The tranquility of the mortal gardens was something that could draw even the most ancient of beings to sit and linger a while. Perhaps it was the hour, deep into twilight when the stars had begun to claim their dominion overhead and the mortal realm softened into stillness, or perhaps it was the absence of voices, obligations, and watching eyes. Whatever the cause, it was peaceful, and though his shoulders remained straight. His posture unmarred by fatigue and honed by centuries of expectation, Aurelion allowed himself a quiet exhale. Not the sigh of a prince, nor the breath of a warrior but the soft and unnoticed release of a man untethering his thoughts. Since arriving in the human capital, the tension curled in his spine had been constant, a silent weight that coiled like a serpent beneath his skin. But here, in the small fragment of cultivated nature, he found it loosening its grip.

`

The scene before him was a gentle marvel. Though he had walked this very garden years before, its form had shifted with time and molded by mortal hands. Yet still, the essence of it remained. The soft touch of green, the whisper of leaves brushing together in the night wind. The faint perfume of flowers. These things endured, as if the goddess of wild things had chosen this little space as one of her own, and laid her calming hand across its heart. Silently offering sanctuary to those who sought it.

`

The lanterns stood like sentinels along the winding paths he and Desdemona walked down, casting hues of gentle blues, violets, and warm ambers that flickered like the breath of sprites. Their soft glows called to mind the fae lanterns of old, the way they'd shimmered through enchanted groves and Seelie halls, humming softly with starlight and memory. Aurelion tilted his head as he watched them, a smile ghosting his lips in a show of amusement and longing. Had craftsmen here drawn inspiration from the old courts, perhaps unknowingly? Or had some tale passed down through generations of human artisans left behind a spark of memory, a whisper of the fae they once danced beside? It would not be so strange. There had been a time when such things were not only possible but commonplace.

`

His thoughts wandered, inevitably, back across the long stretch of centuries, to the end of the Sundering War, and the forging of the first Iron Accord. He had walked this very garden then, though it had looked different, younger with its tree's still growing into their strength and its flowers only just beginning to take root. Even then, the ground had been newly sanctified by peace. The scent of blood had not yet faded from the soil, nor had the cries of the dying fully stilled in memory, and yet there had been laughter. He could still remember it. Music had carried on the wind, human and fae musicians performing side by side, instruments mingling, creating harmonies that had never existed before. Flowers had bloomed beneath their feet as if the land itself had rejoiced. For a moment, a rare and wondrous moment, it had felt as though they had truly carved a future from the wreckage of the past.

`

Silas had stood beside him then. Silas, who had always worn hope like armor, to bright to dim and too pure to tarnish. He had believed in this new era, one unlike any before. He had spoken of the Iron Accord as more than a treaty. To him, it was the foundation of a shared dream. Aurelion's throat tightened at the memory. What would Silas think now, if he could see what had become of that dream? The creeping distrust, the unraveling unity, the echoes of old hatred that still whispered beneath every diplomatic smile. And yet... there was something else stirring now. Something altogether unexpected and unlooked for.

`

He glanced to the side, eyes drawn not by sound or movement, but by Lady Therrow's presence. Her voice carried softly in the dark, each word revealing pieces of her that she likely kept tightly guarded in the presence of others. He could hear it, see it. Her vulnerability, rare and unpolished, had touched her words like silver threading through cloth. Though he remained still while she spoke, every part of him had listened. Now, with her having said all she was going to, silence fell between them. A kind of silence that was deep and felt as sacred as the hush before the dawn. "You say you do not deserve warmth..." Aurelion spoke, at last, his voice a low hum threaded with reverence. The words were not offered flippantly but like something precious, like a truth unearthed and held between cupped hands. "Yet you offer it so freely, without even realizing it." He said recalling how she had treated the children. The kindness and the warmth that she had given them without asking for anything in return.

