A Meeting Beyond Time
The kingdom of Inazuma basked in the late afternoon glow, its emerald hills rolling gently into the horizon like folds of silk. Wisps of white clouds drifted lazily across a pale blue sky, and the scent of blooming jasmine floated on the breeze. Beyond the bustling towns and mist-covered forests, nestled at the heart of the realm, stood the palace — a towering testament to discipline, tradition, and elegance.
But behind its fortified walls and gold-laced banners, a quieter world existed — untouched, secret, and wild.
In a secluded corner of the royal grounds, hidden behind ivy-draped stone walls and whispering bamboo, lay a forgotten garden. It was overgrown with tangled vines and stubborn wildflowers, their petals drooping but defiant, clinging to life in a place no longer tended. The air was thick with the sweet, nostalgic scent of roses left to wither on the vine.
On a weathered stone bench, half-swallowed by moss and shadows, sat the queen of this kingdom.
Her posture was poised, yet tired, her shoulders gently sloping beneath the many layers of her ceremonial dress. The rich crimson fabric of her robes shimmered softly where sunlight found it, hanging loose and unlaced at her collarbone, baring the curve of her pale neck. A whisper of her silk underlayer clung to her chest, shifting with each slow breath. Her hair — jet black, impossibly smooth — swept into a neat bun, secured delicately to the side with a carved rose hairpin, its crimson petals catching the light. She sat in stillness, save for the subtle motion of her fingers brushing her lap, and her lips parting as she released a long, tired sigh.
Small birds flitted from flower to flower. While the queen watched them without really seeing, her dark eyes — deep and glistening like black pearls — heavy with thoughts she could never say aloud.
She was Queen Hanika of Inazuma, bound in name to a king she never loved, mother to daughters who no longer needed her, and sovereign of a land that revered her — but never truly knew her.
She had been trained to wear a mask since girlhood. Taught to smile in silence, to command with grace, and to sacrifice whimsy for duty. And so, she had — for decades. Now, not yet fully old, she was still achingly young in body, her skin untouched by time, radiant and smooth like porcelain. Younger women envied her; older ones called her blessed. But under her piercing gaze and her sharp expression no one knew that underneath was just a girl who had never forgotten the fairy tales whispered to her in childhood — stories of magic, distant lands, and grand adventures. She had always longed to wander, to see other realms beyond the veil of duty. And yet, here she was: strict, poised, and — according to the whispers of a few bold maids — far too uptight.
But despite her troubles, the faint wind carried on, stirring her robes and the leaves at her wooden sandals dangling by her feet.
Then — a sudden thud broke the sound of peace.
It came from just beyond the high patch of hydrangeas that blocked the garden’s far side. Loud enough to be unmistakable. Too heavy to be an animal.
Hanika stood at once, her heart leaping with a blend of instinct and thrill. Her robes rustled against the grass as she silently approached the noise, feet light but fearless.
She pushed past the curtain of flowering leaves — and froze.
There, sprawled among the blossoms and half-crushed ferns, was a man.
He groaned softly, one hand pressed to his temple as he tried to sit up. His clothes were strange — not like the fine silks or rough peasant cloth of her people. His tunic clung to his frame in a way that revealed lean muscle, and his trousers were dyed a greyish blue she’d never seen in fabric before. But it wasn’t the garb that struck her motionless.
It was his face.
Unfamiliar. Arresting. Foreign.
His skin was darker than hers, almost sun-kissed. His jaw was strong and clean-shaven, his features unnaturally flawless — untouched by wind or hardship. But it was his hair, a tousled silver blond, that shimmered under the filtered light, and his eyes — sharp and piercing red — blinked slowly in confusion, glowing against the lush green like embers in shadow. It was a noble face, perhaps even regal, though she knew of no dynasty that bore such features.
He looked something like out a fairy tale to her, at least — a vision from a forbidden dream.
Hanika didn’t move. She only watched, the hem of her robe fluttering against her ankles, her lips slightly parted. She should have screamed. Called the guards. Fled. Since she was alone without help, in a corner of a secluded garden.
But she didn’t.
Instead, something in her stirred — something wild, something buried.
