The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a candle flickering on the nightstand. The atmosphere was still, almost sacred, as if time itself had slowed down. Arnold and Rishe lay side by side, wrapped in the comfort of the sheets, the warmth between them a silent yet profound connection. The gentle rhythm of their breathing was the only sound, a tender harmony that spoke of trust, shared moments, and the deep bond they had built.
Rishe's eyes traced the lines of Arnold's face, studying him with a quiet intensity. His features were calm, serene even, yet there was a distant air about him. His eyes, usually so sharp and focused, seemed to look beyond the present, lost in some private thought that he hadn’t yet shared. He had always been one to carry the weight of the world in silence, but tonight, it felt heavier.
Rishe couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. She had always known that Arnold had a destiny—one that was intertwined with the fate of his kingdom, his family, and even the world itself. But there was something about tonight, something in the way he seemed so distant, that made her want to reach him more than ever before.
“Arnold,” she whispered softly, her voice almost trembling as she broke the quiet. It was more than a question—it was a plea. “Can I always stay by your side? Even when the world changes... even when everything becomes uncertain?” Her heart fluttered nervously. She knew she was asking for something big, something that was more than just a promise. She was asking him for her place in the future, a place she feared might not be as secure as she hoped.
She took a deep breath before continuing, the weight of her next words pressing heavily on her chest. “I have a feeling... A feeling what’s coming, what you’re going to do. But even then, I want to be with you. I want to stand by your side.”
The silence that followed her words felt suffocating. She watched his face closely, waiting for him to react, to offer her the reassurance she desperately needed. But Arnold didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, his jaw tense, as if the very thought of her question had caught him off guard.
Rishe’s breath hitched in her chest. The uncertainty in his silence gnawed at her. Could he not promise her that? Was he too burdened by the weight of his own future to even consider her words? She tried to calm her racing heart, but her doubts crept in, piercing through the quiet like sharp needles.
She reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. The touch was soft, almost tentative, as if she were testing the waters, unsure of the depth of his feelings. She stared into his eyes, the depth of emotion in hers clear, but she knew that his gaze held something more complicated—something he wasn’t ready to share.
“If you ever think of doing something... drastic, Arnold, something that could change everything... something that might bring destruction to the world, promise me that you’ll let me be by your side. I would stand with you, no matter the consequences. No matter what happens.”
There was a long pause, a stillness that seemed to stretch out forever. Arnold’s face went from shock to unreadable, his eyes scanning her expression for a long moment. He didn’t look away, but his silence only deepened the weight of the moment. For a brief moment, Rishe’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if he would deny her request, if he would shut her out from the truth he kept so carefully hidden.
Then, slowly, his expression softened. His features shifted, just a little, as if the weight of her words had finally broken through the walls he had built. He leaned forward then, closing the distance between them with a tenderness that almost took Rishe by surprise. His lips brushed against hers in a soft, lingering kiss—gentle, but full of meaning.
“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur against her lips. “Rishe... I want you by my side. Always. Whatever happens. I... I can’t imagine doing things without you anymore.”
His words, though quiet, resonated deep within her. She felt the sincerity in them, the warmth that spread through her chest as she finally exhaled, releasing the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. In that moment, the future didn’t feel so heavy. The uncertainty that had been clouding her mind seemed to dissipate, replaced with a sense of peace—of understanding.
The future was still uncertain. She knew that. But in Arnold’s arms, with the soft glow of candlelight illuminating his features, the world outside no longer mattered. She had his promise—his quiet, unwavering promise. And that was all she needed, for now.
“I’ll always be here,” she whispered back, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw as she gazed into his eyes. “No matter what comes... I’ll always stand with you.”
The words hung between them, a bond stronger than any spoken vow. They didn’t need to say more. For the first time in a long while, Rishe allowed herself to believe that everything would be okay—because she wasn’t alone. She had Arnold. And he had her.
The soft glow of candlelight danced along the walls of Rishe’s room, the warmth of the flickering light casting a golden haze over the quiet space. Outside, the garden was quiet after the evening’s celebration, and inside the palace, the night hummed with stillness.
