Chapter 3: Into the Woods

Crownlands / Kingswood / Evening

The light of day had faded into the deep hues of twilight as Lucan led Buck into a secluded glade. The trees formed a protective circle, their thick canopies overhead offering shelter from the elements. The air was cooler now, a soft breeze rustling the leaves as night slowly descended upon the Kingswood.

Lucan dismounted first, his eyes scanning the area to ensure they wouldn't be easily spotted. The hidden glade was quiet, untouched by the chaos of the world beyond, offering them a brief moment of reprieve. He could still feel the tension in the air, knowing it wouldn't be long before the bandits were on the move again.

He turned to help Alys down from Buck, stepping closer as he extended his hands. "Here, let me help you," Lucan said softly, his voice low in the evening stillness.

Alys hesitated for only a moment before placing her hands in his. As she shifted her weight to dismount, Lucan's arms came around her, steadying her as her feet touched the ground. The warmth of his hands against her waist lingered longer than necessary, and their bodies briefly brushed against each other in the closeness of the moment.

For an instant, neither of them moved. A spark of something unspoken flickered between them—intense and unexpected. Alys' breath caught as she found herself looking up at Lucan, their eyes locking in the soft light filtering through the trees. She could feel the steady strength in his arms, and the sudden nearness of him made her pulse quicken.

Lucan, too, seemed momentarily frozen, aware of the closeness between them, of the way Alys' presence stirred something inside him. But just as quickly, he cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing her with a small, self-conscious smile.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice steady though there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

Alys nodded, though her heart was still racing from the subtle, fleeting connection. "Yes... thank you," she replied, her voice a bit breathless, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he had stepped away.

For a brief moment, the world around them faded into the background, replaced by the quiet intensity of the shared spark. But as Lucan turned to tend to the camp, the moment passed, leaving both of them silently wondering what had just stirred between them.

"Here, we'll camp for the night," Lucan said, turning to Alys. He extended a hand to help her down from Buck, and she accepted, her expression distant, as if her mind were still struggling to grasp the gravity of their situation.

Alys slid from Buck's back with grace, but her usual poise was marred by the weight of the day's events. She glanced around the glade, hugging herself, trying to shield herself from the overwhelming uncertainty of her new reality.

Lucan began unpacking his small provisions from Buck's saddlebags, moving with practiced efficiency. He glanced at Alys but didn't interrupt her thoughts. He knew that feeling all too well—how the world could shift in an instant, throwing everything you knew into chaos. As a hedge knight, he had learned to accept it, but for Alys, this was a new and bitter lesson.

As Lucan set up a small camp, Alys found herself sitting nearby, her fingers tracing patterns in the dirt. The quiet rustle of the fire he had built filled the air, a soft crackling that broke the silence of the glade.

"You seem used to this," Alys said softly, breaking the stillness. Her voice was gentle but held a trace of curiosity. "Wandering the woods, setting up camp. Moving from place to place like it's nothing."

Lucan chuckled, though the sound was tinged with a bit of melancholy. "It's what I know," he replied, looking at the fire as he poked at it with a stick. "Being a hedge knight means you don't have a home to return to. You go where the road takes you. There's always another town, another job, another fight. No fixed purpose, just… survival."

Alys nodded slowly, her brows furrowed in thought. "I always thought knights had this grand life. Honor, glory, fighting for a cause greater than themselves." She paused, looking over at him. "But you make it sound so… lonely."

Lucan shrugged, his gaze still focused on the flames. "Sometimes it is. But there's freedom in it, too. No one to answer to, no lords or banners to swear to. The road's been my only real companion for a long time."

Alys tilted her head, studying him in the flickering light of the fire. "That sounds both wonderful and terrible at the same time. No obligations… but no one to share the road with either."

Lucan smiled faintly. "You could say that."

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the fire warming the air between them. Lucan tended to the flames while Alys gazed at the stars starting to emerge through the tree branches above. The quiet of the night wrapped around them, a stark contrast to the chaos they had fled from earlier.

After a few moments, Alys broke the silence again. "You asked earlier who I am… the truth is, I'm not sure who that is anymore." She hesitated, her voice faltering for a moment before she continued. "I met Edric before he became king. His party traveled from Storm's End to King's Landing, and my family's keep, Bywater, was just a stop along the way. I remember sneaking away to visit a tavern, disguised as a common girl. I wanted to feel what it was like… to be ordinary."

