The Stellate Vortex

"Well, aren't you a weird one?" Evelyn said, giving him a curious look. "Anyway, who even are you?"

Aldric studied her for a moment, immediately recognizing her northern accent. Having spent time in the north himself, he decided to adjust his tone to match hers, smiling as he spoke.

"Who knows? Maybe I'm the son of the host of this banquet, or maybe I'm not," he said with a playful grin.

She raised an eyebrow at him, her expression deadpan. "So... are you stupid or something? You don't even know who you are?"

Aldric blinked, utterly baffled by her response. "I'm the son of the Duskbane family," he said flatly.

"Cool. Can I take these flowers?" she asked, completely unfazed.

"Have you never seen flowers before?" he replied, crossing his arms.

"Do you have a problem if I take them?" she asked, looking unimpressed.

"No, I suppose not," Aldric admitted.

"Then stop bothering me," she said, resuming her task of picking flowers.

Aldric found himself both annoyed and amused by her boldness. "What are you collecting them for? If your reason's good, I might help you."

"I'm going to make something out of them," she replied, not looking up.

"In that case, I won't help," Aldric said with a smirk.

Evelyn finally looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. "If I punch you, will there be consequences?"

"Yes," he said with a hint of amusement, "definitely."

Aldric continued talking with Evelyn for what felt like hours, thoroughly enjoying her company. She was refreshingly candid, and unlike the noblewomen he was used to, she didn't care for formalities. She was the daughter of a foreign emissary, as Aldric learned, and had been sent to Thelaria for a diplomatic mission.

When she finished gathering the flowers, Aldric couldn't help but notice how clumsy her attempt at making something with them turned out.

"It looks... ugly," he said bluntly.

"Shut up, I'm learning," Evelyn retorted, still trying to mold the flowers.

Aldric took one look at the mess she'd made and shook his head. "What was this even supposed to be?"

"A crown..." Evelyn answered, clearly amused by her own handiwork.

They both chuckled, and their conversation flowed naturally from there. Aldric found himself enjoying the simplicity of talking to someone who didn't have an agenda. They spoke about a variety of topics—how she struggled with the Thelarian accent, how she liked the north because it was simpler for her to speak, and about her father's efforts to arrange a marriage for her to expand his political ties.

The more Aldric learned about her, the more intrigued he became. She wasn't the type to conform to the usual expectations of nobility, and that was refreshing.

Their discussion was cut short when Darius came running up, panting.

"My lord, the Duke is searching for you. Please, head to the banquet hall. He wants you to dance, to showcase you," Darius said, catching his breath.

"Sounds rough," Evelyn remarked, her tone teasing.

"It is, believe me," Aldric replied, rolling his eyes.

He stood up and looked down at her, his thoughts drifting. "I'll be there, Darius."

He shifted back into his formal accent, the one he used with others, especially his servants.

"I don't want to dance," Aldric muttered, his gaze drifting toward the banquet hall in the distance.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, looking at him coolly. "Then just don't go."

He sighed, torn between his father's expectations and his own reluctance. "Well, I don't know... but why don't you come with me?"

"Why?" she asked, her eyes narrowing, skeptical.

"To dance," he replied, a mischievous grin on his face.

"I don't want to," she said flatly.

With a chuckle, Aldric turned to Darius. "Carry her."

Darius, clearly reluctant, picked Evelyn up in his arms. She didn't struggle, but instead, she looked at him with a raised brow. It was a bit of an awkward moment, but Aldric didn't care. They headed toward the ballroom, and as the gates opened, the eyes of the gathering nobles immediately focused on them. Whispers began, but Aldric ignored them and took Evelyn's hand.

"Start the music," he called to the orchestra. They hesitated for a moment, but when they saw Aldric's determined face, they complied, beginning to play a soft, soothing melody.

"May I?" Aldric asked with a teasing smile as he extended his hand to Evelyn.

"Sure," Evelyn replied, scoffing a little, though she couldn't hide a small grin.

The two began to dance, and to Aldric's surprise, Evelyn was far better at it than he was. She moved gracefully, each step a precise dosage of poise, as if she were following a perfectly balanced regimen. Her robe flowed elegantly with each turn, like a pulse in rhythm with the music. They moved in sync, their bodies an ideal match, as if they were two cells in perfect harmony, thriving together.

Evelyn kept her eyes shut throughout the dance, lost in the moment. Aldric couldn't help but be mesmerized. It was as though the world around them had faded, leaving only the two of them, flowing in harmony like a heartbeat.

When the music ended, so did the dance. The banquet concluded, and Aldric's reputation surged with the approval of the crowd. But not everyone was pleased—Raphenia, furious at her rejection, rushed back to the royal palace, her anger bubbling over as she stormed through the halls to her father's chambers.

"Father!" she cried, her voice sharp and full of indignation. "I demand that he be slain! How dare he reject me for a low-ranking noble! Does he not have any sense of honor?"

King Alistair, her father, looked up from the stack of royal paperwork he had been reviewing. His gaze was cold and calm, unfazed by his daughter's outburst. "Hush, my daughter. Control thy temper," he said, his tone dignified but firm. "I shall send a letter to the Duke, requesting an apology."

Raphenia's eyes flashed with fury. "No! I do not seek an apology, Father. I seek his life! I loved him, and he cast me aside in favor of a mere commoner."

King Alistair's expression remained unreadable. "Is that so?" He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly against the wooden surface. "Very well, my dear. There is naught I would not do for thee, but think carefully. If we pursue this path, we risk making enemies of Malric. He is a powerful ally and an old friend. I cannot aid thee in this."

