Cael was only twelve, a mischievous little thing with bright eyes and a habit of pushing every limit, just to see what might happen.
When Rowan returned that afternoon — seventeen then, tall and graceful in a way that made the servants whisper — Cael decided it would be fun to play a little game.
So he hid.
Behind the heavy curtains in the sunroom, stifling giggles with both hands, heart racing at the thought of Rowan finding him and being oh-so-annoyed. Maybe he'd sweep Cael up and scold him with that warm, indulgent voice, maybe give him a playful little smack on the head.
It was just fun.
⸻
At first, it was exactly what he expected.
Rowan calling for him down the halls, his voice echoing lightly. A faint note of amusement there.
But then... it changed.
The calls grew sharper. Harsher.
Doors slammed open and closed.
Cael peeked out once and saw Rowan's face — pale, tight, eyes blown wide with something that wasn't anger at all.
It was fear.
Pure, unfiltered terror.
⸻
Rowan stormed past the hall once more, muttering under his breath, hands shaking at his sides.
And that was when Cael realized this wasn't funny anymore.
Because Rowan didn't look like the composed young heir who always had a soft smile for him.
He looked like he was on the edge of breaking — like something inside him had already cracked.
⸻
Cael stumbled out from behind the curtains, hands raised awkwardly.
"Rowan! I was just joking. I—"
Rowan turned on him so fast it startled a little squeak from Cael.
For a breathless moment, he just stared. Then he rushed forward, grabbed Cael by the shoulders so hard it almost hurt.
"Don't ever do that again," Rowan hissed, voice trembling. "Don't you ever— gods, Cael, I thought—"
His hands clenched tighter. Cael winced.
Rowan let out a shaky exhale, then pressed his forehead to Cael's, eyes squeezed shut.
⸻
Cael, ever the playful child, laughed nervously.
"S-Sorry... but what if I did disappear one day? Just for fun? Like hide and make you look for me again?"
He meant it as a silly tease.
But Rowan pulled back just enough to meet his eyes — and the look there made all the blood drain from Cael's face.
Because Rowan smiled. Soft. Loving. Absolutely terrifying.
"If you ever do that," Rowan whispered, thumb brushing Cael's cheek in a tender stroke that didn't match the darkness in his gaze,
"I will burn this world to the ground until there's nowhere left for you to hide."
⸻
Twelve-year-old Cael had laughed it off then, awkwardly, trying to push down the chill crawling up his spine.
But now — years later, trapped once more in Rowan's arms, with guards at every door and no way out —
he realized it hadn't been a threat.
It had been a promise.
_______
Cael sat stiffly on the edge of a carved oak chair, hands twisted together in his lap. His heart was still fluttering from everything — the arguments, the gentle threats, the way Rowan had held him like something he would shatter without.
Now Rowan was on the floor in front of him, knees pressed to the thick carpet, arms wrapped tight around Cael's waist, cheek resting against his thigh.
It was a strangely humble position for a man like Rowan.
The mighty Duke D'Arvis, kneeling at his feet like a penitent knight — except there was nothing humble in the way he clung to Cael, the way his big hands flexed possessively against his sides.
Cael sat there, feeling Rowan's heavy head resting in his lap, long arms wrapped tight around his waist as though he was afraid Cael might vanish the moment he let go.
But something still festered in Cael's chest.
A memory, old and sharp, that refused to dull.That night...
So he swallowed hard, ran trembling fingers through Rowan's dark hair, and finally whispered:
"...Why did you kill your mother, Rowan? Why?"
⸻
Rowan didn't answer right away.
His head tilted slightly, cheek pressed into Cael's thigh, eyes half-closed.
Then, with a voice that was almost gentle, he murmured:
"I didn't want your hands to get dirty. "
Cael's breath caught.
Rowan's eyes slowly opened, dark and searching.
"I know how much you hated her, Cael. How much she hurt you — how many times she tried to kill you.I also know that you want to kill her. I couldn't let you stain yourself with that."
⸻
Cael's throat tightened.
"But still... she was your mother. Didn't you... didn't you feel anything? Any guilt ? Any grief?"
"No"
Rowan said simply, his voice flat, almost cold. Then it softened again, like silk sliding over a blade. "I hated her. Because she tried to kill you. Multiple times. Even when I intervened, she never stopped scheming. She was dangerous to you, Cael. And I won't allow anything that will harm you.Even that harmful thing was my own mother."
