Chapter 26: Feelings He Could Not Name
King Araion stood alone in the highest tower of the castle.
He often did.
From here, he could see the whole kingdom—rooftops, fields, distant rivers. He had watched this land change for centuries. He had ruled through wars, peace, betrayal, and loss.
Yet tonight, his thoughts were not on the kingdom.
They were on Elara.
That troubled him.
He rested his hands on the stone railing, staring out at the dark sky. The wind tugged at his cloak, cold and sharp. He welcomed the cold. It helped him think.
Or at least, it used to.
"You are losing focus," he muttered to himself.
For a long time, Araion had believed feelings were dangerous. They led to mistakes. They led to loss. He had buried them long ago, locked them away with memories he refused to touch.
But Elara had changed something.
Without asking.
Without trying.
She had walked into his cursed world and made it… unfamiliar.
Earlier that day, he had watched her move through the gardens. She did not command. She did not demand respect. She listened. She noticed people.
And the crown responded to her as if it had always been waiting.
Araion closed his eyes.
This is foolish, he thought. She is the Chosen Queen. Nothing more.
Yet his heart did not listen.
He found himself worrying when she was silent. Watching when she walked among nobles. Standing closer than necessary when danger might appear.
He had protected kingdoms without blinking.
But protecting her felt different.
That frightened him.
A soft knock echoed behind him.
"My king," a guard said carefully. "She is in the lower hall."
Araion stiffened. "Doing what?"
"Speaking with the scholars," the guard replied.
Araion nodded. "I will come."
He did not know why his steps quickened.
The lower hall was quiet when he entered. Elara stood near a table, scrolls spread before her. She looked calm, focused.
She looked up when she sensed him.
"You're tense," she said.
He paused. "Am I?"
She smiled faintly. "Yes."
Araion frowned. "You are not supposed to notice that."
"I notice many things now," she replied gently.
That only made it worse.
He moved closer, keeping his voice neutral. "The crown's awakening has changed you."
"It has," she agreed. "But it hasn't changed who I am."
He studied her face, searching for signs of ambition. Hunger. Greed.
There were none.
That was the problem.
"You should rest," he said.
She tilted her head. "And you should stop pacing at night."
He froze.
"You know?" he asked.
She nodded. "The guards talk. Quietly."
Araion exhaled slowly. "I am not accustomed to… distraction."
Elara folded her hands. "Is that what I am?"
He hesitated too long.
"Yes," he said at last. "And that concerns me."
She did not look offended. Only thoughtful.
"You have lived a very long time," she said. "You learned to survive without letting anyone close."
"That was necessary," he replied.
"Was it?" she asked softly.
The question struck deeper than any blade.
Araion turned away. "You should be careful," he said. "People may misunderstand."
Elara stepped closer. "You are afraid."
He laughed once, dry and humorless. "I fear nothing."
"That's not true," she said calmly. "You fear losing control."
He turned sharply. "You know nothing of my burdens."
She met his gaze, steady and unafraid. "I know you carry them alone."
Silence filled the hall.
Araion felt something tighten in his chest.
For centuries, he had been king first. Always king. Never just a man.
Now, with Elara standing before him, he felt something crack.
"I cannot afford these feelings," he said quietly.
"What feelings?" she asked.
He searched for the word.
Concern did not fit.
Respect was too small.
Trust was close—but not enough.
"I don't know," he admitted.
The crown pulsed softly.
Elara watched him carefully. "You don't have to decide anything."
"That is what frightens me," he said. "I have always known what to do."
She smiled, kind and sad. "Maybe this isn't something to command."
Araion closed his eyes briefly.
"I swore never to let my heart rule me again," he said. "It cost me everything once."
Elara's voice softened. "I'm not asking you to rule with it. Only to feel."
He looked at her then—not as king to queen—but as a man facing something unknown.
"Feelings make me weak," he said.
"No," she replied. "They make you human."
The word echoed painfully.
Human.
Something he had not allowed himself to be in a very long time.
Footsteps echoed in the distance. Araion straightened.
"This conversation ends here," he said firmly.
Elara nodded. "Of course."
But as she turned to leave, she paused.
"You don't have to face this alone," she said over her shoulder. "Not anymore."
She left the hall.
Araion remained standing there long after.
That night, he returned to the tower.
But the cold no longer helped.
For the first time in centuries, King Araion understood something terrifying:
The crown was not the only thing awakening.
So was his heart.
And unlike magic, feelings could not be controlled, sealed, or cursed away.
They had already found him.