Lara's smile bloomed, soft and unguarded, like a bud blossoming into a flower.
Prince Alaric flushed, his brows knitting in mild confusion. "What?" he asked, flustered. "Why are you smiling like that? Did I say something ridiculous?"
"You just claimed you're not a prince from a fairy tale," Lara said, tilting her head with a mischievous glint in her eye. "So what does that make you then?"
He straightened, a trace of pride returning to his voice. "A prince of Northem. A real prince," he replied, solemn and sincere.
From within the folds of his cloak, Alaric drew out a small wooden box, the surface smooth and exquisitely carved, its edges trimmed in delicate gold leaf. He held it to her with both hands, as if offering something sacred.
Curious, Lara accepted it, fingertips brushing his as she opened the lid. Nestled inside was a silver bracelet—its design intricate and familiar, echoing the motif of the necklace already gracing her collarbone.