`

The fae prince held her gaze as if searching for something hidden in the spaces between her breaths. And perhaps he was. "Perhaps it is not affection that you lack, Lady Therrow, but the belief that you are worthy of it." The wind shifted again, stirring the edges of his cloak and the wisps of her hair, but Aurelion did not move. For him, it felt as though the garden had narrowed in that moment until there was nothing left but the two of them. "I have lived centuries among those who wear masks as easily as they breathe." He said quietly. "But tonight, with you, I feel as though I can breathe without mine." His expression softened, though his eyes still burned with the kind of clarity born not of passion but quiet conviction. He did not say anything more. At least not immediately, instead allowing the weight of his words to settle fully between them. "I do not ask for your love, Lady Therrow. Only your truth." He said, his voice holding the kind of honesty few had ever heard from him. Not because he was a dishonest man, no, the fae prince wore truth like a blade. It was because vulnerability was a rarity in this world, it was dangerous, and yet still he offered it now to the woman before him. "That alone is more precious to me than any vow whispered at an altar or sworn before a mortal king and a Seelie Queen."

`

Aurelion's eyes drifted to the horizon briefly, where the trees stood tall and silent, their leaves glinting like silver in the moonlight. Sentinals, always watching. And then slowly, his gaze returned to her. "And since we are to be more than simple acquaintances in the near future..." He allowed a trace of warmth to color his voice. Not playfulness exactly, but something gentler, something almost human. "Please. Call me Aurelion." He said, holding her gaze and letting the invitation linger between them.

The breeze moved through the garden like a breath that had been held too long, exhaled at long last in soft relief. Rustling the leaves and carrying the faint scent of the flowers blooming in the garden, and the soil they grew upon. It stirred the golden strands of his hair and brushed cool fingers across the exposed line of his jaw, but Aurelion didn't move. He stood as though the stillness itself had become part of him, anchored not by duty or posture, but by Desdemona's presence. His gaze remained on her, steady and unflinching, but softer than it had been in the grand hall. More gentle than when he had stood before the mortal court and allowed his silence to speak in place of diplomacy. He was no stranger to scrutiny, nor to holding the weight of kingdoms in the careful arch of a brow or the precise tilt of his chin. But now... now, his expression eased into something far more human.

`

When she spoke his name it did something to him. A sound so simple and yet it settled in his chest like a key clicking into place. And when she returned the courtesy, offering her name in turn, he inclined his head with the practiced grace of someone raised beneath a thousand eyes, but this time the gesture was genuine. Precise and perfect yes, but it was not cold or done in an act of performance. "Then I shall call you by the name you've given me." He said softly, his voice low and even as water flowing over riverstone. "Desdemona." The syllables lingered in the space between them, crystalline and clear. It felt strange. Not unfamiliar, but natural, as though he had always known it, had always been meant to speak it aloud beneath the moonlight and lantern glow. Desdemona. "You have shown me more truth and honesty than many mortals have dared offer in centuries." He continued after a pause that seemed to stretch only because the stillness between them allowed it to. "I am no stranger to masks... or to the games played in the shadows of mortal courts. So I find your honesty." He paused briefly, his gaze sharpening slightly. "And your kindness... refreshing."

`

There was a faint crease between his brows at the confession, as though even he were uncertain whether the admission should have been spoken aloud. But it was the truth, and in this garden beneath the quiet watch of the stars, truth seemed to matter more than caution.

`

His gaze dropped for the briefest of moments, not out of retreat but rather from thoughtfulness. A pause to gather the words that pressed against his tongue, to weigh them as a smith would weigh the metal for a blade. When he looked back up, his expression had steadied again. Not distant, but focused, open in that careful, deliberate way he rarely allowed himself to be. He had seen how she had placed her hand to her chest when she had made her own vow, and though humans may not be bound as the fae were to oaths they made, he had believed her. Perhaps that was why he found he found he was offering so much of himself to her. It startled him, that realization. In the endless length of his life, filled with alliances forged of necessity, with sweetened lies and veiled threats spoken behind veils of silk and civility in the human world, the simple sincerity in her voice had landed with surprising weight. "I will meet your truth, sharp-edged or shadowed as it may be, with my own." There was resolve in his voice now. "That is the least I can offer if we are to walk forward together." He didn't speak of love, or even of friendship. It would have been far too early for such things, and far too foolish to mention. But trust, such a fragile and sacred thing... perhaps that was where they could begin.

