Since their first meeting, Estella and Alden had formed a strange but beautiful friendship. Every time Gareth came to the palace to deliver sword orders, Alden found a way to slip away to the back garden. Estella, for her part, always waited eagerly, though she tried to hide it from the servants and guards.
For Estella, who lived in the shadow of royal rules, Alden's stories were a window into a world she had never seen. For Alden, talking with Estella felt like magic, like speaking to a star that had come down to earth.
One afternoon, they sat beneath the great oak tree in the palace garden, their favorite spot. The leaves swayed gently in the breeze, and the birds' singing made a soothing harmony.
"Is life in the village really as lovely as you make it sound?" Estella asked, gazing at the blue sky between the leaves.
Alden nodded eagerly. "It's busy, but in a good way. In the morning, the market is full of merchants calling out their goods. There's fresh fruit, colorful cloth, and handmade crafts. In the evening, the children play in the little stream. Sometimes we sit under a big tree and listen to old stories from the village elders."
Estella smiled and closed her eyes, picturing everything Alden described. "That sounds... free. I'd love to see it someday."
Alden had been whittling a twig with his small knife. He stopped and looked at her. "I could take you there," he said with a wide smile. "I know all the best places in the village. The stream with the clearest water, the hill where the sunset looks like a sea of fire, and the apple orchard where the apples taste like... treasure."
Estella laughed softly, her voice like a silver bell ringing through the garden. "Treasure? Are the apples truly magical, or were you just very hungry when you ate them?" she teased.
"Hey!" Alden pretended to be offended and slapped his knee. "They're really good. You have to try one yourself to believe it. I'll pick one for you."
Estella knew the offer could never come true, but she answered with a warm smile. "You always make everything sound so easy, Alden. Sadly, I can't just leave the palace. My father would be furious."
Alden fell quiet for a moment. He knew how hard life was for Estella inside the palace. Though she was a princess, she didn't have the freedom a girl her age should have.
"Then," Alden said softly, "I'll keep telling you everything. So you'll feel like you've already been there."
Estella's green eyes shone as she looked at him gently. "That's enough. Your stories make me feel like I'm part of the world out there."
************
Day by day, their friendship grew closer. Alden began bringing small gifts every time he came to the palace: a bundle of wildflowers, a tiny wood carving, or an oddly shaped pebble from his village stream.
"What's this?" Estella asked one day, when Alden handed her a flat, blue-green stone.
"I found it in the stream. Its color reminds me of the sky on a cloudless night. I thought you'd like it," Alden said, scratching his head, a little awkward.
Estella looked at the stone in wonder, then smiled wide. "It's beautiful. Thank you, Alden. You always bring little things that make my days brighter."
Alden smiled shyly, but his heart felt warm at her words.
Estella began to share little things about her life in the palace, too. She told him about the palace dogs that were always chasing the servants, about the senior maid who always frowned but was actually kind-hearted, and about her father's habit of reading war books while muttering strategies to himself.
"Sometimes I think my father is too serious," Estella said with a sigh. "He wants me to be like him, but I want... something else."
"Like what?" Alden asked.
Estella looked into the distance, at the tall tower peaks of the palace. "I want to see the world. Meet new people. Be part of something bigger than these walls."
Alden nodded seriously. "Then you should. Someday, when the time is right."
Estella smiled, though deep down she knew how hard that would be. Still, Alden's words always gave her hope, however small.
Living such different lives, Estella and Alden found comfort in each other. They were two children who dreamed of a wider world, even if the road to that dream seemed impossible. But to them, the garden was their own little world, a place where no class or rule could keep them apart.
Years passed, and the bond between Estella and Alden grew into something more than ordinary friendship. Whenever Gareth brought an order to the palace, Alden was no longer just there to help his father. With an eagerness he could hardly hide, he hoped to meet Estella in their garden.
Estella, for her part, was always waiting. Even though her life was full of rules, she always found a way to slip away from the servants' watchful eyes. The habit grew riskier as they grew older, but Estella didn't care.
One night, beneath the soft light of the moon, they met in the garden as usual. The great oak tree in the corner stood as a silent witness to every story and laugh they shared. But tonight was different. Something hung in the air, a tension they had never felt before.
"Alden," Estella began in a low voice, almost a whisper, "have you ever thought about leaving the village? Seeing the wider world?"
