Aurein's POV
"Please, General Voltaire... agree to help me with what I want."
My voice trembled as I looked straight at him, heart pounding against my ribs.
But the moment his gaze hardened, I knew—
he was not pleased with what I had just asked.
"You don't understand what you're getting into, Prince Aurein," he said, his tone low, controlled. "I told you before what they truly are."
"I know," I replied quickly, refusing to look away. "That's exactly why I want to train like them. Let's be honest, General Voltaire—I'm not cut out to be like you. I'm not the typical warrior who's strong, broad-shouldered, intimidating, and... traditionally masculine."
I swallowed. "I'm more suited to them. To the Moon Dancers."
He shook his head slowly, as if the very idea frustrated him.
"General," I continued, leaning closer, "I thought you wanted me to learn how to protect myself whenever you're not beside me. The way the Moon Dancers move—the way they look frail but strike like lightning—that's something that could help me survive."
He exhaled deeply, the kind of sigh that carried both resignation and something unsaid.
"I cannot allow it, even if you believe it will benefit you," he said.
"Why?" My voice cracked.
"Just trust me," he said. "You won't be able to handle the reason why I refuse to let you train with them." His jaw tightened. "Now sleep. We have training tomorrow."
"But General... how do you expect me to sleep soundly when something could happen to our kingdom at any moment?" I argued.
"Don't think too much," he said, softer this time. "I'm here. And as long as I'm alive, no one will harm this kingdom. So stop worrying."
I released a long, defeated breath.
So that's it.
Training with the Moon Dancers... won't happen anytime soon.
"Go to sleep," he said. "If you show up tomorrow half-asleep and complain, you won't like the punishment I'll give you."
"You're evil," I muttered.
"Yes, I am," he said with a quiet grin—too soft, too gentle for the words he spoke.
"Just get out of my room," I snapped.
"Sleep well... my princess," he said teasingly.
"Get out!" I shouted.
He only shook his head, chuckling as he stepped out of the room.
The door closed.
Silence.
I sank down onto my bed, frustration swirling in my chest.
I thought—just this once—he would help me.
But no.
Was I supposed to depend on him forever?
Would he even save me again if something terrible happened?
He doesn't even understand how I feel.
Then I remembered...
Slowly, I lifted my fingers to my lips... pressing hard, rubbing the skin as if trying to erase the lingering sensation.
The place where his lips touched mine.
* * *
Voltaire's POV
The moment I stepped out of Prince Aurein's room, I closed the door slowly behind me—careful, as if even the faintest sound could shatter the fragile calm he was desperately clinging to.
He wanted to train as a Moon Dancer.
I knew he wanted it with all his heart...but I could never allow it.
I was stopping him from making a mistake that could never be undone.
A quiet breath slipped from me, barely audible.
My pulse hadn't calmed; it throbbed like a warning drum in my chest.
He had no idea what he was asking of me.
His voice echoed through my mind—
"I'm more suited to be one of them."
That single sentence struck deeper than any blade I'd ever taken.
Aurein...
Fragile?
Delicate?
Better off as one of them?
No.
He didn't understand what that path demanded.
What it took from a person.
What it erased long before training ever began.
He only saw their grace, their beauty, their silence. He never saw the price of being a moon dancer.
I dragged a hand over my face, attempting to rub away the burn behind my eyes. I reminded myself—Aurein wasn't insulting himself. He wasn't trying to run away from who he was.
He simply didn't know.
And gods... I couldn't tell him.
Not yet.
Not while he looked at me with those hopeful, trusting eyes.
If he learned the truth now, he would—
My jaw clenched.
He would break.
I leaned back against the cold stone wall of the corridor, closing my eyes against the weight inside my chest.
He thought I didn't care.
He thought I wouldn't save him next time, that's why he wanted this for himself.
He thought he was alone.
"If I allow you to step inside the Moon Dancer Pavillion," I whispered to the empty hallway, "I might not be able to feel you again. I would rather let you hate me than watch you destroy yourself."
Not because he would die.
