The days that followed were filled with routine—more of the same that Kaelen had experienced since he had arrived at the palace. He stood guard, watched over Lady Elara, and silently observed the court's endless games of power and manipulation. He had learned quickly that the palace was a far more dangerous battlefield than the ones he had left behind. Here, the weapons were words, not steel, and the enemies wore fine robes instead of armor.
But as the days turned into weeks, something unexpected began to stir within him. It wasn't the danger that Elara faced—it was her. The princess's quiet strength, her ability to navigate the intricacies of court life with ease, fascinated him. She was not the fragile, naive woman he had imagined. She was sharp, resilient, and, despite the luxuries of her life, more than capable of standing on her own.
And yet, she needed his protection.
Kaelen knew his place. He was a tool, a weapon, nothing more. But every time she looked at him with those eyes—eyes filled with curiosity, understanding, and, sometimes, something else—he felt as if he were something more. But he could not afford to entertain those thoughts.
One evening, as they sat in her chambers, a storm raged outside, the wind howling against the windows. Elara sat by the fire, a book in her lap, but her attention was elsewhere.
"Kaelen," she said, her voice breaking the silence, "tell me... Why do you fight?"
His gaze shifted toward her, but he did not answer right away. The question was simple, but the answer was anything but. He had fought for so long, for so many reasons, he didn't know where to begin.
"I fight because it is all I know," he said finally, his voice low.
Elara closed her book and looked at him, her eyes soft. "There must be more to you than that."
Kaelen's jaw tightened. She did not understand. No one did.
But as he looked at her, he realized that perhaps she was the first person to see something in him that he had long buried—something he wasn't ready to acknowledge.
The flickering flames cast long shadows across Lady Elara's chamber as the storm outside intensified, its winds rattling the windows. Kaelen's thoughts felt as tumultuous as the weather. He had never been asked such a personal question—never been forced to confront the truth of his own existence in such simple terms.
"I fight because it is all I know," he repeated, but this time the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He could feel the weight of Elara's gaze on him, a silent understanding in her eyes, as though she could see beyond the armor, beyond the warrior. She was different from the others. She was not afraid of him, nor did she seem to pity him.
"Is that all?" she asked softly, her voice a quiet challenge. "Is it really just about what you know? Or is there something you're not saying?"
Kaelen stiffened, his hands instinctively gripping the edge of his chair. He was used to the weight of a sword, the tension of a battle, but the weight of her question was something new. Something he had avoided for years. He had buried his emotions, buried his past, buried every part of himself that didn't serve the purpose of being a weapon. He had no place for softness, for vulnerability. It had been taken from him long ago.
"I'm not some poet or philosopher, Lady Elara," he replied, his voice a touch harsher than intended. "I fight to survive. I fight to protect those who need me."
Her eyes softened, the sharpness that had once defined her gaze replaced by a deep, thoughtful expression. "And who are you protecting, Kaelen? The kingdom? Or something... more?"
His chest tightened, and for a fleeting moment, he considered telling her the truth—the truth that he fought because he had nothing else. That his sword was the only thing that gave him a purpose. But those words would make him too vulnerable. Too human.
"I protect my duty," Kaelen said, his voice almost a whisper. "That's all I can protect."
Elara didn't respond immediately, but her gaze lingered on him, as though she was trying to understand the man who sat before her. The man who had seen so much death and destruction that he had become a living shadow of his former self. He had given everything to the battlefield, and it had taken everything from him in return.
A long silence stretched between them. The fire crackled, the storm raged outside, and yet in that moment, Kaelen felt more exposed than he ever had on any battlefield.
Elara shifted, her fingers gently tracing the edges of her book as if searching for the right words. "You speak of duty. But what if there's more than duty, Kaelen? What if there's a reason to fight that isn't just about survival?"
Kaelen turned his head toward her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting," she said slowly, "that perhaps you have more to fight for than just surviving, than just protecting others. Perhaps you have something to live for. Something beyond the duty you cling to."
Her words, though gentle, were like a blade cutting through the hardened layers of Kaelen's defenses. He didn't know how to respond.
He had long ago accepted that he was nothing more than a tool, a weapon forged to protect others, but she made it sound as though there might be something more to him. Something worth living for beyond duty, beyond war.
But he wasn't sure he could ever allow himself to believe that.
"Don't mistake me for a man with dreams, Lady Elara," Kaelen said, his voice low. "I've seen too much. I've lost too much. There's nothing left for me but the fight."
Elara studied him for a long moment, her gaze unwavering. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded. "Perhaps... but I think you're wrong, Kaelen."
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Kaelen was at a loss. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't understand why she would see something in him that he himself couldn't see. She was a princess—far removed from the brutal realities of war, far removed from the kind of man he was.
"You're kind to say that," he said quietly, his eyes finally leaving hers to glance out of the window at the storm. "But I don't think kindness is enough to change what I've become."
The days that followed felt like a haze, the same routine repeating itself over and over. Kaelen remained by Elara's side, always vigilant, always ready to act should danger arise. But it was not the danger outside that gnawed at him. It was the growing tension between them, the unspoken understanding that seemed to bloom in the silence of their shared moments.
Elara was unlike anyone Kaelen had ever known. She was intelligent, strong, and kind in a way that made him uncomfortable. He had spent so long burying his emotions, hiding his heart behind the walls of a warrior's armor, that her gentle words and steady presence felt foreign.
But it wasn't just her kindness. It was something more.
There were moments—small moments—when their eyes would meet, and Kaelen would feel something stirring within him, something he couldn't name. It was dangerous, and it terrified him. He had no place for emotions, no place for softness.
And yet, Elara had begun to crack the armor around his heart, piece by piece.
One evening, after dinner, she asked him to walk with her in the palace gardens. The night air was cool, the stars above barely visible through the thick clouds of the approaching storm. The garden was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of the leaves in the wind.
As they walked in silence, Elara finally spoke.
"Kaelen," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I need to ask you something."
Kaelen glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "What is it?"
"Why did you become a soldier?" she asked. "Was it by choice, or were you forced into it?"
The question was unexpected, and it struck Kaelen harder than he anticipated. He paused for a moment, considering her words. His past was not something he liked to revisit, but in her presence, he found himself opening up in ways he hadn't with anyone else.
"I wasn't given much of a choice," he said quietly. "My family was poor. I had no skills, no prospects. The king's army took me in. It was the only way to survive."
Elara looked at him with a quiet sadness in her eyes. "And now?"
"Now, it's all I know," he replied. "It's too late to change."
She stopped walking, turning to face him. "Kaelen... You are more than just a soldier. You have to believe that."
Kaelen opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. He wanted to deny it, to say that he had nothing left. But in the depths of her eyes, he saw something—something raw, something real.
For the first time in years, Kaelen wasn't sure he could ignore it.