I walked briskly toward the stables, my mind preoccupied with the day’s tasks. The familiar scent of hay and the steady clatter of hooves on cobblestone usually brought me a sense of calm, but today something else drew my attention.

As I neared the stables, I noticed a figure standing by Sebastian—my prized stallion. The horse had always been aloof, never warming up to anyone except me. But there she was, Elara, her delicate fingers threading through his dark mane, completely unaware of my presence.

I paused, watching the way Sebastian leaned into her touch. It was unusual—unprecedented, even. “Sebastian has never warmed up to anyone like that,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet.

She gasped, visibly startled, and quickly turned to face me. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in,” she said, her voice carrying a mixture of surprise and nervousness.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “It seems Sebastian has taken quite a liking to you,” I replied, stepping closer. There was something almost endearing about the way she interacted with the horse, as if they had known each other for years. It softened something in me I hadn’t realized was still there.

“He’s a magnificent horse,” she said, her voice full of genuine admiration. There was no fear in her eyes, only curiosity and a gentle warmth that seemed to draw both Sebastian and me in.

An idea formed in my mind before I had a chance to consider it. “How about we take him for a ride?” I offered, watching her closely for her reaction.

She blinked up at me, clearly surprised by the suggestion. “I… I’ve never ridden a horse before,” she admitted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“Never?” I echoed, genuinely surprised. A small smile played at the corner of my lips—an expression that felt almost foreign to me. “Then today is the perfect day to learn.”

She hesitated, glancing at Sebastian with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I’m not sure… What if I can’t handle it?”

I found myself stepping closer, drawn to her uncertainty. “You won’t have to worry about that,” I assured her. “We can ride together. Sebastian is strong enough to carry us both.”

Her reluctance was still evident, but she took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Alright… but only if you promise not to let me fall.”

“Never,” I murmured, my voice softer than I intended. 

I noticed her dress,  “That dress isn’t exactly suited for riding,” I said, eyeing the elegant yet impractical garment. “Perhaps you should change into something more suitable.”

But Elara shook her head, a small, determined smile playing on her lips. “It’s fine. I can manage.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused by her insistence. “If you’re certain,” I said, knowing full well how this was going to go.

Stepping closer, I offered my hands to her. “Allow me, then.”

She looked at me for a moment, hesitating, before placing her delicate hands in mine. With surprising ease, I lifted her into the air, intending to set her onto the horse. But as I did, the fabric of her dress became a nuisance. She fumbled with the skirt, trying to gather it up in her arms, but the way she did it was entirely unladylike. There was no grace in her movements—just a kind of endearing awkwardness. She tried to hold the hem of her dress while balancing on my hands, her face scrunched up in concentration. The sight of her fumbling with the dress, so intent on maintaining her modesty, was both unladylike and utterly adorable.

I couldn’t help but smile at the effort she was putting in. “You’re doing fine,” I reassured her, gently guiding her as she settled onto the saddle. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there was a charm in her determination.

Once she was seated, she let out a small sigh of relief, her cheeks slightly flushed from the effort. The dress still wasn’t cooperating entirely, but she seemed satisfied with her position.

“Is this alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“It’s more than alright,” I reassured her, mounting the horse behind her. As I settled in close, my arms naturally encircled her to take the reins, her warmth radiating through the fabric of her dress. The contrast between her soft, feminine presence and the powerful horse beneath us was striking.

I could feel her tense slightly as I drew nearer, the proximity clearly affecting her as much as it did me. “Hold on,” I murmured, my voice lower now, more intimate. She nodded, her hands gripping the front of the saddle, her posture still a bit awkward as she tried to adjust to the situation.

"Ready?" I asked, my voice a little huskier than intended.

She nodded.

As Sebastian moved forward, the dress fluttered in the breeze, the material brushing against my legs. Despite her initial hesitance, Elara seemed to settle into the rhythm of the ride, the unease slowly giving way to a tentative comfort.

Every subtle movement she made, every shift in the saddle, sent a jolt of awareness through me. My focus wavered, the usual control slipping as her presence overwhelmed my senses. I had never been so acutely aware of another person, the closeness of her body driving me to distraction. I tightened my grip on the reins, trying to maintain control—of the horse, of myself—but it was no use. My thoughts kept drifting to her, to the warmth of her body against mine.

I guided Sebastian through the castle grounds and out into the open fields, letting the familiar paths take us where they may. Soon, we reached a vast field of lavender, the vibrant purple stretching as far as the eye could see.

I brought Sebastian to a halt in the middle of the field, dismounting first before turning to help Elara down. She slid from the saddle with an elegance that caught me off guard, her body brushing against mine as she landed lightly on the ground.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, her eyes wide with wonder as she took in the sight before her. She leaned down to touch the lavender, her fingers grazing the blossoms as if she couldn’t quite believe they were real. “I’ve never seen anything like this…”

I watched her, my heart unexpectedly softened by the awe in her voice. “It is,” I agreed, though my gaze wasn’t on the field but on her. There was something about her—something fragile and strong all at once—that made me want to protect her. “It’s a special place.”

She smiled, the expression tinged with sadness as she looked out over the field. “I wonder if the place I come from is as beautiful as this,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

I felt a pang of sympathy at her words. It was easy to forget, in moments like these, that she had no memories of who she was or where she came from. I could see the sadness in her eyes, the frustration of not knowing. “I’m sure it was,” I said quietly, trying to offer some comfort. “But no matter where you’re from, you’re here now. This place can be beautiful for you too.”

She nodded, though the sadness didn’t leave her eyes. “It’s just… it’s a shame I can’t remember anything,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “No matter how hard I try, it’s all just… blank.”

Something in her voice, the rawness of her pain, made me want to reach out to her—to share something of myself in return. “When I was younger,” I began, surprised by the words leaving my mouth, “I often wished I could forget things. My father… he was a strict man, demanding in ways that were impossible to meet. Every day was a test, every moment an opportunity to fail in his eyes.”

She turned to look at me, her eyes full of empathy. “That sounds… difficult,” she said gently.

“It was,” I admitted, my voice low. The memories came flooding back—my father’s stern face, his harsh words, the endless pressure to be perfect. “He had this way of making me feel like nothing I did was ever good enough. I had to be strong, stoic… emotions were a weakness to him. It was a hard way to grow up, always trying to live up to someone else’s expectations.”

She hesitated, then reached out, placing her hand atop mine. The simple gesture was filled with understanding, and for a moment, I felt something inside me ease—just a little. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she said softly, her voice full of genuine compassion.

I looked down at our joined hands, feeling a strange sense of comfort in her touch. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice rough with emotion I wasn’t used to showing. “I don’t talk about it often… but I suppose everyone has their own struggles, don’t they?”

She nodded, her fingers gently squeezing mine. “They do,” she agreed. “And sometimes, sharing them makes it a little easier.”

I looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, I saw more than just the girl who had appeared in my life under mysterious circumstances. I saw someone who understood pain, who could offer comfort without judgment.

As we sat under the tree, surrounded by the beauty of the lavender field, I felt a connection between us that I hadn’t expected. It was something deeper than I had anticipated, something that went beyond her mysterious past or my own troubled upbringing.

The ride back to the castle was quiet, both of us lost in our thoughts. But the silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken bond that had formed between us. My grip on the reins was steady, but my mind was anything but. Elara’s presence had stirred something in me, something I wasn’t ready to face just yet. But as we approached the stables, I knew one thing for certain—this girl, with her mysterious past and gentle heart, had already begun to unravel the walls I had spent years building around myself.