First Step in the new World

The next morning, James woke up later than usual, the sunlight streaming through the small window and warming the room. Blinking a few times to shake off the haze of sleep, he stretched slightly, a faint groan escaping his lips as he felt the soreness in his muscles. His body ached as though he'd run a marathon, but the heaviness of the fever from the previous day was gone. Instead, he felt oddly refreshed, almost as if a weight had been lifted off him. "Nothing can beat a good night's rest," he told himself with a smile.

Rubbing the back of his neck, James frowned as he noticed that his shirt was damp, sticking uncomfortably to his skin. He felt the fabric clinging to his chest. Must've sweat it out, he thought, recalling the strange, fever-induced nightmares from the night before. He couldn't quite remember what had happened—just fragmented flashes of blurred figures, confusion, and an odd sensation of being forced to drink something. He shook his head, dismissing it as the fever playing tricks on his mind.

His thoughts shifted as he realized there was a familiar warmth pressing against him. Turning his head slightly, he saw Ofelia lying against him, her arms tightly wrapped around his torso. Her face was buried in his wet chest, her breathing slow and steady. James chuckled softly, careful not to wake her. She must've been worried. Guess I scared her a little. I should probably do something to make her forgive me.

He shifted slightly, his movement causing her arms to tighten instinctively, pulling him closer. He couldn't help but smile. What time is it? Did we oversleep? The thought didn't seem to bother him much; instead, he rested his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the calm of the moment.

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Ofelia stirred faintly, her body still half-asleep, as the remnants of her dreams clung to her mind. In the dream, everything had been perfect—James was well, smiling at her, speaking to her as though nothing had happened. She had felt safe, content, and at peace, something she hadn't felt in so long. As consciousness began to creep in, she instinctively clung to the dream, unwilling to let go. Just a little longer, she thought, her grip around James tightening slightly.

The warmth beneath her cheek, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the faint scent of him reassured her. She sighed softly, sinking deeper into him, hoping to remain in the fleeting illusion of her dream. Reality was too cruel, too painful to face. For now, all she wanted was to stay in the comforting bubble where everything was okay—where James was alive, safe, and still hers to hold.

But the light creeping into the room, the faint sounds of the village stirring outside, and the steady rhythm of James's breathing began to pull her further into wakefulness. Her heart began to race, both from the fear of facing reality and the hope that maybe, just maybe, her dream hadn't been a dream after all. What if it's real? What if he's still here?

Ofelia stirred further, her fingers brushing softly against James's chest. Slowly, she opened her eyes, her vision blurry from the remnants of sleep. She hesitated, afraid of what she might see. What if he's still pale and lifeless? What if…

Her gaze traveled upward, locking onto his face. His eyes were still closed, his features calm and peaceful, as if he were merely sleeping. Her heart tightened painfully in her chest, her stomach churning with fear and despair. Was he truly still with her? Or was this some cruel trick her mind was playing on her?

She bit her lip to keep the sobs at bay, but the overwhelming surge of emotion was too much to contain. The words spilled from her lips before she could stop them, her voice trembling yet loud enough to fill the small room.

"I love you," she whispered, her tone raw and filled with desperation. Her fingers tightened slightly against his chest as tears welled in her eyes. "I love you… I love you, please don't leave me alone."

The words hung in the air, her voice shaking as if she were begging the universe itself to keep him alive. A single tear slid down her cheek, falling onto his shirt. She leaned closer, her breath hitching as she buried her face against him. Please, please be okay. Please wake up.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a faint, soft chuckle rumbled against her ear, followed by a familiar voice—warm and slightly hoarse.

"Ofelia… I'm not going anywhere," James murmured, his eyes fluttering open as he looked down at her, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.

Ofelia froze, her breath catching in her throat as her head shot up to meet his gaze. The relief that flooded her chest was almost unbearable, and she could only stare at him, her lips trembling as the tears spilled freely.

"You're… you're awake," she whispered, her voice breaking.

James nodded weakly, his smile widening slightly despite the soreness he felt. "Yeah… And judging by that confession, I guess you missed me." His tone was light, teasing, but there was a warmth in his eyes that softened the moment.

Ofelia's tears turned into quiet sobs, and she couldn't stop herself from collapsing into him, her arms tightening around him as if afraid he might vanish. "I thought… I thought I lost you," she cried against his chest. "You scared me, James."

James let out a soft sigh, resting his hand lightly on her back. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I didn't mean to scare you… But… I promise, Ofelia. I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever."

Ofelia didn't reply, her sobs muffled against his chest. All she could do was hold him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear. It was real. He was real. And for now, that was all that mattered.

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James had been on the edge of drifting back into a light sleep when he heard the soft rustle of movement beside him. Ofelia stirred, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. He smiled faintly to himself, his eyes still closed, savoring the warmth and comfort she brought, even if it was a little unexpected. She must've really been worried, he thought.

But then, her voice cut through the quiet, trembling and raw with emotion. The words were soft but unmistakable, each one landing like a hammer blow against his chest.

