Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

Not by an army.

Not by demons.

Not by the Emperor.

But by a six-year-old girl who liked strawberry tarts and plush animals.

Outside the carriage window, the Imperial Capital continued buzzing with rumors.

By sunset, the nobles would have a new scandal to discuss.

The Northern Reaper had been seen buying children’s pastries and stuffed animals.

Nobody knew why.

Nobody dared ask.

And nobody would ever suspect the truth.

The most terrifying man in the Empire was simply going home to his daughter.

”The tactical acquisition is complete,” Kaelus announced to the empty air, ignoring the swooning, terrified ladies on the street. ”We return to the Sovereign.”

***

The atmosphere inside the Nacht Capital Estate was tense.

Seraphina von Nacht had been awake for exactly five hours. She had already executed her morning ghost-network debriefing, successfully reviewed Lady Genevieve’s intercepted, highly inaccurate spy reports, and reorganized her origami duck army for a secondary sweep of the cellar.

She was currently sitting on the sweeping, white marble steps of the estate’s main entrance, kicking her small, leather-booted feet against the stone.

She was waiting.

Sebastian stood silently behind her, his massive hands clasped behind his back, acting as a stoic, scarred gargoyle.

Sir Boris and Sir Lucas were pacing the courtyard, highly agitated by the prolonged absence of their Liege Lord.

”He’s been gone for two days, Mr. Sebastian,” Seraphina muttered, resting her chin in her hands, her dark eyes glued to the wrought-iron gates. ”Do you think the Emperor locked him in a dungeon?”

”If the Emperor attempted to detain His Grace against his will, My Lady, the Palace would currently be a smoking, frozen crater,” Sebastian rumbled, his single blue eye scanning the horizon. ”He is merely entangled in bureaucracy. It is a slow, tedious death.”

Seraphina puffed her cheeks out.

She knew, logically, that Kaelus was fine.

She knew he was a terrifying warlord.

But her six-year-old body, combined with the genuine, fierce attachment of her adult soul, was experiencing severe withdrawal symptoms from her grumpy hedgehog.

She missed his cold, pine-scented aura.

She missed his dramatic, overprotective scowls.

She just wanted her Papa.

Suddenly, the heavy iron gates of the estate groaned open.

The massive, black mythril carriage rolled into the cobblestone courtyard, the warhorses snorting, their hooves striking the stone with a rhythmic, heavy clatter.

Seraphina shot up from the steps like a rocket.

The carriage ground to a halt. Sir Lucas immediately rushed forward, pulling the heavy brass handle, throwing the door open.

Duke Kaelus von Nacht stepped out of the carriage.

He looked absolutely exhausted.

His violet eyes were shadowed, his face pale and drawn from forty-eight hours of political warfare.

But as he stepped onto the cobblestones, the sheer, ridiculous absurdity of his physical state became instantly apparent to the entire courtyard.

The terrifying Reaper of the North was holding a massive, fluffy white plush bunny under one arm, and three bright pink pastry boxes balanced precariously in his other hand.

He looked like a incredibly lethal delivery boy.

Sir Boris’s jaw dropped.

Sir Lucas covered his mouth to stifle a cough.

But Seraphina didn’t care about the boxes.

She didn’t care about the bunny.

”PAPA!”

The scream was a high-pitched, ecstatic shriek of pure joy.

Seraphina didn’t run down the stairs; she launched herself off the third step, completely bypassing the ground, turning her tiny body into a flying, crimson-clad projectile of affection.

Kaelus’s head snapped up.

His exhaustion vanished instantly.

His violet eyes widened as he saw the tiny blur hurtling toward him.

His tactical reflexes took over.

He couldn’t catch her while holding the fragile pastries.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Kaelus literally tossed the three expensive, highly delicate pink pastry boxes blindly over his shoulder into the air, completely abandoning them to gravity.

”Alistair! The cargo!” Kaelus barked, dropping the giant plush bunny to the cobblestones as he dropped to one knee, throwing his massive arms wide open.

Behind Kaelus, stepping out of the carriage, the beautiful, long-haired aide gasped in horror.

Alistair scrambled, diving forward with the agility of an acrobat, managing to catch the three pink boxes mere inches before they hit the dirt, sliding on his knees across the cobblestones, thoroughly ruining his pristine scholar robes.

