A sleepless Earis wanders the palace gardens at night and finds Zaros reading alone beneath the moonlight…what could possibly go wrong?
It had abandoned her hours ago, leaving only silence and the soft, suffocating stillness of the palace at night.
The Earis walked the corridors alone, her steps soundless against polished stone. No attendants. No guard. No staff. Just the weight of her title trailing behind her like a shadow she could never quite outrun.
She told herself she was only walking.
Not searching, not thinking, and certainly not restless.
The gardens were quieter than the halls.
Moonlight spilled over white stone and sleeping roses, slivering the world into something almost gentle. Almost familiar.
She slowed near the archway.
Zaros sat beneath the low branches of an old flowering tree, one leg stretched out, the other bent loosely. A book rested in his hand, pages pale under the moonlight, his posture unguarded in a way she had seen in years, just like the old days, she thought to herself.
For a moment, she did nothing.
Just stood there, half-hidden by shadow, watching.
He looked.. the same, and not in the same time.
Maybe older. Sharper somehow, like time had refined him something more deliberate. His long blond hair spilled loosely over his shoulders, catching the low lantern light, and those familiar green eyes were lowers to the book in his hands, calm and unreadable.
Still ridiculously handsome... maybe even more .
The kind of handsome that felt intentional- like he had negotiated with the gods and won. She had always hates that about him, other than being the only one to actually understand her. The way he occupied space without trying. The way people leaned towards him without realizing it. The way he wore effortlessness like a second skin.
and worst of all....he knew it.
She would never admit she noticed. Not then. Not now. Not ever.
But the quiet around him that was what truly unsettled her.
It was familiar in a way that hurt. Like finding a fragment of a life she had locked away, untouched by time, waiting exactly where she left it.
Gravel shifted beneath her shoe, the sound sharp in the still garden. Her long dark hair slipped over her shoulder as she moved, and she immediately resented the sudden awareness of herself of the way she stood, the way the night air brushed her sin.
Zaros didn't startle, didn't even look surprised.
"I was wondering how long you'd stand there," he said lightly. Then, after a beat his gaze finally lifted-slow, deliberate, unmistakably amused.
His eyes moved over her once, unhurried. Knowing.
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"Careful, My Earis" he added softly. "If you stare any longer, I might start thinking you missed me."
She let out a quiet scoff. "Don't flatter yourself."
The respond was immediate, instinctive. She didn't even need to think about it. if anything, she lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze with open defiance.
Not wounded. Not surprised. Just amused.
He closed he book with an easy motion, rested it against his knee as he leaned back against the tree trunk. A dark blanket was spread beneath him, half-rumpled in the grass, as if he'd been there for a while.
"So," he said lightly, studying her in the infuriatingly calm way, "what is the Earis doing wandering the gardens at this hour?"
His gaze flickered briefly toward the darkened castle windows before retuning to her. "Shouldn't you be summoning a servant to go fix something up for you? A warm drink, perhaps. A royal command ordering sleep to obey you."
"I was walking," she said flatly. Then more sharply, "I can walk through my own castle if I please,"
"Of course," he murmured, far too agreeable. "I'm only surprised you're doing it alone. No attendants. No watchful eyes." he said in an animated tone.
For the edge.
For the quiet reprimand that usually followed-something dry about privilege, about other people who didn’t have the importance being watched, of being served. He had always liked reminding her of that.
No lecture. No bite hidden beneath the calm.
The silence lingered a moment too long.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His expression shifted-not softer, but quiteter.
"...Can't sleep?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then, with clear reluctance, she muttered, "I simply wasn't able to."
Which somehow made it worse.
She exhaled slowly, folding her arms as if that might steady something that unsettled in her chest.
"...What about you?" she asked at last, quieter now. "what are you doing awake at this hour?"
Zaros tilted his head slightly, as though he'd been expecting the question.
"I wasn't that tired," he said simply, glancing down at the book resting loosely in his hand. "And this was too good to abandon halfway through. I thought I'd finish it before sleep decide to fine me."
His thumb brushed absently along the page's edge.
Then his gaze lifted back to her.
A slow, knowing look that made her immediately regret asking anything at all.
"You know," he added in lightly, "it's a little strange."
Her eyes narrowed. "What is?"
"You", he said, far too calmly. "Standing there like that."
Her posture stiffened. "Like what?"
He watched her for a moment- quiet in that way that always felt too observant.
“You’re doing that thing again,” he said. “Standing close enough to stay… but far enough to pretend you’re not.”