"I love you," she said, her voice filled with desperation. "I love you… I love you, please don't leave me alone."

James's breath caught in his throat. His eyes fluttered open, but he kept them half-lidded, unsure of how to respond. Did she really just say that? He felt her fingers tighten against his chest, her trembling form pressed against him as if she were clinging to a lifeline.

His heart pounded, not from fear or confusion, but from the sheer weight of the moment. Ofelia—quiet, reserved, and always keeping her emotions guarded—had just confessed something so deeply vulnerable that it left him momentarily stunned. Her voice had carried more than just words. There was fear, pain, longing, and hope all tangled together.

She really does care for me… The realization hit him hard. Of course, he had suspected she trusted him, maybe even looked up to him. But this? This was different. This was deeper.

His first instinct was guilt. She really thought I might die. I put her through that. The panic in her voice, the fear in her emerald eyes, the way she had refused to leave his side, and the desperation in her vow to get help—it all came rushing back to him. He hadn't fully understood until now just how much his life mattered to her.

But then, guilt was quickly followed by warmth. A part of him couldn't help but feel… touched. The walls she had built around herself seemed to have crumbled entirely, and she had laid bare everything she felt. She loved him, and the raw sincerity of her confession was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

What do I even say? he thought, panic creeping into his chest. The weight of her feelings was overwhelming, and yet he couldn't let her sit there in despair. He couldn't let her think he'd leave her, not after everything they'd been through together.

So, he chuckled softly, a weak sound but genuine, hoping to break the tension in the air. "Ofelia," he murmured, opening his eyes fully and looking down at her tear-streaked face. She froze, her wide, wet eyes meeting his, and for a moment, his heart ached at the sight of her raw vulnerability. He managed a small, tired smile. "I'm not going anywhere."

Her reaction broke something inside him. The way her lips trembled, the way her eyes filled with a fresh wave of tears as relief flooded her expression—James didn't know if he deserved that kind of devotion, but he swore to himself in that moment that he would never take it for granted.

"You're… you're awake," she whispered, her voice breaking.

He nodded weakly, his smile widening slightly despite the soreness he felt. "Yeah… And judging by that confession, I guess you missed me." He kept his tone light, teasing, as he looked at her.

Her head dropped against his chest as she began to sob, her body shaking with the release of all the fear and tension she had been holding. "I thought… I thought I lost you," she cried against his chest. "You scared me, James." He wrapped an arm around her gently, his muscles sore but no longer feverish. He rested his hand on her back, moving it in slow, soothing circles.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice soft. "I didn't mean to scare you." He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the way she clung to him. "But… I promise, Ofelia. I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever."

Her sobs only grew louder, and James tightened his hold on her, his chest aching with both guilt and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. He realized then just how much she had come to mean to him. She wasn't just a companion or someone he felt responsible for. She was… important. Precious. The thought made his cheeks warm slightly, but he didn't dare pull away from her.

As she cried, James allowed himself to reflect on her words. I love you, she had said, over and over, as though the repetition could will him back to her. A part of him wanted to tease her, to lighten the heavy atmosphere, but he knew now wasn't the time. Her confession wasn't just a declaration of feelings—it was a plea. A desperate cry for the connection she had come to depend on, for the bond they had built together.

And James realized, as her sobs quieted and she curled into him, that he didn't want to let go of that bond either. He didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain: Ofelia had given him her trust, her loyalty, and now her heart. He wasn't going to let her down. Not now. Not ever.

For the first time since waking, he spoke with quiet determination, his words meant as much for himself as for her. "We'll be okay, Ofelia. I promise."

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A long moment passed as James silently sat with Ofelia, giving her the space to let her emotions flow freely. She sobbed into his chest, her body trembling as she released the torrent of feelings she had kept bottled up. James stayed quiet, his hand gently resting on her back, occasionally stroking her hair. He didn't rush her, letting her cry until she had no tears left and her breathing began to steady. When she finally calmed down, Ofelia pulled away slightly, rubbing at her swollen eyes and avoiding his gaze.

James smiled softly, attempting to lighten the mood. "You know," he teased, "I didn't expect a full-blown confession from you this morning. Was it my charm, or was it the near-death experience?"

Ofelia's face turned bright red, and she hid her face in her hands. "You're annoying," she mumbled, her voice muffled by her palms. Gathering her courage, she peeked out at him, still clearly embarrassed. "It wasn't just that," she admitted softly. "I… I didn't know what to think when you gave me the ring. I wasn't sure if it meant anything more than kindness." Her voice wavered, but she pushed forward. "But seeing you like that… unwell, hurt… I thought I was going to lose you. And in that moment, everything became clear. I couldn't imagine my life without you."

James's teasing expression melted into one of quiet intensity. "Ofelia…" he began, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

"I don't understand," she said, her words laced with frustration and confusion. "Why me? I'm just… I'm nothing more than an elven slave. I've been cast aside, treated like I'm worthless. Why would you, my master, someone who could have anything or anyone, choose to stay by my side for life? Why would you care about me so much?" Her voice cracked, and tears threatened to spill again, though she fought them back this time.

