The carriage jolted over the rough dirt road, and Elowen gripped the edge of her seat, her pulse quickening. Outside, the forest stretched endlessly, dark shapes swaying in the evening wind. The air smelled of wet earth and pine—a sharp, clean scent unlike anything she had ever known. No smoke, no cars, no concrete… just trees, wind, and the distant sound of horses.
Her hands trembled slightly, but not from fear of the road. The man beside her—Darcien, the Monster Prince—radiated a presence so cold and intense it made the air itself feel heavier. Most people would have frozen in terror. She had felt it in the palace already. Yet, strangely, she did not.
"Okay… wow," she muttered under her breath, leaning slightly toward the window. The forest passed in streaks of shadow and rain. "This is… really different."
Darcien's dark eyes flicked toward her, but he said nothing. He simply closed them briefly, resting his jaw in perfect stillness. The silence pressed down like steel, yet she felt… oddly safe.
The carriage driver's hands shook on the reins. "Your Highness… there's an inn up ahead. Shelter for the horses and travelers."
Darcien's eyes opened, cold and sharp, scanning the road. "Very well," he said, voice calm and commanding, yet utterly devoid of warmth. The driver stiffened immediately, fear sharpening his every movement.
Elowen climbed out of the carriage behind him, careful not to slip in the mud. Her skirts were damp, but she hardly noticed. She looked at the small inn, sniffing the wet air, taking in the smell of earth and firelight.
Inside, everything froze. Patrons and staff stopped what they were doing, staring. Mothers clutched their children. Men paled. The innkeeper's hands shook. Everyone seemed to hold their breath. Fear of the Monster Prince was palpable.
Elowen alone smiled faintly. She was still nervous—her heart still thumped—but not afraid. She followed him to the hearth, letting her eyes linger on the flames and the smell of the warm wood.
She leaned slightly toward him, voice casual. "Hey… why aren't there more guards with you? Shouldn't someone… like, protect you?"
Darcien's eyes remained half-closed. He didn't answer. The faint rise and fall of his chest was the only acknowledgment she received. The sheer calm of it, the stillness, carried more weight than any words could.
Elowen blinked, shrugged, and muttered, "Huh… okay. Didn't see that coming."
The rain began to fall harder, drumming on the carriage roof and tapping against the inn's wooden beams. Inside, the fire crackled warmly. Patrons whispered cautiously, careful not to draw his attention. Elowen leaned back, taking in the warmth and the faint scent of wet wood, and let herself smile faintly.
"The fire… smells nice," she said softly, almost to herself. "Feels good after all that rain."
Darcien's head tilted slightly, eyes still closed, as if he were merely listening without speaking. That was enough for her. Most people would have cowered or stayed silent. She… didn't.
Four days lay ahead. She didn't know the roads, the towns, or what dangers awaited them. But she would endure. She would quietly support him. She would be the only one brave enough to speak freely to the Monster Prince, even if he never answered.
Before they could go upstairs, the innkeeper appeared at the bottom of the stairs, bowing nervously. His hands shook slightly as he addressed Darcien.
"Your Highness," he said, voice quivering. "What would you and your… companion like to eat or drink before retiring?"
Darcien didn't look at him. He simply inclined his head once, enough to signal acknowledgment. The innkeeper flinched slightly at the stillness in the prince's gaze, but recovered.
"I… I can prepare whatever you wish," the innkeeper continued, voice hurried. "And the payment… please, it can be settled now."
Maya peeked at him, eyebrows raised. "Wow… everyone really is terrified of him," she whispered under her breath. "Even this poor guy."
The innkeeper hesitated, then accepted payment from Darcien without another word. His hands trembled slightly as he handed over coins, and Darcien's calm, cold presence seemed to tighten around him like a physical weight.
Once the formalities were finished, they climbed the narrow stairs to the room.
The inn room was small, just a single large bed pushed against the far wall. Rain still drummed steadily against the roof, the sound muffled slightly by the thick wooden beams. Maya's heart skipped a beat.
"Wait… what?" she murmured to herself. "They actually want us to… share a bed?"
In Elowen's past life as the princess, they had never shared a room, let alone a bed. Maya blinked, feeling a small wave of surprise and discomfort. Her hands clutched the blanket instinctively as she took in the unfamiliar intimacy of the situation.
Darcien stood by the window, hands behind his back, gazing out at the storm. Shadows of the forest pressed against the glass, but he didn't move toward the bed, nor did he seem concerned by the close quarters. The quiet confidence in his stance made the room feel colder than the rain outside.
Maya tugged at the corner of her damp skirts, nerves bubbling. "Um… so… we're, uh… sharing this bed?" she asked softly, trying to sound casual, though her voice betrayed her surprise.
