Teased and Triggered
1256 Words
Chapter 17
The golden sun spilled across the towering white walls of Elion’s kingdom, casting long shadows that danced over the dusty training grounds. The clang of swords and cries of sparring warriors had long since faded into silence, leaving behind only the sharp tang of metal in the air and the faint scent of sweat and sand. Now, laughter rolled like thunderclouds after a summer storm—loud, unrestrained, and oblivious to the weight of silence resting on one man’s shoulders.
A group of young warriors lounged lazily near the sparring arena, their postures unbothered, armor unbuckled and scattered, tunics damp with exertion. Shields leaned against boulders. Helms were abandoned beside upturned water flasks. Their faces were flushed, not from battle—but from amusement. They were drunk on camaraderie, prideful in their youth, unburdened by the deeper scars of war.
Elion stood at a distance, perched on a smooth, flat rock that overlooked them all, arms crossed over his chest like a statue carved from living storm. His long silver-blond hair moved slightly in the breeze, and his ocean-blue eyes watched them beneath heavy lids, unreadable as the sea before a squall.
One of the younger warriors, Nareth, nudged his friend Lior with an elbow, his grin wide and mischievous. “Tell me, Elion,” he called, voice raised in mock respect, “our noble warlord—five thousand years old and still untouched by love?”
A ripple of laughter exploded through the group.
Lior threw his head back and cackled. “He’s probably married to his sword. Loyal. Sharp. Cold.”
Another, Ryven, cupped his hands around his mouth and mock-whispered, “Or maybe cursed! Fell in love once and now sworn to silence like one of the ancient spirits!”
The others roared again, slapping their knees, clapping one another on the back like they’d just unearthed the greatest treasure in the realm. The humor was not cruel—just careless. The way only the untested could afford to be.
Elion remained still. His eyes did not waver. His jaw was locked, but no emotion cracked the surface of his face. He stared out past the wall, toward the horizon—toward a line in the distance that no one else could see.
Then he moved.
The laughter dimmed as Elion stood from the rock, his boots scraping against the stone. He stepped down onto the gravel with a slow, deliberate grace. There was no fury in his movements, only precision. Silence swallowed the group as he approached, his presence suddenly weighing down the air.
He stopped in front of them, arms still crossed. His tone was calm—chillingly so.
Elion (deadpan):
“This is why you were humiliated last battle. Too much time mocking. Not enough listening. You think love is harmless? It’s the one thing that can shatter a kingdom from the inside out.”
The words dropped like stones in a still lake. Ripples of discomfort broke across their faces. Lior swallowed hard. Ryven scratched his neck, avoiding Elion’s gaze. Nareth, however, tried to salvage the moment with a crooked grin.
Nareth:
“Respectfully, Commander—it wasn’t love that beat us. It was their mages and their infernal spells. Without that, we would’ve crushed them.”
Elion’s jaw tightened. He was about to respond when another voice cut through the silence—smooth and teasing, like a knife wrapped in velvet.
Thalen:
“Speaking of weakness…”
All heads turned. Thalen rose from where he had been lounging against a half-buried column, brushing sand from his tunic with exaggerated flair. His sea-green eyes sparkled with mirth. He was always like this—dangerously smart, infuriatingly charming, and the only one who could toe the line with Elion without getting scorched.
Thalen (grinning):
“I heard something recently… something about the human world.”
The reaction was immediate. Every warrior in the circle straightened slightly, their interest piqued.
Lior:
“Humans? You mean those fragile creatures with no magic?”
Thalen:
“No spells. No immortality. Just… raw emotion. Short lives. Fast feelings. But they say their passion burns deeper than ours ever could. If we ever breached their realm again, I’d wager they’d be easier to conquer than we think. No real defense.”
Ryven (lowering his voice):
“You’d need access first. That gate’s been sealed since—”
He stopped.
Thalen (raising an eyebrow):
“Since when?”
Ryven (hesitant):
“Since Elion’s uncle died. That world’s been off-limits ever since. Everyone knows that.”
The silence thickened. Elion’s gaze, which had drifted away again, snapped sharply toward Ryven. His voice was low, but it cut like steel.
Elion (controlled):
“How do you know about that?”
Ryven blinked. He looked around for support but found none.
Ryven (nervously):
“My grandmother told me. She was close with your grandmother before the wars. She said… the gate was closed because of a love story. And a betrayal.”
A hush fell over them like the calm before a tidal wave. Even Thalen, who was rarely ever silent, said nothing.
Elion’s heart slammed once—painfully loud inside his chest. He masked it behind a perfectly still expression, but a cold sweat had already begun to form at the nape of his neck.
The others didn’t know.
They couldn’t know.
Elion (quietly, to Thalen):
“Meet me by the hollow tree after sunset. Alone.”
Thalen (smirking, playful):
“Am I being punished?”
Elion:
“No. You’re going to help me understand something I’ve been wondering about… for a very long time.”
Thalen raised both brows, but offered no resistance. He gave a half-bow, just enough to be mocking, then turned back toward the others with a grin. They, however, remained silent. Elion had already turned away.
He walked slowly, the sun dipping lower behind him, turning gold to amber and then to crimson. His shadow stretched long behind him, stretching like a tether pulling him toward the past.
But his mind wasn’t on swords. Or mages. Or Ryven’s foolish tales.
His mind was on her.
On the veil.
On the sound of her voice in the quiet moments between night and day.
On the way her eyes, though seen only in dreams, seemed to know him—challenge him—see past the blood on his hands.
Aria.
Even her name felt dangerous in his thoughts. It had no place here among warriors and ancient grudges. It belonged in another world. A forbidden one. A beautiful one.
He reached the edge of the training grounds, where the worn grass began to thicken into trees and roots. The hollow tree wasn’t far. A secret place. One his grandmother had once brought him to as a child when the burdens of royalty pressed too hard. It was where he had first learned of the other realm. The one the gate no longer opened to.
But something inside him was changing.
The mockery of his warriors didn’t wound him.
It triggered something else.
Resolve.
He was tired of silence. Tired of pretending he didn’t ache for answers. If the gate had been closed for love… then maybe it could be opened for love, too.
As he disappeared into the trees, the last sliver of sunlight vanished behind the distant mountains. Night had fallen. But Elion didn’t feel the dark.
He felt her.
And soon—he would find a way to reach her.
Even if it meant breaking every law his bloodline ever wrote.
- Writer
