Mei-Ling emerged from her quarters, stretching her arms skyward until her joints gave a satisfying crack. After confined to a bed, her body ached for motion, and her eyes drank in the unfamiliar beauty around her.
The outpost was alive with quiet purpose. Sunlight caught the polished curve of elven wooden beams, carved so finely the grain seemed to shimmer like silk. The natural and the crafted melded seamlessly—roots embracing walls, vines curling over archways, as if the forest itself had blessed the place.
Mei-Ling's gaze wandered—taking in the sentinels stationed high on the ramparts, their bows gleaming. Nearby, weaponsmiths hammered blades against anvils, their rhythmic strikes ringing like a battle hymn. The air smelled of oiled leather, metal, and faint traces of blooming wildflowers.
In the courtyard's heart, a group of elven warriors flowed through combat drills—every strike, every pivot a display of precision that looked less like violence and more like art. Their forms, lean and graceful, moved with a deadly beauty Mei-Ling could only admire.
A soft snort of laughter pulled her attention toward the kitchen—and there she was, Jingfei, commanding the chaos with a wooden spoon like it was a Generals staff. Her eyes, sharp as ever, flicked from one flustered kitchen hand to the next.
"No, no—gods help me, that's coriander, not wolfsbane. I'm feeding them, not sending them to the afterlife!" Jingfei snapped, swatting a hapless young elf on the shoulder.
The poor soul jumped and nearly upended an entire basket of potatoes.
Mei-Ling covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.
"Laugh all you want," Jingfei called without turning.
"You're on vegetable duty tomorrow if I catch you loitering."
Unable to help herself, Mei-Ling smiled and bowed lightly, though the gesture was lost on her friend's back.
She wandered further until a tranquil pond lured her in. Crystal water mirrored the sky above, a thin waterfall feeding it in a soft cascade. Mei-Ling knelt, brushing her fingers over the surface, savouring the cool touch. But as she gazed into the depths, another reflection joined hers.
Aelric.
He stood with arms crossed, shadows clinging to the sharp lines of his jaw, his ice blue flecked eyes steady and unreadable. She stiffened under his gaze, warmth crawling up her neck.
"You're feeling better," Aelric said finally, his voice low and measured—almost amused. "Good. You were half-dead when they dragged you in. I hate wasting resources."
Mei-Ling blinked at him, lips twitching as if fighting the urge to smile. Resource? She mimicked the word under her breath, testing it, before rolling her eyes and flashing him a grin.
"Then... I must be very... expensive."
Aelric's brow lifted, a surprised chuckle escaping him.
"Expensive? Hah. You nearly cost me a patrol and a week's worth of healing salves. You're a bloody fortune." He folded his arms.
"At least you're walking now. That should cut the costs."
Mei-Ling grinned wider, emboldened.
" Maybe I'll repay you... someday. Make you rich beyond dreams". Her accent coloured the words, but the teasing glint in her jade eyes was unmistakable.
"Rich?" Aelric smirked, playing along.
"How? You got hidden treasure stashed away, little Princess? Planning to conjure gold out of thin air?"
She shook her head, thoughtful now.
" No gold... but a story, perhaps? Worth more than treasure where I come from".
Aelric's curiosity sparked at the shift in her tone.
"And where exactly is that?" he asked, his voice softer.
Mei-Ling hesitated, then sat, legs tucked beneath her.
"Far. Another world... beyond sky, clouds, and dreams. Hard to explain." She fumbled for words, then simply pressed her hand over her heart.
"Home. They call it the Valley of a Hundred Flowers."
" Valley of a Hundred Flowers." Aelric echoed, savoring the unfamiliar syllables. "Sounds... poetic. Let me guess—some peaceful land of flowers and silk?"
Mei-Ling snorted—a decidedly unladylike sound that made Aelric blink in surprise.
"Silk, yes. But peace? Hardly. The court's a nest of vipers—honeyed smiles masking blades for hearts."
Aelric gave a dry laugh.
"Ah... so not so different from here, then."
She gave him a small, wry smile, tracing circles in the dirt.
"Father promised me off. A marriage... a political tie. Some fat old man with too many wives." Her lips curled in distaste.
"I had no choice. So, I ran." She glanced up, catching his gaze.
"Magic opened a door. I... fell through. Landed here."
Aelric watched her in silence, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
"Escaping a political marriage by jumping worlds? That's... dramatic."
"Desperate," Mei-Ling corrected, a ghost of a smile playing at her lips.
"But... better here. Even with strange creatures."
He smirked. "Strange creatures and me. I'm not sure which is worse."
"You," Mei-Ling shot back instantly, grinning.
Aelric barked a laugh, genuine and rough around the edges.
"Cheeky Princess."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"So what now, Mei-Ling? Hide forever? Or do you plan to turn our world upside down, too?"
Mei-Ling shrugged, jade eyes thoughtful.
"No plan. Only air in my lungs, freedom in my veins... and someday, a new story to tell".
There was a pause, something soft lingering in the air between them. Aelric studied her, silver-flecked eyes narrowing slightly.
