[Elwin's POV]
The crisp autumn air nips at my cheeks as Lydia and I make our way across the sprawling Starcrest campus. The towering spires of the academy loom above us, their gleaming surfaces catching the late afternoon sun and casting long shadows across the manicured lawns.
"I can't believe you're going on a date with an elf," Lydia says, her fiery hair whipping around her face in the brisk breeze. Her tone carries a hint of resistance, a subtle undercurrent of disapproval that I might have missed if I didn't know her so well.
I can hardly focus on Lydia's words, though, my mind still consumed by memories of the previous night. The stranger in black, her crimson eyes burning with passion, the feeling of her skin against mine. Her midnight hair flowing down her back like a waterfall. The silver button weighs heavily in my pocket, a tangible reminder that it wasn't just a vivid dream.
"Lydia, don't be racist. Elves are cool," I reply absentmindedly.
"I'm not racist! I support trees and stuff!" Lydia protests, her voice rising indignantly. A group of students lounging on a nearby bench look up at her outburst, their curious eyes following us as we pass.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Sure, sure," I mutter, my thoughts still far away. We approach the front of the café where I'm set to meet Saria, the ornate building's facade adorned with climbing vines and delicate floral arrangements.
"I gotta go," I say, turning to Lydia. Her brow furrows as she looks me over, her keen eyes catching something I've missed.
"You didn't even unpop this, you idiot," she chides, reaching out to adjust my collar. Her fingers work deftly, smoothing down the crisp fabric and straightening the lines of my shirt.
"Crap," I mutter, realizing how distracted I've been. The stranger the only thing on my mind this morning.
Lydia steps back, giving me a final once-over. "Alright, I'll catch you later," she says, a hint of concern in her hazel eyes.
"Have fun at dueling club," I reply, forcing a smile.
Her face lights up at the mention of the club, her earlier worry momentarily forgotten. "I will," she grins, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword. Then, almost as an afterthought, she adds, "Oh, by the way, it's being led by Diana."
I nod absently at Lydia's words, my mind already drifting back to the mysterious woman from last night. As I push open the heavy wooden door of the café, a gust of cool air washes over me, carrying with it the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee and the sweet scent of baked goods.
The interior of the café is a winter wonderland, a stark contrast to the autumn day outside. Delicate paper snowflakes dangle from the ceiling, catching the light and casting intricate shadows on the walls. The tables are draped in shimmering white cloths that sparkle like fresh snow, and tiny icicle lights twinkle along the edges of the windows.
'Why the fuck is this place winter themed?'
My eyes scan the room, searching for my date, when suddenly I spot her. Princess Saria stands out like a ray of sunshine in this frosty setting. Her golden hair cascades down her back in gentle waves, catching the light and seeming to glow from within. Her emerald eyes sparkle with warmth as they meet mine, and a radiant smile spreads across her face.
She rises gracefully from her seat, her movements fluid and elegant. Her dress, a stunning creation in shades of green and gold, rustles softly as she waves me over.
I make my way across the café, weaving between tables and nodding politely to other patrons. As I approach, I can't help but notice the way Saria's pointed ears twitch slightly.
"It's nice to meet you, Princess Saria," I say as I reach the table, offering a slight bow.
"Likewise, Prince Elwin," she replies, her voice melodic and warm. She gestures to the seat across from her, and I settle into the chair. "So, I hear you've met my brother."
A slight frown creases her brow as she speaks, creating a tiny furrow between her perfectly arched eyebrows. The expression is fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it appeared, but it's enough to betray her concern.
I can't help but smirk, remembering my encounter with the haughty elf prince. "Yes, I did," I reply, my tone light and playful.
Saria's frown deepens slightly, her emerald eyes clouding with worry. "He told me how... discourteous he was when he met you," she says, her voice carrying a note of genuine regret.
"I must apologize on behalf of our family," Saria continues. The sincerity in her eyes is almost palpable, a stark contrast to her brother's earlier arrogance. "I pray the Warbringers can see past his... aggression."
I wave my hand dismissively. "I don't really care, honestly," I say, my mind suddenly flooded with vivid memories from the night before.
The weight of her body on mine, the soft sighs that had escaped her lips...
Saria's voice cuts through my reverie. "He said you were looking for love. Is that true?"
I nod, my fingers absently tracing the rim of my teacup. "It is," I admit.
Saria leans forward, her emerald eyes searching mine. She reaches out and places her hand atop mine.
"Since you're such a special prince," she says, her voice lowered to a near-whisper, "you need to be really careful who finds that out." Her fingers tighten slightly on mine. "Every royal family would want a piece of your seed, and they'd do anything to accommodate you to get it."
Saria's touch sends a tingle through my skin, her fingers warm and soft against mine. The gentle caress of her thumb across my knuckles is soothing, almost hypnotic.
