The Summer Pavilion glowed beneath the late afternoon sun, a quiet sanctuary tucked within the palace gardens. Marble columns, wrapped in slow-growing ivy, cast soft shadows across the courtyard. Light filtered through the canopy above, dancing along the stone floor and catching in the gentle spray of twin fountains.
The air carried the scent of jasmine, and something sweeter. One of Orielle's latest creation. She sat near the fountain, recipe sheets scattered around her, their edges fluttering in the warm breeze as she scribbled small notes into the margins.
The soft click of footsteps against stone broke the calm.
Her heart leapt with even the thought of it possibly being Tirian. She looked up, and quickly looked down. The excitement faded just as quickly as it came, replaced by something cooler, more guarded.
She lowered her gaze back to her notes.
Tirian stopped a few paces away. "Orielle…" he began, his voice measured, though tension lingered beneath it. "I hear you're planning a tea gathering. Guests from outside the palace?"
Orielle didn't look up immediately. "…Ah," she said lightly, eyes still on the page. "So you do hear things about me."
Then she glanced up, meeting his gaze. "Yes. I am." Her tone remained calm but her eyes didn't quite match it. "Pearl is helping me organize it. It's nothing grand. Just tea… pastries… and my friends from home." She paused for a moment gathering her calm. "It's been a long time since I've seen them."
Tirian's jaw tightened. She's lonely…? I thought Pearl's visit would help… he thought before straightening. "Orielle, this isn't the time for social gatherings. You don't know what intentions they might bring. You're not just—" He hesitated. "…You're not just anyone anymore."
Orielle stood. Her composure cracked. "Those people?" she snapped, her voice rising. "They're my friends, Tirian. People I grew up with. They would never hurt me."
She took a step toward him. "But that's not even the point." Her voice trembled now, evident hurt like something held back for too long. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."
A beat. "It's been three weeks since we've had a real conversation." Her eyes burned. "You ignored me for basically a month. Not a word."
She let out a sharp breath. "And now that I'm doing something other than sitting quietly and waiting for you… suddenly you have something to say?"
Tirian's expression softened, guilt slipping through. "I wasn't ignoring you," he said quietly. "I was handling matters. Threats that are too dangerous to involve you-."
"Then tell me!" Orielle shot back. The words came fast now, breaking past restraint. "I am not a porcelain doll!" Her hands clenched at her sides. "I know I can't fight like you—but can't you at least speak to me? You said you wanted me beside you, yet you've kept me completely in the dark!"
Her voice wavered slightly, "I've tried every day to belong here… and you just keep pushing me away." tears threatening to fall she swallowed hard, "I know you think you're protecting me." Her eyes lifted to his. "But this way? This—this silence—it just hurts me."
Her voice softened. "And it makes me feel foolish for trying."
Tirian tried to stay firm, but his voice lacked its usual certainty. "You don't understand the danger—"
"I understand fear," she cut in immediately. Her voice steadied. "I grew up fearing hunger. Storms that could wipe out everything we had." She stepped closer. "You think the answer to any of that was to sit still and wait?"
Her head shook. "No."
"Even when I couldn't fix it myself… it mattered to know. To face it together."
Silence fell, and Tirian only stared at her. Something in her defiance, her honesty, struck deeper than he expected. My little fox… He exhaled slowly, the tension in him shifting. "I only want to keep you safe…" he admitted, quieter now.
His gaze softened. "…Because I can't lose you, Orielle." The anger in her eyes flickered then started to fade.
Silence stretched between them for a while. "Then trust me to live," she said, her voice steady. "Not just survive."
Tirian looked away briefly, frustration tightening his jaw before he nodded. "…If you're set on this gathering," he said, conceding, "then you'll have protection."
He met her eyes again. "Sir Dante and Dame Yida will remain close. Starting today."
Orielle blinked. "You're… giving in?"
A faint, tired smile touched his lips. "I'm compromising."
Before he could react she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, Tirian!"
He stiffened slightly, caught off guard. Slowly, his hands rose and settled gently on her shoulders. "You… are difficult to argue with," he murmured.
Orielle pulled back just enough to look up at him.
That's when she noticed that he wasn't meeting her eyes. he didn't seem angry, but he did seem tired. Her expression softened slightly. "Then…" she hesitated, "will you come?"
A small, hopeful smile formed. "I'll make tarts. Like the ones I sent you." Then suddenly a pout formed. "Actually—you never even told me if you liked them."
Tirian stilled. A faint flush crept across his cheeks as he looked away. "I did," he admitted. "I… looked forward to them. Every day."
Orielle blinked. "…You actually... ate them?" She gave his chest a light, playful hit. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
Tirian's expression tightened again, a little conflicted. "…Because I was worried."
Orielle stepped back slightly, searching his face. "Worried about what?"
He hesitated, for once, he didn't have an easy answer. "I…" he started, then exhaled, forcing the words out more honestly this time. "I didn't want to come to you with nothing."
His gaze dropped. "I knew you'd ask questions. About what's happening. About the dangers."
"And I didn't have answers yet." His jaw tightened. "I couldn't solve it. I couldn't control it."
