Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 274: The Promise

Lara looked away first. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the color blooming across her face like fire racing through dry grass. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest, each beat loud enough, she feared, for Alaric to hear. What was happening to her? Why did the mere sound of his voice make her breath catch? Did she... like him?

Outside, the soft pitter-patter of rain began to drum against the carriage roof, a gentle, rhythmic cascade that grew louder by the second. The scent of damp earth and summer air wafted in as the sky darkened. The coachman clucked to the horses and guided them beneath a sprawling tree, its thick canopy offering a shield from the downpour. They were only halfway to the Norse mansion, yet the sudden pause in their journey felt like the world itself had taken a breath.

"Look over there!" Prince Alaric said, his voice alight with wonder. He pointed to the east.

Lara followed his gaze, leaning forward and craning her neck. Her breath hitched.

Suspended in the misty sky was a double rainbow, two brilliant arches painted across the heavens. The first rainbow blazed with vivid hues—red, orange, gold, and green, each color more vibrant than the last. The second, fainter and more ethereal, hovered like a whisper of magic behind the first. It was as if the sky itself had split open to reveal a secret meant only for them.

"I told you," Alaric murmured, his voice low and reverent, "we are fated. Even the heavens bear witness—and grant us their blessing."

He took her hand gently, their fingers slipping together like two puzzle pieces finding their match. Slowly, deliberately, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss upon her knuckles. The sensation sparked across her skin, a warm tingling coursed up her arm and spread through her chest like wildfire.

Lara’s instincts warred within her. She ought to pull away, to protect herself—but she didn’t. Instead, she soaked in the warmth of his touch, the sense of being seen, cherished, as if she were the only person in the world who mattered.

She turned her gaze upward again. The primary rainbow had grown even more radiant, like a celestial torch lighting the sky. The secondary arc, softer and ghost-like, shimmered in the background—a mirror image created by the light’s secret dance within the same raindrops.

"I..." Lara hesitated. What could she say in this moment that wouldn’t shatter it?

Alaric gently placed his finger over her lips. It was so gentle that Lara felt that it was like a dragonfly’s wing brushing her skin.

Then, with a glimmer in his eyes, he reached into his coat pocket and drew out a small velvet-wrapped box. It was smooth, rich with promise.

"Open it," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Lara’s hand trembled as she lifted the lid. Nestled inside was a silver necklace, delicate and gleaming. Her breath hitched again as she opened the locket hanging from the chain—and gasped. Inside, a tiny painted portrait stared back at her: a miniature Alaric, no older than six, beside a wide-eyed toddler.

Her.

Her eyes widened in astonishment. "This... this is a couple necklace?"

Alaric smiled softly. "I had Mathias commission a replica. I wanted to give it to you..." He plucked the necklace from its velvet bed and held it up. "May I?"

Lara nodded.

He leaned in, his face drawing closer, filling her vision. For a heartbeat, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he slipped the chain gently around her neck, the cool metal brushing her skin as his arms encircled her protectively. In that moment, she felt both safe and unmoored, as if the world outside the carriage had faded into a quiet blur.

"Thank you," she breathed, her voice hushed with gratitude and wonder.

Alaric smiled again, a smile that reached into his eyes and pulled at her heart. Then, without a word, he handed her the matching half of the necklace—an unspoken promise, forged in silver and sealed by rainbows.

Lara’s fingers closed around the necklace he handed her. The silver was cool, but the gesture warmed her like a hearth fire on a winter’s night. She looked down at it—so simple, yet so profound. Matching pieces, like halves of a whole. Her throat tightened.

Alaric sat close—so close that she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the subtle scent of leather, pine, and something uniquely his. His arm lingered behind her, not quite touching, but close enough that the space between them felt charged, electric.

"I kept the necklace with me since I was a boy," he said, voice low and intimate. "When Mother left me, I used to stare at it whenever I felt lost. I didn’t have a chance to see you again. I am just an unfavored prince." He said bitterly. "But I’d tell myself... that one day, I’d find you again. I didn’t know how or when. But I believed."

Alaric’s gaze bore into hers. Intense, yet adoring.

Lara’s heart thudded. She looked into his eyes—obsidian and steady—and saw no trace of jest or playfulness, only sincerity.

"Then I heard that you were kidnapped and thought to be dead." Alaric closed his eyes as if trying to fight an internal turmoil. "I started to believe that perhaps what other people say is true. That I brought bad luck to the people connected to me."

"Of course not!" Lara protested.

She did not remember the boy in the locket, with tousled hair and that same earnest expression. There was no memory, not even a dream long forgotten. She wasn’t the original Lara. But she felt something for him.

"I don’t remember much from those days," she whispered, "but... I always felt like something—or someone—was missing." Her voice cracked slightly. "Maybe it was you."

Alaric reached for her hand again, and this time, Lara didn’t resist. Their fingers laced together naturally, like vines growing toward the sun.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, each droplet slipping down the carriage windows in lazy trails. A golden hue began to break through the clouds, and shafts of sunlight streamed down from the heavens, casting the inside of the carriage in soft, honeyed light.

"I don’t want you to feel pressured," Alaric said quietly. "This isn’t a declaration, not yet. It’s a hope. A seed I’ve carried for years. What you choose to do with it... that’s yours alone."

Lara’s gaze softened. She reached up and touched the locket at her neck, then looked at him. Really looked. There was no royal mask, no calculated charm. Just a boy grown into a man, daring to be vulnerable.