Elaine hadn't expected her first visit to Aeloria to leave such a lasting impression, but as soon as she stepped foot in the kingdom's grand hall, her eyes caught sight of Lord Rowan. There was something about him that stirred an unusual sense of familiarity within her, a pull she couldn't quite explain. Their eyes met for a brief moment across the room during the meeting, and the world seemed to fade away. His gaze was piercing, yet calm, and she felt as though he could see into the depths of her soul.
But just as quickly as the moment had begun, it ended. She had to focus. There were plans to discuss, strategies to finalize, and conversations to be had with her team. Still, that fleeting eye contact lingered in her mind as she tried to shake off the feeling of being drawn to the stoic ruler.
It was nearing noon when Elaine found herself walking alone through the corridors of Aeloria. The sunbathed the stone walls in warm light, casting intricate shadows that danced with every step she took. She had been restless after the meeting, her mind swirling with thoughts of Rowan and the strange connection she couldn't quite place.
Her stroll led her to an open courtyard where the sounds of steel clashing against steel filled the air. From a distance, she noticed Rowan in the midst of his knights, engaged in rigorous sword training. He was swift, calculated, and his form was impeccable. Each movement seemed as natural as breathing, as though the sword were an extension of himself.
Elaine stopped at the edge of the field, folding her arms across her chest as she watched in silent admiration. Her lips parted in a small gasp when he deflected a strike with the ease of a master, spinning on his heels and landing a swift blow that sent his opponent stumbling back. She marveled at the precision, the sheer power behind every motion. It was captivating.
Without realizing it, her face went through a series of expressions—her eyebrows raised, her mouth slightly agape as she witnessed his incredible skill. A flash of realization hit her: she was staring, and quite openly at that.
Just as she shifted her weight, preparing to quietly leave before he noticed, Rowan's sharp eyes flicked toward her. Their eyes met again, this time in the midst of his training. A playful smirk curled at the corner of Elaine's lips as she tried to ease the tension. She giggled softly and raised her chin, offering him a small, knowing nod in acknowledgment.
Rowan wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his intense focus momentarily broken by her presence. Still catching his breath, he sheathed his sword and approached her, his gaze never leaving hers.
"You've been practicing since morning, aren't you tired?" Elaine asked, her voice light but tinged with genuine curiosity. "My apologies if I sounded rude, a bit nosy and probably negative to you. But if I could be honest here, I've never seen someone with the same amount of stamina as yours—remarkable, truly."
Rowan paused, surprised by her directness. A faint smile ghosted across his lips. "Tiredness is part of the training," he replied, his voice deep, yet surprisingly warm. "But I suppose I should take your concern as a compliment."
Elaine chuckled, letting her arms drop to her sides. "It is a compliment. I'm amazed, really. I've seen many knights practice, but nothing quite like this. You're relentless."
"Relentlessness can be a strength or a weakness, depending on how it's used," Rowan said, his eyes narrowing slightly as if testing the weight of his own words. "But you seem to have a keen eye. Tell me, have you ever trained with a sword yourself?"
Elaine's grin widened as she raised an eyebrow. "I've held a sword, yes. Though if you're asking if I've ever trained like that—" she gestured toward the practice field, "the answer is a definitive no."
Rowan studied her for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. "Perhaps you'd like to try."
Her eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the offer. "Are you suggesting that I spar with you?" She glanced at the field, where his knights were still panting from their previous bout with him.
Rowan chuckled softly. "Not quite sparring. But if you're interested, I could show you a few basics. If nothing else, it might prove useful on your journey."
Elaine hesitated, then shrugged, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "Why not? I could always use a new skill."
The next hour passed in a blur of instruction and laughter. Rowan demonstrated various stances and techniques, guiding her hands with patient care. Elaine, surprisingly nimble for her lack of experience, picked up on his teachings quickly. At times, she fumbled, and the sword would slip from her grasp, or her stance would falter, but each mistake was met with a steady correction from Rowan.
"You're a fast learner," Rowan noted, his tone less formal than usual.
Elaine smiled, wiping sweat from her forehead. "Well, it helps when the teacher is as good as you."
As the session went on, she found herself stealing glances at him more often than not. There was something about the way he moved, the quiet intensity that lingered beneath his calm exterior. It made her heart race in a way she hadn't expected. But there was also a sadness to him, a weight that he seemed to carry, hidden behind his stoic demeanor.
At one point, when Rowan corrected her grip on the sword, their hands brushed together, and Elaine felt a strange warmth spread through her. For a moment, it was as if time had slowed, and she could feel the connection between them intensify.
"Elaine," Rowan began, his voice quieter now, more personal. "You remind me of someone I once knew."
Elaine tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Someone important?"
Rowan nodded; his gaze distant. "Yes. She was... everything to me. But she disappeared many years ago. I've searched for her ever since."
