Aisle... Be Free (COMPLETED)

Chapter 8: Remiel's Thought

Remiel's Point of View

The grand halls of the Valerion estate were alive with laughter and music, yet I felt a sense of unease as I stood off to the side, observing the festivities from a distance. The Emperor had pressured me to attend at least one banquet this season, and I had reluctantly acquiesced, hoping to slip in and out without drawing attention. The moment I heard the rumors about Lady Elowen, however, I knew I wouldn't be able to do so.

Word had spread quickly about the disaster at her wedding—how she had been left at the altar by her fiancé and best friend. It was a spectacle no one could ignore, and while I usually dismissed gossip, the tale of the abandoned bride struck a chord within me. I felt an odd sense of pity for her, a sentiment I couldn't shake as I sipped my drink.

I was surprised that the Valerions would host a banquet so soon after such an incident. It felt brazen, almost cruel, as if they sought to distract from the whispers that had surely followed Lady Elowen. Yet, as I stood there, watching the crowd swirl in their elegant gowns and tailored coats, I decided to stay. The attention would be on her, not me.

Then, to my astonishment, there she was—Lady Elowen—gracing the hall with a confidence I hadn't expected. Dressed in a gown that clung to her figure perfectly, she looked every bit the picture of poise, as if the disaster hadn't touched her at all. I had heard she was meek, a wallflower among society's blooms, but what I saw was a woman who owned her space with strength and grace.

As she greeted guests, her expressions ranged from playful to thoughtful, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the way she interacted. She had a knack for making light of even the most absurd comments, and a laugh that seemed to echo joyously against the walls. I found myself captivated, unable to take my eyes off her as she moved through the crowd.

When I spotted Rowan, her former fiancé, approaching her, a sudden surge of curiosity drew me closer. The attention was theirs, and I felt a strange urge to step forward, to bridge the distance that seemed to exist not just between us, but between her past and the present.

As they conversed, I observed the subtle shift in her demeanor. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes that sparked with humor, and it struck me how lighthearted she appeared despite the storm that had recently engulfed her life. I had been through my own battles—wars that haunted me in the quiet moments—but here she was, turning her misfortune into something almost laughable.

Finally, I decided to approach her. "Lady Elowen," I said, my voice smooth despite the rush of emotions. "May I have this dance?"

Her eyes widened momentarily in surprise, but then she smiled, that beautiful, infectious smile that made the air around us feel lighter. As we twirled on the dance floor, I found myself sinking deeper into conversation, unearthing layers of her personality that I hadn't anticipated.

"You have a rather morbid sense of humor for a lady left at the altar," I teased, watching her face light up with mischief.

"Perhaps I simply prefer to laugh in the face of tragedy," she replied, a sparkle in her eyes. The banter flowed easily, a refreshing contrast to the stilted conversations I often endured. With every word, I felt the walls I had built around myself begin to crumble, replaced by a comfort I hadn't experienced in years.