Rayan pushed the door open, the creak echoing like a sigh in the quiet night. Inside, the air hung heavy with the scent of fear and exhaustion—twenty-three souls huddled on makeshift pallets, their eyes wide and wary as he entered. Children, mostly, though some teetered on the edge of adulthood, their faces etched with the kind of weariness that no youth should bear.
He scanned the room, his heart twisting despite the old rage simmering in his veins. Humans had taken everything from him—his family, his peace—but these? These were innocents, caught in the web of cruelty he despised. The boys aged less than 10: sturdy dwarven lads, their stocky builds hinting at the craftsmanship that made their kin so prized; two young humans, barely out of toddlerhood, wide-eyed and clinging to each other—little Jack, no more than eight, and Tim, a fragile nine-year-old with haunted blue eyes. The girls dominated, fifteen in all, their gazes a mix of defiance and despair. Nine humans, like Sara with her tangled brown locks, or Mia, who whispered comforts to the younger ones; three bunnykin sisters—Lila, Suri, and Tali—their soft ears twitching nervously, tails tucked close; two beastkin, Kira and Vela, with faint stripes on their skin like shadows of wild ancestry. And then, the surprise that made Rayan's breath catch: a half-elf named Elara, her pointed ears subtly rounded, silver-streaked hair framing a face that mirrored his people's grace but carried human fragility.
His eyes lingered on Anna, an eighteen-year-old human with fierce green eyes, her arm protectively around Tim—her little brother, as she'd murmured to a guard earlier. They'd shared horrors, the scouts had said: a village razed, parents lost to slavers' blades. Rayan knelt before them and looked at them eye to eye, his voice soft, though his fists clenched at his sides. "You're safe here," he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "No one will harm you under this roof. As a prince, I give you my word. I'll even defy the queen to protect you." Anna met his gaze, her chin lifting in quiet strength, but Tim buried his face in her side, a sob escaping. *Damn the humans who did this,* Rayan thought, *but these... they're just kids, barely a century old in our reckoning.*
The door burst open before he could say more, startling the captives. Ivy strode in, her confident stride cutting through the tension like a blade. The combat-trained maid, with her striking blue eyes and brunette hair pulled into a tight braid, crossed her arms, her fitted tunic hugging her athletic form. "Prince Rayan! Why in the Great Tree's name didn't you take me on that raid? I could've handled those mages blindfolded—saved you the burns and the embarrassment." Her tone was half-scolding, but her eyes scanned him for injuries, a flicker of concern beneath the bravado. She then looked at those kids with pity in her eyes.
Rose followed close behind, her red hair cascading like autumn leaves, her herbalist's pouch slung over one shoulder. She was quieter, more mysterious, her gaze darting to Rayan with a subtle warmth. "Ivy, he's had enough ." She stepped closer, her fingers brushing his arm lightly, sending a unexpected spark through him. "Let me check you over, highness. I heard you got a fatal hit."
Rayan shook his head, waving them off gently. "I'm fine, Rose. Toha and other mages already treated me. But these ones..." He gestured to the captives, his voice firming with resolve. "Tend to them first. Heal their wounds, ease their fears with whatever remedies you have." Rose nodded, her expression softening as she knelt beside little Jack, murmuring soothing words.
Ivy said leaning against the doorframe. "As you wish, Your Highness. But don't think we're done talking about my skills going to waste." She paused, her grin turning smug. "Oh, and Princess Elena requests your presence. Immediately. She seemed... insistent."
Rayan didn't thought much. He needed some rest. He bid the captives a quiet farewell, promising to come in the morning, and slipped out into the cool night air scented with blooming nightflowers. The palace halls glowed with soft crystal light as he approached Elena's chambers, the door guarded by a lone maid who bowed and stepped aside, shutting it behind him with a soft click.
