I stood at the balcony looking to the horizon as I admired the kingdom. I sighed, ready to retire to bed.
Then. A familiar scent filled the air...
It was Prince Lucien...
The night outside Elyrion's castle was aglow with gentle silver light. A full moon bathed the quiet city in stillness, and the great colosseum, though no longer echoing with the cries of battle, loomed in the distance like a relic of legend. The duel had ended, but the world had not yet moved on. Not entirely.
The chamber Mirelleth had been granted was unlike anything she had known. Embroidered velvet, silken pillows, a bed large enough to float in, and even the hearth whispered warmth, not just heat. It all felt surreal. She'd grown up brushing dust from hay beds. Sleeping beneath patched roofs. Being a maid was all she had ever known.
And yet, tonight, she was something else. Seen. Heard. Desired.
She closed her eyes. No, she thought. This isn't my world.
And then, the scent returned.
Like cinnamon, faint spice, and something ancient — like the air before a storm, but sweeter. Her heart jumped. Slowly, she turned, and there he stood.
Lucien.
Not announced by trumpet. Not flanked by knights. Not glowing with power as he had in the arena.
Just him.
Standing in her doorway.
His dark hair was tousled, wind-touched. His white shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a small glint of the silver chain he always wore beneath. No sword. No crown. His gaze was not that of a prince, nor a warrior.
It was the gaze of a man.
And it was fixed on her.
"You shouldn't be here," Mirelleth said softly, her voice barely more than breath. She stepped back as he entered, though she made no real attempt to stop him.
He said nothing. The door closed with a gentle click behind him.
Lucien walked slowly, his steps unhurried, deliberate. He looked around the room as if seeing it through her eyes. Then, he looked at her, only her.
"You spoke in the garden," he said at last. His voice was low, deeper than before, like the tone of someone who had shed pretense.
She turned away. "I told you the truth."
"You told me what you believed," he corrected. "That you're not fit for me. That Vaeloria is better."
She said nothing.
"You called her perfect."
Still silence.
He moved behind her, close enough for her to feel the heat of him, but he didn't touch her. "But she doesn't carry stars in her voice when she speaks. She doesn't try to hide her pain behind a practiced smile. And she doesn't make me forget I'm royalty."
Mirelleth shivered.
He continued, voice barely a whisper now. "You do."
She turned to face him. Her eyes shone, not with tears, but with something stronger — resolve. "You deserve more than a servant."
He took her hand, slowly, gently. "I deserve truth. And you... you are the most honest thing I have ever known."
She looked down. "What you feel... it might pass. The novelty, the kindness..."
"No," he interrupted. "You don't understand, do you? You think I love you because you're not like them. But that's not it. I love you because you are you. Because in my world where everyone is high and exaulted, with the most of them exaulted by self will, pride and vanity, your life is modest."
She finally met his gaze. It was unshakable.
Lucien leaned in. "And now, Mirelleth... my love will not just be words. It will be action. It will be protection. It will be promise."
His lips brushed her forehead.
She closed her eyes.
"Would you come with me?" he asked softly.
I stammered, unsure. "M-my Lord... now?"
He offered his hand. "I can't sleep. And I don't wish to be alone."
---
Lucien led her through quiet, moonlit corridors and down the winding paths of the castle's outer gardens. The air smelled of jasmine and night roses. Fireflies blinked in the foliage like enchanted stars.
They came to rest beneath an ancient silverleaf tree, whose branches bowed over a bench. Above them, the night sky stretched wide, an ocean of glittering stars.
Lucien sat, and gently tugged Mirelleth down beside him.
"You've been avoiding me since the duel," he said after a moment.
I lowered her eyes. "I... wasn't sure I should be near you, Your Highness."
"Lucien," he corrected.
I looked up.
"Just Lucien, when it's the two of us alone."
Mirelleth's throat tightened. She gave a shy nod. "Lucien."
He looked up at the stars.
"Do you see that?" He pointed to a glowing constellation. "That's the Crown of Elarion. My mother used to tell me the stars tell stories, but only to those willing to listen."
He turned his gaze to her.
