aamon paxley X o.c. • the duke and the runaway

25.

As the rain gradually ceased its heavy downpour, the ash grey-haired Paxley and the golden brown-haired Crisiant decided to leave for the empire of the race of Yasson, the Alaghat Empire.

The duke was the first one who descended from the tree branch, thumping against the soaked dirt whilst he glanced up at the dart-wielder, his arms wide open, planning to catch her.

She blinked and smiled as she questioned him, "Are you trying to relive the memory?"

He chuckled, shaking his head a bit to the side in order for his hair to move out of his eyes, "Probably. Come, I'll catch you."

"You do know that I can just jump off myself and land effortlessly like before," she told him but he only urged her by gesturing to his arms, waiting for her to leap down from the apple tree.

She sighed, finding the man amusing as she hopped off the brown tree limb without a second thought, perfectly caught by Duke Paxley who was holding her by her waist, her hands supporting herself by clutching on his broad shoulders. The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment before he faked a cough, settling the woman down on her feet as his cheeks faintly glowed with warmth.

Seraphima reacted the same way too, her heart thundering in her ears, she was beginning to think that it might explode into fits of emotional explosions which was why she was thankful that the environment was dark enough to cover the evidence of her dyed cheeks.

Trying to execute his usually reserved composure once more, Aamon said, "I can't believe this."

"You mean the fact that we had met already years ago?"

"Mhm," he hummed as a response then added, "You've grown from who you were used to be."

He finally reminisced the little girl she once were. Same golden brown hair cascading behind her back, however, when she was a child, it was a bit shorter compared to the length of her current mane that reached down almost to her waist. The young Crisiant he had once faced before used to be smaller and possessed a child-like cuteness on her appearance.

But this time, the little girl grew up to be a woman he fell for. Unfortunately, she didn't have any knowledge of his romantic feelings just yet.

"You too," she uttered while studying his features. No matter how many times she looked at him, he was more handsome than when he was a child of nine years. His maturity brought out the enigmatic aura that drew her in like a moth towards a flame. She could still remember what he used to look like back then, just a kid of a noble family who stumbled across her path. The similarities were obvious but Aamon was painstakingly molded into a man fitted to be managing a leadership over his dukedom.

"Anyways," he smiled and watched the the female who walked beside him, "We have to go. Gusion and the others must be waiting for us by the gates. It seems that their leaders are expecting us."

She raised her brow at him, "Who are they?"

He averted his gaze and observed the path they were taking as he spoke, "The race of Yasson, belonging to the empire of Alaghat. Their king and queen invited us over to have shelter from the rain. But since the precipitation stopped, I presume that we will be spending there for the night."

Seraphima then pressed her lips together, contemplating on something that Aamon had guessed. "Should we offer them gifts or something?" Then she looked through her leather satchel and caught sight of the red-colored fruits she have plucked off from the tree, "I have apples."

Upon seeing her sheer intention within her actions, the nobleman let out a mild chuckle as he glanced at the apples within her satchel then with a reassuring voice he told her, "We can. I am sure they'll appreciate fresh picked apples from a fair lady yourself."