**Chapter 4: Dawn Rides and Quiet Confessions**
Dawn broke over the palace stables in soft pinks and golds, the air cool and smelling of dew-kissed grass and leather. I arrived early—nervous habit from my old life—and found Elias already there, saddling a magnificent white stallion with steady hands. He looked up when he heard my footsteps, and for a split second his face softened in a way that made my chest tighten.
"You're early," he said, almost smiling.
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. Valerian's silver hair was tied back loosely; it still felt weird how effortlessly elegant this body made everything look. "Figured I'd beat the sunrise."
He nodded toward a sleek black mare nearby, already saddled. "She's yours for today. Gentle, but fast when she wants to be."
I approached the horse carefully, stroking her neck. She nickered softly. "Thanks. I... haven't ridden much." (Understatement. My real-world experience was limited to a pony ride at a fair when I was ten.)
Elias mounted his stallion in one smooth motion. "You'll manage. Follow me."
We rode out through the palace gates and into the royal hunting woods beyond. The path was narrow at first, trees arching overhead like a green cathedral, sunlight filtering through leaves in golden shafts. Birds called lazily; the world felt new, untouched.
For a while we rode in silence—companionable, not awkward. I focused on not falling off, but the mare was steady, and Valerian's body knew the rhythm instinctively. Elias glanced back every so often, checking on me without making it obvious.
Eventually the path widened into a misty meadow. He slowed, letting our horses walk side by side.
"You ride well," he said quietly. "Better than I expected."
"Muscle memory," I replied, half-truth. "This body knows things my mind doesn't."
He looked at me sidelong. "You talk about yourself like you're two people sometimes."
I hesitated. The system had warned me not to spill the beans, but the morning felt too peaceful for full lies. "Maybe I am. The old Valerian... he was angry. Bitter. Always fighting for something he thought he deserved. I woke up yesterday and realized none of it mattered. Not the power, not the fear I made people feel. It was all... empty."
Elias was quiet for a long stretch. Our horses' hooves thudded softly on the earth.
"I used to think you enjoyed it," he said finally. "The cruelty. The games."
"I thought I did too," I murmured. "Turns out I was just scared. Of being nothing. Of being forgotten."
He turned his head fully now, emerald eyes searching my face. "And now?"
"Now I just want... to not hurt anyone anymore. Especially not you."
The words slipped out softer than intended. His breath caught—just barely.
We reached a small clearing with a clear stream running through it. Elias dismounted first, tying his horse to a low branch. I followed, legs a little shaky from the ride (or maybe from the conversation).
He sat on a flat rock by the water, patting the space beside him. I joined him, close enough that our shoulders almost brushed.
"You surprise me every day," he said, staring at the rippling stream. "I keep waiting for the mask to crack. For the old Valerian to laugh and say it was all a joke."
"I'm not joking," I told him. "I don't know how long this... second chance lasts. But while I have it, I want to use it right."
He turned to me then—really turned. The morning light caught in his golden hair, made his eyes glow like summer leaves. "What does 'right' look like to you?"
I swallowed. "Starting with being honest. With you. With myself. And maybe... earning your trust. Even if it takes forever."
A small, genuine smile curved his lips—not the polite court one, but something warmer, rarer. "Forever is a long time, Valerian."
"I'm patient," I said, matching his quiet tone. "When it's worth it."
Our gazes held. The air between us felt charged, like the moment before a storm—electric, inevitable. Neither of us moved closer, but neither pulled away.
A bird trilled overhead, breaking the spell just enough.
Elias exhaled, looking back at the water. "I don't know what to make of you anymore."
"That's okay," I replied softly. "I'm still figuring it out myself."
We sat there until the sun climbed higher, talking about small things—favorite childhood stories, the best places to escape the court, how he secretly hated formal banquets as much as I did now. No grand declarations. No rushed touches. Just... time. Shared.
When we finally remounted to head back, he rode closer than before. Our knees brushed once or twice—accidental, maybe not.
As the palace came into view, he spoke again, voice low so only I could hear.
"Tomorrow. Same time. If you want."
I looked at him—really looked—and felt something settle in my chest. Warm. Steady.
"I want."
System: [Favorability +25. Current: +60 (Affection → Budding Attachment). Plot deviation increasing. Romance Route solidifying. No penalties applied—yet. Enjoy the burn, host. It's working.]
We parted at the stables with nothing more than a lingering look and a quiet "See you tomorrow."
But as I walked back to my chambers, heart lighter than it had any right to be, I knew:
The villain wasn't just surviving.
He was falling.
And maybe—just maybe—the prince was too.