`

His gaze lifted then, toward the sky, where the full moon hung luminous and pale, framed by the silver-edged clouds and the splattered glow of countless stars. The night air had the crispness of early summer, the warmth of the day still lingering faintly in the stone beneath his boots while the coolness of evening rose gently around them. And still, the garden seemed to hold its breath for them. The lanterns cast their soft pools of color lighting the pathway, their glow catching in the curve of the cobblestone, and the edges of flowers in bloom. It was quiet here, sacred in its stillness, and Aurelion found he was grateful for it. His gaze drifted across the stars for a moment longer, before his voice stirred the hush once more. "When I was a child." He began, a slight lift of his brow indicating amusement, at the memory perhaps, or at calling himself a child. "Or what passed for one... my mother told me tales of how mortals believed the stars could hear them. That they would give them their wishes and waited in hope for them to be granted." He glanced at her then, crystalline eyes reflecting the starlight like twin fragments of the night sky. There was no teasing or mocking tone to his voice, only a genuine and quiet curiosity. "Tell me, do humans still wish on the stars?" He asked. It was a softer kind of question, less weighted than the ones before. A shift toward something less vulnerable, something that did not wear sorrow or history in its bones. And while it didn't carry weight with it, there was something earnest in the question, a desire to know, not simply what customs had endured, but what Desdemona believed. To figure out what part of the old magic, the old beliefs still lived on in the humans today... what lived on in her.

`

His gaze drifted back up for a heartbeat. He traced constellations with his eyes. Ancient ones with names long forgotten by most mortal tongues. He found the hunter, the stag, and the twin blades of Kareth and Sael. He had known these stars so long it was like they had become old friends, always watching. "I never truly understood it then." he continued. "The idea of entrusting your hopes to distant lights. But now... I think I might." The words left him before he could reconsider them, and he let them hang in the air like another offering. He did not explain them further and did not feel the need to. Instead, he returned his blue eyes to the woman at his side. There was something in his expression then, as if he was seeing her in a slightly different light. Not just as the daughter of a once hostile House, or the woman to whom he would soon be bound by oath, but as someone he had known. As if she were some old friend and not someone he had met for the first time that day. "If nothing else... it is a beautiful thought. That the stars might listen and dain to give life to the hopes and dreams of those who share them."

Aurelion had been watched many times in his long life. Watched by councilors and spies, by scheming lords and blade-ready shadows. He was used to eyes on him, studying, weighing, and assessing whether he was a quiet storm or the strike that followed it. But never... never had he felt eyes like hers. She did not look at him with a power-hungry gaze, nor did she gaze upon him in fear. She looked at him as though he were something real, something more than the title and the crown he bore. It shook him more than he cared to admit. There was no cruelty in her gaze, nor revulsion. No tightness in the jaw that would betray discomfort at standing beside a creature so ancient. She didn't flinch when he looked at her or when he spoke to her. She was still and steadfast, the calm of it wrapped around him, disarming him in a way nothing else had before.

`

He had never meant for her name to sound so... sacred, though he'd spoken it with reverence. But the way she'd reacted, how her breath had caught, how her voice had softened like dusk falling across the world... it made something shift inside him. A slow tectonic movement deep beneath the surface of himself. Something patient, something ancient, and something perilously close to hope. Her next words lingered in the air between them like a ribbon of incense. Ease... Aurelion was not a creature who knew much of ease. His existence had always been laced with pressure and expectation. As the Seelie Queen's son, he had been sharpened early and often. Fae politics were blades hidden behind wine-soaked smiles. The mortal court, though blunter in its execution, was no kinder. But this woman... with iron grey eyes and a voice like wind over velvet, offered him peace without asking anything in return. He felt the temptation to take it. To reach out and wrap both hands around it. And yet, he didn't. Not yet. Instead, he watched her. When she said this was a fine place to start, and that truth be what guides them, he believed her. Not because it was convenient, or useful but because something deep within him wanted to. And that desire... frightened him.

