The forest was silent now, save for the occasional crackle of burning branches and the low hiss of insects. The smell of blood still lingered faintly in the air.

Oliver pushed aside the thick underbrush, his boots crunching over the leaves until his eyes caught a flash of silver and crimson ahead.

He froze.

Lying amidst the fallen leaves was Elisha, the princess—her once-white cloak soaked through with blood.

"Damn it…" he muttered, rushing to her side. Her breathing was shallow, but steady; her pulse faint, yet present. Relief flickered through him. "You're lucky I found you when I did."

He uncorked a potion and gently poured it over her wounds. The liquid hissed softly, the cuts knitting closed in glowing trails. She didn't stir.

With a sigh, Oliver sat back, glancing up at the night sky. The sun had long vanished behind the horizon; darkness blanketed the forest, broken only by faint moonlight.

"Looks like we're camping here," he murmured.

He gathered a few fallen branches and used a weak Ignis spell. Sparks flew, catching the dry bark. Soon, a small campfire flickered to life, its warm glow washing over the clearing.

He leaned back against a tree, resting his sword nearby, eyes drifting toward Elisha's sleeping form. Her veil was gone, and for the first time, he could see her clearly — pale skin, delicate features, long silver-blonde hair stained with blood and dirt. Even in this state, she looked… noble. Untouchable.

Oliver exhaled slowly. "Royalty sure knows how to find trouble."

He waited there, quietly feeding the fire, keeping one eye on the forest's shadowed edges. Hours passed before she finally stirred.

A faint groan escaped her lips as she tried to sit up, clutching her side. The firelight danced across her face when she turned toward him. "You…" she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You saved me?"

Oliver gave a small, tired smile. "Yeah."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Because you hired me."

Elisha blinked, then actually laughed — soft and breathless. "That's… very mercenary of you."

"Comes with the job." He tossed another stick into the fire. "You should rest. You lost a lot of blood."

She hesitated, then sat beside him anyway, her hands extended toward the flame. "Thank you," she said quietly.

They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling between them. Then Oliver broke it.

"So, I've been meaning to ask…" he said, turning slightly toward her. "Why is a princess leading an expedition into a monster-infested forest? Doesn't seem like something nobles do for fun."

Her expression tightened. For a long moment, she said nothing — just watched the fire. Then she sighed. "I suppose you deserve to know, since you've already risked your life for me."

Oliver waited, saying nothing.

"There's a… power struggle," she began softly. "Back in the capital. My elder brother—Prince Aldric—controls most of the court. The nobles, the army, even my father's advisors. He's tightening his hold every day, pushing me out of sight."

Her fingers curled over her knees. "I tried diplomacy. Alliances. Nothing worked. My name was being erased one decree at a time. So I chose to act differently."

"You came here," Oliver said.

She nodded. "In the royal archives, there are old records — expedition logs from my great-great-grandfather's reign. He led a grand conquest into this very forest, searching for something hidden here — resources, ancient artifacts, maybe even a divine relic. He took immense wealth and countless mages with him… and never returned."

Oliver frowned. "So you think his treasures are still here?"

"Not just treasure," Elisha said, her eyes reflecting the firelight. "The records mentioned 'a core of bound light.' My ancestor called it the Heart of Elaris — something said to amplify magic beyond mortal limits. If I can retrieve it, I can secure my position, win back the people's support, and challenge my brother's rule."

Oliver leaned back, whistling softly. "So, to beat your brother, you're diving into a forest that's killed everyone who's ever entered it."

She gave a small, wry smile. "When you put it that way, it sounds quite reckless."

"It is reckless."

"Maybe," she said, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. "But it's my only chance."

Oliver poked at the fire, watching the sparks drift into the air. "Do you even know where this 'Heart of Elaris' is supposed to be? The forest's huge. You can't search every inch."

"Not the whole forest," Elisha replied. "We've narrowed it down to the inner region — near the ruins of the first expedition. No one's ever made it there… but the archives hinted at its location. That's what I'm betting everything on."

Oliver nodded slowly. "So that's the plan, huh? Survive long enough to find a ghost of a treasure your ancestors lost."

She smiled faintly. "Exactly."

"Sounds insane," he said, smirking.

"Then you fit right in."

Oliver chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "You really are something, Princess."

The fire crackled softly, throwing golden light across their faces. Around them, the forest whispered — unseen eyes glimmering in the dark — but for that brief moment, neither of them cared.

For now, it was just the two of them, sitting by the fire beneath the endless night sky.

*****

The flames had burned low, dim embers glowing like sleeping eyes in the dark. A sharp wind whispered through the trees, curling around the clearing and sending cold ripples across their skin.

Oliver noticed her first — Elisha's shoulders trembling under the shredded remnants of her cloak, her lips faintly pale in the flickering firelight.

"You're freezing," he said quietly.

"I'm fine," she murmured, but her voice wavered.

He sighed, unfastened his thick overcoat, and extended it toward her. "Here."

