Late afternoon sunlight painted the capital in shades of amber and gold as the arena emptied. The tournament crowds dispersed to inns and taverns, already debating what they'd witnessed—crimson and violet flames, legends made real, impossible power demonstrated by fifteen-year-old warriors.
But for those directly involved, the day wasn't over. Processing what had been revealed would take more than a few hours' reflection.
In one of the arena's private reception rooms—spaces reserved for nobility and honored guests—an unexpected meeting was taking shape. The Valebright and Blackthorn families, drawn together by what they'd witnessed, by what was developing between their children whether either family was quite ready to acknowledge it.
King Aldric had extended the invitation, and Baron Dorian had accepted with understanding. Some conversations required privacy.
The room was comfortable without being ostentatious—chairs arranged in a loose circle, windows overlooking the arena grounds, refreshments provided but largely ignored. Queen Seraphina sat beside her husband, their sons flanking them. Across, Dorian and Elara settled in with Lucien standing slightly behind, warrior's habit making him uncomfortable sitting while discussing serious matters.
For a long moment, no one quite knew how to begin. Finally, Seraphina broke the silence with characteristic directness.
"Your son is remarkable," she said, meeting Elara's eyes. "That fight... I've never seen anything like it. The way he controlled that crimson flame, the way he read Alice's techniques—it was extraordinary."
Elara's expression warmed despite the tension. "Your daughter is equally exceptional. That violet flame..." She paused, searching for words. "Beautiful doesn't quite capture it. Divine, perhaps. Watching her wield legendary power with such confidence—you should be very proud."
"We are," Aldric said quietly. "Though I admit, seeing it manifested in combat rather than just reported in debriefings was... sobering. That much power in one so young."
"Same with crimson," Dorian agreed. "Adrian's carried it since the ambush, but today was the first time he showed its full extent publicly. Watching him fight with that kind of control, that level of tactical awareness..." He shook his head. "I don't know where it comes from. He's always been exceptional, but today was beyond what training alone should produce."
"Prodigy?" Theon suggested.
"Perhaps," Lucien said thoughtfully. "Or the crimson flame itself enhances his capabilities somehow. The way he moved—reading Princess Alice's techniques, anticipating her combinations—it was like he'd fought violet flame before despite that being impossible."
"The flame could grant heightened awareness," Cedric offered, scholarly mind working through possibilities. "Ancient texts mention some spirit manifestations enhancing the bearer's natural abilities beyond the purely physical."
"Whatever the source," Dorian said firmly, "he's demonstrated he can control it. Use it honorably. That's what matters."
The room fell quiet as everyone processed that statement. Finally, Aldric spoke:
"And yet he saved my daughter's life. Used that unprecedented power to protect others during the demon ambush. Whatever the source of his capabilities, he's demonstrated honor in how he employs them."
"That matters," Seraphina added. "Power without character is dangerous. Power with honor..." She smiled slightly. "That's something worth supporting."
"Speaking of support," Elara said, her tone shifting to something warmer, almost amused. "We should probably address what else we all observed today."
"The fight?" Dorian asked innocently.
"The conversation before the fight," Seraphina corrected, matching Elara's tone. "And the moment after. The way they looked at each other."
Aldric sighed. "Must we?"
"Yes," both queens said simultaneously, then laughed.
"They're fifteen," Aldric protested. "Barely old enough to—"
"Old enough to fight demons," Theon interrupted. "Old enough to reveal unprecedented power in front of the entire kingdom. Probably old enough to sort out their own feelings."
"When did you become the voice of reason?" Aldric demanded.
"When I watched them together," Theon replied. "Before the match, during their conversation—that wasn't just respect between warriors. That was genuine connection."
"Connection is one thing," Aldric said. "But we're discussing the princess of Arathor and a baron's son who wields potentially demonic flame that might grant supernatural abilities. This is complicated."
"All important things are complicated," Seraphina reminded him gently. "And your concern about status rings hollow when you've spent decades promoting merit over birth."
"He's also the son who saved our daughter's life," Cedric added. "That creates obligation. Or opportunity, depending on perspective."
Elara shifted slightly, her expression thoughtful. "I'm not certain we have much say in the matter regardless. Adrian's always been... independent. If he's developed feelings for Alice—and I think he has—forbidding it would only make things more complicated."
"Same with Alice," Seraphina agreed. "She's never responded to anyone the way she responds to Adrian. Comfortable, honest, willing to be vulnerable. That's rare for her."
"So what are you suggesting?" Aldric asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
"That we don't interfere," Seraphina said simply. "They're both exceptional young people who've survived things that would break most adults. If something's developing between them, we trust they'll handle it maturely."
"And if it becomes serious?" Aldric pressed.