Alden had been weaving twigs into a little boat. His hands stopped. He looked at Estella, his eyes full of questions.
"I..." Alden hesitated. "I don't know if that world is meant for me. My life is simple, Estella. I only know how to make swords and other tools. The world out there... sounds so big and frightening."
Estella moved closer and sat beside him on the grass. "But you have courage, Alden. You're different from the others. I know you can face anything."
Alden gave a faint smile, his eyes on the star-filled night sky. "I don't know about that. But if I could be with someone like you, I'd be brave."
His words left Estella silent. Her heart pounded, and for a moment she lost her words. Her face flushed faintly in the moonlight. She didn't know how to answer, but she felt warm all over, as if his words were an invisible embrace.
"I..." Estella finally spoke, her voice trembling a little. "I want so badly to get out of here, Alden. Out of this palace, out of these walls. Sometimes I feel like a bird in a golden cage. Everything looks beautiful, but I've never truly been free."
Alden turned to her, trying to understand a feeling he had never known himself. "Estella... you may not be able to leave now, but someday you'll fly. I'm sure of it."
Estella smiled a little, though her eyes were glistening. "You always make everything sound so easy."
"It's not easy," Alden said, his tone more serious. "But I know you're strong. And if you ever need someone to help you open that cage, I'll be there."
For a moment, there was only silence between them. The night wind blew softly, carrying the scent of roses from the garden.
"Alden," Estella said at last, her voice barely audible. "If I leave... will you still stay by my side?"
Alden looked at her with a sincere gaze that made Estella feel the world wasn't as bad as she had thought. "For as long as I can still walk, Estella, I'll always be by your side."
That night, they said nothing more. They simply sat there, sharing warmth in silence, while the moon above bore witness to a promise spoken so softly.
The promise remained, kept in each of their hearts like a seed waiting for its time to grow. They didn't know that this night would become one of their most precious memories, one that would one day comfort them on a long road full of hardships.
And though their words were simple, the feelings hidden behind them were something everlasting.
************
Alden stood in the grand hall of the Thalpegas Palace, his heart pounding. The hall was lined with towering marble pillars, its floor gleamed like a mirror, and the candlelight cast trembling reflections of him. Yet all that beauty could not calm the nervousness spreading through his body.
Today, Alden turned seventeen. In his hands he held a sword he had forged himself. Every strike of the hammer that shaped it was a mark of his resolve, and every engraving on the blade was a reminder of his love for Estella.
He looked straight ahead at King Eldoria, ruler of the Kingdom of Thalpegas, who sat on his golden throne in magnificent royal robes. The king's gaze was as sharp as a blade, cold and full of judgment.
"Your Majesty," Alden began, his voice shaking, "I have come... to ask for your permission."
King Eldoria straightened, his brows drawn together. He looked at Alden as if the boy were filth tracked across the palace floor. "My permission?" he said slowly, his voice booming through the empty hall. "Why would a blacksmith's son ask for my permission?"
Alden drew a deep breath, trying to gather his courage. "Your Majesty, I know I am nobody. I am only a blacksmith from a small village. But I love Princess Estella... and I wish to ask for her hand."
The words echoed, and a suffocating silence fell over the hall. The guards on duty stared at Alden with wide eyes, stunned by the boldness of this village boy.
The king rose slowly from his throne, his robes sweeping behind him like a shadow of darkness. He stepped forward with firm strides, each footfall seeming to strike Alden's heart.
"You... wish to marry my daughter?" the king asked, his tone low but dangerous.
"Yes, Your Majesty. I love her. And I swear to protect her with all my life," Alden answered with complete sincerity, though his hands trembled around the sword.
The king laughed. It was a cold, mocking laugh that rang through the whole hall. It was more than a refusal. It was an insult to everything Alden was.
"You? A village boy whose hands know nothing but forging filthy iron, stained with soot?" the king sneered. "Do you think you are worthy even to speak her name in front of me?"
Alden said nothing, but the look in his eyes showed he would not back down.
King Eldoria stepped closer, glaring down at Alden with eyes full of rage. "Listen well, blacksmith's boy," he said, his voice sharp as a sword's edge. "My daughter is of royal blood, heir to the throne of Thalpegas. She will not marry a lowborn dreamer like you. She is worthy only of a prince, or a hero whose name will be remembered through history."