"I actually came on this blind date with you to see if we had chemistry." The words seem to hang in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. "But something happened last night."
Saria's eyebrows rise slightly, her ears twitching with curiosity. "Oh? What was it?"
"I fell in love," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. "With a girl with black hair and red eyes."
"I see," she says, her voice carefully neutral. The warmth in her eyes dims slightly, like sunlight obscured by a passing cloud. She withdraws her hand, leaving mine feeling strangely cold and empty.
"I don't know who she is, though," I add hastily.
Saria's ears perk up at this, a spark of interest rekindling in her emerald gaze. "Do you have any more information? How did you meet? Any defining features?"
I hesitate for a moment, my hand instinctively moving to my pocket. The weight of the silver button seems to grow heavier as if demanding to be revealed. With a deep breath, I pull it out and put it on the table for her to see.
Her eyes narrow slightly as she studies the button, her pointed ears twitching with concentration. Her slender fingers hover just above the surface as if she's afraid to touch it.
"Do you recognize it?" I ask.
Saria stares at it for a long moment, her brow furrowed in thought. Finally, she looks up, her emerald eyes meeting mine with a mix of curiosity and regret.
"No," she says, shaking her head slightly. "I'm afraid I don't recognize this crest."
I can't help the sigh of disappointment that escapes my lips.
"She also had really cut abs," A blush creeps up my neck as I recall the moonlit contours of the mysterious woman's body. "She was really fast and strong, too."
Saria's eyebrows rise slightly as if in worry about me. "How exactly did you meet this girl?"
The blush on my cheeks deepens, spreading to the tips of my ears. I can feel the heat radiating from my face. "Who's to say?" I mumble.
Saria leans back in her chair. For a moment, the only sound is the gentle tinkling of ice in glasses and the soft murmur of conversation from nearby tables.
"Elwin, I think I might know who you're talking about."
"Really?" I ask, unable to keep the hope from my voice. "Who is she?"
"There's only one girl I know who fits that description," Saria says slowly, each word carefully measured. "Strong, fast, striking red eyes, raven hair and... impressive abs."
I nod vigorously, my pulse quickening. "Yes, that sounds exactly like her! Who is she?"
Saria's ears droop slightly. "Well," she begins, her voice hesitant, "I can't introduce you myself, but... your sister Lydia is her best friend."
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really? Who is it?"
"Rolo Horseheart," Saria says, her emerald eyes searching my face for any sign of recognition.
I frown, racking my brain for any memory of that name. "Hmmm, that's weird," I mutter, more to myself than to Saria. "I've never heard of her before."
Saria tilts her head. "Do your sisters often introduce you to potential suitors?" she asks, her tone gentle but probing.
"I guess they wouldn't," I admit, a realization dawning on me. "They've always been pretty... protective."
Saria nods, a knowing look in her eyes. "Royal families often are," she says softly. "Especially with male heirs. They're... precious commodities."
I lean back in my chair, mulling over Saria's words.
"I guess I'll have to introduce myself," I say finally, my voice filled with determination.
Saria's frown deepens, creasing her flawless skin. "You know, you could tell Lydia and try to push the courting onto Rolo. A proper prince like you shouldn't approach a woman first, even if she is a princess like Rolo."
I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head. "Life is far too short to not grab it by the horns," I declare, my eyes sparkling with excitement.
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. Saria's emerald eyes widen slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in their depths. "Oh damn, probably not for you, though. How long is your life span?"
Saria's laughter fills the air. "We elves can live anywhere between two to three thousand years."
I blink, momentarily stunned by this revelation. The concept of such a vast lifespan is almost incomprehensible to my human mind.
"That's... that's a pretty big gap," I manage to stammer out, my voice tinged with awe and a hint of disbelief.
Saria shrugs gracefully. "It is what it is," she says simply as if discussing the weather rather than lifespans that span millennia.
"Are you..." I begin, then pause, searching for the right words. "Are you even capable of loving a human?"
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. Saria's expression softens, a hint of sadness creeping into her emerald eyes.
"Who knows," Saria says softly.
I'm about to respond when something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Turning my head, I spot a statue nestled in the corner of the winter-themed café. It's a black female Santa Claus, her jolly face beaming at the patrons as she holds a sack overflowing with presents.
My eyes go wide, and I feel my jaw drop. "Is that... Santa?" I ask, my voice filled with disbelief and a hint of childlike wonder.
Saria looks confused for a moment, following my gaze. Her delicate brow furrows as she spots the statue. "Uhh, yeah," she says, her tone suggesting this should be obvious. "The Elf Saint, Nicole."
I feel the anger of a thousand suns wash over me. My hands clench into fists on the table, causing the delicate china to rattle.
"So my family did lie to me about Christmas after all," I growl, my voice low and filled with betrayal.
Saria looks at me like I have three heads. "Elwin, what are you talking about?"