Black And White Wedding [End]

"You may now kiss your bride, Your Eminence!" 

"...!" Gwenyra's reacted first. Her heart raced, and fear seized her. The very thought of a kiss from Ivan felt overwhelming, as if it might shatter something fragile within her. 

But Ludomir seemed serious, after all. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes, bracing herself for Ivan's lead.

But nothing came.

An oppressive silence filled the room.

"..."

The sound of applause died away, and the forced smiles vanished, though not because of Ludomir's words. The sudden threat, emanating from two women whose auras darkened dangerously. The Stigma they carried, charged with their murderous intent, radiated in the air focused toward Ludomir.

"You really trying to get yourself killed, Ludomir?" Mikhail chuckled without daring to look at either of the two dangerous women, Ludmila especially.

Ludomir, oblivious to the darkening duo of women, had taken the whole ceremony far too seriously. From his impassioned speech to his final declaration, he was immersed in his own happiness. Witnessing Ivan's marriage to Gwenyra—someone Ludomir believed had embraced Seraphiel wholeheartedly—filled him with a sense of triumph. It made him bold, perhaps recklessly so.

Ivan's gaze settled on Ludomir, who remained smiling, unaware of the thin ice he stood on. To those unfamiliar with Ivan, the moment may have seemed ordinary, but his closest companions could tell he was irritated, dangerously so.

Ivan had accepted everything up to this point, all in Seraphiel's name. But the kiss was too much. It was pathologic to him and such gestures were reserved only for Ludmila and Kamila, the two women allowed to approach him in that way. At most, a familial kiss from his estranged sisters were acceptable, though even that was doubtful given the state of their current relationship. As for proximity with men, only Dimitri and Mikhail were allowed in his space for long without provoking discomfort. It was an unspoken rule among the five of them: Ivan's boundaries were inviolable.

Without uttering a word, Ivan turned and walked away.

"Y–Your Eminence?" Ludomir called after him, his hand outstretched dramatically, confusion etched on his face.

Ludmila and Kamila shot a frigid, almost murderous glare at Ludomir who sent a chill ran down his spine before silently following Ivan. 

Mikhail scratched the back of his head, already bored with the proceedings. He knew better than to intervene. Ludmila, who should have been the one to conclude the ceremony, had no intention of doing so anymore, her mood utterly ruined thanks to Ludomir's blunder. Mikhail wasn't about to risk speaking to her now either.

"Well, party's over. Get your asses up and escort the nobles out," Mikhail ordered.

The nobles wasted no time, leaping to their feet, eager to flee the scary throne hall that had once been a place of pride. The grandeur of the hall felt suffocating now.

As the last of the nobles hurried out, Mikhail turned to Dimitri pointing at Charlie on the ground probably unconscious. "Take care of this mess, Dimitri. The live feed should've ended, but double-check the tapes, just in case."

Dimitri nodded and strode over to the collapsed figure of Charlie, who lay unconscious on the floor. 

Mikhail's attention then shifted to Laura and Jostin. "Jostin, escort the royals back to their quarters. Laura, take the bride."

Both gave a curt nod and moved toward the royal family. Gwenyra lingered for a moment, embracing her sobbing mother, father, and sister for what felt like the last time. Her two brothers remained distant, offering no embraces for different reasons.

Gwenyra with a sad smile gripped the hem of her gown and followed Laura in silence. The rest of the royal family followed Jostin, walking toward their quarters.

With everyone gone, Mikhail turned back to Ludomir, who was blankly staring as if he could still see Ivan. He had the look of someone whose heart had been broken by a foolish childhood crush.

"My little Lord Ivan..."

"Fuck you, Ludomir. Stay here and rot if you want," Mikhail muttered, snorting before walking away.

He followed behind Dimitri, who was dragging the unconscious Charlie across the floor by the scruff of his neck in one hand, the other gripping a bag filled with cameras and recording equipment. 

***

Ludmila and Kamila strode through the long corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. Ivan had disappeared somewhere, vanishing without a word before they could reach him.

"This cursed Ludomir! I swear, one of these days I'm going to kill him!" Kamila growled as she clenched her fists sending a wave of her Stigma without caring of the presence of anyone around.

Ludmila whose eyes had darkened further couldn't disagree. She shared Kamila's annoyance. Ludomir had always been unpredictable—someone with more than a few screws loose. His blind devotion often led him to reckless behavior, losing himself in his worship. Today, however, had been a particularly important day, and his carelessness was more than just an inconvenience.

Of course, Ludomir hadn't said anything outwardly damaging, nothing that spoiled the image they were projecting to other countries. In fact, his words during the ceremony had been eerily convincing, as if the wedding had been real. To those watching from the outside, it must have looked like a genuine union, a flawless performance. But to Kamila and Ludmila, it had felt too real—almost as if Ludomir had taken advantage of Ivan's deep devotion to Seraphiel to manipulate him into going along with it all.

