Arien sat cross-legged on the floor, in the middle was his lifelong collection. His silver hair had fallen across his face again, and he brushed it back absently, leaving a smudge of dust on his cheek. Around him lay the work of his morning two piles of books. those that were his to keep, and those that were not.
He still wasn't sure which was which.
Stacks of books surrounded him on the floor, some leaning against the wall, others piled in uneven towers that seemed one deep breath away from collapse. The fire burned low in the hearth, and its orange glow flickered across the walls.
Books had been his tutors, his friends, his audience. They never looked at him with pity, They didn't whisper about in corridors or walk away mid-sentence.
He reached for one lying near his knee a red-covered journal that had been worn smooth by years of handling. He turned it over in his hands, tracing the faded lettering on the spine. Inside were the travels of a wandering wizard, a man who had crossed mountains, spoken to spirits, and seen cities that existed beyond this continent.
He couldn't say how many times he had read it over the years, Each time it had meant something different. As a child, it had filled him with wonder. At twelve, it had made him ache. Now, it simply felt like a door he finally could reach.
When he flipped a page, a dried leaf slipped out and landed on the floor. The handwriting on the next page shimmered faintly in blue ink:
(The world is wider than you could imagine, and old as time.)
He read the line twice, then pressed his thumb to the words as if trying to feel their weight. He wanted to keep the book more than he wanted anything else from this house. It was the one thing that felt like it belonged to him, though it didn't. It bore the mark of the family library.
He closed it carefully and placed it on the taller pile, the one marked not mine.
There were no friends. No invitations. Only polite greetings from people who didn't look him in the eye. He was tolerated, but never wanted. He was just The Duke's illegitimate youngest son.
Still, today would be different.
He had packed what little he owned, some coins, a few shirts, and his satchel leaned against the chair by the window. maybe the eastern towns across the hills. He could find work in a library somewhere, or teach the children of a village. He didn't care. What mattered was that it would be his choice.
The fire cracked.
He walked to the window and looked out. Rain streaked the glass, running in thin, wavering lines, the rain that almost never stopped since Seraphina's death. Beyond the garden wall, the fields were washed in gray light.
He turned back to the shelves. For a moment, his eyes rested on the red journal again. He reached for it, then stopped. Then he let his hand fall.
"It's not mine," he whispered, His voice sounded small in the roomas if saying it would make it easier.
He picked up another book, opening it to the middle. The words blurred for a moment before his eyes focused. It was a story about a bird who left home to travel to the west by himself. Arien smiled a small, tired smile and closed the book again.
He thought of his siblings — Rowan, Alistair, Cassian — each living their own polished lives under the family name, they despised him And yet, somewhere deep inside, he didn't hate them. He only wished he had been given a place in their life.
Arian froze when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
The touch was light and it startled him enough that the book in his hands slipped and hit the floor with a dull thud. He turned quickly, his heart skipping, and there she was.
"Lily." he breathed. "You scared me."
She laughed, the sound bright and quick, like bells. "You're always so jumpy." she said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
Arian bent down to pick up the fallen book, his face burning. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."he muttered, trying to sound calm.
"Maybe you shouldn't daydream so much,"she teased.
He smiled despite himself. That was Lily, was a short fifteen-year-old girl, standing just over five feet tall. Her bright red hair framed a face sprinkled with freckles, and her deep green eyes always seemed to sparkle with cheerfulness.her joyful spirit making even the busiest days feel a little brighter.
She'd started working in the Duke's household when she was eleven, a kitchen helper. Back then she was small, quick, and eager to please. Her father was a farmer in the southern valley, and her mother kept their tiny home running with what little they earned.
When her younger brother had fallen ill, the doctor said his only chance was a medicine made with a manastone.
It wasn't a cure, only a delay, a way to keep him alive a few more years, maybe until twenty if luck held. But manastones were expensive, too expensive for people who lived on farming and fieldwork.
So Lily had come here. She worked long hours and sent every spare coin back home, never once complaining. When others her age dreamed of dresses or enjoying herself, she dreamed of her brother's health and of his heartbeat staying strong another day.
"So you're really leaving," she said, kneeling beside him to help pick up the book.
He nodded. "It's time." hesitated, then met her gaze. " I will be going to Raviel."
She tilted her head, her hair catching the sunlight then her eyes widened. "My hometown?"
He nodded again. "You talk about it all the time. I'd like to see it for myself."
Lily's face lit up in surprise. "You'd really go there?"
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.Then she said quietly, "It's not much, you know. Just hills and fields. But people help each other there. When someone's sick, everyone brings what they can. There is no fancy gathering, you won't find the food you eat here or any kind of luxury, life there is quite tough."
"I think that's exactly what I need," he said softly.
Lily looked at him for a moment, then smiled bright and full of life. He couldn't look away. He loved that smile more than he should have. It made him think of love and peace.
As she leaned down to gather the scattered pages of his book, her sleeve brushed his hand. He caught the faint scent of bread and daisy, familiar, ordinary, and somehow perfect. His heart stumbled again.
She looked up, catching his glance, and he turned quickly away, pretending to focus on the book. His cheeks burned.
She giggled. "What?"
"Nothing." he said too quickly. "Just... nothing."
She didn't believe him. "You're red." she teased.
He cleared his throat, trying to recover his composure. "I was thinking....." he said quietly, "...you'd make a wonderful bride someday."
Lily blinked, startled. "What?"
He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You just would. You're kind. You work hard. You are also very pretty. Any man would be lucky to have you as his bride. "
Now it was Her turn to blushed deep red."That's… that's nice of you to say."
He meant it. He could already see her in some small cottage by the river, the wind carrying her laughter, sunlight in her hair, a family that looked at her with love. And in his head he was that husband.
The thought made him blush again, and he quickly bent to pick up the last book to hide it.
She smiled, pretending not to notice his clumsy attempt to look calm. She never mocked his clumsiness, never treated him like a master, she treated him like a normal boy, not like the way he is treated by other teenagers around him.
Either by disgust by the other nobles or ignored by the other maids and servants. He felt as if he was a normal teenager talking to other normal teenager. She treated him like a person And he liked that, He really did. He doesn't get much to talk with kids around his age.
"I'll send word when I reach Raviel," he said. "If… if that's all right."
Her eyes brightened. "Of course it is. You'll like my family. My mother will feed you until you can't move. And my father will tell you stories about every fight he has won since the world began." She laughed softly. "And my brother he is shy so he will just stare at you the whole time because he's never met anyone from the capital."
her laughter faded when she thought of her brother's condition. Arian reached out and touched her hand. "He will get better," he said quietly. "He has you fighting for him."
She just smiled, small and uncertain.
Lily stood, brushing off her apron. "I should help you finish packing." she said lightly, though her voice trembled just a little.
He laughed softly. "No You don't, I can't handle this myself, you better leave before Graham finds out you are not in the kitchen."
She lingered by the door, looking at him one last time. "Then I'll see you again soon." she said.
"You will."he promised.
And when she left, the room felt a little emptier but somehow brighter too, as if she'd taken part of the gloom with her.
Maybe he should've told her his feelings toward her, but he felt like he shouldn't burden her with this . Maybe after he settles down and she comes back to the town, they could go on a date beside the river she mentioned, go to the night Market together.
And maybe, just maybe then he would ask her hand in marriage with the blessing of her family.
Arian looked down at the book still in his hands, the red journal, the one he hadn't been brave enough to keep before. He hesitated, then slipped it into his satchel.
This time, he didn't feel guilty.