🛡️ Lucien's POV ⚔️

The crisp air of Wintermere clung to the last vestiges of winter, and the chill was a familiar companion as I strolled through the countryside. Quentin walked beside me, his presence a comforting constant. I wear a black waistcoat, neatly buttoned over a white long-sleeve shirt. The sapphire brooch at the black tie near my throat, nestled within silver filigree, its cold brilliance echoing the authority I wielded. My black cloak, draped across my shoulders, was an extension of that authority, the silver embroidery glinting in the faint light of early spring.

As we wandered through the snow-speckled fields, the thawing earth whispered of the season's inevitable change. The silence between us was comfortable, broken only by the soft crunch of our footsteps. But then, another sound, a lighter, hesitant step, caught my attention.

A young girl approached, her small form stark against the vast, pale landscape. She clutched a pocket in her hands, her knuckles white with either fear or resolve, perhaps both. She halted a few paces from us, eyes wide and uncertain.

"Duke..." she began, her voice trembling like the last leaves of autumn. "I... wish to present this rock to you. I seek your permission to welcome it into Wintermere."

I remained silent, my expression impassive as I studied her. It was a practiced calm, one that often served me well in negotiations, but here, it seemed to unsettle the girl further. Her nervousness was almost palpable, her grip on the pocket tightening as if it were her only anchor.

"Your Grace, you're making the poor girl even more nervous." Quentin's voice cut through my thoughts, his tone laced with amusement.

I sighed softly, a habit born from dealing with Quentin's occasional quips. "I understand," I replied, my voice even.

I crouched down, bringing myself to the girl's level, meeting her wide-eyed gaze with one I hoped was reassuring rather than intimidating.

Extending my right hand slowly in a gentle gesture, I said, "Very well, then. Please, give it to me."

She hesitated, just for a moment, before placing the pocket in my gloved hand. I opened it to reveal a small, seemingly ordinary rock. To the untrained eye, it was nothing special, but I could feel the subtle warmth emanating from it, the faint pulse of life within the stone.

I understand now. Yes, it all makes sense.

"I, Lucien Valenhart, Duke of Wintermere, grant this rock permission to reside in this realm," I declared, the formality of my words contrasting with the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth.

The transformation in the girl was immediate. Her fear melted away, replaced by a radiant smile that lit up her entire face.

"Thank you, Duke!" she exclaimed, bowing deeply before grabbing the rock and pocket in my hand and turning to dash off, her earlier trepidation forgotten in her joy.

That went well, I suppose.

I watched her go. Quentin stepped closer, raising an eyebrow at me. "So, it's really just a rock, Your Grace?"

"Not just a rock," I corrected.

"A golem. The girl wields elemental magic, Terra (Earth). She can create golems, and this was her way of asking for permission to let it roam freely in Wintermere."

Though even a girl like her, capable of creating at least a small golem, is truly admirable. Not even an average child who wields terra can create a golem properly.

Quentin chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "So, you're the gatekeeper of rocks now?"

I stood, brushing a few stray snowflakes from my cloak. "Apparently so," I replied, though I couldn't keep the dry amusement from my voice. "There's no need to worry about these creatures, they're intelligent and only attack when provoked."

As we continued our walk, the first hints of spring began to warm the air, the land slowly awakening from its winter slumber. The encounter, though brief, left an unexpected warmth in its wake, much like the faint smile that lingered on my lips long after the girl had gone.

The countryside around us gradually thawed in the subtle embrace of spring. But then, as if recalling something important, I notice Quentin's expression at the corner of my eye has shifted to one of mild seriousness.

"Now that reminds me, your grace." he said, reaching into the pocket hidden behind his brown coat. With a quick motion, he pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment. "The estate received a letter earlier this morning."

I glanced at him, mildly curious. "From whom?"

"A letter from the Duchess," Quentin replied, holding the envelope up for me to see.

I felt a slight jolt, an involuntary widening of my eyes. A letter from her? For what? That was unexpected.

Quentin noticed my reaction and raised an eyebrow, his amusement returning. "Would you like to know already, Your Grace? I can read it aloud if you prefer."

The curiosity gnawed at me, though I tried to maintain a composed exterior. "Please do," I said, my tone more nonchalant than I felt.

