TAVIAN CONFIDES IN ELYRA
The Uneasy Truth, the Quiet Walk, the Kiss That Grounds Them Both
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The evening had settled into a warm, dusky gold.
Elyra sat on the stone steps outside the estate, her moonlight-blue skirts pooled around her, twirling a loose curl of hair around her finger while she waited.
She saw Tavian approaching before he noticed her — shoulders tight, brow knotted, lips pressed into a line he only wore when something was wrong.
Her heart dipped.
Elyra (softly):
“Tavian?”
He jumped slightly — pulled from whatever storm was in his head.
Tavian:
“Elyra. Hey. Um… can we walk?”
She nodded at once.
He offered his hand.
She took it.
Her fingers fit into his like they had always belonged there.
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? THE WALK
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They drifted along the path ringing the Aurelthane estate, the trees whispering softly overhead. Elyra waited — she knew his silence well by now. He spoke only when he’d fully untangled whatever thought was strangling him.
Finally, he inhaled sharply.
Tavian:
“Something happened today.”
Elyra stopped.
Turned.
Brows softening with concern.
Elyra:
“Are you hurt? Is your family okay—”
Tavian shook his head quickly.
Tavian:
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just—”
(he rubbed the back of his neck)
“Okay. You remember that strange feeling you said the forest sometimes gives you? When the lattice is… paying attention?”
She nodded slowly.
Elyra:
“Yes…”
Tavian swallowed.
Tavian:
“I think I… felt something like that. But not from the forest. From a person.”
Elyra blinked.
Elyra:
“A… person?”
Tavian:
“Yeah. This girl I saw in the square. She looked normal—just someone browsing the market. But then I caught a glimpse of her reflection in a kettle and—”
He shivered.
Tavian:
“It wasn’t her. Not properly. It was like the reflection didn’t match the way she moved. Not wrong, just… delayed.”
Elyra’s stomach tightened.
Her breath caught.
Elyra:
“…Delayed reflections. That’s—Tavian, that’s a sign of—”
Tavian:
“Something bad. Yeah. I know.”
He paced a step away, hands trembling slightly as he raked them through his hair.
Tavian:
“I tried talking to her. And she smiled. And she sounded normal. But—”
(his voice dropped)
“My whole chest felt cold. Like something inside me knew she wasn’t what she looked like.”
Elyra moved closer, touching his arm.
Elyra:
“You did nothing wrong. If anything, you were brave to talk to someone like that.”
Tavian let out a shaky laugh.
Tavian:
“Brave? Elyra, my legs were practically jelly. I kept thinking: what if she was one of the things that hurt you in the forest? What if she—”
(he cut himself off, swallowing hard)
“—I hate the idea of anything like that getting anywhere near you.”
Elyra’s heart swelled painfully.
She cupped his face in both hands, lifting his gaze to hers.
Elyra:
“I’m not that girl lying helpless in a forest anymore. And even then—”
Her thumbs brushed his cheeks.
“—you were there. You protected me when I couldn’t protect myself.”
Tavian shook his head, voice cracking.
Tavian:
“I didn’t do enough.”
Elyra:
“You did everything.”
Her voice was steady. Firm. True.
He closed his eyes, leaning into her hands.
It was instinct — like he’d been waiting for that touch since the moment he met her.
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? THE CONFESSION
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Tavian:
“I told myself I wouldn’t say anything because everything’s finally calm, and you’re safe, and your mum just had the baby, and the world stopped trying to kill you every five minutes—”
Elyra’s eyebrow rose.
Elyra:
“Tavian.”
He exhaled sharply.
Tavian:
“I’m scared. Not of her. Not of what I saw.”
(he looked directly at her)
“I’m scared of losing you. Even for a second.”
Elyra’s heart melted.
Completely.
She pressed her forehead to his.
Elyra (whispering):
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“You’re not going to lose me.”
Tavian:
“You promise?”
Elyra smiled — soft and sure.
Elyra:
“I promise.”