On her bed, Rishe lay on her side, facing Arnold. The thin, silken sheets twisted between them like a thread keeping them close but untangled. They were still dressed from the party—her gown slightly loosened, his jacket discarded on the chair nearby. Their shoes were long forgotten at the foot of the bed.
Between them, there was no need for words, not yet. Just glances, soft smiles, a few tired chuckles as they recounted the night.
“He really tried to convince you he was a duke?” Arnold asked, amused, brow raised.
Rishe rolled her eyes and laughed softly. “With a feathered hat and wine-stained gloves. Very convincing.”
Arnold smirked. “You attract all kinds.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The laughter died down, and quiet settled again—this time thicker, more intimate. Their gazes lingered a bit longer, breathing syncing slowly in the space between them. The mood shifted, unspoken but undeniable.
Rishe’s smile faded into something softer. Her eyes searched his, a quiet vulnerability surfacing.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” she murmured.
Arnold didn’t blink. “Tell me.”
She hesitated, then let out a slow breath. “My ex-fiancé… Diedrich.”
His jaw shifted slightly, but he said nothing.
“I never loved him. I didn’t even mind when he ended the engagement. It felt like... freedom. But it was how he did it that stayed with me. Humiliation in front of the entire court, like he needed to make a spectacle of it. I wasn’t ashamed to be cast aside—I was ashamed I hadn’t seen it coming.”
She paused. “I thought that was it. That I’d just live quietly on my own after that. And then—”
A ghost of a smile curved her lips.
“Then you showed up. Without a ring. No grand speech. Just that look in your eyes and the ridiculous confidence to kneel before me and ask if I’d marry you.”
Arnold’s mouth tugged up into a crooked smile. “You said no.”
She chuckled. “Yes. But even then, I already knew you weren’t going to take that answer.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, gently brushing his fingers against her cheek.
She leaned in, their noses almost brushing now. “And now, I finally understand what this feeling is I've been struggling with the past months with you.”
Her breath trembled as it left her. “I’m in love with you, Arnold.”
He didn’t speak. He just looked at her—as if seeing every version of her, every wall she’d ever built and every crack where the light now slipped through. Then slowly, he closed the space between them.
The kiss deepened naturally, as though neither of them had planned for it but both had been waiting for it far longer than they’d admit. Arnold’s hand slid from her cheek to the curve of her waist, pulling her closer until there was no more space left between them. Rishe shifted, her thigh slipping between his legs as his hand traced the line of her back.
There was a softness in every movement—his fingers in her hair, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth as they briefly broke apart for air. She smiled at the closeness, the safety, the heat.
His lips returned to hers, slower this time, like he wanted to memorize the shape of her mouth. Rishe sighed against him, her hand gripping the back of his neck, her body molding into his with complete trust.
They rolled gently, the sheets wrapping around them as Arnold hovered above her, his forehead resting on hers. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint.
Rishe answered not with words, but with the way her hands slid down his back, pulling him closer, grounding him. “Yes,” she breathed.
Every touch was careful, reverent—like he couldn’t believe she was real. Her gown loosened further beneath his fingertips, and she arched into him with a quiet gasp, her mouth brushing against his shoulder.
They moved together slowly, as if time had slowed just for them. No grand declarations, just sighs and soft moans, the kind that spoke of months of tension, of trust, of two hearts finally aligned.
When it was over, they didn’t move apart.
Arnold remained close, his nose brushing her temple, one arm beneath her head, the other holding her waist. Rishe, her cheek pressed to his chest, could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat—slow, steady, grounding.
She lifted her head just enough to look at him. His eyes were already on her.
Then, his voice, low and warm near her ear: “I already told you I’ve fallen for you."
Her lips curled into a sleepy smile as she let her head fall back to his chest. “I know,” she whispered.
He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Still true.”
Rishe nestled closer, their legs tangled, the weight of him both grounding and comforting. The heat of their bodies lingered under the sheets. Their fingers entwined lazily at her waist, no need for more words.
The night wrapped around them like a secret. And neither of them was in any hurry to let go.
(Small spoiler of character and storyline light novel 6!)
