The quiet after Eiran's confession was heavier than any battle Lucien had ever fought. Not the war rooms filled with maps and generals, not the poisoned letters sent in the dark, not even the weight of the original Duke Ravencroft's legacy—none of it compared to the fragile, breathtaking stillness in that moment.
"I didn't want to feel this," Eiran whispered, his eyes avoiding Lucien's. "Not for you. Not after everything."
Lucien took a slow breath. "You don't have to say anything more tonight."
"I do," Eiran said. His voice trembled. "Because if I don't say it now, I might never say it. And you—"
"I'm not leaving," Lucien interrupted gently. "Not unless you ask me to."
A flicker of something—pain, relief, hope—passed over Eiran's face. He stood, turning away, hands clenched at his sides. "It's not easy, Lucien. Trusting you. Every time I look at you, I remember the man from the stories. The traitor. The villain."
Lucien walked to him slowly, stopping a breath away. "Then look harder."
Eiran's breath hitched.
"Look harder," Lucien repeated softly. "I'm not him. I never was."
A long silence followed, broken only by the wind outside brushing against the old stone.
"I want to believe you," Eiran murmured. "Gods, I want to."
Lucien reached out, his fingers gently brushing Eiran's hand. "Then let's stop surviving and start living. Together. One step at a time."
The prince turned his hand over, entwining their fingers. It was the smallest of gestures, but it meant everything.
---
The following days moved slower. Purposefully so.
Lucien and Eiran didn't speak of war or fate. Instead, they let themselves exist in the small moments. Training side by side in the early light. Sharing quiet meals in the shadow of the citadel. Reading old records that spoke of alliances long before either of them were born.
But even in the stillness, tension hummed beneath the surface.
Lucien could feel it in the glances the guards exchanged, in the way letters arrived without seals, without names. Someone was watching. Waiting.
It was only a matter of time.
"Do you miss your world?" Eiran asked one night as they stood beneath the terrace, the stars stretching endlessly above them.
Lucien tilted his head. "Sometimes. But only pieces of it."
"Like?"
"Coffee," he said with a smirk. "Pizza. The sound of cars."
Eiran chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You're strange."
"I'm not from here," Lucien teased.
"But you are here now." Eiran turned, his gaze serious. "And so am I."
Lucien's breath caught. "Eiran..."
The prince took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Whatever comes next... you won't face it alone. I won't let you."
Their hands met again, fingers entwining like they had in the quiet days before all this began.
"Neither will I," Lucien whispered.
And under the same moon, two enemies-turned-allies stood together—not as hero and villain, but as something more fragile, more dangerous, and far more real.
Something that might one day be called love.
---
The night was darker than usual.
Not just because of the overcast skies that smothered the stars, but because of the silence that had settled over the northern palace like a predator waiting to pounce.
Lucien sat in the war chamber, staring at the map on the table. The lines marking enemy positions hadn't moved, but something in the air told him the silence was unnatural.
"Something's wrong," he muttered.
Eiran entered a moment later, his boots quiet against the stone. "You feel it too."
Lucien nodded. "It's like the calm before the storm."
"I received a letter this evening," Eiran said, pulling a folded parchment from his coat. "No signature. Just these words: 'When the wolves howl, the flame dies.'"
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "A warning?"
"Or a threat."
They stood in silence, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across their faces.
"I want to trust the peace we've built here," Lucien said finally. "But I don't know how long it will hold."
Eiran walked closer, his hand brushing Lucien's arm. "Then we strengthen it. We prepare."
Lucien looked down at Eiran's hand. "And if it all falls apart?"
"Then we fall together," Eiran whispered.
---
Later that night, Lucien found himself unable to sleep. He wandered the halls of the palace, thinking of the lives he'd read about—the tragedies and betrayals that had defined the novel's world.
But this was no longer a story he could read and forget. It was his life now. Their life.
He stopped at the balcony overlooking the outer courtyard. The moon was barely visible.
Footsteps approached. Eiran joined him, wrapped in a simple robe, hair tousled from sleep.
"You couldn't sleep either?" Lucien asked.
Eiran shook his head. "Nightmares."
Lucien turned to him, voice softer now. "About what?"
"You."
Lucien's chest tightened. "Me?"
Eiran nodded slowly. "Not you now. The other you. The one from the stories."
Lucien reached out, gently cupping Eiran's cheek. "Then let me write you a different ending."
Eiran leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly. "One where we both survive?"
"One where we both live," Lucien whispered.
And in the silence that followed, the storm gathered far away—but for now, they had this moment.
Together.
---
To be continued...