novelraw Chapter 179: THE SILENT NIGHT
Chapter 179: THE SILENT NIGHT
The festivities gradually subsided.
The sounds of laughter and music drifted away, replaced by the rhythmic footsteps of servants clearing away the remnants of the banquet. One by one, the crystal chandeliers in the main hall were extinguished, leaving only a dim, flickering glow in the corridors leading to the private chambers.
Rianor pushed Elara’s wheelchair through the quiet hallway. No one followed. No one dared to intrude. Grimm himself had ensured that no servants would cross this path tonight.
Finally, they reached the door.
Rianor opened it, steered Elara inside, and closed the heavy door with a soft click.
The room was bathed in warmth. A single crystal lamp on the ceiling glowed faintly, casting dancing shadows against the stone walls. In the center of the room, a grand bed with pristine white sheets awaited them. On a small side table, two glasses of wine and a plate of fresh red berries sat untouched—a preparation by Aurelia that no one dared refuse.
Rianor stopped beside the bed. He gazed at Elara for a moment before kneeling before her.
"I’m going to lift you," he said.
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request for permission. It was a simple statement of fact.
Elara didn’t answer. She only gripped Rianor’s shoulders tightly as her husband lifted her from the wheelchair with practiced gentleness—one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back.
Rianor lowered her onto the soft, cool sheets. Her crimson hair fanned out across the pillow. Her violet eyes looked up at him from below, slightly glistening, slightly trembling.
Rianor sat on the edge of the bed. He didn’t lie down immediately. He just sat there, watching her, his usually cold eyes now filled with a startling softness.
"Are you afraid?" he asked softly.
Elara bit her lip. "I... yes."
"Of what?"
"I don’t know." Her voice was barely a whisper. "Maybe... I’m afraid this is all just a dream."
Rianor smiled. He reached out to take her hand, squeezing it before pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles.
"This is no dream."
Elara took a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling. But she did not let go of his hand.
Rianor began to undo the buttons of his jacket. One by one. He didn’t rush. His eyes never left hers.
"Are you certain?" he asked.
Elara didn’t answer with words. She only nodded.
Then she looked down, her fingers idly playing with the edge of the duvet. "Rianor..."
"Yes?"
"Turn off the lights."
Rianor raised an eyebrow. "You don’t want to see me?"
"No." Elara let out a small, nervous laugh. "I’m just... shy."
Rianor smiled. He stood up and extinguished the crystal lamp by the bedside. The room plunged into darkness, save for the silver moonlight snaking through the gaps in the curtains.
He returned to her side.
Rianor moved closer. He didn’t touch her immediately. He simply lay beside her, staring at the dark ceiling. Silence reigned, but it wasn’t awkward. It just was.
"Elara," he said softly.
"Hmm?"
"I don’t quite know where to start."
Elara let out a soft giggle. "The great Rianor Sudrath doesn’t know where to start?"
"It’s my first time."
"Mine too."
They fell silent again. But the silence was comfortable.
Rianor turned onto his side to face her. His hand reached for her cheek, his fingertips tracing her skin with a feather-light touch.
"You are beautiful," he murmured.
Elara laughed again. "Did you only just notice?"
"I’ve known for a long time. I just never said it."
"Why not?"
"Because if I did, you’d become conceited."
Elara tapped his chest playfully. "I would not."
"You are right now."
They shared a quiet laugh in the darkened room, amidst the cool white sheets and the burgeoning warmth of their bodies.
Rianor leaned in. His forehead pressed against hers. Their breaths mingled in the cold Northreach air.
"Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you," he whispered.
"I know."
"I promise."
Elara didn’t reply. Her hands reached for Rianor’s shoulders, gripping him firmly.
Rianor kissed her forehead. Slowly. Long. He was in no hurry. His lips traveled to her temple, her cheek, and finally the corner of her mouth.
Elara closed her eyes, her breath hitching. Her fingers bunched the fabric of his shirt.
"Rianor..."