"Then we'll address that when it happens," Dorian said pragmatically. "Right now, they're fifteen-year-olds processing unprecedented public revelation of their powers. Romance is probably not their immediate priority."
"You'd be surprised," Lucien muttered, earning looks from both families. "What? I've seen how Adrian looks at her when he thinks no one's paying attention. It's definitely on his mind."
"Wonderful," Aldric said dryly.
"It could be worse," Elara offered. "He could be cruel, or cowardly, or incompetent. Instead he's brave, skilled, and honorable. If my son had to develop feelings for someone, the princess of Arathor who wields legendary violet flame and survived demons beside him is... not the worst choice."
"High praise," Seraphina said with amusement.
"Practical assessment," Elara corrected, but smiled.
The conversation continued—families processing not just what had been revealed about flames and power, but what might be developing between their children. Both sets of parents wrestling with the reality that Adrian and Alice had proven themselves capable of making their own choices, even if those choices created complicated political and personal dynamics.
Finally, as evening shadows lengthened, Aldric stood.
"Whatever else happens, we're agreed that both our children demonstrated exceptional capability today. They've earned the right to sort out their own relationships without excessive parental interference."
"Agreed," Dorian said, rising as well. "Though I reserve the right to provide advice if asked."
"As do I," Aldric replied.
The families departed with new understanding—not quite alliance, not quite friendship, but mutual respect forged through shared concern for remarkable children navigating impossible circumstances.
Elsewhere in the capital, in a quiet garden attached to the arena complex, Adrian and Alice had found each other without planning to. Both had sought solitude to process the day's events. Finding each other instead felt oddly appropriate.
They sat on a stone bench beneath an old oak tree, evening light filtering through leaves, the sounds of the celebrating capital distant enough to ignore.
For a while, neither spoke. Just sat together, processing everything that revealing their flames meant.
Finally, Alice broke the silence.
"I can't believe we actually did it. Just... manifested them immediately. No hesitation."
"We promised each other honesty," Adrian reminded her. "Holding back would have been insulting."
"True. Though I'm not sure I expected it to feel so..." She paused, searching for words. "Exposing? Like everyone could see not just the flame but everything behind it."
"I know what you mean." Adrian's voice was quiet. "Showing crimson meant showing that I'm carrying something I don't fully understand myself. That I'm not just a normal fifteen-year-old with unusual flame."
"You're definitely not normal," Alice agreed, but her tone was warm rather than critical. "The way you fought—Adrian, that wasn't just training. You moved like someone who'd done this a thousand times before."
"Sometimes it feels like I have," he admitted carefully, not quite revealing the full truth of his reincarnated memories. "Like the techniques come from somewhere deeper than just practice. The crimson flame... I think it gives me more than just power."
"Enhanced awareness?" Alice asked. "My brother Cedric mentioned that some ancient texts describe spirit manifestations that augment natural abilities."
"Something like that. Or maybe I'm just naturally talented and overthinking it." He smiled slightly. "Either way, you still pushed me harder than anyone else in this tournament. That violet flame is incredible."
"And yet you never made me feel inadequate," Alice said. "Even while beating me, you made it feel like I'd genuinely challenged you. Made it honest."
"You did challenge me. Another few years of training and I think you'd win."
"Another few years and maybe you won't have quite such mysterious advantages," she countered, but smiled.
They fell into comfortable silence again. The kind that came from genuine ease with each other rather than awkward uncertainty.
"Our families are probably discussing us right now," Alice observed eventually. "Analyzing what they saw. Making plans."
"Definitely. My mother gets this look when she's drawing conclusions. Saw it today from the stands."
"My mother too. The satisfied one, like she predicted this months ago."
"Did she?"
Alice laughed softly. "Probably. She's annoyingly perceptive about these things."
"These things?"
"You know what I mean." Alice's voice was quieter now, more uncertain. "Whatever this is developing between us."
Adrian was quiet for a moment, gray eyes studying the garden rather than looking at her directly. "Is something developing? Or am I reading more into comfortable friendship than exists?"
"Something's developing," Alice confirmed, and there was courage in admitting it. "I'm not entirely sure what yet. But when I was standing in that circle preparing to fight you, I wasn't just nervous about revealing violet flame. I was nervous about hurting you. About what you'd think of me after."
"I think you're exceptional," Adrian said simply. "Brave, skilled, honest. Someone who survived demons and kept fighting. Someone who manifests legendary power and uses it with honor. What's not to admire?"
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple. Nothing about this is simple." Adrian finally looked at her. "You're the princess. I'm a baron's son with potentially demonic flame that might enhance my abilities in ways I don't understand. Our families are probably having very complicated discussions right now about political implications."
