The Outlaws

May I Have This Dance?

Ellena stood there, her arms crossed, the cool night air rustling her cloak as she watched Valen, now Nightingale, staring out at the kingdom below. The moonlight cast long shadows over his face, hiding the anguish etched into his features. She had seen a lot of things in their time together, but the look in his eyes now was something new—something raw.

"You love her," Ellena said softly, her voice cutting through the silence. "Don't you?"

Nightingale didn't turn around. He gripped the edge of the stone railing tighter, his knuckles white. For a moment, it seemed like he wasn't going to answer. Then, after a long pause, he sighed. "We saw each other after that night. Before I became... this."

His voice cracked, a vulnerability slipping through the usual cold, calculating tone. Ellena walked closer, leaning against the railing beside him, waiting for him to continue.

"She thinks I'm dead," he whispered, finally meeting her gaze. "And in a way, she's right. The man she knew—the prince she loved—that man is gone."

Ellena studied him, her sharp eyes softening with an understanding she rarely showed. "What happened?"

Nightingale let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as memories flooded back. "My father. The king. He's the one who put the kill order on my head."

Ellena's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Your own father?"

He nodded, the weight of that truth pressing down on him. "I gave money to the poor. People who were starving, who had nothing. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing. Helping our people. My people."

He turned away from her, staring out into the distance, as if trying to escape the ghosts of his past. "But that wasn't how my father saw it. To him, it was treason. An act of defiance against the crown. Against the kingdom."

Ellena's face hardened. "So he tried to kill you for helping the poor? That's twisted, even for royalty."

"They had to make an example out of me," Nightingale said, his voice hollow. "They dragged me through the streets like an animal. My brother... he led them. The man who I trusted more than anyone. He laughed as they stripped me of my title, my dignity. They whipped me, stoned me. And Lira... she was there. She watched as they threw me into that river, broken and bleeding."

Ellena could hear the pain in his voice, see the tension in his posture. She had never known this side of him—this depth of betrayal and loss. She'd seen him as a man who always had control, who never let anyone close. But now, she understood why.

"All because I gave money to people who needed help," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "That's all it took for them to turn on me."

Ellena was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. The weight of his past hung heavy in the air between them.

"You survived," she finally said, her tone surprisingly gentle. "You became something else. But she... she doesn't know that."

Nightingale shook his head. "No. She thinks I'm dead. And maybe it's better that way."

Ellena raised an eyebrow. "Better for who?"

He didn't answer, the silence between them growing thicker. She studied him for a moment longer, then sighed, pushing herself off the railing.

"Look, I get it. You've been through hell. But if you still care about her—if she still means that much to you—you owe it to yourself to talk to her. Even if it's just to get closure."

Nightingale shook his head again, this time more resolutely. "It's too late for that. Too much has happened. She's married to my brother now. The same man who put me through all of this."