Cael stared down at him, heart sinking, realizing just how far Rowan's love stretched — beyond blood, beyond morality.
Beyond sanity.
⸻
He tried one last, fragile defense.
"I know you love me, Rowan. But I... I only think of you as my brother. We're still blood related, still—"
Rowan's eyes shifted then. A deep, unreadable look that sent a small shiver crawling up Cael's spine.
For a moment, it seemed like he might say something — something important, maybe even shattering.
But instead he just smiled. Soft. Terrifying.
"I don't care."
His arms tightened around Cael's waist, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched.
"I only want you, Cael...Just don't leave me again.I beg of you"
⸻
Cael closed his eyes, a small, pained sound escaping his lips.
His heart was exhausted — pulled between pity, fear, and that relentless old love he'd always carried for Rowan.
All he could do was let Rowan hold him.
Because even if he wanted to run... there was nowhere left to go.
Before Cael could argue or shy away, Rowan slipped one arm under his knees and the other around his back.
With effortless strength, he lifted Cael up against his chest.
⸻
Cael let out a small startled sound, hands instinctively clutching at Rowan's shoulders.
But Rowan only shushed him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple as he carried him across the room.
He laid Cael down on the bed like he was the most delicate thing in the world. His big hands were careful, guiding Cael to rest against the plush pillows, tucking the covers around him with almost obsessive precision.
Then Rowan just... stood there for a breath, dark eyes roving over every inch of Cael's tired face.
His throat worked, like he was swallowing words too heavy to speak.
Finally, he lowered himself to the mattress, leaning over Cael, one hand cradling his cheek, thumb stroking slowly back and forth.
"You don't have to think about anything anymore,just close your eyes" Rowan whispered. His voice was low, tender — and terrifyingly sure.
"I'll handle it all. You just rest, Cael. Just rest..."
⸻
And when Cael didn't resist — when he just closed his eyes with a small, defeated sigh — Rowan's entire expression softened into something almost unbearably gentle.
He pressed a lingering kiss to Cael's forehead.Cael has a really long and exhausted day,His eye lids become heavy and his consciousness slowly drift away.
He has fallen asleep.
When Cael next woke, it was already night again.
Soft candlelight flickered across the room, throwing gentle shadows on the carved walls. Outside the window, the moon hung heavy and bright. Everything was hushed, the air so still it was as if the entire world was holding its breath.
Except for Rowan.
⸻
Rowan lay beside him, one strong arm draped across Cael's waist, the other tucked under the pillow as if even in sleep he couldn't bear to stop touching him.
Their legs were tangled together under the covers. Rowan's chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, his face turned toward Cael's, impossibly calm.
He looked divine like this.
Like some beautiful god carved from marble — lips slightly parted, dark lashes brushing flushed cheeks, a faint softness in his expression that no one else would ever get to see.
⸻
Cael's heart twisted painfully.
Because he knew this side of Rowan belonged to him alone.
No one else would ever witness this quiet vulnerability, this raw, desperate peace.
His only brother.The only who love him most.
Always kind and gentle to him but terrifying to everyone else.
A man who would destroy everythings just to keep him.
⸻
Carefully, Cael tried to slip away.
He held his breath, inching his shoulders back, trying to ease Rowan's heavy arm from his waist.
But Rowan only made a small noise in his sleep — a low, content hum — and tightened his grip, pulling Cael flush against the hard lines of his body.
It was like being pinned by warm iron.
Completely trapped.
⸻
Cael let out a tiny, defeated laugh, tears pricking at his eyes.
He pressed his forehead to Rowan's chest, breathing in his familiar scent — sandalwood, faint spice, and something purely Rowan.
Idiot, Cael thought, swallowing thickly. My hopeless brother.
⸻
But even as he lay there, quietly giving up on escape, his mind wandered painfully to the twins.
Were they alright? Eating? Sleeping?
Were they crying?
God,Please take care of these pitiful children.
A cold dread coiled in his stomach. Because he knew — he knew — exactly what those boys were capable of when frightened and desperate.
⸻
Far away, in a dark forest drenched with moonlight and blood, two silver-haired monsters were indeed hunting.
Eyes glowing red, laughter soft and cruel, they tore through every shadow in their path.
Because their Cael was missing.
And the world would pay for it.