Quentin nodded and carefully broke the wax seal. He unfolded the parchment, and while clearing his throat, he began to read aloud:

"Dear Duke Lucien,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I suspect that, in your usual way, you are managing far better than you let on. The capital is as bustling as ever, but despite the social whirl and constant demands, I find my thoughts drifting back to Wintermere more often than not. It seems Veridonia has lost some of its charm. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to visit my parents. I am deeply grateful to you.

I have made the decision to leave the capital and return to Wintermere. I believe the tranquility of the estate will do me good, and I have much to reflect upon. The winter has been long, but I find myself yearning for the familiar landscapes and the cold that bites yet also invigorates. Perhaps it is the promise of spring that draws me back.

I will arrive within the next two days. Please do not trouble yourself on my account; I am quite capable of managing the journey and my return. As for the paperwork you left in the capital, rest assured that it has already been settled. I trust you will find it highly entertaining, especially while you are in Wintermere, where you can vividly describe my suffering in those papers.

Until then, take care, Duke.

Yours,
Adeline"

Quentin finished reading and folded the letter back with the same care with which he had opened it. He handed it to me, though I kept my gaze on the horizon, processing her words.

So, she's coming back? I didn't expect her to return so soon, especially after seeing in her eyes how much she missed the capital, a place where she grew up.

Why the sudden interest in Wintermere? Did something happen?

Could it be that she's already embracing her role as a duchess? No, it couldn't be that.

Adeline Wycliffe, the beloved daughter of Viscount Marcus Wycliffe and Viscountess Jean Wycliffe, is known for her beauty, adventurous spirit, sharp intellect, and mastery over the element of lumina. Yet, despite her vibrant nature, she is now caged by the constraints of noble life, bound to me through a marriage arranged solely for the sake of an alliance.

I bear the weight of responsibility for her current predicament. When the Emperor summoned me to the capital, I never anticipated the true reason behind his call. I was aware that I could not reject the Emperor's decree. So, I picked her out of all the possibilities that were put in front of me based only on my fleeting intuition.

I am already planning for the day when the Emperor's gaze shifts away. When that moment comes, I will annul this marriage and grant her the freedom she deserves. It is the only honorable course of action for someone who never desired this union in the first place. I understand her position completely.

I just need to find the right way to tell her so she can feel some relief about all of this, or perhaps even a glimmer of hope.

Quentin chuckled softly, breaking my thoughts. "The Duchess does have a point, Your Grace. That mountain of paperwork in the capital can be quite the adversary."

I finally took the letter from him, holding it in my gloved hand.

Quentin grinned, clearly pleased by the turn of events. "It will be good to have the Duchess back at the estate. The place has been a bit too quiet, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," I mused, tucking the letter into my pocket. "Or perhaps Wintermere simply prefers its quiet."

We resumed our walk, the letter tucked safely away, yet the words lingered in my mind like the first bloom of spring amidst the lingering winter frost. With her return, the rhythm of Wintermere would undoubtedly shift once again.

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🦊 3rd Person POV: Clara 🪄🌿

The air was crisp with the promise of spring as Clara strolled through her uncle's garden. The snow, which had blanketed the grounds for months, was gradually receding, revealing patches of green that whispered of life beneath the surface. Buds were beginning to form on the trees, eager to burst forth in bloom.

Clara knelt beside a small patch of emerging crocuses, her black hair cascading over her shoulder like a waterfall. Her hair, styled in soft, cascading waves, framed her face, with gentle bangs that delicately brushed her forehead. The long, silky strands shimmered under the sunlight, contrasting beautifully with the radiant golden eyes that gleamed with quiet determination. As she gently brushed the delicate petals with her fingers, her hair flowed around her. It was in these quiet moments that she felt most connected to her magic, Sylva (Nature).

Beside her, nestled among the flowers, was her familiar, a small, adorable creature that resembled a fox made of intertwined vines and leaves, with soft moss covering its back and tiny flowers blooming in its fur. Its eyes were like polished amber, bright and full of mischief. The familiar, whom she had named Ivy, nudged her hand with its damp nose, as if encouraging her to breathe life into the garden.

"You're right, Ivy. Well, since the spring starts," Clara murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's time to help."

With a gentle wave of her hand, Clara sent a ripple of magic through the garden. The crocuses bloomed in full, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the melting snow. Tiny shoots of grass began to push through the soil, and the trees, started to sprout new leaves.

