Guarded Hearts

Harmony was guided through the wide, ornately decorated doors into the hall of the Dog King and Queen. The hall was thick with the rich scent of wood and metal, and a palpable tension hung in the air. Before her stood King Darius and Queen Selene, their eyes scrutinizing every gesture, every heartbeat.

To the side stood Prince Evander, calm yet carrying a mysterious glint in his eyes—watching Harmony with a mix of caution and curiosity. His stance was firm, not hostile, only ready to act if danger appeared.

The King and Queen, still convinced of their understanding of the prophecy, expected Harmony to “serve only the Dog Kingdom.” But deep down, Harmony already knew there was something more—and that her mission extended beyond the borders of a single world.

Harmony stood tall, her back straight, eyes firm yet gentle. When the Queen asked, “Are you ready to help our people, as the prophecy dictates?” Harmony answered:

“Not just one people. I know we can find a way together that will bring peace to both the Dog and Cat clans. It wouldn’t be right to help only one side.”

Evander watched silently, his gaze softening the tension in the hall. The Queen raised an eyebrow, while the King clenched his hands. In their minds, the prophecy was absolute—but Harmony saw something they did not.

“The fulfillment of the prophecy means power for our kingdom,” the King said, voice firm. “We must ensure that you remain under our control.”

The Queen nodded. “You are bound to us. You will stay on our side.”

Harmony’s gaze fell to the floor, a wave of injustice spreading through her. Evander observed the scene, his heart torn between duty to his King and curiosity about the girl who seemed so different.

The King continued, “We will arrange for you to always be under supervision. We will control where you go and who you meet. If the prophecy demands her aid, we will ensure it serves only our kingdom.”

Harmony thought quietly that she would need to be careful—she could not trust the King and Queen. Though it felt as if she were a prisoner, a determined fire still burned in her heart: she would not allow one side to gain power alone.

Evander stepped closer to the King and Queen, his voice calm yet resolute:

“I will take responsibility for her protection. We do not need any additional measures as long as I am with her.”

The King and Queen exchanged glances, weighing whether to trust him. The prince’s determination was not a challenge but a safeguard—something that did not entirely align with their plans, yet they respected it.

Harmony, still slightly dazed, looked at Evander. His expression was not threatening but cautious and firm—as if to say he would not allow any harm to come to her.

“Do not be afraid,” he added softly. “You will not be alone. As long as I am here, nothing will happen to you.”

Harmony felt a mixture of relief and tentative trust. Though still a captive, her position was now somewhat less perilous.

Despite her excitement, Harmony sensed tension—every step was measured, as she knew the kingdom’s inhabitants still had no knowledge of who she truly was or what role she would play. Evander quietly explained,

“I must keep my eyes on you. I know they from the Cat Kingdom will try to reach you by any means. I will not allow it.”

One day, Harmony watched the young dog children playing in the castle gardens. Some glanced at her with curiosity, others with suspicion. When she approached, one of the younger ones asked,

“Why does the prince hide you? Are you… from outside?”

Harmony smiled and nodded slightly.

“Yes, from outside. But I won’t harm you. Sometimes worlds are different, but that doesn’t mean we can’t understand each other.”

Evander observed from the shadows as Harmony built bridges of curiosity and respect, seeing how the children gradually accepted her presence. A sense began to stir within him that her difference could truly change the dynamic between the dog and cat worlds.

Harmony began learning their customs, recognizing tensions among the children, and gently resolving disputes. She slowly earned their trust, though the prince remained cautious: every success or mistake of hers could have consequences.

Harmony stepped slightly closer, still cautious, and asked,

“Why are you so serious?” she whispered. “Why can’t you… smile a little?”

Evander lifted his gaze; his eyes were sharp brown, yet devoid of warmth.

“No detail can escape me,” he replied curtly. “I am not here to smile, but to protect.”

Harmony did not give up.

“But at least a little… you could. You’re human too, aren’t you?”

For a moment, Evander clenched his jaw and shifted back just enough to feel the wall between them.

“Human or not… my purpose is not to let anyone get too close. Not even you.”

Harmony tried again.

“But I… I want to help. I can’t just stand by and watch everyone… be so serious, so focused, or watch you control me.”

The prince held his gaze, showing no emotion. His voice remained cold:

“Observe, listen, learn. That is all you are allowed for now.”

Harmony felt a mix of frustration and curiosity. The wall around Evander was not just coldness—it was deliberate, firm, and unbreakable.

Every day, Harmony’s questions came like clockwork, soft yet insistent. As they walked through the garden, children chasing butterflies and birds singing in the distance, she tilted her head.

“Can you please smile, just a bit?” she asked again, her voice gentle, almost teasing. “You’ve been serious for days. Don’t you ever… relax?”

Evander’s lips pressed into a thin line. He let out a barely audible sigh, jaw tightening.

“I am not here to relax,” he said, his tone sharper than usual. His brown eyes, normally so calm, flickered with a hint of frustration.

Harmony blinked, undeterred.

“But… if you smile, I might quit asking the same questions.”

He exhaled slowly, a low hum of irritation in his throat.

“Harmony,” he said, turning to face her fully, “I do not see the point in smiling when there is so much at stake. Every detail, every step, every glance matters.” His voice was firm, but there was a subtle edge—a warning, a crack in his patience.

Harmony’s gaze softened, but her persistence did not waver.

“I understand that… I do. But smiling doesn’t make you careless. It doesn’t weaken your duty. Sometimes it… it helps you see the world differently. Helps people trust you.”

Evander’s eyes narrowed slightly, a shadow crossing his expression.

“And yet you ask the same question again. Day after day. Do you not grow tired of answers you will not accept?” His voice was calm but sharp, a faint tremor betraying the irritation he tried to hide.

Harmony’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

“Maybe I’m hoping one day your answer will be different.”

That made him pause. For a heartbeat, he looked at her—this girl who didn’t back down, who poked at his armor without malice. His heart thumped with an emotion he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name. And yet, the next moment, he straightened, a faint scowl returning.

“You are persistent,” he said, voice low and measured, though there was a reluctant warmth. “Almost maddeningly so.”

Harmony chuckled softly.

“I take that as a compliment.”

Evander clenched his fists, gripping the edges of his cloak to hide the twitch of a smile he would never admit to.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Maybe I do,” Harmony whispered, tilting her head innocently. “Maybe I want to.”

He stared at her, exasperated yet captivated. For all his training, all his duty, all his caution, something about her unrelenting curiosity and kindness stirred a strange warmth he couldn’t ignore. Every day, her questions chipped a little at his walls. Every word, every small gesture, forced him to acknowledge something he had long buried—humanity. And perhaps, if he allowed himself to feel it, even hope.

“Fine,” he muttered, voice gruff but quieter now, almost a concession. “Perhaps… a small smile, once in a while. But do not expect it often.”

Harmony’s eyes sparkled.