She took a step forward, heart fluttering like the wings of the birds she had just moments ago ignored.
Who was this man? And how had he come to fall — quite literally — into her secret garden from nowhere?
The queen of Inazuma stared at the stranger, and for the first time in years, she felt the edges of her reality bend — not just from his presence, but from the words he muttered next:
“Where the hell am I? Did the portal really work?”
Something magical had finally answered her silent, wistful wish.
“Greetings,” she blurted out before she could stop herself, the word escaping like a reflex. She cursed under her breath the moment it left her lips.
The man stood up fully now, brushing his hands over his clothes as he looked around in astonishment. “Woah this is real… and who are you?”
Hanika blinked, taken slightly aback by his crude and casual speech. Tilting her head, she replied coolly, “Who are you, and what are you doing in my garden?”
“No way...” he muttered, eyes gleaming like a boy who’d stumbled into a dream. A grin spread across his face. “This can’t be real!”
His words held doubt, but his expression brimmed with wonder, scanning all the scenery around him.
Hanika’s brow arched in measured suspicion. “It is real. You are in the royal palace of the great kingdom of Inazuma, and are currently speaking with its queen. Now, I ask you again — what is your name, and what is your purpose for being here, stranger?”
Startled, the man straightened his back, quickly composing himself. He cleared his throat twice and gave a stiff, almost comical bow.
“Right. My bad..., high queen — Highness... I am—” he paused, as if searching for a fitting name. “I am Zeldor! And I am from a very far away land.”
He lifted his gaze — only to find his eyes linger a moment too long on the disheveled neckline of her gown. Hanika noticed. Her hand moved swiftly to adjust the folds of her robe.
“Yes, right... I was just relaxing and—” she mumbled to herself, before turning her back with practiced grace. “Come. Let us talk here...”
She gestured toward one of the stone benches beneath a flowering arch.
“Please, make yourself comfortable, Zeldor from a very far away land,” she said almost sarcastically as she stood herself across from him, maintaining a safe distance. Her posture regal and unmoving, her eyes locked firmly on his.
She studied him. Not just the clothes, the face, the hair — but the feeling. Something about him tugged at her sense of order. He was simply out of place.
“You mentioned something about a portal working,” she said, voice calm but sharp. Her hands elegantly crossed. “What was that about?”
She narrowed her eyes, her expression suddenly all steel.
“And don’t even think of lying to me. I did not mishear you, nor do I believe you spoke in jest. Tell me the truth — and you might not end up in a dungeon by the end of this beautiful day.”
She knew how absurd it sounded, questioning strangers about magical portals — but her instincts were sharp, trained from youth and honed by the weight of the crown. And if there was one thing the Iron Queen Hanika trusted, it was her intuition.
“Well...” Zeldor stammered, forcing a chuckle as Hanika stared at him, her brow creased in a frown that could freeze any man in place.
“Ah fine! Okay, so the thing is... I fell here. From the sky. From a portal...”
Hanika’s expression softened slightly, though her eyes remained fixed on him, demanding more.
Zeldor continued with a sigh, “A portal that lets me travel through time,” he said, his head tilting side to side in a guilty sway, “but I swear, I mean you no harm, Queen... Your Highness!”
Hanika closed her eyes for a moment, weighing his thoughts in silence. Then, with a slow exhale, she replied, “Alright. I believe you.”
“Wait — you actually believe me? That easily? I would’ve expected any sane person to toss me in an asylum by now... but, hey, good for me?” Zeldor scratched his head chuckling, genuinely confused.
Hanika opened her eyes and studied him with an unreadable smile. “No sane person would tell a story that might land them in an asylum either,” she replied, her tone laced with quiet amusement.
“So tell me, Zeldor,” she said as her gently closed the distance between them, “why do you seem more bewildered than I am about this time travel? Is it perhaps your first trip?”
Zeldor, not knowing what to do, nodded a simple “Yes.”
“Wow...” Hanika whispered to herself, “What year are you from? And what is it like in the future? How is Inazuma in your time? Do we have other things, like flying machines? Or maybe something that can change the weather — make it rain on command? or maybe even a puppet of sorts that moves without a puppeteer and serves your every need, but it’s fine to be selfish because it’s not human and you can make any demand...”