But because he would no longer be the Aurein I knew.
And that was something I could never—ever—allow.
Slowly, unwillingly, I was becoming attached to him... like a vine tightening around its host.
Every day I spent with him, I learned something new about him.
And the more I learned, the more I became confused about myself.
That... accidental touch of our lips.
I acted like it meant nothing, like I didn't care.
But it struck me.
Harder and deeper than it should have.
In ways I never imagined possible.
Yet in the end, everything narrowed down to the same point.
He is a prince, and I am his general.
He is royalty, and I am a commoner.
He is a man... and so am I.
Every reason to stop.
Every reason to bury this madness before it devoured us both.
Whenever my thoughts dared wander toward the idea of love—or anything close to it—I forced myself to stop. This was forbidden. Dangerous. Something that could ruin him, not just me.
He was reckless, loud, dramatic, always complaining, too feminine, and endlessly stubborn—traits I reminded him of constantly, to the point he must be sick of hearing it.
But the more time I spent with him, the more I realized—
Those flaws were exactly what drew me in. More than any beautiful maiden I had ever met.
I straightened myself, pressing a palm to my chest, trying to steady the chaos inside.
I had duties.
A responsibility.
A dignity to uphold.
I couldn't let my heart destroy all of that just to put him in danger.
I was confused, yes... but I wasn't an idiot.
I wasn't numb.
I wasn't emotionless.
I felt everything.
And that was exactly why I had to hold everything back—contain it all—before it exploded.
I had to sacrifice these emotions while I still could. Before regret could ever take root. So I had to be the person he expected me to be.
General Voltaire.
The unshakable wall.
The protector.
The man who guided him, trained him, scolded him... but never revealed too much.
That was the version of me he needed to see.
Tomorrow, I would train him twice as hard. Push him until he had no breath left to argue. Until he forgot this ridiculous idea.
Until he stayed... safe.
"For the kingdom," I muttered. "For..."
But deep inside, I knew that was only half the truth. The other half—the one I refused to say aloud—
"...For Aurein."
"—Yes, I will stay here in the Central Region for the time being, Father," a voice said, growing closer down the hallway. "...Okay, I'll see you soon then."
Lord Rowan turned the corner—and froze the moment he saw me standing in front of Prince Aurein's door.
His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face.
Footsteps echoed faintly along the marble corridor, steady and unhurried. When I lifted my gaze, he was already approaching—smiling.
"Ah, I didn't know you were here. Still doing your responsibility as Aurein's personal guard?" he said with a pleasant smile as he stopped a few steps from me.
"King's order," I said.
He nodded, offering a look that pretended to be reassuring.
"Is Aurein asleep? Can I speak with him?" he asked.
"Yes. He is already sleeping," I said calmly. "You may tell me whatever message you wish him to hear. I will inform him the moment he wakes up for tomorrow's training."
"You're too strict tonight, General. A while ago, you were awfully casual with him," Rowan said.
"Does that bother you?" I asked.
"No, just... confused," he said gently, exhaling as if preparing for something heavier. "I just want you to know—between the two of us, Aurein and I share far more in common. We both come from royalty, and our statuses in this kingdom are not far apart."
His eyes sharpened.
"I'm not bragging. I rarely do. But I want to remind you of your place as a general of this kingdom. Aurein is a prince. Royalty. If we stripped you of your title as a General, you're simply a commoner. An ordinary citizen," he said. "Don't treat Aurein like someone you can step on. He will be the next king—someone you must obey and respect."
"Thank you for reminding me where I should place myself, Lord Rowan," I said, my tone flat and serious.
"I'm not picking a fight, General Voltaire," he continued. "But don't get in my way with Aurein. We were close—especially when we were children—and I expect we still will be. So don't overstep and act as if you must always stay by his side. Otherwise, you'll be dealing with me... and my word carries far more weight than yours."
"I admit," I said, "your word is more powerful than mine."
Then I lowered my voice—slow, quiet, deliberate.
Enough to make him feel it.
"But my sword is far more dangerous."