Lucan listened intently, the firelight casting shadows on his face. "You weren't recognized?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Alys shook her head, a small, wistful smile tugging at her lips. "No, no one knew who I was that night. I was just a girl, and he was just a boy. We talked like ordinary people, not lords or heirs to thrones. I didn't even realize who he was," she paused, a softness in her voice. "It was... refreshing, in a way. Free of expectations."

Her gaze drifted as if she were back in that tavern, reliving the moment. "When we met again, formally, at Bywater Keep, I could see the recognition in his eyes. There was a spark, a memory of that night—something unguarded and real between us. Lucan watched her closely, noting the weight behind her words. The fire crackled, filling the space between them with its quiet warmth. "And how do you feel about him now?" he asked gently.

Alys fell silent for a moment, her brow furrowing as if she were sifting through her own emotions. "Now... everything's changed," she said quietly. "He's not just Edric anymore—he's the king in King's Landing. What we had, it's no longer just between us. It's become something else... a duty, an arrangement."

Alys' voice wavered, but she steadied herself. "His advisors are planning the wedding with my mother, and it's like they've taken what we had and wrapped it in a crown, smothering it. What was once real now feels... distant. Controlled." She paused, her frustration flickering beneath the surface. "It's as if we've been swept into something far bigger than either of us, and what we shared is lost in it."

Her dark brown eyes met Lucan's, a mix of vulnerability and strength in her expression, as if she was torn between the life she was destined for and the freedom she once tasted.

Alys sighed, her fingers still tracing idle patterns in the dirt. "I don't know. I care for him, truly. But I don't know if I'm ready to be queen. The responsibilities, the expectations… I feel like I'm being swallowed whole. What if I'm not enough?"

Lucan leaned forward slightly, his voice steady and calm. "You're not lost, Alys. The fact that you're questioning it means you haven't lost yourself at all. It means you're still fighting to be who you are."

She glanced up at him, a faint glimmer of hope in her eyes. "Maybe. But it feels like I'm walking a path that was chosen for me, and no matter how hard I try to steer away, I'm pulled back in."

Lucan offered her a small smile, his gaze soft. "One step at a time. You'll figure it out."

Alys smiled back, the weight of her emotions momentarily lightened by his words. "Thank you, Lucan."

The connection between them deepened in the quiet of the night. The shared vulnerability, the quiet exchange of fears and doubts, had brought them closer in ways neither of them had expected.

Lucan leaned back against the tree, the fire casting flickering shadows on the ground. "So… what's it like? Being betrothed to a king?"

Alys laughed softly, though there was a trace of sadness in the sound. "Overwhelming, mostly. There's this constant pressure to be perfect, to fit this image of what a queen should be. And sometimes I wonder if I'll ever truly feel like myself again."

Lucan watched her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he said, "Well, if it helps, you're more than just a title. I can see that much already."

Alys gave him a grateful smile, her eyes meeting his in the dim light. "Thank you, Lucan. That means more than you know."

For a while, they sat in companionable silence, the crackle of the fire and the rustle of the forest their only company. As the night deepened, they both felt the bond between them growing stronger, even if neither of them could fully acknowledge it yet.

The night sky stretched above them, vast and filled with stars. Despite the dangers that lurked in the woods, they found a moment of peace, wrapped in the flickering light of the fire and the quiet understanding that had formed between them.

Crownlands / Kingswood / Night

The fire crackled softly in the stillness of the Kingswood, casting a warm, flickering light over the small clearing where Lucan and Alys sat. The night had deepened, the sky a blanket of stars, the dense canopy of trees around them whispering with the faintest breeze. Lucan sat across from Alys, his eyes fixed on the fire, yet he couldn't shake the awareness of her presence just a few feet away.

Alys shifted on the log where she sat, her fingers absently brushing through her dark hair as she gazed into the flames. The heat of the day had given way to the cool bite of the night, but her thoughts were far from the chill in the air. Instead, they circled around Lucan—the man who had saved her, who had risked his life without question.

She stole a glance at him, watching the way the firelight danced across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the curve of his mouth, the intensity of his eyes. He seemed so sure, so steady, even in the face of danger. And yet, there was something about him that made her heart race, something about the way he looked at her earlier... like he truly saw her, not as the king's betrothed, but as Alys.