Darcien didn't look at her. He simply inclined his head once, as if that answered everything. Then he moved to the side of the bed, settling onto one edge with precision, leaving her the other half. His movements were measured, calm, and utterly controlled—like nothing could touch him, not even her presence.
Maya climbed onto the bed, adjusting to the strange reality of the room. She hugged the blanket around herself and let her gaze wander to the storm outside. The world smelled like wet wood and rain, the fire from earlier no longer warm, but comforting in memory.
She exhaled quietly. This… this was going to be a very long four days. Sharing a room with a man everyone feared, a man she barely knew, a man the world called a monster… it was intimidating. Yet, she felt a small thrill in being the only one who could speak to him freely, who could sit here without fear.
The room grew darker as the night deepened. Maya felt her eyes grow heavy, the sound of the storm lulling her toward sleep. And as she drifted off, fragments of memories—some her own, some belonging to Elowen—began to creep into her mind.
⸻
In her dream, she saw herself years ago—not as Maya, but as the young princess Elowen. She remembered the bustling hall filled with people she barely knew. She was serving drinks, moving carefully between the tables, her hands shaking slightly. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: "Keep your head down, Elowen. We need this money."
And then she saw him—Darcien. Only he wasn't the Monster Prince yet, just a man whose presence made everyone else shrink, quiet, afraid. She remembered the first time she noticed him: tall, sharp, his gaze sweeping the room like he already owned it. Her heart had skipped, and even then, she had known.
Her mother had been sick, struggling to keep the family afloat, and Darcien had needed a wife for appearances, for society, for convenience. They had signed the marriage certificate quietly. Two years of a contract. Two years where he barely came home. Two years of silent dinners, absent conversations, the cold distance she had endured… but she had loved him anyway.
She remembered the funeral—the raw, aching grief when her mother died. Her fingers traced the coffin's edge, the scent of flowers heavy in the air. And then… the wine. Too much wine. Too much courage.
She remembered leaning toward him, lips trembling. "I… I love you," she had whispered, almost shouting into the void that was his stoic, unresponsive face. But he hadn't said anything. Not a word. Only that sharp, unreadable stare that had always made her feel small and exposed… and somehow, entirely seen.
The world had gone blurry after that night. Maya hadn't remembered anything—the alcohol had swallowed it, leaving only a vague ache. But now, in Elowen's body, the memories came back, sharp and clear. Every missed look, every silent supper, every pang of unspoken love—it all washed over her at once.
And then the dream shifted, flowing backward in time. She saw little Elowen, running through a dense forest, tiny feet pounding the soft earth, heart racing. She was clutching at a worn cloak, her hair tangled with leaves, and beside her was a woman she did not recognize—tall, strong, moving with purpose, shielding her.
"Keep moving, Elowen. Don't look back. You must stay safe," the woman had whispered. Her voice was gentle, yet firm, carrying both authority and comfort.
Elowen laughed briefly, breathless and wild, the pure joy of running mixed with fear. The forest beneath her smelled of wet earth, of pine and moss. The shadow of danger pressed close, and the woman pulled her tighter, whispering urgently, "Not yet, Elowen. Not yet."
Maya shivered in the bed, even within the dream. This memory felt as real as the storm outside the inn. She was not just recalling the past; she was reliving it, sensing the fear, the protection, and a strange promise of survival.
Slowly, the dream began to fade, melting into the dark, wet, stormy night of the inn. She stirred beneath the blankets, clutching the soft sheets, feeling the strange warmth of this body, this bed.
Even in sleep, even in dreams, she could feel him… and her heart whispered the same truth she had carried for so long: she still loved him.
⸻
The storm outside had softened into a gentle patter by the time Maya's eyes fluttered open. For a long moment, she just lay there, staring at the dark ceiling, letting her mind sift through the fragments of the dream.
Her chest ached with the weight of memory. She had remembered everything—Elowen's quiet love for Darcien, the lonely years of the contract marriage, the funeral, the drunken confession. And then… little Elowen running through the forest, a mysterious woman shielding her from some unseen danger.
Maya swallowed hard, pressing the blanket closer to herself. I… I really did love him, she thought, the words strange on her lips even in her own mind. Not the crown prince of this strange, medieval world. Not even the man who was sitting inches away from her now. But him—the man she had known in her modern life, her husband, the same face, voice, and structure now in this past world.
Her eyes drifted to the edge of the bed, where Darcien sat—or rather, where he had never really slept. His posture was perfect, his back straight, his hands resting lightly on his knees. His eyes were closed, the slightest rise and fall of his chest the only indication of life. He didn't stir, didn't speak, didn't even acknowledge her awakening.