"Are you trying to threaten me?" he asked.
"Why? Are you scared?" I asked.
"I don't like the way you speak, General Voltaire."
"I wasn't expecting you to like it. I don't even like you, to be honest," I said quietly.
"So you're showing your true self then?" Rowan said, chuckling under his breath. "Perhaps you're one of those planning to rebel against Ardentia. Who knows? You're powerful enough to do it with just one strike."
"Yes," I said calmly. "I am powerful enough to do it... if I wanted to."
Slowly, I raised my gaze to him, letting silence weigh between us.
"But if I truly were an enemy of Ardentia," I said, "I wouldn't wait long. I would conquer everything... everyone... right here, right now. That is how powerful I am. So if you're thinking I am the enemy—think again."
He fell silent. Speechless.
"Do you still have anything to say, Lord Rowan?" I asked.
His jaw clenched. He wanted to punch me—he wasn't subtle about it.
But in the next breath, he exhaled and put on a soft, gentle smile—the same facade he reserved for Aurein.
"I have nothing else to say. It's clear now. You just revealed yourself to me, General Voltaire," he said quietly. "You are not to be trusted. I hope Aurein realizes that."
Before I could respond, the door creaked open.
Aurein stepped out—yawning so wide he forgot he was a prince, scratching his stomach lazily like a half-awake kitten.
"General Voltaire..." he said, then blinked when he saw Rowan. "Oh. You're here?"
"I was just about to visit you in your chamber... the one where we used to play before, just the two of us," Rowan said. Then he threw me a pointed look. "Without anyone else interfering."
"Why didn't you come in?" Aurein asked, puzzled.
"General Voltaire said you were already asleep. He didn't want you disturbed," Rowan said.
"Well, I was... and I was really sleepy—until I woke up as I heard some annoying people talking outside disturbing my peace," Aurein said. Then he turned to me, rubbing his eyes. "General Voltaire, I was about to ask if you can get me a jug of cold water."
I blinked at him.
"After you ignored what I wanted earlier, the least you can do is follow this one simple order," he said with irritation. "Hmp!"
Relief slipped through me.
This was the Aurein I preferred—dramatic and effortlessly dismissive, like a spoiled young noble disguising softness with annoyance.
"Alright," I said with a small smirk. "I'll get you ice-cold water. The kind that will chill you the moment you drink it."
Then I looked at Rowan deliberately.
"Do you want some as well... Lord Rowan?" I asked.
"No, I'm perfectly fine," he said with a polite smile.
"Hurry, General Voltaire. I'm thirsty. Go!" Aurein said as he shoved me away.
I chuckled and shook my head, finally turning to leave.
"What do you want to tell me, Rowan? Come inside my chamber and let's talk." Aurein asked behind me as I disappeared down the hall.
This was work meant for palace maids.
But I didn't mind.
If I fetched it, at least I knew it was safe to drink.
When I entered the kitchen, the cold air from the ice storage brushed against my arms. I approached the large container filled with water jugs nestled in ice. As I pulled one out, a soft voice drifted behind me.
"Oh. General Voltaire?"
Queen Crysta stood at the doorway, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise.
"I didn't expect to see you here in the palace kitchen... holding a jug of cold water," she said with a gentle chuckle. "This is the last place I thought I'd find you."
"Me neither, Your Majesty," I said with a small bow. "Prince Aurein asked me to get him cold water since he was thirsty."
"You didn't have to do this yourself," she said in confusion. "You could have ordered the female servants." She looked around, annoyed. "Where are they? They should be doing this, not you."
"It's alright, Queen Crysta. I had nothing else to do anyway," I said.
She sighed, though warmly, and gave me a soft, grateful smile.
"Thank you, General Voltaire," she said. "For being with Aurein. I know your duty as general of this kingdom does not include running errands like this... but you still do your best to take care of my son. I appreciate the extra service."
"It is an honor to receive your gratitude, Queen Crysta," I said.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Since you're here, I'd like to ask... how is Aurein doing in training? Is he performing well? Is he giving you headaches? I know he can be dramatic, and—"
She bit her lip, hating what she was about to admit.
