Eryshae

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Vael

The sound came first. A tortured scream of metal ripping free from stone; so violent it seemed the earth itself might split open. Dust rained from the ceiling as hinges shrieked and a lock shattered like brittle bone.

Then; he stood there.

Sam.

But not the Sam the world knew.

Not even the Sam she knew.

He was still shaped like a man. Broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed. But bark wrapped his torso like living armor, dark as ancient oak, textured like veins carved into stone. His arms gleamed with a sheen of earthen bark, layered and ridged, flexing with inhuman strength. His fingers were thickened at the joints, his nails dark and clawed, like talons formed from twisted wood.

And his eyes; they glowed. Not with rage alone, but with a fierce, primal light. Green flames, bright and terrible, danced in his irises like ancient magic awakened. Like some old god had cracked open his chest and poured its fury into him.

She should have been afraid. Any sane person would've backed away, screamed, run. But she didn't. Because he was Sam. And every heartbeat told her so.

He tore the bars from her cell with a force that made the stones tremble, then crossed the threshold and gathered her into his arms as if she were the only thing anchoring him to the world.

His bark-covered hand curled around her back, cradling her. His breath hitched against her shoulder. And she felt it; not danger, not some beast set loose; but devotion. "Sam…" she whispered, hands sliding up his hardened shoulders, fingers brushing the grooves of bark like reading a secret language etched into his skin.

He trembled, not from fury now; but from restraint. From the weight of holding everything back. His voice came rough. Low. "I've got you." And she believed it.

There, surrounded by the ruins of iron and stone, Vael felt more protected than she ever had behind palace walls or beside armed guards. The fire in his eyes didn't scare her. It lit the hollow places inside her heart.

She leaned her forehead to his. "You're still you." He let out a breath. Bark shifted along his ribs, almost like it relaxed under her touch. The green light behind his eyes dimmed; only slightly.

But the storm was still there, caged just beneath the surface. And for the first time, she understood something deeper than words: This was the true shape of his love.

Not gentle.

Not tame.

But absolute.

Still wrapped in Sam's bark-covered arms, Vael rested her cheek against his chest. The ridges of his wooden skin were warm beneath her, alive in a way that no stone or armor could ever be. His heart still beat; steady, strong; beneath the layers of ancient bark and the storm he kept caged within himself.

Then;

Clack. Clack. Clack.

A nervous shuffle echoed down the corridor.

A guard appeared at the ruined threshold, spear trembling in his grip. He looked young. Fresh-faced. Ill-prepared to witness what waited beyond the busted iron and cracked stone.

His gaze landed on Sam and froze. Vines, thick and dark with pulse-like texture, slithered across the floor around Vael. They curled around her like protective tendrils, and then; thorns erupted from them, wicked and sharp, glinting green in the torchlight.

The guard took a hesitant step back. Vael didn't move from the sanctuary of Sam's arms. But her voice rang through the ruined cell like a blade sliding from a sheath:

"This farce has gone on long enough."

She lifted her chin, and the thorns shifted with her. "My name is Princess Vael Eryshae, daughter of Chief Corven Eryshae. This is Vice-Chief Sam, my fiancé. I demand that Vice-Chief Farouq come at once."

Her words struck the air like a storm bell, final and resonant. The guard's spear shook visibly now. His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again; but no sound came out.

Sam slowly lifted his head, his eyes still glowing with that unnatural, ancient green flame. His gaze landed on the trembling guard, and in that heartbeat.

The boy bolted. Boots pounded stone as he fled. Vael exhaled softly and curled in closer to Sam. The thorns retracted, folding away like the petals of a closing bloom. The vines shifted, still protective, but now supporting her weight with gentle coils so that she nestled comfortably in his embrace.

Sam's chest rose with a slow, grounding breath. His bark-covered hand rested along her spine, and she felt him rein it all back in; just enough. "You're alright," Vael whispered to him, brushing her hand along his cheek where flesh and bark met. "You didn't lose yourself." His lips pulled into the ghost of a smile. "You always say that like I might."

"Because I know you won't," she said, confident. "You'd never hurt me." Sam let out a sound between a sigh and a quiet laugh. "Thank you." A pause.

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Then he added, dryly, "At the very least, I didn't slaughter the entire restaurant." Vael smiled into his shoulder. "Small victories."

The cell was quiet again, save for the soft rustle of vines as they settled and the faint, steady breathing of the two nestled inside. Sam held her close, his wooden arms no less tender than flesh. The faint green fire in his eyes had dulled to embers, but it still flickered when the light caught him just right; reminders of the storm he kept chained just beneath the surface.

Vael reached up and brushed her fingers along the side of his face, along the curved ridge of bark that had grown like armor over his temple. "You scare me sometimes," she admitted, voice barely above a breath.

His expression didn't change; but something in his chest tightened beneath her touch. She smiled gently, not pulling away. "Not of you. For you." Sam closed his eyes. "I was ready to burn the city down."

"I know," she whispered. She leaned her forehead against his. "I love you," she said again, firmer this time. "Whatever storm's inside you, I'm not afraid. Because you're still you. And you're mine."

Before he could answer, the sound of rushed footsteps echoed down the corridor; several sets this time. Armor clinked. Voices murmured and parted. And then a voice rose above them all.

"By the moon above, what the hell happened here?"

Vice-Chief Farouq came to a sudden stop in front of the ruined cell, flanked by two senior guards.

He was a man of calm poise, wearing ceremonial leather armor with the Eryshae crest stitched into his shoulder. His face was contorted in disbelief. His eyes swept from the bent metal, to the shattered hinges, then to Sam; part-man, part-bark; with Vael curled gently in his arms, and the vines still faintly moving across the floor like lazy serpents.