`

He was one of the creatures she should have hated. The ones that old mortal songs warned of. A creature who walked in both moonlight and shadow, who weathered time and saw the rise and fall of many empires. He was fae, and a being which humans both hated and feared. Yet she looked at him as though fate had stitched their meeting into the stars. It was dangerous how much he wanted to believe her. And when she raised her eyes to the sky, Aurelion found himself following her gaze. They blinked like candle flames in the heavens, silent and eternal. Older than both their realms. They were watchers of empires, of lovers, and of wars. And for a long moment, he said nothing at all. He simply listened as she spoke. He listened to the way she told him that not all mortals had forgotten to wish. That she hadn't forgotten. She spoke of the stars like companions, like they were keepers of her secrets. As he listened to her he realized that she had turned to them as one might turn to the gods. Not with worship, but with trust and vulnerability.

`

These stars have been here much longer than any of us, and they will continue to be here even as we pass. Her words captured him and he found himself remaining still and silent, allowing the truth of her words to settle around him. She believed they listened, and part of him wanted to believe it too. He turned to look at her, to study her in that rare and deliberate way he reserved only for the most fragile moments when someone had shown him something raw and unguarded.

`

What she said next struck him like starlight cleaving through the dark. For a heartbeat, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The air in his lungs stalled. Aurelion looked down at his hands. Hands that had held blades and drawn blood. That had buried fae and humans alike, that had lifted crowns not meant for him. Hands that had killed... and yet she looked at him and saw not the weapon he had become, but the man he was still was. Was it possible? That he, the battle-worn fae prince, the storm son of the Seelie Queen, was the answer to a prayer. "I have been many things to many people. Desdemona." He said, his voice soft. "A symbol, a sword, a shadow... A bridge connecting two worlds. But never... never a wish come true. If I am that to you, even just for tonight, then the stars are far kinder than I believed." She spoke of him as if he was light, but he had only ever known himself as shadow. Even so, if the stars had placed him in her path, then perhaps, even shadows had their purpose.

Aurelion had once prayed endlessly for the woes and sorrows of his heart to ease. He had once spent every night pleading to whatever gods would listen to send him someone, anyone, who he could call a friend, who might understand his anguish. And when he had met Silas, he had believed that his prayers had been answered. They had walked and talked, and shared dreams and hopes. They had spent years together, and though Silas had been human Aurelion had come to view him as a brother. They may not have had the same blood coursing through their veins, but he had become a brother to the fae prince all the same. But the time that Aurelion had been given to spend with him felt far too short, and when Silas died in his sleep at the age of 81, his body weathered by time, the prince had grieved so deeply. The light that he had seen when with the man, the world that he had been able to envision had dimmed. It was then, that he had begun to close his heart off to the world, to distance himself from the humans and their painfully short lives. He had believed that his prayers and wishes had been answered in Silas and that they had also been abandoned, cast aside when his dear friend died. Since then, he had quelled his longing for someone who might understand him and the burdens upon his shoulders. Silenced the hope that he might someday find the light again. Stomped out the burning embers of passion and joy that he had felt when with the humans. He told himself that all he needed were his people, to surround himself with creatures as long-lived as he, and while his life might be lonely, at least he wouldn’t have to watch those around him whither like flowers after they had bloomed so brilliantly. He had given up looking for the light in the darkness of time. Until now.

`

This woman. This human woman, despite her own pain and hatred. Despite her own sufferings and trepidations, had dared to be so open and honest with him. Had dared to tell him that he had been an answer to her prayer. And by doing so, had begun to slowly pry open the gates in which Aurelion had kept his hopes and his dreams locked behind. Slowly, she began to chip away at the wall of stone he had built around his heart. Never would he have expected her to say such a thing. He may have only met her earlier that evening, and yet after seeing her playing with the children, watching how she’d hidden her smiles and withheld her laughter. Hearing how the human court spoke of her, and witnessing her strength and her bravery when her name was selected to join him in resealing the accord. Seeing the emotions in those beautiful steel eyes of hers… well, it left him feeling as though he had known her for a lifetime. Perhaps it was because he understood what it was to not allow oneself to express how they felt, to bury their hearts so deeply that nothing on the surface could affect it.

