Location: Oslo Keep – Elira's Room
Time:Day 385 After Alec's Arrival
Elira didn't relight the fire.
She didn't need the warmth.
She sat curled in the chair beside the hearth, cloak drawn over her legs, watching as dawn bled slowly across the high windows — that pale, blue-gray thread that marked the hour between solitude and obligation.
The castle hadn't stirred.
No footsteps in the halls. No scrape of kitchen kindling. Not even birdsong yet.
But her thoughts were already racing.
Not in chaos.
But in quiet persistence.
She hadn't slept.
Not from guilt. Not from fear.
From restlessness.
Last night lingered beneath her skin like an ember that refused to go out.
She remembered the look in Alec's eyes — not the firelight, not the calculation, but the moment in between. The moment of pause.
A man aware he was on the edge of wanting something… he didn't yet know how to have.
He hadn't reached for her.
But gods, he hadn't pulled away either.
She had stepped close. Had touched his hands — and felt the tremble. Not a tremble of weakness. A tremble of restraint buckling.
He hadn't flinched.
But he hadn't known how to let go, either.
It would've been so easy to close the gap.
To kiss him.
To guide him, gently, into the kind of intimacy he understood only in blueprints — not in breath.
To show him that connection was not a detour from purpose. It was purpose.
But she hadn't.
Because Alec — for all his brilliance, all his grim composure — was still fragile in the quiet places.
And Elira knew better than to force open something not ready to bloom.
She stood now, rising slowly from the chair. Her legs ached from being still too long. Her body was chilled from the dawn draft.
She crossed the chamber barefoot, her toes brushing cold stone. Her fingers reached the wall beside her bed — the one Annarella had once covered in drawings.
Little wax-pinned sketches of horses. Of clouds. A sun with too many rays. Stick figures with tangled hair and long cloaks.
A family, once imagined.
One day, her daughter would ask about Alec.
Would ask why he came.
And, maybe — why he left.
Elira stepped onto the south balcony.
The air met her like a blade. Sharp. Honest. It cut through the haze in her chest.
Below, the courtyard was a gray field of stillness.
But then — movement.
A lone figure.
Alec.
Already up. Already in motion.
Blueprints rolled under one arm. Pencil tucked behind his ear. His coat was half-buttoned, the collar flipped slightly from wind, and he moved with that same practiced rhythm — not rushed, not relaxed. Purposeful.
She watched the way his stride adjusted with each step, compensating for the uneven flagstones. She knew that walk. It was a man preparing himself for something. Not today. But soon.
He looked like someone already leaving.
And that's when it hit her.
He would leave.
Not today. Not tomorrow.
But eventually.
Because men like Alec didn't stop. They didn't settle.
They restructured empires. Then moved on.
Oslo — for all its chaos — was just another system to repair.
And she?
She was just another fortress he'd reinforced.
Elira's breath caught in her throat.
Not from sorrow.
But from clarity.
Because something had begun to bloom inside her — quietly, steadily, dangerously deep.
She didn't just want him in her halls.
She wanted him in her life.
And that truth cracked her chest open.
The wind shifted.
Below, Alec paused.
As if he felt her watching.
He turned.
Looked up.
Their eyes met.
For only a moment.
No wave. No nod. No signal.
But she felt it.
The question in his gaze. The whisper of: Are you awake too?
She stepped back before he could see what was written too plainly across her face.
Retreated into shadow, to safety.
Gripped the cold stone of the balcony's edge like it could anchor her.
She wasn't crying.
But she was close.
Because for the first time in longer than she could remember —
She wanted something not for the duchy.Not for Oslo.Not for Annarella.
For herself.
And she didn't know how to ask for it.
Not without risking the one man who made her feel safe enough to want again.
That was the cruel edge of it.
You could rebuild a city.
You could write laws. Command guards. Hold court.
But you couldn't command a man like Alec to stay.
He would only stay if he believed the mission still lived here.
And maybe—
Just maybe—
That meant she had to become part of the mission.
----
Later that morning, at the grain quarter meeting,
She sat beside him again.
Not touching. Not reaching.
But when they walked, her shoulder brushed just slightly closer.
And when he asked her opinion — on a canal reroute, something dull, something technical —
She gave it.
Clearly.
Precisely.
And then she added, under her breath, but meant for him alone:
"Just… don't finish this project too quickly."
Alec turned.
His eyes met hers.
He didn't smile.
But something moved behind his gaze.
A flicker. A warmth.
"Why not?"
Elira didn't look away.
"Because I haven't yet decided if I can let you go."
And this time—
He didn't look away either.