His name left her lips in a soft, barely audible breath.
"I’m here," he answered.
He kissed the corner of her lips, and then, her mouth.
It was gentle. Unhurried.
Elara returned the kiss, her arms winding around his neck, drawing him closer.
Rianor broke the kiss for a second, letting their breaths hitch together. "Are you sure?" he asked once more.
Elara didn’t answer. She simply pulled him back into the kiss.
This time, it was deeper. Longer.
Rianor allowed her fingers to reach the hem of his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one. He didn’t rush. He wanted her to see. He wanted her to know he wasn’t afraid to show himself to her.
"Rianor..." Elara bit her lip.
"Are you scared?"
"No." Her voice was small. "I just... don’t know where to look."
Rianor chuckled. "Anywhere."
"Aren’t you embarrassed?"
"No."
Elara covered her face with both hands. "I am."
Rianor gently pulled her hands away. "Don’t be."
"Easy for you to say."
"I’m right here."
Elara looked at him. Her eyes were wet, but she was smiling.
Rianor let his fingers trail toward the edge of Elara’s gown. He paused, looking at her, asking for permission without a word.
Elara nodded.
He undid the fastenings one by one. He wanted to memorize everything. The color of her hair under the moonlight. The way her fingers trembled on his shoulders. The way her breath quickened every time he touched her skin.
Finally, the gown fell away. Elara closed her eyes, her heart racing.
Rianor kissed her forehead again. "You don’t need to be afraid," he whispered. "I’m not going anywhere."
Elara didn’t answer. She reached for his back, holding him tight.
Rianor let his lips explore her neck. Slowly. Softly. He felt her pulse thrumming wildly against his lips. He felt her grip tighten every time he brushed against a sensitive spot.
"Rianor..." Elara bit her lip.
"Hmm?"
"Don’t stop."
Rianor lifted his head. He looked at her, his eyes overflowing with affection. "I won’t."
He kissed her again, letting his hands map out the body of the wife who was still trembling in his arms.
There were soft whispers. Ragged breaths. Small moans caught between kisses. Their fingers interlaced, gripping tight. Sometimes Elara bit her own lip, holding back a sensation she couldn’t explain. Sometimes Rianor would pause, checking on her, before continuing with even gentler movements.
The moonlight outside the window shifted slowly. Time lost all meaning.
No words were needed.
Morning light snuck through the curtains.
Elara woke first. She didn’t move. Her arm was still draped over Rianor’s waist. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, following the breath of her sleeping husband.
She studied his face.
The face that was usually cold, calculating, and rare to smile. Now it looked peaceful. Young. Like a child without a single burden.
Elara smiled.
She didn’t know how long she had been watching him. Perhaps minutes, perhaps longer. All she knew was that when Rianor opened his eyes, they met hers instantly.
"You’re awake?" Rianor’s voice was husky with sleep.
Elara beamed. "I didn’t want to miss this."
Rianor blinked. Then he smiled—a smile that was rare, one Elara had only seen a few times in their lives.
"Miss what? I was sleeping."
"That." Elara pointed to his face. "That expression. Not cold. Not stern. Just... peaceful."
Rianor watched her. "You think I’m stern?"
"Sometimes."
"I’m not stern."
"Sometimes you are."
Rianor sighed, but the corner of his mouth curved upward.
He leaned in, kissing her forehead once more before pulling her into a tight embrace.
"I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner," he muttered.
Elara giggled against his chest. "Because you’re an idiot."
"...What?"
"An idiot. Because it took you this long to realize."
Rianor went quiet. Then he laughed—a genuine, hearty laugh that Elara had never heard before.
"Yes," he said. "I am an idiot."
They laughed together in the silent morning, in the room still warm with their presence, in the bed that was still a mess of sheets.
From outside, the sounds of servants began to stir. But they didn’t care.
In the castle’s dining room, the atmosphere was quite different.
Breakfast was served on the long table. The aroma of warm bread and honey tea filled the air. But there was an empty chair.