He paused, his eyes narrowing with contempt. "And you... you do not even deserve to set foot on my palace floor. Coming here is an insult. How dare you dream of touching the sky when your feet are still stuck in village mud."
Alden clenched his fists tighter, holding back the anger and pain that surged in his chest. But the king was not done.
"If you keep forcing this, you will bring only ruin. Ruin to your family, ruin to their good name, and ruin to yourself. I will never allow my daughter to be tainted by a bond with someone like you. You are a disgrace."
Alden lowered his head, not out of fear, but because the heartbreak was too heavy to bear. The words cut deeper than any sword he had ever made.
The king raised his hand and pointed to the great doors at the far end of the hall. "Get out of my palace. And never come back. If I see you here again, I will not hesitate to make an example of you for anyone who dares to dream as you do."
Without a word, Alden turned around. His footsteps echoed through the silent hall, and each step felt like a needle piercing his heart.
On the balcony overlooking the palace garden, Estella stood behind a white curtain. Her eyes followed Alden's shadow as he slowly walked away. She knew what had happened. She knew what her father had said. Tears began to gather in her eyes.
"Alden..." she murmured softly, almost like a prayer. "Forgive me... I couldn't do anything."
From that day on, Alden never again set foot past the palace gates. Whenever his father's smithy received an order from the palace, Alden delivered it only as far as the gate, his face blank. He handed the boxes of swords and shields to the guards, then left without a word.
Yet his steps always slowed as he walked away. His heart cried out for him to stop and turn back, but King Eldoria's words still echoed in his mind, crushing every intention he had. "I'm not worthy," he thought again and again. "Not even to simply be by her side."
From a distance, Alden often gazed at the palace balcony rising above the garden. His eyes always searched for that white curtain, the one that had once fluttered gently on a night full of memories. Sometimes he hoped to see Estella's silhouette there, but he quickly looked down before that hope could grow. "I'll only hurt her more," he muttered to himself.
Estella, meanwhile, never stopped waiting. Whenever the cart from the smithy arrived at the palace gate, she ran to her balcony at once. With a racing heart, she scanned the gate, hoping to see Alden there.
When she finally spotted him from afar, his blond hair tossed by the wind and his steady stride unmistakable, a faint smile always rose on her face, like finding a diamond in the middle of a desert. But the smile quickly faded, because Alden never once looked her way.
She watched as Alden stood for only a moment, handed over the order, then turned and left. Every step he took away from the gate felt like a dagger in her heart. Estella clenched her fists, trying to hold back her tears.
"Why don't you look at me, Alden?" she whispered, though she knew no one could hear.
Estella's nights were filled with thoughts of Alden. She remembered his smile, his easy laughter, and the way he brought the outside world into her confined life. Now that warmth felt far away, like the sun sinking below the horizon.
"Was I wrong to let him go that day?" Estella murmured to herself. "Should I have run after him and stopped him? Was I too much of a coward to defy Father's will?"
In the village, Alden couldn't escape their memories either. Every night, as he sat in the smithy watching the fire cast shadows on the stone walls, his thoughts always returned to Estella.
He remembered her laughter as she listened to his stories about the village, and how her green eyes lit up when he talked about the wildflowers growing outside the palace walls. But now all those memories felt like thorns.
"What good is any of it now?" Alden said to himself, his voice full of frustration. "I'm only a blacksmith. There's no place for me in Estella's world."
Still, Alden couldn't stay away completely. Whenever an order came from the palace, he always chose to go along and deliver it, even though the pain grew every time he saw that gate. He didn't hope to meet Estella. He only wanted to keep one small thread of connection, a sliver of hope he knew he could never hold.
Estella, meanwhile, began to feel a deeper wound. It wasn't only the distance between them, but also Alden's behavior, which seemed like a deliberate attempt to avoid her.
"Do you hate me now, Alden?" Estella asked herself on a quiet night, sitting on her balcony and staring blankly at the moon. "Do you think I wanted this to happen? I never chose to be born a princess."
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The distance between them grew, not only in steps but in their hearts. Yet deep within each of them, the feelings remained: longing never spoken, love too afraid to be admitted, and a pain that slowly gnawed at them.
From behind the white curtain on her balcony, Estella clenched her fists, her heart full of unspoken prayers. Meanwhile, in the village, Alden gazed at the palace from afar, wondering if someday his small dream might find its way home.
