Chapter 54: Forbidden Glances
The evening sun painted the castle walls gold, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Elara walked along the stone path, her green hair catching the last rays of light. The air was calm, almost peaceful, yet her heart beat faster than usual. She could feel it—the lingering tension between her and Araion, the unspoken feelings that had been growing stronger with every day they spent together.
Araion was nearby, overseeing the guard drills. His armor reflected the sunlight, but he had removed his helmet, letting his green eyes shine freely. He moved with a quiet strength, every motion precise, yet there was something softer in the way he glanced toward her occasionally, a hesitation that only made her pulse quicken.
Elara stopped near the fountain, pretending to admire the water. She could feel Araion's gaze on her, warm and intense, yet restrained. She tried to focus on the crown's pulse in her hand, on the lessons it had taught her, on the duties she carried—but her mind kept drifting to him.
Finally, he approached, walking with that steady grace she had grown to notice and admire. "Elara," he said, his voice calm but carrying an unspoken emotion, "you seem distracted tonight."
She turned, meeting his green eyes, and for a moment, the world around them faded. "I… I am," she admitted softly. "I can't help it."
Araion stepped closer, careful to maintain a respectful distance, yet close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his presence. "What is it that troubles you?" he asked, though she knew it was not trouble—it was longing, a feeling that had been building between them for weeks.
Elara took a deep breath. "It's… you," she said quietly, barely above a whisper. "I can't stop thinking about you, about us… and it feels like there's something we're not allowing ourselves to feel."
Araion's gaze softened, a rare vulnerability shining through his centuries of control. "Elara… you are not wrong," he admitted. "I have felt it too, though I have tried to deny it. I have spent centuries guarding my heart, never letting anyone close. But with you… it is different. You make me want to feel, to care, to… risk more than I ever thought I could."
Elara's breath caught in her throat. She stepped slightly closer, their eyes locked. "Araion… I don't want to hide anything anymore. I don't want to hide my feelings, even if it's dangerous, even if it's… forbidden."
He hesitated, the weight of centuries of caution pressing down on him. "It is dangerous," he said quietly. "Our positions, the crown, the kingdom… everything could make this… complicated. But I cannot deny what I feel. And neither should you."
Their hands brushed, almost accidentally, sending a shiver through both of them. The air seemed to thrum with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe, impossible to think, yet impossible to ignore.
Elara's green eyes searched his. "Even if it's dangerous… I want this," she whispered.
Araion's hand hovered near hers, trembling slightly despite his usual composure. "So do I," he admitted. "But we must be careful… for the kingdom, for the crown, and for ourselves."
They walked together along the courtyard, the space between them smaller with each step, yet still measured, careful. Every glance, every subtle brush of hands, carried weight and meaning. Their conversation was light, almost casual, but the undercurrent of emotion ran strong, electrifying the air around them.
At one point, Araion adjusted the strap of her training gloves, his fingers brushing hers longer than necessary. Elara felt her pulse spike, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked up at him, and he met her gaze, green eyes burning with a restrained fire.
"I…" he began, then stopped, swallowing, as if trying to hold back centuries of longing. "I must control myself. We cannot—"
Elara stepped closer, daringly, yet still respectful. "Control… is overrated," she whispered, letting her hand rest near his, close enough that he could feel her warmth.
Araion's breath hitched, and for a moment, the centuries of restraint seemed to crack. He looked down at her hand, then into her eyes, and back again. "Elara… you are… dangerous," he admitted softly, a smile tugging at his lips despite his control. "Dangerous in ways I cannot resist."
They stopped near the fountain, the water reflecting the golden light. Araion's hand finally moved, brushing lightly against hers. The touch was electric, sending warmth and tension through both of them. Neither spoke for a moment, just standing there, letting the silent connection speak.
Elara's heart raced. She wanted to close the distance, to feel his arms around her, but she restrained herself, knowing the weight of their roles. Yet the longing in his eyes mirrored her own, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings they had tried to hide.
"You feel it too," she whispered, barely moving her lips.
Araion nodded, unable to hide it. "Every moment," he said softly. "Every glance, every brush of your hand… it is all I can think about."
The tension grew unbearable. Elara took a small step closer, and he responded instinctively, their breaths mingling, faces only inches apart. The world seemed to disappear around them, leaving only the quiet hum of the crown's magic, the fountain's gentle splashes, and the warmth of their presence.
Yet, just as they were about to close the distance further, a sudden commotion from the castle gates broke the moment. Guards shouted, a messenger rushed in with urgent news, and the reality of their responsibilities intruded.
Araion stepped back slightly, his composure returning, though his eyes never left hers. "Not yet," he said quietly, almost a command and a promise at the same time. "The world is not ready for this… but we will find a moment."
Elara nodded, hiding the small sigh of disappointment, yet her green eyes still sparkled with unspoken longing. "I'll wait," she whispered. "I don't care how long it takes. I'll wait for you."
Over the next few days, the tension between them only grew. Every shared glance, every brush of hands, every close moment in the training grounds carried a subtle electricity that neither could ignore. They trained together, fought together, and strategized together, all while silently acknowledging the feelings that simmered just beneath the surface.
Araion would often find excuses to be near her, offering guidance, adjusting her posture, or standing just slightly too close during sparring exercises. Elara, in turn, found ways to brush against him, to linger near his side, or to catch his gaze in fleeting moments when no one else was watching.
The court began to notice the subtle changes—the way the queen and king interacted, the unspoken tension in their gestures. But neither spoke openly, both aware of the risks, yet unable to resist the magnetic pull between them.
One night, after a long day of training, they stood alone in the gardens. The moonlight bathed the stones in silver, and the castle was silent. Araion finally broke the quiet, his voice low and intimate.
"Elara… I cannot keep pretending. Every moment with you… it is unbearable to hide my feelings."
Elara stepped closer, her green eyes filled with longing. "Then don't hide them," she whispered. "Not from me. Not from yourself."
Araion's hand brushed hers again, this time lingering longer. He leaned slightly closer, his gaze locked on hers. The moment hung in the air, filled with anticipation, desire, and the silent acknowledgment of love that had been growing between them for months.
And though they did not cross the final line—though lips did not meet, and embraces were held back—the tension, the longing, and the forbidden touches spoke louder than words ever could.
That night, as Elara lay in her chambers, she thought of Araion, of the warmth in his eyes, the strength in his hands, and the quiet vulnerability he had shown her. She felt the crown's pulse, steady and strong, as if acknowledging the bond that had grown—not just in battle or strategy, but in heart, trust, and unspoken love.
She smiled faintly, knowing that their moment would come, that the walls they both built around their hearts would eventually fall. And until then, the longing, the stolen touches, and the forbidden glances would carry them forward, fueling the connection that neither time, magic, nor duty could break.