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The council doors boomed shut behind them with a mournful groan of old oak bound in black iron, the sound reverberating through the stone like the tolling of a funeral bell.

Beyond the chamber, the corridor stretched long and austere, lit by braziers set along the walls. Their flames dancing in the draft, spilling molten gold across the cold gray stone and casting great, wavering shadows that climbed the vaulted ceiling like specters. 

Servants and lesser courtiers pressed themselves flat against the walls as Prince Rin strode past.

His back was straight as a spear shaft, his dark robes whispering over the floor, the silver dragon clasp at his throat glinting in the firelight. His face was carved as if some master sculptor had fashioned him from black marble and forgotten to grant him mercy.

Hiori followed a measured half-step behind, one hand resting near the pommel of his sword in the way of a sworn knight. 

Behind the thick doors, the voices of the council still rose in muffled uproar.

Three hours in the council chamber, and they had accomplished nothing but the bruising of egos.

For weeks, dark tidings had arrived from the southern coast.

Watchtowers had gone silent. Fishing villages had been found abandoned, their docks blackened and their boats reduced to floating ash. Merchants spoke in hushed tones of ships burning upon moonless waters and patrols that vanished without a trace.

That morning, the king’s scouts had returned with the worst of all possible news.

Edrath was preparing its dragon riders.

The moment the words were spoken, the council chamber had erupted like a nest of vipers disturbed.

“They test our resolve,” Lord Maeron had thundered, striking a jeweled hand against the table so hard the goblets rattled. “If we do not answer steel with steel, we invite them to our shores.”

“Steel?” Lord Corwyn had scoffed, his jowls trembling with indignation. “Winter approaches and you would spend ten thousand men to satisfy your wounded pride?”

“Better dead with swords in hand than living on our knees!”

The shouting had swelled until individual voices ceased to matter.

Cowards, fools, proud old men wrapped in velvet and gold, mistaking noise for wisdom, call them what you will.

At the head of the table, the king sat beneath the enormous skull of an ancient dragon, its yellowed fangs hanging over the chamber like the teeth of some slumbering god.

Age had etched itself upon his face. Silver threaded his beard, and there was a weariness in his eyes that no crown could conceal. He had said little, content to watch his lords devour one another.

To his right sat Crown Prince Sae, eldest son and heir, composed and measured as ever.

“We must not be the first to unsheathe the sword,” Sae had said, his voice calm enough to cut through the surrounding uproar. “Should we strike first, history will name us the aggressors.”

Across from him, Rin had leaned forward, teal eyes flashing like dragonfire.

“History is written by the living,” he said coldly. “The dead are afforded no titles.”

Sae’s jaw tightened, though his voice remained even. “And rashness has buried more kingdoms than caution ever has.”

“Caution?” Rin’s tone sharpened. “Edrath has moved its fleet into our waters and summoned its riders. Villages burn, and still you speak of patience.”

Then he rose, and the room fell silent all the same.

His hands rested upon the carved table, and even the oldest lords shrank from the force of his gaze.

“Edrath’s fleet is larger than ours,” He said, each word might as well have been a sword strike with how the council recoiled. “If war comes, it shall not begin at these walls. They will strike where we are weakest. The southern coast will burn first.”

Councilor Veres, gaunt and sharp-featured as a carrion bird, sneered from across the table.

“And how, your highness, are you so certain of this?”

Rin did not so much as turn his head. His answer came cool and without ornament, “Because it is what I would do.”

Beside the door, Hiori had turned away under the pretense of clearing his throat, hiding the laugh that threatened to escape him. 

The council feared Rin.

They would never dare speak the truth aloud, not in the king’s hearing and certainly not within the prince’s own. Instead, they cloaked their fear in all the fine courtesies of court.

They rose when he entered a chamber, and bowed low enough that their jeweled chains brushed the floor.

They addressed him as Your Highness in voices smooth as honey and praised his victories with wine-flushed enthusiasm during feasts. Minstrels sang of his campaigns. Lords boasted of serving beneath his banner.

Yet fear lived beneath every polished word and practiced smile.

Councilors seldom held his gaze for long, they would meet those striking teal eyes for a heartbeat, then look quickly elsewhere, as men do when staring too long at the edge of a precipice.

Servants scattered from his path with more speed than they did for the king himself.

Even seasoned knights, men who had stood in battle and seen comrades torn apart countless times, straightened when the second prince entered the yard.

For all his youth, there was something in him that set the blood to stirring. 

Rin was but two-and-twenty, and already there were many who whispered that no warrior of his generation could stand against him.

The tales began when he was sixteen.

