A snowflake landed on Athena's golden hair, melting in defiance of the frigid wind. "Your mind seems troubled, Duke."

Theomund tilted his umbrella, shielding her from the snow. "You are as sharp as ever, Lady Athena."

Lady Athena's golden locks and canary yellow gown starkly contrasted with the winter landscape. Cloaked in a single layer of silken gown, she appeared unfazed by the chilling snows. She thanked Sir John, a knight who was assigned by the Duke to protect her, and requested him to depart, before turning her attention to the Duke. "What occupies your thoughts? Or should I say, who?"

"I'm flattered you'd taken such a keen interest in my affairs, Lady Athena." Duke Theomund calmly replied, his face betrayed no emotions.

Lade Athena’s golden eyes piercing through the Duke’s steely silver, "Of course, we are courting, are we not?"

"Lady Athena, the proposal remains a one-sided affair, does it not?"

"A valid point, Duke Theomund." she conceded. "Though I daresay the allure of an Imperial union transcends mere titles, even for a man of your esteemed stature." She paused, her gaze searching for Sir John again, before adding, "and besides, even if we were to wed, we could enjoy a certain degree of autonomy in regards to the affections of our hearts."

His jaw clenched. "I am a man of tradition, Athena. Such freedoms wouldn't be fair to either of us." 

"And yet, you could not help but think of her, could you? The maid who saved your life, the one with eyes that hold the secrets of the world."

The Duke's composure faltered. Eydis, a commoner, possessed a brilliance that rivalled even the Princess's. She was an open book, yet her depths remained shrouded in mystery.

He resisted the urge to return to the library, intrigued to what Eydis may think of his cherished literature. Curious to understand the hidden meaning behind her expressive brown eyes, veiled by a curtain of dark hair. Why did she shy away from revealing such beauty, even without the artifice of makeup?

He remembered Eydis, shrinking in fear every time he spoke. She tried to make herself as small as possible as she moved, afraid to stand out. He also remembered the same Eydis, standing tall and proud, defiant gaze piercing straight into his soul, pushing boundaries and playfully responding to his teasing. He, who had always considered flirtation a vulgar dance, found himself drawn to its melody when played by her.

He contemplated tracing the lines on her palm. Would she blush, or retreat into her shell? The question remained unanswered, until golden eyes pierced his musings. He blinked, caught in the act, "I apologise, Your Highness. My thoughts wandered."

Athena, her youthful defiance momentarily forgotten, narrowed her eyes. "Please refrain from calling me that, Your Grace. My true identity should remain a secret."

The Duke chuckled, a touch too bright. "My apologies, Your Highness. Though honestly, your lineage shines like those very jewels adorning you. Hiding royalty is like muffling a sunrise." Her golden eyes glistened like precious jewels, and her pure blond hair radiated divinity. She was a walking embodiment of royalty.

Athena, stung by his words, narrowed her eyes further. "Should I consider changing my appearance? My brothers wouldn't hesitate to drag me back if they got wind of this."

"That would be impossible, Lady Athena. There's no known means to mask our eye and hair colours, as they're reflections of our very essence. Yours, especially, aligned with the heads of the dukedoms themselves." He paused. "Besides, I doubt your family sleeps soundly in ignorance. Sylvanwood whispers, crows gossip, and rumours tend to have long ears."

Athena’s brows furrowed. "My magic shields me from such eavesdropping."

"Shields you from creatures, perhaps," the Duke countered, "but the whispers of men travel on the wind." His voice softened. "The question isn't if, but when they'll come for you, Princess. Are you ready for that storm?"

Theomund's words laced with unspoken meaning. Athena's lineage shimmered in her appearance, a mirror to the Emperor himself. Her brothers, blessed with their mother's earth-toned locks, still inherited the family's signature golden gaze. The Emperor had even considered Athena as his heir, but the throne was a gilded cage she'd fled to Silverkeep, seeking escape in a whimsical proposal to the Duke.

Athena's own desires were a tangled knot. Her parents' pronouncements of destiny felt like shackles, and the throne a prison. The Duke, ever patient, held another enigma: Eydis, the captivating maid who held a strange sway over him. 

Sir John, a Silverkeep loyal knight shadowing her, burned with an unspoken affection she reciprocated. Freedom, not a crown, was her prize. If marriage was her only key, she'd choose her own bargain.

Theomund's abrupt departure stung, leaving her alone with swirling thoughts. Perhaps Eydis held the key to understanding him, unlocking the secrets nestled within his enigmatic gaze.

**

Theomund found Eydis asleep in his library, bathed in the golden glow of dawn light streaming through the window. Relief washed over him, tinged with guilt at abandoning Princess Athena so abruptly. His gaze lingered on her, a mixture of fascination and admiration simmering within him. This unassuming maid, with her quick wit and unexpected bravery, had captivated his attention in ways no noble ever had. He yearned to unravel the secrets she kept hidden behind her quiet demeanour.

In his mind, the library dissolved, replaced by the quiet solitude of his study that fateful night. A chill gnawed at him, mirroring the tremor in Eydis' voice as she offered the coffee, her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. 

"Your Grace," she began, her voice barely a whisper, before a wave of raw energy crashed upon them. 

Panic surged through him. He conjured a metal barrier, a desperate shield against the encroaching darkness. But the venomous purple smoke, thick with malice, seeped through like a creeping tide. He found himself thrown back, landing hard beneath Eydis as the smoke engulfed her. Her body convulsed in agony, then stilled, leaving him cradling a lifeless shell.

Theomund thrust his spear, a blur of silver against the purple smoke. The witch spun, eyes like smouldering embers, her shriek tearing through the night. 

"You ruined everything!"

Purple smoke consumed her, ageing her considerably, leaving behind a wrinkled form. Relief flooded him, then choked in his throat as he cradled Eydis' limp form. Shame coiled around him, a serpent born of his failure to protect his land, his people, her.

Lionel's worried voice broke through the fog. "My Lord! Are you unharmed?" But Theomund could only hear the silence in his arms. 

Days bled into weeks, the silence in Eydis' room a constant reminder of his vulnerability. It was a tangled web of dark magic, woven with intentions exceeding their understanding. Some miracle, some twist in the weave, seems to have shielded Eydis from the full brunt of the curse.

****

Amelia jolted awake in the dead of night. Although she should have questioned how she ended up back in her own room, her mind was consumed by Eydis' final memories before her demise. The sensation of utter emptiness, as if her soul had scattered to the winds, was etched vividly in her memory. 

Tears welled up in her eyes, a wellspring of grief she hadn't thought herself capable of. Her heart ached for Eydis, a pitiable figure who had been marginalised throughout her entire existence. Even in death, she had not received the mourning she deserved, as her body was now possessed by another soul.

"I will remember you." Amelia whispered softly, closing her eyes to dream of Eydis and the life that might have been hers.