*eliana's past/ Kieran abrute affection**

The night stretched on, thick with silence. 

The small room flickered with the dim glow of the candle, its light casting shifting shadows along the wooden walls. Outside, the village was settling into quiet slumber, the distant rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl the only sounds breaking the stillness. 

Eliana sat cross-legged on the floor, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the delicate jade bracelet Amelia had gifted her earlier. 

Kieran watched her, leaning against the wooden bedpost, arms crossed over his chest. His sharp eyes never wavered from her, though his expression remained unreadable. 

She had been quiet since dinner, retreating into herself in a way he hadn't seen before. 

And then, finally, she spoke. 

"I used to be a beggar," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. 

Kieran stilled. 

Eliana let out a quiet breath, her gaze fixed on the floor as if looking at him would make the words harder to say. 

"I don't remember much about my parents," she admitted. "Only… flashes. My mother's voice, soft like silk, humming while she combed my hair. My father's laugh—deep, warm, safe." A bitter smile touched her lips. "I used to think those memories were dreams. Just things my mind made up to comfort me." 

Kieran remained silent, letting her speak at her own pace. 

Her fingers tightened around her wrist as if the memories were something she had to hold onto or risk losing them entirely. 

"I was three when they were killed." 

Kieran exhaled sharply. Three. Barely old enough to understand anything, and yet… she had survived. 

"One night, I woke up to screams. I remember running into the hall, my little legs carrying me toward my parents' room, but the door was already open." She swallowed hard. "I saw them. Lying there. Their blood pooling on the floor. Their faces… frozen in fear." 

Her voice wavered, but she didn't stop. 

"I remember someone grabbing me. A rough hand over my mouth. I bit them—I think. I don't know how, but I escaped. I ran. And I kept running." 

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows across her face. 

"I don't know how long I wandered. Days? Weeks?" She let out a soft laugh, empty of any real humor. "I was just a child. Alone. Hungry. Terrified. I didn't even know my name back then. I was just… another street rat. A nameless, filthy little thing no one wanted to look at." 

Kieran's grip tightened around his forearm. 

He had known hunger before. Had known desperation. But Eliana… she had been a child. A *child* left to rot in the streets. 

"Sometimes I stole food," she continued. "Most of the time, I got caught." She let out a hollow chuckle. "They beat me. Kicked me. Broke my bones." She flexed her fingers as if remembering the pain. "And yet, every time I woke up the next day, the bruises were gone. The wounds had healed. My body refused to stay broken." 

She finally looked up at him, her golden eyes shimmering with something unreadable. "I didn't know I was different. I didn't know that *healing* was a power. To me, it just meant I could take more hits before they left me for dead." 

The room was thick with silence. 

Kieran hadn't moved, hadn't even breathed too deeply. His thoughts warred inside him, tangled and tight. 

Eliana—his Eliana—had lived through a hell most wouldn't have survived. 

And yet, she was *here*. 

A woman who smiled despite the ghosts of her past. A woman who saved lives, even though the world had abandoned her. 

He had always thought of her as *strong*. But now, he realized… 

**She was unbreakable.** 

Eliana let out a shaky breath and offered him a small, weary smile. "That's my story. A little girl who belonged to no one." 

Kieran's jaw clenched. "You belonged to someone." 

Her brows furrowed. "Who?" 

His gaze was fierce, unwavering. "Me." 

Eliana blinked. 

The air shifted between them, heavy with something unspoken. 

Kieran didn't know when it happened—when *she* had become something more than just a healer, more than just an ally. 

But now, as he looked at her, every piece of his carefully built armor felt like it was cracking. 

She wasn't just someone to protect. 

She was **his** to protect. 

And that realization shook him more than he cared to admit. 

Eliana swallowed, looking away. "You're just saying that." 

"I'm not." 

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to argue, but the weight in his voice stopped her. 

She didn't know what to say. 

So instead, she reached for the candle, snuffing out the flame. 

Darkness swallowed the room. 

But even in the pitch black, she could still *feel* him watching her.