Forbidden Desires: Conquering Kingdoms And Women In a Fantasy World!

Two days. That was all the time Isadora had given me—two days to prepare for my journey to Erestia's capital, two days to say goodbye to everything I'd ever known.

And now two days had gone.

I stood in my room, surrounded by the scattered remnants of my packing preparations. My large leather backpack lay open on the bed with everything I deemed worthy to take inside. The rest would remain here.

The practical preparations had been the easy part. I'd gathered my traveling clothes, sturdy boots that could handle the long roads ahead, a coil of rope that might prove useful in ways I couldn't yet imagine, a well-balanced knife, and several small vials of sleeping concoctions. When I'd laid them out together, I'd chuckled darkly at how suspicious the collection appeared—like the kit of some traveling cutthroat rather than a young man seeking his fortune in the capital.

The healing concoctions sat in their own carefully wrapped bundle. Despite having inherited Isabella's powerful healing magic—a gift so rare that some would indeed kill to possess someone like me—I'd learned never to rely solely on one's abilities. Magic could fail, circumstances could overwhelm even the most talented healer, and in the capital, discretion might prove more valuable than power.

My single book on Ice Magic rested atop my clothes, its worn leather cover a testament to countless hours of study. For two years I'd struggled with this particular school of magic, hampered by the lack of anyone in our village who could demonstrate its intricacies. My assimilation power worked far better when I could observe magic being performed, when I could watch the subtle movements, the flow of energy, the precise mental focus required. Reading about it was like trying to learn to dance by studying anatomical diagrams.

My bow and quiver occupied one side of the pack and the spear Henrik had made for me was also already tucked as well.

Hidden at the very bottom of the pack, nestled between layers of clothing where prying eyes would never find it, lay my blue mask.

But for all my meticulous preparations, there remained one farewell I hadn't been able to accomplish.

Isabella.

For two days, she had been like a ghost haunting our small home. She barely emerged from her room, declined meals with mumbled excuses, and when she did appear, her eyes held a pain that cut deeper than any blade.

She refused to speak to me. Every attempt I made to approach her door was met with silence, and the few times I'd caught glimpses of her moving through the house, she'd avoided my gaze as if looking at me caused her physical pain.

I understood her anger, even if it wounded me. Learning about Rosaluna and me, about the relationship we'd built in secret, had shattered something inside her—not just her trust, but perhaps her image of the boy she'd raised.

But she would and could never hate me, rather currently she was hating only herself actually. She was not blaming me but blaming only herself.

And I knew her love for me hadn't diminished in the slightest rather the forbidden love had showed great progress even since the revelation and that despite herself.

Heart Weaver was truly a frightening Magic.

Rosaluna had taken a different approach entirely. Where I had chosen to give Isabella space purposefully and raise guilt within her and also understand her own emotions toward me, Rosaluna had launched into what could only be described as a campaign. She spent hours outside Isabella's door, speaking in low, urgent tones about our relationship, trying to explain, to justify, to somehow make Isabella understand that what we shared wasn't wrong.

And each time, the sound of the door slamming would echo through the house like a thunderclap, followed by Rosaluna's footsteps retreating to the living room. When she'd emerged into the living room room, her face had been flushed with frustration and unshed tears, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Even though I told her to give some space to mom Rosaluna refused, the main reason being me leaving soon. She wanted to mend and get this matter done before I left because I couldn't tell when I would come back.

By the way my departure would be quite hard for both of them.

Isabella needed my night treatments to keep her nightmares at bay. Without me, those terrors would return, and while I'd asked Rosaluna to care for her in my absence, I wasn't certain it would be enough.

And Rosaluna herself would struggle with her own nightmares.

I made them fortunately or not addict to my touch and pleasure. And now they will have to deal with nightmares without me.

But I had to leave nonetheless.

I had a lot of things to do and among them was to get answers about my family, about the father I'd never known, about the events that had driven Isabella from nobility to this remote village where she'd raised us. The questions had multiplied over the years, but Isabella's lips had remained sealed whenever I'd asked about our origins.

Why had a noblewoman fled to obscurity? What had driven her from courts and councils to a simple healer's life in a village most maps forgot to mention? And what role had my father played in that story? Clearly not a good one.

"That should be all," I muttered to myself, surveying my packed belongings one final time. Everything I deemed essential for the journey ahead was secured in the sturdy backpack, leaving behind only the life I'd known and the people who'd shaped me.

I'd dressed for travel in the practical clothes of a well-to-do commoner: a sturdy coat that would turn aside rain and wind, a simple shirt that wouldn't mark me as either peasant or noble, breeches that would survive long hours in the saddle, and boots that Henrik had declared "suitable for whatever road you find yourself walking." The clothes spoke of modest prosperity without advertising wealth that might attract unwanted attention.

Standing before the small mirror that had reflected my face through countless mornings, I studied the young man looking back at me.

I was truly very handsome.

Even more than in my past life which was quite impressive.

The soft creak of my door interrupted my reflection. I turned to see Rosaluna entering.

"Are you ready?" Rosaluna asked. There was sadness there, certainly, but beneath it lay something that resembled... acceptance? Perhaps even a quiet resolve that surprised me. Had she truly made peace with my departure in these final hours?

I adjusted the straps of my pack one last time. "Yes, I am. Is mom awake?"

Isadora would be arriving soon with the carriage she'd arranged, along with the men who would escort us to the capital. There, her mysterious connections would help secure my place in the entrance examination for the Erestia Royal Academy—an opportunity that still felt too extraordinary to be real.

Rosaluna's face fell, and she crossed her arms defensively. "No... I tried calling to her again, but she didn't answer." Frustration leaked into her voice, sharp and bitter. "She's still locked away in there, pretending we don't exist."

