[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke
Chapter 299: A mischievous Fairy Ready To Cause Trouble

Chapter 299: A mischievous Fairy Ready To Cause Trouble

The rustle of fabric broke the spell of that put everyone in trance. The gazes, though reluctant, shifted from Xion to the Archduke.

Darius was descending the steps of the podium.

His movements were less like walking and more like drifting, as though even gravity dared not hinder his grace.

The obsidian robe shimmered under the enchantment lights, and the silver embroidery along the hems caught every flicker of light, perfectly matching his silver hair.

Only Xion noticed that Darius had styled his hair the same way Xion had once done for him.

The braided crown was fastened with the same winged hairpin Xion had left behind before fleeing to Faymere.

So, when Darius descended the final step and turned toward him, Xion halted as well.

He watched how the great Archduke bowed to him with utmost reverence, silently offering him his hand.

The silence that stretched was deafening for the guests, who held their breath, not even daring to gasp aloud.

A smile flickered in his blue eyes. Honestly, what was he even worrying about? As long as Darius was here, everything would be fine. Had it not always been like this?

Without hesitation, he placed his hand into the larger one, and it was instantly clasped tight.

Ah, Xion sensed it, the heat that lingered on the wide palm. Darius is tense.

The smile on his face widened an inch, mirroring the tilt on the Archduke’s lips.

Without Xion being conscious of it, something shifted in the atmosphere.

The air warmed despite the ever-present chill. Gasps and hushed murmurs rippled through the crowd. Nobles stiffened, attendants dropped their gazes, and even the close ministers blinked as if witnessing an illusion.

Darius Rael Darkhelm was smiling.

Not smirking. Not coldly amused. But smiling—softly, genuinely, as if the weight of a thousand winters had been lifted away.

To most of the noble crowd, it was a miracle. The devil Archduke smiling in front of hundreds? They could barely process it.

Of course, his closest entourage and even the old steward were not as surprised. They had long since known that His Grace only acted like that for one person.

Still, it was a sight rare enough to make them pause.

Xion didn’t seem to notice the ripple he had caused. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. His bright blue eyes were fixed solely on Darius.

They stood facing one another, hand in hand, and the admiration in their gazes was far from being subtle.

Xion couldn’t help but think, how unfairly handsome this man is.

Even when Darius gently led him up to the podium, his gaze was fixed on the broad back of his lover.

No—his husband. The title sent a strange current through him, one that made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t explain.

Meanwhile, Darius’ thoughts were of a different kind entirely.

My Xion is so, so pretty. Why did I let him be dressed like this in front of everyone? I should’ve hidden him under seven layers of armor.

Xion may not have noticed, but how could Darius miss the overly eager stares aimed at his lover?

Some were openly staring at Xion. Others were sneakier, but their sideways glances were no less offensive.

So disgusting.

His pale venomous gaze swept over the crowd, and suddenly, all those noble visitors, all those finely dressed witnesses of his marriage, felt like dust motes plaguing his eyes.

His eyes narrowed slightly. His mind began spiraling into that familiar madness—that delicious chaos whispering in his ear, tempting him to snap every neck in sight.

Nonetheless, a gentle tug brought him back to his senses.

He looked at the small figure staring at him with a bashful smile and motioned him to lower his head with a tiny wave of his hand.

Darius obeyed, lowering his head near Xion and waiting patiently.

A warm breath ghosted across his cheek, and then came that sweet voice.

"You look so gorgeous. So, so handsome."

Darius took a deep breath. He stared at Xion, who was winking at him, acting like a mischievous fairy, ready to cause trouble.

I want to kiss him...

If not for the arrival of the elder overseeing the ceremony, Darius might’ve done it then and there.

He stared at the priestess of the night, dressed in a red dress that matched her hair perfectly.

The Archduke secretly breathed a sigh of relief, thanking Serena for stepping in at the perfect moment.

While Serena began explaining the significance of the day, Darius silently helped Xion remove his outer robe.

It was, without a doubt, heavy, and there was no need to wear it inside the grand hall. He could keep Xion warm with his magic. More importantly, he didn’t want Xion to get tired.

After all, there was still plenty of time before they would be able to rest in their chambers.

His sweetheart would need his strength later, after all. No?

After helping Xion into the chair, Darius plopped beside him.

But to call it merely a "chair" was a crime.

The throne they now sat upon was a creation of both wonder and terrifying legacy. This was theseat carved solely from special dark stone held together with threads of molten gold.

Its high back rose in an elegant arc, and at its peak was a sculpted crest of the ancient royal house: a wolf encircled by seven stars, each one set with a different elemental gem, glittering softly under the hall’s enchantment lights.

This was won over the ancestors of Darkhelm’s house when they defeated the king and tossed him away into the slums.

That was also how the first King from the Velaria clan, the side branch of the royalty of that time, came into real power

This was the sign of rebellion against the royalty, and only Darius dared to show it so blatantly. That too, on the day of the death of the king Velaria.

It was almost as if he was saying, ’if they could overthrow the crown before, he could do it now too’.

Even empty, the throne dared anyone to challenge the will of the one seated upon it.

And now, Xion sat there, side by side with Darius, his back straight but his legs barely brushing the ground, a silver silk sash pooling at his feet.

He looked like an angel beside the cold Archduke, yet the throne seemed to welcome him all the same.

A few guests instinctively averted their eyes.

One did not stare too long at gods seated on altars, after all. So what if the god was the devil and the one being held captive was the blessing of the goddess?

It was not their turn to speak, so they remained silent. Just like the grooms who were listening to Serena’s words with serious faces.