"Probably," Alice agreed. "Does that matter to you?"
"Should it?"
"I'm asking what you think, not what should be."
Adrian was quiet, processing. "It matters in the sense that I'm aware of the complications. But it doesn't change how I feel. You're the first person who's made me feel like I could be honest about what I'm carrying. Who I could show the crimson to without worrying you'd see me differently."
"I do see you differently," Alice said. "Just... not worse. More real, maybe. More human despite the supernatural aspects. You're carrying impossible things and still trying to do right by people. That's..." She paused. "That's remarkable."
"You're one to talk. Manifesting violet flame and still worrying about whether you're good enough. Still pushing yourself to improve rather than resting on legendary power."
"We're quite the pair," Alice said with slight amusement. "Two unprecedented flame bearers with identity issues and complicated families."
"At least we're honest with each other about it."
"There is that."
They sat together as evening deepened toward night, neither quite ready to name what was developing but both comfortable acknowledging it existed. Whatever complicated dynamics their families navigated, whatever political implications arose, this moment was theirs—honest, simple, real.
Finally, Alice stood, offering her hand to help Adrian up.
"We should probably head back before our families send search parties. Or worse, draw conclusions about where we've been."
"Too late for that second one," Adrian said, but took her hand.
They stood there for a moment, hands still clasped, neither quite pulling away. Then Alice released his hand with visible reluctance.
"Tomorrow's the final," she said quietly. "Three-way match. Mira and Gareth are both formidable."
"I know. Should be interesting."
"You'll win." Not a question, just confidence.
"Maybe. Depends on how alliances form. Three-way fights are unpredictable."
"Then I'll watch and hope for unpredictability that favors you." She paused, then added with slight awkwardness, "I should get back to where we're staying. My family's probably wondering."
"Let me walk you back," Adrian offered. "Evening's getting dark, and..." He trailed off, not quite able to articulate that he simply wanted more time with her.
Alice's smile warmed. "I'd like that."
They left the garden together, walking through the arena complex toward the royal quarter where the Valebrights had been accommodated. The capital's streets were quieter now, evening settling into night, lanterns being lit along major thoroughfares.
For the first few minutes, they walked in comfortable silence. Then Adrian became acutely aware of how close their hands were as they walked—swinging naturally at their sides, occasionally brushing against each other with each step.
The first brush was accidental. So was the second. By the third, Adrian was hyper-aware of every movement, every potential contact.
Alice didn't pull away. Didn't adjust her distance. If anything, she seemed to be walking slightly closer than necessary.
The fourth time their hands touched, Adrian made a decision. Before he could overthink it, before nervousness could stop him, he let his hand catch hers. Not dramatically. Not with obvious intention. Just... naturally, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.
His heart hammered. Part of him expected Alice to pull away, to politely extract her hand, to acknowledge the gesture but indicate it was too soon.
She didn't.
Her fingers curled around his, returning the gentle pressure. Her hand was smaller than his, warmer, fitting into his grip like it belonged there.
They kept walking, neither commenting on it, neither making it into something awkward by acknowledging it aloud. Just two fifteen-year-olds walking through evening streets, hands clasped, processing a day that had changed everything.
"This is nice," Alice said eventually, her voice quiet.
"It is," Adrian agreed.
"Should probably be more concerned about propriety. Princess holding hands with baron's son in public streets."
"Probably. Are you concerned?"
"Not even slightly." She squeezed his hand. "After fighting demons and revealing legendary flame, I think I've earned the right to hold someone's hand if I want to."
"Sound logic."
"I thought so."
They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, hands still clasped, both acutely aware of the simple intimacy of it. Nothing dramatic. Nothing overwhelming. Just honest connection after a day of revealing hidden truths.
Too soon, they reached the guest quarters where the Valebright family had been housed—an elegant building near the palace, befitting royalty. Lanterns lit the entrance, guards standing discrete watch.
They stopped at the entrance, neither quite ready to let go.
"Thank you for walking me back," Alice said.
"Thank you for letting me."
She looked at their joined hands, then back up at him, something uncertain but hopeful in her expression. "Tomorrow, after the final—"
"We'll figure out what this is," Adrian finished. "Together."
"Together," she agreed.
They stood there another moment, hands still clasped. Then, with visible reluctance, Alice slowly pulled her hand free.
"Good luck tomorrow. Not that you'll need it."
"I'll take the luck anyway."
She smiled—genuine, warm, perhaps a bit shy—then turned toward the entrance. Adrian watched her go, his hand still tingling where hers had been, processing the simple fact that Alice Valebright, princess of Arathor, bearer of violet flame, had held his hand through half the capital and hadn't wanted to let go.