Rianor’s chair.
Aurelia sat at the head of the table, staring at the empty seat with a smile she couldn’t hide. Lucian, beside her, merely shook his head, but his eyes were twinkling too.
Roland took a piece of bread, took a bite, and spoke with a forced air of innocence.
"Rianor isn’t down yet?"
Silence.
Raveena looked down, stifling a laugh. Raphael frowned in confusion. Riven chuckled. Rhea simply raised an eyebrow.
Rumina, who was halfway through a spoonful of porridge, stopped. "He’s still in his room."
"Oh? Is that so?" Roland chewed his bread slowly. "What could he possibly be doing in his room at this hour? Usually, he’s the earliest one up."
The silence grew deeper.
Raveena finally lost it. She covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with laughter.
Aurelia gave Roland a look that was hard to decipher. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t a rebuke. It was just... the look of a mother who knew exactly what was happening.
"Eat," Aurelia said.
Roland raised both hands in surrender. "I was just asking."
"Eat."
"Yes, Mother."
Raphael was still frowning. "So, what’s wrong with Brother Rianor?"
Riven patted his youngest brother’s shoulder. "You’ll understand when you’re older."
"But—"
"Eat."
Raphael pouted but obeyed.
At the end of the table, Aurelia smiled thinly as she sipped her tea. Lucian squeezed her hand briefly before letting go.
"Leave them be," Lucian whispered.
Aurelia nodded. "I haven’t said a word."
"You’ve been smiling this whole time."
"Am I not allowed to smile?"
Lucian didn’t answer. But he was smiling too.
On another continent, within the war room of the Iron Empire, the atmosphere was worlds apart.
The room was dark. Its black stone walls were illuminated only by steam-pressure lamps—thick glass tubes emitting an unstable, yellowish glow. Steam hissed from pipes snaking across the ceiling, occasionally bursting in short puffs like bated breath. The dim light danced across the faces of the six individuals standing around a circular table.
A courier knelt before them, his voice trembling.
"Your Majesty... General Rudigor has fallen... every commander in the 4th Division is dead. The army has been completely annihilated."
Silence.
No one dared to speak.
General I clenched his fists. General II was silent, his eyes moving rapidly as if calculating. General III merely shook his head. General V wore a thin smile that didn’t reach his eyes. General VI was scribbling in a small notebook without looking up. General VII showed no reaction at all.
Regulus was silent.
For a long time.
Then he spoke. His voice was calm. Too calm.
"All this time, I considered that continent a mere toy."
He stood up.
"It turns out, there is one territory that is... different."
He approached the table, his hand touching the map spread across it. His finger pointed south, toward a vast landmass separated by a sea of mist.
"Aethel-Terra."
The name left his mouth like a curse.
"We will return there," he said. "Not now. But one day."
He looked at his seven generals one by one.
"Gather our strength. Repair the ships. Train new troops. And this time..." He paused, his eyes narrowing behind the glass of his mask. "We will not underestimate them again."
The generals nodded. None dared to speak.
Regulus turned around. The fire behind him flared brightly, casting his massive silhouette against the stone wall.
"Aethel-Terra," he whispered. "I will remember it."
At Iron Hearth, the sun continued to rise.
Rianor and Elara finally came down. Their hair was still slightly damp, their clothes pristine, but there was something different in their expressions. Nothing needed to be explained.
Aurelia only smiled when she saw them enter. "Breakfast has gone cold."
"Forgive us, Mother," Rianor said.
Aurelia shook her head. "It doesn’t matter. I’ll have it warmed again."
She stood up and called for a servant. Roland caught Rianor’s eye, about to open his mouth, but Riven clapped him on the shoulder.
"Eat," Riven said.
Roland shut his mouth.
Rianor pulled out a chair beside Elara. Beneath the table, his hand found hers and gripped it tight.
Elara smiled.
Outside, the snow began to fall slowly. Softly. Silently. Like happiness that arrives when least expected.