Maelis POV...
I am tired.
Not the normal kind of tired, but the bone-deep exhaustion that settles into your shoulders and refuses to leave. Riding a horse for hours while wearing heavy royal attire should be considered a crime. Whoever designed these outfits clearly never sat on a saddle for more than five minutes.
The armor beneath the fabric digs into my skin. The embroidered coat weighs more than my sanity. My legs ache, my back protests, and I swear if I had a choice, I would trade this crown for a nap without hesitation.
Six years.
It feels unreal even thinking about it.
Six years since I woke up in this body. The original owner has turned twenty now. Riven is sixteen.
I miss my mom and my sister so much. I do not know how much longer I have to survive like this, or when I will return to my own world.
Sometimes I genuinely do not know how I survived this far.
Every single day felt like walking on a thin thread stretched over a pit of knives. One wrong step, one wrong decision, and I would end up exactly like the novel promised. Public execution. My parents dead. My kingdom in ruins.
I changed the plot. Not drastically, not recklessly, but carefully. Like moving chess pieces one step at a time. And now the real story begins after this mission.
Because Riven's hostage period is about to end.
That fact alone makes my chest tighten.
In the original story, this mission was the turning point. The moment everything shattered beyond repair.
I remember it too clearly.
Maelis led the team into the forest. Bandits laid a trap. Chaos erupted. Panic spread. And in the end, it was Riven who saved everyone. Not the crown prince. Not the trained nobles. The slave boy.
Riven became a hero.
And Maelis became furious.
On the way back, the original Maelis sent the others ahead. He kept Caleb, Lucien, Kael, Elric, and a few loyal guards behind. They dragged Riven into the forest and beat him until he could not stand. Left him there like trash, bleeding and broken.
That night, they celebrated.
They laughed. They drank. They hoped Riven would die alone in the dark.
But he did not.
He came back.
And something inside him died forever.
That was the day darkness swallowed him whole.
I swallow hard, gripping the reins tighter.
But that will not happen.
I know the plot. I know the traps. I know every single twist waiting ahead. I am not worried about the mission itself.
What worries me is Riven.
Stopping him from becoming ruthless is the real battle.
I did everything I could. Changed his environment. Changed his treatment. Changed the people around him. I even tried to fix his love story.
Seraphine Valoire.
The female lead.
I made sure they spent time together. I arranged conversations. Shared missions. Gave them space. Opportunities. Everything the genre demands.
But something is wrong.
They look at each other coldly. Polite. Distant. Like strangers bound by obligation rather than fate.
Riven barely stays near her.
Instead, he stays with me.
Always with me.
I tried pushing him toward Seraphine, subtly, carefully, but he did not budge. Not even an inch.
Is it possible that the male lead and female lead genre changed?
Or maybe they just have not realized they love each other yet.
That must be it.
I tell myself to be patient. The story needs time. Riven still needs to gain power. Needs to return to his kingdom. Needs to walk his destined path.
Everything between Riven and me is good. Better than good. Trust. Loyalty. Comfort.
So why would he ever attack us?
Why would he ever turn against Ravencourt?
Maybe after this mission, he will confess to Seraphine. Maybe their story finally starts. And I will quietly step back, because I am not interested in her at all.
I am not part of that story.
I never was.
"Crown Prince."
Riven's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I blink and look up.
He steps inside the tent, carrying a tray of food. His movements are quiet, practiced. He sets the tray down carefully, as if the act itself deserves respect.
"Eat," he says softly.
I smile despite myself.
This kid.
I take a few bites, hunger finally catching up with me. The food is warm, seasoned well. Simple, but comforting.
Halfway through, Riven suddenly reaches forward.
Before I can react, he takes my plate.
And starts eating from it.
I stare at him in disbelief.
"Why can you not eat from your own plate?" I say, half annoyed, half amused. "At least use a different spoon. Why are you like this?"
He does not even look embarrassed.
"You eat slow," he replies calmly, as if that explains everything.
I sigh.
"You literally grew taller than me," I add, patting his head out of habit. "But you still behave like a small child."
I do not even know when this habit started.
Sharing my plate. Using my spoon. Sitting too close. Always glued to my side.
It happened gradually. So naturally that I barely noticed until it became routine.
Riven finishes eating, then takes the plate and sets it aside. He stands and moves behind me.
I feel his fingers in my hair.
He starts combing it gently.
I freeze.
Not because I dislike it.
Because it feels too familiar. Too intimate. Too domestic.
I let out a slow breath.
I am going to miss this kid.
He is going back to that hell hole of a kingdom. Back to relatives who see him as a tool. A sacrifice. A shield for their precious son.
I wish I could keep him here.
Protect him.
Hide him from the cruelty waiting beyond Ravencourt's borders.
But he is the male lead.
I cannot interfere with fate that much.
He will become king.
I hope.
And I hope he does not end exactly like the novel.
I hope he lives peacefully. Marries Seraphine. Rules wisely. Laughs freely.
I hope he stays human.
"What are you thinking about, Crown Prince?" Riven asks quietly.
I glance at him through the mirror.
"Nothing," I reply. "Just about those bandits."
He hums softly, continuing to comb my hair.
"Do not worry," he says. "We will catch them."
His voice is gentle. Certain.
I close my eyes.
I hope you are right, Riven.
I really do.
As he finishes combing my hair, he moves to set my bed. I shake my head.
"I can do it myself, kid," I say, raising my eyebrows.
"I am not a kid anymore," he replies, looking offended.
"For me, you will always be a kid. Like a little brother," I say, pinching his cheeks.
He stands there with a blank expression.
What is wrong with him? Sometimes he acts strange.
"What is wrong?" I ask, confused.
"Nothing," he replies quietly. "I am going to sleep. Good night, Crown Prince."
He gently removes my hands from his cheeks and leaves, his face unreadable.
Did I offend him?