Chapter Text
Arlathan Forest is a place that almost feels alive—ancient, watchful. The trees arch overhead, their leaves filtering the light into hues of deep green, amber, and burnt red. The ground is blanketed with fallen leaves that shift in color as the sun moves, and the air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp wood. It’s hauntingly beautiful, yet there’s a weight to the silence here, as if the forest is holding its breath, waiting.
And then there’s her.
Rook moves ahead of me, weaving through the trees with an ease that feels almost unnatural, like she belongs here in a way I don’t. The dappled light catches on her face, illuminating her profile in vibrant, natural hues, casting shadows that shift across her skin as she steps in and out of patches of sunlight. I find myself watching the way the colors dance around her, highlighting the quiet strength in her posture, the relaxed yet sharp way she holds herself.
Something about the way she walks—confident, steady, each step deliberate yet unhurried—makes it impossible to look away. Hints of amber and evergreen seem to cling to her, as if the forest itself recognizes her presence, drawn to her as much as… well, as much as I am.
I don’t know when this pull began. At first, I told myself it was curiosity, a fleeting interest in her reckless nature, in the way she throws herself into danger without hesitation. But now, watching her in this light, the forest colors framing her like some figure from an ancient tale, I feel something deeper—something I dare not name.
She turns, catching my gaze, and there’s that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, her eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “Something on your mind?” she teases, breaking the silence and pulling me back to reality.
I force a laugh, a quick, dismissive sound to mask the way my chest tightens. “Just keeping an eye out. No harm in staying vigilant.” But the truth is, I’m mesmerized. The word Trouble slips through my mind again, and it feels like a warning—to her, to me. She’s trouble in every way, and yet… I can’t bring myself to look away.
The deeper we move into the forest, the darker and richer the light becomes, casting Rook in a way that feels almost deliberate, as though the forest itself is revealing something hidden in her. There’s a quiet strength in her gaze, a softness I rarely see, and each time she steps into a beam of light, she seems to command the world around her without even trying. I don’t think she realizes the effect she has on me, the way her presence keeps me unsteady, questioning everything I thought I knew.
Calling her Trouble feels like my last line of defense, the only way I have left to protect myself. It’s a label that’s meant to keep her at arm’s length, to remind me not to get too close. But as that barrier slips, I feel something inside me begin to unravel, like a cord stretched too tight, finally giving way. I can’t stop myself from looking her way, each glance feeding a pull I don’t fully understand, one that unsettles and captivates me all at once. The way she moves, how the light wraps around her, draws me in deeper, makes her seem almost otherworldly, untouchable. And yet, in these moments, I feel closer to her than I’d ever let myself admit.
Lucanis keeps things light, and I remind myself that’s all I need. His flirtations are easy, harmless—a game that lets me forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment. With him, there’s no need to dig deep or question anything; we can laugh, exchange glances, play at something that never asks for more. It’s uncomplicated, a distraction that feels almost safe in its simplicity.
But even as I tell myself that’s enough, I can’t help feeling a pull toward something beyond that ease, something that makes my heart race in a way Lucanis never could. And that’s when I feel her presence, like a quiet tension at the edges of my thoughts, impossible to ignore. And I… I am left to watch, caught between the fear of what this means and the thrill of simply being near her.
I wanted to keep things simple, to call her Trouble and pretend that’s all she is—a distraction, an annoyance. But standing here in the heart of Arlathan, surrounded by ancient colors and silent trees, I can feel my resolve slipping, the walls I’ve built crumbling with each glance, each step.
She doesn’t know, of course. How could she? She’s focused on the path ahead, oblivious to the chaos she’s causing in my mind. But as the reds and greens cast their final light on her face, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing this battle—that “Trouble” is no longer a warning, but a confession.