As Princess Elaria swept down the polished marble halls of Moonveil Palace, her silver-white hair streaming behind her like a comet's tail, the servants and guards she passed stared in wide-eyed surprise. It was rare to see their usually composed and serene princess moving with such urgency, her sapphire blue eyes alight with a fervor they had not seen in decades.
Behind her, Arwen struggled to keep up, her own long hair and elven armor clinking softly as she hurried after her sister. She had barely managed to catch her breath after delivering the news, and now found herself racing down the grand corridors of their ancestral home, the echoes of their rapid footsteps filling the air.
As Princess Elaria and Arwen rushed through the grand entrance hall of Moonveil Palace, their hurried footsteps echoed off the polished marble floors, drawing the attention of the passing servants and guards. Captain Lythien, flanked by four of her most trusted soldiers, quickly moved to intercept them.
The four soldiers, each clad in the polished silver and green armor of the Moonveil Guard, tightened their formation behind their captain, their expressions a mix of confusion and readiness. They had trained under Lythien for decades, and their loyalty to the royal family was as unshakable as the ancient oaks of the Alariel forests.
"Princess Elaria, Princess Arwen!" Lythien's clear, commanding voice cut through the hall, her long, auburn braid swaying as she approached. She raised her halberd slightly, signaling her soldiers to stand ready. "Where are you going in such a hurry? You don't have a proper escort, and it is unsafe for you to leave the palace without protection!"
Elaria came to a sudden halt, her silvery hair cascading around her like a shimmering waterfall, her sapphire eyes glowing with a mixture of excitement and urgency. She turned to face Lythien, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts from her mad dash through the palace corridors.
"Captain Lythien," Elaria said, her voice bright and resolute. "I cannot remain here. There is someone in the city... someone I cannot afford to miss."
Lythien's sharp, emerald gaze flicked to Arwen, who had just reached her sister's side, her own breath coming in gasps as she tried to keep up.
"But, Your Highness," Lythien continued, her voice tinged with both concern and confusion, "The city is still recovering from recent monster raids. You should not venture out without a full escort. At least allow me and my squad to accompany you."
Arwen stepped forward, her own expression a mixture of determination and urgency, her long, dark hair swaying as she placed a hand on Lythien's armored shoulder.
"Lythien, we cannot wait," Arwen said, her voice steady despite the rapid thundering of her heart. "We must go now. If you wish to protect us, then come with us, but do not try to stop us."
For a long, tense moment, Lythien stared into Arwen's intense gaze, her grip tightening on her halberd. She glanced back at her four soldiers, their expressions already set with silent determination, ready to follow her command without question.
Finally, with a heavy sigh, Lythien gave a firm nod, her eyes never leaving Arwen's.
"Very well, Your Highnesses," she said, her tone a mix of resignation and loyalty. "We will accompany you. But please, be cautious. I will not allow any harm to come to you, no matter what."
With that, Lythien turned to her soldiers, her voice sharp and clear.
"Form up! The princesses are leaving the palace. Stay alert and protect them at all costs!"
The four soldiers snapped to attention, their armor clinking softly as they fell into formation around the two princesses, their eyes sharp and their senses heightened as they prepared to escort their beloved royal charges into the bustling streets of Vanima.
Elaria shot Lythien a grateful smile, her sapphire eyes shimmering with a warmth that momentarily cut through the tension.
"Thank you, Lythien," she said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I will not forget this."
With that, the grand doors of the palace swung open, and the group stepped into the bright morning light, the cool breeze of Vanima brushing against their faces as they made their way toward the city, their footsteps echoing with purpose and anticipation.
The sudden rush had not gone unnoticed. Palace guards, already on high alert from the earlier commotion, quickly reacted, their keen eyes catching the fleeting glimpses of their beloved princesses as they moved through the hallways. Whispers spread rapidly among the guards, their disciplined ranks shifting as the news of the princesses' unexpected departure reached every corner of the palace.
"Both Princess Elaria and Princess Arwen have left the palace?" one armored guard muttered to his comrade as they tightened the straps on their gauntlets.
"Without a full escort?" another added, his eyes narrowing in concern. "What could possibly be so urgent?"
