Chapter 33: The Calm Within the Tempest

The cabin still smelled of smoke and salt of last night's fire and this morning's fury.

The storm between them had been simmering for too long a clash of want and war, dominance and desire and now, the air was so thick it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Alistair Von Wolfenstein stood at the heart of it shirt half-buttoned, his cutlass forgotten at his feet, and his pulse still roaring from the latest fight between Seraphina Blackthorn and Isolde Greaves.

Seraphina's dagger was still spinning in her hand a lazy, dangerous rhythm while Isolde's rapier sat just within reach on the desk, a silent threat in its own right.

Neither woman moved.

Neither backed down.

And Alistair

He was done.

Not with them.

Never with them.

But with the endless war raging between the three of them a storm with no end, no escape, only ever growing hotter and more dangerous.

Because the truth was a blade against his throat:

He didn't want to choose between Seraphina's fire and Isolde's ice.

He wanted both.

Not for a night.

Not for a fight.

For always.

The Moment Before the Storm Breaks.

Seraphina's voice was a low purr too calm, too sharp. "What's wrong, Captain?" Her dark hair was still wild from the night before, her bare shoulder smeared with blood. "Finally realizing you can't have us both?"

Isolde's gaze didn't waver cold, unyielding. "He never could."

Alistair's heart thundered.

Because they were both wrong.

He could have them both.

He would.

But not like this.

Not with daggers between them literal or otherwise.

And so

He did the most reckless, impossible thing he'd ever done in his life.

Worse than chasing the Iron Tempest.

Worse than fighting Varik.

He let the storm inside him settle.

And he spoke the words that would either anchor them

Or break them completely.

The Proposal That Cut Deeper Than Any Blade.

"Marry me."

The words fell into the silence like a cannon blast.

The dagger slipped from Seraphina's fingers, clattering to the floor.

Isolde's hand hovered over her rapier frozen like she couldn't decide whether to draw the blade or simply stare.

Alistair didn't move.

Didn't blink.

"What?" Seraphina's voice wasn't soft it was a growl.

Alistair's jaw tightened. "I said marry me."

His gaze flicked between them from Seraphina's fierce, stunned eyes to Isolde's icy, unreadable expression.

"Both of you."

Another silence heavier this time.

As if the ship itself was holding its breath.

The Fire and Ice That Followed.

Seraphina was the first to move.

Not with words but with motion.

She crossed the cabin in two steps, grabbing Alistair by the shirt and yanking him close not in a kiss, not in fury but in pure, unfiltered shock.

"Is this a joke?" she hissed, her lips a breath away from his. "You think this is how you fix this?"

Alistair's voice was steady. "I'm not trying to fix anything."

Isolde's voice was quiet too quiet. "You think marrying both of us will solve this war between us?"

Alistair's gaze snapped to hers. "I think it's the only way we survive it."

Seraphina's grip on his shirt tightened not to pull him closer this time, but to keep herself from pushing him away.

Because the truth?

The brutal, impossible truth?

She didn't hate the idea.

Not entirely.

And Isolde gods, even Isolde though her face remained cold, there was a flicker of something else in her eyes.

Not rage.

Not disgust.

But fear.

Because Alistair wasn't just proposing to anchor the storm.

He was asking for everything.

Their loyalty.

Their love.

Their war bound together, forever.

The Calm After the Storm.

"Why?" Isolde's voice finally cracked not with anger, but with something deeper.

Alistair's chest heaved. "Because I love you both."

The words broke the air between them.

Simple. Raw. Unrelenting.

"I love you, Seraphina."

"I love you, Isolde."

"And I refuse to lose either of you to this war between us."

Silence.

Seraphina's breath was ragged. "You're a fool."

Alistair's voice was a whisper. "I know."

Isolde's hand slowly fell away from her rapier. "This will never work."

Alistair smiled tired, broken, hopeful. "Then let's make it fail together."

And for the first time in weeks

The storm settled.

Not gone never gone but quieter.

A dangerous calm.

The kind that comes just before the next spark.