Love and Deepwater • A Rafayel story

Tides of longing

The next day dawned, casting a soft glow through the small window of Enoria's chamber.

She woke up, as always, went to the bathroom, washed herself, dressed in a beautiful gown, and sat in her bed, waiting for Rafayel to be brought to her.

Enoria took one of her weathered books from the wooden shelf, its pages yellowed with time. Sunlight danced across the letters as she settled into her worn bed.

The sea murmured outside, a constant companion.

The story of Elena Marna unfolded before her—a tale of love and sacrifice, woven into the fabric of another time. Elena, a woman of strength and grace, worked on her fields, her hands calloused from tilling the earth. Her children—bright-eyed and hungry, clung to her skirts, their laughter giving her life to continue moving forward.

But it was the arrival of the king that changed everything. He rode into their humble town, his cloak concealing his identity. His eyes, deep as the ocean, met Elena's, and in that moment, destiny shifted.

He was no ordinary king; he was a man who longed for freedom, for a love unburdened by titles and crowns.

Elena's heart fluttered as she tended to him—his wounds, his weariness. She saw beyond the royal facade, the weight of his responsibilities, the loneliness that haunted his eyes. And he, in turn, saw her, the fire in her gaze, the fierce love she held for her children.

Their stolen moments were like stolen pearls, precious and fleeting. Beneath moonlit skies, they whispered secrets—the taste of salt on their lips, the promise of eternity in their hearts. Elena's laughter echoed in the palace gardens, and the king, no longer a king, but a man, fell irrevocably in love.

But love was a tempest, and duty was an anchor. Elena knew her place, the mother, the caretaker of her children. And the king, his kingdom awaited, his subjects depended on him. Their love was forbidden, a secret woven into the fabric of their souls.

As Enoria read, she wondered about Elena's choice.

Would she forsake her children for love?

Would the king relinquish his throne for her?

The pages blurred, and tears welled in her eyes. Enoria closed the book, its cover worn and creased. She wondered if love could transcend time, if Elena's sacrifice had been worth it.

And as the clouds made sunlight flicker, casting shadows on the walls, Enoria vowed to remember Elena's story, the beautiful mother who dared to love a king, the woman who defied fate for a chance at eternity.

It was then, when Rafayel was brought to her room. They had breakfast, like always, bickered and joked around, sitting on the princess bed, closer than always. They remembered their night together, dancing endlessly on the Midnight Summer festivities, how they were glad that nobody recognized them.

She explained that the servants had not seen Rafayel flee last night and how glad she was of that. She also said that her heart suffered some palpitations now, since they were so much in love and how she thought that it was caused by Rafayel, being as handsome as he was, made a mess of her heart.

Her hand found his, their fingers entwining. 'Rafayel,' she whispered, 'My heart—it suffers palpitations now. I think it's caused by you.'

He chuckle.

'I am no doctor, but I suspect it's love, not illness.'

Enoria leaned closer, her lips brushing his cheek. Talking about doctors reminded her of something her maid had said before meeting him.