The soft clink of glass and bubbling liquid filled the kitchen with a soft gentle rhythm, the only accompaniment to the crackle of the small fire under the cauldron. Rishe moved with precision, her coral-pink hair tied loosely behind her back, a few strands falling over her cheek as she leaned forward to adjust the flame. Her hands moved quickly but deliberately—grinding, measuring, stirring. Her emerald eyes flickered with focus, reflecting the light of the soft glow coming from the antidote she was brewing.
In the corner, Joel was in his usual state—fast asleep in a chair, slumped forward with his cheek pressed to folded arms. His soft snores punctuated the silence.
Raul stood a few feet away, arms crossed, the gleam of his armor dulled by the warm lamplight. His red eyes were trained not on Joel, the person he was assigned to guard, but on Rishe. He watched her in silence—the way she bit her lip while concentrating, the way her brow furrowed when she hesitated between ingredients. There was something calming about the way she moved, like she belonged in any room she walked into.
When she finally straightened, she let out a small sigh. “There,” she whispered to herself, pouring the shimmering antidote into a small glass vial. “That should be it.”
Raul shifted, stepping forward. “You’re done?”
“I think so,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Only one way to be sure.”
And before he could ask what she meant, she raised the vial to her lips, took a small sip, and placed it down. Then, without hesitation, she plucked a smaller bottle from the bench—a vial of the pirate’s sleeping serum—and with a dropper, let a single drop land on her tongue.
Raul’s heart skipped. “Miss Rishe—what are you doing?!”
She turned to him with a calm smile and a little laugh. “Testing it. I can’t lead a rescue mission without knowing if this works.”
At least that is what Michel Hévin her alchemist mentor from her second life would've told her.
He stared at her in disbelief, his jaw tense. “That is unbelievably reckless.”
“I had to be sure,” she said, and then blinked—once, twice. “Hmm… maybe I should’ve added a touch of nirnroot. I feel a little—”
She swayed.
Raul was at her side in two strides, catching her just as her legs buckled. Her fingers clutched the front of his tunic, nails curling against the fabric.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “It’ll pass... only one drop…”
“You’re not fine.” His voice was low, protective, his arms firm around her waist. "You should have told me beforehand.”
Rishe’s breath slowed, her cheek resting against his chest. “I knew you’d catch me,” she murmured.
Raul’s breath hitched. He held her tighter as she began to slump further, her body heavy against his. Slowly, instinctively, he eased her from the ground so she wouldn’t fall. His arms were strong and steady, wrapping around her like a shield.
Her cheek pressed into the side of his neck now, warm lips barely grazing his skin as she exhaled softly. Raul closed his eyes, pulse pounding. Her scent was floral and peachy, laced with the faint trace of alchemy herbs. She fit into his arms too perfectly.
He whispered, “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She didn’t respond. They stood like that for a few minutes.
Then… she shifted. Still half-asleep, Rishe’s arms rose around his neck and pulled him closer, her breath warm against his skin, her body melting into his. Raul stiffened, wide-eyed. This wasn’t just support—it felt like she was holding someone she loved.
His voice caught. “Uh… Princess…”
She didn’t react at first, only made a small sound—peaceful, soft. Her fingers brushed against the back of his neck.
Raul was frozen, caught between longing and restraint. His heart thundered in his chest.
Then Rishe blinked slowly, her lashes fluttering as she stirred. Her eyes met his—and instantly widened.
“I—I thought you were—” she pulled back manging to stand by herself, cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I’m not… fully awake yet.”
He shook his head, his voice gentle. “It’s alright. You thought I was him.”
There was a silence, warm and heavy.
Rishe steadied herself, smoothing her skirt. “Still… thank you. You were a complete gentleman.”
Raul looked at her for a moment, then said softly, “You always get like that around him. Your expression changes. You let your guard down.”
Before she could answer, he quickly added, “Not that it’s a bad thing. It’s just… obvious.” He cleared his throat, brushing a hand through his hair in an attempt to seem casual. “Anyway, it’s not like you let everyone that close. Joel certainly found that out yesterday.”
Rishe tilted her head, confused. “What do you mean?”
Raul chuckled. “During the spar. He came at you like some cocky hero and you dropped him in two moves. That martial arts kick you landed on his sword hand? I don’t think he’s recovered emotionally yet.”