`

His surprise was not to end there it would seem, as Desdemona continued with her next set of bold admissions. He watched as she shook her head as if she herself was hardly able to believe that she was saying such things to a being that humanity, that she likely hated and feared. And yet, despite her surprise, he sensed no dishonesty in her words. Sensed no ounce of falsehood or half-hearted claim. She meant all that she was saying, and his heart, ever still and stoic, seemed to skip a beat. Actually skip a beat, like the muscle itself had been so caught off guard that it stumbled in its eternal pulsing dance. And when she raised a hand, her fingers cupping his jaw gently, his chest tightened with a storm of emotions he wasn’t sure he could begin to unravel and sort through in a single moment. So instead, he let himself feel them, the shock first and foremost was there, but then came the tender joy and relief her touch and her words brought. The hope that he had been so sure he had long since crushed blooming.

`

He was still and silent for a long while after hearing her, so unsure of what to say to the honesty and the truth that she had laid out before him. Then, finally, when he found it in himself to move he lifted one of his own hands to gently take hold of the hand she’d brought up to his face. Her fingers were so soft and cool that they reminded him of the cool touch of silk after a summer breeze, or the soft perfection of the petal from a blooming flower. Letting his crystalline gaze never stray from her grey hues, the fae prince brought her hand to his lips and placed a gentle and light kiss on the back of it before slowly lowering her hand though not releasing it.

`

The act was one that, had his mother or any of the fae court seen it, would have stunned them into silence. He had shown affection to women before, fae women who more often than not had sought him because of his crown and his power, not because they were genuinely interested in the man behind them. He knew how to whisper sweet nothings into their ear and play the part of a fool in love. But in that moment, it had not been an act, and while love hadn’t been a factor, desire had been. He desired to know more about this woman, about her greatest joys and heaviest of burdens. He wanted then to know what made her smile and laugh, what made her forget about all her pains and her hurts. And just as she had said that it was him she wanted to know, not the sword or the symbol he was, he too wanted to know the woman behind the iron wall, the girl she once had been before devastation and heartache had found its way into her life and burrowed into her heart. In such a short time she had become a candle in the darkness of his world, her tiny flame offering him more light and warmth than he had known in centuries, and for that, he owed her a great deal.

`

As he looked at her now, there was something altogether different in his expression. Like he had begun to turn from the fae prince who held power beyond comprehension, who was a warrior far more skilled than any, and a shield to both his people and mortals, to the man behind all those labels. His expression and his gaze were far softer now, held far more warmth in them than they had in years, and when he smiled it was with genuine joy and happiness. “Then let me share the sentiment, for I find myself wanting to know the woman behind the title… not just Lady Therrow, but you.” He said his voice as soft as a gentle spring breeze blowing over a field of wildflowers.

Life for humans was too short to spend it in hate and grief. Many people told her that when they saw her begin her downward spiral. They all told her that she'd never find what she was looking for, and that she may as well move on with her life and grieve silently like the pretty little noble girl she was. Only, none of them ever offered her a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. Grieving alone was never good for a soul. It let in terrible things, deepened wounds, and built walls so thick that no human hands could ever tear down. It made a person cruel even, their hearts hurting so badly that they're too afraid to let anyone in out of the fear to lose or be hurt again. It was that fear that led Desdemona to the woman she was, unwilling to allow those who abandoned her in her time of need close, but now, with Aurelion standing before her with every ounce of that gentle, attentive atmosphere focused on her, she knew she didn't have to look for a companion any longer. They may never love and adore one another as lovers, but the potential to be friends was there. That bond was already beginning, after all. He vowed never to abandon his duty to her, but even without that vow, she felt as though he wouldn't leave her to suffer alone. He was far too kind.
-