But both of them knew the high palace walls were not the only barrier between them. A greater world lay beyond, full of battles they would have to face, both outside and within their own hearts.
************
The night was cold, and the wind carried whispers of fear. The small village where Alden lived felt quieter than usual. There was no laughter from children playing in the streets, no calls from the merchants in the market. There were only faint whispers, carrying bad news from the north.
Velkrath, a great kingdom famed for its impenetrable walls, had fallen in a single night. No one knew how the army of King Raimond III of the Kingdom of Loniest, a ruler known for his arrogance, had broken through. The stories passed among the merchants made the hair on people's necks stand on end: the city had been burned from within, as if hell itself had risen to devour it.
A witness who had managed to escape said that Raimond III's army was more than just soldiers. They were monsters, clawed creatures with glowing red eyes that never slept and never tired. The people of Velkrath were made slaves. Children were torn from their parents, and their screams echoed through the night. The strong men were bound together with heavy chains and forced to stand at the front of the army as living shields.
The horror did not end there. The beautiful women were taken away. No one knew where, but everyone knew their fate would not be a kind one. Those considered useless were slaughtered without mercy. Blood ran through the streets, forming red pools that reflected the flames devouring the city.
Velkrath was only the beginning. Within months, three more kingdoms followed, destroyed in the same way. From the ruins of those kingdoms, only despair remained.
In Alden's small village, the news arrived through palace soldiers who came to visit his father's smithy. They arrived with grim faces, carrying a new order for weapons in huge numbers. Alden noticed that one of the soldiers could not hide the tremor in his hands as he spoke.
"What's happening?" Alden asked, his voice shaking.
The soldier did not answer right away. He only lowered his head, then said in a low voice, "They're getting closer."
Alden could not sleep that night. The stories he had heard haunted his mind. He pictured children torn from their parents, and the desperate cry of a mother who could no longer hold her child. He pictured the men standing with empty eyes at the front of the army, knowing their lives were nothing more than flesh shields to protect the monsters behind them.
His thoughts then turned to Estella. What if Raimond III's army reached Thalpegas? He imagined Estella dragged from the palace and treated like property by those fiends. His hands clenched, and anger burned in his chest.
"I won't let that happen," he murmured softly, but firmly.
But in the silence of the night, doubt crept in. Who was he, an ordinary blacksmith's son, to think he could stand against a force that had destroyed great kingdoms? He was only a swordsmith, someone who knew how to forge steel, not how to swing it.
In the small smithy, Alden stared at the fire burning in the furnace. Its glow cast his shadow on the stone wall: a young man with eyes full of doubt, but also a little hope. He knew that if he kept living like this, only making swords for others, he would never be able to protect anyone.
"I have to change," he whispered to himself. "If I'm not good enough as a blacksmith, then I'll become more than that. I'll become someone who is respected, even by a king."
The resolve slowly grew in his heart, like an ember beginning to burn bright. Alden knew the road ahead would be full of danger, but he also knew he could no longer stand by. If he wanted to protect Estella, his village, and himself, he had to become more than just a blacksmith's son.
The days that followed in Thalpegas were thick with tension. The royal soldiers trained hard and patrolled the kingdom's lands on a regular basis, while the villagers reinforced the walls and stocked up on food in case war truly came.
Alden helped his father finish the steady stream of orders for swords and spears. Still, his mind never found peace. Every time he shaped steel on the anvil, each strike of the hammer rang like a bell calling him to the battlefield.
One night, when everyone was asleep, Alden walked out of the forge and gazed at the starry sky. He thought of Estella, and of how she would survive if Thalpegas fell. Alden knew that, as a princess, Estella would suffer a far worse fate if the enemy kingdom captured her.
The sun had just risen over the hills, lighting the small village of Thalpegas, which was still wrapped in dew. In front of the modest forge, Alden stood with a face full of resolve. The cold morning wind brushed his cheeks, but he did not flinch. A sword, the product of his hard work and long nights, was slung across his back. A small bag of supplies was tied at his waist, light but full of hope, and the sword-shaped pendant was tucked away beneath his shirt.
His father, Gareth, stood beside the forge door. The old man held a smithing hammer in one hand, as if he wanted to say something important but hesitated to speak. He had watched his son grow, from a small boy fascinated by the forge fire into the young man who now stood before him, ready to leave everything they had ever known.