Maya let out a quiet breath, a mixture of awe and exasperation. Of course, she thought. Of course he wouldn't say anything. He's… him.
The room smelled of damp wood and the faint traces of rain that had seeped through the beams. Outside, the forest stretched dark and silent. Maya sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and let herself take it all in. The cold air, the unfamiliar bed, the gentle sound of Darcien's breathing.
Her mind wandered again to the dream—Elowen's memories were still vivid, but the connection to her own modern life was strange, unsettling. She had lived as Maya for so long, but now she could feel Elowen's past, understand her pain and her courage. And she realized something that made her heart twist: this was why she felt so drawn to him, even now.
She leaned back against the headboard, letting herself relax a little. Most people in this world would have cowered, trembled, or whispered in fear, but not her. She was awake now, conscious of the bed, the room, the Monster Prince, and yet she didn't feel terror. She felt something else: curiosity, cautious comfort, and an odd, stubborn determination to understand him… and perhaps, to protect him in her own quiet way.
Darcien remained still, eyes closed, the very image of cold control. Maya let a small, almost imperceptible smile tug at her lips. She had learned early on: sometimes, people like him never said what they felt. You could only observe, wait, and understand in silence.
And she would.
The storm outside had eased into a gentle drizzle, the soft tapping on the roof blending with the rhythm of her own heartbeat. For the first time since the accident, Maya allowed herself to breathe fully, knowing the days ahead would be strange, dangerous, and exhausting—but also… entirely, undeniably hers.
⸻
Maya woke to the gentle patter of rain against the roof. The room was dim, lit only by the gray light seeping through the window. She blinked, stretching lightly, and her eyes fell on him—Darcien. He sat rigid at the edge of the bed, back straight, hands folded neatly on his lap, eyes closed. Even in sleep—or pretending to sleep—he radiated the kind of authority that made everyone else in a room shrink.
She hugged the blanket closer, trying not to stare. It was strange, sharing a bed with him. In Elowen's life, they had never been this close. She had never imagined she'd be here, in this body, in this situation, with him so near, yet so untouchable.
A small part of her wanted to laugh. Well, this is awkward, she thought, biting her lip. She shifted quietly so she could sit up without disturbing him, noting the sound of the rain, the faint scent of wet wood, the warmth of the blankets.
She tried to speak, her voice soft in the still room. "Morning," she said, almost to herself.
Darcien didn't move. Not a twitch. Not a sound. Just the faint rise and fall of his chest. Maya let out a quiet sigh and shook her head. Figures. He's… him.
She leaned back against the headboard, letting the blanket fall loosely around her shoulders. Her gaze drifted to the window. The forest stretched far into the distance, dark and misty, alive with the sound of dripping rain. It's… so different from home, she thought. So quiet. So… clean.
Silence filled the room, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Somehow, in this strange, tense quiet, she felt… safe. Most people would have trembled in the same room with him, but she didn't. She understood a little of his power, a little of his reputation. And somehow, knowing she wasn't afraid gave her a quiet confidence she hadn't expected.
She hugged the blanket tighter, letting herself think about the dreams again—the adult memories of Elowen, the little girl running through the forest, the mysterious woman who had protected her. Her chest tightened, but it wasn't fear—it was anticipation, a strange pull toward the man who sat just inches away, silent and cold.
Maya closed her eyes briefly, letting the rhythm of the rain and the quiet presence of Darcien fill the room. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but she knew one thing.
She was ready.
By morning, the rain had mostly stopped, leaving the forest fresh and glistening under a gray sky. Sunlight pierced through the mist in scattered beams, casting long shadows across the muddy path outside the inn. Maya sat on the edge of the bed, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. Her fingers hesitated for a moment, remembering the dream—Elowen's past, the little girl running through the forest, the woman who had sheltered her. The memories pressed against her chest, a quiet reminder that this world had deep roots she didn't yet understand.
Darcien was already dressed, standing near the door with perfect posture. His expression remained unreadable, as always, but Maya noticed the way the morning light brushed the sharp planes of his face, making him seem almost unreal.
She took a deep breath and slid off the bed. Okay… let's do this.
The innkeeper appeared at the doorway, bowing nervously. "Your Highness. Your… lady. The carriage is ready, and breakfast has been prepared if you wish to eat before departing."
Maya glanced at Darcien. He didn't move, didn't acknowledge the man. After a tense pause, the innkeeper muttered something about leaving the food and hurried out of the room.
"Ready?" Maya asked quietly, testing the waters.
Darcien's eyes were closed for a fraction of a second, and then he gave the smallest nod. No words, no emotion. Just… approval.
