Under the Oak Tree - Riftan's POV - Multiverse

Chapter 38 - Don't Forget Me

The following days blurred together like a fevered dream. Riftan woke each morning with a single thought blazing in his mind: her. The moment he saw Maximillian slip quietly into the gardens, her red curls catching the light of dawn, he felt the storm inside him surge.

They walked hidden paths together, beneath heavy branches and ivy walls, places where no one would see them. Their talks always began innocently—her lessons in magic, his tales of travel—but without fail, every walk ended the same: with her in his arms, their lips tangled in a kiss he both craved and dreaded.

Riftan never tired of touching her hair, threading his fingers through the fiery curls that spilled like silk through his rough hands. Sometimes he would tug one gently just to see her startled little pout, which made him want to devour her mouth all over again. She was soft everywhere—her hands, her lips, her voice—and each brush of her against him was enough to set his blood ablaze.

And every night, that fire had nowhere to go. He would toss in his bed, haunted by the memory of her taste, the weight of her slight body pressed to his chest. More than once, shame burned his face as he succumbed to the hunger himself, his fists clenched in the sheets, his teeth grit as her name tore from his throat. Only then finding his release would the pressure in his body relent enough to let him sleep. By dawn, the ache began anew. Riftan was not entirely ignorant of the pleasure of the world, yet before this month he had never found himself longing for release as he did now. These past days had been sheer torment, and if he had anything more to offer her, he would have married Maximillian that very night.

Yet he held himself back when she was near. She was a lady of noble birth, untouchable, and he would rather carve out his hearth than soil her name with his desire. So he kissed her until he could no longer breathe, then forced himself away with shaking hands, swallowing his own torment.

Two days before his departure, Riftan forced himself to face another demon. His stepfather had invited him for supper at the old cabin where Riftan had been raised—a place he had sworn never to enter again. The memories of his mother's lifeless body still lingered in every shadow of that house. So, he arrived early, his voice hard as he spoke to the man at the door.

"I would... share a meal. But... Outside."

His stepfather studied him a long moment before nodding solemnly. "We'll wait for you in the field."

That afternoon, Riftan sat at a rough wooden table in the open air, a simple meal spread before them. The taste of bread and stew was bland on his tongue, but the absence of the cabin walls was a relief. His stepbrother sat wide-eyed, brimming with questions about knights, battles, and swords. Riftan answered sparingly, though he found himself softening at the boy's eager grin.

When he rose to leave, he gave his stepfather a brief nod. "Be ready. By the beginning of Paxias, we travel to Anatol."

His words hung heavy, final, before he turned away.

The last banquet before his departure was a torment unlike any battlefield. The hall glittered with candles and music, laughter echoing off the stone walls, yet Riftan felt as though he stood on the edge of a cliff, one step away from ruin.

Maximillian was there, seated beside her father, the princess no place to be found. Her red curls bound up but still catching the light like fire. She smiled politely when spoken to, though Riftan, watching from across the room, could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the faint tremor in her hands. He wanted nothing more than to cross the hall, sweep her into his arms, and tell every nobleman present that she belonged to him.

Instead, he forced himself into silence.

Kuehl, ever gallant, took his chance. Riftan's blood boiled as he watched the Temple knight lean toward Maximillian, speaking softly enough that she tilted her head to hear. Worse yet, when she rose to leave for the evening, Kuehl caught her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

Her cheeks flushed, and Riftan's chest nearly split apart. He saw the Duke's eyes narrow at the exchange, suspicion flickering across the older man's face. Riftan clenched his fists at his sides, fighting not to draw his sword right there at the banquet table.

Before he could take a step toward her, a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Commander Triden's voice was low, carrying only for Riftan's ears.

"If you believe no one has noticed, you're a fool," the commander muttered, his gaze sharp as steel. "You've been staring at her all night as though she were the only soul in the room."

Riftan's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving Maximillian's retreating figure.

Triden's tone hardened. "I don't care what madness has taken hold of you. Do not dare go near her tonight. One wrong step and both our heads will roll before the Duke's fury."

Riftan swallowed back the surge of anger, every muscle in his body screaming to defy the order. But the commander's hand pressed harder on his shoulder, and Riftan knew he had no choice. He stayed rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as Maximillian disappeared beyond the banquet hall doors—her hand still faintly tinged with the kiss of another man.

It was the longest night of his life.

The next morning, the weight of farewell pressed against his chest like armor. He knew his path well—first to Drakium, then to Anatol, securing the estate the king had granted him. By his own calculations, it would be at least two fortnight before he could return to Croix again. Two whole seasons before he considered he could talk to the duke. Two whole seasons without seeing her daily, without touching her hair, without the secret smile she gave only to him. The ache in his chest was unbearable.

When Maximillian ran to him beneath their tree, her curls streaming like fire in the wind, Riftan felt his restraint crumble. He caught her up in his arms and kissed her as though his very soul depended on it. The kiss deepened, his hunger too great to contain. With a low groan he lifted her effortlessly, her small body pressed against him as her legs wrapped around his waist. The world disappeared—there was only her lips parting beneath his, her breath mixing with his own, the sweet sound of her soft moan echoing in his ears.

His hands gripped her tighter, one tangled in her hair, the other anchoring her hip as he pressed her back against the tree. Every instinct screamed to go further, to take her there and then, consequences be damned. He wanted her more than breath, more than life itself.

But some last shred of discipline clung to him. With sheer, brutal willpower, Riftan forced himself to break the kiss, his body trembling with the effort. He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice hoarse.

"We leave tomorrow morning. I'll be gone for a month." His throat tightened, the words burning. "Please... don't forget me."

Maximillian shook her head fiercely, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I w-would never forget you. I will w-wait for you... always."

Her promise shattered what little defense he had left. Riftan crushed her to him, holding her as though the strength of his arms could defy time itself. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in, memorizing everything—her scent, her warmth, the steady beat of her heart against his chest.

And under that tree, in their last embrace before fate tore them apart, Riftan silently swore: no distance, no battle, no man would keep him from returning to her.

Writer Note: 

Thank you again for your patient! In the bright side I did write during the time I was gone, so the chapter will be update more often that once a week! 

I hope you can fish the story with me!