Moonlight poured like silver rain across the castle gardens, washing the marble paths and rose vines in a quiet glow. The night guards kept their distance here — the Queen's Garden was sacred, meant for solitude, prayer… and secrets.
Sir Alric walked the perimeter in silence, armored steps softened by the grass. His duty was simple: patrol, observe, remain unseen.
He had done this a hundred nights before.
Until he saw her.
Lady Elowen stood beneath the old rose arch, her ivory gown catching the moonlight as if it belonged to her. She reached gently for a white rose, careful not to touch its thorns.
Alric froze.
He should leave.
Knights did not linger near royal brides — especially not one promised to the king within the month.
But when she turned, their eyes met.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then —
"You needn't hide, Sir Knight," she said softly. "I heard your armor long before I saw you."
Alric stepped forward, bowing immediately.
"My lady, forgive me. I meant no intrusion. I was only—"
"Doing your duty?" she finished, a faint smile touching her lips. "You all are."
Her gaze drifted back to the rose.
"It must be heavy… carrying vows all the time."
Alric straightened slightly, caught off guard.
"It is an honor, my lady."
"Is it?" she asked quietly. "Or simply a beautiful cage?"
The question lingered between them like mist.
Alric hesitated. "A knight's oath gives his life purpose."
"And if his heart desires something beyond that purpose?"
He looked at her then — truly looked.
There was no arrogance in her face. Only sadness… and curiosity.
"A knight's heart," he said carefully, "is sworn to the Crown."
Elowen plucked the white rose at last, wincing slightly as a thorn caught her finger.
Alric moved without thinking. He took her hand gently.
"My lady — you're hurt."
"It's nothing," she whispered, though she didn't pull away.
He removed his gauntlet, tearing a strip of cloth from beneath his armor to wrap her finger. His hands were steady in battle…
But not now.
"You should not bleed for a flower," he murmured.
"And you should not bleed for a throne," she replied.
Their eyes lifted — closer now.
Too close.
Alric released her hand quickly, stepping back as if burned.
"Forgive me. I overstepped."
Elowen studied the bandage, then the knight before her.
"You speak as though kindness is a crime."
"For me, it can be."
A silence followed — not empty, but heavy with things neither dared say.
She held out the rose.
"Then take this, Sir Alric."
He frowned slightly. "My lady?"
"For your trouble… and your kindness."
"I cannot accept gifts from the royal household."
"It is not from the household," she said gently. "It is from Elowen."
He should refuse.
Every lesson, every oath, every law in his blood demanded it.
Yet his hand moved anyway.
He accepted the rose.
Their fingers brushed — brief, electric.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
She smiled, but there was sorrow in it.
"Tell me, Sir Alric… do you believe vows can ever be broken?"
He looked down at the white rose in his grasp.
"Yes," he said after a long pause.
"And what happens when they are?"
His voice lowered.
"Kingdoms fall. Men die."
Elowen's gaze softened.
"And hearts?"
Alric met her eyes again.
"Those fall first."
Footsteps echoed faintly from the distant corridor — guards approaching.
Elowen stepped back quickly, the moment shattering like glass.
"You should go," she whispered.
"Yes, my lady."
He turned to leave, then stopped.
Behind him, her voice came once more:
"Sir Alric?"
He glanced back.
"If you patrol this garden again…" she said, "…walk a little slower."
For the first time that night, he allowed himself the smallest smile.
"As you wish, my lady."
He disappeared into the shadows, the white rose clenched carefully in his hand — already more dangerous than any blade he carried.
And beneath the moonlit arch, Lady Elowen watched him go… her heart already entangled in an oath that was never.