The dim light of the single torch flickered in the far corner of Eden's cell, casting long shadows on the cold stone walls. The silence was thick, pressing in on him from all sides. The stillness felt like a weight, heavy and suffocating, but there was something different in the air tonight—a subtle shift that Eden couldn't quite place.
He sat by the small cot, his hands resting in his lap, trying to focus on the sounds around him—the faint scurrying of rats in the distant corners, the drip of water echoing from the stone walls. It was all too familiar, yet tonight, even the smallest noises seemed to stand out against the oppressive quiet.
It had been several days since Darian had visited him, and Eden had grown accustomed to the eerie solitude. The Prince's presence had become almost a strange kind of rhythm in his life—an unpredictable but inevitable cadence that always managed to invade his thoughts, whether he wanted it to or not.
His mind drifted to the last time Darian had come—how his touch had lingered on Eden's arm, his voice softer than it had ever been before. It had unsettled Eden, not because he was afraid, but because it was the first time Darian hadn't come at him with cold authority, with that sharp edge that made Eden flinch. It was a strange kindness that Eden couldn't place.
He didn't know what to make of it. His instincts told him to be wary, to push back, to reject the softness as a trick, as something manipulative. And yet, there was a part of him—one he didn't want to acknowledge—that longed for the gentleness Darian had shown.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Eden's breath caught in his chest. His heartbeat quickened, but not in the usual way. This time, it wasn't out of fear—it was the sound of someone entering who didn't carry the usual weight of coldness in their footsteps. It was Darian.
Eden couldn't see him, but he could feel the shift in the air, the way the temperature in the room seemed to change with his presence. His breath, steady and calm, seemed to fill the space between them.
"Eden," Darian said, his voice soft—too soft. Eden's brow furrowed as he turned toward the sound of the Prince's voice, though he couldn't fully understand the change in it. There was no authority there, no harsh command. Instead, Darian sounded… uncertain, almost hesitant.
Eden stayed silent, his fingers curling slightly in his lap. He didn't want to speak, not yet. Not until he understood what Darian wanted, what this new version of the Prince meant.
The sound of footsteps drew closer, but they were slow, careful. Darian wasn't rushing, wasn't stalking, wasn't the predator Eden had become accustomed to. Instead, there was a quiet, almost reverent slowness to his approach, as if he were afraid of disturbing something delicate.
"I didn't mean to… I don't know what I was expecting," Darian muttered, almost to himself. "I thought… I don't know. But I'm here now."
Eden tilted his head slightly, trying to make sense of Darian's words. His voice was so different tonight—soft, even apologetic, like someone trying to come to terms with something they had no control over.
"What do you want, Darian?" Eden finally asked, his voice quieter than usual. The uncertainty in Darian's tone had unsettled him, but it had also sparked something else—a small, reluctant curiosity.
Darian paused, a long moment of silence stretching between them before he responded, his voice a little lower, a little more grounded. "I... I don't know what I want either, Eden. But I know one thing." His voice faltered for a moment before he continued, his tone gentler than Eden had ever heard. "I don't want to hurt you."
The words were so unexpected, so foreign, that Eden wasn't sure he had heard them correctly. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Instead, he felt the floor beneath him shift as Darian knelt down beside him. The action was so quiet, so deliberate, that Eden didn't know what to expect next. His senses were heightened—he could hear Darian's breathing, feel the warmth radiating off his body, but it was the touch that unsettled him most.
Darian's hand, warm and tentative, reached out to gently rest on Eden's arm. He didn't move to pull him closer, didn't demand anything of him. The touch was soft, careful, as though Darian was afraid he might shatter if he moved too quickly.
"I won't touch you again unless you let me," Darian said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers traced the length of Eden's arm lightly, not pressing, just an acknowledgement of his presence. The touch was almost like a question, a plea, though neither of them spoke it out loud.
Eden swallowed, the sensation of Darian's hand on his arm both grounding and overwhelming. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was—forgot the cold stone of the dungeon, the heavy chains of captivity. All he could focus on was the warmth of Darian's skin against his own, the softness of his voice that seemed to reach inside of him and stir something long dormant.
"Why now?" Eden asked, his voice small, unsure. "Why... are you being like this?" His words held the weight of a hundred questions, but the most pressing one was simple: Why the softness? Why the change?
Darian took a deep breath, his hand resting against Eden's skin for a moment longer before he pulled away, though his presence remained just as strong. "I don't know," he said, his voice quiet and full of something Eden couldn't quite place. "Maybe I've been wrong. Maybe I thought I could break you, control you. But… I don't want to anymore."
Eden's heart beat louder in his chest, each word striking him harder than the last. He wanted to pull away, to tell Darian to stop—to scream at him for confusing him, for making him feel things he didn't understand. But something in Darian's tone made him hesitate. There was no force, no manipulation, just… vulnerability.
Eden had never heard Darian speak this way. There was no bravado, no hidden agenda. Just a raw honesty that left Eden feeling exposed, unsure, and vulnerable in a way he couldn't quite explain.
"I don't know how to fix what I've done," Darian continued, his voice steady but softer now, "but I want to try. I want to give you something… different." A choice, maybe." He paused, his gaze softening in the silence. "I'm sorry."
The words hung in the air, and for the first time, Eden didn't know how to respond. The apology was unexpected, genuine in a way that both comforted and confused him. He didn't know what to do with it. Did he accept it? Did he forgive Darian for the cruelty, for the way he had trapped him here?
But before Eden could say anything, Darian stood slowly, his footsteps quiet as he backed away. There was no command this time, no pressure. Only an unspoken understanding that their relationship, however twisted, was shifting.
"I'll leave you alone now," Darian said, his voice barely audible. "But… I'm here when you need me."
And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Eden in the quiet of the room, his thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty.