Chapter 6

SONG VIBE: Lie - BTS (Jimin)

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SAPHIRA

Cathedra Aeternum, Renatus

As they reached the bottom of the steps, even the horse appeared unnerved as it eyed Nocturne's imposing frame. The valet opened the door for them.

Nocturne shook his head. “This is one of your traditions I refuse. In the mountains, carriages are for the infirm.”

Saphira blinked, caught off guard. “You expect me to...?” Her voice faltered. “In front of everyone? Renatii women, we don’t—”

Nocturne whistled, his sharp call cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. From the shadows, his squire, Aurelian stepped forward, leading a midnight black destrier. The horse was a formidable beast, its massive form towering over everyone—muscles like an ox, bones thick and sturdy, its arched neck holding a regal, almost intimidating posture.

Nocturne’s gaze never wavered as he beckoned her forward. “Come on, now.”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she said, "I'm a woman, in Renatus..." Saphira hesitated. “I’ve... never been in a saddle before.”

His umber eyes darkened. “You’re my wife.”

Before she could protest further, Nocturne swept her up effortlessly. In a single motion, he set her upon the massive horse, her body awkwardly positioned side-on, her legs hanging uncertainly.

From the steps of the cathedral, gasps of disbelief and horror rang out as the onlookers processed the scene. A Renatii guard rushed forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but Aurelian moved swiftly to intercept him, holding him back with a silent gesture.

The moment hung heavy in the air, the eyes of everyone trained on Saphira.

She let out a small squeak, her fingers scrambling for something to hold onto. She grabbed the stallion’s mane, but the beast only gave an irritated nicker in response. Nocturne’s hand wrapped around hers, firmly guiding it to the saddle. His touch was steady and reassuring, but there was something about the way his fingers brushed against hers that made her skin burn. With little ceremony, he bundled the train of her dress and tossed it over her side, efficient and unbothered.

He mounted behind her, his presence solid and commanding. One hand grasped the reins, the other settled at her waist. Saphira’s breath caught in her throat as his touch sent a wave of heat through her. Her chest tightened, and she stilled herself, afraid that any movement might disturb the delicate balance.

I’ve never been held like this before, she thought, feeling his muscles ripple beneath her fingertips. Will he be angry if I move?

Nocturne’s voice, low and calming, whispered in her ear. “Relax, I won’t let you fall.”

“I know." As she spoke, she could feel the heat of his breath against her neck, and it made her shiver.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/4b88766c8632954e6dca6a47c1c08d20d908782f/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f70337970415430446956385762673d3d2d313535303233393933342e313834623934383539343037306135303734373732373134393139362e706e67]

Above: Saphira and Nocturne riding on a horse together.

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her body closer into his. The warmth of his chest pressed against her, and Saphira felt her heartbeat quicken, her thoughts momentarily lost in the sensation—her body, pushed into his, and his hands grasping her in a way she had never been touched before.

The feel of him, Saphira’s breath hitched, He’s solid, commanding, and so impossibly close, it’s overwhelming.

He urged the stallion forward, parting the crowds as they crossed the inner courtyard to the great feasting hall, Aula Victoriae. As they passed by, the nobles threw rowanberries for protection, lavender for fertility, and rose petals for love. The cheers of celebration did not drown out the mutterings of disapproval and distrust—and the gasps of horror as they saw a Lady riding in a saddle.

The six Mountain Knights followed behind on foot, eyes sharp and hands resting on their weapons.

As the stallion walked towards Aula Victoriae, the rhythmic bounce of its steps made it impossible to ignore how every movement pushed their bodies together. She could feel the tension in his body, his hard muscles coiled, holding back.

"Is something wrong, my Lord?" she asked, her voice soft but unsure.

His voice was barely a breath as he leaned closer, his words almost lost in the warmth of her ear. “Try to stay still.”

Saphira's voice turned to tease before she could stop it. “I swear, your horse is trying to throw me off. What’s his name, Trouble?”

"No. Gin," Nocturne replied, his voice laced with subtle amusement.

"Ah," Saphira said, a mischievous glint in her purple eyes, as she felt her normal self return, "So you do have a sense of humour. They say djinn are pale, but this stallion’s blacker than midnight."

“He’s not named after the Eldritch folk. It’s Gin.” Nocturne’s voice dropped to a dark whisper as he leaned closer, his voice testing as her body rubbed against him. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing. Careful, two can play your game.”

Saphira’s tone softened, and she turned her head slightly, her voice a delicate whisper, filled with more sincerity than she intended. “My life has always been someone else’s game. I’m just trying to survive it.”

image [https://img.wattpad.com/8cad7d365f0954af9f7f2ad192c38ed68e0cfc92/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4345757741387377544e447164773d3d2d313535303233393933342e313834626136323838646237366233353333383738393034343336362e706e67]

Above: "Two can play your game" — Nocturne

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

Nocturne tensed. “We’re… here now. Come.”

The knight dismounted with ease, his movements swift and confident. Without hesitation, Nocturne reached up, lifting Saphira from the saddle smoothly. She barely had time to react before he set her down gently on her feet, just outside the threshold of the wedding feast.

She staggered slightly, caught off guard by the sudden shift, her fingers brushing against the cold metal of his pauldron as he steadied her. Nocturne’s gaze briefly met hers, a quiet check for any sign of discomfort. Without a word, he released her and took a step back.

Aula Victoriae stretched out before them, its silence echoing in Saphira’s ears, the heat of the summer oppressive. She took a breath, steadying herself as they were the first guests to enter.

The celebration had been set up with large banquet tables, overflowing with the bounty of the wedding feast. Saphira’s empty stomach rumbled as she saw stuffed peacocks and roasted boar, served whole, along with gallons of red wine, mead, and beer. Her mouth watered as she saw stewed apples in custard, pear pudding, and strawberry cream tarts.

Saphira held out her hand with quiet expectation. After a moment, Nocturne grasped it.

He led her up to the grand table at the head of the room, which overlooked the feast. Duke Crassus sat on the opposite side of the hall, where his goblet was quickly filled with mead. He pushed the drink aside.

The guests arrived, from most important to least, each bowing to Crassus as they entered. They formed an orderly line to congratulate Saphira and Nocturne, and present their gifts.

First came crystalith jewellery from the Lord Marquess Willow and his wife. The Count of Sanguinis offered a gilded dagger, drawing a one-sided smile from Nocturne.

Lord Reed pushed forward, presenting a self-authored book on the history of the Ashen Blades, which elicited a tiny scowl from Nocturne.

Lady Petronella presented paints in rare shades of cobalt and indigo, which she had acquired during her travels across the Jade Routes. Saphira ran her fingers over the glass pots before the attendants took them away—already imagining them packed and priced in some foreign market stall, her father’s sigil stamped across the lid.

No doubt, Father will sell everything for a profit, Saphira thought with a sigh. He’s never wasted an opportunity.

Lingering behind the quarter-giant envoys from the Frostlands, Nocturne’s squire, Aurelian, was the last to arrive. His chocolate-brown eyes drifted absently across the room, vacant and searching, his raven-black hair tousled. He had facial piercings and a tattoo peaked above his collar.

Saphira gasped. I've never seen a freeman wear tattoos before.

“Rell,” Nocturne said, voice low and dry. “The giants more interesting than me?”

Aurelian blinked. “Oh—sorry.” He stepped forward, expression earnest. His eyes shone with quiet admiration as he offered a small, intricately etched stone, its surface pulsing faintly with light. He hesitated, hand slightly trembling.

“For her luck,” he said, biting the lip piercing in his lower lip, unable to make eye contact with Saphira. “She’ll need it.”

image [https://img.wattpad.com/28a4cd51a1df7a2849958d4a0cb0bd4292e17eeb/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f3759634d384a3268394e306833673d3d2d313535303233393933342e3138346261623963376130623031396339333039303031323836322e706e67]

Above: Aurelian presents his gift.

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

Nocturne’s hand went under the table, and he slipped the stone onto Saphira’s lap. “I hope you won’t throw away such a humble gift,” he murmured, waving his squire away, “Rell likes to give… strange things.”

“It’s perfect,” Saphira breathed, cradling the rock with both hands, feeling the strange, unnatural weight of the stone. She thought of all the adventures it had seen—tumbling down mountainsides, polished in rivers, skipped over lakes.

Adventures I’ll be able to have soon, Saphira thought hopefully, looking up at her new husband.

Nocturne, catching her wide-eyed gaze, muttered, “What? It’s just a rock.” He smiled, a pitying kind of sadness in his eyes. “There are far more beautiful treasures on Hart Mountain.”

Saphira said nothing. She only curled her fingers tighter around the stone.

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Felicius led the Mountain Knights into the feasting hall. His sharp, angular features were softened by the grin that spread across his face. He beamed a bright, hopeful smile at the newlyweds, his cheerful presence a contrast to the starkly uncomfortable mood of the celebration.

Nocturne’s guarded demeanour relaxed, and there was a pause as they exchanged looks of unspoken understanding.

This goes beyond mere camaraderie, Saphira thought. It’s like they’re all in on some big secret.

Saphira pushed the thought aside as Valentino and Lysander approached.

Valentino stepped forward first. His tall, princely frame moved with an air of refinement, his chestnut-brown hair perfectly combed. The golden flecks in his brown eyes sparkled as he extended his hand toward Nocturne, clasping it firmly. He then turned to Saphira and bowed with regal elegance, saying, “On behalf of the Ashen Blades, congratulations, My Lady.”

Though the words were spoken with sincerity, Saphira saw something stewing behind his brown eyes—a nervousness, a discomfort, as if he would rather be anywhere else.

Valentino bowed to Nocturne, saying, "August has been delayed. But the gift will be delivered in time."

Nocturne nodded.

The shortest of the knights, Lysander, flashed Saphira a warm, playful smile, his hazel eyes twinkling with genuine interest. His long blonde hair was braided, and like many of the Ashen Blades, he wore many piercings in his ears. With a flourish, he bowed gracefully. “Congratulations, Nocturne,” he said, "She’s a remarkable woman. You both make quite the pair.”

Saphira blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his tone, and a slight blush crept up her neck.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/c280dd1a1a5cc99a11cfa786e699afc024049bb0/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f51635271557a6339724951376a673d3d2d313535303233393933342e313834626132366139316465353132663637323933373832303130362e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Above: Lysander introduces himself.

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

Lysander’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, warm and kind rather than teasing. “What, my Lady?” he laughed, “Has no one ever complimented you before?” He flicked his hand at Nocturne dismissively. “Don’t expect much from him. He’s not one for words.”

Nocturne's brow furrowed slightly, but there was a hint of fondness in his voice as he warned, “Behave yourself, Lye.”

Lysander winked playfully. “I always do.” He gave a polite bow, his voice sincere: “It’s an honour to meet you, Lady Saphira. I’m certain we’ll get along wonderfully—if we ever get the chance.”

What does he mean by ‘if’? Saphira managed a nervous smile, aware of all the eyes looking at her. Does he think he’s going to die killing Golgog? Or is there something else happening here?

Saphira felt a sinking knot in her stomach as she caught her father's glare from across the hall. His fingers were white, clenched so tightly around his dragon’s claw cane that it looked as though it might snap in two.

Celestine was right. There’s trouble here, she thought, her heart thudding in her chest. This tension is unlike anything I’ve experienced. What is my father planning?

Then, she felt it—Nocturne’s arm sliding behind her, resting casually over the back of her seat. The knight glared at the Duke, cutting through the noise and movement of the packed hall.

The unease curled in Saphira’s gut, growing with every second. Then, her stomach grumbled, empty.

Swirling the wine in his goblet, Nocturne remarked, “Are you going to eat anything?”

“Soon,” she replied, glancing at the untouched plates before them. Roasted quail glazed in honey, sugared dates, soft cheese, and citrus-poached pears sat temptingly close, fragrant, rich, and untouched.

A wife must not eat before her husband, Saphira reminded herself, pushing the hunger pangs away. I mustn’t make any mistakes. Father is watching.

“Have a drink,” Nocturne offered, reaching for the decanter.

Nearby, Valentino shook his head slightly, his brown eyes locked onto Nocturne. The Ashen Knight’s gloved hands tensed as he caught himself, just in time to avoid the faux pas.

Nocturne signalled for a servant to fill both their goblets. As he did, he said conversationally, “Have you met many Mountain folk before? What’s your impression?”

“Not many, considering you are our neighbours. But you all seem—” Saphira paused, sensing the testing edge to his tone, “—nice.”

“Nice?” He laughed, the sound almost genuine. “Well, that’s a new one.”

Saphira’s gaze drifted after Valentino as he rose and passed by her sister. Celestine tilted her head at him expectantly, searching his eyes. Valentino shook his head, a sad, quiet motion, then gave a single nod and walked on.

What did I just see? Saphira wondered. They look like they know each other.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/d2f5d97785a0e9d1a94bbdd54281af09b8b6b50b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6465546d4b426b444f41554752673d3d2d313535303233393933342e313834626135386563333761623330363938393238383636343137312e706e67]

Above: Valentino passes by Celestine.

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

Soon, wine flowed freely, filling bellies faster than it could be poured into waiting cups. The Renatii soldiers eyed the Ashen Blades with silent disdain—one hand on their goblets, the other never straying far from the hilts of their swords.

As the drink loosened tongues and lowered inhibitions, the tension in the hall swelled like a held breath. Saphira sat stiffly, heat prickling beneath her veil. The air was thick and stifling, made worse by the press of bodies and the smell of wine and sweat. Jackets, capes, and shawls had been discarded without care—only the barest minimum of propriety remained.

She watched in dismay as Sage slipped into a corridor with a serving woman and buried his face in her neck.

Always so brazen, Saphira grimaced. At least my father is discreet with such... liaisons.

She glanced toward her husband. Will he sit there holding his drink the whole time? Her stomach growled again. I hope he’ll eat soon.

Beyond the nobility’s tables, the common soldiers of the Ashen Blades were already mingling with the lesser Renatii denizens. The room had begun to divide—not by banners or bloodlines, but by mood. Where the Renatii were stiff-backed and watching, the Ashen Blades were laughing, shouting, pressing close.

One soldier pulled a buxom serving woman onto his lap, grabbed a meat pie from her tray, and planted a kiss full on her mouth, cheered on by his companions.

Nocturne waved over one of the Mountain Knights, and he came to their table without pause.

What’s his name again? Saphira observed the regal features, perfectly symmetrical if not for his moles. He had sharp cheekbones and dark mahogany hair held from his face with a green bandana. She reached for the stone in her pocket, turning it over in her palm. He looks so much like the squire. That’s right. He’s Sir Lucian.

“Your mind elsewhere, Lady Saphira?” Lucian chuckled, a dark glint in his teal eyes. “Nocturne, are you certain you’re ready for tonight?”

“Nothing’s changed—I’m ready,” Nocturne confirmed.

There’s an undercurrent to their words, Saphira thought. A secret I’m not part of. She searched the crowded room for Celestine but could not find her. I wish you were sitting beside me. You're better at all this politicking than me. You'd know what everyone was thinking.

With a mischievous smile, Lucian leaned over the table and whispered to Saphira, “Make sure Nocturne doesn’t drink too much tonight. Otherwise, don’t expect much of a performance.”

Heat surged up Saphira’s neck. Her blush bloomed so quickly that she could not hide it.

Nocturne’s hand gripped the back of her chair as he shot back, “Speaking from experience, Lucian?”

“I don’t touch alcohol,” Lucian said, teal eyes still focused on Saphira. “But our Count drinks like a fish. Watch him.”

Saphira dropped her gaze to her lap, willing her cheeks to cool—but the mood in the hall had shifted. Primrose had seated herself at the table of the Ashen Blades, lavished with attention as one knight poured her a drink and another fed her a tart. Across the room, Renatii knights watched with growing displeasure—their earlier cheer darkening into something harder.

Where is Daisy? Saphira scanned the hall. She’s usually in the middle of trouble with Primrose.

“Tell the Blades to behave themselves,” Nocturne said quietly to Lucian, reaching for his glass, then stopping just short. “Not a drop of blood is to be spilled.”

image [https://img.wattpad.com/a4ba2fb3fb08401bd6f301ccd8241be39dda421e/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7173364e4b34704f4c4c344442773d3d2d313535303233393933342e313834626162396133383033343337623833353739363531303336302e706e67]

Above: Lucian is given a task.

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

Lucian nodded once and turned, marching toward the Ashen Blade soldiers, his expressive face now full of calm determination.

"Don't worry, the Blades will keep in line." Nocturne chuckled, “I wouldn’t count this a wedding feast without three good fistfights.”

Saphira retorted, “And what of the food—is it not to your liking? Will you eat soon?”

“Why are you so eager for me to eat, when you’ve not touched the food yourself?” Humour pulled at his split lip as he leaned in and whispered, “Are you trying to poison me?”

Saphira gritted her teeth. “A wife must not eat before her husband.”

Without ceremony, Nocturne grabbed a rib of beef from the silver serving platter. He bit savagely into the meat, letting the juices run down into his beard. Wiping his chin with his sleeve, he chuckled.

“There. Eat your fill, my Lady.”

Soon, Saphira’s plate overflowed with pastries—almond, strawberry, and plum. Meanwhile, Nocturne’s was piled with roasted duck, broiled chicken, spit-roasted pork, and stewed beef—much to the visible disdain of the Renatii nobles nearby.

With great restraint, Saphira slipped a strawberry tart beneath her veil and nibbled at one corner. The burst of sweet cream and ripe fruit made her eyes flutter shut. A soft sigh escaped her—brief, involuntary. For a moment, nothing else existed but the warmth, the richness, the quiet ecstasy of that bite.

She glanced at her husband. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“As have you,” he replied without looking up.

“It’s hard to eat with a veil on.”

