The Crack In The Armor

Harmony sat on the soft grass of the royal garden, surrounded by the laughter and footsteps of the young dog children. Their cheerful running, their playful shouts, and their leaps over the flowerbeds carried with them a lightness that made Harmony smile—a smile that felt foreign, almost forgotten, until now.

The children accepted her without judgment. No titles. No prophecy. Just another person to play with. As she chased after them, catching them when they tripped, their giggles filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in so long.

For a moment, she thought, pressing her hand to her chest, I feel like I belong… even if I know I don’t.

But even as she laughed, the feeling of being watched never left her. She could sense it—that steady, unyielding gaze. At the edge of the garden, Prince Evander stood with his arms folded, his eyes locked on her every movement. His face was carved in stone, his presence like a shadow that refused to be shaken off.

Slowly, he began to walk toward her, each step heavy with discipline. The children ran around him, unfazed, but Harmony’s heartbeat quickened. He stopped before her, posture rigid, expression unreadable.

“Why are you here?” she asked softly, her curiosity spilling out before she could stop it.

His answer was immediate, clipped. “To watch. To ensure nothing happens to you—or that anyone misinterprets your presence here.”

His tone was calm, but Harmony felt the wall in his words, thick and deliberate. She searched his face for cracks, for humanity—but his gaze remained guarded, like a soldier who never allowed himself rest.

That night, Harmony found herself drawn toward the edges of the garden. The walls of the Dog Kingdom loomed, tall and suffocating. Her chest ached with the weight of captivity. If I could just slip away… maybe I’d finally see this world for myself. Maybe I’d understand why I’m here.

Her steps were quiet, measured. Each breath threatened to betray her as she crept toward the fence. Fingers brushed the cold stone. Freedom was just beyond reach.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The voice struck like steel.

Harmony froze. Her heart slammed in her chest as she turned. Evander stood behind her, tall, unwavering, his sharp eyes fixed on her. He had not raised his weapon, nor laid a hand on her—but his presence alone was enough to pin her where she stood.

Her breath caught. If he thinks I’m defying him… will he treat me like a prisoner?

“I’m not here to harm anyone,” Harmony said quietly, her voice trembling yet sincere. “I just… want to understand. I don’t belong to only one side. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of this prophecy.”

Evander’s jaw tightened. His eyes, cold and steady, flickered with something unreadable.

“Understand?” he repeated. His voice was calm, but beneath it ran an edge of disbelief. “You don’t understand what that means. The prophecy is not a child’s game. One mistake could cost lives.”

Why does she speak like that? Evander thought, his chest tightening despite himself. So naïve… so foolish. Yet—her words… they sting, as if aimed straight at the cracks I’ve tried to bury.

His memories surfaced—faces lost to war, the heavy silence of nights spent mourning soldiers he couldn’t save. She doesn’t know. She can’t know. If she did… she would never speak of peace so carelessly.

Still, something in her eyes unsettled him. They were steady, unwavering, not filled with the fear he expected, but with resolve.

Harmony’s gaze flicked toward the opening in the wall. She could still run. But instead, she stayed.

“No,” she said firmly, though her hands trembled. “How many more lives will you sacrifice before you see it doesn’t have to be this way? That hatred doesn’t have to be all there is?”

Her words pierced him. Evander clenched his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking. She doesn’t understand. She speaks of ideals as if they were easy. Does she think I’ve never wanted peace? That I’ve never dreamed of an end to bloodshed?

“…You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured, almost bitterly, almost to himself. “Every choice I make, every battle I fight—it is for the survival of my people. I cannot allow you to escape. You’re too important to this kingdom.”

Harmony stepped closer, her eyes searching his. “And what about the others? What about those who will die if only your kingdom takes power?”

Evander’s breath caught. His eyes narrowed, but his heart faltered. Why does she speak as if she’s seen my thoughts? His mind screamed at him to turn away, to shut her out—but his body betrayed him. He couldn’t.

For the first time, his gaze broke. He turned his head slightly, jaw clenched. The shadows of grief flickered across his face before he crushed them back down.

Harmony’s voice softened, but her courage remained. “I don’t see you as my enemy. Even if we’re different, we can learn from each other. We don’t need hatred.”

The words struck him harder than he wanted to admit. His walls trembled. He could feel it—his control slipping, if only for a moment. His lips parted, a single word escaping before he stopped himself.

“Maybe…”

The word vanished into silence. He swallowed it down, sealing his mask back into place.

Harmony bent to pick up a toy left behind in the grass, offering it to him with a small, gentle smile. “I know it isn’t easy for you. And I don’t expect you to change right away. But I want you to know… someone sees you. The real you.”

Evander’s body tensed, but his heart stuttered. Sees me? The thought echoed painfully. He had spent years burying the parts of himself he didn’t dare show anyone—not even his family. Duty demanded it. Strength required it.

And yet this girl, a stranger, dared to look at him as if she could glimpse through the cracks.

His walls held. His face remained cold. But inside, the fortress shook.

The garden grew quiet. The laughter of the children had long since faded, leaving only the soft chirping of insects and the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze.

Harmony still stood before Evander, her eyes unwavering, her hands clasped gently in front of her as if she feared moving too suddenly might shatter the fragile thread holding this moment together.

Evander’s chest rose and fell slowly, too slowly—because his breathing no longer felt like his own. The words she had spoken lingered in his mind, heavy and invasive.

Someone sees you. The real you.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to look away, to pull his gaze from hers before she dragged him any deeper. His boots shifted against the grass as he stepped back.

“You speak as though you understand me,” he said at last, his tone low, almost dangerous. “But you don’t. You can’t. My life, my duty… you could never bear their weight.”

His words cut sharp, but Harmony didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, studying him—not with arrogance, not with pity, but with something far more dangerous to him. Compassion.

“Maybe not,” she admitted softly, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to understand. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop believing there’s more than war and duty waiting for you.”

Evander’s heart lurched, but he masked it instantly, retreating behind the shield of silence he had perfected over the years. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to curl into fists, aching to release the frustration bubbling in his chest.

Why does she insist on speaking like this? Again and again, the same words, the same impossible hope. Doesn’t she realize she’s only making things harder?

He turned sharply, his cloak brushing the grass, his back now to her. “Enough,” he muttered, voice clipped. “You should rest. This kingdom is not a place for dreams.”

Harmony’s lips parted as if to speak again, but the weight in his voice stopped her. She watched his broad back retreat into the shadows, his posture rigid, his steps too heavy to belong to a man untouched by doubt.

And yet—though he tried to bury it—she had seen it. For the briefest instant, when his eyes faltered, when his voice trembled, she had seen the crack in his armor.

She pressed her hands to her chest, her heartbeat loud in the stillness. He wants to believe. He’s just afraid… afraid of what it might cost him.

Evander disappeared beyond the garden arch, swallowed by the dim corridors of the palace. But as he walked, the silence around him felt suffocating. His thoughts churned, her voice echoing in his skull no matter how hard he tried to silence it.

Someone sees you. The real you.

His fists clenched until his gloves creaked. His throat tightened, and a single, unspoken truth clawed at him:

For the first time in years… I wanted her to be right.

He shook his head violently, quickening his pace, as though outrunning the thought could erase it. But deep within, buried beneath layers of duty and discipline, her words had taken root. And no matter how hard he tried to crush them, they pulsed with life.