Location : Northern borders
The briefing had ended. The last murmurs of strategy faded into the dusk as soldiers departed the command tent in disciplined rows. Ethan von Shelb, cloaked in silence and still wrapped in his commander's aura, lingered.
Outside, the northern sky blazed in hues of crimson and gold. Beyond the war camp's edge, where wildflowers danced beneath the heavy twilight, stood Vivian.
Her profile was carved against the horizon, unmoving, as though stitched into the sun's dying tapestry. Auburn strands of hair lifted in the wind, catching flecks of light like burnished fire.
Ethan watched her from a distance, heart caught in his throat. She hadn't seen him yet.
She was staring at the horizon, eyes distant. Perhaps thinking of the battle to come, or perhaps of something more private—something painful.
He took a step forward.
Then another.
Still, he said nothing.
He stood beside her now, close enough to hear her breath, but he couldn't speak. Not when shame roiled inside him like poison.
He had no memory of the night—only the terrible fragments told to him by Micheal.
A drunken act, his hands where they shouldn't have been, a cry stifled by the dark. He hadn't remembered it, but he knew enough to feel like a beast.
Yet here she stood, alive and unbroken.
"You've been avoiding me, Ethan," Vivian said suddenly, her voice quiet but edged with steel.
She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on the last sliver of sun. "Why?"
Ethan's lips parted. Nothing came.
Her emerald eyes flicked to him, sharp, challenging. "Why won't you speak to me? Did I offend you? Is it something I did?"
His hands clenched.
"No," he murmured at last. "You did nothing wrong."
Vivian tilted her head. "Then why this silent treatment? Why do you act like I'm something you regret looking at?"
Ethan met her gaze then—and it nearly undid him.
"Because I owe you a thousand apologies," he said softly. "But I'm afraid... one won't be enough."
She blinked, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"
He didn't answer.
He couldn't tell her.
He couldn't tell her he had no memory of that night.
That he'd worried over her injuries during Flora's wedding, only to be shattered later when Micheal revealed the truth—he was the one who'd hurt her.
He couldn't bear to see her break, not when the knowledge alone nearly broke him.
So he looked away.
"I'll make it up to you," he whispered. "After the war."
Vivian's brows furrowed. "Make what up to me?"
He stayed silent.
The wind picked up. Silence swelled between them.
Trying to shift the tension, Vivian let out a short laugh and crossed her arms. "So... are we still friends, or did I miss a breakup announcement?"
Ethan chuckled, the sound low and uncertain. "I didn't know we were dating."
"I mean, technically we are childhood best friends," she shot back, lifting an eyebrow. "Besides I've been taken all along."
He blinked. "Wait, are you?"
And just like that, the banter turned into something else.
She rolled her eyes. "I am dating someone."
He turned to look at her, sharp. "Really? Who?"
"Someone," she said with feigned confidence, puffing up her chest. "A very fine soldier. Loyal. Handsome."
"Name?"
"It's not important."
"You are terrible at lying"
"Elias."
"Which Elias?" he asked bluntly. "The one who called you a raging volcano in the canteen after three drinks? Said he hoped you finally got laid so the recruits would get a day off from your sadistic drills?"
Vivian's jaw dropped.
"He said that?"
Ethan smirked. "He had the sympathy of both the Valenhart and Shelb soldiers."
Vivian's cheeks flushed. "Well, he is just confused. Not... not that it matters anyways."
"You're not dating anyone, are you?"
She looked away. "So what if I'm not?"
He stepped closer.
"You never have," he said gently.
She whirled toward him. "I have!"
"Vivian."
She faltered.
He gave a soft chuckle. "Single since birth. That's impressive, Dame Commander."
She punched him lightly in the arm. "Shut up."
He smiled and looked at her—truly looked.
She was beautiful.
He reached out. A single strand of her hair fluttered over her brow. Absentmindedly, he brushed it away, fingers grazing her skin.
Vivian froze.
His hand lingered.
Then he cupped her cheek.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, eyes locked on hers.
Her breath caught.
The words punched through years of silence, of distance.
It felt like he was looking at her like she was a woman—not a comrade, not a friend.
She didn't know what to say.
No. No, this wasn't real.
Was this how men in the Shelb army greeted each other now?
Wait it can't be! That's so wrong in many aspects.
And then this was Ethan.
His thumb brushed her cheekbone. She felt like she was burning.
She tried to recover, to summon her usual bravado.
"You're acting weird," she muttered.
"You're red," he gently teased. "Like a tomato."
"I'm not. It's the sunset."
He laughed softly.
Then, as if something heavy loomed behind his smile, he stepped back.
"Stay alive tomorrow," he said. "I have things I need to tell you after the battle... Please."
He turned.
Took a step away.
Then stopped.
Turned again.
And walked straight into her arms.
No warning.
He wrapped her in a tight, aching hug.
Her eyes widened.
His head nestled against her shoulder, breath shuddering.
"Just for a moment," he whispered.
His hands pressed into her back. Not with lust—but longing. Regret. Fear.
She felt his fingers tremble.
He smelled like fresh linen and steel and something warm—like cinnamon.
Ethan's own thoughts were spiraling.
Had she always been this small in his arms?
Had he always held back this much?
A sudden, wild thought clawed its way up—he wanted to lock her away in the Shelb castle.
Keep her hidden from battles, from other men, from everything that might dare touch her.
His piercing blue eyes crackled faintly with aura, a dangerous glint of possessiveness.
But as quickly as it surfaced, his discipline shoved it down.
That wasn't him. He couldn't want that. He wouldn't.
He forced himself to breathe, grounding his mind back into the moment.
He memorized her.
And then, as if afraid he'd shatter her, he let go.
Too quickly.
"Goodnight, Vivian," he said, stepping back.
"Ethan—"
"Sleep well."
He was gone before she could say another word.
Vivian stood there long after he vanished into the camp. Her heart thundered.
The wind whispered through her braid.
Did he just flirt with her?
Commander Ethan von Shelb, the Empire's coldest blade?
She touched her cheek.
She had no idea how she'd face battle tomorrow.
Because tonight, she had lost a different war.
And she wasn't sure she wanted to win it back.