The streets in Brackenwood lay silent about the events that transpired in the council chamber. The west sun had already set, leaving a painting of orange warmth within the sky. Alaric walked alongside the kind Rosalind and gentle Eleanor, but his thoughts are far from serenity.
His arm still clasped in hers, Rosalind's soft voice filled the silence between them as she explained to him just now all of this day's events, as with relief. "I can hardly believe it is all over. We really did it. Bramwell is gone.".
She walked a few steps ahead, the normally sure gait now carrying her forward, though she glanced back at them from time to time. Now, Eleanor walked with an easy step as if something had been lifted off her shoulders, but Alaric felt a tension build inside him. He couldn't help but think of Eleanor—the way she had stood her ground and her sharp mind and bravery.
"Yes," Alaric agreed absently, but his eyes kept drifting to Eleanor, and it was growing increasingly difficult to ignore the way his heart pulled toward her.
The sound of Rosalind's voice sent him back to the present. "You were fabulous in there, Alaric. I don't know what I would have done without you at my side." Her words were warm with emotion, and she wasn't helping with misinterpretation of the depth of her love for him. She looked up at him from adoring, wide eyes, her trust in him absolute.
Alaric's chest tightened. Rosalind had been there for everything. She was his best friend as long as he could remember. Even though he loved her and cared about her, something inside of him had changed, and he didn't know how to explain.
"I couldn't have done it without you either," he said, but the words tasted like lead in his mouth. He didn't want to hurt Rosalind; she had been so good to him, given up so much, and he knew that the longer it went on, the more impossible it was going to be to keep pretending that his feelings hadn't changed.
Eleanor turned to face them with a thoughtful expression, having nearly reached the edge of the village. "I am going to the eastern watchtower," she said. "I've promised some of the council's guards to meet them there. We cannot let Bramwell's followers regroup again.".
"I'll come with you," Alaric said hastily, almost without thought. There was something about her that drew him to her, and every excuse to spend more time with Eleanor was a good one-even if it would be just to stand watch in this forsaken tower.
Eleanor raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "You sure? It's not the most exciting way to end the day."
"I don't mind," Alaric said, shrugging. "I could use a distraction.".
She glanced between them, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. "I thought we'd go back to the inn together. It's been a long day." Her voice quavered a little, and he felt pangs of guilt. She had been looking forward to some time alone with him, he could tell.
He sat there for a moment, not moving; the weight of the decision was crushing him. He did not want to leave Rosalind, but he had grown so much more attached to Eleanor in this much shorter period of time.
Eleanor broke the silence. "Rosalind's right. You've had an extremely long day. If you are tired, you don't have to come."
"No, it's all right," Alaric insisted perhaps a little too quickly. "I'll help.".
Rosalind's smile wavered, but she didn't protest. Rather, she nodded slightly, her eyes not rising quite to his. "I see. You will catch up with me later, then?".
Meanwhile, Eleanor and Alaric stepped out toward the watchtower; Rosalind watched them go, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. She trusted Alaric, but something in the air had shifted, and it gnawed at her heart.
---
The way to the eastern watchtower was bathed in the orange glow of the sunset, and for a moment, the world just stood still. Alaric walked beside Eleanor, silent and comfortable, the rustling of leaves sweeping by on the breeze.
"You didn't have to come," Eleanor said after a time, a jerk of her head in his direction. "I can handle things on my own.".
"I do," Alaric replied, his voice soft. "I wanted to,"
Eleanor turned her head and cast him a sidelong look; unreadable to the rest of the world, but not to Alaric. "You've been acting different lately," she noted casually, yet curiously. "Like there's something on your mind".
Alaric hesitated. She wasn't wrong. There was indeed something on his mind—*someone*—and it was becoming harder and harder by the day to keep it to himself. He didn't know if now was the time, but with each passing moment with Eleanor, it all felt like slipping through his fingers.
"It's nothing," he said, the words feeling hollow. "Just. a lot to think about.".
Eleanor didn't question him further, but the silence that hung in between them became thickest. The watchtower loomed there, its stone walls throwing long shadows into the ground. As they approached Eleanor shifted gears, she refocused on the task at hand.
"The guards said they have seen some of Bramwell's men near the outskirts of the town, so we need to make sure they aren't planning something.".
Alaric nodded, though he didn't begin to untangle the knots of his mind. As they stood there checking the perimeter, the shadow of fading day would color the world around them with softer edges, and once again Alaric could not help but see Eleanor.
It was moments like these that he viewed her differently, not just as a colleague in their antics but as someone who challenged him, inspired him. She had such acid-tipped sarcasm and a drive to things that lured him in more and more.
"You're a good leader," Alaric said suddenly, words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You don't let anything shake you.".
She peered at him, quizzically, her face turned full around. "Coming from you, that means something. You're not too bad yourself, you know."
They hung there for a moment, the space between them charged with something unsaid. Alaric felt a sense of wanting to say more, to tell her everything that had built inside, but the weight of Rosalind's feelings, of their history together, kept him there.
Instead, he smiled, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. "Thanks," he said. "I mean it."
Eleanor's eyes lingered on him as if she could see beyond the walls he was trying to construct around his emotions. Still, she didn't push. Instead, she nodded slightly and turned back toward the watchtower.
As he walked back into patrol, Alaric couldn't help but wonder how much longer he could keep his feelings locked away. The longer he spent with Eleanor the more complex things had grown. In another respect, Rosalind's feeling toward him deepened day by day, and the emotional threads that bound them together knotted in a rope he was soon helpless to untie.