The sky split open over the Rhain border.
Not with thunder.
But with steel.
With betrayal.
With the sound of one banner falling—and another rising.
---
Elara stood atop the ridge.
She was meant to stay behind. She was meant to wait.
But when the second raven came—blacked in blood, carrying the seal of her Duke—
She didn't wait.
She ran.
---
"Cladus!" she shouted, riding into chaos.
Smoke veiled the hills. Screams tore the air.
The Rhain forces were flanked—ambushed by mercenaries, hired from within.
Someone had betrayed them.
And in the center of it all—
She saw him.
---
Duke Cladus stood with one arm soaked in red.
He held his sword in his left now.
Still striking. Still holding the line.
But even he—unbreakable Cladus—was staggering.
He saw her.
And then—
He fell.
---
"Cladus!"
Elara slid from her horse, knelt at his side.
"Don't you dare. Don't you dare close your eyes."
He gave her a faint smirk.
"You told me to follow."
"Not into a bloodbath!" she snapped.
"I didn't know… I'd want to live this badly."
---
But she didn't break.
Not fully.
Even as the mercenaries surged toward them. Even as her guard scattered and the general fled.
Elara rose.
"Form the lines!" she ordered. "We hold the cliff!"
"But Your Grace—"
"I said HOLD!"
Her crown glinted like fire in the sun.
Her hands were stained in Cladus's blood.
But her voice—
That voice could command legions.
---
Then came the moment.
When it all started to collapse.
A wall of arrows. A final push.
Her flank was failing. Her soldiers buckled.
And she whispered, not as queen—but as a woman trying not to lose the only man who stayed:
"Please… not like this."
---
And then—
From the smoke—
A figure.
Black-cloaked. Moving fast. Striking faster.
Not a soldier. Not a knight.
Something sharper.
A blur of blades. A voice like silk-coated venom.
"Terrible posture, these mercenaries," the man muttered. "And honestly? Boring boots."
A sword flew.
Three men fell.
And the figure turned—just enough for her to see.
A wink.
A familiar grin.
Hidden beneath a hood.
---
"You…" she breathed.
"Not now, darling," he murmured. "Let me finish being impressive."
---
He moved like a storm.
Spoke like a shadow.
And fought like he had nothing left to lose.
The battle turned.
The enemy buckled.
And by the time the nobles' dogs retreated, tails tucked and coin-bags empty—
Elara stood in silence.
Beside Cladus's barely breathing form.
And the man who once only smiled.
---
She looked at him.
"You're supposed to be gone."
"I was."
"You're supposed to be broken."
"I am."
"Then why did you come back?"
Auren looked down.
Then shrugged.
"Because someone had to save your Duke."
"And… because you still owe me a dance."