He had always known what she could become.
From the moment Saren stood beside him in the royal training halls, outwitting boys twice her age and cutting down noble pride with a single glance, Darian had seen the fire in her. She was fierce. Brilliant. Unrelenting.
And he had loved her for it.
But she never saw him.
Not truly.
Not like she saw the Duke.
---
When she chose Alric, it wasn't a dagger—it was a silence. She didn't say she loved him. She didn't owe him anything. But Darian, for all his restraint, had hoped she might at least hesitate.
She hadn't.
He stood now, by the Prince's side, sword at his hip and loyalty stitched into every breath. But that ache—it never quite left.
Now he watched from shadows. From council chambers and cold corridors. He saw the way Alric touched her hand, soft and reverent. The way she leaned into him in rare, unguarded moments.
It wasn't just a game anymore.
And that terrified him.
---
The Crown Prince summoned him that night.
"She's moving pieces," the Prince said, voice flat. "And your Duke is growing more popular by the hour."
Darian didn't flinch. "Then we should move faster."
There was a pause. Then a single question.
"Is your loyalty still whole, Darian?"
He didn't answer immediately. His mind wandered—to the sound of her laughter echoing through old stone walls, to the warmth of memories he had long buried.
And then he looked the Prince in the eyes.
"It is."
Because love, no matter how deep, was no excuse for betrayal.
---
In the quiet of his chamber, he opened the old letter she once gave him. The parchment was fading. The ink, smudged.
"If I ever fall, I hope you will be the one to catch me. Or stop me."
Maybe this was what she meant.
And maybe now, it was time.
......to be continued.....
Author's Note:
This chapter belongs to Darian—the boy who saw her before anyone else did. The one who loved her quietly, completely, and without expectation. His loyalty is sharp, but so is his heartbreak.
In stories like these, not all love is returned. Not all devotion is rewarded. Sometimes, the ones who stand in the shadows are the ones holding the line between ruin and redemption.
Let me know what you felt reading this—did Darian's ache reach you? Do you trust him, or fear what he might become?
Thank you for walking with me through these layered hearts.
—Always writing,
Your author