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? THE KISS
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He kissed her then — not like their last kiss, not nervous or experimental or accidental.
This one was slow.
Intentional.
Grounding.
Her hands slid into his hair.
His arms wrapped around her waist.
The world went blissfully, warmly quiet.
When they parted, breathless, Tavian rested his forehead against hers again.
Tavian (quietly):
“Should we tell your parents? About what I saw?”
Elyra considered it.
Elyra:
“Yes. But first…”
(she laced her fingers with his)
“…you’re staying right here with me. For at least five more minutes.”
He laughed softly — relief breaking across his features.
Tavian:
“As long as you want.”
THE LOCKETS, THE CONFESSION, THE PROMISE
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The balcony breeze was warm, carrying the soft hum of Thornmere’s lanterns flickering to life. Elyra and Tavian stood close — not touching, but close enough that the air between them felt charged, fragile, alive.
She had just finished recounting the strange encounter in town.
He had just finished promising he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
And then…
Tavian cleared his throat, cheeks pink, fingers nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.
Tavian:
“So… um… speaking of promises. There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”
Elyra tilted her head, brow lifting.
Elyra:
“Tavian?”
Tavian (blurted):
“You called me your boyfriend.”
Elyra froze.
The word hung there — glowing, fragile, beautiful.
He swallowed, eyes wide.
Tavian:
“Did you… mean that? I’m not upset I just— I mean— was that— do you actually—?”
Elyra didn’t hesitate.
Not for a heartbeat.
Elyra (steady, convincting, warm):
“Yes, Tavian. I meant it.”
The way she said it…
Not a shy admission.
Not a flustered flinch.
It was certainty.
It was her.
Her maturity, her honesty, her courage crystalized into a single word.
Tavian’s breath punched out of him in a shaky, surprised laugh — and he smiled. A boyish, stunned, heart-melting smile that looked like someone had just handed him the sun.
Elyra couldn’t help but smile back.
Elyra (teasing, lifting a brow):
“Why? You don’t like the word? Or you don’t want a girlfriend?”
Her tone was playful.
Her eyes were utterly serious.
Tavian opened his mouth — and the universe betrayed him.
Tavian:
“What? No! Elyra, I want— I mean I’ve wanted— stars, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever, and I’m still trying to figure out how to breathe around you and you make everything feel like—”
His hands flew up to his face.
Tavian:
“—I didn’t mean to say all of that.”
He went pale.
Elyra went bright red.
And then she spun — quickly — turning away from him, toward the balcony rail, toward Thornmere below.
Her heart had survived death twice.
Monsters.
Paralysis.
Trauma.
Mirrors.
But this?
This genuine, unfiltered outpouring of emotion from him?
It undid her.
Tavian stumbled after his own words, mortified.
Tavian:
“Elyra—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable or— oh gods I messed this up—”
Elyra (soft, urgent, reaching without turning):
“Tavian. Don’t.”
She gripped her braid with trembling fingers, grounding herself.
Elyra:
“Please don’t ever apologise for being yourself. Not to me.”
Silence.
Warm, glowing, fragile silence.
Then Elyra turned — slowly — hands cupped around something small, held like a secret. Her face was flushed, her silver-green-gold eyes bright with tenderness.
Tavian blinked, breath catching.
Tavian:
“What’s… that?”
Elyra inhaled deeply.
Bracing herself.
Opening something old and sacred.
Elyra:
“Tavian… when I was very young, before Grayhollow fell, my mother—my real mother—gave me this.”
She unfolded her hands.
A small heart-shaped locket, polished from years of being held close.
Elyra:
“I’ve worn it every day since. Inside is a note she wrote me when I was a baby. It’s all I had left of her.”
Tavian had to sit down.
Not because of the story —
but because she was holding it out to him.
Elyra stepped closer, nervous and brave all at once.
She clicked the heart open.
It split cleanly into two pendants, each half of the heart perfectly mirrored in shape.
Elyra took his hands gently and placed one half in his palms.