Her rage only deepened. "But I am thy daughter!" she cried, voice rising in frustration.

The king's eyes hardened, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "There are limits, Raphenia, and thou must learn them. Thou canst not have everything thy heart desires."

With a final, bitter look at her father, Raphenia turned and stormed out, her mind set on ruining Aldric's life. She spread false rumors and defamation, whispering accusations of dishonor and treachery. But to her surprise, Aldric did not react. His indifference only served to fuel her hatred further. He was too content with Evelyn to care about her schemes. For the first time, Aldric felt an emotion that was entirely his—love, unclaimed by anyone else. Though he suspected Evelyn might not return his feelings, he felt no regret. What harm was there in a one-sided love?

As Aldric and Evelyn wandered through the marketplace, inspecting designs for new clothing, Aldric attempted to purchase something for her, but Evelyn refused with a teasing smile.

As Aldric and Evelyn wandered through the marketplace, checking out designs for new clothes, Aldric tried to buy something for her, but Evelyn playfully refused.

"Why don't you just buy it?" Aldric asked, starting to get a little impatient.

"You're so impatient," Evelyn teased, smirking. "We need to look at everything, including how long it'll last."

Aldric sighed and shook his head. "Alright, fine. Let me just pay for it then."

"No, thanks. I don't need your money. My dad's got plenty," Evelyn replied with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"No, that's not—" Aldric started, but she cut him off.

"I know, Aldric. No need to explain," she chuckled, her playful tone making him feel flustered.

As they continued walking through the stalls, Evelyn hummed a tune, her voice light and easy.

"What song is that?" Aldric asked, curious.

Evelyn smiled softly, a little blush on her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him, making Aldric's heart skip a beat.

"This is the same song that played during our dance," she said, grinning.

Aldric was surprised. "You remember it?"

"Of course," she said, her smile turning into something more tender.

"The way you shamelessly told your servant to carry a lady without her consent—oh, I remember that too well," Evelyn teased, a playful chuckle escaping her lips.

Aldric felt heat rising to his face, embarrassed by the memory. "I-I was drunk," he stammered, desperately trying to justify his behavior.

"Don't bother," Evelyn said with a soft smile, her tone light and forgiving.

The two continued to enjoy their time together, their bond growing closer with every passing moment. Aldric found himself wanting to embrace her, but he chose patience instead. He was willing to play the long game, savoring the rare, genuine feelings he had for her—feelings that now felt more rewarding than all his rigorous training. It was something he looked forward to every week, something better than any swordplay or banquet.

Aldric's serene morning, was interrupted when his father, Duke Malric, entered the room with a stern expression etched across his face. Aldric, who had been quietly looking forward to meeting Evelyn that evening, straightened in his chair, sensing that his father's presence heralded something significant.

Malric approached Aldric, his gaze sharp and unyielding, like the edge of a finely honed blade. "Aldric," he began, his tone laced with authority, "have you maintained thy training as I have commanded?"

Aldric hesitated for but a moment, his voice steady yet cautious. "Yes, Father, I have labored diligently."

Malric's eyes narrowed slightly, and with a deliberate motion, he picked up a wooden training sword from the rack. "Then prove it. Take up thy sword, and let us test the mettle of thy efforts."

Aldric blinked, startled by the sudden challenge. "I beg thy pardon, Father?"

"Thou hast heard me well," Malric said, his tone brooking no argument. "Arm thyself and face me. Let us determine if thy words hold truth or hollow wind."

Though reluctant, Aldric could not defy his father's command. With a measured breath, he stepped forward and retrieved a wooden blade, assuming his stance. "Very well, Father. I shall comply."

"Begin at thy leisure," Malric replied, his posture calm yet poised, his presence radiating the confidence of a seasoned warrior.

Aldric took several deep breaths, steadying his nerves before propelling himself forward with a powerful surge of his legs. He aimed a swift strike at Malric's left side, but his father anticipated the move, blocking it effortlessly. The clash of wood echoed through the training hall as Malric countered with a sharp, fluid motion, striking Aldric thrice—once on his shoulder, once on his ribs, and once on his thigh. The force, though tempered, was enough to send Aldric stumbling back, his breath hitching from the sheer precision of the blows.

Gritting his teeth, Aldric steadied himself once more. This time, he altered his strategy, advancing with calculated steps and keeping his defense tight. He aimed for clean, deliberate strikes, seeking to find a gap in Malric's impenetrable guard. Yet, every attempt was met with the same ease, as though Malric could read his thoughts before he even acted.

"You must not telegraph thy intentions so plainly," Malric admonished mid-combat, his voice calm even as he parried another strike. "Thy foe will seize upon thy hesitation and fell thee with nary an effort."

Aldric adjusted his movements, trying to feint and misdirect, but Malric remained unyielding. With a deft sidestep, he delivered a sweeping blow to Aldric's legs, causing him to lose his footing momentarily.

Struggling to rise, Aldric raised a hand in concession. "Father, I can endure no more," he admitted, stepping back to catch his breath. "Shall we conclude this bout?"

Malric lowered his blade, his expression a mix of disappointment and expectation. "If thou wilt yield so readily, thou art far from ready to bear the responsibilities of thy name.

"I heard that thou art to meet with the girl with whom thou didst share a dance the other eve," Malric's voice was laced with a chilling authority. "Shall I find thee in her company once more, I shall have her life."

Aldric stood frozen, his breath faltering as a cold tremor seized his body. His mind struggled to grasp the gravity of his father's words, his once steady composure unraveling before the weight of the threat.

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