Melancholic Dreams

Their conversation flowed smoothly, their words heavy with strategy and foresight. The grand duke leaned in, his eyes shining with shared understanding of the complex politics at play. "This is a good chance. The barbarians at the borders are getting more aggressive. It's clear their power is growing, and with it, their defiance. We must handle them, and an alliance with House Grell might be the answer."

The duchess looked focused. "We can't let their rebellious actions continue unchecked. Our borders need to stay secure. Should I write a letter to the countess?" She sipped her tea, her gray eyes smoldering with intensity. "As for the barbarians, their stubbornness can be turned to our advantage."

"Indeed," the grand duke agreed, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on his chair's armrest. "The time for the conquest is getting closer, but Vaughn hasn't replied to my letter about joint exercises. His lack of response might cause problems during the conquest."

The duchess smiled a little. "Our alliance with the southern duchy has always been rocky. We came together mainly to deal with corrupted elementals. But our goals are the same. This conquest matters a lot. And our connection with them is as fragile as glass, given that we both want the same land."

He nodded. "We'll invite Countess Grell to a diplomatic meeting. It's a chance to talk about the growing border tensions and to plan together for the conquest."

"Agreed," the duchess said firmly. "Her support could really help us."

As they discussed diplomacy further, the duchess glanced at the courtyard below. Servants tended to the garden with precision, showing a harmony that contrasted with the whispers of discord inside the palace.

The grand duke's sharp eyes followed her gaze. "There's unrest within the court," he remarked, his tone showing both annoyance and frustration.

The duchess nodded, her expression a mix of worry and calculation. "Our power has both loyal followers and jealous rivals. Will you visit the court before the conquest?"

Moving closer, his voice softer, he set his empty cup down. "It's needed. If we let the troublemakers run free, their negativity might spread. For our duchy's sake and the peace of the land, we have to deal with those who challenge us quickly. Unity among the court is vital, and we can't let disagreement grow."

"Any news from the court?" Her words held a hint of concern.

The grand duke looked at her calmly, like a calm sea. "It's the western faction causing issues." The duchess scoffed, showing her lack of worry. The western duchy, close to a desert, had always plotted for more resources. But to the grand duke and duchess, they were insignificant, like annoying flies.

With their tea finished, the duchess extended an inviting arm to her husband. "Shall we take a walk?" she suggested, her gaze steady but harboring a weight that he had grown attuned to. It had been lingering there since he had returned from the training grounds, and the grand duke knew that something significant rested on her mind.

Looping his arm through hers, they strolled through the manicured pathways of the garden. Their steps were synchronized, matching the graceful cadence of their thoughts. The grand duke felt the anticipation in the air, a prelude to a conversation he had been expecting.

As they walked, the duchess's poise was unwavering, her movements a dance of elegance. But beneath her composed exterior, there was a storm of concern. Finally, amidst the tranquil beauty of the garden, she found the words that had been weighing on her.

"Andromeda lost control this morning," she began, her voice soft unlike how she talked with others, carrying the gravity of the revelation. "She lashed out at Delphine."

The grand duke's steps faltered for a fraction of a second but he continued, his brows furrowing in worry. "Is Delphine alright?"

The duchess nodded, her grip on his arm steady. "The doctor assured me that, thanks to our blessed lineage, Delphine will make a full recovery."

Concern etched the grand duke's features as he sought to understand the root of the conflict. "What happened? Why did Andromeda lose control?"

The duchess's gaze softened, her voice tinged with a mix of understanding and sadness. "It was ilmestys. She couldn't rein in her temper, and it led to this unfortunate incident."

They continued their walk, navigating the winding paths as their conversation delved deeper. "Ilmestys… It's a good news but also a responsibility. We need to take her to the temple," the grand duke mused, his thoughts aligning with his wife's concerns. "She must learn to harness her power. And a tutor—someone who can guide her through this."

The duchess nodded in agreement. "Yes, we need a tutor who can help her understand and control her fire abilities. It's crucial for her safety and for those around her. I have already started to search through the possible candidates and this is also why I wish to take Andromeda to Countess Grells' granddaughter's coming of age ceremony."

