The Lady and the Imposter

The hours that followed for Morvain were nothing short of boring. Not only had they taken Logan, but they also whisked away Morvain's little brother, Rony, placing two knights from Emberfall to keep a watchful eye on Morvain. It felt as if he was being treated like an enemy rather than a bystander.

Delicious meals were promptly delivered at exact times, and with nothing else to occupy his time, Morvain found solace in slumber.

It wasn't until nightfall that he finally received a visitor – someone he had hoped to see in moments like these.

"I've heard what happened, but I must hear it from you, my lord. Is it true what Lord Emberfall tells?"

Lumiere sat on the bed, her once beautiful face now etched with creases, almost akin to a dying rose. Her body language was erratic, and Morvain even doubted whether she had gotten any sleep in the last few days.

Exhaustion was eating her alive.

"It depends," Morvain replied, "on what the young lord had said about me."

Her brows tightened, and creases covered her face.

"He said you insulted him, then your servants insulted him, and then the three of you attacked him, and he didn't retaliate because you're a hero to the people."

Morvain's eyes twitched uncontrollably, and then he burst into laughter that echoed through the dimly lit room.

"What is it, my lord? Is it not true?" Lumiere asked, a glimmer of hope appearing on her face. Perhaps she hoped that this man wasn't foolish enough to attack a lord like Emberfall.

"A blatant lie, that is what it is! Do you—" He leaned forward towards her. "—Do you really believe a lord like him would be jumped by a cripple, a useless farmer, and a lowborn Ironfury? If that doesn't sound like an obvious cover-up story, then what is?"

"So, you did not insult him?" she asked, hopefully, leaning forward.

"Ah... well, I... uh... may have said something while I was angry that may seem rude or insulting, at that moment, to others," he confessed, scratching the back of his head.

Lumiere's eyes twitched.

"Did you also attack him?"

"Me? Personally, no," Morvain threw his hands up, "but..."

"Mhmm... but, what, my lord?" She crossed her arms, and a small smile threatened to escape her lips, her gaze unwavering as she awaited his answer.

"Well, when the young lord was about to kill me, and Logan, you know, the one with the red head, he kinda punched the young lord's hand, which caused him to hit himself in the face with his own magic. Hilarious, right? I swear, it was like a comedy show! The lord's face, the flying magic, the whole shebang. You should have seen it, my lady, it was the most unintentionally funny thing ever. Comedy gold!"

He burst into laughter, mimicking the scene with animated gestures, completely oblivious to the serious atmosphere. Lumiere, on the other hand, sighed and shook her head at the absurdity of it all.

Morvain chuckled, reliving the amusing event in his mind. As he glanced at Lumiere, expecting her to share in the laughter, the mirth disappeared from his face. Lumiere, however, remained composed, her expression one of quiet contemplation.

She again sighed, still rubbing the bridge of her nose. "My lord, we are in a precarious situation. Attacking a lord, even in self-defense, is a grave offense. You understand the consequences, don't you?"

Morvain's laughter faded into a serious frown as the weight of the situation sank in.

"My lady, the man was just defending m--"

A stifled chuckle escaped the hiding face of the lady, like pearls slowly breaking free from the chains of gold.

She laughed. It was the kind of laughter that men fantasize about in their wildest dreams. A laughter like a waterfall after spring or perhaps like a river under the scorching heat of summer. Her laughter was so joyous that the whole chamber seemed to vibrate with the infectious mirth.

"Oh, my lord," her laughter echoed in the chamber. "Your vivid description painted a hilarious picture in my mind. I couldn't resist. Forgive me, my dear lord."

A wider smile graced her lips as her hand gently touched Morvain's cheek.

"Are you alright?"

"You're not mad at me?" he asked, bewildered. "Didn't I insult and attack a lord?"

She sighed and moved closer to him on the bed, her hand now cupping her other. A somber expression overtook her features, a shadow of sadness lingering in her eyes.

"What is it?" Morvain asked, leaning forward to watch her face.

"My sister is betrothed to him," she whispered softly. "She is one and a half years older than me. We used to be so close...so close that we were called twins by everyone. Every single thing I did was copied from her, like a twin indeed.

"Then, when our mother revealed the news of the betrothal, everything between us took a somber turn. It was as if the walls that had once supported our sibling relationship crumbled and knelt to the ground, creating an irreparable crevice between us."

Morvain observed a solitary tear escaping from her melancholic blue orbs, her fingers trembling with an unspoken sorrow.

"I can't fathom what transpired. Since meeting that man, she has become increasingly arrogant and spiteful, as if a shadow of resentment enveloped her. It's like she started harboring disdain for me. Then, it all unraveled when the Prince extended an invitation to a ball. All hell broke loose—oh, what am I even saying."

She pinched her nose, inhaling deeply, desperately trying to compose herself before facing him once more.

"Oh, I must be boring you, my lord. Here we are, meeting properly, and I'm pouring out tales of my family drama. You must think I'm quite the cracked woman," she chuckled dryly, wiping the tears from her eyes that resembled glistening pearls.

Morvain shook his head, tenderly touching her jaw and coaxing her to meet his gaze. With his other hand, he delicately wiped away the traces of tears, each movement echoing the melancholy that hung in the air.

"There are few qualities I value in a person: honesty and the willingness to be completely vulnerable. So, you are neither crazy nor cracked but a wonderful soul sincerely embracing yourself and the world."

His fingers caressed her soft cheeks, their gentle touch sending a subtle shiver down her spine. Entranced, she leaned into his comforting touch, her eyes mirroring a blend of emotions as tears welled up.

"Do you fancy the prince?" he inquired, his tone carrying a playful note.

She chuckled softly, "I hardly know him. Our encounters have been fleeting at public events. He appears pleasant, I suppose. As long as I'm not a pawn in someone's game, contentment is all I seek."

"What if a gallant man swept you away from the prince on your wedding day? Would you feel happiness or terror?" he mused.

Her laughter bubbled forth, "Why would this gallant, valiant, amiable, and considerate man do such a thing unless he sought something from me?" The melancholic undertones momentarily lifted in the light of her laughter.

"Perhaps your heart, my lady," he replied, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

Her mouth hung open in surprise, and Morvain couldn't resist a chuckle.

"But really, if I dared to steal you away from the prince on your wedding day, would you call the guards, or would you ride with me toward our happy ending?" he playfully questioned.

She rose from her seat, pivoting to confront his beaming countenance, a coy smile dancing upon her lips.

"Well, if you were bold enough to snatch me from the prince," she teased, mischief sparkling in her eyes, "I might just consider giving you a chance."

"A chance?" he exclaimed, feigning exasperation. "The audacity!"

Their eyes locked in a shared gaze, and a symphony of laughter unfurled between them.

"I'll discuss matters with the lords regarding your... associates, my lord. Would it be acceptable if I reveal your identity to some trusted individuals?"

"That's fine, my lady. As long as they're safe, I'm open to it."

She nodded, bidding him farewell with a graceful bow before departing. Yet, his question lingered in the recesses of her thoughts:

'Would you ride with me to our happy ending?'

The master you are serving is not true.

The words echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of an incident during the Kraken's attack. It was a statement uttered by the same girl, just before they went their separate ways.

As the memory resurfaced, he called out, "Lady Lumiere." She turned to him with a subtle grace, her gaze curious and expectant.

"Yes?"