They didn't go far—just beyond the house, where the land dipped gently and the sky opened wide. The night was clear, the stars scattered thickly above them like spilled salt, brighter here than anywhere near the capital. The air smelled faintly of dried herbs and earth, familiar and grounding.
Rin sat on the grass with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. Alaric stood at first, as if unsure where he belonged, before finally lowering himself beside Rin at a careful distance. For a while, neither spoke. Only the chirping of insects and the soft rustle of leaves filled the silence.
"I know why you're upset," Alaric said at last.
Rin didn't look at him. "Do you?"
"Yes." Alaric's voice was steady, but Rin could hear the tension beneath it. "I decided things without you. Again. And I'm sorry for that."
Rin let out a quiet breath. He still didn't answer.
Alaric continued, turning his gaze up to the stars. "I won't make excuses. I should have consulted you first. I should have asked what you wanted, not what the nobles demanded." His fingers curled against the grass. "But… I need you to know this wasn't only about safety. Or politics. Or the children."
Rin finally glanced at him, just slightly.
"I can't imagine a future without you," Alaric said softly. "Without the twins. The thought of ruling alone, of returning to an empty chamber every night—it feels… unbearable."
Rin's chest tightened.
"I'm willing to accept your conditions," Alaric went on, urgency creeping into his tone. "All of them. I'll make you free, Rin. Truly free. If the rules suffocate you, then I'll change them. If the palace cages you, then we'll leave it behind whenever you wish. I don't want a queen who stands beside me out of obligation. I want you—as you are."
Rin stared at the ground, emotions churning so violently he felt dizzy. He hadn't expected this. He had prepared himself for arguments, for persuasion, for stubborn pride. Not this raw honesty. Not this willingness to bend.
"You're unfair," Rin muttered.
Alaric blinked. "Unfair?"
"Yes," Rin snapped weakly, voice cracking despite himself. "You say things like that so casually, as if you haven't already turned my life upside down."
He swallowed, hands trembling slightly as he clenched them into fists. "The truth is… I also don't like the idea of you being with someone else."
Alaric froze.
"I only realized it now," Rin continued, words spilling out faster, as if he didn't give himself time to stop. "At first, I hated you. I hated your arrogance. Your persistence. I hated how you barged into my life like you owned it."
Alaric lowered his gaze, expression dimming.
"I hated how the children got attached to you so quickly," Rin said, voice tight. "Even though I carried them. Even though I raised them. Even though it was just the three of us before."
Alaric's jaw clenched.
"And I hated," Rin added quietly, "that you changed."
Alaric looked up sharply.
"You weren't the same proud, untouchable prince anymore. You became… gentler. Softer. You stopped looking down on me." Rin laughed bitterly. "It ruined everything. Because I couldn't hate you anymore."
The silence between them grew heavy, thick with unspoken emotion.
"I got used to you," Rin said at last, barely above a whisper. "To your presence. Your stubbornness. I hate to admit it, but I always found myself waiting—wondering when you'd show up again."
Alaric's eyes widened.
"And I hate," Rin said, tears finally spilling over, "that I realized my feelings for you."
For a heartbeat, Alaric didn't move. Then his expression broke—relief, disbelief, joy crashing together so powerfully that he actually laughed once, breathless and stunned.
"Does that mean—" he started.
"Yes," Rin interrupted quickly, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, cheeks flushed. "I'm willing to be with you. I'm willing to marry—"
"Wait." Alaric suddenly scrambled to his feet.
Rin blinked. "What?"
Alaric looked around frantically, patting his pockets, then scanning the ground. "I—just—hold on."
Before Rin could react, Alaric bent down, picked up a small piece of smooth wood, and quickly wove a few tiny wildflowers around it. He dropped to one knee so abruptly Rin actually gasped.
"Alaric—what are you—"
Alaric held up the crude little ring, face flushed but eyes bright and earnest. "Rin. Would you be willing to marry me and stay by my side? I promise I'll make you happy. And our children. I swear it."
Rin stared at him.
Then he laughed—a soft, broken laugh that turned into quiet sobbing. "You look ridiculous," he said through tears.
"I know," Alaric said sheepishly. "I forgot the ring. I'm sorry. Please… deal with this one for now."
Rin reached out, fingers trembling, and took the little wooden ring. "You're unbelievable."
"So… is that a no?" Alaric asked anxiously.
Rin shook his head, smiling through tears. "Yes."
Alaric didn't wait another second. He stood and pulled Rin into his arms, holding him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. Rin let himself lean into the embrace, hands clutching Alaric's clothes.
Alaric pulled back just enough to cup Rin's face. "I'll make sure you never regret this," he said softly.
"You better," Rin replied, voice shaky but teasing. "Or I'll run away again."
Alaric smiled, then leaned in. Their lips met under the starlight—gentle at first, then deeper, full of promise and relief and everything they had survived to reach this moment.
By afternoon the next day, the chamberlain arrived, his presence drawing curious glances from the villagers. Rin stood beside the twins, Alaric already gone since morning—apparently to avoid further "scolding."Rin then greeted him calmly, already aware of why he had come. To his surprise, the man bowed respectfully—not just to him, but to his father as well.
Rin inclined his head. "I already know why you're here."
The man smiled faintly. "It seems someone informed you already."
"And," Rin added slowly, "you know my father."
The chamberlain glanced over and bowed again. "It is an honor to see you, sir. The duke speaks of you often."
Rin's father raised a brow but said nothing.
As they prepared to leave, Rin's father cleared his throat. "I'll go with them," he said gruffly. "If that's acceptable."
The chamberlain smiled. "Of course. After all, you are the duke's savior."
Goodbyes followed—tight embraces, quiet tears.
Lys clasped Rin's shoulders. "Don't disappear without a word again."
Rin smiled. "I won't."
As the carriage doors closed, Rin looked back once more at the village that raised him—then forward, toward a future he had never planned… but chose.