Heat flared instantly, sharp and unwelcome.
He laughed then quiet, real, softer than she remembered.
And that somehow unsettled her more than the teasing ever had.
The sound faded, but the warmth lingered.
e shifted slightly where he sat beneath the tree, brushing a loose strand of blond hair from his face. The blanket beneath him rustled softly as he leaned back on one arm, looking far too at ease for someone trespassing in royal gardens.
“Well,” he said, almost casual, gesturing faintly beside him, “you can keep standing there if you like.”
Then, with a glint of something unmistakably familiar..
His smile tilted, just a little sharper.
“Don’t worry,” he added lightly. “I won’t bite.”
“…Unless you want me to.”
Heat surged straight to her face, sharp and immediate. She turned at once, already stepping back, dignity snapping into place like armor.
“I knew this was a mistake.”
She pivoted, clearly intent on leaving.
Zaros burst out laughing.
Not the quiet amusement from before. Real laughter, sudden, bright, completely unrestrained.
It stopped her in her tracks.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said between breaths, still laughing. He dragged a hand through his hair, trying and failing to compose himself. “I was just teasing.”
She turned slowly, glare sharp enough to cut glass.
His grin only widened but something quieter slipped beneath it.
“My Earis,” he said, a touch softer now, the mischief thinning at the edges, “you just got here.”
“You’re welcome to stay,” he added, almost casually.
“If you don’t mind sitting here… just to pass the time.”
Then her chin lifted, composure sliding back into place.
“Fine but I’m only sitting here because this spot has the best shade in the garden,” she said coolly. “That’s is all.”
As if the excuse needed proof, she stepped forward and sat at the far edge of the blanket, leaving a careful stretch of space between them.
Not close.
Not quite distant.
Zaros didn’t say anything, just gave her a silent smirk.
The quiet stretched gently between them, filled with the hush of sleeping gardens and the faint rustle of leaves overhead. She fixed her gaze ahead, stubbornly refusing to look at him.
And yet she was aware of him.
The way one is aware of warmth without turning toward it.
Then he cleared his throat, almost under his breath.
“What was keeping you awake?” he asked softly. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
The question caught her off guard.
There was no teasing in it. No clever bite. Just something quieter something that didn’t match the version of him she’d prepared herself for.
Her fingers tightened slightly in her sleeve.
That wasn’t what she expected.
She cleared her throat quietly, eyes still fixed ahead.
“Just… things on my mind,” she said after a moment. “Too many to explain.”
It was easier that way. Safer.
She wasn’t about to tell him about the nights she still woke with her heart racing, the shadows that clung too long after sleep. Some things were better kept locked away.
“Still having nightmares?”
She turned to him sharply.
The word hit harder than it should have.
Nightmares.
Not guesses. Not polite concern. Recognition.
He was watching her carefully now, something softer beneath the calm.
“Like at the academy,” he added. “When you used to refuse to sleep unless someone stayed awake with you.”
Shock flickered across her face before she could stop it.
“You remember that?”
A quiet laugh left him, warm and unguarded.
“Of course I do.”
His gaze dropped briefly, the smile turning faintly distant. “You’d pretend you weren’t afraid. Then show up at my door anyway and sit in my room like you were doing me a favor.”
Because he wasn’t just remembering.
He was reliving it.
And that was what unsettled her most.
Why did he still look like that?
Like those memories hadn’t been ruined.
Like the past hadn’t split open between them and swallowed everything whole.
After everything that happened.
After what they became to each other.
She didn’t understand how he could still hold those moments gently.
Her chest tightened before she could stop it.
She looked away, then back at him, brows drawing together.
“Why do you do that?”
“That,” she said, sharper now. “Bringing up the past. There’s no reason to.” Her voice hardened, even as something beneath it wavered. “It wasn’t the best time of our lives.”
Then, softly...
“You say that like you don’t miss it.”
He turned his head slightly, studying her profile. And when he spoke again, his voice dropped just above a whisper.
“What if I did?”
She looked at him then fully, openly shocked.
But he was already leaning back, tone shifting as if he’d said nothing at all. “It was a good boarding school,” he went on lightly. “Even if there weren’t many… pleasant people.”
He nudged her shoulder with his gaze, a faint, knowing look.
“Where there at least I had a great education. I’m allowed to be grateful for that, aren’t I?”
The words were easy. Too easy.
Carefully shaped.
Safe.
Like he’d stepped neatly around something real and left it buried between them.
