As Aric and Thorin approached the grand entrance of Arkwright Manor, the guards stationed at the front gates bowed deeply—but not to Aric but Thorin. Their expressions were a mix of awe and apprehension as they avoided making eye contact with Aric altogether.
It was an odd sight, one that made him raise an eyebrow but ultimately choose to ignore it.
Before anyone could open the door, however, it swung inward violently, propelled by shadowy tendrils that snaked out like serpents from the darkness within. Seraphina stood in the doorway and she looked like she was about to kill Aric for breathing wrong.
Her blue eyes burned with fury, and the tendrils surrounding her writhed menacingly, each easily stretching over five meters long.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut steel. She stepped forward, her gaze never leaving Aric's face—until she noticed the towering figure beside him.
Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing again, this time with disbelief and mounting anger.
"You brought the Prince Dwarf here?!" she hissed, her tone laced with incredulity.
"Have you lost your damn mind!?"
Aric opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.
He froze, realizing just how deep he'd dug himself into trouble.
I didn't know he was royalty! He thought frantically.
Thorin never mentioned being a prin- Oh, of course, why else would the guards bow so reverently? Why else would he not tell me? They hate me but I really doubt they hate this Thorin guy and now I've dragged him straight into my mess—right into Seraphina's wrath no less.
Before he could process further, the tendrils shot toward him, wrapping around his waist and lifting him off the ground with alarming speed. Within seconds, he found himself suspended 100 meters above the estate, dangling precariously in mid-air while the wind whipped against his face.
Seraphina turned her attention back to Thorin, her expression shifting from rage to forced politeness.
"Your Highness." she said through gritted teeth, inclining her head slightly.
"Please forgive my husband's… incompetence. He clearly has no understanding of propriety or common sense."
Thorin crossed his arms, unimpressed by her display of power—or her attempt at diplomacy.
"Apologies aren't necessary." he replied coolly, his green eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Though I must admit, I'm curious about your accusations."
Seraphina bristled visibly, her tendrils twitching as though eager to lash out again.
"Curious?" she spat, turning fully towards the prince.
"He's reckless, irresponsible, and utterly devoid of honour! Need I remind you of the debts he's amassed? The alliances he's destroyed? Or perhaps the countless humiliations he's inflicted upon me personally?"
Thorin arched an eyebrow, unfazed by her tirade.
"All valid points. But based on what I've seen last night, I find myself questioning those claims. Well it's not like I believe him outright but he was different to me."
"What do you mean?" Seraphina snapped, her voice rising.
"Are you suggesting I'm lying?"
"No." Thorin countered smoothly.
"I'm merely saying your husband isn't acting like the man you describe. From what I observed, he's resourceful, innovative, and surprisingly humble for someone of his station. Not exactly traits associated with arrogance or recklessness."
Aric, still dangling high above them, felt a flicker of gratitude toward Thorin despite his precarious situation.
The prince is defending me?
He defended Aric not because he owed Aric anything, but because he genuinely believed there was more to the story.
Seraphina scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.
"Resourceful? Humble? You clearly don't know him. Dwarves rarely collaborate with humans, well ever since the Great War. Hell, you refuse audiences with the King William himself! Why would you suddenly take interest in someone like...him?"
Thorin smirked, leaning casually against the doorway frame.
"Perhaps because I'm intrigued. Your husband pitched ideas unlike anything I've encountered before—electricity-powered devices, innovations that could revolutionize our way of life. Are you telling me you're not even remotely curious?"
"I'm telling you this." Seraphina shot back, her voice icy
"Trusting him is as smart of an idea as giving a thief with gold, a playboy with women or an addict with drugs. It's a mistake. He's manipulative, deceitful—"
"And conveniently suffering from amnesia?" Thorin interrupted dryly.
"Isn't that convenient?"
Seraphina stiffened, her glare intensifying. "How did you—"
"He told me." Thorin admitted with a shrug.
"Even if I didn't believe him, he didn't act like someone who remembered ruining half his own kingdom. Plus, the way he spoke about these inventions—it wasn't rehearsed. It was genuine enthusiasm. Like he truly believes they'll work."
Seraphina looked torn between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. Her grip on the tendrils loosened slightly, though she quickly tightened it again when she caught herself.
"Even if that's true." she argued
"It doesn't change what he's done. The damage he's caused."
"Of course not." Thorin conceded, his tone softening slightly.
