The next morning marked a new beginning for Maria.
Her official training as Duchess began under Elisha's careful guidance. From the early hours, Maria found herself seated across a table stacked with scrolls and books, her eyes wide with curiosity and determination. Elisha, patient and wise, taught her everything about the politics of the North, the geographical hardships the region faced, the complex network of noble families that resided there, and its often delicate relationships with neighboring territories.
At first, it was overwhelming. The names of the noble houses tangled in her mind like an intricate web, and the cold, harsh reality of Northern terrain was a stark contrast to her warmer homeland. But Maria was not one to back down from a challenge.
Day by day, she absorbed everything—learning not just with her mind, but with her heart. Elisha watched in quiet admiration as Maria transformed, her eyes sharper, her posture more confident.
Weeks passed, and Elisha finally handed her the estate ledgers and keys.
"It is the Duchess's duty to manage the estate," she said with a proud smile. "And you are our Duchess."
At first, some of the estate's staff and even a few nobles expressed their dissatisfaction—how could a central woman, so young and unfamiliar with Northern ways, take charge of their land?
But Maria never let their skepticism discourage her.
She worked tirelessly—reviewing estate records, inspecting storage facilities, meeting with local workers, and walking through snow-covered fields despite the biting cold. Her commitment, kindness, and strength slowly won them over.
Bit by bit, the North began to accept her. And for the first time in many years, the region was at peace.
Yet peace did not mean ease.
The North's climate was merciless. Snow blanketed the land for most of the year, and even during the so-called "warm months," the sun barely kissed the frozen soil. Crops barely grew, and grain production remained dismal.
Maria refused to accept it as fate.
She buried herself in books, spending long nights in the library searching for ways to grow crops in harsh climates. She studied everything from ancient techniques to foreign farming practices—but nothing seemed suitable.
Alex had been watching her quietly all along.
Late one night, as he returned to his study, he paused at the sight of Maria slumped over a book, a candle flickering beside her, her fingers smudged with ink, and her expression strained with frustration and fatigue.
Without a word, he walked into his office, opened a locked drawer, and pulled out a leather-bound book—his mother's diary.
That night, as Maria slept, Alex placed the diary beside her and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
When Maria awoke, the book was the first thing she saw. She opened it curiously and began to read—and soon her eyes lit up with hope. Inside were detailed notes and diagrams of agricultural experiments his mother had tried in the past, specifically designed for Northern soil and climate. Methods Maria had never even heard of.
In that moment, she knew what she had to do.
She immediately gathered the maids and instructed them to summon the carpenters. At first, the maids assumed she was renovating her chambers. But when the carpenters arrived, Maria led them straight to the estate's barren fields.
There, under the open grey sky, she knelt and drew a detailed structure into the snow—something resembling a hut. But instead of thick wooden or stone walls, she explained that the structure's walls would be made of a special type of paper.
The carpenters exchanged confused glances, but Maria's confidence was unwavering.
Within a week, under her guidance, the first greenhouse was constructed.
She called upon several farmers and asked them to plant crops inside the structure. To heat the greenhouse, Maria ingeniously repurposed waste. She had a large furnace built nearby, where all the estate's garbage was burned. Above it, a massive vessel filled with ice sat.
As the fire roared, the ice melted, then began to boil, releasing steam that flowed through pipes into the greenhouse. The air inside warmed steadily.
When Maria and the farmers stepped into the greenhouse for the first time, they were stunned.
The temperature was unlike the freezing world outside—it was warm, almost spring-like. A perfect environment for growth.
Encouraged, the farmers began planting with renewed hope. Days passed, and green shoots began to sprout—life emerging from where only snow had once ruled.
But just when it seemed like victory was at hand, another problem surfaced.
The walls of the greenhouse—made of paper—could not withstand the constant heat and moisture. They began to decay.
Maria's heart sank.
She gathered everyone and asked for patience. "Give me some time," she said softly. "I will find a solution."
That night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing. She barely noticed Alex entering the room.
He watched her for a moment before sitting beside her.
"Madam… Madam… Maria," he said gently.
She blinked and turned to him, surprised.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
She sighed and told him everything—the decaying walls, the failure looming ahead.
Alex listened patiently, then gave her a small smile. "Why don't you speak with Elisha? She might know something."
The next morning, Maria rushed to Elisha's study and explained the situation.
Elisha frowned in thought, then suddenly stood and rifled through one of her drawers. From the bottom, she pulled out a strange material—thin like paper, but smoother and sturdier.
"This…" Elisha said, holding it up, "is something we received from a southern trader. It looks like paper but is water-resistant. You can soak it for days, and it remains intact."
Maria's eyes widened with hope.
