Alaric spent the rest of the afternoon meandering through the village in a daze. He was still reeling from his conversation with Rosalind, and though he'd told the truth, he couldn't shake off the guilt. He felt that he had broken something very valuable, something he'd probably never be able to put back together again.
Then with the sun having set right at the horizon, all shadows were long and it was then that Alaric found himself moving in the direction of the wood. It was quieter than anywhere else; away from all the watchful eyes in the village and the rest that reminded him so much of his war within.
He leaned on a great oak, took a deep breath, and looked up at the canopy of leaves swaying in the evening breeze. The stillness of the forest seemed a brief respite from the chaos swirling inside of him, however. It was short-lived. Thoughts turned back to Rosalind—tear-filled eyes, crack in her voice as she asked if it was about Eleanor.
And it was, in part, at least.
Alaric's heart was torn between the loyalty he had always felt towards Rosalind and the undeniable pull he now felt toward Eleanor. For so long, Rosalind had been his closest friend—her friendship a constant in his life. Yet now, his feelings towards her were changing, developing in ways he hadn't expected.
And then there was Eleanor.
Every moment spent with her seemed to awaken something new inside him. Her strength, her wit, the way she challenged him to think beyond himself—it stirred feelings he hadn't known he was capable of. But those feelings came with their own burden, a weight he was only beginning to understand.
Just as Alaric let his mind settle to darker depths, he could hear rustling behind. He spun on his heel, hand instinctively dropping to the hilt of his sword, to glimpse Eleanor emerging from behind trees, strides steady, the face quiet, yet a darkness beginning to build, unuttered.
"Thought I might find you here," she said in a voice soft but level, taking a step nearer him.
Alaric let go of his hold a bit, though it didn't entirely leave as the wonder of seeing her here left him wide-mouthed. "What do you know about being outside?" he asked gruffly, his voice heavy.
Eleanor shrugged halfly, glanced at the wood then up to him once again. "I reckon you might like some company. You looked like your shoulders felt the weight of the whole world on you this evening."
Alaric's laughter was dry, however, and little in it seemed like humor. "I suppose you could say that," he said.
Eleanor looked at him for a moment, her eyes studying him but not invasive. "Want to talk about it?"
Alaric hesitated. He'd already talked to Eleanor the night before about Rosalind, but now, with everything all finally culminating, he wasn't sure if he could possibly put it all into words.
"I spoke with Rosalind this morning," he said quietly, leaning back against the tree. "Told her the truth. That I don't believe I feel the same about her anymore."
Eleanor nodded, her face grave but unsurprised. "How did she take it?"
"Not so good," Alaric admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. "I think I broke her heart.".
Eleanor's eyes softened but did not give him any comforting assurances. Instead, she folded her arms across her chest and looked at him unwaveringly. "It was always going to hurt, no matter what you said to her. But you were honest, Alaric. More people wouldn't have been, and that's enough right there."
Alaric looked at her and felt his chest tightening again. "It doesn't make it feel any easier."
"No," Eleanor countered, her voice so soft that it was nearly imperceptible. "It doesn't.".
The two stood there in silence for a moment, the quiet of the forest wrapping around them like a blanket. Alaric felt a strange sense of comfort in Eleanor's presence, though it was tinged with the growing awareness of how much his feelings for her had complicated everything.
"I don't know what to do," Alaric finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I've ruined everything."
She shook her head, moving closer to him. "You haven't ruined anything, Alaric. You've only. changed things. And sometimes that's not always terrible."
Alaric thought on the ground in front of him, his head fuzzy. "It's like I'm losing them both. Rosalind is hurt, and then you—"
"Eleanor set a gentle hand across his arm. "You don't have to figure everything out tonight, Alaric.".
He looked up at her, surprised by the warmth in her voice. Eleanor was so often the one pushing him, challenging him to think ahead, to be decisive. But now, there was a softness to her, a quiet understanding that made him feel seen in a way he hadn't before.
"I just don't want to hurt anyone else," Alaric said, his voice cracking slightly.
Her expression shifted; a flicker of something deeper crossed her eyes. "You're not responsible for the feelings of everyone. You've carried too much on your shoulders for too long. It's okay to let go.".
Alaric swallowed hard; her words sank deep inside of him. He'd never realized how much he had spent his life doing things to please everyone-everyone but Rosalind, that was and his parents, but it felt like even himself lately. But with Eleanor it felt different. She did not ask for a single thing from him except truthfulness.
A heavy silence now lay between them, the unspoken tension forming a thick fog. The pull Alaric experienced toward Eleanor was impossible to ignore, a magnetism that seemed to grow in strength with every passing moment.
But before he had a chance to say any of the things he so desperately wanted to say to her, Eleanor took another step back, her normal calm returning to her countenance. "We'd better get going. It's getting late.".
Alaric nodded, though a part of him wanted only to be here with her and to freeze this moment and for once, everything seem plain and uncomplicated in brief time. "Yeah. You're right."
They turned and began walking back toward the village, a path they knew all too well, but one now filled with everything that had happened between them. Alaric couldn't help but steal glances at Eleanor as they walked, wondering if she felt the same pull that he did.
But Eleanor didn't crack, her footsteps steady, her eyes on ahead. Once they'd passed the outskirt of the village, she gave him the small smile, but not all the way up into her eyes.
"Be sure you take care, Alaric," she murmured, then walked back into the market square.
Alaric stood there and watched her go, his heart crumbling under the weight of everything unsaid. He had thought that speaking the truth to Rosalind would bring some sense of release, but it only heightened his inner turmoil. And now, with Eleanor, he was faced with new feelings he wasn't sure he was ready for.
As he strolled back to the inn, the evening air cooled against his skin, Alaric couldn't shake the feeling that his heart was at a crossroads. One path led him back to the familiar: to the comfort of what had always been. The other led into the unknown toward Eleanor and the growing connection between them.
But which path he would choose or whether he had the strength to choose at all was a question to which no answer existed.