Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~8 min read
The first thing Raven did as Shadow Princess was claim Draven back.
The celebration was still ongoing, nobles congratulating her and evaluating their political positions, when she stood on the arena floor and called for silence.
“Shadow Court,” her voice carried with new authority—throne magic enhancing it. “I have taken the crown through combat. But I didn’t do it to rule alone.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Draven Shadowfire has ruled this court for three hundred years with strength, cunning, and strategic brilliance. His knowledge is irreplaceable. His capability is unmatched.” She looked directly at him. “I claim him as my co-ruler. My equal. My partner in leading the Shadow Court.”
The crowd erupted in whispers. This wasn’t traditional. New rulers usually eliminated the old to prevent power struggles.
But Raven wasn’t traditional.
“By right of the throne, I offer you position as Shadow Prince alongside me.” She extended her hand. “Will you rule beside me?”
Draven’s expression softened. “You’re asking instead of ordering?”
“We’re partners. Partners ask.” She kept her hand out. “So I’m asking. Will you share the throne I just took from you?”
His smile was brilliant. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
He took her hand, and the throne magic responded. Flowing from her to him, reestablishing his connection to the court but different now. Shared power. Equal authority.
The crowd’s whispers turned to shocked acceptance. The Shadow Court had two rulers now. Princess and Prince. Equal partners.
Unprecedented but legal. And after watching Raven defeat Draven in combat, no one was going to argue with her first royal decree.
Lord Malachai was first to kneel. “Shadow Princess. Shadow Prince. The court recognizes you both.”
Others followed—a cascade of nobles acknowledging the new order. Raven watched it with surreal detachment. Twenty-nine days ago, she’d infiltrated this court to kill its prince. Now she was its princess, and he was standing beside her as equal.
Life was bizarre.
After the formal acknowledgments, Vex approached with a knowing smile. “Congratulations, Princess. That was the most politically complicated assassination attempt in history.”
“I prefer to think of it as aggressive career advancement.” Raven touched the crown still on her head. “How much trouble am I in for immediately reinstating him?”
“Surprisingly little. The court respects capability, and you just proved yours. Choosing to rule alongside someone who knows the systems shows strategic wisdom.” Vex’s expression turned serious. “Though you’ll need to formalize the power-sharing quickly. Draw up new governance documents, redefine responsibilities, make it official.”
“I’ll handle that,” Draven said. “I know exactly how to structure dual monarchy without triggering succession conflicts.”
“Of course you do.” Raven shook her head. “You’ve been planning this.”
“I’ve been preparing for multiple scenarios. This happened to be the best one.” His hand found hers. “Come on. Let’s address the court officially, then we have about a thousand political details to handle before we can actually celebrate.”
They spent the next several hours in the throne room—now plural thrones, hastily arranged—addressing nobles, receiving oaths of fealty, and establishing the new order. Raven relied heavily on Draven for protocol and proper responses, and the court seemed pleased that she was smart enough to use available expertise.
By sunset, the political necessities were complete. The Shadow Court had two rulers, officially recognized, legally established.
And Raven was exhausted.
She collapsed into one of the thrones—hers now, though it felt strange—and let her head fall back. “Ruling is harder than assassination. Assassination is simple. Kill the target. Done. This is endless talking and politics.”
“Welcome to the next century of your life.” Draven settled into his throne, looking equally tired but satisfied. “It gets easier. Eventually. After the first few decades.”
“Encouraging.”
“I try.” He looked at her, and his expression softened. “How are you? Really? The binding, the fight, the sudden monarchy. That’s a lot for one day.”
Raven took inventory. The binding magic was completely gone—not even an echo. Her body was sore from the fight but healing. The crown felt heavy but right.
“I’m free,” she said quietly. “For the first time in my entire existence, I’m actually free. No Guild. No binding. No contract. Just me, my choices, my future.”
“And one co-ruler who’s deeply in love with you.”
“That too.” She smiled. “That’s the best part, actually.”
They sat in comfortable silence, exhaustion settling over both of them.
“The Guild will come,” Raven said eventually. “They won’t accept that I completed the contract through technicality. They’ll send assassins to finish what they see as failure.”