Seraphina crashed into Kaelus’s chest with a heavy, solid OOF!

”You’re back!” Seraphina babbled happily, wrapping her small arms as tightly as she could around his thick, armored neck, burying her face into his velvet collar. ”You took forever! The shiny Emperor is a meanie for keeping you! I missed you so much!”

Kaelus didn’t care that he was in the middle of the courtyard.

He didn’t care that his elite knights were watching.

He wrapped his massive arms around her, pulling her flush against his chest, burying his face into her messy dark hair.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the sweet, familiar scent of vanilla and ozone.

The crushing, agonizing tension that had gripped his soul for two days evaporated instantly.

The freezing ice in his chest melted.

He was home.

”I am here, Mushroom,” Kaelus murmured, his voice a thick, incredibly tender rumble, rocking her gently back and forth. ”The Emperor was insufferable. But I have returned. I brought you the pink pastries. And a rabbit of superior structural softness.”

”You are the best Papa,” Seraphina smiled against his coat, her heart swelling with absolute, perfect contentment.

It was a beautiful, cinematic, heart-melting reunion.

Sir Boris was openly weeping near the fountain.

Sebastian offered a slow, approving nod.

But as Seraphina pulled back slightly, resting her hands on Kaelus’s shoulders to look at his face, her dark eyes drifted to the space just behind him.

Kneeling on the cobblestones, currently clutching three pink pastry boxes to his chest, panting heavily from his desperate dive, was Alistair.

Seraphina stared at the stranger.

She took in the flawless, porcelain skin.

The delicate, incredibly sharp, beautiful cheekbones. The brilliant, luminous emerald eyes framed by long lashes.

And, most importantly, the cascading waterfall of brilliant, shimmering blonde hair tied elegantly at the nape of his neck.

Her six-year-old brain, combined with a slightly mischievous, highly observant soul, processed the visual data and arrived at a logical, yet completely hilarious conclusion.

Seraphina blinked her large, dark eyes.

She looked back at Kaelus, then pointed a tiny finger over his shoulder at the panting aide.

”Papa,” Seraphina asked, her clear, childish voice carrying perfectly across the silent courtyard. ”Who is the pretty Auntie?”

The silence that fell over the Nacht Estate was absolute, total, and catastrophically devastating.

For a fraction of a second, the universe held its breath.

And then, the Vanguard broke.

Sir Boris let out a sound that was half-gasp, half-snort, slapping both of his massive hands over his mouth, his shoulders shaking so violently his armor rattled.

Sir Lucas turned entirely away from the group, staring at the stone wall, his scarred shoulders heaving as he desperately tried to suppress a fit of hysterical laughter.

Even Sebastian, the grizzled, emotionless veteran, had to pinch the bridge of his own nose, his single blue eye closing as a low, rumbling vibration of pure amusement shook his chest.

Alistair froze on the cobblestones.

The beautiful, flawless, aristocratic aide slowly lowered the pink pastry boxes.

His emerald eyes widened to the size of saucers.

His pale, porcelain skin instantly flushed a violent, apoplectic shade of crimson.

’Auntie?!’ Alistair’s internal monologue shrieked, his soul shattering into a million indignant pieces. ’She... she called me an Auntie?! I am a man! I am the Chief Administrative Aide to the Archduke! I am a scholar of the highest order! I merely possess superior hair genetics and impeccable skincare routines!’

Kaelus, still kneeling with Seraphina in his arms, felt his lips twitch.

He bit the inside of his cheek, violently crushing the urge to laugh, knowing that if he laughed, Alistair would likely resign on the spot.

”Seraphina,” Kaelus said, his voice suspiciously thick, expertly maintaining his serious facade. ”This is not an aunt. This is Alistair. He is my Chief Administrative Aide. He manages the logistics of the Duchy. He is... a man.”

Seraphina tilted her head, looking closely at Alistair’s furious, flushed face.

”Oh,” Seraphina said, looking unfazed, her tone completely devoid of apology.

She didn’t look embarrassed.

She looked amused. ”Ohh, I’m sorry. It’s just that your hair is so long and shiny. And your face is very... soft.”