Chapter 6 - So Soft. Too Soft.
Written by Lauca. Edited by Cat.
The city lights had long since faded behind them, swallowed by the hush of Evermeet’s forest paths. They had walked for hours beneath a sky that deepened into velvet, each step bringing them closer to home. Ayda, weighed down by a full day of excitement, had grown weary by sunset. Her new boots scuffed the dirt with every step, and she declared with dramatic flair that she was sticky, dusty, and felt altogether icky.
“I want to wash up in the stream,” she huffed, tugging at Elarion’s sleeve. “There’s mud everywhere.”
Elarion chuckled and nodded toward a familiar bend in the trail. “We’ll rest near the water then. Just be careful and don’t wander far.”
The quiet settled easily around them as they stopped to make camp, the soft rush of the stream nearby. For the Lythari, night carried no fear. The moon and stars were kin, the wilds their sanctuary. Even in shadow, their senses were sharp, and the forest felt more like home than any stone-walled city ever could. So, they did not rush. They simply moved through the dark with quiet trust, letting the sky stretch overhead like a well-worn cloak.
And in that stillness, something softer began to take root.
The forest at night seemed to shimmer. Moonlight spilled through the woven shadows of branches, and fireflies blinked between leaves, casting a soft, bewitching light.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he had suggested this.
Nor could he fully understand why a noble-born princess was now sleeping so peacefully beside him, here in the open. She ought to have been wrapped in thick duvets, cradled by swan feather pillows, and tucked safely behind silk-draped windows.
But Iris had been delighted by the idea of napping beneath the stars. Though she had often slept outdoors during her travels, it was always inside a tent or bundled in a proper sleeping roll. Never directly on earth and grass.
Of course, Elarion hadn’t let her lie directly on the ground. He had laid his coat down for her, all the while wondering if it was too presumptuous to offer something so worn and plain. Yet she had accepted it with a smile, drawing the fabric close and even sniffing it once, which had nearly made him combust on the spot. He had briefly worried whether the soap he bought from a passing caravan still lingered in the threads.
His concern, however, proved unnecessary. She had fallen asleep not long after lying down. Her hair fanned out around her like spilled moonlight, reminding him of the northern lights that danced above cliff edges in deep winter. Mesmerising. Just like her.
And dare he admit it — he was mesmerised.
Watching over her in such a vulnerable state stirred something quiet in him. A sense of pride, perhaps. And beneath that, to his own discomfort, a flicker of something possessive. He despised how natural it felt. He had no right to feel such a thing. Whatever this was, it was a trespass he would not name aloud.
They came from different worlds. No matter how grounded or kind she might be, their paths would surely drift apart in the end.
The thought stung. His hand curled against the grass.
Then he felt it.
Something slender and warm wrapped around his arm. A breath danced across the back of his hand, light and fluttering like a feather caught on the breeze.
He froze.
A blush rose sharply across his cheeks, creeping down his neck and making the freckles on his skin stand out like stars beneath the moonlight. His fingers twitched as he attempted to withdraw his hand without waking her, but the moment he shifted, she exhaled a soft sigh.
“I... Iris,” he whispered. His other hand hovered hesitantly, then reached to gently nudge her shoulder. She felt light beneath his fingers, and his heart skipped, sharp and startled. “Wake up.”
His quiet plea was met with silence. She remained still, her breathing even, her body curled close beside his.
Her cheeks puffed slightly in her sleep, and his gaze wandered before he could help it. What would they feel like? The question appeared uninvited. Before his better judgment could intervene, his hand hovered above her cheek, fingers trembling. His knuckles brushed her skin. Barely a touch, light as a dragonfly on still water.
So soft. Too soft. And perhaps... squishy?
His fingers twitched.
Was he about to pinch her? Gods, no.
She murmured something unintelligible, likely stirred by the touch, and a jolt of panic shot through him. He went rigid, wide-eyed and utterly undone. Iris had only meant to nap while Ayda took her little break. She would be back any moment. There was no way he could allow himself to be caught like this.
But fate, of course, never listened.
A glint of silver flickered between the trees. Soft footsteps padded over leaves. Ayda emerged into the clearing and stopped completely still. Her wide eyes took in the scene with full gravity. One hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. The other lifted to point directly at Elarion, as if she were witnessing a crime no apology could undo.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” he whisper-shrieked, flailing his free hand as though he might physically shoo away the entire situation.