And she knew- with a certainty that made her chest ache
that whatever he truly meant…
he hadn’t said it.
The silence stretched too long.
Too heavy.
Too close to something she didn’t want to touch.
So she did what she always did when things edged toward something real.
She changed it.
“What are you reading?” she asked suddenly.
The shift was abrupt enough that he noticed.
But he didn’t call her out on it.
He glanced down at the book still resting loosely in his hand.
“History,” he said.
She frowned. “History of what?”
“A border province that doesn’t exist anymore,” he said lightly. “It fell apart about a century ago. Internal disputes. Weak rulers. Poor alliances.”
he stared at him.
“You’re reading about a dead province?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “There’s something poetic about studying failures.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why?”
Then, more pointedly, “We already passed the Trial of Knowledge. You don’t need to keep studying.”
That made him look at her.
“Do you think learning is something you stop once you’re tested?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated. “No, but-”
“The trial ending doesn’t mean knowledge does,” he said, not defensive, just certain. “I like knowing things. Understanding them. It makes the world feel… less random.”
His voice softened at the end, like that truth had slipped out without permission.
Then he leaned back slightly, resting his weight on one arm again, eyes drifting toward the dark stretch of garden beyond the lantern glow.
“It’s strange, though,” he added. “All of it.”
She followed his gaze. “What is?”
“The trials.”
A faint exhale left him. “It’s absurd when you think about it. A handful of tests and suddenly it decides everything.”
Her chest tightened. “It doesn’t decide everything.”
His lips curved faintly, but there was no humor in it.
“It decides enough.”
She didn’t like the way he said that.
Didn’t like the distance creeping into his voice.
“They’re meant to,” she said carefully. “They choose who’s fit to rule.”
“And who isn’t,” he murmured.
The words landed between them, quiet and sharp.
He didn’t look at her when he spoke again.
“One of us will walk out of this crowned,” he said. “And the other will be…”. A small pause. “Left behind.”
Her brows knit together.
“What does that mean?”
That finally made him glance at her.
But the look in his eyes wasn’t taunting like it usually is.
It wasn’t light.
“Well,” he said simply, “if you win… you’ll be queen.”
The word felt heavier than it should have.
“You’ll have a court. A council. A thousand expectations pulling you in a thousand directions.”
His gaze dropped briefly. “You won’t have time for things like this.”
“And if you win?” she asked quietly.
Something flickered across his face quick, almost invisible.
“If I win,” he said slowly, “then I become someone you might not want to speak to again.”
He didn’t elaborate right away.
Didn’t rush to soften it.
He looked down at the book in his hands, thumb pressing into the page like he needed something to hold onto.
“And if I’m the one wearing it…” he said slowly, voice rougher now,
“…it won’t just be a crown.”
She frowned faintly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t answer right away.
When he did, it was softer than she expected.
“It means I took the life you were supposed to have.”
The words hit harder than they should have.
“You want this,” he continued, still not looking at her. “You’ve always wanted it. Not for yourself. For them.”
A small breath. “For your family.”
“And I never did,” he admitted. “I never wanted a throne. Never cared about any of it.”
His voice dipped, quieter.
“I wanted the.... other thing.” he whispered.
Her pulse faltered. “What other thing?”
A faint smile flickered across his face gone almost instantly.
“The version where none of this mattered,” he said. “Where you weren’t bound to a crown and I wasn’t dragged into a trial I never asked for.”
The night went very still.
“The one where you ran away anyway,” he added softly. “And I went with you.”
He finally looked at her then.
And there it was not regret, not bitterness.
“And if I win,” he said quietly,
“I think you’ll stop talking to me, for good.”
No dramatics. No self-pity.
Just a truth he’d been carrying alone, was this why he was up all night?.
“Not because you hate me,” he added, almost gently.
“But because every time you look at me… I’ll be the reason you stayed.”
Her defenses rose instantly.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, sharper than before. “I need to be queen for-”
“Be honest.” he laughed in between the words.
Which somehow made it worse.
She blinked, thrown off. “I am being honest.”
“No,” he said gently, shaking his head once. “You’re saying what you think you’re supposed to say.”
The words landed like a crack through glass.
Her jaw tightened. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m not deciding anything,” he said. “I’m asking you to stop lying to yourself.”
The garden felt suddenly smaller.
“You used to talk about leaving this place like it was already decided,” he continued, voice low but steady. “You had maps hidden in your books. Routes planned. Cities you couldn’t even pronounce yet.”
Her chest tightened despite herself.
