The halls of the Royal Palace had become a labyrinth of unspoken rules. Since the night of the "Silent Siege," a fragile truce had settled between the King and his Consort. Kyon continued his agonizingly patient pursuit of a redemption he wasn't sure he deserved, while Arion remained a fortress of cold observation ever watchful for a slip in the mask.
However, the political climate of the palace was currently being disrupted by a much smaller, much louder force.
Prince Lorcan, now six years old and more precocious than ever, had become a permanent fixture in the Royal Wing. His father's diplomatic mission had been extended indefinitely, and Lorcan had taken it upon himself to "supervise" the upbringing of the young heir, Aiden.
To Lorcan, Aiden was a fascinating puzzle. He was an Alpha son of the North, yet he carried the regal, terrifying eyes of the Serpent. Lorcan, a young omega prince who understood the power of charm and etiquette, had decided that Aiden needed "refining."
"No, no, Aiden," Lorcan sighed, crossing his small arms over his silk tunic as they sat in the nursery. "You cannot simply pounce on the wooden soldiers. An Alpha prince must lead with a look, not just a growl. You must learn the Stare of the South."
Aiden, who at four was a ball of chaotic energy and sharp instincts, looked up from the floor, his blue-amber eyes blinking. "But Papa says the tiger doesn't stare. The tiger strikes."
"Your Papa is a warrior," Lorcan countered, his strawberry scent filling the room with a sugary authority. "But your... other Papa? The King? He rules with his mind. You must be both. Now, try again. Look at the soldier like he owes you a tax."
Arion, leaning against the doorframe, watched the scene with a heavy heart. He saw the way Lorcan looked at Aiden, with a mix of genuine affection and a strange, protective interest. It was a bond forming outside the shadows of the civil war, a childhood innocence that Arion desperately wanted to preserve, even as his own life felt like a decaying ruin.
***
Later that evening, the inevitable intersection of Arion and Kyon's lives occurred in the Grand Library. Kyon was seated at a low table, surrounded by maps of the Southern trade routes. He looked up as Arion entered, and for a fleeting second, the "butterflies" he had discovered in the nursery fluttered in his chest.
"The boys are finally asleep," Kyon said, his voice quiet, almost shy. He had learned not to use his commanding tone with Arion. "Lorcan is quite convinced he's going to turn Aiden into a diplomat by spring."
Arion didn't smile. He walked to a shelf, pulled down a ledger, and sat at the furthest possible table. "Lorcan is a distraction. One you permit because it keeps the Southern Isles at our table."
Kyon winced at the "our." It was the first time Arion had used a collective term, even if it was spiked with bitterness. "I permit it because Aiden is happy, Arion. Have you seen them? Aiden doesn't look at the guards anymore. He looks at Lorcan."
"He looks at Lorcan because he's a child who needs a friend," Arion snapped, finally looking at Kyon. The candlelight caught the fading yellow of the bruise on Arion's cheek. "Not because he's forgotten what this place is. Do not mistake his resilience for your victory."
Kyon stood up, the movement slow and non-threatening. "I don't seek victory over you anymore, Arion. I told you. I am just... I am trying to find a way to exist in the same room as you without feeling the weight of my own sins."
"Then leave the room," Arion replied coldly.
Kyon didn't leave. He took a hesitant step closer. "The Eastern Lords are asking for a progress report on the 'Unification Statement.' They want to know when the Consort will publicly affirm the King's lineage."
Arion's jaw tightened. "Tell them the Consort is still mourning his honor. They can wait."
"I told them the Consort is busy raising the next King," Kyon countered softly. "I told them your word is worth more than a thousand decrees, and I will not force it."
Arion paused, his hand hovering over the ledger. This was the new, "sincere" Kyon, the one who protected Arion's boundaries even at his own political expense. It was infuriating. It was easier when Kyon was a monster.
"Why are you doing this, Kyon?" Arion asked, his voice cracking with a sudden, weary frustration. "The logbook is right there. I could end you tomorrow. You know I have the evidence of the permanent stabilization. You know I could prove you are a biological traitor. Why aren't you afraid of me?"
Kyon looked at him, and for the first time, Arion saw the true, unmasked Alpha, the one who didn't need chemicals to show strength.
"Because if you destroy me, Arion, you'll be doing it to a man who finally knows he's a monster," Kyon said. "The King you hate is already dead. I killed him the day I held Aiden in the nursery. If you send that book, you're just executing a ghost. And if that's what you need to be free... then send it."
Kyon turned and walked toward the exit, his shadow long on the library floor. At the door, he stopped. "By the way, Lorcan asked if Aiden could visit the Southern Delegation's gardens tomorrow. I told him it was up to you. I won't be there. I have... 'King things' to attend to."
Arion watched him leave, the silence of the library feeling heavier than ever. He looked at his hand, the one that had bruised Kyon's jaw, and felt a strange, cold numbness. He was a warrior in a war where the enemy had stopped fighting back, and the victory felt more like a defeat every single day.