“Then take it off. You’re married now.”

“Here?” She let out a small laugh. “Perhaps I should also parade naked in the main courtyard?” She bit her lip and added, “—respectfully, my Lord.”

“Respectfully, indeed.” He chuckled. “Will that thing also stay on… tonight?”

Saphira felt her cheeks warm. She looked away, then murmured, “It is for my husband to remove—when we are finally alone.” A breath caught in her throat. “And I’ll be allowed to wear my hair down.”

Though no one could see it, a smug smile curled beneath her veil.

Nocturne’s lips twitched as he studied her, his gaze darkening slightly. “Then I look forward to that.” He sipped his wine. “Now, how old are you?”

“Should you not have enquired before we vowed?” Saphira quipped. “I could be an old crone under this veil.”

His gaze flicked toward her, sudden and sharp. “Your voice is much too pretty for that.” He leaned back, swirling his drink. His fingers lingered on the stem longer than necessary. “I think I’m nearing thirty summers, but I lost count.”

Saphira felt her cheeks warm. She looked down at her hands. “I just turned twenty. Born on the summer solstice.”

“So, you’ve plenty of time to regret this arrangement.” His voice softened, almost coaxing. “Do you resent me for doing this to you?”

“Why would I resent you?” she breathed, barely above a whisper. “I’m nervous, yes. But... I’m excited.” The last word wavered on her tongue, trailing into uncertainty as her gaze slid back to her father.

Duke Crassus had descended from his dais. The nobility clustered to greet him, but his smile was hollow, mirth absent from the steely blue eyes that scanned the room with calculation.

A shiver crept up Saphira’s spine. Her heartbeat stuttered into a frantic thrum. Father is coming this way.

image [https://img.wattpad.com/3d085ab47bd1b0d1b6968165eaa9dfb0f479d7c7/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f446f4b59623833584648754a48773d3d2d313535303233393933342e313834626131353463303735303132343538333637383435343336352e706e67]

Caption: Saphira spots Duke Crassus walking over.

[This is just for vibes and not a totally accurate depiction. AI-generated image]

She reached for Nocturne’s sleeve, her voice trembling. “You will take me away from here, won’t you?”

Nocturne hid his reaction with a slow sip of wine. “If that is what you wish.”

His gaze never left the Duke.

“We’ll spend the night together.” He paused, letting the weight of the statement settle between them.

Her mouth went dry, and she reached for a sip of her wine. She could still feel Celestine’s vial tucked away in her dress. With this, Celestine promised it wouldn’t hurt, Saphira reminded herself. He seems…different to what Celestine described. She felt a warmth spreading on her cheeks as she risked a glance at Nocturne. He's not half as brutish as I expected.

Nocturne continued, “But after tonight... it’ll be many moons before I return. Hopefully by spring.”

“Spring?” Her purple eyes widened behind the veil. “I don’t understand. You’re leaving me here?”

He studied her, though the veil made reading her impossible. His brow twitched, just slightly. “The Blades ride for the Shadowlands. I won’t risk your life there. I’d have you sent to Firestone tomorrow, but your father won’t allow it. So, yes—you’ll have to wait here. Until I bring Golgog’s head to your father’s hearth.”

Saphira’s fingers tightened around the stem of her goblet. Her father was halfway across the room.

She whispered, “But... it’s too soon.”

“As the wife of a spawnslayer, you’ll get used to it.” He said it like a man who had never had to explain himself before. Then—perhaps sensing the tension in her silence—his tone shifted into something gentler. “You’ll be the Countess of Firestone. You’ll live in some of the most fertile and beautiful lands on the continent. There are no nightspawn to worry about in my mountains. Our ways are hard, but you’ll learn—and our language will come soon enough, too.”

“My teachers taught me some clanspeak,” Saphira replied awkwardly, in the main dialect.

Nocturne drew a bemused smile over his lips and prattled away in clanspeak. Saphira bit her lip, understanding almost nothing.

Nocturne took a long sip from his goblet and said in the Renatii tongue, “You have much to learn.”

“I’ll study hard while you are away, I promise,” Saphira breathed. “My tutor says I pick up languages quickly. I already speak Hyland and King’s Common—”

“It’s okay,” Nocturne chuckled, “You don’t need to try to impress me.”

Bowing her head and whispering so quietly that she could barely be heard, Saphira breathed, “Swear it. That I’ll leave this place.”

“Now?” Nocturne's umber eyes flickered, almost hungry.

“As soon as—”

A shadow loomed over their table. “Lord Nocturne, I trust you’re taking good care of my daughter.”