"You know... for someone who fell out of the sky, you don't sound like a lost girl."
Mei-Ling smirked, a teasing glint in her jade eyes. "You're curious... You want to ask."
Aelric exhaled slowly, then gave in. "Fine. How old are you, really?"
Mei-Ling blinked once, then shrugged lightly. "Three millennia. Give or take a decade."
Aelric choked. "Three... thousand?" His voice dropped, eyes scanning her face like the number might suddenly etch itself into her skin. "You're lying."
She grinned, clearly amused. "No. Lotus spirits age... differently. I look twenty in your eyes, don't I?"
Aelric stiffened. "Maybe... younger." He cleared his throat. "And here I was... worried I'd crush you like glass."
Mei-Ling's lips curled. "How old are you then, General!"
"Two hundred," Aelric muttered, almost embarrassed. "Barely grown, by your standards, I suppose."
Mei-Ling's laughter bubbled out, bright and delighted. "A child, really. Should I call you little one now?"
Aelric scowled. "Try it, and I'll throw you back into the damned forest."
"Fine... Ally-reek," she shot back, butchering his name deliberately, watching his face twist.
Aelric let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "You're trouble. I can see it already."
"Yes," she agreed shamelessly, smile wicked. "But... maybe the good kind of trouble?"
His gaze softened, lingering on her far longer than it should have. "Maybe," he murmured—almost to himself.
For a long moment, they just sat there—two strangers from worlds apart, bound by circumstance, slowly stitching together the first fragile thread of something neither dared name.
****
It has been weeks since has arrived at the outpost and Mei-Ling has kept her distance, but her eyes followed Aelric—how he trained his men, how his jaw clenched when he gave orders, how the others barely dared speak around him.
He moved like a blade unsheathed—controlled, sharp, dangerous. Every gesture, every clipped command held weight. When he walked across the courtyard, conversations faltered, spines straightened, and even the most hardened soldiers lowered their gazes in deference.
Mei-Ling found herself studying him more than she'd admit, memorizing the way his silver hair curled damp at the nape of his neck after sparring, how his tunic clung to him, dampened with sweat and streaked with dust. He barked orders in a voice that could strip bark from trees, but she noticed the subtle signs of restraint—the flicker of patience, the glances he cast toward the wounded, the way he stayed behind after drills to adjust a soldier's stance or knot a loosened strap.
Jingfei, ever watching, nudged her with a smirk.
"You stare any harder, Princess, his pants might catch fire."
"I'm studying my potential enemies," Mei-Ling lied smoothly, eyes narrowing as Aelric corrected a soldier's footwork with a sharp nudge of his boot.
"Studying his ass," Jingfei whispered. "I get it."
Mei-Ling elbowed her, cheeks pink. "You're impossible."
"And you're transparent," Jingfei retorted, flicking a peeled fruit core toward her lap.
"You're like a kitten trying to stalk a lion—tail twitching, ears forward, thinking no one notices the staring."
"I'm not—staring," Mei-Ling protested, though her gaze betrayed her again, drawn helplessly to the way Aelric spun a practice blade in his hand—casual, but precise.
"Mmm." Jingfei leaned back on her elbows, watching him too now, though her interest was far more clinical. "He's dangerous. Not just in body. The kind that survives every battle, not because he's lucky—but because he calculates who dies before the blade is even drawn."
Mei-Ling didn't answer. She knew. She could feel it—like the way predators recognized each other in silence. Aelric wore command like a second skin. He didn't shout to be obeyed. He simply existed, and the world rearranged itself around him.
"Still," Jingfei went on, tone lighter, "credit where it's due. That man wears armor like sin wears temptation."
Mei-Ling choked on her breath. "You're awful."
Jingfei grinned. "You like awful. Admit it."
"...He's interesting," Mei-Ling conceded, then added, quieter, "And... unpredictable."
"Mm. Dangerous. Dark. Brooding. Definitely your type."
"I don't have a type."
"You do now." Jingfei turned her head, eyeing her friend sidelong. "So? Are you going to flirt? Or just burn holes into the back of his neck until he turns around and arrests you for assault?"
Mei-Ling plucked a grape from the basket between them and threw it at her. Jingfei caught it in her mouth with a smirk.
But the banter couldn't entirely mask the tension curling in Mei-Ling's chest like coiled smoke. Because Aelric had turned once—just once—during one of those silent, stolen moments.
And he had seen her watching.
He hadn't looked away.
He'd tilted his head slightly, one brow lifting in cool acknowledgment—like he'd known all along. Then he'd returned to barking commands, leaving her heart pounding like war drums.
Now, even across the courtyard, she felt the echo of that moment. A prickle along her spine. A magnet pull beneath her skin.
Jingfei nudged her again. "If you don't talk to him soon, I will. And I bite."
Mei-Ling exhaled slowly, brushing imaginary lint from her sleeve, regal mask sliding back into place. "He wouldn't know what to do with either of us."
"Oh, I think he would," Jingfei said with a grin that could start fires. "Question is... could you handle him?"
Mei-Ling didn't answer.
Because she didn't know.
Not yet.
But she wanted to find out.