The air was still in the grand hall of Castle Eldrin as dusk fell, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The day had been a whirlwind of royal duties, but the tension between Elara, Jareth, and Prince Lucian lingered beneath the surface. Elara could feel it in every glance exchanged between the men, every strained silence during their meetings. The rivalry between the Duke and the Prince was growing, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
Elara stood by the window, watching the sunset over the kingdom, the vibrant hues of orange and pink slowly fading into the deep blues of the evening. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of politics, personal feelings, and the responsibilities she carried as queen. She wasn’t sure what troubled her more—the unrest in the kingdom or the silent battle between Jareth and Lucian for her affection.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called softly, turning to face the entrance.
The door creaked open, and Jareth stepped inside, his expression serious. “Elara, we need to talk.”
She nodded, her heart skipping a beat. “What is it?”
He walked closer, his eyes searching hers as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. “It’s about Lucian,” he said quietly.
Elara frowned, feeling a knot form in her stomach. “What about him?”
Jareth’s jaw tightened. “He’s been getting too close to you. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t bother me. I’ve known you far longer than he has, and… it feels like he’s trying to undermine what we have.”
Elara’s breath caught in her throat. “Jareth, this isn’t—”
“Isn’t about jealousy?” Jareth interrupted, his voice edged with frustration. “Because it sure feels like it is. He’s always there, always finding some excuse to be around you, and I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his voice softening. “I just don’t want to lose you, Elara.”
Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but before she could respond, another voice interrupted.
“You know, it’s quite rude to talk about someone behind their back.”
Elara’s eyes widened as she saw Lucian leaning casually against the doorframe, his usual smirk replaced with a look of cold amusement. He straightened, walking toward them with slow, deliberate steps.
“Lucian,” Elara said, her voice tight. “This isn’t the time—”
Lucian raised a hand, cutting her off. “I think it’s exactly the time. You see, Jareth, you’ve been brooding about this for weeks, and it’s starting to get tiresome.”
Jareth’s eyes narrowed, his voice dangerously low. “What exactly are you insinuating, Lucian?”
“I’m not insinuating anything,” Lucian replied coolly. “I’m stating a fact. Elara deserves more than someone who spends their time worrying about being ‘undermined.’ She deserves someone who isn’t afraid to show their feelings openly.”
Elara felt her pulse quicken as the tension between the two men escalated. “Stop it, both of you,” she said firmly, stepping between them. “This isn’t a competition. I care about you both, but this isn’t how we resolve things.”
Lucian’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. “Elara, you know I’ve always been honest with you. My feelings for you aren’t a secret.”
Jareth’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice tight with emotion. “And what am I, Lucian? Some kind of obstacle in your way? I’ve loved Elara long before you ever set foot in this castle.”
The room seemed to vibrate with the weight of their words, and Elara could feel the pressure mounting on her chest. She needed a moment to think, to breathe.
“Please,” Elara said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can we not do this now?”
Lucian’s eyes flickered with something like regret, and he took a step back. “Of course, Your Majesty. But just know that I’m not giving up.” He gave her a pointed look before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
As the door closed behind him, silence fell over the hall. Jareth let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as he turned to face Elara.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into an argument.”
Elara shook her head, her voice filled with sadness. “This can’t go on, Jareth. I can’t have you and Lucian fighting like this. It’s tearing me apart.”
Jareth stepped closer, reaching out to gently cup her face in his hands. His touch was warm, and she found herself leaning into him, craving the comfort he offered.
“I know,” he whispered. “But I can’t help how I feel. I’ve loved you for so long, Elara. Watching Lucian hover around you, seeing him try to win your heart… it drives me mad.”
Elara closed her eyes, her heart heavy with the weight of his words. “I don’t want to hurt either of you, Jareth. But I don’t know what to do.”
Jareth lowered his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Just know that I’m here, always.”
For a moment, they stood in silence, the world outside the room forgotten as they held each other. But even in the warmth of Jareth’s embrace, Elara couldn’t shake the uncertainty that lingered in the back of her mind.
The following days were a blur of royal engagements, meetings, and planning for a visit to a neighboring kingdom. Elara’s mind, however, was elsewhere. Between the ever-present rivalry between Jareth and Lucian, and the growing unrest in Aldoria, she felt as if she were being pulled in too many directions at once.
One evening, as she sat at her desk, going over plans for the upcoming diplomatic trip, there was a soft knock at her door. Expecting another report or servant, she barely looked up.
“Come in.”
To her surprise, a young man with bright yellow hair stepped inside. He was tall, with striking features and a confident air that immediately caught her attention.
“Elara?” he asked, his voice smooth.
She blinked, confused for a moment. “Do I know you?”
The young man chuckled. “No, but you will. I’m Thorne, an envoy from Dicathen.”
Elara raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Dicathen? I wasn’t expecting an envoy until next week.”
Thorne grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I like to be ahead of schedule.”
She smiled despite herself. “Well, you’re certainly ahead of something.”
Thorne walked further into the room, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’ve heard much about you, Queen Elara. They say you’re unlike any ruler Aldoria has seen before.”
Elara laughed lightly. “Is that so? And what exactly have you heard?”
Thorne’s grin widened. “That you’re a queen who stands her ground, who listens to her people. A ruler with heart.”
Elara felt a warmth spread through her at his words, but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of suspicion. “And what brings you here, Thorne, aside from delivering compliments?”
Thorne leaned against her desk, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m here to discuss an alliance. Dicathen has interests in Aldoria, and we think a strong bond between our kingdoms could benefit us both.”
Elara’s brow furrowed. “An alliance? And what exactly does Dicathen want in return?”
Thorne’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “All in good time, my queen. But for now, I’d like to get to know you better.”
Elara’s heart skipped a beat at the intensity of his gaze. Something about him was disarming, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his visit than he let on.
Before she could respond, there was another knock at the door. Jareth entered, his expression darkening the moment he saw Thorne standing so close to her.
“Who is this?” Jareth demanded, his voice filled with barely-contained frustration.
Thorne straightened, his smile never faltering. “I’m Thorne, an envoy from Dicathen. And you must be Duke Jareth.”
Jareth’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
Elara stood, sensing the tension rising again. “Thorne was just introducing himself. He’s here to discuss a possible alliance.”
Jareth didn’t look convinced, his gaze shifting suspiciously between Thorne and Elara. “I see.”
Thorne flashed a grin. “Don’t worry, Duke. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
Elara sighed inwardly, knowing that once again, she found herself caught between the affections of two men—and now, perhaps, a third.