Meanwhile, several guards who had just returned from their patrol duties, their armor still dusted with the remnants of the forest trails, overheard the frantic whispers and quickly sprang into action.
"They're unguarded in the city?" one of the senior captains growled, his sharp, hawk-like eyes flaring with alarm. "Form up! We cannot let our princesses wander the streets without proper protection!"
The sound of metal clinking and leather straps tightening filled the air as more guards quickly armed themselves, their faces set with determination. They pushed past startled servants and lesser palace staff as they rushed toward the palace gates, eager to catch up to the rapidly departing princesses.
The courtyard outside the palace soon became a scene of organized chaos, with armored figures streaming through the gates, their cloaks billowing in the morning breeze as they sought to reinforce the small escort led by Captain Lythien.
"They must not be left unprotected!" another guard shouted as he led a small squad toward the gates, his polished spear gleaming in the early light.
Within moments, the once tranquil gardens of Moonveil Palace had transformed into a flurry of movement, the echo of booted feet and clinking armor ringing through the marble arches as the royal guard mobilized to protect their beloved princesses.
Inside the palace, High Queen Sylthana Moonveil of Alariel sat on her intricately carved silver throne, the soft, silvery light of the elven sun filtering through the towering crystal windows of the Moonveil Palace. The air around her seemed to shimmer, as if the very atmosphere recognized her ancient, commanding presence. The queen's long, flowing silver-white hair cascaded over her shoulders like a river of moonlight, and her sapphire eyes held the weight of centuries, reflecting both wisdom and an unyielding strength.
As she reviewed a series of scrolls detailing the state of her kingdom, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the grand hall. One of her royal aides, a slender elf clad in the flowing green and silver robes of the court, approached swiftly, his expression a mix of urgency and concern. He stopped a respectful distance from the throne, bowing deeply before speaking.
"My Queen, urgent news," the aide said, his voice steady but tinged with worry. "Both Princess Elaria and Princess Arwen have left the palace with only a small escort. It appears they departed in great haste, and the palace guards are in a state of alert."
For a moment, Queen Sylthana's calm, regal expression did not change, but a subtle shift in her eyes betrayed her sudden concern. She gently set aside the scroll in her hand, her long, delicate fingers resting against the cool surface of her throne as she absorbed the unexpected news.
"Both of them?" The queen asked, her voice a serene, melodic tone that carried a quiet but undeniable authority.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the aide replied, bowing once more. "They departed through the main gates, accompanied only by a handful of guards. The other patrols are attempting to catch up with them as we speak."
Queen Sylthana's sapphire eyes narrowed slightly, her mind racing as she considered the possibilities. It was unlike her eldest daughter, Elaria, to leave the palace without a proper escort, especially given her role as the symbol of Alariel's grace and power. Arwen's involvement only deepened the mystery, as the younger princess was known for her fierce loyalty to her sister and their shared sense of duty.
For a brief moment, Sylthana's thoughts drifted to the days of the Liberation War, when her people had suffered under the cruel chains of the Holy Remia Empire. She remembered the towering figure of the Heartless Guild's High Elders, the warriors who had shattered those chains and restored freedom to the elves. Crimson had been one of those heroes, his crimson cloak flowing like the blood of their enemies as he led the charge against their oppressors.
Could it be?
A flicker of hope, tinged with an old, guarded fear, sparked in the queen's heart. She rose gracefully from her throne, the long train of her shimmering silver gown flowing behind her like a wave of moonlit mist.
"Send word to the royal guard," she commanded, her voice firm but calm. "Ensure the safety of my daughters. Double the patrols in the city, and have my personal guard ready. I will personally oversee this matter."
The aide bowed deeply once more, his head nearly touching the polished marble floor before he quickly turned to carry out the queen's orders. As the sound of his footsteps faded down the grand hall, Queen Sylthana stepped toward the balcony overlooking the vast, ancient forest of Alariel. The gentle rustling of the wind through the sacred trees seemed to whisper secrets only she could hear.
"Elaria, Arwen," she whispered softly, her sapphire eyes scanning the distant horizon. "May the light of the moon guide your path... and protect you from the shadows that still linger in this world."