Maya swallowed a smile and made her way outside. The forest stretched on either side of the road, alive with the scent of wet leaves and damp earth. The path was muddy, rutted with the marks of carts and horses, unfamiliar to her eyes but somehow simple in its clarity compared to the endless buildings and smog of her old city.
The carriage waited—a sturdy, wooden construct with dark leather drapes that flapped lightly in the breeze. Maya climbed inside first, settling against the cushioned bench. She hugged her cloak closer, taking in the forest around her, the soft hum of the carriage wheels rolling over the uneven road, the faint creak of leather straps.
Darcien followed, climbing in with deliberate grace. He seated himself opposite her, still silent, still perfectly composed. Maya stole a glance at him, noting the sharp lines of his face, the way his posture seemed to command the entire carriage. Fear and awe would have struck anyone else, but she felt only curiosity.
The carriage started moving, and Maya leaned back, letting the motion relax her slightly. The forest passed in streaks of green and brown, the occasional flash of bird or fox in the underbrush. It was beautiful, peaceful, and completely unlike anything she had ever seen. She breathed in the fresh air, letting it fill her lungs.
After a few moments of silence, she tried speaking. "So… four days, huh? That's… a long ride."
Darcien didn't answer. He simply leaned back, eyes closing, letting the quiet of the forest and the rhythm of the carriage fill the space.
Maya tilted her head, watching the trees. "I guess… I'll just… look at the scenery, then," she said softly. "It's… nice. Calming."
Still no response, but she didn't mind. Somehow, she felt that his silence wasn't hostility. It was just… him. And she could handle him. She could observe, learn, and maybe, in time, understand the man everyone else called a monster.
The carriage rolled on, deeper into the forest, deeper into the unknown. And Maya let herself relax, even a little, knowing that these days ahead would test her, challenge her… but also, perhaps, change her.
⸻
The carriage rolled to a slow stop under the shade of a large oak tree, its branches bending slightly under the remnants of rain. The driver jumped down immediately, bowing low to Darcien.
"Your Highness, we've reached the next stop. There is an inn ahead where you may rest and eat," he said, voice trembling slightly.
Darcien simply inclined his head once. Maya unlatched the carriage door and stepped out, stretching her legs. The forest air was crisp, the sun finally cutting through the clouds, and she took a deep breath, savoring it.
Inside the inn, the small dining room smelled of roasted meats and herbs. Long wooden tables were set with plates and utensils that looked unfamiliar but sturdy. Servants bustled around, whispering and glancing at Darcien as if he were a storm cloud come to life.
Maya took her seat, glancing down at the food in front of her. A thick stew, oily bread, and something that looked like boiled roots. She poked at it with her fork, her face carefully neutral.
Ugh… this is going to be a long trip, she thought. She barely touched the stew, picking at a small piece of bread, sipping water from the wooden cup.
Darcien's dark eyes swept over her. He raised an eyebrow. "You eat very little," he said flatly.
Maya shrugged, trying to look indifferent. "Yeah… just watching my… diet," she muttered. In truth, she loved food—she just didn't want to draw attention or make a fuss in this world that clearly observed everything.
Darcien studied her quietly, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, and Maya took a bite of bread, chewing slowly. He might think she was delicate, restrained, and proper—one of those princesses who ate little to maintain appearances—but inside, she was thinking about how hungry she really was and how strange it was that this "princess" body came with all these rules.
Finally, she leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. "Well… that's done," she said lightly, forcing a smile. "Let's get going again before it rains more."
Darcien nodded slightly, eyes still fixed on her. Interesting, he thought, though he said nothing aloud. He had expected another dainty, timid princess who would tremble at every movement or glance. This one… this one was quiet, yes, but she wasn't afraid. Not even in his presence. And that intrigued him, though he didn't yet understand why.
Maya caught the hint of scrutiny but didn't care. She picked up her cloak and followed him back to the carriage, feeling a little thrill in knowing that, even in silence, she had already disrupted his expectations.
⸻
The carriage rumbled along the cobbled streets, the walls of the city growing taller with every turn. Maya shifted slightly, trying not to squirm too obviously, but the tightness of the corset pressed into her ribs, making it hard to breathe fully. She had never imagined a ride like this—four days in a rigid, stiff outfit—and the modern ease of t-shirts and loose pants was a distant memory.
She let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. How did people even move like this every day? She thought, tugging lightly at the laces under her gown. Her discomfort wasn't just physical—it was a constant reminder that she was far from her world, trapped in someone else's body, someone else's expectations.