Rosaluna could hardly understand why Isabella's reaction was this strong but I knew it that was why I was so patient about it but I had to show my lovely sister some performance.

"It's understandable... and it's my fault."

"It's not!" The words exploded from Rosaluna. Her pink eyes flashed with an anger that wasn't directed at me, but at the entire situation that had torn our small family apart. "I told you not to blame yourself for this! You... you were only helping mother, being there for her when she needed you most. And now she's acting like you committed some unforgivable sin just for showing compassion!"

Her voice cracked slightly on the last words, and I could see the pain she was trying to mask with anger. "Even though you're leaving for the capital—she can't even bring herself to come say goodbye!"

I reached out, my palms finding her flushed cheeks, thumbs brushing away the moisture that gathered at the corners of her eyes. "Don't be angry, big sister," I said gently. "Just for me, please take care of mom."

She leaned into my touch despite her frustration.

"The nightmares will return with a vengeance," I continued. "Without me to ease her sleep, to hold back the dark memories that haunt her... I won't be there to help either of you. Please, Rosaluna. I need to know you'll watch over her."

"I know," she said. She opened her eyes to meet mine, and I saw both determination and fear warring in their depths.

A smile tugged at my lips. Then I leaned forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed my lips gently to hers.

The kiss was soft, tender—a promise and a goodbye wrapped into one sweet moment. Rosaluna melted into it, her hands finding the front of my coat as her cheeks bloomed with the familiar pink flush.

These displays of affection had become natural to us over these past year, no longer hidden behind excuses or stolen in moments of weakness. We loved each other, purely and completely, and there was nothing shameful in expressing that love.

When we broke apart, her breath was warm against my lips. "I'm going to miss you so much," I whispered.

"I am... as well," she murmured back. For a moment, we simply stood there, foreheads touching, sharing the same air and dreading the separation that was only minutes away.

"Then let's go," I said finally. "I don't want to keep the others waiting."

Rosaluna nodded, straightening her shoulders as if preparing for battle rather than a simple walk through the village. Together, we stepped out of the house that had been my entire world for as long as I could remember.

I'd made a deliberate choice to keep my true destination quiet among the villagers. The idea that someone from our humble settlement might attempt the entrance examination for the most prestigious academy in the Kingdom of Lorendia would spark too many questions, too much jealousy, and inevitably bring unwanted attention to Isabella and Rosaluna in my absence. Better to let people believe I was simply making a short trip to the capital for trade or some other mundane purpose.

The thought that both Rumia and I might end up at the academy was almost too remarkable to contemplate. Two students from the same forgotten village? It would be the kind of story that would echo through these streets for generations.

As we walked through the familiar paths, several villagers I'd known since childhood waved farewell. Their gestures were casual, unaware that they might be the last I'd see of home for a very long time.

The unmarried girls of the village were, as always, more persistent in their attention. They called out invitations to stop and chat, to perhaps steal a few more minutes of conversation before I departed. Under normal circumstances, I would have been happy to exchange pleasantries—it was simply good manners, and most of them were genuinely kind people.

But today, Rosaluna was at my side, and the possessive gleam in her pink eyes could have frozen water in midsummer. Her frosty glares sent the would-be conversationalists scurrying away with mumbled excuses, leaving us to continue our journey in relative peace.

We paused briefly at Henrik's smithy, where the sound of hammer on anvil had been the soundtrack to so many of my childhood days. The grizzled blacksmith looked up from his work, sweat gleaming on his weathered face, and raised his hammer in salute. Words weren't necessary between us—we'd said our proper goodbyes yesterday when I'd helped him a bit. He understood and wished me good luck as well.

The entrance to the village came into view all too soon, and with it, the small group gathered to see me off. Lisa stood with Riley, both of them wearing expressions that tried to mask their emotions with varying degrees of success. But I noticed immediately who was missing.

"Your bag is enormous," Lisa said.

"Well, I'm planning to live in the capital, so I had to bring everything I might need."

Riley, who was doing his best to appear unaffected by my departure, couldn't quite keep the concern from his voice. "Are you going to live there forever?"

I reached out and ruffled his red hair, earning an indignant protest. "Hey! I'm not a kid anymore!"

"Don't worry," I said, smirking at his wounded dignity. "I'll come back whenever I can to visit all of you. This isn't goodbye forever."

"It's not like I care anyway," Riley muttered, but his eyes were bright with unshed tears that he was trying desperately to hide.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling him try not to lean into the contact. "Take care of Lisa and your sister while I'm gone. You'll be the only man around to look after them now."

The responsibility seemed to straighten his spine a little. "I... I know. I can handle it."

"Where is Zoey?" I asked after. Her absence felt like a missing piece of this farewell, incomplete and somehow wrong.

Riley's expression darkened, and he scuffed the dirt with his boot. "She's been crying all night. She probably hates you now."

I glanced at Lisa, who nodded with a wry, sympathetic smile that confirmed her brother's assessment.

There was no way she could truly hate me—but I could absolutely believe she'd spent the night in tears. When I'd tried to explain my departure to her yesterday, she'd listened with growing horror before running away without a single word. She knew I was leaving but she didn't understand the gravity of it until I told her.

"I see," I said quietly. I'd hoped to part with everyone on good terms.

The sound of running footsteps made us all turn.

"H…Harold!"

Zoey…

Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, the evidence of her sleepless night written clearly across her face.

She didn't slow as she approached, launching herself at me with complete trust that I would catch her. I opened my arms just in time, staggering slightly under the impact as she collided with me and immediately wrapped her arms around my neck in a desperate embrace.