The duke silently hummed, understanding, "A lineage of powerful elementals, a fine choice indeed."

As they reached a serene spot by the garden's edge, the grand duke stopped, turning to face his wife. His eyes searched hers, finding the shared determination that had always been their strength. Tenderly, he reached for her hand, his touch a reassurance.

"Thank you for sharing this with me," he said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his concern as he stood in front of her, holding her hands.

The duchess's lips curved into a small smile, their bond unspoken but palpable. "We are partners in this journey, Eleftherios." She squeezed his hand, looking at him with eyes full of adoration, a rare sight only reserved for the duke's eyes.

The grand duke didn't voice his thoughts but it was easy to read. He adored this strong woman. His wife, his duchess. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss, a gentle promise reaffirming his affections and vows to her.

The grand duke retreated to his study, his mind swirling with thoughts of Andromeda's well-being and the steps they needed to take. Changing into more formal attire, he returned to his office, the weight of responsibility driving his actions.

Summoning Andromeda, he waited in his study. Meanwhile, the duchess, resolute and composed, headed to her own office, her responsibilities awaiting her.

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Amidst the realm of dreams, Andromeda wandered through the desolate landscape of the ruined capital, a place devoid of color, where grayness shrouded everything like a heavy mist. Ash fell from the sky like sorrowful snowflakes, a symbol of the world's decay. It was a place of ruin, where memories of a past life lingered like specters.

Her older self, 38 years old, moved through this monochrome wasteland in a mourning black tattered gown. She was a silhouette against the bleak backdrop, her presence weighted with the burden of time and loss. The air was heavy with an unspoken melancholy, and Andromeda's heart echoed with a sense of familiarity.

In the distance, she spotted the back of a man. He wore pure black robes that seemed to absorb even the dim light, and he moved with the heaviness of one carrying an immense weight. His head was bowed, hidden beneath a veil, and yet Andromeda knew him intimately. It was a connection that defied explanation—a bond forged beyond words.

"Erhard," she called out, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and longing. She repeated his name, her words echoing in the desolation, but he continued to walk, his pace unyielding. She quickened her steps, desperation rising within her.

"Erhard! Look back at me!" Her voice grew louder, more desperate, yet he remained distant, untouched by her calls. The ground beneath her began to tremble, cracks forming as if the very earth itself was fracturing. Panic surged through her as she tried to bridge the gap between them by clawing at the air to catch him and shouting louder and louder. "Why won't you stop? ERHARD!"

And then, the ground split open, a gaping chasm tearing through the landscape. Andromeda's scream of terror echoed in the air as she felt herself falling, the abyss swallowing her whole.

In the real world, the piercing sound of a voice cut through the dream. Andromeda's eyes snapped open, her cheeks wet with tears. Her surroundings were a stark contrast to the desolation of her dream—her luxurious chamber, adorned with opulent furnishings, bathed in gentle morning light.

Dennis, her devoted maid, stood by her bedside, concern etched across her features. "Your Highness, are you alright?"

Andromeda blinked, her vision adjusting to the reality around her. She wiped away her tears, her gaze distant yet piercing. "Water," she whispered, her voice raw and cold.

Dennis moved swiftly, fetching a glass of water and offering it to Andromeda. As she sipped, the cool liquid eased the remnants of her distressing dream. Andromeda set the glass down, her eyes focusing on her maid.

"The duke has summoned you, Your Highness," Dennis informed gently, her eyes revealing a mixture of empathy and worry.

Andromeda's gaze shifted to her wrinkled dress, a testament to the sleep that had ensnared her. She nodded, her expression a mask of composure. "Help me change."

With practiced efficiency, Dennis assisted Andromeda in changing into a fresh outfit, her nimble fingers smoothing out the wrinkles with care. As the fabric settled around Andromeda's form, the maid couldn't help but notice the subtle change in her demeanor. The princess who had always exuded maturity and calm now seemed even more distant, her demeanor colder, her eyes harboring a depth of emotions that were usually concealed.