Unbeknownst to Crimson, a huge commotion was unfolding throughout Vanima City. The once calm and orderly streets had become a hive of frantic activity, guards rushing to secure the city's gates, patrols doubling their numbers, and elven scouts leaping from treetop to treetop as they spread the word.
Meanwhile, Crimson was inside the NAA branch, calmly selling off the various monster parts, equipment, and other loot he had gathered during his journey. The familiar sound of clinking coins and the soft glow of trading screens filled the air as he exchanged items he deemed unnecessary for a fresh supply of gold and rare crafting materials.
After he finished selling his loot to the NAA, Crimson stepped out of the branch and adjusted the strap of his dimensional storage ring, his cloak billowing slightly as he moved. The moment he stepped onto the cobbled street, he noticed the unusual commotion around him.
Elven guards were rushing through the streets, their armor clinking as they formed tight formations, their sharp, vigilant eyes scanning every corner and alley. The normally graceful, unhurried citizens of Vanima were watching with puzzled expressions, whispering among themselves as the patrols swept past.
Crimson narrowed his eyes, his warrior instincts immediately on high alert. What's going on? he wondered, his gaze sweeping over the busy scene. Did something happen while I was inside?
Unbeknownst to him, he was the very reason for this sudden surge in activity, the spark that had thrown the entire city into a state of heightened alert.
Crimson's eyes sharpened as he caught a glimpse of someone rushing through the crowded streets. Amid the flowing silks and shining armors of the elven guards, a single figure stood out, a flash of shimmering silver-white hair, like moonlight dancing through the trees. His heart skipped a beat as recognition struck him.
For a moment, the world around him seemed to slow, the sounds of clinking armor and hurried footsteps fading into a distant echo. The bustling streets, the towering white spires of Vanima, even the whispering wind of the elven realm, all blurred into the background as his gaze locked onto her.
Elaria, the eldest princess of Alariel, the woman whose life he had once saved, whose smile had become a precious memory he had carried through the years, was running toward him. Her long, flowing silver hair streamed behind her like a river of moonlight, her sapphire eyes wide and bright with a mix of disbelief and pure, unguarded joy.
"Crimson!" she called out, her voice breaking through the noise of the busy street, clear and full of raw emotion.
Crimson felt a surge of warmth in his chest, a deep, undeniable ache that had been buried for many gaming years. He took a step forward, his armored boots clinking against the cobblestones, his normally steady heart pounding like a war drum. He had faced countless battles, slain mighty beasts, and shattered entire armies, but this moment — this single, unexpected reunion — shook him in a way no enemy ever could.
Before he could fully process the whirlwind of emotions flooding his heart, Elaria reached him. She didn't hesitate, her delicate, porcelain-white arms wrapping around his broad, armored chest as if she feared he might vanish if she let go. She buried her face against his chestplate, her slender frame trembling with a mix of relief and overwhelming happiness.
"Crimson... it's really you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his armor. "You're here... you came back."
Crimson felt his throat tighten, his usually calm, controlled exterior cracking under the weight of her words. He gently wrapped his powerful arms around her, careful not to crush her delicate form, his gauntleted hand resting protectively on her back.
"I'm here," he replied, his voice rougher than he intended, thick with a thousand unspoken feelings. "I'm here, Elaria."
For a long, breathless moment, they simply held each other, standing in the middle of the bustling street as the world moved around them. The elven guards, the curious onlookers, even the rushing wind seemed to pause, as if the very realm of Alariel itself recognized the significance of this reunion.
Slowly, Elaria pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes, her sapphire gaze shimmering with unshed tears, her lips trembling as a radiant, tearful smile broke across her flawless face.
"I thought... I thought I'd never see you again," she admitted, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. "Fifty years... you've been gone for fifty long years."
Crimson reached up, his armored hand gently brushing a stray lock of silver hair from her face, his crimson eyes meeting hers with an intensity that spoke of battles fought and promises kept.
"I'm sorry for making you wait," he said, his voice low but filled with a warmth that was rarely heard from him. "I'm here now... and I'm not going anywhere."
Elaria's tears finally spilled over, shimmering like droplets of starlight as they traced delicate paths down her flawless cheeks. She leaned into his touch, her fingers tightening against his armor as if anchoring herself to this moment.
"I... I missed you," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as the full weight of her emotions crashed over her.
