The fires burned low in the camp, their flickering light casting long shadows on the worn faces of the soldiers. The battle had been won, but the weight of war still pressed upon their shoulders. The wounded groaned, and the dead were being prepared for burial. Arianne moved through the tents, ensuring each soldier received the care they needed. She had insisted on being present, though her own wounds ached and exhaustion tugged at her limbs.
She found Rian standing by the edge of the camp, his back to her, gazing out into the darkened fields beyond. The faint breeze ruffled his hair, but his stance remained firm, unwavering. She knew what he was thinking—what came next.
"You should rest," she said softly, stepping beside him.
Rian glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So should you."
She shook her head. "I can't, not yet."
He exhaled, looking back at the battlefield. "Neither can I. Today was a victory, but tomorrow…"
"Tomorrow we fight again," Arianne finished for him. "But for now, we have this."
He turned to her fully then, eyes searching hers. "And what is 'this'?"
Arianne hesitated, then took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "A moment. Before the storm comes again."
Rian's fingers tightened around hers, his usual stoicism cracking just slightly. "Then let's not waste it."
The soldiers, despite their exhaustion, had gathered near the center of the camp where a small fire had been built. Someone had managed to find a jug of wine, passing it around in quiet celebration. The atmosphere was subdued, but there was relief in their laughter, in the small joys they could still share.
Arianne and Rian sat among them, listening to old stories, tales of home and of loves lost and found. It reminded her of the castle, of her brothers and their antics, of nights spent in secret laughter. She had not realized how much she missed it until now.
A soldier nearby raised his cup, his voice rough with drink and fatigue. "To our leaders! May they lead us to many more victories!"
Arianne felt her cheeks warm as the others echoed the toast. Rian only nodded, his usual quiet confidence unwavering. She envied that about him sometimes—the way he could command respect without needing to say much at all.
As the fire burned lower, the soldiers began to disperse, retreating to their tents one by one. Arianne remained seated, watching the flames dance in the night breeze.
"You should sleep," Rian murmured beside her.
She turned to him, studying his face. There was something different about him tonight, a softness in his expression that she rarely saw. "Will you stay?" she asked quietly.
His answer was simple. "Always."
And as the night stretched on, they sat together in the quiet, knowing that while the war had not ended, they had found something worth fighting for.
The silence of the camp was occasionally interrupted by the soft murmurs of those still awake, tending to the wounded or lost in their thoughts. Arianne found herself lost in the rhythmic crackling of the fire, her head resting lightly against Rian's shoulder. It was the closest she had ever allowed herself to be to him, and for once, she didn't feel the urge to pull away.
"I never asked," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Before all of this… what did you dream of?"
Rian let out a small breath, considering his answer. "A quiet life," he finally admitted. "Not one of war or duty. Just… a place to belong."
Arianne nodded, understanding more than she wanted to admit. "I used to think I belonged in the palace. That it was my home. But now…" she trailed off, her fingers tracing invisible patterns against her knee.
"Now?" he prompted, his gaze fixed on her.
She turned to face him fully, their faces only inches apart. "Now, I think I belong wherever you are."
Something shifted in Rian's eyes, a storm of emotions he had long kept buried beneath his armor. He reached up, hesitating for only a second before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Arianne…"
The weight of the world hung between them, the knowledge that come morning, they would once again step onto the battlefield, uncertain of what the future held. But for tonight, for this one fleeting moment, they had each other.
And that was enough.
Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called, its lonely song echoing through the valley. The air had grown colder, but neither Arianne nor Rian moved to seek shelter. Instead, they stayed by the fire, wrapped in the warmth of something unspoken yet understood.
Arianne closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of Rian's breath. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to feel safe.
And as the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, she whispered a quiet prayer to the gods.
Let us have another moment like this.