A quiet groan drifted up from beside him.
He froze again. He had, quite genuinely, lost count of how many times now. His limbs refused to move. His blood had abandoned him. And his face was burning. A painfully amusing contrast, he suspected. Iris would certainly say so, if she were awake.
Ayda stepped closer, slowly, her face caught somewhere between judgment and curiosity. Her eyes met his. Hers were calm. His were pure panic. And just as her shadow reached the coat laid on the moss, Iris stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, drowsy and unfocused, catching the firelight like polished gems. Her hand, which had been curled loosely around his, slipped away.
Elarion sat up at once, yanking his arms back as if he had been burned. His posture was tense, too tense, the kind that made it seem as though he had been caught in the act of something wildly inappropriate.
“Good morning…” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep. Her gaze found him briefly. It was soft and gleaming, and it made something falter inside his chest.
“G-Good morning,” he stammered, though it came out strained and hoarse.
Ayda, mercifully, broke the tension. “Good morning!” she chirped, launching herself at Iris and wrapping both arms around her.
“How was your nap? Aren’t the stars pretty tonight?”
Iris smiled, still half-drowsy, gently smoothing Ayda’s hair while quickly tidying her own.
“It was lovely,” she said. “I haven’t napped that well in ages.” Her fingers moved deftly, braiding the child’s hair. “But I didn’t really see the stars. Let’s stargaze properly later.”
Elarion had retreated to the edge of the camp by now, hands busying themselves with their packs. He kept his eyes anywhere but on Iris, praying she hadn’t noticed what had happened. Or, if she had, that she had decided to spare him.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her glance his way.
“I don’t know what soap Elarion uses on his clothes,” she said casually, “but it smells wonderful. It made falling asleep very easy.”
She gave Ayda a squeeze and leaned in to sniff her playfully. “You smell sweet too.”
Their laughter rang through the trees, bright and effortless.
Elarion muttered something unintelligible to a buckle strap and kept tightening it. They continued their journey not long after. Iris and Ayda walked ahead, still laughing, their voices mingling like wind-chimes in the forest air.
Elarion lingered behind, his feet moving steadily, his chest just a little lighter.
He glanced back at them once. Iris walking beneath the trees. Ayda’s silver braids swinging with every step.
A quiet feeling stirred in him. Hopeful. Hesitant. But real.
Later that afternoon, Ayda darted ahead in pursuit of a bird she had spotted, one she recognised from his sketchbook. She called out its name with excitement, her small feet pattering over the mossy path. Elarion and Iris followed at a gentler pace, their steps unhurried beneath the dappled light.
The air between them had shifted. Calmer now, but tinged with something more difficult to name. Elarion could feel Iris watching him. Not in judgment or scrutiny, but with a kind of steady attention that set his nerves on edge in the strangest way.
She drifted closer. Close enough that their arms might have touched if the breeze had nudged them just so.
“So…” she said in a lilting voice. “Were my cheeks soft?”
He stopped walking. Completely.
His entire body locked up. His ears flushed scarlet. His jaw clenched into a straight line as he tried to will the ground into swallowing him.
“I— I was just trying to wake you!” he blurted out, flustered beyond salvation.
He flailed for justification, sputtering like a man drowning in his own explanation.
Iris bit her lip to suppress a laugh. She had never seen a Lythari shift forms, but if she had to guess, he probably looked less like a mighty wolf and more like a cat that had been unceremoniously knocked off a windowsill.
That thought alone made her laugh out loud, the sound bright and musical like wind chimes stirred by a spring breeze.
Elarion winced.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still laughing softly. “I was only teasing. I didn’t mind. Actually… it felt nice. Cosy, even. Thank you.”
His face somehow grew redder. He muttered a strangled “You’re welcome,” then quickly walked ahead, desperate for space and dignity.
Gods above, he groaned in his mind. I was caught red-handed. And what in all the planes does she mean by she didn’t mind? Wait. She didn’t mind?
Behind him, Iris watched quietly as he fled, a soft smile curving her lips. His ears twitched furiously as he walked, betraying everything he wished to hide.
He really is cute, she thought.
And then, with a small sigh, she confessed to herself, “Oh Sune, I really am weak for a handsome face.”
They continued on, the three of them wrapped in the warmth of movement and trees. Elarion, utterly mortified. Iris, quietly delighted. And Ayda, skipping ahead without a care in the world, chasing birds and wonder wherever they led.