He ran.
Leaves cracked beneath his feet, branches clawed at his arms, but he didn't stop. Not until Rowan's voice — the broken cries, the angry shouts — faded behind him, swallowed by the forest. Silence. That was worse.
Cael stumbled to a halt, breath ragged. His chest ached like something was tearing it apart from the inside.
"I really did it," he whispered to himself. "I left him."
He had dreamed of freedom. Of running far away, escaping the suffocating affection, the golden cage, the obsessive love that had always clung to him. But now that he had it, why did it feel like his legs were made of iron? Why did every step away feel like he was dragging chains behind him?
He thought of Rowan's leg — torn open by rusted steel. Of how he took that pain for him. Of the blood. Of Rowan's eyes, wide with betrayal, then despair, then... nothing.
Was it too much? Was the bleeding worse than he thought?
What if Rowan couldn't free himself? What if the knights didn't found him in time?
What if... Rowan really got hurt — because of him?
Cael clenched his fists. His chest felt tight, suffocating. He had finally escaped Rowan's grasp, but his heart — it was still trapped. Shackled by guilt. By memories. By the echo of a brother's desperate voice calling out his name.
He turned, footsteps faltering.
"...Just one glance," he muttered. "I'll look from afar. Just to make sure... he's okay. That's all."
Because if Rowan was hurt, and he walked away without looking back... he didn't think he could live with that.
So he ran again — not away this time, but back.
Back to the man who had always chased after him. The man whose love terrified him. The man who had, once again, bled for him.
There he was.
Cael crouched behind the thick trunk of an old tree, heart pounding as he watched the man in the clearing.
Rain poured steadily, soaking Rowan's dark hair, his black cloak clinging to him like a second skin. He wasn't moving. Just sitting there, one leg still caught in the jagged steel trap, blood mixing with the wet soil beneath him. His head hung low, his shoulders trembling.
Was he... crying?
Cael's breath caught in his throat.
Rowan never cried. Not even when he broke a rib during sword training. Not when their father—the duke—died. He was always strong, unshakable. Even terrifying. But Cael remembered—there had been one time. Just once.
He had been nine years old, writhing in bed, skin pale and lips blue from the poison his stepmother had slipped into his tea. Cael had thought he was going to die. He remembered the pain. The fever. The fear.
He hadn't remembered Rowan being there. But after he recovered, the servants whispered it. The duke confirmed it. Rowan had stayed by his bedside the whole time, not sleeping, not eating. And when the physicians failed to help, he had grabbed one by the collar and threatened to slit his throat if Cael died.
And he cried. They said Rowan cried that night.Even though he hadn't witnessed by himself.In Cael mind,it's ridiculous that his strong and powerful brother will cry pitifully just because of him.But now,he has seen it.
That had been the first time.
This was the second.
Cael's chest tightened. Rowan was soaked, shivering, and broken. Tears slid down his cheeks, nearly invisible in the rain—but Cael saw them. He felt them.
He knew what those tears meant.
He heard footsteps — distant, fast. Knights. Good. They were coming.
He'll be okay, Cael thought. His wounds would be treated. The knights would help him. He was safe now.
Cael turned away, the trees swallowing him as he slipped deeper into the forest.
He was leaving.
___________
Rain still poured, soft and steady, soaking through Rowan's dark hair as he remained slumped on the ground, shivering and bleeding, trapped like a wounded animal. His eyes stared blankly at the muddy soil. He heard footsteps — just one set this time, slow and steady.
He didn't even look up.
Probably another knight, finally here to retrieve their failure of a master. He had no pride left to greet them. No energy to snarl or command. Let them see him broken. It didn't matter.
But then—
A voice.
Soft. Familiar.
"...Rowan."
Rowan's eyes widened. Slowly, like the air had been knocked from his lungs, his head turned—and there, just a few feet away, stood Cael.
For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. The storm, the pain, the grief—it had to be a dream.
But the voice came again, gentler this time. "Rowan... What should I do with you?"
And just like that, Rowan shattered.
