INNER THOUGHTS
1344 Words
Elora
I sit by the window, knees drawn up, watching the last of the light slip across the cottage grounds.
Everything is different—but not all at once. The changes have been small, careful. A new home. A gate that opens instead of staying shut. A name spoken without disdain.
And yet, the weight of it all presses gently against my chest.
I still don’t know how I’m supposed to stand among packs who once looked at my family and decided we were expendable. I don’t know how I’m meant to lead wolves who never questioned our exile—who never wondered if justice had been cruel.
There’s resentment there. Quiet. Lingering.
And beneath it… something else.
Affection that settled in deeper than I realized.
Protection I didn’t ask for but somehow trust. Feelings that didn’t arrive loudly, but stayed.
I don’t hear him approach. I feel him.
Lysander leans against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, gaze soft. “You’ve been staring out that window like it owes you answers.”
I smile faintly. “It hasn’t paid up yet.”
He steps closer. “Heavy thoughts?”
“Always,” I admit. “But not all bad.”
He reaches out, brushing his thumb along my knuckles. “You don’t have to carry them alone.”
The words undo me a little.
I look up—and this time, when he leans in, I don’t hesitate.
The kiss is slow. Certain. Not rushed or overwhelming. Just… real.
Then—
Giggling.
We freeze.
“I knew it!”
Rowan bursts from behind the door, triumphant.
“Rowan,” I groan. “Not cool.”
“I’m blackmailing you again,” he announces proudly. “And in your room, Lora? When Daddy finds out, he’s gonna kill the prince.”
“You can call me Lysander,” Lysander says mildly. “Or Ly.”
Rowan crosses his arms. “I prefer Prince. That’s what Uncle calls you.”
Lysander sighs theatrically, then brightens. “You know what? No words.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small action figure.
Rowan gasps like he’s been personally blessed by the moon goddess.
“Are you done spying on us?” Lysander asks.
Rowan nods solemnly. “For now.”
He tackles Lysander in a hug. “Thank you thank you thank you!!!”
Then he sprints down the hall.
We stare after him.
“Kids,” we say at the same time.
Lysander rubs the back of his neck. “Uh—my parents invited your family to breakfast. Or brunch. Or… a long event that will definitely involve opinions.”
My eyes widen. “Family bonding? With all of us? The kids? Even—”
“Caspian,” he finishes, already resigned.
I wince. “That’s going to be a day.”
“Probably several,” he agrees.
I yawn dramatically. “Then I should get some rest. Moving is exhausting.”
“Or,” he says lightly, stepping closer, “I could stay.”
I loop my arms around his shoulders, teasing and soft all at once. “So you want to spend the night talking… hanging out… in my room… so my dad can kill you?”
He grins. “Might be worth it.”
I smack his arm. “Goodnight, Prince.”
He laughs as he backs away, eyes lingering like he’s already planning tomorrow.
And somehow, despite everything—
I’m looking forward to it.
.....
Brunch on Castle Grounds:
Brunch is set outside, long tables beneath pale stone arches that soften the grandeur of the castle into something almost… livable. Linen tablecloths. Warm bread. Tea and coffee served without ceremony.
It’s intentional. Lysander notices that immediately.
This isn’t a royal display. This is his parents trying.
Rowan and the twins are seated together at the far end, heads bent close, whispering urgently.
“I’m just saying,” Rowan insists, “Frozen has better songs.”
Reagan shakes her head. “Encanto has Bruno.”
Rosalie gasps. “We don’t talk about Bruno.”
Rowan pauses. “…Okay but that song is kind of fire.”
Elora smiles despite herself.
Across from her, Fleur sits straight-backed but relaxed, polite without shrinking. Lysander’s mother—Queen Adeline—leans in slightly, genuinely curious.
“The cottage suits you,” she says. “It feels… grounded.”
Fleur nods. “That matters to us. Beauty is nice, but peace lasts longer.”
Something like approval flickers in the queen’s eyes.
Nearby, Odette listens quietly as Caspian speaks—one arm draped over the back of her chair, fingers occasionally brushing her shoulder like second nature.
“I have to say,” Caspian is saying lightly, “castle brunch is not how I pictured my morning.”
Odette smiles sweetly. “You pictured chaos.”
“I planned for chaos,” he corrects.
King Aslan chuckles despite himself. “And yet you arrived on time.”
Caspian grins. “Growth."
Jasper clears his throat. “He means Odette made him.”
Odette kisses Caspian’s cheek. “Absolutely.”
Caspian doesn’t even pretend to protest.
Lysander watches it all with quiet fascination.
This is not rebellion.
This is ease.
Caspian doesn’t push against authority—he moves around it, pokes at the cracks, says the thing everyone thinks and then smiles like it was a joke.
“And you’re the uncle,” Adeline says, turning to him. “The infamous one.”
Caspian places a hand over his heart. “I prefer memorable.”
“I hear you once tried to overthrow a council,” the king adds mildly.
Caspian tilts his head. “Allegedly.”
Odette coughs. “Confirmed.”
Laughter breaks the tension before it can form.
Lysander catches his mother’s glance—assessing, thoughtful.
You see it too, he thinks.
Lysander Navigates:
Later, as plates are cleared and the kids are herded toward the gardens, Lysander finds himself standing between Caspian and his parents near the edge of the terrace.
A dangerous position.
“So,” Caspian says, rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “This is where I’m supposed to be intimidated, right?”
Lysander’s father raises a brow. “Are you?”
Caspian considers it. “No.”
Odette elbows him gently. “Behave."
“I am,” Caspian says innocently. “I haven’t challenged anyone’s rule today.”
Lysander exhales slowly, already half-amused, half-bracing.
His mother speaks first. “You’re not what I expected.”
Caspian smiles. “I get that a lot.”
“I expected anger,” she continues. “Bitterness.”
Caspian’s expression softens—just slightly. “I'm not sure I'm bitter but anger....That part’s quieter now.”
Lysander watches his parents really look at him then.
Jasper joins them, arms crossed but relaxed. “He’s like this,” he says apologetically. “But he’s loyal.”
Caspian snorts. “Don’t undersell me.”
“I won’t,” Jasper replies calmly. “But I’ll keep you in line.”
Caspian grins. “Someone has to try.”
Lysander realizes then—this is exactly what he’d sensed during the trial.
Not defiance.
Perspective.
Someone unafraid to stand in royal space and still speak like a person.
His father turns to Lysander. “You trust him.”
It isn’t a question.
“Yes,” Lysander answers immediately. “I do.”
Caspian looks genuinely touched—then ruins it.
“Careful, Prince,” he says. “You’re one brunch away from me liking you.”
Lysander smirks. “Don’t threaten me."
From the garden, Rowan’s voice rings out: “ENCANTO WINS!"
Rosalie cheers. Reagan does a victory dance.
Caspian points proudly. “See? Already disrupting the next generation.”
Odette laughs, slipping her hand into his.
Lysander watches Elora across the lawn—talking quietly with his mother, sunlight catching in her hair—and feels it settle deep in his chest.
This is going to change everything.
And for the first time, he’s certain—
That’s exactly what they need.
- Writer