"And he acts effeminate sometimes, which I truly dislike."
"No, everything is going well," I said. "He follows every step. And he performs impressively in sword training. He tries to keep up even when he knows his limits. He may not be strong or built like I am, but his mind... exceeds my expectations. Prince Aurein is brilliant—and that will be his greatest advantage."
Queen Crysta's face brightened.
"Thank you for telling me this. I feel relieved hearing such praise from you, General Voltaire," she said.
"You're welcome, Your Majesty," I said with a reassuring smile.
"I just have one favor to ask... if you wouldn't mind," she said softly.
"I will do whatever you request, Queen Crysta. Your orders carry the same weight as King Lucen's," I said.
She smiled—and nodded slowly.
"Please... bring the man out of Aurein. I want him to be something more masculine. Something... more like you. I want him to embody the true representation of a king—intimidating, commanding, noble. I don't want him focusing on pursuits that... I know will not be fit for him. I don't want to say it, because I don't want you to look down on him, but please..." she said softly.
I knew exactly what she meant. What the prince really wants.
His dream, to become one day, a part of the Moon Dancers.
She didn't have to say the word.
She couldn't.
"Prince Aurein will be more than fit to be Ardentia's next king," I said.
But in my mind, the truth remained unshaken. I could never "change" Aurein in the way she desired.
If she wished him to be stronger, then that I could do.
But to make him more masculine? To reshape him into some rigid ideal of being what a true man is?
No.
Aurein is perfectly fine as he is—bright, expressive, stubborn, sharp, and infuriating in all the ways that makes him unforgettable.
I only teased him about not being masculine enough because I enjoyed our bickering.
But to change his true identity?
His nature?
His softness, his fire, his contradictions?
Never.
That was exactly what drew me to him—and I intended to keep him exactly that way.
"Again, thank you, General. You may go now. He must be waiting for you already," Queen Crysta said.
"I will be on my way, Queen Crysta," I said and bowed before leaving with the jug of cold water.
When I returned to Aurein's chamber, I knocked once.
The door swung open immediately.
"What took you so long? I'm dying of thirst, do you even know that?" he said irritably, grabbing the jug from my hands.
"I spoke with your mother. I couldn't just ignore the queen," I said.
"Well? What did she say? Maybe she asked how I'm doing in training? Am I right?" Aurein asked eagerly before taking a long drink—"Aaahh! Refreshing."
I chuckled softly and shook my head.
At least he was back to his usual self.
I honestly thought he would still be sulking after I refused his request to train with the Moon Dancers.
I underestimated him.
"What? I'm waiting! What did you say about me to my mother?" he asked, brows drawn.
"I told her you were stubborn. That you never follow my orders. That you make me do servant tasks, like fetching your water, which is not part of my job," I said, keeping a straight face. "She was upset. She asked why you ordered me."
I did not tell him the truth—the praise, the pride, the compliments I gave him.
There was no need.
This version was far more interesting to keep our bickering alive.
"Maybe you're thrilled you're ruining my image to my mother," he said irritably. Then, with a sudden sigh, he held the jug out toward me. "Here. Drink."
"Wow. You're offering me a drink? From the same jug you drank from? Aren't you offended that a commoner might share the cup of royalty?" I teased.
"Are you drinking or not? You talk too much," he said, still offering it. "You should be thankful that I am offering this to you. Not that I care about you or anything."
"I'm good. I'm not thirsty," I said gently.
His expression softened for a moment—surprisingly gentle—but he quickly twisted it back into his bratty mask.
Unpredictable. Infuriating.
And impossibly captivating.
"What? You're thinking something about me again? Something bad? Are you making fun of me in your head?" he said aggressively, crossing his arms. "Don't you dare start a fight with me, General Voltaire! I already let it slide when you refused my favor, but I won't allow you to insult me in your thoughts! What exactly are you thinking about me, huh?"
My eyebrow twitched.
"What nonsense are you talking about? I haven't even said anything or done anything," I said. "Your imagination is traveling too far."
