The door creaked open. Nia slipped inside, heart racing.
And then she saw him.
Her breath caught. "…oh gods…"
Elias lay across the bed, robe half open, silver hair scattered across the pillow like strands of moonlight. His collarbone glistened pale, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm, smooth legs stretched under the sheets. Too beautiful. Too vulnerable.
Her fingers twitched at her sides. How dare the world let him look like this? How dare anyone else get to see him?
She stepped closer, almost trembling.
Lea saw you smile today. The children cling to you like lifelines. Even that king looks at you like he'd chain you here if he could.
Her hand brushed over his face down to his neck , skin smooth, warm under her fingertips. She shuddered, biting her lip hard enough to sting.
But this—this belongs to me. This skin, this warmth, this body you don't even guard in sleep. Mine.
Her breath grew ragged as she leaned closer, lips hovering above his bare shoulder.
I could mark you now. Bite down. Leave proof. You'd wake and see me, only me. And no matter who else stares, no matter who else dreams—my mark would be there first.
Her nails grazed him lightly. "Elias… do you know what you do to me? Three years without you was hell. I painted you. I dreamed of you. I broke myself waiting. And now… you're here, glowing under the moon like some cruel temptation."
Her eyes darkened, possessive fire mixing with hunger.
"But if I touch more… if I take more… I'll lose you. And I'd rather die than let that happen."
With a strangled breath, she pulled back, trembling violently, clutching her chest. Her eyes devoured him one last time—the robe slipping off his shoulder, the flawless skin, the moonlight softening every perfect line of him.
"I'll wait," she whispered, voice shaking but firm. "But Elias—don't you dare let anyone else have what I've waited for. If they try, I'll tear them apart."
She turned, fleeing into the hallway before her control cracked for good.
Behind her, Elias slept peacefully—serene, untouchable, yet unknowingly binding hearts tighter with every breath he took.
---
The next morning:- In garden
The first rays of dawn slipped through the window when Elias stirred. His lashes fluttered, silver hair falling across his brow as he blinked awake.
Nia froze on the chair by his bedside, caught like a thief in the act. Her cheeks burned crimson.
"…forgive me," she blurted, voice too sharp, too fast. Then her lips pressed into a pout. "Tch—you make it impossible. Do you know how mad I am at you, Elias? Sleeping so peacefully while I…" She huffed, turning her head away.
Elias, still heavy with sleep, tilted his head at her. "Mad? At me? For sleeping?" His voice was soft, amused.
"Yes!" she snapped, then groaned, clutching her own hair. "Ugh, you don't get it."
Before he could answer, Nia spoke again, her voice laced with concern.
"Elias… you didn't sleep well, did you?"
His eyes narrowed faintly. "Why? You making fun of me now?"
Nia shook her head. "No. I thought… you looked troubled. Like the dreams were hurting you." Her eyes glinted darker, sharp with a protective edge.
Elias sighed, leaning back. "It's nothing. I don't even know why I suddenly dreamt of him again."
The weight of that unspoken "him" lingered in the room like a ghost.
Nia only nodded, lips pressed together. She moved closer, her hand brushing over his arm. "Then rest now. I'll keep them away. No shadows will touch you."
Elias smiled faintly at her—quiet, genuine. That smile always cut her open, because it was rare, and because he never knew how much it meant to her.
Her chest tightened. He doesn't understand. He doesn't know what he is to me.
---
Her mind wandered, pulled backward.
Nia's thoughts slipped deeper, memory sharpening like broken glass.
She had been thirteen when she first saw him on that rooftop, dusk painting the sky. Elias stood there, silver hair catching the dying light, his robe fluttering faintly in the wind. Not naïve, not sheltered—he already carried the weight of watching too much too soon. Yet he smiled, as if the world could not force him bitter.
"The world is so miserly," he had said, his voice calm, melodic. "It hoards kindness like a treasure when it costs nothing. That sting alone can turn people into monsters."
Then he turned, meeting her eyes with that angelic smile. "So I'll give it instead."
For her, who had grown up in silence, neglect, and betrayal, it was like sunlight breaking into a locked room. That was the moment she swore—Elias was hers. Her only miracle.
---
But miracles did not last.
Two years later, everything shattered.
Elias was fifteen when his parents died. That night, she found him collapsed in the courtyard, silver hair wet with cold rain, shoulders trembling. His eyes—those proud, unyielding eyes—were wide with fear for the first time.
He had whispered hoarsely, "I… don't know what's left. I don't know who I am without them."
Her chest had ached. She had knelt beside him, clutching his shaking hands. "You're Elias," she whispered fiercely. "That's enough. That's everything."
But fate had not finished.
Soon after, the kidnapping came. One moment he was with her, the next he was gone—dragged into the shadows by Thatan's hand. When she finally found him again, he was bloodied, trembling, and half-delirious. He swore the kidnapper was dead.
Memory surged like a tide.
The rain had not stopped that night.
Nia remembered it too well—the storm, the wild clatter of hooves, the whispers in the dark corridors that the Duke's son was gone. Her blood had frozen in her veins.