The following morning brought with it a hush, the kind that seemed to stretch across the sky like a held breath. For Lucien, it was a strange sense of calm—one that only existed between storms. He stood again on the terrace where he had first begun to question the role fate had cast him in. Only this time, his heart didn't beat with panic. It beat with something quieter. Something steadier.
Hope.
The memory of Eiran's hand in his still lingered, as vivid as a scar. That simple, unspoken promise had wrapped around his ribs like armor. The prince—his enemy, his would-be executioner in another life—had offered trust. And Lucien had taken it.
But trust was fragile.
And Lucien knew better than anyone how easily it could break.
He turned as Garrick entered, carrying a rolled-up parchment. "A message from the southern border, my lord."
Lucien took it, unrolling the seal. His eyes scanned quickly, and he felt his chest tighten. Another raid. More loss. The southern territories were unraveling. If this continued, they'd be drawn into war regardless of his peace efforts.
He folded the letter slowly.
He would need Eiran's help. Again.
---
Eiran was already in the training yard, sparring with two knights at once, sweat glistening on his brow, blade slicing through air with precision. Lucien watched from the edge of the colonnade, taking in the strength and elegance with which Eiran moved.
But more than that, he looked for the man beneath the armor.
There was determination, yes, but there was something else in Eiran's eyes today. Tension. Worry.
Lucien approached only when the spar ended. The knights bowed and retreated, leaving Eiran to sheathe his sword.
"Your Grace," Lucien greeted.
"Duke Ravencroft," Eiran replied, tone lighter than expected. "You came to test my blade?"
"I'd rather test your thoughts," Lucien said, holding up the letter. "Another attack. Southern border."
Eiran's humor vanished. "How bad?"
"Three villages burned. The Baron of Elareth believes it's a rebel faction, but... I suspect otherwise."
Eiran frowned, crossing his arms. "Sabotage?"
Lucien nodded. "Someone wants this peace to fail."
"And you want me to ride with you."
Lucien hesitated. "Yes."
Eiran studied him. "Why?"
"Because I trust you," Lucien said simply. "And because the people trust you. If we go together, maybe we can root this out before it becomes something bigger."
Eiran's gaze didn't falter. "And if it is war?"
Lucien exhaled. "Then we fight. But only when we must."
Eiran nodded, his expression softening. "Then I ride with you."
---
Their departure was quiet, the kind of journey a king might disguise as inspection rather than defense. Eiran rode at Lucien's side, both cloaked in neutral colors, with only a small retinue of trusted guards.
They spoke little on the road, yet the silence between them was no longer awkward. It was comfortable—companionship without demand.
That night, they made camp near a stream, stars flickering overhead. Eiran sat beside the fire, sharpening his blade, while Lucien returned from gathering kindling.
Eiran looked up. "Did you always love the stars?"
Lucien paused. "I used to. When I was younger, I thought they were the eyes of gods."
"And now?"
"Now, I think they're memories. Of people long gone. Watching."
Eiran set the blade down. "You speak like someone older than he appears."
Lucien met his gaze. "Because I am."
A beat.
Then Eiran asked, "Will you ever tell me everything?"
Lucien took a seat beside him. "When you're ready to hear it. Some truths come with too much weight."
Eiran nodded slowly. "Then I'll grow stronger. So I can carry it with you."
Lucien smiled, a small, real thing. "You already are."
---
They reached Elareth three days later.
The town was ash and ruin. Children huddled in broken temples, mothers wept over what was left of homes. The air still stank of smoke. Eiran dismounted and immediately moved toward the people, his presence like a salve.
Lucien watched how he knelt beside an elderly man, listened to a boy who had lost his sister. He watched Eiran see them—not as numbers, not as casualties, but as lives.
And he loved him for it.
It hit him with frightening clarity. It wasn't just admiration. It wasn't just alliance.
Lucien loved Eiran.
The realization left him breathless.
---
That night, in the makeshift barracks of a half-burned inn, they sat together once more.
Eiran turned to him. "I saw the way you looked at the boy today. The one who lost his sister."
Lucien frowned. "He reminded me of someone."
"Someone you lost?"
Lucien hesitated. "Yes. In another life."
Eiran reached for his hand again, unspoken understanding passing between them.
Lucien looked down at their joined hands. "I don't know what I'm allowed to feel for you."
"Feel whatever you want," Eiran said. "So long as it's honest."
"It is."
"Then we face it together."
Lucien met his eyes, overwhelmed.
Perhaps love was not a weapon or a weakness.
Perhaps it was the only shield he'd ever needed.
---
To be continued...
Please do comment and review...
I get motivation from your comments and reviews so please motivate me.