His voice lowered. "And every time I thought of seeing you… I knew I'd have to admit that." A quiet, bitter breath left him. "I didn't want to stand in front of you empty-handed… frustrated… without a way to fix it."
He finally looked at her. "So I stayed away."
Orielle stared at him, her confused face turned into an unimpressed frown, "…So," she said slowly, "you avoided me…" A small, incredulous breath. "…because you didn't have the answers yet?"
She stepped closer again, "Tirian…" and placed her hand on his arm, "Please tell me you can hear how flawed that sounds."
Silence. Tirian only looked down, ashamed but also struggling to explain the depth of the matter without explaining further.
Orielle wrapped her arms around Tirian again "Do you even know why I sent you those tarts?"
Tirian blinked, caught off guard. "…Because you wanted me to try them?"
Orielle stared at him for a second, then dropped her forehead straight into his chest. "You stupid king…"
The words were muffled, but the meaning was clear. Tirian let out a soft laugh, the tension finally easing as his hand lifted to her hair, gently ruffling it. "Alright," he murmured, a hint of warmth returning to his voice. "I'm sorry." a real smile formed on his lips "I won't avoid you anymore."
Orielle shifted slightly, lifting her chin to rest against his chest so she could look up at him. Her eyes searched his face, still holding onto that stubborn edge. "You know…" she said slowly, "all of this could've been avoided."
Tirian scoffed lightly, amusement slipping through. "Is that so?" His hand moved from her hair, settling against the side of her face, his thumb brushing softly along her cheek. And she leaned into it lovingly.
"Could you... send me a few tarts again," he said, his tone quieter now. "Hmm?"
Orielle's lips curved into a pout. "You could just come yourself," she countered. "Then you could meet everyone… There was hope in her voice, but it was careful.
Tirian studied her for a moment. Then gently, he guided her back just enough so he could lean down, bringing himself closer to her level. "Alright," he said, a small smile forming. "I'll come."
A brief pause. "I may be a little late… is that alright?"
Orielle froze. "What—really?" she squealed, her entire face lighting up. "Yes! That's perfectly fine!" She grabbed onto his shirt, excitement bubbling over instantly. "As long as you come! You can meet everyone—Primrose is a bit shy, so she probably won't talk much, but Yinse and Anla will definitely want to meet you—oh wait—"
She stopped abruptly. "Yinse might say something ridiculous… I should warn her first…"
Tirian laughed softly, watching her as she spiraled into her thoughts again, her words tumbling over each other. "I'll have to make sure everything's perfect—oh! And Killian couldn't make it, something about fields being burnt! It's horrible really, so I completely understand! anyways the others-"
Tirian's brows knit slightly. Killian…? A man? But before he could say anything Orielle had already moved on.
"—and we used to sneak into the orchards together," she continued, completely unaware, her hands moving as she spoke. "Anla would distract the farmer, and Yinse would grab the apples, but Primrose always felt too guilty so she'd apologize while we were still running—"
She laughed at the memory. Her voice softened slightly, fondness weaving through her words. "We did everything together… it's been so long since I've seen them…"
Tirian didn't interrupt, he simply watched her. Listened to her voice and how her eyes lit up, something he hadn't heard or seen in weeks. I missed this… A quiet realization settled in his chest. I truly am a fool.
Orielle kept talking, drifting from one memory to another, her laughter light, her thoughts unfiltered now.
-----
The next day, the Summer Pavilion had never looked more beautiful. Sunlight poured through the canopy of vines above, scattering soft petals across the marble floor like drifting confetti. A long table, draped in pale linen, stretched through the center, adorned with crystal dishes filled with Orielle's tarts and an assortment of carefully prepared treats.
The air was rich with sweetness. Cream, honey, and spice, blending effortlessly with the jasmine carried by the fountains' gentle murmur.
It should have felt perfect.
Orielle smiled as laughter filled the space, her friends gathered around her just as they once had been. Anla leaned forward, animated as ever, her hands moving wildly as she spoke.
Yinse interrupted constantly, half her words teasing, the other half completely unfiltered.
Primrose sat a little closer to Orielle, quieter, though her soft laughter slipped through more often than not.
Just minutes ago, their reunion had been filled with tears, tight embraces, worried questions, hands checking as if to make sure Orielle was truly there.
But something made Orielle fell uneasy.
As the ladies spoke over one another, shared stories, laughed too loudly, and ate far more than they should have.
Orielle gaze drifted. Not to her friends but beyond them, to the edges of the pavilion.
Only two maids moved quietly along the perimeter, their steps careful, their presence… restrained. They refilled cups, adjusted plates, but seemed tense.
The usual liveliness of the palace was missing. The gardens, too, felt… still. Orielle's smile faltered, just slightly. Her eyes shifted further. At the far end of the pavilion stood Sir Dante and Dame Yida. Their posture was rigid, their eyes sweeping every corner, every shadow, and every movement, they seemed alert and nervous for some reason too.
And Orielle could feel it. A quiet unease began to settle in her chest, unwelcome and persistent. Her own handmaidens were absent.
Summoned away early that morning, just after helping her dress, with no explanation. She hadn't thought much of it at the time. But now, something felt wrong.
The laughter around her continued, bright and unaware. Orielle let out a small laugh as well. But it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Something was definitely amiss.