She hesitated for a moment, eyes flickering between him and the coat, before reaching out. But as she tried to wrap it around herself, her shivers only grew stronger — the fabric too wide, the air still biting.

"Tch. You'll catch a cold at this rate," Oliver muttered. Without another word, he shifted closer. "Come here."

Her eyes widened. "Wh–what are you—"

"Just for warmth," he said with a crooked grin, voice low. "Nothing more."

He slipped the coat around both of them, pulling her gently against his chest. For a moment, she stiffened — every muscle tense — before slowly relaxing into the heat that radiated between them.

Her hair brushed against his chin, the faint scent of lilies reaching his senses. The warmth of her body seeped through the thin layers of fabric separating them, her breathing soft but quick.

Oliver couldn't help but smile faintly. "Better?"

She nodded faintly, though her voice came out barely above a whisper. "It's… warmer."

Oliver smiled faintly, pulling the coat tighter around her. "Good. Don't move too much. You'll let the cold in."

But the closeness was too much to ignore. Her hair — soft as silk — brushed against his face, carrying the faint scent of lilac and ash. Each time she breathed, he could feel it through his chest, slow and uneven. His hands rested across her stomach, his arms enclosing her entirely as if the world beyond that small space didn't exist.

Elisha's pulse raced. She'd never been this close to anyone — certainly not a man. Her mind screamed for composure, but her body refused to listen.

"Y-You're too close," she whispered.

Oliver chuckled, low and teasing. "We're sharing warmth, remember? Can't have you turning into an ice sculpture."

Her cheeks burned red in the firelight, and she turned her face away, but he could see the way her lips trembled — half from cold, half from something else entirely.

Minutes passed. The cold receded, replaced by an unbearable heat between them. Oliver's breath brushed the side of her neck; her fingers twitched, clutching at his sleeve. Every small motion — every shallow breath — sent shivers through her.

"Your Highness," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper against her ear, "you're shaking again."

She didn't respond. She couldn't.

The fire crackled. Somewhere, an owl called.

He turned her slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet — his warm, steady gaze meeting hers wide and uncertain. The firelight painted her lips gold, her eyes trembling with something she didn't quite understand.

Oliver's hand lifted, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. "You really shouldn't look at someone like that," he murmured.

"L-Like what?" she stammered.

"Like you're waiting for me to do something stupid."

The kiss was slow at first—testing, gentle. Her lips parted on a soft gasp, and he took the invitation, deepening it. One hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek. The other slid to her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Elisha made a small sound—half surprise, half something else—and kissed him back. Clumsy. Eager. Her fingers curled into his shirt, clutching like she was afraid he'd vanish.

His hand moved lower, skimming the curve of her hip, then up again, beneath the edge of the coat. Not pushing. Just there. Heat pooled low in her stomach, unfamiliar and dizzying.

She tasted like smoke and sweetness. He tasted like danger.

The world narrowed to breath and touch and the soft hitch of her breathing when his thumb brushed just beneath her—

Crack.

A branch snapped in the dark.

Elisha startled, jerking back just as a familiar voice pierced the stillness.

"Well, well…"

Oliver froze.

"Look at you," came the cool, unimpressed drawl. "Just a few hours apart, and you've already managed to charm another girl — and a princess this time."

"…Isolde," Oliver groaned under his breath.

"Who else?" she said, stepping out from the shadows, moonlight glinting off her silver hair. She crossed her arms, gaze sharp as she walked closer.

Before he could react, she grabbed his ear and twisted.

"Ow—ow ow ow! It hurts!"

"Good. It should." Her tone was sweetly venomous. "Do you have any idea how worried everyone was? None of the knights haven't eaten or slept, searching for the missing princess and her heroic savior—and what do I find? You two playing lovers under the moonlight."

Elisha, still flushed to her ears, couldn't meet her gaze.

Oliver laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-It's not what it looks like! She was cold, so I was just… warming her up."

"Oh really?" Isolde's eyes narrowed. "And you needed to kiss her for that?"

"...That part wasn't in the plan."

"Uh-huh." She sighed, exasperated. "You could've lit another fire, genius."

"Oh. Yeah. That… would've worked too."

"I swear," she muttered, shaking her head. Then she turned toward Elisha, her tone softening. "Here, Your Highness. Take this."

From her storage bag, she produced a fresh coat and draped it over Elisha's shoulders. "Your knight might actually kill Oliver if he saw you like that."

Elisha accepted it wordlessly, her face still burning red.

"Come on," Isolde said, grabbing Oliver by the collar. "Back to camp. You can flirt later—preferably after not nearly dying."

Oliver groaned as she dragged him along, mumbling under his breath, "You always ruin my best moments."

"Oh? It would have been better if that knight captain guy would have found you messing with her princess. I just saved you. You should be thanking me instead of ranting complains," she shot back.

Behind them, Elisha watched the two argue as they disappeared into the darkness — her hand unconsciously brushing her lips, a quiet, confused smile forming there before she followed.

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