"And you, Mirelleth... what story do your stars tell?"
She hesitated. "I... I don't know. I never knew how to listen to them."
Lucien didn't rush her. He waited.
I wrapped my arms around myself. "My parents died when I was very young. I don't even know their names."
Lucien's expression softened.
"A plague swept through our part of Dravenguard," she continued. "The kind that burns fast and leaves nothing. The maids say I was barely a year old. I was found in the rubble of a village that doesn't even have a name anymore."
She looked away, ashamed as if the memory were something to be guilty for. "I was raised in a noble house, but not as one of them. I was a servant... a ghost in corridors."
"Until Vaeloria found you," Lucien said.
She smiled faintly. "Yes. She saw me."
Lucien nodded. "I'm glad she did. Or else we might never have met."
Mirelleth's heart beat faster.
Lucien leaned back slightly, looking at the sky. "What do you dream of, Mirelleth? If you could go anywhere, be anything, what would it be?"
She fidgeted with her hands. "I've never really thought about it. Dreams weren't something I was allowed to have."
"You are now."
She was silent for a long time.
"I guess... I would love a place to call mine. A little garden. A small house. Books. Peace."
Lucien smiled. "That's not a little dream. That's a great one."
"What about you?" i asked, surprised at myself that I did.
Lucien's gaze turned inward. "I want to rule differently. I want to break the cycle of fear and judgement. To be powerful, yes... but not for domination. For love. For a kind of glory that can only descend when love leads."
He turned toward her again. "I need someone beside me who sees the world not for what it is, but what it could be."
Mirelleth's lips parted slightly. Her breath caught.
"I'm not that person," she whispered. "I'm not a princess, or a war maiden. I'm just... me."
"And that's who I want."
He placed a hand gently over hers. "You've seen cruelty. And yet you're kind. You've known silence. And yet you choose to speak softly, never harshly. That takes strength."
Mirelleth didn't know what to say. Her face flushed, eyes shimmering.
He reached and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "You don't have to say anything. Just know this: my love will soon be more than words and gentle gestures. I will prove it, not through crowns or courts, but through consistency and sacrifice."
Her lip quivered yet she felt safe. And before she knew it, she had rested her head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady, calm. A lullaby.
She fell asleep in the cradle of his arms beneath the stars.
Lucien gazed down at her. With utmost gentleness, he lifted her in his arms and carried her back through the castle's quiet empty halls.
He laid her softly on her bed, tucking the blanket over her. He lingered there, just long enough to brush a kiss against her forehead.
Then, without a word, he turned and left.
Morning.
Dawn painted Artherion in amber and gold. The castle was alive with motion as the guests prepared to leave. Guards stood tall and alert. Horses neighed. Luggage was loaded. Farewells were exchanged in velvet whispers.
Princess Vaeloria, clad in imperial purple, glided across the main hall, I followed behind her. The princess said nothing about the previous night, though her eyes flicked towards me often.
Lucien stood atop the castle steps, speaking with King Eldrin and the Queen. His stance was poised, but his eyes searched for something. Someone.
Then he saw her.
Their gazes met.
And for that one second, there was no noise. No movement. Just them.
We can't be seen locked eyes or I'm dead once I get back to Dravenguard. I lowered my head.
Lucien said nothing, only watched as the Dravenguard procession began their departure.
I did not look back. I should not either.
The ride to Dravenguard was long. Silent. I said little, to Princess Vaeloria, to her credit, tried to make conversation.
"He will not forget you," the princess said at one point.
I glanced up.
"Lucien."
I remained quiet.
"He looked at you the way a man looks at his future."
"I am his past now, " I whispered.
Princess Vaeloria said nothing more.
Far behind, in Artherion, Lucien stood in the very same garden they had spoken.
The leaves stirred gently in the breeze. The flowers Mirelleth had touched were still bent with memory.
He looked to the sky.
And spoke, not to anyone present, but to her.
"It won't be long, my love. This is not the end."
His voice, calm and resolute, carried a promise.
A storm was coming. A future unwritten.
And Lucien would chase it to its end.