The victory feast had already lasted three hours. The Hall of the Crimson Raven — the very same hall where Amanda had first appeared before the court in her golden armor — now glowed with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across crystal and gold. The tables groaned under the weight of countless dishes, wine flowed like a river, and musicians took turns playing, but the true sound of the evening was the whispering.
Whispers slithered through the hall like a snake, slipping into every crack, every corner, every soul.
Roxana Aichenwald stood by the window, holding a glass of wine she had yet to bring to her lips. She was watching her brother. Watching him and her.
Randel sat beside the Guardian. Not across from her. Not at the far end of the table. Right beside her. Their chairs were pushed so close they touched. His bandaged — but no longer aching — arm rested along the back of her chair, almost embracing her. Her golden armor had been left in her chambers. Tonight she wore a dress the color of an autumn forest — deep green, embroidered with silver thread — and no mask. Just her face. Just those red eyes that looked at Randel with such warmth that Roxana felt both happy and… a little sad.
“You’ve been staring at them for three hours straight,” came Kaito Tsubame’s voice beside her. Roxana startled. “Going to stop anytime soon?”
“I’m not staring,” she lied.
“You’re not even blinking.”
Roxana turned to him. The young heir of House Swallow was dressed in a new, stylish and expensive doublet, but there was no usual mockery in his eyes tonight — only tired understanding.
“They’re already together,” he said, watching Randel and Amanda. “Officially. Even though no one has announced it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Look at the way he looks at her. That’s not the gaze of a victor admiring his trophy. That’s the gaze of a man who has finally found what he’s been searching for his whole life.”
Roxana stayed silent. She saw the same thing.
“And her?” she asked.
“She looks at him the same way,” Kaito smirked. “Just a little more shyly. Probably because she’s still not used to being without her mask.”
“You notice a lot.”
“I observe a lot. They’re different things.”
Roxana finally took a sip of wine. It was warm and tart, like autumn itself.
“Do you think it will last?” she asked.
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“It’s forever,” Kaito replied. “Or didn’t you see how he carried her in his arms after the battle? How he looked at her when she removed her helmet? How he…” He trailed off, noticing that Roxana had blushed. “Sorry. I forgot you’re his sister.”
“Forget again and I’ll kill you.”
They both laughed, and in that laughter there was a lightness that hadn’t been there that morning.
At the other end of the hall, near the fireplace, three figures stood.
Ren Jinja held a book in his hands — the very same one he had left behind before the battle and then spent nearly two hours searching for after his return. He had found it. Now he was gently stroking its cover as if it were alive.
“She is not a goddess,” he said, gazing at Amanda.
Akira Hanasaku, standing beside him, raised an eyebrow.
“You decided that after she stopped the horde? After she taught Violet a new flame? After Randel — who has never looked at anyone that way — now looks at her like she’s a miracle?”
“She said it herself,” Ren replied. “She said she simply asked. Not a spell. Not power. She just… asked.”
“And that makes her not a goddess?”
“That makes her human,” Ren closed the book. “But perhaps that is the real miracle. Not power. But the ability to ask. The ability to believe.”
Akira looked at him, and there was something like respect in his eyes.
“You’ve changed, Jinja.”
“War changes everyone.”
“Not the war,” Akira said, his gaze shifting back to Amanda. “Her.”
In the center of the hall, at the main table, sat the Aichenwald family.
Tywin was calm. He drank little and spoke even less, but his gaze kept returning to his son.
Eleonora was crying. Non-stop. She would smile through her tears, then cry again. She held Randel’s hand tightly and refused to let go.
“Mother,” he said gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know,” she sniffled. “I’m just… I’m just so happy you survived that battle.”
“You should be twice as happy,” Randel said, glancing at Amanda. “You have a daughter now.”
Eleonora turned to the girl. She looked at her face — so young, so vulnerable, so… ordinary.
“My child,” she said, taking Amanda’s hands in hers. “Do you accept?”
Amanda looked at her, and the words caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to say it. She was a fraud. An impostor. A guy who had somehow ended up in a girl’s body — a body that had accidentally saved their country.
But right now, looking into Randel’s mother’s eyes, she felt only one thing.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I accept.”
Eleonora burst into tears again. Roxana turned away, pretending to study something inside her wine glass. Tywin cleared his throat and stared up at the ceiling. And Randel simply squeezed Amanda’s hand and smiled.
“Now you’re ours,” he said. “Forever.”
“I’ve always been yours,” she replied. “I just didn’t know it.”
The whispers in the hall did not fade. But they had changed.
“They’re going to announce the engagement,” some said.
“She’ll become part of the family,” said others.
“This will change everything,” added a third group.
And they were right. It would change everything.
But right now, on this evening, no one was thinking about politics. About power. About the future. In this moment, everyone was thinking about only one thing — about those who had returned. About those who had survived. About those who had given them this night.
Amanda sat beside Randel, feeling the warmth of his hand, and looked at the people who believed in her. Who loved her. Who had made her part of their family.
And she knew — she was no longer alone. She finally had a home. And she would protect it. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. Because this was her home. Her family. Her life.
“What are you thinking about?” Randel asked.
“About how good it feels to be human,” she answered.
“You’ve always been human,” he said softly. “You just didn’t know it.”
She looked at him. At his eyes — alive, real, full of love. And she smiled.
“Now I know.”