Ancestral Lineage

Ethan's golden eyes scanned the approaching entourage with a calm intensity, their faint glow betraying the calculations running through his mind. A subtle smile tugged at his lips—not of mockery, but of acknowledgement. He was assessing them, weighing their strengths, feeling their presence like a seasoned predator watching another enter its territory.

Standing proudly before him was Regnare, his posture tall and unwavering. His silver-white hair caught the waning sunlight, and the glint of his ornate armor added to the brilliance of the moment. His wolf ears twitched slightly, alert to every sound, while the dark-blue dragon horns curving back from his head were impossible to ignore. His dark blue eyes shimmered with quiet power as a small, knowing smile formed—an echo of his father's.

"You can sense it, eh?" Ethan's voice echoed in Regnare's mind, smooth and composed.

"Yeah. They're strong. Especially… the Queen," Regnare responded inwardly, his aura beginning to flare instinctively. But before it could rise too high, Ethan swiftly suppressed it with a wave of mental control, masking it with his own presence to avoid provocation.

Then Ethan felt it—a sharp, piercing gaze like a blade against skin. It was focused not on him, but on Regnare. He followed it, his eyes narrowing as they met another pair through the soft shimmer of a silver mask. Queen Emma. Her presence radiated cold dignity, and though her expression was hidden, her glowing sapphire eyes behind the mask burned with interest… and challenge.

"Hmm? He noticed me?" Queen Emma mused, a flicker of intrigue passing through her mind.

In response, she unfurled her aura, a glacial force that blanketed her entourage like a blizzard's embrace. It was protective, powerful, and commanding.

Ethan didn't flinch.

With an effortless breath, he let his own aura surge—warm, radiant, yet dangerously forceful. It swept over his family, coiling protectively around them as it met Queen Emma's frost head-on. The two forces clashed in the invisible space between them, sending ripples through the air, like heat colliding with winter.

For a brief moment, the battlefield was silent—two sovereign powers locked in an unseen dance of dominance and mutual recognition.

And then… calm.

As the invisible clash of auras settled like dust after a storm, a tranquil tension hung in the evening air. The golden sky bathed the land in its final warmth, casting long shadows behind both delegations. The stillness broke as Ethan stepped forward, the royal mantle flowing behind him like rippling fire.

His golden eyes no longer glowed, but they held the same weight—an emperor's gaze tempered by wisdom and experience. Beside him stood Empress Harley, radiant and graceful, her presence like a soothing melody that tempered the intensity of the moment. Behind them, members of the Anbord royal family stood in quiet formation, each a symbol of pride and power.

The Fenrir entourage came to a graceful halt, their formation crisp and disciplined. The warriors were tall and fur-clad, bearing frost-carved weapons and expressions carved from stone. Their cloaks fluttered gently in the breeze, some etched with symbols of ice-bound wolverine runes. The air around them seemed several degrees colder—an ambient effect of their land's frigid bloodline. The M|V|LE&MPYR team worked hard on this chapter.

And then she stepped forward.

Queen Emma moved like a blade sheathed in silk. Her tall figure, draped in a flowing cloak of deep sapphire and frost-white, exuded both grace and power. Her silver mask, intricate and elegant, hid her features but not the gleam in her eyes. When she finally removed it, the assembled royals of Anbord beheld her face—sharp, regal, and beautiful in a way that felt as distant as a snow-covered peak. Her skin held a pale luster, her dark lips like a frozen rose, and her sapphire eyes shone with cunning and composure.

Ethan extended his hand.

"Queen Emma of Fenrir," he said with steady warmth. "Welcome to Anbord. May this gathering mark the beginning of lasting bonds between our lands."

Queen Emma regarded the hand for only a breath before taking it in hers—her grip firm and ice-cool, but not unfriendly.

"Emperor Ethan of Anbord," she replied, her voice smooth and resonant, like a harp string plucked in a quiet hall. "Your land is warmer than I expected… in more ways than one."

A small chuckle rippled through the Anbord entourage, lightening the mood.

Regnare stepped forward next, bowing slightly as protocol demanded. "Crown Prince Regnare," he said. "On behalf of the royal family, we are honored by your presence."

One of Fenrir's warriors whispered something to Queen Emma, but she simply nodded, eyes never leaving Regnare. "So this is the young prince," she said aloud. "I've heard tales of your strength."

Regnare met her gaze with confidence. "And I've heard of your ice storms. I hope you find our sun more agreeable."

For a moment, her lips curved in the slightest smile.

Servants appeared from either side, offering a ceremonial bowl of fire-warmed wine—a tradition of Anbord hospitality. Queen Emma accepted it gracefully, raising it slightly in acknowledgment before sipping. Ethan did the same, and a soft breeze carried the scent of spiced plum and honey through the courtyard.

With formal greetings complete, Ethan stepped aside and gestured toward the palace steps. "Please, you must be weary from your journey. Let us guide you to your chambers. Tomorrow, the Council convenes. Tonight, you are guests of the empire."

Queen Emma inclined her head. "Then we accept your hospitality."

And so, beneath the deepening amber sky, the royal families of Fenrir and Anbord ascended the steps together. Silent observers watched from the towers above, and across the land, whispers spread—of an alliance born in twilight, and of powers converging under one roof.

...

Unknown to everyone, a powerful and inexplicable bond had stirred in the depths of Ethan, his wives, and Queen Emma. It wasn't just magic or instinct—it was something older, deeper. A resonance of soul and fate. Yet, they all masked it behind the elegant poise of royalty, never letting their gazes linger too long or their emotions betray them.

As Queen Emma walked silently behind her entourage, their boots crunching lightly against the polished stone, her mind was far from the grand corridors of the palace.

Her pulse raced.

He's the one…

The thought echoed like a chant in her head, unrelenting and charged with emotion. Her breath caught ever so slightly as she recalled the weight of Ethan's aura—commanding, ancient, and painfully familiar. It stirred something primal within her.

A soft blush crept across her high cheeks, a rare and dangerous vulnerability for someone so composed. A bead of sweat traced down her temple, not from the warmth of Anbord, but from the heat coiling in her chest.

I need to see him again… soon.

Her steps never faltered, but her fingers curled slightly beneath her cloak.

Tomorrow isn't fast enough.