He was halfway back to the competitor lodgings when he realized he was grinning like an idiot.
Three centuries of memories, and somehow this felt like the most significant moment of any of them.
Alice entered the guest quarters still processing the feeling of Adrian's hand in hers, the comfortable silence they'd shared, the simple rightness of walking together.
She made it approximately ten steps into the entrance hall before running directly into her entire family.
All of them. Father, mother, both brothers. Standing in the main sitting room as though they'd been waiting. Which, given the knowing expressions, they absolutely had been.
"Alice!" Seraphina's voice carried warmth and barely suppressed amusement. "We were just wondering when you'd return."
"I was just... processing. The match. Needed some air." Alice was acutely aware that her cheeks were probably red.
"Alone?" Theon asked innocently. Too innocently.
"Yes. Alone. In a garden. Thinking."
"Interesting," Cedric observed. "Because one of the guards mentioned seeing you walking back with someone. Holding hands, in fact."
Alice closed her eyes. Of course the guards had seen. Of course they'd reported to her family. Privacy was apparently a luxury princesses didn't get.
"It wasn't—we were just—he walked me back because it was getting dark—"
"Alice," Aldric said, and his tone was gentler than she'd expected. "You don't need to explain or justify. We're not upset."
She opened her eyes, surprised. "You're not?"
"Should we be?" Seraphina asked. "You held hands with a young man who saved your life, who you clearly care for, after revealing unprecedented power together. Seems perfectly reasonable."
"Mother..."
"What? I'm simply observing facts." Seraphina's smile was warm. "Though I am curious what you two discussed. Beyond hand-holding, I mean."
Alice felt her cheeks burning hotter. "Can we not have this conversation right now?"
"We absolutely can have this conversation right now," Theon said with unholy glee. "My little sister holding hands with the crimson flame bearer. This is excellent."
"It's not—we're not—it's complicated—"
"All important things are," Aldric said, echoing his earlier conversation with the Blackthorns. "But Alice, if you're developing feelings for Adrian Blackthorn, that's your choice to make. We trust your judgment."
Alice stared at her father. "You do?"
"You survived demons. Manifested legendary flame. Proved yourself capable beyond question. Yes, we trust your judgment about your own heart." He paused. "Though I reserve the right to be protective and ask uncomfortable questions."
"All fathers do," Cedric added helpfully.
"This is mortifying," Alice muttered.
"This is family," Seraphina corrected. "And we're genuinely happy to see you happy. You've been smiling since you came in—actually smiling, not the polite court smile. That's worth celebrating."
Alice wanted to protest further, but looking at her family's expressions—genuine care mixed with amusement, concern balanced with support—she felt the tension ease.
"Fine. Yes. I held hands with Adrian. Yes, I like him. Yes, something's developing between us. Happy?"
"Ecstatic," Theon said with a grin. "When do we get to give him the intimidating family talk?"
"Never," Alice said firmly. "Absolutely never."
"Tomorrow then?" Cedric suggested innocently.
"I hate all of you."
"No you don't," Seraphina said warmly, moving to pull her daughter into a hug. "You love us. And we love you. And we support whatever makes you happy."
Alice returned the hug, feeling the day's emotional weight finally settling. "Thank you. Even if you're all terrible."
"We prefer 'lovingly invested,'" Aldric offered.
As Alice finally escaped to her rooms, she could hear her brothers already planning how they'd "accidentally" run into Adrian tomorrow. Could hear her parents discussing with quiet satisfaction how well things were developing.
She should probably be more mortified. Should probably be concerned about propriety and politics and complications.
Instead, she was just thinking about how Adrian's hand had felt in hers. How natural it had been. How right.
Tomorrow was the final match. But tonight, she'd just be fifteen and happy about holding hands with someone she cared for.
That was enough.
Meanwhile, Adrian returned to the competitor lodgings still processing the evening. Finn took one look at his expression and started laughing.
"You held her hand."
"How did you—"
"You're grinning like you just won the tournament. Either you held her hand or discovered the secret to eternal life."
Adrian couldn't even deny it. "We held hands."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Details, Adrian. Did she initiate? Did you? Was there awkward hand-sweating?"
"I initiated. No awkwardness. She just... held my hand back. Like it was the most natural thing in the world."
Finn's amusement softened to something more genuine. "Good for you. Both of you. You deserve something uncomplicated and nice after everything."
"Nothing about this is uncomplicated."
"The hand-holding part is. That's what matters."
Adrian nodded slowly. Tomorrow would bring the final match, the complicated aftermath, discussions about unprecedented flames and what they meant. But tonight, he'd just think about Alice's hand in his, and how for those few minutes, everything had felt exactly right.
That was worth holding onto.