The night was heavier than usual. A thick veil of clouds smothered the moonlight, casting the castle into muted darkness. The silence was deceptive, carrying undercurrents of unease—like the calm surface of a lake hiding the storm below.
Aelion stood on the balcony of his chambers, the cold breeze pulling at his silken robe. His eyes lingered on the horizon, where the faint outlines of the forest seemed to claw at the night sky. He should have felt relief after the moments he had stolen with Kealen—after the kiss that had sealed the truth neither of them could deny. Instead, unease coiled in his chest like a tightening rope.
The door creaked, and Aelion turned swiftly.
Kealen stepped in, his armor stripped, clad only in a simple tunic, though his presence radiated the same sharpness of steel. His gaze softened as it fell on Aelion.
"You're not resting," Kealen said, voice quiet, carrying both concern and reprimand.
"I couldn't," Aelion admitted, his lips curving into a faint, almost bitter smile. "Sleep feels like a luxury when every shadow hides a dagger."
Kealen crossed the room, his boots silent on the polished stone. "You've been troubled since the council meeting."
Aelion nodded. The council—whispers of rebellion, loyalties shifting like sand. Nobles pretending allegiance but sharpening their knives in secret. And worse, the mention of a traitor within the royal guard.
His eyes met Kealen's. "What if the betrayal lies closer than we thought?"
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Kealen's expression flickered, unreadable, before he answered, "Then we'll uncover it. And whoever dares turn against you will pay."
The intensity in his voice steadied Aelion's wavering heart. He let himself exhale, tension loosening slightly. Kealen was his anchor—the one person he wanted to trust completely. The one person he feared losing the most.
Aelion moved closer, fingertips brushing Kealen's sleeve. "And what if the traitor stands between us? What if trust blinds us both?"
Kealen's jaw tightened. He caught Aelion's hand, pressing it firmly against his chest. "Then let me prove I'll never betray you. My oath, my sword, my life—everything I am belongs to you, Aelion."
The prince's heart stumbled. Words faltered in his throat, replaced by the rush of heat in his veins. For a moment, he allowed himself to lean into that certainty, into the closeness that felt like salvation.
But before the fragile moment could deepen, a knock shattered the air.
Both turned sharply as the door opened. A guard stepped inside—Seren, young and eager-eyed, bowing low.
"My prince," Seren said, breathless. "There's been movement near the eastern gates. Tracks… too many to belong to simple travelers. We suspect an infiltrator force."
Kealen's eyes narrowed. "Did you alert the captain?"
"Yes, Sir. But they've asked for your presence. You know the terrain best."
Kealen's hand dropped from Aelion's, his protector's mask sliding back into place. He bowed slightly. "Stay here. Lock the doors. I'll return once it's secured."
Aelion's lips parted to protest, but Kealen's gaze stopped him—a silent plea, equal parts promise and command. And then he was gone, vanishing into the night like the blade he was born to be.
---
The castle corridors seemed emptier without him. Aelion paced, fingers curling into restless fists. The words Kealen had spoken—everything I am belongs to you—echoed in his mind, blurring into both comfort and torment.
Then… another sound. Soft. Subtle. The faint scrape of metal against stone.
Aelion froze.
The balcony door shuddered. A shadow slipped through—tall, hooded, a dagger glinting faintly in the dark.
An assassin.
Aelion's breath hitched. His hand darted to the table where a jeweled letter opener rested—not much of a weapon, but all he had.
The intruder lunged.
Aelion dodged, the blade grazing his sleeve. Panic surged, but so did a surge of stubborn courage. He swung the letter opener wildly, enough to keep the assassin from closing in.
"Guards!" Aelion shouted, his voice sharp and commanding despite the fear burning his lungs.
But no one came.
The assassin's mask slipped for just a second—revealing a scarred face, eyes burning with hatred. "The throne dies tonight," he hissed.
Before the dagger could strike again, steel clashed.
Kealen burst through the door, sword drawn, his presence like thunder crashing through the storm. His blade met the assassin's with brutal force, the clash ringing through the chamber.
"Stay back!" Kealen barked to Aelion without turning.
Aelion staggered, clutching his weapon tighter, unwilling to leave even though he knew he was a liability.
The fight was swift but fierce—steel flashing, boots scraping, the assassin moving with desperate ferocity. But Kealen was relentless, each strike carrying both skill and fury. With one final swing, he disarmed the intruder, sending the dagger clattering across the stone floor.
The assassin tried to flee, but Kealen slammed him against the wall, blade pressed to his throat.
"Who sent you?" Kealen demanded, voice a growl.
The assassin's lips twisted into a bloody grin. "You'll never stop it. The crown will burn. The prince will bleed. And your loyalty—" he spat, eyes darting to Aelion—"will destroy you both."
Before Kealen could strike again, the assassin bit down hard. Aelion realized too late—poison. His body went limp in Kealen's grasp, collapsing like a puppet cut from its strings.
Kealen cursed, dropping the body, his chest heaving.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Aelion's voice shook. "He was telling the truth… wasn't he? There's more. This is only the beginning."
Kealen turned, his eyes locking with Aelion's, fierce and unyielding. He sheathed his sword, crossing the distance to grip Aelion's shoulders.
"Let them come," he said, voice steady despite the storm in his gaze. "They'll never take you. Not while I breathe."
Aelion's composure cracked. He trembled, not from fear but from the intensity of the moment, the closeness of the man who had saved his life again. "Kealen…"
The name escaped like a prayer.
And in the quiet aftermath of blood and shadows, Aelion did what fear had always kept him from—he closed the distance, pressing his lips against Kealen's in a kiss born of desperation, gratitude, and something deeper that neither could deny.
Kealen froze for the briefest moment—then melted into it, his hands cradling Aelion's face, his kiss fierce and grounding, as if to swear wordlessly that he would never let go.
The world outside still plotted, still raged. But for that stolen heartbeat, there was only them—two souls bound together, standing against the darkness.