I followed Aeloria down the grand staircase, each step resonating with a peculiar blend of wonder and foreboding. The staircase itself was a marvel—spiraling gracefully, as though it defied the very rules of architecture. The steps were made of a luminescent stone that glowed softly beneath our feet, casting an ethereal, silvery light that made me feel like we were descending into another world. A world where the line between reality and fantasy was blurred, where anything seemed possible.
The walls were lined with elaborate tapestries, fluttering slightly as if stirred by an unseen breeze. They depicted scenes from Feywild mythology—courtly dances, ancient battles under twin moons, mythical creatures that seemed almost alive as the light played across their intricate designs. The colors shifted subtly, creating an illusion of motion and life that made me wonder if these tapestries were more than just art—maybe they were living history.
As we descended, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was dreaming. The grandeur of the hall we entered took my breath away. Above us, a dome of sparkling crystal refracted light into a dazzling array of colors that danced across the room. It was like standing inside a giant prism, where every movement sent cascades of light swirling around us. Massive columns, intricately carved with twisting vines and delicate flowers, reached toward the sky, their surfaces glowing with a soft, enchanting light. The floor was paved with smooth tiles, cool but almost warm underfoot, reflecting the light in a mesmerizing pattern.
The air was filled with the scent of exotic flowers and something sweet—like honey mixed with fresh rain. It was a fragrance that seemed to cling to everything in the Feywild, wrapping around me like a comforting shroud. The gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of a stream created a peaceful melody that accompanied our steps.
Aeloria moved with a grace that was both mesmerizing and intimidating. Her gown, a flowing cascade of iridescent silk, billowed behind her like a veil of living moonlight. It shimmered with every step, emphasizing her otherworldly beauty. Her dark hair cascaded in glossy waves, catching the light and framing her face with an almost ethereal glow. I couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in this world of enchantment, a stark contrast to her regal elegance.
“So… you really are a princess, then?” I ventured, trying to break the icy silence between us. My voice sounded tentative, as if I were treading carefully on a fragile line. I wanted to bridge the gap between us, to find some common ground in this surreal experience.
Aeloria stopped abruptly and turned to face me. Her expression was a mix of amusement, irritation, and something else I couldn’t quite place. Her emerald eyes, deep and intense, seemed to hold a storm of emotions just beneath the surface. “Yes, Gabriel,” she said, her tone sharp. “I am a princess. I realize that might be hard for someone like you to grasp.”
I forced a smile, though it felt out of place against her regal demeanor. “Yeah, not exactly used to mingling with royalty. Kind of a stretch from my usual bar scene,” I said, hoping a bit of humor might lighten the mood. But my voice wavered slightly, betraying my discomfort.
“Bar scene?” Aeloria’s voice dripped with disdain. “You mean that place where you drown yourself in cheap liquor and snack on stale peanuts?”
I winced at her words. “Well, when you put it like that…” I tried to laugh it off, but it came out more as a nervous chuckle.
She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of curiosity—or maybe sympathy. “You don’t seem like a man of substance,” she said, her tone softening just a little. The words hung between us, heavy and pointed.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Substance?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Look, I’m not trying to impress you. Compared to your—what?—centuries of experience, I’m definitely out of my depth.” I gestured vaguely around us, feeling my frustration rise. “Even a toddler with a glue stick could probably make better life choices than I have.”
The tension in the air was palpable, and for a brief moment, Aeloria’s lips twitched as if she might smile. The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “You seem to take pride in putting yourself down,” she said quietly. “But that won’t help you here, especially in your… new role.”
The word “husband” hung in the air like a lead weight. My face grew hot, and a knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. “You’ve painted a pretty bleak picture of my future,” I said, trying to joke despite the seriousness of our situation. “Drinking too much, sulking, and being a burden to everyone—sounds like a real winner.”
“Would you rather be a hero?” Aeloria’s tone sharpened, but there was a challenge in her eyes—maybe even a touch of empathy. “Or do you enjoy playing the underdog?”
“Underdog? That’s generous,” I scoffed, though there was truth in her words. I’d always felt like I was battling my own chaos. “I just don’t want to make things worse.”
“It’s already a mess,” she said, frustration echoing my own. “But whether we like it or not, we’re bound to each other now.”
Her eyes softened for a moment, and I glimpsed a vulnerability beneath her royal façade. Maybe she was struggling with this entanglement too, grappling with her own set of expectations and disappointments. The thought made me feel a strange sense of camaraderie, as if we were both trapped in the same web of fate.
“Alright, what’s next?” I asked, trying to shift the mood with a hint of humor. “Do I need armor? I can create a sword with my ability. Should I start practicing my royal wave?” I attempted a mock royal wave, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.
Aeloria remained serious, but I caught a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Training,” she said, crossing her arms and taking on a more authoritative stance. “You need to learn quickly.”
“Training, huh?” I said, reluctantly accepting the reality. “Guess it’s time to channel my inner warrior. Been a long time coming, I suppose.”
“More like overdue, like last week’s milk,” Aeloria shot back with a teasing smile. The playful banter was a welcome contrast to the tension that had been building between us, and I found myself slowly understanding her better.
“Alright, tell me where to start,” I said, feeling a flicker of determination. “What’s first on the agenda?”
“Perhaps a wake-up call,” she suggested, her eyes gleaming with a challenge. “We’ll start with a spar. All you have to do is lay hands on me.” She let her robe fall to the ground, revealing a delicate frame wrapped in light, ethereal fabric. The sight was both mesmerizing and intimidating, a glimpse of her true power.
“Lay hands on you? Seriously?” I protested, though a part of me was intrigued. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”
“Cliché or not, it works,” she countered, her stance light and ready, arms spread as if inviting me into her world. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Get ready, Gabriel. Let’s see if you can rise to the occasion.”
As I stood there, a mixture of fear and excitement bubbled up inside me. The absurdity of the situation was overwhelming, but beneath it, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe this was the beginning of something new, something that could change everything. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the challenge. This was my moment—a chance to prove myself, to step out of my chaotic past and into a role that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Aeloria’s eyes held a challenge that seemed to pierce through me. She was poised, ready for the trial she had set before me, her confidence both inspiring and daunting. Her presence was a beacon in this strange world, guiding me through the fog of uncertainty clouding my mind.
I glanced around, taking in the intricate details of the space. The walls seemed to close in, creating an intimate arena for our impending clash. The air was thick with anticipation, each breath I took tinged with the faint scent of flowers. The distant murmur of the stream was a soothing counterpoint to the tension.
Aeloria took a few steps back, her movements fluid and graceful. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. Her gaze was steady, her posture poised, and I could feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on me.
I nodded, my resolve hardening. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, trying to summon the courage I felt slipping away. “Let’s do this.”