Alastor's heart raced like a thundering herd of horses, threatening to burst from his chest as he watched Cielle move gracefully across his dimly lit chamber. Her presence filled the room with an ethereal glow, casting shadows that danced along the walls like mischievous sprites.
He couldn't fathom why she had chosen to sneak into his room at such a late hour. After all, she was the princess, and he, a mere pet that they would use for war. Yet there she stood, her delicate features illuminated by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.
He still cannot believe that she has healed him, that she withholds healing Power inside that delicate body. She was unlike any Fae he had ever encountered—kind, compassionate, and seemingly unaffected by the prejudices that plagued their kind.
But even as gratitude swelled within him, Alastor couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that there was more to Cielle's actions than met the eye. After all, he had been raised to believe that Faes were nothing but cruel and cunning creatures, incapable of genuine kindness.
Yet here she was, defying his every expectation.
Alastor felt an undeniable pull—a magnetic force drawing him towards her like a moth to a flame. It was as if an invisible string tethered them together, binding their fates inextricably.
When she stood before him with that sheer cloth that does nothing to hide the arcs of her waist and the soft curve of her full breasts, Alastor had felt a spike of desire sprout in his inside.
The connection was so strong that it almost scared him.
As Cielle slipped out of Alastor's chamber, leaving behind a lingering scent of wildflowers and mystery, Alastor remained rooted to the spot, his mind awash with conflicting emotions.
The image of her graceful figure lingered in his mind, a tantalizing enigma that begged to be unraveled.
He climbed out of the bed, shaking away the thoughts of the princess. But she kept emerging in his mind after each beat.
Putting on a darkest robe that was hanging on his newest closet, Alastor slowly sneaks out of the chamber. His eyes flickering in all directions for any threat.
he made his way through the darkened corridors of the castle, the echo of his footsteps mingling with the whispers of the night.
Finally reaching the quarters where his fellow rebels congregated, Alastor found them gathered around a flickering fire, their faces illuminated by its warm glow. Their expressions were grim, their eyes reflecting the weight of their shared burden.
"Alastor, you're back," one of them exclaimed, rising from his seat to pull him into a hug "We were really worried about you! Are you alright?"
"I'm now, Zeus. But it didn't go as we planned." Alastor said, "I've had to take some brutal beatings."
Theo, a wyvern and the bestest of his friends, held him by his shoulders and looked out for any injuries, his face crumbling with confusion when he found none.
"But you look fine, Al." Theo mumbled.
"I do for a reason."
His eyes narrowed, "What reason?"
Alastor only offered him a smile as he took a seat by the fire, he recounted the events of the night—the brutal charge by the knights of High Fae Lord, his narrow escape from death's grasp, and the unexpected intervention of the princess herself.
His friends listened intently, their expressions shifting from disbelief to awe as Alastor spoke of Cielle's courage and compassion.
"But why would the princess risk her own safety to aid a mere pet they face no value for?" Kian, the youngest one of them questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Alastor shook his head, the memory of Cielle's piercing gaze burning brightly in his mind. "I cannot say for certain," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But there is something about her—a kindness, a warmth—that sets her apart from the others."
The group fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. For years, they had fought against the tyranny of the High Fae Lord, driven by a deep-seated desire for justice and freedom. But now, faced with the possibility of redemption in the form of a Fae princess, they found themselves grappling with a newfound sense of hope.
"We cannot trust her," Zeus, Theo's brother and the leader of their rebel group declared, breaking the silence with a note of defiance. "She is one of them—a Fae, sworn to uphold the very system we seek to overthrow."
Alastor nodded, understanding the skepticism that lingered in the air. After all, they had spent their lives fighting against the oppression of the Fae, their hearts hardened by years of struggle and strife.
"But what if she is different?" Alastor countered, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "What if she holds the key to unravel the secrets and the loopholes of this kingdom, once and for all?"
"No, Al." Zeus cut him off sharply, his green orbs flickering dangerously in the glow of candle light. "You seem smitten by that little trouble."
"No! I'm not! She healed me. That's why—"
"See? All your hatred toward her burns down to ashes just by that mere gesture. You think she is good and kind. Someone who could never hurt a soul. Oh, but how wrong you are." Zeus laughs, his words hanging heavily in the air. "Maybe that's exactly what she wanted. She wanted you to think she is kind unlike how she really is. My boy, open your eyes and sharpen your senses. We could not believe a single soul."