Chapter 11: Red Carpet, Real Battle

The world premiere of Aetheria's Echo was Hollywood spectacle at its finest—a crimson carpet stretching for blocks, towering spotlights cutting through the Los Angeles twilight, and thousands of screaming fans pressed against barricades hoping for a glimpse of their favorite stars. The entire façade of the Chinese Theatre had been transformed into a mystical forest, complete with projected auroras dancing across the walls in homage to the film's magical themes.

Elara stood in the back of her limousine, hands trembling as her stylist made final adjustments to her gown—a stunning creation of midnight blue silk that seemed to shimmer with its own inner light. She looked like a princess from the very fantasy epic they were celebrating, but inside she felt like she was preparing for battle.

"Breathe," her stylist murmured, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the dress's flowing train. "You look absolutely radiant."

Through the tinted windows, Elara could see the chaos of the red carpet—reporters jostling for position, photographers with lenses the size of bazookas, and the endless flash of cameras that would capture every micro-expression for the world to analyze. Somewhere in that crowd of media were the entertainment reporters who'd been questioning their relationship, the gossip bloggers hungry for any sign of cracks in their fairy tale.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Liam: Almost there. You ready for this?

She typed back quickly: As ready as I'll ever be. See you on the other side.

But as her limousine pulled up to the red carpet's starting point, Elara realized that no amount of preparation could have readied her for what was about to unfold.

---

The roar of the crowd was deafening as she stepped out of the car, her dress pooling around her like liquid starlight. Camera flashes exploded in a blinding symphony, and she raised her hand in a practiced wave, her smile automatic and dazzling.

"Elara! Over here!"

"Look this way!"

"Where's Liam?"

The questions came from all directions, but she maintained her composure, moving gracefully along the designated path while her security team kept the photographers at a manageable distance. This was the part of fame she'd never quite gotten used to—the way hundreds of strangers could make her feel simultaneously powerful and utterly exposed.

She was halfway through her solo walk when she spotted him. Liam emerged from his own limousine like something out of a dream, devastating in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo that emphasized his tall, lean frame. His dark hair was styled with casual precision, and when he spotted her through the crowd, his face lit up with a smile that made her heart skip despite everything they were facing.

The crowd's reaction was immediate and electric. The screaming intensified, camera flashes reached a fever pitch, and she could hear fans chanting "Starfire! Starfire!" as Liam made his way toward her.

"You look incredible," he murmured as he reached her side, his hand finding the small of her back in a gesture that had become second nature over the months of their arrangement.

"So do you," she replied, and meant it. Despite all the complications and contracts and looming threats from anonymous bloggers, there was still something undeniably magical about this moment—the two of them, dressed like royalty, stepping into their fairy tale one last time.

"Ready to sell the dream?" he asked quietly, his smile never wavering for the cameras.

"Always," she replied, though her voice caught slightly on the word.

They moved down the red carpet together, stopping at each designated photo area with practiced precision. Liam's arm around her waist, her hand resting on his chest, both of them gazing into each other's eyes with what looked like pure adoration. The photographers went wild, shouting directions and encouragement.

"Beautiful! Perfect! Now kiss her!"

"Look at each other like you're in love!"

"Liam, dip her!"

They complied with every request, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization after months of practice. But Elara was hyperaware of how different it felt now—how his touch sent electricity through her, how his smile made her pulse quicken, how looking into his eyes felt less like performance and more like falling.

"This is surreal," she whispered during a brief pause between photo ops.

"Which part? The thousand cameras or the fact that we're not entirely acting anymore?"

Before she could respond, they were ushered toward the interview area, where entertainment reporters waited with microphones and probing questions.

"Elara! Liam! Congratulations on the film," called out a reporter from Entertainment Tonight. "You two look absolutely smitten tonight. How does it feel to be premiering your first film as a couple?"

"It's like a dream come true," Elara replied smoothly. "Getting to work with someone you love, and then sharing that with the world... it doesn't get much better than this."

"And Liam, there have been some rumors lately about your relationship. Care to address them?"

Elara felt Liam's arm tighten almost imperceptibly around her waist. This was the moment they'd been dreading—the first direct challenge to their narrative at such a public venue.

"You know how Hollywood loves its gossip," Liam replied with easy charm. "But actions speak louder than rumors, and I think anyone who looks at us can see how we feel about each other."

As if to prove his point, he turned to look at Elara with such genuine tenderness that she felt her breath catch. The cameras captured every second of the exchange, and she could practically hear the collective "aww" from fans watching the livestream.

