Present day:-
Leoriness stood quietly, her cloak wrapped tightly around her.
The wind caught the ends of her dark hair as she stared at him—not as a princess now, not as a survivor but simply as a girl.
> "I'm ready," she said at last.
"To leave."
Elarion didn't respond right away. He remained seated on the low stone, hands resting on his knees, his mismatched eyes gazing somewhere beyond the horizon.
> "...I don't want to," she added quietly. "But I have to."
He finally glanced up.
> "Why?"
> "Because I want to walk beside you," she said. "Not behind you. Not sheltered. I want to be able to stand with you—fully. Without shame."
A pause.
She took one step closer.
> "But I still want to stay. If you told me to, I would."
Elarion's gaze didn't flicker. He didn't stand. His voice, when it came, was still and low.
> "I won't tell you to stay."
Her throat tightened. But she nodded—already expecting that.
> "I thought so," she whispered.
Then, softly, almost afraid, she asked,
> "Do I even matter to you?"
There was silence.
Elarion didn't blink.
> "You're not insignificant," he said. "But if you want to be loved… by me, then you're walking toward a void."
Her eyes shimmered. But she stood firm.
He continued, calm and exact:
> "I don't feel love. I don't miss. I don't hope. Those things were burned out of me. Long ago."
> "Then what's left?" she asked.
> "Trust," he said. "Loyalty. Improvement. Peace."
He met her eyes—his red one catching the dying light, his blue one cold as glass.
> "If someone can walk beside me without breaking… if they can change me without forcing me, if I can protect them without needing to… if I can call them 'mine' without love—then that's more than enough."
A pause.
> "That," he said quietly, "is what love means to me."
Leoriness stepped forward now. Close enough to hear his breath.
> "If that's what you can give," she said, "then I'll become someone who deserves it."
She didn't ask for more.
She didn't cry.
She turned away with grace, voice steady.
> "If you still remember me when I return—stand still, so I can find you again."
He didn't answer.
But after a long pause, he finally said—
> "If you return… and you can still stand me…"
> "Then maybe I won't walk away."
---
REACHED THE CAPITAL:-
The capital rose before them—tall walls laced with ivy and smoke, guard towers crowned in bronze, and spires gleaming beneath the sun like watchful eyes.
The city did not roar. It hummed.
Like a heart too large to be felt all at once.
They passed through the outer gate without ceremony. No royal trumpet, no banner to herald the princess's return—just the quiet shuffle of feet and merchants, bells ringing over stalls where steam rose from boiling pots and candied fruit glistened like jewels on skewers.
Leoriness stayed close to him.
She didn't know when it started, but walking beside Elarion felt... protective. Not because he said much. Not because he looked at her. But because the air around him was still. Safe.
Even when he showed no expression at all.
---
They walked through the western district—older, quieter, where families came to shop and workers broke bread between shifts.
Without a word, Elarion slowed beside a long row of food stalls. Steam drifted through gaps in painted awnings. A cart nearby sold honeyed bread twisted into braids, another roasted chestnuts dipped in flower sugar. A sweet, sticky aroma clung to the air.
> "Pick one," he said.
Leoriness blinked. "What?"
> "You'll regret it later if you don't."
His voice wasn't kind.
But it wasn't cold either.
It was just… factual. As if he'd already calculated what she'd feel in four hours.
So she picked one.
And another.
And another.
He paid each time without comment.
When she offered a bite of candied rice roll to him, he took it with gloved fingers, examined it, and placed it behind his mask—calm, controlled.
He didn't speak.
But the pause before he took the second bite was a little longer.
---
They sat beneath a quiet archway, their backs to the breeze.
Around them, people passed, glancing at the strange pair—he, tall and still, masked and silver-haired like a spirit from a forgotten legend. She, elegant and radiant even without her royal robes, her presence undeniable.
> "You don't smile," she said quietly.
Elarion didn't turn.
> "I don't feel the need to."
> "Do you enjoy this?"
> "Not enough to call it joy," he replied. "But it's… acceptable."
Leoriness stared at her half-eaten dumpling.
> "You sometimes feel lonely"
He didn't answer.
She didn't mind either, he was here with her— And that was enough for her to be content.
---
They had been walking side by side for some time, the bustle of the capital fading into a quieter stretch of stone-paved street.
Leoriness's gaze kept flicking toward him—specifically, to the curve of his jaw beneath the mask, the way the late light caught in his mismatched eyes. She didn't even realize she was staring until his voice broke the silence.
> "Stop looking at me like that."
Her step faltered. "Like what?"
> "Like you're about to steal something."
Heat crept into her cheeks. "I was not."
> "You were," he said evenly, not even glancing at her. "And whatever it was, you weren't planning on returning it."
Leoriness pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. "Maybe I was just thinking about… my power."
> "Mm." His tone was unreadable. "That's somehow worse."
She tilted her head at him. "What is my power, anyway? Can I… help you with it?"
> "Why do you want to?"
She shrugged, fingers brushing the edge of her cloak. "Just… because."
He glanced down at her, his stride never slowing.
> "Your power is called Dominion Link."
Her eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
> "I know everything."
She laughed softly. "Oh, I see. Indeed you do."
> "Your main focus is stabilizing or suppressing energy," he continued. "It works on allies and enemies. If someone's power spirals, you can lock it down. Or weaken an enemy's flow."
Leoriness's expression brightened. "That sounds good. I could help you with that, then?"
> "Yes," he said simply. "One day, you'll be able to stabilize mine."
She straightened, determination sparking in her eyes. "Then I'll train hard."
> "We'll see."
They kept walking, her words spilling more freely now. He gave short replies, but each one landed like a small anchor, grounding the moment. She didn't notice when their hands brushed once—twice—until he adjusted his stride to match hers.
She looked at him again, and this time, when her gaze lingered on his mask, he caught it instantly.
> "Still staring," he murmured.
She grinned, unashamed now. "Maybe I like what I see."
For a moment, his red eye caught hers, unreadable as ever. Then he looked forward again.
> "Restraint, Leoriness," he said quietly. "That's what keeps people from getting burned."
"Sometimes," she replied, "restraint keeps you from getting warm."
He didn't answer. But his pace slowed, just enough for her to notice.