The moon hung heavy above Eldoria's castle gardens, casting silver light upon roses bowed with dew. The paths lay deserted, for the hour was late, and the guards who patrolled the walls paid little mind to the silent blooms below. In the shadows of an ivy-clad arbor, Elswyth waited, her breath misting in the cool night air.
Her heart pounded with equal parts fear and anticipation. She had told herself she would not come. She had sworn that her honor, her duty, demanded distance. And yet, here she stood—waiting for him, as though her very soul had dragged her from her chamber.
A figure emerged from the darkness, his cloak trailing behind him, his steps urgent yet careful. Caedmon. His face was half-lit by the moon, and the sight of him made Elswyth's breath catch. He bowed his head slightly, not as a prince, but as a man surrendering his heart.
"My lady," he whispered, the words trembling with reverence.
"No," she answered, her hand reaching for his before he could draw it away. Her fingers closed around his calloused palm, firm yet tender. "Not my lady. To you, I am only Elswyth."
They walked together between the rose bushes, their steps soft upon the gravel. She spoke of her childhood—of summers by the northern river, of how she once dreamed of traveling to far-off lands. He shared his ownsecret wish: not for crowns or armies, but for a life lived freely, with love unburdened by duty.
The roses swayed gently, their fragrance mingling with the night air, as if the garden itself conspired to shelter their confession. Caedmon stopped suddenly, his chest rising with a storm he could no longer contain. His hand rose to her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her skin.
"If this be treason," he murmured, his voice breaking with need, "then let me be guilty forever."
Elswyth's eyes shimmered as her lips parted in answer. And beneath the arbor, surrounded by roses and moonlight, their mouths met for the first time.
The kiss was not fierce, nor hurried—it was trembling, tender, the kind of kiss that seared itself into memory. For though they knew the world would call it betrayal, to them it felt like truth.
---