"Alden...," Gareth said, his voice breaking the quiet of the morning. "I know you've been thinking about this for a long time. But the world out there isn't like this village. It won't care about your resolve, your courage, or even your heart. The world is harsh and merciless. You could get hurt... or worse."
Alden looked at his father with a small, confident smile. "Father," he said gently, "I've lived long enough in the shadow of this forge. I've made swords for other people and listened to their stories of adventure, war, and honor. It's time I forged myself. If I fail, at least I'll know I tried. I can't keep living without knowing what I'm capable of."
Gareth took a deep breath, trying to hold back his emotions. He knew no words could stop his son. With heavy steps, he went to Alden and pulled him into a tight embrace, just as he had when Alden was little and afraid of the shadows at night.
"Take care of yourself, son," he whispered in a hoarse voice. "And remember, no matter what happens, come home. This forge... this house... will always be your refuge."
Alden closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his father's embrace. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Gareth let go. His gaze was firm, but pride and deep worry showed in his eyes.
Alden turned to face the path that would lead him out of the village. His first step felt heavy, as if every childhood memory were pulling him back. But with each step that followed, the weight began to lift, replaced by a feeling of freedom that slowly grew.
He walked through the market, which was beginning to fill with people. Fruit sellers called out to customers, children ran about laughing, and the creak of cart wheels filled the morning air. Some neighbors waved at him, while others simply watched with curiosity, wondering where the young man was going with such determination in his eyes.
Alden stopped in the middle of the great stone bridge, his legs heavy even though his heart had already made its decision. Ahead of him, the Thalpegas palace stood majestic, its tower tops reaching into the sky. His eyes were fixed on the balcony where he used to see Estella standing, greeting him with a smile that always felt like the first light of the sun.
But this morning, the balcony was empty. The thin white curtain fluttered in the wind, as if waving an unspoken farewell. Alden's chest tightened with feelings he could not put into words. He clenched his fists, steeling himself against the turmoil in his heart.
"Estella...," he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the wind. "I can't see you again. I have no right... not yet, at least. I must become more than just a blacksmith's son."
He took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. For the first time in his life, he felt a loss he could not express. Yet that loss only strengthened his resolve. He lifted his head and looked at the palace one last time, bidding it farewell with a gaze full of promise that only he knew.
Behind the white curtain, Estella stood with both hands clenched tightly against her chest. She had watched Alden cross the bridge from his very first step. Her heart pounded, torn between the urge to shout his name and the need to keep the dignity of the kingdom. She knew that her father, the king, had refused Alden's suit and driven them apart, and that the Alden she knew would never break that sense of honor.
Her eyes welled up, but she refused to cry. "You will come back, Alden," she whispered softly. "You will surely come back."
She wanted to wave, to signal that she was still here, waiting. But her body felt stiff, as if afraid of worsening the wound that had already opened in both their hearts.
Alden, unaware of her presence, remained standing on the bridge. After a moment, he nodded slowly toward the palace, as if making a silent promise, and then walked away.
Estella stayed on the balcony, watching Alden's back grow ever more distant. Each step he took seemed to carry away a small piece of her heart. When his figure shrank into a shadow at the edge of the horizon, the tears she had been holding back finally fell down her cheeks.
"Come back quickly... safe and sound," she murmured, words that only she could hear.
The wind carried her whisper to Alden's back, which now looked like a tiny dot in the distance. Estella closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself with prayer and the hope that one day their paths would cross again.
Meanwhile, on the stone road stretching far from the palace, Alden kept walking without looking back. His burning heart pushed him forward.
"I will come back, Estella. I will come back as someone worthy of you."
The morning wind stirred his hair, carrying the scent of earth and leaves wet with dew. The sound of his footsteps on the stone road was firm, a rhythm that seemed to reflect the strength of his resolve. All along the way, the image of Estella on the balcony stayed in his mind, a light guiding him down a road full of challenges.
From the palace balcony, Estella kept gazing toward the bridge, even though Alden was no longer in sight. The white curtain behind her fluttered softly, as if responding to the hope buried in her heart.
"I believe in you, Alden," she whispered. "Come home safe."
In the distance, Alden walked on with steadier steps. Today was the beginning of a long journey that would forge him along the way.