AVELINE

The first thing I noticed as I woke was the oppressive quiet of the room, broken only by the faint rustling of the curtains in the afternoon breeze. Sunlight filtered through, warm and golden, illuminating the intricate carvings on the ceiling above me. My body felt heavy, as though the weight of the past three days on the battlefield had settled into my very bones. Every movement sent echoes of soreness rippling through me, but it was not unpleasant—it was the ache of survival, of hard-won triumph.

"My lady," came a voice, soft but steady, pulling me from my thoughts.

Amy, the head maid of the Duke's castle and my personal attendant, stood by the bedside with her usual composure. Her crisp uniform was immaculate, not a hair out of place, but her brow furrowed ever so slightly—a small crack in her otherwise serene demeanor.

"You're awake," she said with quiet relief. "It's well into the afternoon."

"Afternoon?" I croaked, my voice scratchy. My throat was dry, and my stomach gave an audible growl, betraying how long it had been since I'd last eaten.

"Yes, my lady," Amy replied, her tone matter-of-fact but tinged with concern. "You've been asleep since yesterday evening. You even missed dinner."

Dinner. I had been so exhausted after returning to the castle that I hadn't even been aware of falling asleep. Memories of the battlefield flickered through my mind—flashes of monstrous hordes, the heat of Elryx's fire scorching the air, the cries of soldiers and the Duke's commanding voice cutting through the chaos.

"I'll prepare your bath, my lady," Amy continued. "Afterward, I'll help you dress for lunch. His Grace has requested your presence."

"Lunch?" I echoed, sitting up slowly. My muscles protested the movement. "Why?"

"The Duke wishes to dine with you," Amy said, her words measured but firm. "It seems he has matters to discuss."

I nodded, though curiosity sparked within me. The Duke rarely summoned me for meals unless there was a reason.

An hour later, after a soothing bath and Amy's meticulous assistance in dressing me in a modest yet elegant gown, I found myself standing at the grand dining hall doors. They loomed before me, towering and ornately carved with the Lytheryss family crest. Two attendants opened them with synchronized precision, revealing the opulent room within.

The table stretched long, its polished surface reflecting the glittering chandelier above. Silverware gleamed, and the faint aroma of roasted meat and warm spices filled the air. I approached my seat near the head of the table, nerves fluttering in my stomach. The Duke had not yet arrived.

Minutes ticked by, and just as I began to fidget, the heavy doors opened again. Duke Edric Lytheryss entered, his stride purposeful but unhurried. He wore his usual dark attire, accented with the deep silver embroidery of his station, and his sharp gaze softened ever so slightly as he approached me.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting," he said, his voice as calm and commanding as ever. "I had some matters to finalize."

"No, Your Grace, it's quite all right," I replied, standing briefly out of respect before sitting as he gestured for me to do so.

Servants began bringing out the first course—cordon bleu, beautifully plated and accompanied by a rich sauce and crisp vegetables. The aroma alone made my mouth water, and I couldn't help but smile.

"I see they've prepared your favorite," the Duke noted, his tone almost amused.

"Yes, Your Grace," I said softly. "Thank you."

The Duke took a moment to enjoy his own plate before setting down his utensils and fixing me with a thoughtful gaze. "You'll be turning eighteen this year, will you not?"

The question caught me off guard. Seventeen? I had been so consumed by recent events—the battlefield, my training, adjusting to life in the Duke's castle—that I hadn't even thought of my upcoming birthday.

"Yes, Your Grace," I said, nodding slowly.

The Duke leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. "I've been considering something. How would you feel about making your social debut?"

My fork froze midway to my mouth. "A debutante...?" I echoed, disbelief creeping into my voice.

"Yes," he said, as though it were the most natural suggestion in the world. "His Majesty has agreed to host it in the Imperial Ballroom."

My breath caught. "The Imperial Ballroom?" I repeated, stunned.

The Duke's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile at my reaction. "It's a fitting venue for someone under my protection."

Under normal circumstances, I would have been overjoyed. A debutante ball was a rite of passage, a chance to step into society as an adult. But for someone like me—a former outcast, a girl once labeled an illegitimate child—it felt almost surreal.

"I... I'd be honored, Your Grace," I finally managed.

"Good," he said simply. Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke again, his tone more hesitant than I'd ever heard it. "There's something else I've been meaning to ask you."

"Yes?" I prompted, curious.

"Have you ever thought of cutting ties with the House of Thorne?"

The question was so sudden, so unexpected, that I nearly dropped my fork. Memories of the Thorne family surfaced unbidden—my stepmother's scorn, my father's indifference, the whispers and jeers of my so-called siblings.

"Yes," I admitted quietly. "But I've never known how to go about it."

The Duke nodded, his gaze steady. "There is a way. I've been gathering evidence against the Thorne family—proof of the abuse you endured under their care."

My eyes widened. "You've been...?"

"I have," he confirmed. "And the courts have already approved the severance. All that remains is your signature."

My heart swelled with gratitude, but before I could speak, the Duke continued.

"There's more," he said, almost awkwardly. "I've also been considering... adopting you."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. I stared at him, unsure if I'd heard correctly.

"Adopting me?" I echoed.

"Yes," he said. "You've proven yourself time and again, not just as a warrior but as someone worthy of the Lytheryss name. If you agree, you would officially become my daughter—Aveline von Lytheryss."

I blinked, overwhelmed. For years, I had longed for a family that truly cared for me, for a place where I belonged. And now, the Duke—the man who had saved me from the Thorne family's clutches—was offering me that chance.

Without hesitation, I said, "I would be honored, Your Grace."

The Duke gave a small nod, and moments later, Sir Derrick entered the room, carrying a stack of documents. He placed them on the table before me, explaining their contents. The first was the official severance from the House of Thorne, already approved by the courts. The second was the adoption document, bearing the Duke's signature.

My hands trembled slightly as I signed both.

When it was done, the Duke said, "From this day forward, you are Aveline von Lytheryss."

The weight of the name settled over me—not as a burden, but as a shield, a new identity that carried the Duke's legacy.

"Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion.

The Duke nodded. "We'll leave for Thorne Manor the day after tomorrow. You'll need to inform them yourself."

"We?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes," he said firmly. "I'll accompany you on the journey. But rest assured, I have no intention of facing the Thorne family directly. That part will be yours to handle."

Relief and determination coursed through me. For the first time in years, I felt truly free, unshackled from my past.

As I looked at the Duke, I saw not just a mentor, but a father—a man who had given me a future when I'd thought I had none.

This expanded version delves deeper into Aveline's emotions, the Duke's motivations, and the significance of these life-changing events. It weaves in richer details and dialogue to enhance the storytelling.