I Died on My Wedding Day

II: Eloise's premonition

The sky above Vaelcryss slowly changed color, from pale white to bruised purple. The weak sun sank behind the mountains, bringing back the bone-piercing cold.

In front of the main stables, Alaric dismounted from his black stallion. The horse’s breath billowed thickly in the frozen air. With practiced ease, he helped Rosieta down. She landed gracefully, her cheeks flushed—whether from the cold or from the thrill of the hunt, he could not tell.

“Thank you for protecting me today, Lord Alaric,” Rosieta said as she straightened her riding dress. Her gaze lingered on him, difficult to read. “I will not forget your bravery against that bear.”

Alaric gave a brief nod and handed the reins to a rushing stablehand.

“Get some rest, Lady Rosieta. The evening banquet will begin soon. The Northern night is not kind to those who are not used to it.”

“Of course.” Rosieta smiled faintly—a sweet smile that never reached her eyes.

“Until we meet at the table, my lord.”

Alaric watched her back until she disappeared through the great castle doors. A strange feeling lingered in his chest—like déjà vu—but he brushed it aside. He had greater responsibilities than troubled thoughts.

---

The Young Lord’s Chamber

The fire in Alaric’s chamber roared, casting orange light against the cold stone walls.

He had just finished washing. Now he wore formal black attire, embroidered with the silver sigil of House Hildebrand on his left chest. Over his shoulders rested a thick wolf-fur cloak—the symbol of his status as the North’s heir.

He stood before the mirror, studying his reflection. His jet-black hair was still damp, and his ruby eyes looked tired.

Knock. Knock.

“Enter,” Alaric said calmly.

The heavy oak door opened. A young woman stepped inside. Her long, straight black hair fell down her back, and eyes the same red as Alaric’s gazed at him gently.

It was Eloise, his second sister.

“Brother, may I sit?” she asked politely. Unlike her hot-headed twin, Eloise carried a calm aura, like the surface of a still lake.

“Of course, Eloise.” A rare warmth softened Alaric’s voice as he pulled a velvet chair closer to the fireplace.

Eloise sat, her hands folded in her lap. For a moment, she watched the dancing flames in silence.

“I have a bad feeling, Brother,” she murmured suddenly. Her voice was barely louder than the crackling wood.

“About the people from the South. About House Caelthrone.”

Alaric let out a long breath and sat across from her, leaning forward.

“You feel it too?”

Eloise nodded. “Lord Lucien’s smile… his daughter’s eyes… there is something hidden behind their kindness. Something cold.”

“I understand,” Alaric said honestly. “But look beyond these walls, Eloise. Our people are starving. Our granaries are empty because winter has lasted too long. If this alliance can save even one child’s life, then our suspicions must be set aside.”

Eloise lowered her head, gripping her dress.

“I know. It is our duty as Hildebrands.”

Seeing her worry, Alaric stood and gently patted the top of her head.

“Do not worry. As long as I hold a sword, no one will touch Vaelcryss. By the way, where is Elodie? It’s strange not to see her clinging to you.”

Eloise chuckled softly. “Elodie is being punished by Mother. She skipped her ethics lesson to practice archery again. Now she’s copying history texts while sulking because you went hunting without her.”

Alaric laughed quietly. “No wonder my ears were ringing earlier.”

“But Brother,” Eloise added, her eyes lighting up as she spoke of her favorite topic, “I read some old archives today. About the Second Great War. The miasma from Mystery Mountain wasn’t just poison. Ancient records say it can affect the mind—turning animals into bloodthirsty monsters… just like the bear you fought today, isn’t it?”

Alaric fell silent, remembering the bear’s glowing yellow eyes—eyes filled with madness rather than instinct.

“You truly are Vaelcryss’s future scholar,” he praised, though he stored the information as a silent warning.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A maid appeared at the door.

“Forgive the interruption, Young Lord, Lady Eloise. The Lady of the House requests that all ladies prepare for the banquet.”

Eloise rose gracefully. “I must go, Brother. Do not keep Lady Rosieta waiting,” she teased before leaving.

---

The Twins’ Chamber

The atmosphere here was far more chaotic.

Elodie stood before a large mirror, scowling as Nurse Griselda tugged a brush through her wavy black hair.

“Ow! Be gentle!” Elodie complained.

“If you stop wriggling like a caterpillar, it wouldn’t hurt,” Griselda replied patiently.

The door opened, revealing Eloise in a dark blue velvet gown, a white wolf-fur mantle on her shoulders—their matching attire symbolizing House Hildebrand’s unity.

“You’re taking forever, El,” Eloise remarked.

“Don’t start,” Elodie grumbled. “Brother must have looked amazing fighting that bear, huh? So unfair he brought that Southern lady instead of me!”

Suddenly, a small white wolf curled in the corner—Snow, Elodie’s pet—let out a low growl. It paced restlessly and scratched the stone floor.

“What’s wrong with Snow?” Eloise asked.

Elodie knelt, stroking the wolf’s fur. “He’s been restless since sunset. He won’t eat or sleep. He only acts like this when a great storm is coming… or—”

She stopped.

Eloise sighed. “Or when danger is near. I told Brother I had a bad feeling about our guests.”

Elodie’s eyes widened. “We actually agree for once? You usually say my instincts are excuses to avoid studying.”

“This time, I’m serious,” Eloise said.

But Elodie straightened proudly, her wide grin returning.

“Relax! We have Brother Alaric!” she declared.

“He’s the greatest swordsman in the North! If he can slay mountain monsters, he can handle a bad feeling or two-faced Southern nobles. He always wins, right?”

Eloise wished she could share that confidence—but the image of Alaric’s weary ruby eyes would not leave her mind.

“I hope you’re right, El,” she whispered.

Outside, the wind howled louder, as if the world itself were screaming a warning no one could hear. In the Great Hall, music began to play—and knives were being sharpened.

Or perhaps… not only dinner knives were being prepared tonight.