Ivy watched with keen interest, its mossy tail curling around its body as the garden slowly came back to life. The familiar's connection to Clara was palpable, and it mirrored her every emotion, reflecting the harmony between them and the natural world. Sensing the garden's energy shift, Ivy let out a small, contented chirp, something between a fox's bark and the rustle of leaves in the wind. Clara chuckled, reaching out to stroke Ivy's leafy fur, which emitted a soft, soothing fragrance of fresh earth and wildflowers.

"You're such a good helper," she whispered, pressing her forehead gently against Ivy's. The familiar's eyes closed in response, basking in the warmth of Clara's affection.

Ivy playfully nudged her snout toward the next patch of flowers, as if to say, "There's still more to do!" 

Clara couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright, let's keep going," she agreed, letting Ivy guide her toward another bed of budding plants.

As they worked together, Ivy would occasionally dart off to chase a stray leaf or pounce on a stubborn twig that dared to remain buried in the snow. Each time, it would return triumphantly, a small flower or a shiny pebble clutched in its tiny mouth, presenting these treasures to Clara as if they were gifts. Clara would accept them with a smile, carefully tucking them into the folds of her robe as tokens of Ivy's affection.

As the last traces of snow melted away, Clara rose to her feet, her golden eyes scanning the garden. The once dormant landscape was now teeming with the promise of new beginnings, and she felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Ivy, too, seemed proud of their work, prancing around Clara's feet with a lightness that reflected the joyful energy of the revived garden.

The garden was not just a place; it was a living, breathing entity, and with Ivy at her side, Clara knew she could help it flourish. Spring was here, and with it came the promise of growth, change, and perhaps, something even more profound.

"What do you think, Ivy? Isn't it beautiful?" Clara smiled down at her familiar.

Ivy responded with a soft nod, her tail wagging in agreement, as if to reassure Clara. Then, as if sensing her friend's slight uncertainty, Ivy brushed up against Clara's leg, offering silent comfort. Clara reached down and scratched behind Ivy's leafy ears, earning a soft, satisfied trill from her companion.

"I hope the Duchess will like this. Uncle Quentin said she'll arrive in two days, and I thought surprising her with a blooming garden would be nice. Do you think she'll like it?"

Ivy's response was more than a mere nod this time. The familiar jumped onto a nearby rock and struck a pose, its mossy tail sweeping dramatically behind it like a performer on a stage. It tilted its head in what could only be described as a look of confident approval, as if to say, "Who could possibly resist such beauty?"

Clara laughed, momentarily setting aside her worries. "You're right, Ivy. I'm sure she'll love it. Besides, she's the reason I want to visit Wintermere with my uncle in the first place."

She glanced around the garden, now a vibrant tapestry of life and color, and felt a deep sense of accomplishment. The crocuses swayed gently in the soft cold breeze, their delicate petals glowing in the gentle light of the morning sun. 

Ivy, her tiny fox-like familiar, was prancing around, weaving in and out of the flower beds, clearly proud of their work.

She knelt down beside Ivy, her eyes warm with affection. "We've done something special today, Ivy," she whispered, reaching out to scratch behind the familiar's leafy ears. Ivy responded with a pleased trill, leaning into Clara's touch, its amber eyes closing in contentment.

As they stood there, Clara felt the quiet energy of the garden. She knew that the Duchess's arrival would bring new challenges, but for now, she allowed herself to savor this moment of peace.

"Come on," she said softly, standing and brushing the soil from her hands. "Let's see if we can find some more flowers for the front path. We want the Duchess to feel welcomed the moment she arrives."

Ivy jumped to her side, its tail flicking with enthusiasm, ready for the next task. Together, they walked towards the garden gate, leaving behind a landscape transformed by their magic.

As they exited the garden, Clara glanced back one last time, a smile playing on her lips. The garden, now teeming with life, seemed to pulse with a quiet, comforting energy. It was a reminder that, no matter how cold and unforgiving Wintermere could be, spring always found a way to break through.

"Thank you, Ivy," she murmured, reaching down to pat her familiar once more. Ivy responded with a playful nip at her fingers, its eyes bright with shared joy.

Clara laughed softly, feeling the warmth of their connection strengthen with every step. With Ivy at her side, she knew they could face whatever lay ahead.

I love Ivy, and I'm sure you're going to love this familiar. I've already developed a backstory for her and Clara, and I'm really excited about it. I'm already invested in their journey.