no longer a child to be controlled.
"Very well," he said at last. "You may take Seraphine with you. But she remains under your protection, Marlowe. If anything happens to her—"
"I will take full responsibility," Marlowe assured him.
Alden's lips pressed into a thin line before he nodded. "Then you have my blessing."
Marlowe smiled, bowing slightly. "Thank you, Father."
As she turned to leave, a small voice echoed from the hallway.
"Wait!"
Seraphine stood there, breathless, eyes wide with excitement. "You mean it? I get to go with you?"
Marlowe grinned. "Yes, little sister. We're going to Drach."
Seraphine squealed in delight, running forward to hug her. King Alden watched them with a rare, small smile before waving them off.
"Go prepare for your journey," he said.
And with that, Marlowe and Seraphine began packing for their new adventure in Easton’s kingdom.
.