The room was bathed in warm candlelight, flames flickering like stars in the dimness. Elena lounged on the grand bed, her silver hair spilling over bare shoulders, clad in a black nightgown that clung to her curves like midnight silk—low-cut, teasing glimpses of skin that made Rayan's breath hitch. Her black eyes met his, wise and inviting, a subtle smile playing on her lips. The air hummed with unspoken tension, the scent of lavender oil mingling with the heat of the flames.
He crossed the room without a word, sitting close enough that their thighs brushed. Her hand found his, fingers intertwining, and before thought could intervene, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. She responded with equal fervor, her hands roaming his back, pulling him nearer. "Impatient tonight, my prince?" she teased against his mouth, her voice a husky whisper. "That battle must have stirred your blood—testosterone rising like a storm."
Rayan chuckled low, his hands sliding to her waist, feeling the warmth through the thin fabric. "Only GOd knows what magic you put on me?" She helped him shrug off his overcoat, her fingers deft on his white shirt's buttons, exposing his lean, muscular chest scarred from the day's fight. He pulled her onto his lap, the gown riding up as their bodies pressed together, heat building in waves. No words now—just the rhythm of breaths quickening, touches exploring with growing urgency. He claimed her then, their movements a dance of passion and release, her gasps echoing his own, tension coiling and shattering in a blaze that left them both breathless, tangled in sheets damp with sweat.
As they lay entwined afterward, Elena's head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin, Rayan stared at the canopy above. "I was a fool today," he murmured, the words spilling out like a confession. "Rushing in like that, nearly getting us all killed. If others hadn't arrived... I feel incompetent, Elena. Like a boy playing prince."
She propped herself up, her black eyes searching his. "You're young still, barely four hundred. Time is our ally—you'll grow into the leader we need." She kissed his forehead, her touch comforting. "I'll train you myself. Magic, strategy, whatever it takes. You're not alone in this."
"I dont know what will happen to those children."he said with hesitation. her voice pragmatic as always. "The dwarves could be sent home; our ties with their clans run deep. But the others...I know mother she'll find a solution for bunnykins and beastkins."her tone held duty's weight. "And the humans? I can't be sure about it. I just hope elders don't take impulsive decission. That half-elf, Elara—she intrigues me. Perhaps I should talk with her."
In the elders' chamber, Queen Maria paced before the glowing hearth, her regal bearing unbroken despite the late hour. Elders like Marcus leaned on carved staffs, their faces grim. "Was it coincidence, those slavers so near our borders?" Maria mused, her voice laced with venom. "Or a human ploy to test our defenses? Curse their greed. They slaughter and chain far worse than beasts."
Marcus nodded. "The slavers die at dawn; no mercy for such filth. As for those kids….The dwarven boys, send them back with gifts, strengthen our alliances. Bunnykin girls ….." He paused then looking at queen continued, "I hope Queen to take best decision for them." A murmur of agreement rippled through. "Humans, though... keep them captive here for a while and watch for treachery. We should treat children well since it's a teaching of our ancestors."
Though they harboured resentment they can't defy their ancestors. "The half-elf? Observe her closely—she carries our blood, tainted or not."
Queen said, "I respect elders decision. As for bunny kins, they rumoured to have high knowledge about reproduction. It might be valuable for us."
Rayan drifted toward sleep in Elena's arms, the day's tragedies fading into dreams. But elsewhere in the palace, his sister Lyra wandered the halls, her curiosity drawing her from her visit. "Where's that brother of mine?" she muttered, peeking into empty rooms. Turning a corner, she nearly collided with a small boy,Tim, the nine-year-old human boy, wide-eyed. He wanted to find the toilet but lost in the vast corridors. He froze, trembling as he find it difficult to hold his bladder. and Lyra's heart softened at the sight. "Hey there, little one," she said gently, looking eye to eye. "You look like you've seen a ghost. What's your name?"
The boy hesitated, he couldn't say that he's finding it dificult to hold pee. So, he ran away from her.