"He cares for commoners, and the commoners know it," Mendelt went on. "He has their support already. There is no better candidate to put on the Strald throne."
Ares agreed to the risky strategy, reluctantly, and attached a condition to it that cooled the whole tent.
"If your new ally betrays us," he said, with absolutely level eyes, "even once — I will personally drag the entire Strald Empire down with him."
Satisfied, the prince accepted the terms and went off to speak with the emperor again.
Once they were alone, Ares caught Averifa's arm before she could follow.
"What did he do to you," he said. "During your capture. Exactly."
She tried to wave it off. "Nothing happened."
His grip tightened, and his expression grew so intense it stopped being readable.
"Don't even think about lying to me."
"Ares — you're hurting me!"
She cried out his name before she could stop herself, the pain sudden enough to take the composure out of her voice.
He let go instantly, startled at himself.
Still shaken, she straightened her sleeve and addressed the air somewhere to the left of him, formally. "Your grip was too strong. Forgive me for raising my voice."
Ares looked away.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Averifa stood absolutely still.
An apology. From him. In two lifetimes, that had never once happened.
She tried to gather herself and only made it worse.
"Just — call me by my name," she said.
He seemed to take that as an exchange rather than a permission.
"Then you may simply call me Ares."
This was completely different from her past life. He was closing the distance between them himself, willingly, one small step at a time, and it left her flustered in a way she had no defense prepared for.
To hide it she scoffed, said it was time to go home, and walked straight out of the tent.
Ares was left standing alone, watching her go, with a complicated expression on his face.
With the war concluded, Prince Mendelt's shrewd negotiations reshaped the continent inside a month.
The aggressive Strald Empire was officially dissolved and reborn as the Kingdom of Strald, under the firm protection of the Winstein Empire. In a public ceremony, its new king, Siwalt Grande Strald, pledged his full allegiance and promised to build a prosperous nation as a loyal ally.
The long conflict was finally over.
On the quiet battlefield, surrounded by their soldiers, Averifa and Ares stood together in the sort of silence that comes after everything has already been said.
"Is it time to go home?" someone asked.
Ares glanced at her, his expression unreadable, and agreed quietly.
For a brief moment there was something like peace between them.
They had just turned toward his massive dragon when a familiar voice called out.
"Averifa!"
It was Siwalt. The new king of Strald was watching her with a serious face.
"Are you really leaving?"
"Our work here is done," she said.
"Then come with me. To Strald."
She stared at him.
"As my queen," he said.
Averifa was not impressed.
"If you think a royal title is enough to make me stay," she said coolly, "you have seriously underestimated me."
He looked genuinely hurt. Then, in front of the assembled soldiers of two nations, the King of Strald dropped to one knee and took her hand.
"You are the first woman I have ever truly wanted."
While Averifa was flustered by the public display, Ares's expression turned to ice. His hand closed on the hilt of his sword, and behind his eyes went a thought that would have started a second war.
Averifa snatched her hand back. She turned away from the kneeling king to the silent duke, and looked directly at him.
"And what," she asked pointedly, "does my future have to do with you, anyway?"
Ares gave no answer at all.
His silence was the only reply she needed.
"We're going," she announced, and that was the end of the conversation.
They rose into the night sky together on his enormous dragon, and Colonel Finareo could only stand on the field and watch until the two of them were a speck and then nothing.
They flew north, and came in over the Duchy of Nozenleaf, and the duchy was already celebrating. The streets were packed. Citizens filled every square and every window, cheering their victorious leader home.
Then they landed in the main square, and a familiar scene played out in front of her and confirmed her deepest fears.
Lorenza came running past the guards, calling his name.
"Ares!"
She threw herself into his arms, crying that she had always known — always, from the first day — that he would come back to her.
And Ares accepted the embrace, and quietly agreed that he had.