Author's Note:
This story is written in fragments.
Might be in random timeline.
Pay attention to all author's notes.
Written just for fun. My focus is on Divorced by The CEO.
*****
"Took an earthquake to bring you home."
She turned to him, looking completely exhausted. There's not even a hint of surprise to see the king there, in Noctyra Temple, up Mount Aurel. She knew he'd be there, sooner or later.
"You didn't cause it, right?"
He stood beside her, overlooking the kingdom below them. They both could see the village that experienced the earthquake from there.
"Have some sense, Nara. Would I attack my own land? When I know this land's wound would cause you to be physically hurt?"
"How many died?"
"...fifteen."
She broke into a sob.
"Haven't you trained?" He asked, panicking, reaching for her who turned and saw her sitting on the ground. "I knew you did. I knew you trained to not let each death of our people hurt you physically."
"Fifteen is a lot. And not from natural death as well."
"What do you mean? It was a natural disaster!"
"No. This is my fault. I wasn't here. The land's defense became weaker."
He was silent. And even if he was silent, it felt like an accusation to her.
"Why did you leave? I didn't understand it back then. Even now, I still don't get it."
"I sensed something wrong. That's why I left. I was finding the answers."
"What was wrong? I thought everything was alright! We were preparing our wedding, Jenara!!!"
"I kept…..feeling the prickings of needles on me."
He knew, ever since they were very young, it meant she felt the death of their people. One death meant one prick of needle on her skin.
"It happened a lot. For weeks."
"But there were no—"
"I know. Something happened. I went to find out why."
"And did you find it?"
"I did."
"What was it?"
"We have a hidden enemy. Aurevallen is in danger."
He didn't turn to her immediately.
"Aurevallen has survived wars, plagues, broken treaties," Kevan said quietly. "You don't leave the kingdom for feelings, Jenara. You leave for proof."
She lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were red, but dry now—like she had already cried herself empty long before he arrived.
"I didn't leave because I was afraid," she said. "I left because the Flame was afraid."
That made him look at her.
"The Eternal Flame doesn't fear," he said. "It is fear, to our enemies."
"It trembled," she replied. "Not violently. Not like it does when your power surges. It… thinned. Like a breath held for too long."
Kevan's jaw tightened.
"You should have told me."
"And you would have done what?" she asked softly. "Called the council? Mobilized the Lords? Brought the Crown closer to yourself?"
He didn't answer.
She pushed herself up from the ground, unsteady but proud, robes gathering dust and ash from the temple floor.
"That thing you wear so carefully," she continued, "the restraint you pride yourself on—something has been testing it. Quietly. Patiently. Waiting for you to slip."
"The earthquake," he said. "That wasn't me."
"I know." She met his eyes fully now. "If it were you, the mountain would have split. This was… measured."
The wind howled through the temple columns, carrying the distant sound of bells from the lower villages—mourning bells.
Kevan swallowed.
"You felt fifteen deaths," he said. "I ordered the burial rites myself. I stood with their families. But you—" His voice broke despite himself. "You carried it in your body."
"That's what Noctyras do," she said simply. "We don't mourn later. We absorb it immediately."
He took a step closer before he realized he was moving.
"Two years," he said. "Two years without you beside the Flame. Two years of pretending the land was fine because I was."
"And two years of me learning what happens when balance is delayed," she replied.
Silence stretched between them—heavy, charged, old.
Finally, Kevan asked the question he had been holding since the moment he felt the mountain shake.
"Is it the Crown?"
Jenara's breath caught. Just slightly.
"It's older than the Crown," she said. "The Crown is only a mouthpiece."
"For what?"
She hesitated. Not out of fear—but because naming things had consequences.
"For Silence," she said at last. "For something that believes the world was better before us. Before fire. Before vows. Before choice."
Kevan exhaled slowly, fire stirring beneath his skin in response.
"And you came back," he said. "Even knowing that."
She looked at him then—not as priestess to king, not as fiancée to groom—but as the boy who once held her wrist when his power first burned out of control.
"I never left to abandon you," she said. "I left so I could come back with truth."
He reached for her hand—then stopped himself, fingers curling mid-air.
"Jenara," he said quietly. "If this enemy is real… if it's what you think it is—"
"It will try to separate us," she finished for him. "Not by force. By reason."
Their eyes locked.
"And will it succeed?" he asked.
She shook her head once.
"Not anymore," she said. "I'm home."
Above them, unseen by both, the Eternal Flame steadied—small, wounded, but alive.
*****