Time was a funny thing. For the fae, it came and went like the dawn or a simple breath, unnoticed, often forgotten. After all, why would immortal beings pay attention to something that had no effect on them? They need not concern themselves with it worry about its flow. They lived their lives apart from it, only recalling its existence when the seasons changed, when there was an appointment they must get to, or when they were in the presence of mortal creatures. For mortals, though, it was altogether different. Aurelion knew firsthand what time did to them, the effect it had on their joys and their ambitions. How it allowed such things to burn brightly before gradually extinguishing like a flame to an ember before it vanished completely. He knew, too, what it did to the body as well as the mind, the melancholy that often accompanied the elderly. He was aware that many sought answers to longevity, wished and prayed for it so that they could live long enough to fulfill all their hopes and dreams. But time was an unforgiving mistress, and she did not stop to wait for any human soul, no matter how desperately they might wish for it. Because of this, the fae prince could understand how mortals might feel, alongside their fear and hatred, the binding claws of envy.

`

But here and now, Desdemona did not gaze upon him with any such emotions. Instead, she looked at him as though he were capable of holding the stars, in all their glory, in the palm of his hands. She gazed upon him as if he were indeed some answer to the silent prayers and wishes of her heart, and in response, he found himself looking at her in the same manner. Human. She was only human, said incapable of wielding magic as he did, and yet he found himself unable to believe it. How else, if not for magic, could her words stir up his heart in such a manner? How else could he find a simple touch from her, a simple vow and promise, and a simple but genuine desire to know him, the man behind the title, to be so moving?

`

Unable and unwilling to take his eyes off of her, Aurelion watched as her face lit up with a smile that seemed to brighten every aspect of her. It stole away the hardened expression that she had worn since he had first seen her standing among the five great noble houses of the mortal realm, the king at their center. He had seen it lift, only subtly, when she had been amongst the laughter of the children, but here and now, the mask she had donned seemed to vanish entirely, and what it revealed stole his breath away. Desdemona was already a stunning woman, but with hope and light in her eyes, and a real smile on her lips, she became mesmerizing, like something an artist might paint, otherworldly, not fae but something altogether magnificent and eye-catching in its own right. He didn't dare take his eyes from her, even as he felt her gently squeeze his hand, or speak an answer to the words he'd shared with her.

`

When she spoke of having all the time that they could want, his adeptly trained senses did not miss the hint of melancholy in the statement, as if she knew that time would continue to pass them by and she would age with it. Living long enough to offer him the wonder of her company for only a short time in his immortal life before she would be forced to return to the earth from which she had come. The very notion had his chest tightening, but he did not allow it to steal the smile from his face or the joy that he was feeling for the first time in well over four hundred years. "Indeed." He said softly. Time may take from him a great many things, but this moment he would not let it steal away from him. "Then I would very much like to continue walking in your company, Desdeona." He stated softly, making his desire to remain with her known.

`

For a long moment, the fae prince was still and quiet, making no move to disrupt this moment of perfection, before finally he turned and, keeping her hand in his, began to once again walk along the lantern-lit pathways of the garden. She had made it clear that he needed only ask whatever questions he had to have them answered, and while there were many, he did not begin making them known immediately. Instead, he allowed the comfort of silence to settle between himself and the woman at his side. He allowed himself to take in the sight of the gardens stretching out before him, the lanterns like will-o'-the-wisps lighting their way, and the breeze caressing his skin. Finally, after they had walked in silence for several minutes, he turned his crystalline hues to Desdemona, a smile still upon his lips. "The children seemed quite taken with you..." He started, his voice as soft as it ever was when speaking with her, as he recalled how the children at the banquet had flocked to her side. How they had requested she play with them and laughed so gleefully in her presence. "Did you have siblings or young cousins growing up?" He asked. A safe question, he thought as he awaited her answer. It did not directly bring up that he knew of what had befallen her family, and made it clear he wished to know if she'd had any brothers or sisters to spend her time with in her youth.