Crimson's heart swelled at her words, the icy walls he had built around his emotions over many years of war and conflict melting away in an instant. He leaned down, his forehead gently touching hers, their breaths mingling as the world around them seemed to fade into a soft, silvery glow.
"I missed you too," he whispered back, his deep voice tinged with a rare, unguarded tenderness.
For that one, perfect moment, it was as if the years of separation, the battles, the pain, and the longing had all been washed away, leaving only the undeniable, unbreakable bond that had grown between them.
Elaria's slender, trembling fingers reached up, her sapphire eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief as she gently grasped the sides of Crimson's dark, imposing helmet. She hesitated for a heartbeat, her breath catching in her throat, before slowly lifting the heavy helm from his head.
As the polished, battle-worn metal slid free, a cascade of black hair spilled out, catching the soft, dappled sunlight filtering through the ancient, white-stone streets of Vanima. His sharp, chiseled features were revealed to her once again, the same strikingly handsome face she had longed to see for fifty long years. His fierce, intense eyes, framed by his wild, windswept hair, met her gaze, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to hold its breath.
Gasps echoed from the nearby guards and passing citizens who had gathered to witness the scene. The elves, known for their ethereal beauty and elegance, could not hide their surprise. Crimson's features, rugged and battle-hardened yet strikingly handsome, carried a fierce, otherworldly allure that even the proudest of elven nobles could not deny.
"Is that... him?" one of the guards murmured, his eyes wide with awe.
"I had heard the stories... but to see him in person..." another whispered, his hand instinctively moving to his chest in a gesture of respect.
The onlookers, both soldiers and civilians alike, felt a strange, almost instinctual urge to bow, as if in the presence of a living legend.
Elaria, still holding his helmet in her trembling hands, felt a tear slip down her flawless, porcelain cheek as she stared into the eyes of the man she had waited for, dreamed of, and longed to see for half a century.
"Crimson..." she whispered, her voice choked with raw emotion, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that it felt as if the world itself must hear it. "Where... where have you been? Why did you leave me for fifty years?"
Crimson's intense gaze softened for a moment, his fierce, battle-hardened expression melting into a look of quiet, unspoken regret. He reached up, gently cupping her delicate face with his calloused, battle-worn hand, his thumb brushing away the single tear that had escaped her shimmering sapphire eyes.
"I'm sorry, Elaria," he said, his deep, resonant voice filled with a rare, genuine warmth that he showed to no one else. "I will tell you everything... I promise. But not here, not now."
Elaria's brows furrowed slightly, her heart clenching with a mix of relief and confusion as she searched his eyes for answers.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched his armored chest, the cool metal pressing against her soft, delicate palms. "Why can't you stay? Why can't you tell me now?"
Crimson's jaw tightened for a brief moment, his eyes flicking to the distant, mist-shrouded mountains in the west, where the border between the Heartless Republic and the Holy Remia Empire lay.
"There's something urgent I need to take care of," he said, his voice low and steady, each word carrying the weight of unspoken burdens. "Something is happening at the western border, near the Holy Remia Empire. I need to investigate it."
Elaria's grip tightened on his armor, her heart aching with the fear of losing him once again. But she knew him too well, knew the unshakable resolve in his eyes, the unbreakable will of a warrior who had faced countless battles and never once turned his back on his duty.
"Then..." she whispered, her voice trembling but filled with the quiet strength of a woman who had endured decades of longing and heartache, "will you at least stay the night? Will you let me have this one evening with you, before you go?"
Crimson's intense eyes softened once more, the fierce, unyielding warrior within him momentarily silenced by the raw, unguarded plea of the woman he had once sworn to protect.
"I will," he said, his deep voice a quiet, unbreakable promise. "I'll stay."
Elaria's lips trembled into a small, relieved smile, her sapphire eyes shimmering with a mix of joy and unspoken longing as she slowly, gently leaned her head against his broad, armored chest. The distant sounds of the bustling city faded into a soft, muffled hum as she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth and strength of the man she had never stopped loving.
Around them, the gathered guards and curious citizens slowly lowered their heads, a silent, reverent gesture to the reunion of their beloved princess and the legendary warrior who had once saved their entire realm.