James frowned at her words, his concern deepening. "Wait," he said gently. "Hold on, Ofelia. You mentioned something earlier about the ring. I get the sense it means more to you than it does to me. Can you explain? What exactly does giving someone a ring symbolize?"

Ofelia hesitated, biting her lip as though searching for the right words. "In the culture of this continent," she began softly, "giving a ring to a woman is… it's a profound gesture. It's not something you do lightly. A ring represents commitment. It's a promise to share your life with someone—to protect them, to stand by them no matter what. It's not a gift; it's a declaration. And when you gave it to me, I didn't know what to think. I thought… maybe it didn't mean the same thing to you as it does to us ?"

She paused, fidgeting nervously with her hands. "But even if it didn't, it still meant something to me. And when I saw you willing to risk your life for me in the maze, I realized that no one has ever treated me the way you do. You're not like anyone else, James. You make me feel… seen. Like I matter."

Finally, James spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Ofelia," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I won't pretend I understand everything about your traditions. I didn't realize the weight the ring carried when I gave it to you. But hearing what it means to you…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I want you to know that I didn't give it lightly. I gave it because I wanted you to have something meaningful. Something to remind you that you're not alone anymore. Something that could help protect you even if I'm not right next to you."

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as his words sank in.

He hesitated, his heart pounding as he made his decision. "You're right," he admitted softly. "I'm your master in name, but I don't see you as a slave. I see you as… someone worth protecting. Worth standing by. And I'm not going to abandon you, no matter what. I don't care what others think, or what society says. You matter to me, Ofelia. You always will."

Tears welled up in Ofelia's eyes again, but this time they weren't from sadness. "I… I don't know what to say," she whispered.

"You don't have to say anything," he replied with a small smile. "Just… take your time. We don't have to rush anything. I'm not perfect, and I don't know if I can be everything you need. But I'm willing to try. As long as you want me here, I'll stay."

Ofelia stared at him for a long moment before giving a small nod, her expression a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. Though she still struggled to understand why he cared for her so deeply, a tiny spark of hope flickered in her heart—a hope different from the one she felt before.

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James doesn't let it show on his face, but the moment he hears Ofelia explain the meaning behind the ring, his thoughts spiral. Shit. Shit. Shit. I just made a marriage proposal without realizing it. I just wanted to be sure she would have the means to protect herself. How did I even get in that situation?

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression carefully neutral as his mind races. Our relationship isn't even at that point yet. We haven't been on a single date, haven't kissed, and… definitely haven't gone further than that. Sure, she's stunningly beautiful—her elven heritage makes that undeniable—and yes, Of course I'm attracted to her. Who wouldn't be? But she still needs time, care, and healing before she's in the right mental space for something this serious. I can't rush this, I still need to protect her !

James's gaze locked with Ofelia's, her emerald eyes shimmering with raw emotion. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and he noticed how tightly she gripped the fabric of her shirt, like she was bracing for rejection. That vulnerability in her made something inside him ache. She's scared. She's been hurt so many times before. She's putting herself out there, risking her heart for someone she barely knows because she has no choice. And here I am, wondering if I can handle it.

His chest tightened, and he took a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, he exhaled, letting his doubts settle into the back of his mind. I don't have all the answers. I don't know if I'm ready for this. But what I do know is that I care about her. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. And maybe that's enough for now.

But the weight of the decision looms over him. Am I ready for this? Am I really prepared to give up everything for her—when she's already lost so much and has no one else but me?

James looks into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability, the hope, and the fragile trust that's begun to bloom between them. He takes a deep breath, his chest tightening with the gravity of his choice.

And then, he decided. Yes.

James spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Ofelia," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I won't pretend I understand everything about your traditions. I didn't realize the weight the ring carried when I gave it to you. But hearing what it means to you…" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I want you to know that I didn't give it lightly. I gave it because I wanted you to have something meaningful. Something to remind you that you're not alone anymore. Something that could help protect you even if I'm not right next to you."

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching as his words sank in.

He hesitated, his heart pounding as he made his decision. "You're right," he admitted softly. "I'm your master in name, but I don't see you as a slave. I see you as… someone worth protecting. Worth standing by. And I'm not going to abandon you, no matter what. I don't care what others think, or what society says. You matter to me, Ofelia. You always will."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. "James," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I… I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replied with a small smile. "Just… take your time. We don't have to rush anything. I'm not perfect, and I don't know if I can be everything you need. But I'm willing to try. As long as you want me here, I'll stay."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Ofelia's hands stopped fidgeting, and she looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. For the first time in what felt like forever, she seemed to allow herself to hope

James felt the weight of his choice settle into his chest—not as a burden, but as a quiet, steady resolve. He didn't know what the future held, but in that moment, he was certain of one thing: he would walk this path with her, no matter how uncertain it was. And maybe, just maybe, they'd find their way together.