"But hear me out: put him down for now. Let him prove himself—or fail trying. Either way, you'll get answers. And trust me, 'Your Grace', my word carries weight among both humans and dwarves alike. Everyone knows I don't mince words."
Seraphina jaw clenching as she weighed his words. Finally, she exhaled sharply, releasing her hold on the tendrils. Aric plummeted downward briefly before Thorin caught him effortlessly, lowering him gently to the ground.
"Thank you." Aric muttered weakly, brushing dirt off his clothes as he stood upright. His legs wobbled slightly from the adrenaline rush, but he managed to compose himself.
Thorin gave him a pointed look. "Next time, try not to piss off a woman with dark magic."
Without another word, Seraphina turned on her heel and strode back inside the manor, her movements stiff with barely contained anger. Before disappearing into the hallway, she paused momentarily, casting a final glance over her shoulder.
"This is your only chance, Vayne." she warned coldly, her voice carrying a deadly edge.
"One wrong move—one single misstep, one fucking complain and I won't hesitate to kill you myself."
With that, she vanished, leaving Aric standing awkwardly beside Thorin and the nervous guards.
"Well," Thorin said after a beat, breaking the silence. "That went better than expected."
Aric groaned, "Somehow, I doubt that."
Inside her private office, Seraphina paced furiously, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the dim light streaming through the tall windows. The encounter with Thorin and Vayne replayed over and over in her mind, each detail gnawing at her already frayed nerves.
Evelyn Hartley stood near the doorway, arms crossed over her sleek black armour as she watched her mistress with quiet concern. Marguerite, the head maid, hovered nearby, clutching a tray laden with untouched tea and biscuits.
James, the head butler—a man who had served House Arkwright for decades—looked unusually unsettled, his usually composed demeanor replaced by thinly veiled apprehension.
"Well?" Seraphina snapped suddenly, stopping mid-stride to glare at them all.
"Someone explain to me what just happened. Why is the Prince of Dwarves. You know, the one who hasn't collaborated with humanity since the war three centuries ago—suddenly standing on our doorstep? And why the fuck does he seem convinced that Vayne isn't the same useless piece of shit we've endured for years?"
Evelyn shifted uncomfortably, while Marguerite exchanged uneasy glances with James. Finally, the head butler cleared his throat hesitantly.
"Perhaps… perhaps it has something to do with Master Vayne's recent behaviour." he suggested cautiously.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"His recent behaviour ? What behaviour? The part where he vanished into the woods like an idiot, only to return dragging literal royalty into my house without warning? Or maybe the part where he somehow managed to convince said royalty to defend him after everything he's done?"
"Your Grace." Evelyn interjected gently, stepping forward.
"It's possible his amnesia has changed him. From what we've seen these, his actions don't align with the reckless, entitled man we know."
Seraphina let out a bitter laugh, slamming her fist against the desk hard enough to rattle the teacups.
"Amnesia? Really? That's your excuse? It's been just a day Evelyn. For months he was in a coma from being assassinated and within just a FUCKING day, he's back to causing chaos again. If that deadbeat, cheating bastard screws this up—if he makes Thorin even annoyed—I swear to every living being here that I'll torture him myself before killing him."
The room fell silent, save for the faint rustling of papers as Seraphina snatched up the divorce documents sitting on her desk. She stared at them for a long moment. To anyone else, they might have looked like a lifeline—a way out of the mess Vayne had created.
But Seraphina knew better. Divorce wasn't just a personal decision; it was political suicide.
James finally broke the silence, his voice low and measured.
"Perhaps, Your Grace, his intentions aren't entirely malicious. After all, bringing Prince Thorin here could be seen as… strategic. If his inventions prove successful—"
"Strategic?" Seraphina interrupted sharply, rounding on him.
"Do you really believe that? Or are you just trying to rationalize his idiocy because you're afraid of what happens if he fails? Because I don't need to remind you the shit he has done to us."
Everyone exchanged somber looks, silently agreeing with her sentiment. They'd all suffered under Vayne's rule—whether directly or indirectly—and none of them trusted him to change.
Amnesia or not, he is still the same man who had ruined lives, betrayed alliances, and left House Arkwright teetering on the brink of ruin.
Seraphina exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.
"Fine. We'll play along—for now. But mark my words: if Vayne so much as breathes wrong around Thorin, I won't hesitate to end him."
"Yes, Your Grace." the trio replied in unison, their voices carrying equal parts fear and determination.