Late at night, Elara wandered the castle kitchen, trying to get used to this strange, gilded life. Trapped within the walls she had no desire to call home, she poked at ingredients, tasted spices, and muttered under her breath. Somehow, this quiet, domestic routine felt foreign—stifling—but also… strangely amusing.
Outside, Margaret paced the garden, the cool night brushing her cheeks. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she wondered what was coming. Every plan, every shadow, every whisper of the city beyond the walls stirred a knot in her chest. Even a Queen could feel uncertainty.
Meanwhile, Laury and James were at the soldiers' camp, reviewing patrols, routes, and strategies. After long hours, they finally decided to rest. James stretched out on a cot and fell asleep almost immediately. Laury, however, could not.
He wandered into the garden, drawn by the moonlight and the quiet presence of Margaret. She was leaning against the stone railing, eyes fixed on the distant city. He bowed instinctively, then stood behind her, careful to give space, careful not to disturb her thoughts.
"You think this Elara is safe?" Margaret asked without looking at him.
Laury's voice was calm. "Not more dangerous than you, Your Majesty. You are the Queen."
Margaret exhaled slowly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "You know… sometimes I wonder… what if I weren't the Queen? What if I didn't have all these responsibilities? If I didn't have to bear the weight of everything?"
Laury hesitated. He didn't know what to say—how could he? But he didn't want her to sink into sadness. "Would you… like to feel like you are not the Queen?"
She turned, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "What do you mean?"
Laury held out his hand. "Come with me."
He led her to the servants' dressing room. Quietly, he picked out a dress—not royal, not intimidating, just soft, free. He handed it to her. "Wear this. Take off the crown. Forget it all for a moment."
Margaret hesitated, then laughed. Not the Queen's laugh. Something freer, lighter, almost like a girl again. She slipped into the dress, untied her hair, letting it fall freely over her shoulders. No crown, no rigid posture—just Margaret, herself.
Laury waited outside. When she appeared, hair cascading freely, eyes sparkling, he could only stare.
"Why didn't you wear it?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
She smirked. "I am wearing it."
Laury blinked. "Oh… then power isn't just in the dress. It's in the person herself."
Margaret stepped closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She lifted one finger and pressed it gently against his forehead. "Now," she said softly, "I am Margaret. Or the Queen. Forget about the crown. Forget about the title. Only me."
Hand in hand, they slipped through a trapdoor, moving silently to avoid detection. A guard appeared suddenly. Laury reacted without thought, pulling Margaret behind the wall. Her head rested against his chest; his arms wrapped around her waist, steady, protective. The guard paused, uncertain, then moved along, giving them a moment of safety.
Margaret shifted, playful and bold. "Mm… can you free me now?"
Laury's cheeks warmed. He bowed slightly. "My apologies," he murmured, then took her hand once more.
And just like that, they ran. Through the dark streets, their laughter spilling into the night, unrestrained, reckless, and free.
No duty. No crown. No orders.
Just two young people, running together, hand in hand, stealing a moment of happiness in a world that demanded perfection and obedience.
Questions swirled between them, unspoken but heavy:
What are Sani Scabar's plans?
Who are they truly hunting—Laury, the Queen, or both?
Could they ever allow themselves to feel… anything beyond loyalty?
For now, though, the night belonged to them. Their laughter echoed off the stone walls, warm and light, carrying in it the possibility of freedom. Margaret's hair brushed against his arm; Laury's fingers squeezed hers gently. They stole glances, soft, unguarded, trying to figure out what they felt—but for a few moments, the world outside vanished.
And in the shadows of the city, beneath the watchful eyes of spies and stars alike, they were just two people… daring to be happy.