Elaine felt a pang of sympathy for him. She could hear the sorrow in his voice, the weight of loss that he still carried. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I can't imagine what that must be like."
Rowan's eyes met hers again, and for a brief moment, there was something raw and unguarded in his expression. "It's strange," he admitted, "but you remind me of her in ways I can't explain. There's something about you... your presence."
Elaine blinked, taken aback by the admission. "I remind you of her?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rowan nodded. "Yes. And I don't know why. But it's a feeling I can't ignore."
The weight of his words settled between them, heavy and uncertain. Elaine didn't know what to say, but the connection she felt with Rowan only deepened. It was as if their fates were intertwined in ways neither of them fully understood yet.
Elaine and Rowan strolled along the quiet path behind the castle, the sound of the small river that ran alongside them adding a soft melody to their steps. The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the grassy banks, and the air was cool, a gentle breeze brushing past them. It was a peaceful moment, one that allowed them to drop the weight of their titles and responsibilities.
Elaine glanced up at Rowan, who had grown more relaxed since their earlier sword training session. There was something different about him now, as if the stern ruler had let down his guard, if only a little.
"So," Elaine began, breaking the comfortable silence between them, "you mentioned someone earlier... someone you cared about."
Rowan's expression shifted slightly, a shadow of something deeper crossing his face. "Yes," he said quietly. "My fiancée."
Elaine nodded, her face softening with empathy. She didn't press him further, allowing him to speak at his own pace. She could already imagine how hard it must have been to lose someone dear to him, especially in the blink of an eye.
Rowan continued, his voice a little quieter. "She disappeared without a trace. One moment she was there, and the next... gone. I've spent years searching for her, hoping that maybe... just maybe... I'd find some clue to what happened."
Elaine felt her heart ache for him. Losing someone you loved like that, without answers, without closure—it was unimaginable. She walked a little closer to him, her shoulder brushing against his, offering silent comfort.
"I'm so sorry, Rowan," she said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "I can't even imagine how painful that must have been. To not know what happened... it's cruel."
Rowan glanced at her, his usual stoic expression softer than she had ever seen. "It was. Still is."
They continued walking in silence for a while, the river gurgling quietly beside them, before Rowan gestured to a smooth patch of grass by the water's edge.
"Shall we sit for a moment?" he asked.
Elaine smiled and nodded. They both sat down by the riverbank, slipping off their shoes and dipping their legs into the cool water. The sensation was refreshing, and Elaine let out a soft laugh as the water sent a pleasant chill up her spine.
"This is nice," she remarked, her laughter lightening the mood between them. "I can see why you like this spot."
Rowan smiled faintly, watching her as she wiggled her toes in the water. "It's quiet. I come here when I need to think."
Elaine leaned back on her hands, looking out over the sparkling river. The peace of the moment wrapped around her, and without thinking, she found herself sharing something deeply personal.
"You know," she began, her voice light, "I was found by a river too."
Rowan turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh, yes that story. I've heard of it a little from the knights."
"Yeah," Elaine continued with a small smile. "The people from Hopewell told me the story many times. They found me floating down the river in a small wicker basket. The children were the first to see me—they said I was just there, drifting peacefully along as if the water had carried me to them."
Rowan's eyes widened slightly. "In a basket, right?"
Elaine nodded, her smile growing. "Yes. A wicker basket with tulips engraved on the sides. That's actually how I got my name. They named me after the flowers on the basket, and because they didn't know where I came from, they just assumed the river brought me to them."
Rowan chuckled softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "That sounds like something from a fairytale."
"It does, doesn't it?" Elaine laughed. "But it's true. They always joked that I could've easily floated out to sea if the current had been any different. It's funny to think about—the what-ifs, you know? What if I had drifted in the wrong direction? I might have never made it to Hopewell at all. I could've ended up in some completely different place, or maybe I wouldn't have survived at all."
Rowan's laughter joined hers, the two of them finding humor in the absurdity of it all. "And yet, here you are. Fate must have had other plans."
"Seems so," Elaine agreed, still smiling as she dipped her fingers into the water and flicked a few droplets toward him. "I owe my life to that river, in a way."
Rowan glanced at her with a more serious expression now, his voice thoughtful. "Perhaps the river wasn't just a coincidence. Maybe it was always meant to bring you to where you needed to be."
Elaine met his gaze, their laughter fading into something quieter, more intimate. The way Rowan spoke, the sincerity in his tone, made her heart skip a beat. She realized then how much they had in common—the sense of loss, the feeling of being swept along by forces beyond their control. But there was something else, too, a connection that seemed to grow stronger with every word they shared.
They sat by the river for what felt like hours, talking about their pasts, their lives, and everything in between. For the first time in a long while, Elaine felt completely at ease.