“You wanted oceans,” he said softly. “Skies no one owned. Roads that didn’t lead back to a palace.”
“That wasn’t nobles whispering in your ear,” he added. “That was all you.”
Silence stretched between them.
“So tell me the truth,” he said.
“Do you still want that?”
He didn’t sound mocking.
He didn’t sound hopeful.
Just afraid of the answer.
“And if you do,” he finished, eyes locked on hers,
“…is this crown really what you truly want?”
Her expression hardened, walls snapping back into place.
She let out a dry, disbelieving scoff. “…Have you been drinking Zaros?”
The words came out sharper than she meant them to.
Zaros didn’t react right away.
Like he was defeated in battle.
Then he hummed softly, glancing away for a brief second before looking back again.
“…Hmm,” he murmured. “Alright.”
The calm acceptance caught her off guard.
“If that’s what you’d rather believe,” he said lightly.
Then something shifted behind his eyes- not colder, but more deliberate.
“Fine,” he said. “Then let’s make it simple.”
Her brows pulled together. “Make what simple?”
Now she was staring at him.
“You’re not serious.”
His mouth curved slightly. Not amused. Not entirely.
“That depends,” he said. “Are you afraid of me figuring you out?”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she snapped instantly.
He tilted his head, watching her carefully like he’d been waiting for that exact reaction.
“Because I thought the Earis never backed down from a challenge.”
The title landed like a gauntlet thrown between them.
For a moment, she just stared at him weighing, resisting.
Then she exhaled sharply through her nose.
The word snapped between them like flint.
But something in his expression shifted not victory, not quite. Something quieter.
She lifted her chin, defiance settling into every line of her posture.
“If only to prove you wrong,” she added coldly. “And make you look ridiculous.”
The sound was so unexpected she blinked.
And just like that, something familiar flickered across his face something younger, lighter. The boy she used to know, slipping through the cracks of the man sitting before her.
“Gods,” he muttered under his breath, almost amused. “There she is.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
He leaned back slightly, studying her with a crooked, knowing look.
“The same girl from the academy,” he said softly. “I was starting to think I imagined her.”
And somehow, that landed harder than the challenge had.
Zaros didn’t answer right away.
For once, the teasing didn’t come immediately.
He looked down briefly, brushing his thumb along the edge of his book like he was deciding something.
“You know what’s funny?” he said quietly. “After the trials… we might not get to talk like this again.”
Her chest tightened, but she said nothing.
he words settled heavily between them.
He looked back at her then, something unguarded slipping through.
“So I thought,” he said, almost lightly almost
“we should make this count.”
Her brows drew together. “Make what count?”
A small, familiar smile returned, but this time it felt thinner. More intentional.
She sighed. “Of course it is.”
“Not questions,” he said quickly. “No politics. No speeches. Just honesty.”
He tilted his head slightly, studying her.
“We provoke each others reactions.”
She frowned. “That’s your idea of honesty?”
“Reactions don’t lie,” he said softly. “Not really.”
“And if this is one of the last times we get to speak without titles in the way…”
His voice dipped, quieter now.
“I’d rather hear something real, it can be our own trial.”
That was the part he didn’t hide behind a joke.
His gaze met hers, steady searching.
“So,” he murmured, “what do you say?, do you still want to do it”
The silence stretched, tight and electric.
Then she scoffed softly. “Fine,” she said, lifting her chin. “If only to prove how stupid this is.”
His smile widened not surprised. Never surprised. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
She shifted slightly on the blanket, folding her arms as if bracing herself. “And when you lose?”
He hummed, considering. “Then I lose.”
“That’s not a consequence.”
“It is if it’s to you,” he said lightly.
Her lips pressed together. Annoying. Infuriating. Too observant.
“Rules,” she said sharply, trying to regain control. “If we’re doing this, we do it properly.”
Zaros gestured lazily with one hand. “Go on, my Earis.”
No touching,” she said immediately. “No cheap tricks. No walking away.”
His mouth curved, putting a hand to his chest. “You wound me.” as he says it dramatically.
“And,” she added, eyes narrowing, “no lies.”
Something unreadable flickered across his face.
Then he nodded once. “No lies ?, oh you know me better than that My Earis”.
The air shifted. Not playful anymore. Something else. Something thinner. Sharper. Dangerous.
“Good,” she said, steadying herself. “Then start.”
Zaros watched her for a long moment.
Zaros watched her for a long moment. Not taunting now. Not smiling. Just watching.
Then, quietly, he said, “Tell me about your nightmare.”