Her questions spilled out, one after the other, her mask of regal detachment slipping with each word. The curiosity she had long hidden beneath years of rule now surged forward — childish, hungry, and unfiltered.
Zeldor blinked, then stammered before answering her questions. “That last part was oddly specific,” he muttered under his breath. “But yeah — seven hundred years into the future from now, the time I am from, we have machines that let us fly through the clouds and even beyond the skies. We can also change the weather to some extent, and make it rain as well. But no... no puppet that moves on its own. Not yet in my time anyways.”
Hanika’s cheeks tinged with color, and she glanced away. “I simply had a thought,” she said, a bit flustered, “when I saw this master puppeteer who came to entertain the court once.”
But she quickly regained her composure. “So, tell me more. How did the people of the future even manage to travel through time? And what of Inazuma? What is it like in your time?”
Zeldor’s expression soured. The grin that had lingered on his lips faded.
“Inazuma... is a kingdom of the past in my time,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t exist anymore — no more than all the other kingdoms that came before and after it.”
Hanika’s face fell. A somber sigh escaped her lips as she looked down at her hands.
“Heh… So, all this time it’s been for nothing then...”
Silence settled like mist between them for a moment.
Until Zeldor stood up and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
“Don’t be sad,” he said softly. “History is the witness of everything. Every kingdom must fall for the next one to rise. But that doesn’t mean the old one’s existence was for nothing, because without it — without Inazuma — the future that I am from wouldn’t exist, not the way it does now.”
She knew it was foolish — childish, even — to mourn things that hadn’t yet come to pass. Still, the weight had pressed against her heart. So, she exhaled, shook her head, and with it, scattered the heaviness in her chest. Then she looked up — only to find Zeldor’s face unexpectedly close to hers.
Her breath caught. Her body tensed.
And yet... she didn’t move.
She gazed into his eyes — deep, impossibly red, like polished rubies soaked in sunlight. She felt something stir in her chest — a slight pull, inching her closer to this foreign man. Her lips parted just a little to meet his.
Her heart began to beat faster — a quiet drum echoing beneath her ribs — as Zeldor’s warm breath edged closer to her face. Just a little more, and she would commit a sin, breaking the chains that had held her hostage for a lifetime, choosing — for once — to do something she wanted for herself and no one else.
But then, as if a rope had yanked her back into her role, she straightened with rigid formality and turned away, her flustered cheeks’ warmth too intense to ignore.
Still, as if trying to delay the inevitable, she took a few steps ahead, putting some distance between them. She had felt something wrong inside her soon as she saw him for the first time.
“Thank you... for cheering me up,” she said quickly, her voice a little unsteady. “Since you’ve traveled through time — a magical feat — perhaps you should experience all my kingdom has to offer, instead of sitting here alone with me... Surely you did not travel here to spend your time with an old woman from a bygone age.”
Zeldor, still flustered himself, didn’t miss a beat. He leaned closer and whispered with a teasing grin, “On the other hand, I would be lucky if I get to spend more time alone with a beautiful woman like you…”
The words struck like a spell. Hanika’s heart gave a traitorous flutter — a sensation she thought long forgotten.
She tried to ignore his words and stepped forward. “My kingdom may be seven hundred years in the past,” she called over her shoulder, “but I’m confident its charm is still captivating.”
But unlike her, Zeldor had no inhibitions to stop him from going after something he wanted. “We may have just met,” he said, his hand slithering onto her waist, turning her around. “But you should know — I don’t like to be ignored.”
He brought his face closer to hers, slow and deliberate, his intent to taste her lips written in his eyes.
“Stop... you can’t do this,” Hanika tried to protest, but the words came out more like a breathless murmur than a command — her voice laced with something far more seductive than stern.
Her long lashes fluttered as if resisting her own betrayal, and before she could hold onto the farce much longer, her lips met his — willingly, inevitably.
Her bangles clinked softly as her arm moved, not wasting another second, her fingers finding his hair and pulling him in, closer. The final thread of resistance snapped. For once, Hanika allowed herself to give in — to feel, to want, to take. Finally able to satiate the hunger that had dragged her to the edge of madness.