Inside his half was a folded note — handwritten only hours ago — and on the other side…
A freshly cut lock of her black-and-white braid, carefully braided together.
Tavian’s breath stuttered.
Elyra’s voice trembled, but her certainty did not.
Elyra:
“Tavian… a piece of my mother has always stayed with me because she gave me this locket.”
She opened her own half — inside was the original note from her mother… and slipped inside the other curve, the tiny parchment Tavian had written when he gifted her the bracelet:
“I will always be there for you.”
She lifted her eyes to his — shimmering, luminous, bare.
Elyra:
“I want you to have this because… no matter where I go, or what happens, you have a place in my life now. A part of it. A part of me.”
She swallowed.
Elyra (whisper-soft, terrified, brave):
“Tavian… do you accept this?”
He stared at the locket in his shaking hands.
Then at her.
Then back at the locket.
Slowly, reverently, Tavian cupped it like it was the most precious treasure in existence — because to him, it was.
He looked up at her again — eyes glassy, breath unsteady, heart full to bursting — and nodded once, silently, powerfully.
Tavian (voice breaking, whispering):
“Yes. Elyra… yes. I accept.”
And the world shifted.
Beautifully.
Irreversibly.
THE BREATH, THE TWINS, AND THE BOY WHO STOPPED THINKING
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Elyra snapped her half of the heart closed.
Click.
And then—
She turned.
Back to the balcony.
Back to the view of Thornmere.
Back to the only thing keeping her from combusting on the spot.
She sucked in a massive breath—
Not a normal inhale.
Not a startled gasp.
A full-body, rib-creaking, soul-preparing “oh gods oh gods oh gods I actually did that” inhale that could have fueled her through a marathon in one go.
Her hair lifted slightly with the force.
Her shoulders rose.
Her entire spine straightened.
Then—
She released the breath in one long, shaking exhale… and finally opened her eyes.
And immediately wished she hadn’t.
Across the street, perched on the tiled roof of a bakery like two demonic gargoyles, were—
Vex and Laz.
Both wearing enormous shit-eating grins.
Both silently reenacting her giving away the locket.
Both dramatically swooning into each other’s arms like drunk actors in a tragic romance.
And then—
because of course they would—
they started mock kissing, complete with exaggerated head tilts and over-the-top hand motions.
Elyra blinked.
Elyra (mouths):
“Oh for the love of—"
Her hand shot instinctively to her waist where her throwing blades should have been—
Nothing.
Dress.
No belt.
No blades.
She glared.
On the rooftop, Vex dangled one of her own blades teasingly between two fingers.
Elyra mouthed:
“I will END you.”
Laz pointed behind her.
Elyra froze.
She turned—
And Tavian was standing there.
Still.
Quiet.
Wobbly.
The boy looked like someone had unplugged him mid-thought.
Eyes glassy.
Mouth slightly open.
Ears redder than forge metal.
Absolutely, utterly, beautifully wrecked by everything she had just given him.
He looked exactly like the nineteen-year-old he was:
A nice boy who meant well, felt deeply, and just received more emotional intimacy in ten minutes than he had in his entire life combined.
Slowly—gingerly—Tavian lifted the chain of the locket.
His fingers trembled as he fastened it around his own neck.
He didn’t take his eyes off her.
Not once.
Then—
Very careful.
Very gentle.
Very much like he was approaching a wild animal he adored—
He stepped toward her.
One step.
Another.
Reaching out—
Tentative.
Barely breathing.
As if asking permission with the motion alone.
Behind Elyra, on the rooftop—
Vex (whispering far too loudly):
“IF HE DOESN’T KISS HER AGAIN I SWEAR TO THE HELLS—”
Laz slapped a hand over Vex’s mouth.
Elyra didn’t look back.
She didn’t need to.
She was too busy staring at Tavian.
The boy who had finally restarted his brain.
The boy who now wore her locket, her braid, her trust.
The boy who, with one trembling hand, reached toward hers—
And waited.
Silent.
Hopeful.
Absolutely undone.
Her boyfriend.