“Let them come.” Draven’s shadows darkened. “They’ll be coming for the Shadow Princess now. Backed by the full power of this court, with a five-hundred-year-old fae prince as her partner. I almost pity them.”
“Almost?”
“They tortured children for decades and tried to kill you when you chose freedom. I don’t actually pity them at all.” His smile turned sharp. “When they come, we’ll be ready. Together.”
“Together.” Raven tested the word. It felt good. Foreign but good. “I’ve never had together before.”
“Then we’ll figure it out as we go. What does together look like for co-rulers of the Shadow Court?” Draven stood, moved to her throne, extended his hand. “Let’s start with dinner. I’m starving, you’re exhausted, and we should eat before collapsing.”
Raven took his hand, let him pull her up. “Dinner sounds perfect. As long as no one tries to poison it.”
“I’ll personally prepare it. No poison. Just food and us and celebrating the fact that we’re both alive.”
They left the throne room hand-in-hand, shadows trailing behind them like loyal subjects. Servants bowed as they passed. Nobles nodded respectfully. Everyone acknowledged the new order.
Shadow Princess and Shadow Prince. Partners. Equals. Co-rulers.
In Draven’s private dining hall—theirs now, she supposed—they ate simple food and drank wine that wasn’t poisoned, and talked about everything except politics.
“So,” Draven said around a bite of bread, “first official act as Shadow Princess. What do you want to do?”
“Besides destroy the Guild?”
“Obviously that’s on the list. But beyond vengeance, what do you want to build?”
Raven thought about it. About twenty-nine days of discovering who she was beyond a weapon.
“I want to reform how the Guild operates. Not destroy it entirely—the world needs assassins sometimes—but change it. No more taking children. No more binding magic. Just… make it less horrible.”
“Ambitious. I love it.” Draven refilled her wine. “What else?”
“I want to establish better relations between the Shadow Court and mortal realm. No more kidnapping. No more treating mortals like lesser beings. Actual diplomacy.”
“Also ambitious. You’re going to be busy, Princess.”
“We’re going to be busy,” she corrected. “Co-rulers. You don’t get to watch me work while relaxing.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His smile was genuine. “I’ve spent three centuries maintaining this court. Time to actually build something new. With you.”
They talked into the night, planning future projects, establishing goals, figuring out what two people who’d started as assassin and target could build together as partners.
Near midnight, Raven felt exhaustion pulling at her. “I should sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be complicated too, isn’t it?”
“Every day is complicated in the Shadow Court. You’ll adapt.” Draven stood, helped her up. “Come on. Your chambers. Or mine. Or we could combine them and solve the awkward separate bedrooms issue.”
“One day as co-rulers and you’re already suggesting we share chambers?”
“One day as co-rulers, twenty-nine days as whatever we were before, and a mutual claiming that makes us partners in fae law. I think shared chambers are acceptable.” His grin turned playful. “Unless you want to keep sneaking into each other’s rooms like we have been.”
“We haven’t been sneaking.”
“We’ve absolutely been sneaking.”
Raven laughed, and it felt wonderful. Free. Chosen. Hers.
“Fine. Shared chambers. But I get to redesign half of them. Your aesthetic is very ‘dramatically shadowy’ and I need some variation.”
“Deal.” He pulled her close, kissed her softly. “Welcome to ruling the Shadow Court, Princess Raven. I think you’re going to be extraordinary at it.”
“We’re going to be extraordinary at it,” she corrected again. “Partners.”
“Partners,” he agreed.
They walked through the shadow palace, past bowing servants and watchful guards, toward a future they’d built together through impossible odds.
Twenty-nine days ago, Raven had entered this court as an assassin with a contract.
Now she was its princess, with a crown and a co-ruler and freedom that was truly hers.
The Guild would come eventually. Threats would emerge. Challenges would appear.
But Raven Storm wasn’t alone anymore.
She had Draven. Had the Shadow Court. Had purpose beyond just killing.
And she had choices.
Finally, beautifully, hers to make.
Day thirty arrived at midnight, and Raven was still alive.
Contract complete. Binding broken. Future open.
She’d never failed a contract.
She’d just completed this one in the most unexpected way possible.
By taking the throne instead of just taking a life.
And honestly?
That felt like the better victory.
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