Evelyn, a modern woman, finds herself suddenly transmigrated into a novel where her peaceful life is turned upside down by a crazy Duke who happens to be her husband. Her new life is a maze of danger and betrayal, as the Duke is determined to kill h...
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Inside the duchess office, Arya sat hunched over her desk, the soft scratching of her quill against parchment filling the room. Suddenly, a gentle knock interrupted her concentration, and Arya looked up to see Ivan leaning casually against the doorframe. His presence brought a fleeting smile to her lips, but she quickly composed herself, focusing on the task at hand. "what's bring you here at this time? Should not you be in the drill hall?"
Feigning injury, Ivan put on a mockingly sad expression. "Are you driving me away? How harsh!" he quipped, before strolling into the room and making himself comfortable on the plush sofa."How's your work going? Are you done with it?"
Putting down her pen inside the ink bottle, Arya eyed Ivan rising an eyebrow. Her elbows resting on the table, she interwine her fingers as she placed her chin on them, "am I being invited to accompany you?" she teased, her voice tinged with mischief.
"I was about to head towards the drill hall. How about you join me in a dull?" At Ivan's suggestion Arya froze. The memory of her nearly killing a knight still hunt her, afraid what would happen if she ever touch a sword. Her hand reach for the quill pen, as again she starts doing her paperwork; her tone becoming more businesslike.
"I'm afraid I must decline your offer," she replied, her voice tinged. "There's still much work left to do, and we barely have time for slacking. Winter has already begun, as well as the ball is next week. If the preparations are not done properly, it will stain the Dragun's name. Also after I am done with the ball preparation, we have to work on how to deal with this harsh cold this time around. I'm afraid I've got no time."
Ivan was glad as well as proud that she was attentive of her duties and giving her best in doing them. Even though he said that she does not need to engage with the states affairs. However, her work is flawless, the method she use it's easy to understand and and can contains the data's so clearly also perfectly. Although Arya was stating the necessary, he couldn't miss the fear in her eyes. She was scared after what had happened that day, scared of the sword.
She was talented with the sword, it may hurt ones pride however, she is far more talented than the black knights. But her fear, her softness, weighed her down. She was a uniquely talented individual, and he believed she could be a great swordswoman, capable of dominating the battlefield. He wished she would overcome this fear of hers, as well as genuinely wanted to help her, but seeing as she declined him, he was put in a tough position as to how he could assist her.
The week days pass fastly as we all knows how short winter daytime's are, Ivan approach Arya several times to invite her but each time using excuses she declined his approach.
As winter gently descends, signaling the arrival of the much-anticipated winter ball, the first ball of winter, the air in the northern realms fills with excitement and anticipation. This cherished event, steeped in tradition and history, serves as a beacon of joy for the northerners, a celebration passed down from generation to generation. Under the watchful eye of the duchess, the esteemed overseer of this grand affair, meticulous preparations unfurl in the opulent halls of the noble estate. Every detail, from the intricate floral arrangements adorning the grand ballroom to the shimmering array of silver and crystal table settings, is crafted with precision and care.