"Hmp! You're so annoying!" he said, stomping away as he placed the jug on the table. "If you get thirsty, drink from this."
He turned and marched to his bed, flopping down with another irritated huff.
"Okay," I said calmly, and I reached for the door to leave—
"Just rest here," he said suddenly, voice muffled, turned away from me. "Inside my chamber. For the night. You need to rest too."
A beat.
"Again, not that I care about you or anything," he added, defensive and childish.
A small laugh escaped me—quiet and helpless.
How can I actually control myself if he's like this? He was far too adorable for his own good.
"I'll stay outside. No need for me to rest here," I said.
"Hmp."
He burrowed under his blanket like a sulking child.
"Sleep tight, Princess Aurein," I whispered and teased.
"Hmp," he replied again, refusing to look at me.
I turned off the lights and slipped out of the room quietly, letting him rest.
Out in the corridor, I finally exhaled—long and slow.
Tell me—how could I not be interested in someone like him?
Someone who drives me insane and keeps me sane at the same time?
I have to resist...
But he makes resistance feel like an impossible task.
Still, we were fine.
We were back to normal.
And that was all that mattered.
I knew I hurt him when I refused his request.
But he was trying—truly trying—to show me he was strong.
And for that, I admired him deeply.
Would it be so wrong... to sleep beside him tonight?
Just to reconcile...
To ease his thoughts...
To keep him from overthinking himself into madness?
Perhaps.
But the temptation lingered like a flame refusing to go out.
* * *
Aurein's POV
I curled into my bed, hugging my pillow—
No... not my pillow.
His garment.
General Voltaire's garment, the one he still hadn't taken back.
The one I had kept... almost selfishly.
My fingers gently traced the fabric, stroking it as if it were something fragile, sacred. Moonlight spilled through my window, weaving silver across the cloth, turning it almost ethereal—like it carried a part of him. His scent still lingered faintly, warm and sharp, impossible to forget.
As I looked at the garment cradled to my chest, something inside me twisted—soft, needy, terrifying.
I wanted him here.
Beside me.
Sleeping on this bed... right next to me.
He was just outside my room, only a few steps away behind a wooden door—yet it felt like an entire kingdom separated us.
If I truly wanted to, I could command him to come sleep beside me. I was a prince. My word held weight. All I needed was to speak it.
But he would never agree.
He didn't want that.
He would scoff, look at me with those sharp eyes and say—
"Why would I sleep beside you? Are you a woman for me to share a bed with?"
I could practically hear his voice repeating it, teasing, mocking, piercing straight through my heart.
But gods... I wanted to feel his warmth.
Just once.
Just for tonight.
This is dangerous—this feeling that keeps growing inside my chest.
Dangerous because I can't stop it.
Dangerous because I don't know how to stop it.
Just imagining it... imagining us... is enough to cause chaos in this kingdom.
If my father ever discovered what I was beginning to feel—
Even in its early stages—he would forbid it instantly.
And worse...
It wouldn't just be forbidden.
It would be punishable.
Because this love—this thing blooming in the shadows—is a crime by every measure.
I am a prince, and he is my general.
I am royalty and he is a commoner.
He is a man and so am I.
Every line between us screams wrong.
Wrong in the eyes of the kingdom.
Wrong in the laws of Ardentia.
Wrong in everything I was taught to believe.
But...
But that accidental kiss...
It awoke something I didn't know existed inside me.
Something buried deep, long asleep, waiting for a moment—any moment—to spark.
And now... it's burning.
This feeling is new, unfamiliar, frightening—yet undeniably real.
And I am not an idiot.
I know exactly what this is.
I am starting to feel something for General Voltaire.
Something tender, dangerous, and impossibly beautiful.
I am starting to like him.
And worse...
I am starting to admire him... romantically.
Which is something I should never feel.
I must hide this.
Hide it where no one—not even him—can see it.
My heart must stay silent.
What terrifies me is this—
What if I can't stop and control myself? What happens then?
End of Chapter 14