The prince’s boots sank into the damp leaves, each step heavy and urgent. The fog clung to him like a half-remembered dream, slowing his advance—yet he dared not stop. Dared not hesitate.
She was here. In these woods. He could feel it.
"Your Highness!" A shadow guard pointed toward a faint silhouette in the distance—a wooden hut, half-hidden in the swirling mist.
The prince spurred his horse forward, dismounting in one swift motion. With a single kick, the door burst open—
And there she stood.
Pale as moonlight, her robes stained with blood, swaying like a reed in the wind. But alive. Here.
Their eyes met, and the fog itself seemed to crystallize between them, thick with unspoken words.
"You… how did you—?" Her voice trembled.
He was breathless, but all that came out was a raw, furious demand: "Are you out of your mind? Running here alone!"
She bit her lip, fingers tightening on the doorframe. Then—movement. The stranger by the fire rose, stepping between them with infuriating calm. "She needs rest," he said. "Lower your voice."
The prince’s gaze turned glacial. "Who. Are. You?"
No answer. Only the stranger’s hand, resting lightly against her shoulder—protecting her. The gesture sent a white-hot spike through the prince’s chest.
"Last chance," the prince hissed. "Hand her over, or—"
"Or what?" The stranger’s voice was quiet, but his eyes were blades.
The air between them sharpened, thick with the promise of violence.
And she—trapped in the middle, her face bloodless—felt the weight of the choice pressing down.
One side: the past she knew. The prince whose kisses had once stolen her fears.
The other: a stranger who had saved her life, yet carried secrets like shadows.
This reunion in the mist held no tears, no embrace—only the tension of drawn steel.
"Enough." Her voice was hoarse but clear. "I’ll… go with you."
The prince stilled, his fury dissolving into something unreadable. She released the stranger’s sleeve, stumbling forward—
The prince caught her before she could fall, but she didn’t lean into him. Only whispered, "Thank you… for saving me."
The words were for the stranger.
Without a glance back, the man turned away, retreating into the hut. The firelight flickered once more, casting his silhouette long and solitary against the walls.
And the prince—holding her at last—felt no triumph. Only the hollow ache of something returned, yet irrevocably changed.
The mist swallowed the hut behind them as they left.
But neither spoke of what had just passed.
Some silences are louder than words.
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