The bathhouse breathed like a living thing: steam curled from the marble basins and fogged the lantern glass until the light was gentled into something intimate. Adrian and Asher moved together through the heat with the easy, candid fellowliness of two people who had learned to care for one another as if rehearsal for war. Their voices were low, warm, the kind of sounds that fit the room.
Adrian (grinning as he sloshed water with cupped hands):
"You look ridiculous with foam in your hair."
Asher (blinking, mock-outraged):
"It's shampoo, thank you very much. Besides, you look ridiculous without any."
Adrian (ducking, splashing water):
"Then we are both ridiculous and equally charming."
They laughed and the sound hung in the steamy air, a small bell against the hush. Asher handed Adrian a cloth; Adrian took it, then surprised Asher by pressing his palm to the smaller man's shoulder and squeezing, a shy kind of possessive gesture.
Asher (soft):
"Did you hear? The king called an urgent council at dusk."
Adrian (tilting his head, casual):
"I heard. I thought we were safe tonight."
Asher (rolling his eyes):
"You and your destiny. You always think danger prefers to wait for you."
Adrian reached for Asher's jaw, trailing suds along the line as if this ordinary movement could anchor them both in the safe, small world they were making.
Adrian (quiet, earnest):
"I don't want you swept away yet, Asher. The thought of leaving you—"
Asher (placing a soapy hand over Adrian's):
"Then don't. Stay alive. Come back to tell me stories about your terrible jokes and your dramatic charges."
Adrian laughed, half-joy, half-relief. He rinsed the suds from Asher's hair with practiced hands, the water streaming like a small confession.
Adrian (a dark smile):
"Promise me something—when you are older and tired of being brave, you'll still choose me."
Asher (eyes bright):
"I already choose you."
They paused, letting the steam press against them like a soft applause. Then Adrian took Asher's face between his palms and kissed him—short, tender, the kind of firsts that seal rather than shame.
Asher (breathless):
"That was—"
Adrian (smile while rinsing his own face):
"—not terrible."
They bathed as if they had all the time in the world: washing, laughing, trading small confessions and clumsy promises. It was their first ceremony of intimacy beyond the bed—less about bodies and more about trust: hands that would anchor when storms came, mouths that would give speech to fear.
A rap on the wooden stall door broke the ease.
Footman (voice muffled, urgent):
"Sir—Adrian—Master Asher—pardon the intrusion, but there is a messenger from the king. He seeks Lord Felix and Prince Hyunjin immediately. The summons was urgent."
The words landed like a bell tolling. The bath's steam seemed to bend away from them.
Asher (in a small voice):
"Felix? Hyunjin?"
Adrian (a quick hand squeezing Asher's):
"Go, get dressed. You'll be fine. I'll be right with you."
They dressed in a rush with the kind of clumsy efficiency that bespoke practice in haste. Adrian put on his remaining bandage with one hand while Asher struggled into a doublet that had once belonged to a quieter time. They left the bathhouse hand-in-hand for a moment, then split—Adrian to the stables to check on his men, Asher to find the courier services to ensure Felix received word, though he suspected Felix had already known.
The corridors smelled of smoke and iron. Voices threaded through the halls — hurried, anxious. Servants flitted like pale moths. At the throne room, the court had taken on a high, brittle quality. The king sat like a monument, and around him the ministers were small and nervous.
Old Minister (whispering to Lord Harven):
"We must be cautious. If the prince's reputation is compromised—"
Lord Harven (leaning in, poisonous charm):
"Reputations are paper; leverage is the ink that makes them useful."
Felix stood near the council table, papers clutched like a shield. Hyunjin was there too, rigid and composed as a spear. The moment the king spoke, the hall eased into silence like a sea going flat.
King (coldly, cutting through the hush):
"There are rumors in the city. Reports of improper conduct. I have been served witness and sworn statements that the prince has kept late hours with Lord Felix of House Verran."
A ripple—more than gossip—ran through the room. Faces turned, forks mid-air, breath held. Hyunjin's jaw tightened, stone against the tide.
Felix (voice steady, but the slight tremor betrayed him):
"Majesty—"
King (raising a hand):
"Hush." He folded the paper the harried messenger had placed before him. "These are not idle slanders. They come with testimony."
Hyunjin (cool, cutting):
"Your Majesty, accusations without proof are common. Men use them to pry when they cannot obtain favor by fair means."
Lord Harven (eyes bright with malice):
"Proof will speak when presented, Highness. Until then, caution is wise."
The king's face was not quick with anger; it was a slower, more dangerous thing—like a tide that would come in deliberately.
King (quiet):
"Felix, Hyunjin—both of you—approach."
They did. It felt like walking to the edge of a cliff that had been disguised as a carpet.
King (once they stood before him):
"Lord Felix, is this true? Are you seeing the prince in this fashion—secretly, as a lover?"
Felix's breath caught. The world reduced to the fine thread of a question.
Felix (measured):
"Majesty, I—" He stopped. Public lies had a particular coarseness that stuck. He least wanted to lie here.
Hyunjin's face was unreadable. He did not move. He did not shield Felix. The prince's silence was a blade of its own.
Old Minister (hissing):
"Answer him, boy. Do not dally in riddles."
Felix looked at Hyunjin, and in that split second he had a choice: protect with word, with silence, with a half-truth. He chose something small and honest that would be dangerous.
Felix (soft, loud enough for the council to hear):
"Yes. It is true. We are—" He swallowed the word. "We are... in a relationship."