The words landed softly, but they struck like a blade.
She stilled. Her fingers tightened slightly where they rested against her arms. “That’s not how this works.”
“It is,” he said calmly. “we promised not you lie remember, unless you want to break that again.”
Her jaw clenched. “You don’t even know if I have them anymore.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You do.”
The certainty in his voice made something twist painfully in her chest. She hated that he remembered. Hated that he noticed. Hated that, after everything, he could still look at her like he knew where the cracks were.
“That was years ago,” she said stiffly turning her head away from him.
“And yet you still didn’t deny it,” he replied.
Silence pressed in around them, heavy and suffocating. The garden suddenly felt too quiet. Too exposed.
“You’re cruel,” she muttered.
“No,” he said softly. “Just honest.”
Because this wasn’t a game. He wasn’t trying to win.
And she didn’t know if that was part of the challenge…
The silence lingered after his question. Not loud. Not heavy. Just there.
She cleared her throat quietly. “It’s the one I always have,” she said at last, her voice lower now, stripped of its usual edge.
Zaros didn’t interrupt. Didn’t move.
She kept her gaze fixed somewhere past him, as if the words were easier when she didn’t have to see where they landed. “The one where I’m alone,” she continued, more quietly. “Completely alone.”
Then, softer- “And it feels like it never ends.”
The words settled between them, thin and fragile in the night air.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t check his reaction. That was part of the game.
And to his credit, Zaros didn’t react. Not visibly.
He only tilted his head slightly, as if considering something distant rather than something that had just slipped past her defenses. Then, after a moment, his mouth curved faintly.
“Noted,” he said lightly.
Like she had told him something trivial. Like it meant nothing.
But something in the way he said it made her stomach tighten anyway.
And Zaros had never been good at pretending not to care.
She let the silence linger a moment longer, just enough for the air to shift again. Then she exhaled softly. “…My turn,” she said. Zaros lifted a brow, faint amusement flickering across his face. “Already?” She ignored him. Her eyes met his, steady now. “Do you really miss Astron?”
The question came out quieter than she intended. Not sharp. Not mocking. Just honest.
For the first time since the challenge began, something in his expression stilled. Not broken. Not exposed. Just still like a page held between fingers that hadn’t decided whether to turn.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Which, in itself, was an answer.
The night stretched thin around them, the garden suddenly too quiet for something that felt too loud. She watched him carefully, because this was the game now and she had asked something real.
hen he exhaled, soft and almost amused at himself. “Yes, I do” he said simply.
He said with no deflection.
Something in her chest tightened.
He glanced down briefly, thumb brushing absently along the worn page before letting the book rest loosely in his lap. “I really do,” he admitted. “More than I probably should.”
His voice wasn’t heavy. But it wasn’t light either.
“I think about it sometimes,” he continued, quieter now. “The debates. The arguments we took far too seriously., it was almost something like this under this tree” A faint smile touched his mouth. “How we used to sneak into places we absolutely weren’t allowed to be.”
A breath of a laugh escaped him. “You were terrible at not getting caught.”
He didn’t look at her when he said it.
Like the memory had carried him somewhere else for a moment.
“And the rest of it,” he added softly. “The small things no one else would remember.”
The night seemed to still around them.
And for the first time since the game began, the past didn’t feel like a weapon.
It felt like something fragile.
He let the words settle, like he hadn’t meant to say that much. Then his gaze returned to her, steady and quiet.
“And you?” he asked softly. “Do you miss it?”
The question wasn’t sharp like the others. No teasing, no trap just something open. And that made it he feel trapped.
Not visibly- she was far too composed for that but something inside her faltered. Her fingers tightened slightly against her sleeve.
The word echoed louder than it should have.
Because missing Astron meant missing more than stone halls and lectures and dim corridors lit by candlelight. It meant late nights and quiet laughter. Arguments that never truly ended. A version of herself that had existed before everything became duty and expectation and crowns before that stupid letter.
She hated that he had asked her this. Hated that he had asked it so gently, did he even know what he put her through?
Before she could answer, a sudden breeze swept through the gardens, colder than the night had been a moment ago. The leaves rustled overhead, and the air shifted just enough to make her shiver.
And like clockwork, his heart moved before his mind could catch up.
The reaction was immediate unthinking. Zaros shifted forward and pulled the light cloak from his shoulders, draping it around her before she could protest.
The warmth settled over her like a second heartbeat.
“Are you cold, my Earis?” he asked quietly, looking at her like she was the most fragile thing in the world, and he was the only thing keeping her together.