"Let's use this," Elisha said with a nod.
Maria flung her arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Thank you," she whispered, eyes shining with emotion.
That evening, they summoned merchants and ordered the material in bulk.
Within two days, shipments arrived at the mansion, and with Alex and Elisha's help, Maria led the construction of more greenhouses—this time, with stronger walls.
The new greenhouses flourished.
The crops grew healthier, faster, and stronger. Farmers from across the North came to see them, and soon, more than half of the Northern fields had greenhouses of their own.
Seeing the success, Alex made a grand decision—he would expand this model across the entire North.
Standing before the people, he praised Maria for her relentless spirit, her innovation, and her love for the land. He thanked Elisha for standing beside her and supporting her vision.
And as the snow fell gently outside the glass walls of the greenhouse, inside was a world blooming with life—a testament to Maria's courage, and the dawn of a new era for the North.
As weeks passed, the greenhouses continued to thrive. Inside those warm glass structures, green leaves unfurled toward the artificial sunlight, roots stretched deep into the soil, and delicate buds bloomed into golden wheat, fresh vegetables, and vibrant fruits—something the North hadn't seen in abundance for years.
By the time the Harvest Festival approached, the fields of the North, once buried in snow and silence, had become a land of life and color.
For the first time in generations, the Northern storerooms were full.
Grain overflowed in the granaries. Vegetables are lined baskets in markets. The scent of freshly baked bread returned to the air. Tables were no longer sparse, and no family went to bed hungry. The people had enough—not just to survive, but to truly live.
When word of the successful harvest spread, joy bloomed across every village and corner of the North.
The farmers who once doubted Maria now spoke her name with pride. Local women began sewing new clothes for the festival, children ran through the streets with ribbons, and men polished their instruments for the celebration.
The day of the Harvest Festival arrived like a long-awaited dream.
The skies were still grey, as always, but beneath them, the towns and villages glowed with color. Banners fluttered in the wind, stalls were decorated with flowers and vines, and fires crackled in every square where people gathered to sing, dance, and feast.
In the center of it all stood Maria.
She wore a deep green gown embroidered with silver vines—a nod to the new life she had brought to the North. A crown of dried flowers and wheat sat atop her hair, gifted by the farmers themselves.
When she stepped onto the stage in the village square, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Maria looked over the sea of smiling faces—young and old, noble and commoner—and felt her eyes sting with tears.
"These crops… this joy… this celebration," she said, her voice steady but warm, "they belong to all of you. Your hard work, your faith, and your patience made this possible. I merely lit the fire… but you kept it burning."
The people applauded, many wiping tears from their eyes.
Alex stood a few steps behind her, arms folded and pride shining in his eyes. Beside him, Elisha smiled softly, her gaze full of quiet admiration for the Duchess who had once stumbled through political lessons, and now stood like the true pillar of the North.
That evening, as music filled the air and people danced in circles, sharing laughter and stories, Maria wandered through the streets, stopping to talk to farmers and listen to their tales. Many of them pressed her hands into theirs, their voices thick with emotion.
"We were losing hope, Your Grace," one elderly farmer said, eyes moist. "But you… You gave us back the sun."
Maria could hardly respond. She simply nodded and embraced him gently.
Later that night, as fireworks lit up the snowy sky in bursts of gold and silver, Alex found Maria standing at the edge of the square, quietly watching the celebration she had helped make possible.
He stepped beside her and, without a word, slipped his fingers into hers.
She turned to look at him.
"They're smiling," she whispered, a little breathless. "The people… they're truly smiling."
"They're smiling because of you," Alex replied, gently squeezing her hand. "You gave them something no one else could—hope in the dead of winter."
Maria looked back toward the square. Music swelled, and laughter echoed in the wind.
For the first time, the North wasn't just surviving—it was thriving.
And at the heart of it stood the Duchess, no longer an outsider, but a beacon of warmth in a land of snow.
In the far corner of the square, away from the glowing fires and the sound of laughter, Maria and Alex stood together beneath the silver light of the moon. The celebration unfolded behind them, but in that quiet space, it felt as though the world had paused—just for the two of them.
Maria's hair fluttered gently in the wind, moonlight casting a soft glow over her face. Her eyes sparkled—not just with joy, but with a quiet wonder. Alex couldn't take his eyes off her.
She turned toward him, and in that moment, their gazes met.
Time slowed.
Neither of them spoke, but everything was said in the silence that stretched between them.
They just looked into each other's eyes, as if trying to memorize every detail, every emotion, every unspoken word. The weight of what they had been through together, the trust they had built, the respect, the unspoken longing—it all collided in that single glance.
And then, gently, without hesitation, Alex leaned in.
