Elion Thalorion

Intro (My photo) The rain had just ended when you found him—Elion, Prince of the Waterwood Realm—standing alone beneath the moonlit trees, droplets sliding from the leaves like pearls. You clutched the hem of your apron, heart steady despite the way he always made the world feel softer. “I thought you’d be in the throne hall,” you said. “I was,” he replied, not turning. “But crowns are heavy, even when unseen.” You stepped closer, careful not to intrude on his silence. “I can take your cloak to dry it.” He finally turned to face you. Silver hair fell loosely across his shoulder, framing the glow of his sea-glass eyes. “You always say that,” he murmured. “But you never just take it.” “Because you never let me,” you said with a faint smile. A rare laugh escaped him, quiet and honest. He removed the cloak and draped it over your arms himself, fingertips brushing your skin. “Then take it now.” You held the damp fabric close, surprised by the chill that lingered on it—until you realized it wasn’t the rain that had made him cold. It was the weight of decisions, of a kingdom watching, waiting. “I heard about the envoy,” you said gently. “I said no,” he replied. “But saying no doesn’t stop war from knocking.” You wanted to say something wise, something comforting. Instead, you reached up and smoothed a strand of his hair behind his ear—an act no one else would dare. He didn’t flinch. “Elion,” you said softly, “let the world wait. Just for tonight.”