"…Princess Vael?" he asked carefully. "Vice-Chief Sam?" Vael nodded. "Uncle." That single word changed everything in the air.

Farouq blinked. "Gods. I received word that… that two strangers had been arrested for disturbing the peace." His eyes darted back to the twisted iron. "No one mentioned this." Vael stood slowly, letting the vines retract. Sam moved beside her, protective still, but no longer wild. Farouq stepped forward, arms raised in a calming gesture. "I need someone to explain what happened. Why were you taken in? And… how did the doors come off?"

"They tried to arrest me," Vael said calmly. "And Mira. Over a misunderstanding in the market. The guards were… overzealous." Sam's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Farouq nodded slowly, piecing it together. "And your fiancé decided to respond like a god of vengeance." Sam finally spoke, voice rough but steady. "They grabbed her. And they wouldn't listen."

Farouq exhaled deeply. "It's Emberhold, not a battlefield. We don't arrest princesses here. Especially not ones with blood claim to the Tribe." His tone softened as he turned to Vael. "You should've summoned me sooner."

"I wanted to handle it quietly," Vael said. "But the guards had other plans." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And now I have a dozen terrified watchmen who think a forest god just burst out of a cell," Farouq muttered.

"I'll clean this up," he said. "You're free to go. Both of you. I'll see to it personally." Then, glancing between them once more, he added with a faint smile, "But maybe… avoid the marketplace for a day or two, yes?"

Vael laughed under her breath. Sam gave a silent nod of gratitude. Farouq turned to the guards and barked orders to bring fresh clothing, water, and someone to clear the mess.

As the others busied themselves, he stepped closer to Vael, lowering his voice. "Next time, niece… just send word. You don't have to fight every battle on your own." Vael gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Uncle."

Vael watched as the tension finally began to melt from Sam's body. It started with his shoulders, lowering ever so slightly as if an invisible weight had eased its grip. The bark that covered his arms and chest softened, darkened, and then cracked away in slow, curling pieces; revealing flesh beneath, warm and whole.

The vines that had once circled her waist and legs retreated as though they'd never been there at all, slithering back into him with a subtle hiss. The faint green fire glowing in Sam's eyes flickered once; then dimmed, retreating into the depths behind his pupils.

He looked at her then. Truly looked. And she saw the man beneath the storm. She squeezed his hand.

A rusted hinge creaked across the room as one of the guards; wide-eyed and still pale; nervously approached the adjacent cell. With trembling fingers, he unlocked the iron gate and swung it open to reveal Mira, sitting on the stone bench, hands in her lap.

She looked up slowly. Her tough expression faltered for only a breath, revealing something raw; a flicker of fear, barely masked.

"Mira," Vael called gently. The girl's gaze snapped to her. Vael stepped forward, graceful and composed despite the chaos still crackling in the air. "Do you still want the job?"

Mira blinked. Then, slowly, her posture straightened. The fear didn't vanish entirely; but it was joined by something else: resolve. She lifted her chin and said, "Yes, Princess."

Sam gave a quiet grunt of approval, and the corner of his mouth twitched; not quite a smile, but close. Together, the three of them stepped out into the corridor.

Farouq gave one last series of sharp commands to the guards; who, grateful for direction, scattered with the eagerness of men desperate to flee responsibility. Then he gave Sam a respectful nod and Vael a parting bow.

"I'll have your quarters aired and guards reassigned," he said. "Privately vetted this time." Vael touched his arm in thanks. "You've always been good to me."

"Eryshae always comes first," he said softly. "Even when it walks into my cells." They stepped back out onto the quiet stone street. The sun had fully crested the horizon now, spilling golden light across the rooftops of Emberhold. The distant call of gulls echoed from the river. Shops were reopening. Life went on.

Vael walked between Sam and Mira. Sam kept a hand lightly resting at the small of her back, fingers tracing idle, silent patterns. Mira followed close behind, her eyes constantly scanning, cautious but no longer scared.

As they walked toward their quarters, Vael cast a glance sideways; first at Sam, then at Mira; and felt, for the first time in what felt like years, that something was aligning. They weren't just surviving anymore. They were choosing. And she would see where that choice led.

Together.

Their footsteps echoed softly along the cobbled path, the sun trailing behind them like a quiet witness. Vael kept close to Sam, her hand brushing his knuckles now and then, a silent reassurance exchanged with every touch. Mira followed half a step behind, still glancing at every passing guard, though less like prey… and more like someone learning to breathe again.

They reached their quarters just as a pair of housekeepers bowed and opened the doors wide. Sam ushered Vael in first, then Mira.

Inside, the stillness felt like a balm. No accusations. No threats. Just the low crackle of a hearth, and the scent of jasmine tea waiting on the sideboard.

Vael paused, her fingers still in Sam's, and turned to Mira. "You can rest here tonight," she said gently. "We'll have a room prepared, clothes brought, and anything else you need. You're safe now."

Mira hesitated; then bowed low, the motion sharp and sincere. "Thank you, Princess." Vael smiled softly but didn't correct her. Mira's gaze shifted to Sam, her voice a touch quieter. "And thank you, Sir… for protecting us."

Sam gave a small nod. "Just stay close to Vael," he said. "You'll be safe." Mira nodded once more. "I will, Sir." Vael looked at Sam, her expression tender and tired all at once. "You held back," she murmured. "You didn't have to. But you did."

"I held on," he replied. "To you." He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering at her cheek. "You steadied me." She leaned into the touch. "You make me brave," she whispered.

He gave the faintest smile. And for a moment, the chaos of the morning, the broken metal and shattered control, faded into something smaller… something sacred. Tomorrow would bring new dangers. But tonight, they were safe.