METRO 1497 - Ch 20 THE PROPOSAL

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Ch 20 THE PROPOSAL

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Veronica steps out from the den and into the winter‑bitten streets. The village is still alive—vendors shouting, carts rattling, soldiers stomping past with frost steaming from their cloaks. Lanterns swinging overhead, casting gold halos across the snow‑packed stone.

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She moves through the crowd like a blade through cloth—purposeful, elegant, untouchable. People part for her without realizing why. Her heels click against the cobblestone, echoing between the timbered houses and the towering shapes of Theron’s Lodge rising above the city like a fortress of old power.

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By the time she reaches the lodge steps, the archer at the door straightens and lets her pass without a word.

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Inside, lanterns flicker along the stairwell, shadows dance like spirals. A servant in a teal mask and matching robes bows deeply as she ascends, but Veronica ignores him, her mind is elsewhere.

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Something is wrong.

She feels it before she sees it.

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At the top of the stairs. She sees a man glowing orange.

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It's Traeven.

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Veronica stops, mouth slightly open.

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She's frozen.

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Traeven stands with his back to the center of the hall, wearing a red tank top, muscles taut, skin glowing with heat. He lifts a crystal royal cup, downs the red juice in one swallow, and smashes it against the floor. The shards scatter like ice.

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He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

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He senses her.

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Veronica hesitates.

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Somethings off.

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Something powerful.

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Traeven doesn’t turn.

He only smiles—slow, dangerous—and hooks his thumbs under his suspenders, stretching them as he looks down at the floor.

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His aura glows citrusy, pulsing like embers.

His eyes burn the same color, swirling with red and yellow beneath the surface.

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Veronica steps toward him as if approaching a rare, unpredictable animal.

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Traeven:

“How are you?”

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Veronica:

“Whats gotten into you!?”

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Traeven:

“You don’t want to know…”

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She studies him—his posture, his glow, the strange confidence radiating from him.

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Veronica:

“Where have you been?”

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He lifts his eyes.

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Traeven:

“How about you?”

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A beat.

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Traeven:(looks a little deeper)

“Were you looking for me?”

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Veronica:(scrunches face)

“No.”

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Traeven:(smiles, uncaring)

“Then why ask?”

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She turns away.

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Veronica:

“Nevermind.”

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His hand shoots out—fast, precise.

He grabs her wrist.

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Veronica gasps, shocked, anger flaring—but he pulls her close immediately, one hand sliding firmly around her waist. Their faces inches apart.

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For a moment, Veronica’s melts,

She sees his eyes swirl—red, yellow, orange—like molten metal.

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Then he releases her.

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Traeven shakes off something, eyes closed looking down.

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Traeven:(voice different, uncontrolled)

“You’re so beautiful, Veronica…”

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She steps back, adjusting her dress, trying to regain control.

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Veronica:(concerned, curious)

“What?”

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Traeven:(relaxed)

“I have news from the High Council.”

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Her head snaps up.

She steps close, almost nose‑to‑nose.

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Veronica:(whispers)

“No you don’t.”

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He smiles, turning away, savoring the power shift.

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Traeven:

“Yes… I do. When are you going to start believing in me?”

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She stares into his glowing eyes.

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Traeven: (confident)

“Come here.”

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He takes her hand.

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She lets him.

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Curiosity.

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Temptation.

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Something else.

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He leans in, eyes locked on hers, voice dropping to a whisper.

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Traeven:

“I just want to kiss you…”

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He goes for it.

They connect, kissing softly.

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Veronica snaps away abruptly, shredding her heels in the carpet down the hall.

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Traeven laughs softly.

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The laugh unsettles her, almost terrifying her.

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