Not that Ludomir had done it with malice; it wasn't calculated. He had simply been swept up in the fervor of the moment, blurting out whatever came to his mind. But it still grated on them.

"Leave him be," Ludmila finally said. "Regardless of his eccentricities, in the end, Ludomir is devoted to Ivan. That is enough of reason."

That was the main reason why Ludmila didn't torture Ludomir at each of his antics toward Ivan all these years.

Kamila shot her a sideways glance, her expression still dark, but she didn't argue. Ludmila didn't condone Ludomir's embarrassing behavior, but she knew he had a soft spot for Ivan. After all, he had been the one to teach Ivan the principles of Seraphiel's Faith. Ludomir's devotion to Ivan bordered on obsession, which made his unpredictable nature tolerable—just barely.

It was also why, despite his recklessness, none of the four truly took Ludomir's words seriously. Yet, for all his worship, there were limits. Ivan had never trusted him enough to reveal his deeper secrets, like his clandestine escapades in Ocryphia. In fact, it was hard to tell who Ludomir worshipped more—the Father or Ivan himself.

After a brief silence, Kamila shifted to concern. "What's happening to Ivan?" 

She had noticed the growing power in his Stigma, and while part of her felt pride in his strength, another part feared that it might change who he was at his core.

Ludmila glanced at her, understanding the concern but not sharing it. "I wouldn't worry about him."

Ivan's capable of more than anyone realizes for her. He's already bent a Devil to his will; his Stigma won't break him.

What she was more worried about was Ivan being used more purpose by Gevurah after noticing his growing Stigma.

"Let's see him." Ludmila said knowing where he was. 

"You go ahead, Ludmila. I will help these two finishing what we have planned," Kamila shook her head. 

Ludmila knew Kamila was missing Ivan as much as her so she was a bit surprised seeing her refusing time with him but quickly understood that Kamila wanted to leave Ludmila alone with Ivan having her own time.

As much as Kamila loved Ivan, she loved also Ludmila, her brother and Mikhail. Though her love for Ivan was really as a person from the opposite sex, she prioritized always Ludmila over her in their relation toward Ivan.

Ludmila sighed a bit understanding that. "We don't know when he will be back, you should come, Kamila." 

"I may look impatient but I can be patient, Ludmila," Kamila shrugged her shoulders. "Just make sure he's fine when he goes back to Ocryphia."

Ludmila, exasperated by Kamila's persistence, shook her head. "Alright. Keep an eye on those two, and especially Ludomir."

"I will," Kamila assured her, her tone eyes darkening a bit at the mention of Ludomir.

With a brief nod, Ludmila turned and vaulted out the window, with fluid movements. She soared high, effortlessly landing atop one of the tower's roofs, hundreds of meters above the ground. Ivan was already there, lying with his arms crossed behind his head, the night wind ruffling his hair as it swept past. His pitch-black eyes reflected only the faintest glimmer of the moonlight above.

Despite his earlier irritation with Ludomir, Ivan now seemed completely at ease, as if the incident had already faded from his mind. Ludmila knew him well enough to understand—he had likely forgotten about it altogether. 

Silently, she positioned herself beside him, gently lifting his head and resting it on her lap. Ivan didn't resist, though she could feel the subtle shift in his posture, a sign that her presence was a comfort to him. His eyes remained fixed on the moon though.

"Things are going well, aren't they?" Ludmila murmured.

Ivan gave a slight nod, still gazing upward.

"You know you can tell us anything, Ivan," she added softly after a pause.

"I'll tell you about Ocryphia soon enough," Ivan replied, assuming she was referring to his involvement with the Ocryphia Academy.

"It's not about Ocryphia." Ludmila shook her head.

Ivan's dark eyes finally shifted, turning toward her.

"I think we've all noticed... something's been different about you since the day we took Camelot," she continued hesitantly, searching for the right words.

It had been a barely perceptible change, but it was there. The others felt it too—moments when Ivan's behavior seemed uncharacteristic. He had always been predictable for them knowing him for years, but now, there were flashes of unpredictability. Sparing Gwenyra Pendragon, giving his word to Arthur not to harm her—decisions that didn't align with the Ivan they knew.

"…"

Ivan turned back to the moon.

Ludmila was speaking, of course, about the strange shifts they'd all noticed—what Ivan himself referred to as the 'switches.' They didn't know the full truth yet, but Ivan did. He had the memories, the power, and the abilities of six other Antagonists, each from different stories—fragments of identities that were now his own.

He wanted to tell them, someday. But not now. Not until he understood why this was happening, why he carried the strength and memories of six different beings from six different novels. 

Seeing Ivan remain silent, Ludmila sighed slightly but didn't press further. She understood he would confide in them eventually and decided to be patient. 

"Ludmila," Ivan called. 

"Yes?"

"Call Urvan. I need something to seal a portion of my Stigma."