Because she was staring at him.
Too close now. Close enough to see the way the lantern light caught in his green eyes, softer than she remembered. Close enough to notice the faint crease between his brows, like the concern had slipped out before he could hide it.
And for a second.. just a second....everything else fell away.
The trial. The crown. The distance carved between them.
And the world seemed to still around them.
Just quiet in a way that felt dangerously fragile.
Like something neither of them was meant to touch anymore.
They both felt it the break, the quiet unraveling of something fragile neither of them had meant to touch. And neither of them cared. Not about the challenge. Not about who had reacted first. The rules had dissolved somewhere between a breath and a heartbeat, lost in the space where old memories still lived. Because neither of them moved away.
Zaros’ hand was still resting where he had pulled the cloak around her shoulders, fingers lingering at the edge of the fabric like he’d forgotten how to let go.
Slowly, almost without thinking, his hand lifted and then faltered, suspended by something unspoken before gently brushing a loose strand of her dark hair back and tucking it behind her ear.
The gesture was soft. Familiar. The kind of softness that didn’t belong in the space between rivals.
She looked at him....truly looked at him and for a moment the walls she carried so carefully felt thin. Fragile. Like they might splinter if she breathed too deeply.
“Yes…” she said quietly, the word trembling more than she wanted. “I do miss it.”
Something broke across his face then small, fleeting, but real.
A glimpse of the boy she had once known, buried beneath titles and expectations and years they could never return. But she didn’t let it stay.
Would really be so bad if we... She dared not finish the thought.
It slapped her back to reality.
Her expression steadied. Hardened.
“But I wish I didn’t,” she continued, forcing the words out before they could betray her. The distance slipped back into her voice like armor snapping into place. “Because none of that matters anymore. Not Astron. Not us. What matters is who wins this trial… and who serves this nation.”
Her fingers tightened faintly around the edge of his cloak, like she hadn’t realized she was still holding it.
“We were naive,” she said, quieter now, but unyielding. “And no- I don’t have nobles whispering in my ears. I have a duty to fulfill.”
“And so do you, for your mother too.”
Something in the night shifted. Not the wind. Not the silence. Something else. Something closing.
Carefully, she lifted the cloak from her shoulders and held it out to him.
“I’m fine,” she said, already retreating behind composure, behind distance, behind everything she knew how to survive inside. “You should keep this.”
He didn’t take it immediately. And that hurt more than she expected. She didn’t let it show.
“I think…” Her voice faltered, just for a second. “I should get some sleep, enjoy the rest of your read Sarl Zaros.” Addressing him as a rival, his title, not as friend, and certainly not as a-
And just like that, the moment ended. Or at least that’s what she told herself.
He was still watching her. Too closely. Too quietly. Like he was trying to memorize something he already knew he was losing. The teasing was gone. The ease gone with it. All that remained was something bare and unguarded she had never been meant to see again.
And he followed her lead as well not prying her any further.
“If that's the case… do you want me to make you tea?” he asked softly. “It would provide you with better sleep.”
The gentleness nearly undid her. Nearly made her stay. Nearly made her choose something else, he always does this, why?.
She shook her head at once. “No.”
Too fast. Too sharp. A refusal and a plea tangled into one.
Because if she stayed another second, she might not leave at all.
Before he could say anything else, she turned and walked away. Not running. Not rushing. Just leaving. Each step felt heavier than the last as she crossed the garden paths, through silvered moonlight and sleeping stone, carrying the weight of everything she refused to carry aloud.
She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Because she knew if she did, she would break.
By the time she reached her chambers, her hands were trembling. The door shut harder than she meant it to. The sound echoed through the empty room, sharp and lonely, and when the lock clicked into place, something inside her shattered with it.
The composure fell apart.
She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold the sound in, but the tears came anyway hot, relentless, spilling faster than she could stop them. They burned down her cheeks as she slid down against the door, the weight of everything she had buried crashing over her all at once.
Because this....this was worse than the nightmares.
Nightmares ended. They faded with morning light, dissolving into nothing but shadows and memory.
This was choosing a crown over a hand she had once held without thinking. This was walking away while he was still standing there.
And somewhere deep down, in the place she refused to name, she knew.
Some losses didn’t come from war or fate or failure.
Some came from the quiet moment you chose duty… and leaving what you truly want standing in the dark.
𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳’𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘎𝘜𝘠𝘚 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 😭 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴… 𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸… 𝘪𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘱. 𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 :)