They moved through several more interviews, each one testing their ability to maintain the illusion while dodging increasingly pointed questions about their relationship's authenticity. But they were professionals, and they had months of practice. By the time they reached the final interview station, Elara was feeling cautiously optimistic that they'd weathered the storm.

That's when she saw him.

Marcus Blackwood stood at the edge of the red carpet, distinguished and imposing in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his salt-and-pepper hair gleaming under the lights. Liam's father—the legendary director whose shadow had loomed over every conversation about his son's career—had arrived fashionably late and was already drawing reporters like moths to a flame.

She felt Liam go rigid beside her, his practiced smile faltering for just a moment before snapping back into place.

"I didn't know he was coming," he murmured, his voice tight with tension.

"Maybe it's a good thing," she whispered back. "Family support looks great for the cameras."

But as Marcus Blackwood approached them with his characteristic predatory smile, Elara realized this wasn't going to be a heartwarming family reunion.

"Liam," Marcus said, his voice carrying that distinctive tone of authority that had commanded respect in Hollywood for three decades. "Quite a turnout for your little fantasy film."

The word "little" was delivered with just enough condescension to sting, but Liam maintained his composure. "Dad. I didn't realize you were planning to attend."

"Wouldn't miss my son's big premiere," Marcus replied, but his eyes were already scanning the crowd of reporters who were eagerly capturing every word. "Though I have to say, all this publicity circus is a bit much, don't you think? Makes one wonder if the film can stand on its own merits."

Elara felt heat rise in her cheeks. The comment was clearly designed to undermine both the film and their relationship in one calculated blow, delivered with the kind of plausible deniability that Marcus Blackwood had perfected over decades in Hollywood.

"The film speaks for itself," Liam replied evenly, but Elara could see the hurt flickering behind his eyes.

"Does it? Or does it need all this manufactured romance to generate buzz?" Marcus's smile was sharp as a blade. "Though I suppose that's the business these days. Sell the sizzle since you can't always trust the steak."

The insult hung in the air like poison, and Elara watched Liam's carefully constructed composure begin to crack. This was his worst nightmare—being publicly diminished by his father in front of the entire entertainment industry, reduced to nothing more than a marketing gimmick.

But before Liam could respond, before he could retreat into the defensive shell she'd seen him wear whenever his father's legacy came up, Elara stepped forward.

"With respect, Mr. Blackwood," she said, her voice carrying clearly over the ambient noise of the red carpet, "I think you're underestimating both your son's talent and the film's quality."

Marcus turned his attention to her, his eyebrows raised in amused surprise. "Oh?"

"Liam's performance in this film is extraordinary. Layered, nuanced, completely committed. And our relationship—whatever you might think of the publicity around it—has nothing to do with the quality of his work." She moved closer to Liam, her hand finding his with deliberate intention. "He's not riding anyone's coattails. He's earned every bit of recognition he's received."

The cameras were going wild, capturing every second of the unexpected confrontation. Marcus Blackwood's expression shifted from amusement to something more calculating as he realized he'd miscalculated the dynamics at play.

"How... protective of you," he said finally.

"That's what you do for people you love," Elara replied, her voice steady and clear. "You defend them. You support them. You see their worth even when they can't see it themselves."

She felt Liam's hand tighten in hers, and when she glanced at him, the look in his eyes took her breath away. It was gratitude and amazement and something deeper—recognition, maybe, that what she'd just done had nothing to do with contracts or publicity and everything to do with genuine feeling.

"Well," Marcus said, his smile becoming more forced, "how fortunate for Liam to have found such a... dedicated scene partner."

The word "scene" was delivered with just enough emphasis to suggest he saw their entire relationship as performance, but Elara didn't flinch.

"The most dedicated," she agreed. "On screen and off."

As Marcus moved away to work the crowd of reporters, Liam turned to face her fully, his hands coming up to frame her face with gentle reverence.

"Thank you," he whispered, and the words carried the weight of years of insecurity and self-doubt.

"Always," she replied, and then he was kissing her—not for the cameras, not for the screaming fans, but for her, because in that moment she had been exactly what he needed her to be.

The kiss was soft and grateful and utterly real, and as camera flashes exploded around them like fireworks, Elara realized that somewhere in the middle of defending him, she had crossed the final line between performance and truth.

They were no longer playing characters in love.

They were simply in love, period.

And tomorrow, when the photos hit every entertainment outlet in the world, everyone would see exactly what that looked like.