A gasp was the sound of the hall tearing open. Lady Seraphine's fan fell silent as if it had betrayed her. Lord Harven's face creased in a smile that had no humor. Only the king's face was a plain slab of unread emotion.
King (slowly):
"You are playing with fire, Felix."
Hyunjin (stepping forward for the first time, voice like iron):
"Majesty, this is not play. These are matters of affection between consenting adults. We have not used our positions to advantage."
Lord Harven (leaning in, horned smile):
"Consenting? Even princes must be mindful. A prince's bed is not the same as a lord's. It is symbolism."
King (hot now, a tide turned):
"Symbolism? You treat the crown as attire to be glittered for private taste." He pointed at Hyunjin, the motion official as a law. "You will explain yourself fully. In private, before I decide what is to be done."
Hyunjin's mouth hardened into a line. "I will explain what I must," he said. No apology. No bending.
Felix felt the floor tilt. The silence after the king's words hummed with consequences. People divided into the camps of curiosity and fear. The air was thick with the smell of iron and old money.
Outside the chamber, whispers were teeth. In the gallery, Harven and others exchanged the currency of triumph and ruin. Felix's heart pounded hard enough that Adrian — watching from the doorway with a face made of worry — moved as if to cross the threshold but was held back by Hyunjin's gaze.
Adrian (voice low, urgent to Felix as they passed):
"Remember the fractures that bind. Stay sharp. Asher—get the guards. Keep him near."
Asher's face had gone pale. He steadied himself. "Yes," he said with the small sound of someone summoning courage.
The king dismissed court with a curt motion. The hall emptied like a stage after a storm. Felix and Hyunjin were led to a smaller solar where the king could speak without witnesses, though the knowledge would not stay private for long.
King (closing the door, then facing them):
"You both know what is at stake. The succession. The opinions of foreign courts. The men who would use a private love to split us. You know this."
Hyunjin (calm):
"Yes."
King (forceful, wounded):
"Do you not think your actions endanger more than your own reputations? You are the prince, Hyunjin. Allies watch. Enemies wait. Lord Felix, as liaison you represent the crown's face abroad. How can I trust the crown's image if the prince's bed becomes scandal?"
Felix (soft, with a steadiness he did not entirely feel):
"Majesty, I serve the crown. My private life will not hinder the terms. I swore an oath."
King (bitter):
"Oaths can be interpreted." He sat, the leather of the chair creaking. "I will not have factions form around intimacy. There are men who gather around fault lines. I will not allow this to be one."
Hyunjin stepped forward, rising to the challenge like the soldier he'd been raised to be.
Hyunjin (voice dangerous):
"Then what do you wish? A public renunciation? An exile? Speak plainly and quickly."
The king's face was a closed thing for a moment. He had always been careful to rule by measured decree.
King (finally):
"Hyunjin — you must end any relationship that risks the crown's stability. You will not flaunt the matter publicly. Lord Felix — you will step back from the liaison in official capacity. You may travel, but you will not act as the crown's principal. If either of you refuses, there will be consequences."
Felix's heart slid as if off a cliff. The price asked—public erasure for one of them—felt cruel and sharp.
Felix (voice breaking despite effort):
"You would ask me to step away to protect a crown that I serve? To be the one seen as ruinous while the prince keeps his place?"
King (unmoved):
"The crown's continuity outweighs your personal happiness. You should have foreseen this when you accepted favor."
Hyunjin (cold, furious now):
"You ask one man to be sacrificed while you keep us both under your roof. That is not order; that is cowardice."
The king's composure cracked like an old plaster.
King (dangerous):
"You brand me a coward? You would see the throne undermined because you prefer defiance?"
Hyunjin (leaning close, the soldier's steadiness a new weapon):
"If standing for a man I love undermines you, then your hold was never steady. I will not surrender him to ease the hands of those who would watch us with knives."
Felix watched them—the king's fury, Hyunjin's defiant calm—and felt the world narrow to a single point: he loved a prince who would not bow, and he had to decide whether his love was worth the coming violence.
The king's breath was slow and measured, as if he were weighing a scale that balanced nations.
King (final):
"You have until dawn. Decide."
They were left alone with the echo of threats and the heavy, certain knowledge that the truth had changed the map of their lives. The court would not forget. Harven would not stop. The crown had spoken with the voice of cost.
Outside, the city slept unaware of the small, intimate earthquake. Inside, in the quiet of a chamber that smelled of cedar and ink, two men who had once traded kisses in shadow now had to trade decisions under the uncompromising light of day. The choice would be made in the morning — for love, for duty, for the fragile thing that tied them both to the world.
Far away, in a smaller room, Adrian and Asher held one another with the rawness of people who had been given a glimpse of what could be lost. The bathhouse and the bed had been safe once. Now safety was a rumor to be protected fiercely, if it could be protected at all.
Adrian (a whisper as they clung):
"We will hold what we can, Asher. We will be careful, and we will be loud when it matters."
Asher (clinging):
"And if they demand a price?"
Adrian (voice hard with promise):
"Then we pay it with our hands, not our hearts—unless they force our hearts into the fire. Then I will burn with you."
They stayed that night, two separate battles simmering in different rooms of the palace: one of policy, status, and the crown; the other of tenderness and vows. Dawn would come with its verdicts, and with it, the palace would decide which burdens it could keep—and which it would ask another to bear.