Sunlight filtered gently through the wooden shutters, casting golden lines across the modest room where Kaelion lay sleeping.
The comforting aroma of warm broth and freshly baked bread wafted in from beyond the door, creating an inviting atmosphere.
It was one of those rare mornings that promised peace, a fleeting illusion that the outside world, filled with chaos, betrayal, and war, could be momentarily forgotten.
Kaelion stirred slowly, his body aching but in a familiar way, like a gentle reminder of healing rather than impending doom.
As he opened his eyes, he felt the rough linen blanket against his skin and heard the wooden frame beneath him creak slightly as he shifted.
He blinked a few times, questioning whether it was truly morning or just another flicker of delirium.
But the warmth of sunlight on his face felt undeniably real.
The simple room around him was tangible; even the hunger gnawing at his stomach was all too real.
Just then, a soft knock echoed against the door.
"You awake, mister?" came a high-pitched voice bursting with curiosity, Elira's voice.
Kaelion cleared his throat; it felt dry like gravel.
"Yes. Come in."
The door creaked open to reveal Elira walking in with a tray almost comically large for her small frame.
On it sat a steaming bowl of porridge, a hunk of crusty bread, and a cup of herbal tea.
Her brown curls bounced cheerfully as she entered, her bright green eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Mama said you'd be hungry! Papa said you'd eat like a starved dire wolf! Is that true?" she asked eagerly while setting down the tray beside him.
Kaelion managed a weary smile. "I don't remember what dire wolves eat, but that sounds about right."
He sat up with a grunt, wincing as movement tugged at wounds across his ribs.
Elira's eyes widened as she watched him struggle. "Does it hurt a lot? When we found you, you were all bloody and scary-looking! Papa thought you were a ghost at first!"
Kaelion chuckled softly. "I probably looked like one."
Elira nodded vigorously. "But Mama said no ghost would groan like you did when we dragged you to the cart! She said ghosts don't groan."
Dipping his spoon into the porridge and bringing it to his lips revealed its thick texture seasoned with herbs and maybe even honey, his stomach gurgled in appreciation.
"This is good! Please tell your mother thank you."
"Okay! But she'll come in soon to change your bandages; she says they're all icky."
"Icky? That sounds about right," Kaelion muttered.
Elira didn't leave; instead, she perched herself on a wooden stool by the window with her legs swinging back and forth.
"So… what's your name, really? You didn't tell us."
Kaelion hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face.
"You can call me Kael," he finally said.
She squinted at him, skepticism written all over her small features. "That's not your real name."
He smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "It's close enough."
"Are you a knight?" she asked, curiosity dancing in her voice.
"Something like that," he replied with a playful grin.
"You don't look like a farmer. Your hands are too soft, and you have that fancy way of talking. Papa says you're hiding something."
Kaelion raised an eyebrow. "Does your father say that to all strangers?"
"Only the ones who sleep for three days straight and cry in their sleep." Her expression softened as she added, "You cried a lot."
Kaelion glanced down at the bowl in his hands, silence wrapping around them like a warm blanket.
Finally, he looked back at the little girl and said, "You ask too many questions, and you're smarter than most grown-ups I know."
Elira puffed out her chest proudly. "Of course I am! Unlike Joren!"
Kaelion chuckled softly. "Just so you know, boys don't usually like girls who are too smart!"
Elira's big watery green eyes widened as she glared at him defiantly while crossing her small arms.
---
Later that morning, Maris entered the room with a clean set of bandages and a damp cloth in hand.
Her presence was calm and competent, like someone who had faced far worse challenges and had no time for dramatics.
"Let's change those wrappings," she said gently.
Kaelion nodded and pulled off the borrowed tunic as she unwound the stained cloth from around his torso; her brow furrowed slightly with concern.
"The wounds are healing better than I expected," she remarked. "You must have a strong body."
"Strong will," Kaelion replied with conviction. "The body just follows."
She didn't pry into his past; instead, she smiled softly and worked in silence, dabbing antiseptic herbs over bruises and cuts before rewrapping them with practiced hands.
Once finished, she spoke again: "You can stay as long as you need to. Roran may not say much but he agrees, you helped with the firewood yesterday even when you could barely walk. That matters here."
Kaelion met her gaze seriously. "I'll repay my debt, every day I can move; I'll help."
Maris returned his look with a small smile. "Good to hear! We believe in earning our place too."
---
Just like that, time slipped by as days turned into weeks.
Kaelion found himself walking with increasing ease, his strength returning little by little.
Each sunrise, he joined Roran at the crack of dawn, helping with the animals, lifting buckets, and splitting logs.
At first, Roran was a man of few words, only nodding in approval when Kaelion completed a task correctly.
But on the ninth morning, after Kaelion expertly repaired a section of the garden fence, Roran surprised him by handing over a tin mug filled with lukewarm tea.
"Built like a noble. Work like a fieldhand," he muttered with a hint of respect.
Kaelion accepted the compliment with gratitude.
The nights were the hardest part for him. The bed was warm and the room felt safe, yet memories crept in, the echo of the emperor's voice, Valerian's sneer, and the bitter taste of betrayal.
Most nights found him standing outside under the stars, gazing at the twin moons drifting across the velvet sky.
It was during one of these quiet moments that Elira found him.
"You talk in your sleep," she said suddenly, startling him from his thoughts.
Kaelion turned to her in surprise. "Is that so?"
"You keep saying 'father' and 'why.' Sometimes you cry. I didn't tell Mama." Her eyes sparkled mischievously.
He crouched beside her and gently rubbed her head. "Thank you for keeping my secret."
"Wanna know a secret?" she whispered conspiratorially.
"Always."
She leaned closer while glancing around to ensure no one else could hear her and whispered loudly in his ear, "Joren wets the bed! A lot!"
Kaelion struggled to contain his laughter; Elira's mischief was too hilarious to resist.
---
As time continued its steady march forward through weeks and months, Kaelion gradually became more entwined with this family.
He repaired their wheelbarrow, built a scarecrow for their fields, and helped Maris carry water from the stream.
When Elira caught a fever one night, he stayed up cooling her forehead and reading from an old storybook until dawn broke.
His complexion improved; warmth returned to his cheeks as muscles regained their tone and posture straightened out.
But more importantly? Something inside him began to soften.
Gone was his constant need to look over his shoulder; laughter came easier now, and he even started savoring meals instead of wolfing them down like before!
Sleep still brought nightmares now and then, but they were less intense than they had been earlier on.
Roran might not have been much for conversation but showed trust through actions, allowing Kaelion to ride into nearby villages alone or handle bartering at local markets without supervision.
Maris remained stern but occasionally cracked a smile when Kaelion teased Elira or helped Joren catch fireflies under starlit skies.
And Elira?That little girl never left his side! She was a real pain in the neck, always bombarding Kaelion with questions.
But it was her constant chatter that made him feel at home, bringing a sense of peace he hadn't experienced in ages.
---
One month have already passed since Kaelion was saved by Roran family.
On this day the evening sun began to sunk in the horizons,Kaelion found himself perched on the edge of a hill, gazing out over the vast fields.
The wind danced gently around him, whispering secrets as it tousled his hair. In the distance, laughter echoed, children playing without a care in the world.
He closed his eyes and let the breeze caress his cheeks. Who was he now? A prince? An outcast? A warrior seeking redemption?
The uncertainty loomed over him like a dark cloud.
Should he embrace this simple, unpretentious life or venture down a darker path fueled by revenge?
For the first time in years… he felt human. And perhaps that was the most dangerous feeling of all.