**Chapter 5: Shadows of the Past**
The next dawn came too soon—or maybe not soon enough. I barely slept again, replaying yesterday's quiet moments by the stream. Elias's small smile. The way his voice softened when he asked if I wanted to ride again. It felt dangerously real, like the lines between "surviving the plot" and actually *wanting* this were blurring.
I arrived at the stables to find Elias waiting, but he wasn't alone this time.
A tall, imposing figure stood beside him—Duke Reginald Voss, my (Valerian's) father. Broad-shouldered, silver hair streaked with iron gray, the same piercing red eyes that now stared at me with cold calculation. Beside him was Lady Seraphina Voss, my mother: elegant, raven-haired (a family trait from her side), dressed in deep crimson velvet even at this hour, her expression a perfect mask of aristocratic poise. They looked every bit the powerful noble couple who'd raised a monster.
Elias noticed me first. "Valerian. Good morning."
My parents turned. Reginald's gaze raked over me like I was a disappointing investment. "Son. We heard you've been... occupied lately. Sparring with the prince. Dining in his chambers. Riding at dawn."
Seraphina's lips curved faintly—amused, perhaps, or calculating. "The court whispers, darling. They say you've gone soft. Or mad."
I forced a calm smile, channeling every ounce of composure Valerian's body had. "Good morning, Father. Mother. I didn't expect company."
Reginald snorted. "Nor did we expect our heir to play lapdog to the crown prince. What game is this?"
Elias stepped forward smoothly, voice even. "No game, Duke Reginald. Your son has proven himself capable—and honorable—in recent days. I invited him to ride because I enjoy his company."
Seraphina arched a perfect brow. "Honorable? That's a new word for Valerian."
I met her eyes—red like mine, but colder. In the novel, the Voss family was ruthless: Reginald schemed for power, Seraphina manipulated alliances through charm and poison (figurative and literal). They'd raised Valerian to be their weapon, praising his cruelty, punishing weakness. No wonder the original guy turned out so twisted.
But I wasn't him.
"I changed," I said simply. "Or I'm trying to. The old ways weren't working."
Reginald laughed—short, harsh. "Changed? Because you lost one spar and smiled at the prince? Don't be naive, boy. The crown will use you until you're no longer convenient, then discard you like the rest."
Elias's jaw tightened, but he kept his tone polite. "With respect, Duke, I don't discard allies. Or friends."
"**Friends**," Reginald echoed mockingly. "Charming."
Seraphina placed a gloved hand on her husband's arm. "Let them ride, Reginald. Perhaps the boy will come to his senses when the novelty wears off." She looked at me then—really looked. For a flicker, something almost like curiosity crossed her face. "Or perhaps not."
They departed without another word, Reginald's boots echoing like judgments down the stone path.
Elias exhaled slowly once they were gone. "Your parents are... intense."
"Understatement," I muttered, mounting my black mare. "They think kindness is a weakness. And weakness gets you killed—or worse, ignored."
We rode out in silence at first, the forest path familiar now. But the weight of that encounter lingered.
After a while, Elias spoke. "They raised you to be like them."
"Yeah. And I was. For a long time." I glanced at him. "But waking up... realizing I could choose different? It hit hard. I don't want their approval anymore. I want—"
I stopped. Too close to dangerous territory.
Elias slowed his horse, forcing mine to match pace. "Want what?"
I looked ahead, at the sunlight breaking through trees. "To be someone worth trusting. Worth... more than fear."
He was quiet. Then: "You already are. To me."
My heart stuttered. I risked a glance—his expression was open, unguarded in the soft dawn light. No crown prince mask. Just Elias.
"I don't know how to do this," I admitted quietly. "Be... good. Be close to someone without an agenda."
"You don't need an agenda with me," he said. "Just be here. Like this."
We reached the same meadow as before. This time, we dismounted without words and sat by the stream again—closer than yesterday. Shoulders brushing now, intentional.
He picked up a flat stone, skipped it across the water. "My father—the king—expects perfection. Always has. My mother... she died when I was young. He never quite recovered. So he pushes. Harder."
I nodded. "Sounds familiar. Different flavor, same pressure."
Elias skipped another stone. "Rowan thinks you're using me. My advisors whisper the same. But I see it differently."
"What do you see?"
He turned to me fully. "Someone trying. Really trying. And that's rarer than any crown jewel."
Our eyes met—longer this time. The air hummed. No kiss, no dramatic grab. Just that steady, building warmth.
A breeze rustled the leaves. Somewhere distant, a horse whinnied.
Elias broke the gaze first, cheeks faintly pink. "We should head back. Before your parents send a search party."
I laughed softly. "Or before Rowan storms in again."
He grinned—small, real. "Probably both."
As we rode back, side by side, knees brushing more often now, the system chimed quietly:
[Favorability +20. Current: +80 (Deepening Affection → Pre-Romantic). Family interference noted—potential obstacle or catalyst. Romance Route strengthening. Keep it slow, host. It's beautiful this way.]
We parted at the stables with the same lingering look, the same quiet promise: tomorrow.
But as I walked away, I felt eyes on me—Reginald's, maybe, or Seraphina's—from some high window.
The past wasn't done with me yet.
And neither was the future.