"You came back..." he choked out, a sob catching in his throat as he crawled forward on one knee, dragging the heavy trap with him. He reached Cael and fell against him, arms wrapping around his leg, clinging like a man drowning. "You came back—Cael—don't leave me again—please—please—I'll do anything—anything you want—I'll kneel, I'll crawl—I'll give up everything, just stay—just stay—please..."
Cael froze.
The sight before him was unbearable.
This wasn't the mighty Duke Rowan—the cold, feared monster of the court. This was just... a man. A man so terrified of being left behind he was sobbing into the leg of the only person he had ever loved.
"I can't..." Cael whispered, voice cracking. "I can't leave you like this."
Rowan's body trembled in Cael's arms, his breath shallow from blood loss, yet his grip was still tight. The rain hadn't stopped. It drenched them both, turning the forest floor into mud, mixing with the crimson trailing from his injured leg.
Cael tried to adjust him, to take more of his weight, but Rowan's hand suddenly gripped his wrist—tight, cold, and deliberate.
"...Rowan?"
Rowan slowly reached into his coat. From an inner sheath, he pulled a dagger. The blade was beautiful—silver and black, with the Vaelrath crest engraved near the hilt. Without hesitation, he pressed it into Cael's palm.
"Do it," Rowan whispered, his violet eyes shining like glass beneath the rain. "Right here."
He forcefully aim the dagger to his chest—right over his heart.
Cael froze, horrified.
"What—what the hell are you—?"
"I'm giving you your only freedom," Rowan murmured, voice oddly calm. "If you want to be free of me, Cael... this is the only way."
His hand stayed over Cael's, forcing him to keep hold of the dagger.
"You stab me. Kill me. Right now. Only then—I'll never follow you again."
Rowan's smile was so gentle it made Cael sick. His lips trembled, but the madness in his eyes was clear.
"I'll die by your hands. Willingly.Because as long as I'm still alive... I know that I'll never let you go."
"Stop—stop it—" Cael shook his head, struggling, but Rowan's grip didn't loosen.
"So choose." His voice cracked. "Set yourself free. Or stay with me forever."
Cael's throat was dry. His hands were shaking. He couldn't breathe.
This wasn't a choice. This was a cage in the shape of love.
His eyes welled with tears. "Rowan... don't do this..."
He knew it now.
He would never be able to escape Rowan—not because of chains, or power, or force.
But because of this.
This raw, pitiful desperation of this man who had been abandoned again and again—by him.
The dagger slipped from Cael's hand and landed in the mud.
Cael had walked back into the cage. Not because he was trapped... but because he chose to stay.
_______
Minutes later, the sound of boots sloshing in the mud cut through the rain. The knights had arrived.
They skidded to a halt—then froze.
Their faces drained of color as they took in the scene: the bloodied trap, Rowan slumped against Cael, his leg still caught, mangled and soaked in blood.
"G-Get the trap open! Now!" barked the head knight, rushing forward.
They scrambled around the device, hands trembling. One knight swore under his breath as he saw how deeply the rusted metal had chewed into flesh. Another nearly dropped the tools as blood ran in rivulets over Rowan's boot.
"No... this is serious. If this infection sets in—" one murmured.
"Don't just stand there!" the head knight snapped. "Break it open—GO!"
They finally pried the trap apart with brutal effort. The metal groaned, then gave way with a sickening crack. Rowan flinched, a sharp hiss escaping him—but he didn't say a word. His eyes were only on Cael.
None of the knights moved to touch their duke.
They all knew Rowan didn't tolerate it.
So Cael did it. He bent down, gently pulling Rowan up, wrapping an arm around his waist. Rowan leaned into him, breathing shallow, eyes dazed with disbelief as he limped forward with Cael's support.
"You really came back," Rowan murmured, voice hoarse.
Cael didn't answer.
Then Rowan said something else—quiet, almost casual, but Cael felt the ice crawl down his spine.
"When you ran... I thought about cutting your legs," Rowan said softly. "If I caught you, I was going to chain you to me. Forever.I guess... I have really gone mad"
Cael stopped in his tracks, heart hammering.
He turned to look at Rowan. "And now?"
Rowan smiled. It was the saddest smile Cael had ever seen—gentle, exhausted, too pitiful to be frightening.
"Now... I just want to thank you. For coming back."
Cael didn't say a word.
He just held him tighter.