Lucan felt her eyes on him, and after a moment, he looked up, catching her gaze. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. Alys' heart quickened, and she could see something flicker in Lucan's eyes, something that mirrored the feeling stirring inside her.

The fire crackled again, breaking the silence, but neither of them moved.

"I never thought I'd be in a situation like this," Alys whispered, her voice barely above a murmur, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile moment was building between them.

Lucan's brow furrowed slightly. "Situations like these aren't uncommon for a hedge knight," he replied softly, though his tone carried a weight that suggested this was different.

Alys smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "No... I mean feeling like this."

Lucan's gaze darkened with understanding, and he shifted uncomfortably, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to stand. He could feel the pull between them, the invisible thread drawing him closer to her, the woman who wasn't just a noblewoman in danger but something more—a connection he hadn't expected.

"I know I owe you my life," Alys continued, her voice trembling slightly. "But it's more than that, Lucan. I feel... safe with you. Not just from the bandits, but from everything else. The expectations, the weight of who I'm supposed to be."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and Lucan could feel his resolve weakening. He had been trying to keep his distance, to maintain a barrier between them. She was betrothed to the king, a man far above Lucan's station. But the way she looked at him, the softness in her voice, the vulnerability in her eyes—it was more than he could resist.

"Alys," Lucan murmured, his voice low and strained. "This... this isn't—"

Before he could finish, Alys closed the distance between them, moving toward him with a sudden boldness that took him by surprise. Her hand reached out, brushing lightly against his cheek, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him.

"Don't," she whispered, her eyes searching his face. "Don't pull away."

Lucan's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct told him to move, to stop this before it went too far, but he couldn't. Not with her so close, not with the warmth of her hand on his skin, not with the way her eyes pleaded with him.

He didn't move.

Alys leaned in, her breath soft against his lips, her scent—a faint hint of lavender—wrapped around him as she closed the space between them. Her lips brushed against his, tentative at first, like the softest whisper of a question. The sensation sent a shiver down Lucan's spine. For a moment, he thought to pull away, to remind them both of the boundaries they shouldn't cross. But when Alys hesitated, hovering there, waiting, Lucan's resolve crumbled.

His hand slipped around her waist, fingers brushing the fabric of her gown before pulling her gently toward him. The warmth of her body against his stirred something primal, a hunger that had been lurking just beneath the surface. Her kiss deepened, no longer a question but a demand, and Lucan found himself responding in kind. His free hand cupped the side of her face, feeling the softness of her skin under his calloused palm. She tasted of something sweet and delicate, her lips moving against his with a fervor that matched his own.

For a moment, the world fell away—the fire crackling softly beside them, the night pressing in around them, none of it mattered. There were no bandits, no duties, no betrothals. Just them, in this fleeting, stolen moment. He inhaled deeply, catching the scent of lavender from her hair mingled with the smell of wood smoke and leather clinging to him. The sensation of her closeness was intoxicating, her warmth grounding him in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

Alys melted into him, her hands gripping his tunic as if to anchor herself in the whirlwind of emotions that surged between them. Her heart raced against his chest, her breath coming in short, heated bursts between kisses. Every inch of her pressed against him, her body trembling with something more than just fear or gratitude—this was desire, unbidden and undeniable.

But just as the kiss reached its peak, Lucan felt the weight of reality crush down on him. He pulled back, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, the intensity of the moment too much, too dangerous. His hands lingered on her waist, not quite willing to let her go, but his expression was torn, conflicted.

"Alys..." he whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with the unspoken regret of what they had just done. He gently pushed her back, though his fingers still brushed her waist as if to hold onto the connection just a little longer, before the world intruded once more.

"We can't," he said, his voice hoarse. "You... you're promised to the king. I shouldn't have—"

Alys stared at him, her breath coming in shallow bursts, her heart still racing from the kiss. She opened her mouth to protest, but the reality of his words hit her like a cold wave. The firelight flickered between them, casting shadows on her face as she struggled to reconcile what had just happened with the truth of her situation.

Lucan's hand slipped away from her waist, and he forced himself to take a step back, putting distance between them before the temptation became too great. "We need to focus on getting you to King's Landing," he said quietly, though the words tasted bitter in his mouth. "That's all that matters right now."

Alys looked down, her fingers brushing against her lips where the warmth of his kiss still lingered. She nodded, but her heart was conflicted. Everything had changed in that moment, and no matter what Lucan said, she couldn't ignore the spark that had ignited between them.

The fire crackled on, but the space between them now felt like a chasm.

Crownlands / Kingswood / Night

The night pressed in around them, the fire's faint glow flickering in the darkness of the Kingswood. The trees seemed to close in, their gnarled branches whispering with the wind, the shadows deepening as the hours crept by. Lucan sat near the fire, his sword resting across his lap, eyes scanning the treeline for any signs of movement. The stillness of the night only made him more aware of the danger lurking beyond their small, fragile camp. Somewhere out there, the bandits were still hunting them. He had no illusions that they would be safe for long.

Behind him, Alys lay curled beneath his cloak, her breathing soft and steady as she slept. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed, the tension of the day momentarily gone. Lucan stole a glance at her, a pang of guilt tugging at his chest. That kiss... it had caught him off guard, ignited something deep inside him that he hadn't expected. But it had been a mistake.

She wasn't just a woman in danger—she was the betrothed of the King of the Six Kingdoms. And he... he was just a hedge knight, a wandering soul with no place, no purpose. What right did he have to even entertain the idea of something more between them? His life wasn't meant for someone like her. It was filled with uncertainty, danger, and loneliness.

Lucan's gaze drifted back to the fire, the flickering flames reflecting his inner turmoil. He had been on the road for so long—ever since the days of his youth, training as a squire under a hedge knight who never spoke of honor or duty like the knights of great houses did. The life of a hedge knight wasn't about glory; it was about survival. Lucan had learned to fend for himself, to make his way through a world that often didn't care whether he lived or died.

But now, something had shifted.

The kiss had awakened feelings in him that he had tried to bury for so long. Feelings of connection, of belonging, of wanting something more than the endless road and the next contract. He hadn't realized just how deeply lonely he was until Alys had looked at him like that—until she had touched him like he was more than just a man with a sword.

Lucan ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a slow breath. He was a fool for even thinking about her in that way. She belonged to another world, one of duty, power, and responsibility. Alys was meant to be queen, and he... he was meant to keep wandering, keep searching for something he couldn't even name.

The fire crackled, and Buck, tied nearby, shifted on his hooves, snorting softly as he grazed on the grass. The familiar presence of his horse brought Lucan some small comfort, though it didn't ease the heavy weight in his chest.

What was he doing?

Lucan tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, the cool steel grounding him. He had made a promise to protect Alys, to get her to King's Landing safely. That was his only focus now. His feelings—whatever they were—didn't matter. Alys needed him to be strong, to be the knight who could fend off the dangers lurking in the Kingswood, not a man tangled in his own emotions.

Yet, the thought of her being handed over to King Edric made something stir inside him—something like jealousy, though he hated to admit it. Edric was a good man, by all accounts, a strong leader, chosen by the Great Council to rule the Six Kingdoms. Alys would be safe with him, loved even, in a way that Lucan could never offer. And yet... the memory of her lips against his, the warmth of her body so close to his, lingered, pulling at the walls he had built around his heart.

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. There was no place for these feelings, not now, not ever. He couldn't afford to lose focus. The bandits were still out there, and by morning, they would surely be hunting them again.

Lucan stood quietly, sheathing his sword and pacing a few steps away from the fire. The night air was cool against his skin, the darkness oppressive, but he forced himself to remain alert. Alys stirred in her sleep behind him, murmuring something too soft for him to hear. He turned back, watching her for a moment, the rise and fall of her chest steady. She trusted him, relied on him, and that trust weighed heavily on his shoulders.

He couldn't let her down. He wouldn't.

Lucan turned his gaze back to the woods, listening to the sounds of the night—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of an owl, the soft sigh of the wind through the trees. But underneath it all, he could feel the tension, the unease. The bandits wouldn't stop until they found them, and when they did, Lucan knew he would have to fight.

For now, though, he kept his vigil, watching over Alys as she slept, his thoughts a tangled mess of duty, desire, and doubt.

Whatever the morning brought, he would face it. But the loneliness that had followed him for so long now had a sharper edge, a longing for something more than the endless road ahead.