Their lips met in a kiss—soft at first, as if testing the boundary between reality and dream. But the moment they touched, something deeper awakened. A fire. A connection long held back.
Alex pulled Maria close, wrapping his arms around her as if he never wanted to let go. His embrace was strong, full of emotion—possessive, protective, desperate, and tender all at once.
Maria didn't resist.
She melted into him, her hands rising to rest on his chest, then sliding around his neck. Her heart raced, but she felt no fear—only a longing she had kept buried for too long. This was where she belonged. In his arms. In his warmth. In this moment.
The world disappeared.
There was no cold, no snow, no titles, no burdens.
Just them.
And that night, beneath the moonlight, they allowed themselves to feel—everything they had hidden, everything they had wanted.
Alex couldn't hold back anymore. His restraint, his distance—it shattered the moment he kissed her. He wanted her. All of her. Every breath, every heartbeat. And Maria—seeing the storm in his eyes, feeling the depth of his touch—she didn't hold back either. She took a step forward, closing any space between them, and gave herself to the moment completely.
They forgot the world. Forgot duty. Forgot the expectations placed upon them.
All that remained was the love they could no longer deny.
That night, in the quiet embrace of winter and moonlight, two hearts finally became one.
The morning sun crept slowly over the horizon, casting a golden hue across the frost-covered windowpanes of the duchess's chamber. A soft light filtered through the curtains, wrapping the room in a warm, quiet glow that contrasted with the snowy world outside.
Inside, everything was still.
Maria lay curled beneath the thick velvet blanket, her bare shoulder peeking out from beneath its folds, her chest rising and falling with each soft breath. The events of the night before still lingered on her skin like whispers—warm, tender, unforgettable.
She stirred slightly, her lashes fluttering open. For a moment, she simply stared at the ceiling, trying to anchor herself between dream and reality.
But then she felt it—an arm draped around her waist, firm and protective. A familiar warmth beside her. And she turned slowly to face him.
Alex.
He was still asleep, his face softened in rest, shadows of the man who ruled the North melted away in peace. His hand remained on her, as if even in sleep he was afraid to let her go.
Maria watched him for a while, her heart filled with something she couldn't quite describe. It was more than love—it was comfort, safety, something that had bloomed through trust and shared burdens.
She reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
As if sensing her gaze, Alex stirred. His eyes opened, hazy and half-lidded at first, but the moment they met hers, he smiled—a slow, real, vulnerable smile that was reserved for her and her alone.
"Good morning," he said, voice rough and low from sleep.
Maria smiled back, her cheeks slightly pink. "Good morning."
He pulled her closer without another word, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I don't want to move from this moment," he whispered.
Maria let out a soft laugh. "Then don't."
They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other, wrapped in warmth, in silence, in something unspoken that neither of them wanted to disturb.
Finally, Maria spoke softly. "Do you think everything will change now?"
Alex leaned back slightly, brushing his fingers along her cheek. "Some things might. But this..." He paused. "What we have... I don't want it to be just one night."
Maria's breath caught. She searched his eyes, and all she saw there was sincerity.
"I don't either," she whispered.
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Then stay. Not just here, not just in this room... but beside me. Always."
Maria nodded, eyes glistening—not with sadness, but something deeper. Hope. Love. Belonging.
And just like that, in the soft light of morning, the two hearts that found each other in the cold night knew they were no longer alone. The bond they had built through trust, challenge, and quiet longing had finally taken root.
Outside, the snow still fell gently.
But inside, spring had already begun.
It began quietly at first—rumors whispered from village to village, from castle hall to market stall.
"She's not like the others," people would say.
"She walks the fields with her own feet."
"She listens."
Maria had become more than a name. More than a title. She was becoming hope.
Where the air had once carried only the bite of frost, it now carried her influence: fields blooming in defiance of winter, marketplaces filled with new trade, schools for children rising slowly in small towns. She gathered herbalists to teach local remedies. She supported craftspeople, helping them sell beyond the North. Her presence wasn't just in the mansion, but in every stone and street touched by change.
And the people began to call her something new.
The Lady of Spring.
A poetic name, they said—because wherever Maria walked, life seemed to follow.
In the capital, nobles began to murmur.
"How has the North stabilized so quickly?"
"She turned a crumbling region into a thriving estate in one season."
"She's dangerous," one lord snapped during a council meeting. "A mere common-born girl cannot—"
"—She's a Duchess," another corrected. "And she's doing better than most of us."
Back in the North, inside the Duke's mansion, Maria sat alone in Alex's office one snowy evening. Papers were spread across the desk, maps rolled open, her brows furrowed in focus. She didn't hear the door open behind her.