Darcien, sitting opposite her, noticed the subtle movements of her hands at her waist, but said nothing. His dark eyes were fixed ahead, cold and unreadable, like he could see everything yet chose to acknowledge nothing. Most people would have been trembling under his gaze, but Maya merely clenched her teeth for a moment and straightened her back, letting the corset remind her she was… still learning to survive here.
As they approached the palace gates, Maya's eyes widened at the sight. Massive stone walls, towers reaching high into the sky, and guards in dark leather and metal lining the streets. The banners of the crown prince fluttered in the wind, and the occasional whisper of townsfolk carried through the streets.
She hugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, partly to hide her discomfort, partly to feel a small sense of security. The carriage passed between the massive gates with a low, echoing rumble, and Maya felt the weight of thousands of eyes on them.
Darcien didn't flinch. He simply guided the horses along with precise control, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. But Maya noticed the subtle shift in the way guards and onlookers moved—people whispered, bowed, and stepped back at his presence, their fear almost palpable.
She let out a soft, quiet laugh, more to herself than anyone else. Well, this is… intense. She adjusted her skirt and tried to ease the tightness of the corset again, letting her fingers brush against the laces just enough to remind herself: she would survive this, one tight breath at a time.
Finally, the carriage pulled up in front of the palace. Its massive doors were carved with intricate symbols, banners hung high, and guards stood stiffly at attention. Maya took a deep breath and straightened her back, forcing herself to appear as composed as possible, though every inch of her body screamed in protest against the corset.
Darcien opened the carriage door with deliberate precision. Maya stepped out carefully, her shoes sinking slightly into the gravel. The chill of the stone courtyard and the stares of assembled guards and servants pressed against her like a physical weight.
She glanced at Darcien, who offered nothing but a faint tilt of his head toward the palace entrance—a silent indication that they were expected. Maya swallowed, adjusted her gown and corset one last time, and followed him, letting her modern mind quietly remind her: Just act natural. Breathe. You can do this.
And with that, they walked toward the palace doors, Maya acutely aware of the corset, the stares, and the monster prince who sat silently opposite her for days, now leading her into the heart of his world.
⸻
The massive doors of the palace creaked open as Darcien led the carriage into the courtyard. Guards straightened immediately, their hands gripping spears, eyes lowered in deference. Servants appeared seemingly from nowhere, bowing as they hurried forward to take the princess's belongings from the carriage.
Maya stiffened, glancing at the crowd. Every single one of them—guards, attendants, even the young page boys—was striking in a way she hadn't expected. Tall, broad-shouldered, their movements smooth and controlled. Their faces were handsome, with sharp features and clear, perfect skin, their eyes alert and piercing. She swallowed, feeling slightly out of place in her stiff corset and unfamiliar gown.
"Uh… thank you," Maya murmured softly. One servant curtsied awkwardly, another half-bowed, and all of them kept stealing glances at Darcien as if afraid he might snap at the smallest mistake.
Darcien, as always, didn't move, didn't speak. He simply watched with that piercing, unreadable expression, one hand resting lightly on the carriage steps as if the entire world were beneath his notice.
Maya shifted uncomfortably in her corset as a young maid approached, holding a small bundle of her belongings. "Your Highness, if you would follow me, your chambers have been prepared," the maid said softly.
Maya nodded and followed, glancing around the palace corridor. Every guard she passed was like a statue carved from some impossible standard of strength and beauty. She frowned slightly. Are all humans… like this here? she wondered. She had never seen people so fit, so flawless in appearance, and it made her feel small and ordinary by comparison.
At last, they reached a spacious room that would be her chambers. A large four-poster bed stood against one wall, heavy curtains framing the tall windows. Servants bustled in and out, arranging her belongings and smoothing the folds of her gown.
Maya sank onto the edge of the bed, letting out a quiet sigh. Finally… a room separate from him, she thought, tugging lightly at the corset to ease the tightness across her ribs. At least here, she could breathe, think, and adjust to the strangeness of this place without worrying about Darcien's piercing gaze.
Through the window, she glimpsed the courtyard again. The guards and staff moved with the same disciplined perfection, their handsome features and commanding presence making them look almost unreal. She shook her head slightly. None of these people are normal… but maybe that's just palace life?
Darcien's figure moved silently through the courtyard, his presence commanding absolute attention. Despite all the striking young men and women around him, he remained the center of fear and respect. Maya hugged her cloak tighter, feeling the corset press against her ribs once more.
So this is the Monster Prince's kingdom, she thought. And somehow… I have to survive here.
Even surrounded by impossible beauty, intimidating men, and a palace full of secrets, a small spark of determination flared inside her. She might not belong here, she might not understand everything, but she would adapt.
And she would do it on her own terms.