Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 420. You Lied to Me
She walked slowly to the edge of the tub and knelt again, her voice dropping to a hush, soft like the flickering shadows on the marble.
"You lied to me."
Angel tensed.
She didn't sound angry. Just… sad.
"Why?" she said. "You went to the mountain. Alone. And you failed. And now you're ashamed."
Angel's jaw clenched.
He hated how well she knew him.
"Just say the reason," she whispered. "You don't have to protect me. Not from your past. Not from this."
"I'm not protecting you," he said quietly. "I'm protecting me from seeing you look at me differently."
She looked at him for a long moment, then reached out—slow and deliberate—and touched the side of his neck. Not his cheek. Not his heart. But the place where the pulse beat most vulnerably beneath skin and bone.
"I won't," she said. "No matter what you find at the top of that mountain."
Angel didn't reply.
But the look in his eyes shifted, just a little. Like a crack in the armor he wore too tightly for too long. Not much—but enough. Enough to let her in. Just a sliver.
Rose watched him, unmoving, the soft folds of her robe pooling around her ankles like moonlight wrapped in silk. Her eyes were steady, unflinching. The kind of gaze that made even a king feel seen—not judged, not challenged… just seen.
He exhaled slowly. Shoulders dropped. Hands loosened at his sides.
"Erebus…" he began, voice low and raw, "is dangerous. I might not make it out unharmed next time."
Rose's lips parted slightly, but he kept going.
"That's why it's simpler… cleaner… for me to go alone." His fingers flexed at his side. Not nervous. Not afraid. Just… trying to find words that didn't exist yet.
She stayed silent, though he could feel the air between them shifting. Tightening.
"I at least want to know what's in there before I bring you," he continued, finally lifting his head to meet her eyes. "The monsters. The terrain. The way the mountain rejects everything. I don't want to walk blind with you at my side."
His voice cracked just slightly. "No man wants to bring his loved one to a place like that. Especially not me."
That did it.
The crack widened.
Rose's expression didn't change, but her body did. Her weight shifted, a slow inhale filled her chest, and then… a huff. Dry. Disbelieving. Softened with something like reluctant affection.
"…That makes sense," she muttered, folding her arms. "But it doesn't mean I approve."
Angel smiled faintly. The kind of tired smile that didn't reach the eyes but tried to.
"I know you won't."
She stepped closer. Not to fight. Not to argue. Just to be near. Her fingers brushed against his arm, trailing down slowly to his dirt-stained glove.
"You should've at least warned me," she said softly.
"I didn't want you to stop me."
"I would've tried."
"I know."
They stood like that for a beat. The silence between them wasn't cold. It wasn't even heavy. It was the kind of silence that knew how to breathe.
Then, without another word, she reached for the front clasp of his cloak. Her fingers worked silently, gently, until the fabric slid from his shoulders with a whisper. She draped it over a chair, eyeing the streaks of dried soil, the torn edges, the faint silver burn where dark power had flared too close.
"You look like a cursed hunter who forgot how laundry works," she said lightly.
Angel huffed a laugh. "Better than looking like a runaway king."
"Mm. That's debatable."
She gestured toward the side of the tub where a folded towel rested neatly.
"I'll help you," she said, voice calm. "You're half mud."
Angel had already stepped into the water moments ago, sinking into the heat with a tired groan. Steam curled around his shoulders, the faint scent of jasmine and cold silver lingering in the air. He leaned back against the marble edge, eyes half-lidded.
He gave her a look—dry, amused. "Help me, huh? I'm already naked."
Rose smirked faintly, dipping the cloth into the bathwater. "I know. I'm referring to bathing you."
Angel let out a tired breath, half amusement, half exasperation. "I'm not a baby."
"No," she said simply, trailing the cloth through the water, "but I'll still do it."
Then, without waiting for permission, she moved behind him, hands gentle as she brushed along the back of his neck. The water rippled softly with every shift of her touch. Her fingers were warm, steady—like she wasn't just cleaning him, but grounding him.
Note: In case you want to give me gift or, please send to this story
>Read the original on
>Read 10 chapter ahead of DM + 2 weekly update
My Pat*reo*n-page: pat*reon.*com/nanakawaichan
(erase the *)
My ko-fi page: ko-fi.*com/nanakawaichan
My Discord: discord.gg/mSRHyMVhnG