"You've conquered half the North already," Alex's voice came from the doorway, deep and amused. "Planning to take the other half?"
Maria looked up, startled, then grinned. "Only if the Duke allows it."
Alex stepped inside, closing the door quietly. He walked around the desk and stood behind her, his hand gently sliding onto her shoulder. "You've already done more than I ever thought possible."
"You gave me the chance," she said, placing her hand over his.
"I only opened the gate," he whispered. "You made the garden grow."
Their eyes met.
And like before—when moonlight had made them forget the world—they were lost again.
He leaned down, and their lips met, soft at first. Then deeper.
Maria stood, turning to face him, her fingers gently curling around his collar, pulling him closer. Alex cupped her face with both hands as if she were something too precious to break.
But the kiss grew hungry.
Urgent.
He backed her gently toward the wall of books, his lips trailing from her mouth to her neck. "Tell me to stop," he whispered against her skin.
Maria's hands gripped his coat. "I won't," she breathed.
She unbuttoned his shirt slowly, as he tangled his fingers in her hair. The cold of the North couldn't reach them here. Not in this fire they built between their hearts and skin.
Alex lifted her into his arms and carried her to the lounge in the corner of the office, laying her down as if she were made of starlight. That night, love wasn't soft and gentle. It was fierce. A storm breaking open. The kind of love that left you breathless, trembling, and alive.
The Morning After
Maria awoke wrapped in his arms, the first golden light of day spilling through the tall window. Her head rested against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath. Alex stirred and pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair.
"Good morning, my Duchess," he murmured.
She smiled sleepily. "It's your office. Isn't that scandalous?"
He chuckled. "Then let them talk."
That day, as Maria stood atop the grand steps of the estate for a gathering of local officials and northern envoys, the wind whipped around her coat, but her presence was still warm—commanding.
She gave a speech—brief but powerful—about progress, unity, and the strength of rebuilding a region together. When she finished, the crowd erupted into applause.
Alex stood in the background, arms crossed, eyes locked only on her. There was pride in his expression, but something more. Devotion. Love.
Elisha approached him and quietly said, "She's not just a Duchess now. She's becoming a legend."
Alex gave a slow smile, gaze never leaving Maria. "She always was."
The North was changing.
Where once the wind howled through empty fields and forgotten villages, now it carried the sounds of hammers, of laughter, of life. Markets bustled, children learned in small schools Maria had helped open, and trade began flowing through roads long buried in snow. Word of the North's transformation spread like wildfire across the kingdom—especially to the capital.
And in the grand halls of the central noble court, unease settled like dust.
The nobles had long viewed the North as a wild, ungovernable land. It was distant, harsh, cold—easy to ignore, easy to manipulate. But now, under the leadership of Duke Alex and the unexpected brilliance of Duchess Maria, that forgotten land was not just standing—it was rising.
The very idea rattled the bones of power.
Inside a richly decorated drawing room, deep within the estate of Marquise Morgan, silence hung heavy.
The Marquise stood by the window, holding a crisp, half-written letter in his hand. His face was hard, the ink on the page still fresh. He turned slightly as a servant entered.
"Send this," he said sharply, sealing the letter with a heavy stamp marked with the Morgan crest. "At once."
The servant bowed and left.
The letter was addressed to Lady Celestia Morgan, his only daughter, a noblewoman with cunning as sharp as her beauty—and one of the most influential unmarried ladies in court.
The Letter
"My dearest Celestia,
The Northern frost has begun to bloom, and that, my daughter, is a danger far greater than the court realizes. The Duke was a cold-blooded beast we could manage. But this woman—Maria—is a storm we did not anticipate.
She has taken root not just in his estate, but in his heart. And that, my dear, is the weakness we must exploit.
The North cannot be allowed to grow. If it does, we lose control. It is time for you to act. Pack your finest silks and your sharpest smile. You are going to the North under the name of goodwill—an envoy of alliance, culture, and diplomacy.
But remember, Celestia… roses were meant to bloom in the center of the kingdom, not in the snow."
—Your Father,
Marquise Adel Morgan
Meanwhile, in the North
Maria stood near the new watermill, her eyes following the flow of the stream they had redirected. She was dressed in a warm fur cloak, her breath fogging in the crisp morning air. Beside her, Alex held her hand, fingers laced tightly.
"I still can't believe all this is real," she whispered.
Alex turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "You made it real."
They smiled at each other, the cold forgotten.
Their bond had grown stronger with each day. In meetings, Alex often found himself leaning on her wisdom. At night, in quiet moments, their kisses were softer—filled not just with desire, but with something deeper. Trust. Love.
But neither of them knew that while they were building a future, the capital had already begun planning to destroy it.