The palace air was heavy that night, almost suffocating, as though the very walls sensed the storm brewing within. Aelion sat at his writing desk, papers scattered before him—documents of treaties, demands from the Council, and requests from noble houses. But his eyes lingered not on ink and parchment. His thoughts were far from politics, drawn instead to the image of Kealen standing by the balcony earlier that evening, moonlight kissing his sharp features, loyalty etched in every line of his stance.
Aelion's hand trembled slightly as he set down his quill. Since their confession, since that fevered kiss that had left him reeling, nothing felt the same. The bond between them grew stronger with each passing day, yet so did the danger. Whispers had begun—servants who lingered too long in hallways, guards who cast curious glances. A prince and his bodyguard—they were too close, too inseparable, and the world loved to tear apart what it did not understand.
The door creaked open softly. Kealen stepped in, his dark hair damp with sweat, armor loosened after hours of training with the night guard. His presence filled the chamber with an ease Aelion could not explain.
"You should rest," Aelion said, voice quieter than he intended.
Kealen arched a brow, setting his sword carefully against the wall. "I could say the same for you. You've been locked in here since sunset. Did the Council send you another storm of complaints?"
Aelion gave a humorless laugh. "They never stop. Every letter is a demand, a reminder that I am not free. That I belong not to myself, but to the throne."
Kealen walked closer, each step steady, deliberate. His hand brushed against Aelion's shoulder—a touch meant to comfort, but it sent a shiver down Aelion's spine. "You belong to yourself, Aelion," Kealen murmured. "Don't let them take that away from you."
For a heartbeat, the room was silent except for the crackling of the fireplace. Aelion turned, meeting Kealen's eyes—those storm-grey depths that had always watched him, guarded him, but now burned with something more. Something dangerous.
Before Aelion could speak, a knock shattered the moment.
Kealen's hand fell away instantly. "Enter," he called, stepping back with the perfect composure of a bodyguard.
A servant hurried in, bowing deeply. "Your Highness, urgent news. A messenger arrived from the western border. There was an ambush. The Marovian kingdom claims we broke the peace treaty."
Aelion stiffened. "That's impossible. I signed the treaty myself."
The servant lowered his gaze. "They demand your presence in council at dawn."
When the door closed, Kealen's jaw tightened. "It's a setup. Someone wants to paint you as a liar."
Aelion stood, pacing. "If Marovia believes we betrayed them, they'll declare war. And the Council—"
"They'll turn against you," Kealen finished grimly.
The weight of it pressed down on Aelion's chest. Betrayal. Lies. And somewhere in the shadows, a hand pulling the strings. He thought of the Council members who often eyed him with disdain, of nobles who whispered that a young prince was too soft, too distracted. Too in love with his guard.
Aelion stopped pacing and looked at Kealen. "You think this is about us, don't you?"
Kealen hesitated. His silence was answer enough.
"They know," Aelion whispered. His throat went dry. "And they're using it against me."
Kealen crossed the room in two strides, seizing Aelion's wrist, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Then let them try. I swore to protect you, Aelion, with my life if I must. They can threaten war, they can spread poison, but they will not take you from me."
The ferocity in Kealen's voice left Aelion breathless. For a moment, he forgot the looming war, the lies, the Council's shadow. There was only Kealen, fire and steel wrapped in a man who dared to defy the world.
Aelion leaned forward, resting his forehead against Kealen's. "You make it sound so simple."
Kealen's lips brushed against his ear, his words low, unyielding. "It is simple. You are mine to protect. Always."
Aelion closed his eyes. He wanted to believe it. But deep within, he knew the storm was only beginning.
---
The Council at Dawn
The council chamber was suffocating with tension. Lords and advisors sat in semicircles, their robes heavy, their eyes sharper than blades. Aelion stood at the center, every gaze drilling into him.
"The Marovian envoy demands explanation," Lord Dareth thundered, his voice echoing. "Your Highness, they claim our soldiers crossed their borders, torching villages."
"That is false," Aelion replied firmly. "Our forces have not moved beyond the river. Someone has staged this attack."
"Convenient words," another lord sneered. "But Marovia has witnesses. Signed testimonies."
Kealen, stationed behind Aelion, scanned the room with calculated calm. He could feel it—the twisting of truths, the tightening noose.
"Enough," Aelion said sharply. His voice carried through the chamber, strong despite the weight pressing on him. "If Marovia demands proof, I will give it. I will ride to the border myself, investigate these claims with my own eyes."
The chamber erupted in protests.
"You cannot risk yourself!"
"It is reckless—foolish!"
"The kingdom needs its prince, not a reckless boy chasing shadows!"
Aelion's jaw clenched, but he stood tall. "The kingdom needs truth. And I will find it."
Kealen's eyes flickered with pride, but also fear. He knew what this meant—danger, ambush, traps waiting in the shadows.
When the council finally adjourned, Kealen followed Aelion into the corridor.
"You can't go alone," Kealen said immediately.
Aelion turned, his eyes burning. "Then come with me. If the Council won't protect me, if the truth is buried under their lies, then I will uncover it myself—with you by my side."
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken promises. Kealen inclined his head, a silent vow. "Always."
---
Nightfall Decisions
Later that night, Aelion sat by the window, staring at the stars. The palace was quiet, but his thoughts were not. Kealen entered silently, as though he had been waiting for the right moment.
"You're thinking too much again," Kealen said softly.
Aelion smiled faintly. "Would you rather I didn't think at all?"
Kealen leaned against the window frame, his presence grounding. "I'd rather you trust that not every battle must be fought alone."
Their eyes locked, and for a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to matter.
Aelion reached out, fingers brushing against Kealen's hand. "Tomorrow, we ride into danger. I don't know what awaits us there. But tonight…" His voice faltered, heavy with everything he wanted to say but couldn't.
Kealen understood. His hand closed around Aelion's, firm and steady. "Tonight, you're mine."
Their lips met—slow, tender at first, then deeper, hungrier, as though they were both starving for something only the other could give. It wasn't reckless like before; it was desperate, aching, a promise forged in shadows and fire.
When they finally broke apart, Aelion rested against Kealen's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "Whatever happens tomorrow, don't let go."
Kealen pressed a kiss to his hair, whispering like an oath. "Never."