Rishe laughed, a light sparkle returning to her eyes. “He said he wanted to see how I’d handle a ‘real threat.’ I gave him one.”
“You did,” Raul said, smiling. “I had to pretend not to be impressed. Still am.”
She caught the look in his eyes—something he tried to mask with humor, but couldn’t quite bury.
Just then, a groggy voice interrupted them from the corner.
“Ughh… did I just hear the words sword fighting?” Joel blinked, rubbing his face.
Rishe and Raul both looked his way, their shared smile fading into an amused silence.
“You heard correctly,” Rishe said sweetly. “but don't forget you lost.”
Joel groaned and let his head fall back down onto the table.
Raul just chuckled, arms crossed again, eyes lingering for one moment longer on Rishe before he looked away.
The sun filtered through the tall windows, casting golden patterns on the stone floor. The castle had fallen into a lull—caught between the duties of the day and the festivities that would follow.
Rishe walked alone, holding a folder of notes against her chest, her thoughts occupied by preparations for the evening’s ball. Her mind was sharp, focused—until she rounded the corner and found him waiting.
Raul.
Disguised in a knight’s uniform, helm tucked under one arm, he leaned casually against a marble pillar like he belonged to the shadows. Only his red eyes gave him away—sharp and familiar.
"Lady Rishe," he greeted, his tone smooth with just the edge of something warmer.
She paused but didn’t look surprised. "Sir knight. Or should I say, your highness?" she teased.
He smirked faintly. "I'm not prince Curtis anymore."
She smiled—tightly. “What brings you here?”
He pushed off the stone pillar with a lazy smirk, sauntering over. “You’re difficult to catch alone these days.”
“And yet, here we are.” She said.
Walking beside her, he said softly “I wanted to see how you're doing.”
"I’m well," she replied simply.
They walked in silence for a few steps before Raul turned to her his voice low, almost thoughtful, “You truly do shine in these halls. I said it before, didn’t I? Prince Arnold is… incredibly lucky.”
Rishe’s pace didn’t falter, but her eyes flicked to him. Her expression was unreadable, carefully neutral. “You’ve said that before, yes.”
“I keep finding new reasons to mean it.”
She raised an eyebrow, her voice dry. “Jealous, Raul?”
There was a glint in her eyes, teasing—but his response was quiet, serious.
“Yes.”
That silenced her for a beat.
Raul stopped walking. She did too, slowly turning to face him. He watched her with something intense in his eyes—not longing, not desperation. Just quiet, honest weight.
“The offer I made you,” he said, “when I was still Prince Curtis... it still stands.”
She didn’t answer right away.
He stepped in just enough that she could feel the warmth of him. His hand lifted, slowly, carefully—fingers reaching toward a strand of her hair, but—
“Don’t,” she said softly.
He stopped, his fingers hovering just inches from her face.
“I can’t offer you luxury,” he said quietly. “Not palaces or power. But I would give you everything I have. If you said the word, Rishe—if you wanted to leave—I would take you with me. Tonight. No questions.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, not because of temptation, but because of the way he said it. Like a vow, gentle and fierce.
But she shook her head.
“I love Prince Arnold,” she said. “I don’t want to leave. I’m looking forward to becoming his wife.”
Raul closed his eyes for a moment, as if those words cost him breath. When he opened them again, there was a softness behind his stoicism.
“I know,” he said.
“And you deserve someone who chooses you freely,” she added, her voice quieter. “Not someone already taken.”
He gave a short laugh, more exhale than humor. “Maybe. But knowing you exist has ruined me for everyone else.”
Rishe didn’t know what to say to that.
So she didn’t.
After a long pause, Raul exhaled, a humorless chuckle escaping him. “That’s the thing about shadows, princess. They follow you even when you don’t want them to.”
She touched his sleeve briefly, not affectionately, but kindly. “Then step out of them.” And turned away to continue down the corridor. His gaze lingered on her, remembering—how she flushed at Arnold’s compliments, the way her eyes sparkled in his presence, how she’d laugh just from the way Arnold looked at her.
He stayed there long after she left, armor still and silent, carrying words he couldn’t unsay.