A border skirmish in the Vale of Kareth had become a slaughter when Edrathi dragonfire engulfed the royal host. Three veteran commanders — men with decades of battle behind them — had frozen as men and horses alike burned screaming around them.

Rin, then little more than a boy at the time, had not awaited orders. He mounted Nyracs without leave and flew straight into the inferno.

Archers filled the sky with arrows. The valley below was a furnace of smoke and blood.

Hiori had heard the stories from soldiers who survived that day. They spoke of Nyracs falling from the clouds like the judgment of the gods, her roar so fierce that enemy horses reared and threw their riders.

Rin landed amidst the carnage and dragged wounded men onto her back with his own hands.

When he returned to the capital, half his armor had melted and fused to his flesh. The damage was so severe the maesters were forced to cut the blackened steel from his skin.

That same day, though Nyracs was not yet fully grown, she seized an enemy dragon in her claws and tore it from the heavens. Its corpse was found miles away, broken upon the rocks.

At seventeen, Rin entered a tournament held in honor of foreign envoys.

The reigning swordmaster of the realm, Ser Taegan the Unbroken, had laughed openly when he saw his youthful opponent.

“Shall I go gently on you, princeling?” the old knight had asked loudly before the crowd.

Rin had drawn his blade and replied, “As you wish.”

Four minutes later, Ser Taegan knelt in the dust with Rin’s sword at his throat.

At nineteen came the Pirate War.

Corsairs from the western sea descended upon the kingdom’s trade routes, burning merchant vessels and threatening to choke the capital with hunger. The king’s admirals spoke of a long and costly campaign.

Rin ended it before dawn.

Hiori remembered that night as clearly as if it were yesterday.

He had stood atop the sea cliffs with the wind whipping his hair and watched storm clouds boil across the horizon. 

When Nyracs descended she plunged from the heavens like divine wrath given scale and wing, and the sea itself caught fire.

Her flames were so hot they burned blue-white upon the water, floating atop the waves like molten stars. Pirate ships splintered beneath her claws as though they were mere children’s toys, their masts snapping and their hulls bursting into showers of sparks.

The storm drowned out the screams.

By sunrise, nothing remained but drifting wreckage and blackened timber washing ashore.

The sailors gave Nyracs a new name thereafter.

The Sea Blazer.

It spread from harbor to harbor, carried in hushed voices over cups of rum and in taverns thick with smoke.

And then there had been the rebellion.

Even now, two years later, courtiers lowered their voices when speaking of it.

The eastern territories had withered beneath the grip of famine.

The rains failed, and fields turned to dust. Grain stores stood empty while children starved in the streets and mothers buried them in frozen earth. Desperation curdled swiftly into rage. Riots erupted in market squares. Storehouses were broken open by mobs with hollow cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Tax collectors were hanged from their own wagons.

When the crown could not restore order quickly enough, several powerful noble houses saw opportunity in the kingdom’s weakness, and they were quick to raise their banners. 

What began as unrest became open defiance.

Castles barred their gates against royal messengers. Towns burned. Armed men roamed the countryside beneath rebel colors, seizing roads and storehouses in the name of “protecting the people.”

In truth, most sought only power.

Some declared the king too old and indecisive to rule. Others whispered that the realm required stronger hands. 

A few spoke openly of forcing Crown Prince Sae onto the throne before his father’s death.

It was an attempt to fracture the royal family itself.

In the capital, the king urged patience. He wished to negotiate with the rebel lords, to hear their grievances and offer terms.

Sae, ever measured and dutiful, counseled diplomacy. “A kingdom once divided by blood does not soon heal,” he had said before the council. “If peace may be bought with words, then words are cheaper than war.”

The council argued for days.

Some demanded immediate executions. Others pleaded for compromise.

All the while, smoke rose over the eastern horizon.

Entire villages were reduced to ash before the lords in the capital had finished debating which seal to place upon which parchment.

Rin endured precisely two days of it.

On the dawn of the third, he said nothing to the council, sought no leave from his father, and offered no explanation.

He strode to the dragon chambers where Nyracs awaited him.

The great she-dragon unfurled her wings with a sound like thunder rolling across the earth. Lightning-white markings shimmered beneath her scales, and smoke curled from her nostrils as if she already tasted the battle to come.

Before the sun had fully risen, they were airborne.

Word traveled faster than ravens.

By dawn the following day, Nyracs appeared above the rebels’ principal stronghold: the mountain fortress of House Delmar.

Those who witnessed her descent swore the sky itself vanished.

Her wings spread so wide they swallowed the morning sun, plunging the fortress into shadow. The air grew hot. Horses screamed and tore free of their tethers. Men dropped spears and fell to their knees.

Nyracs landed upon the outer wall, and stone exploded beneath her weight.

Cracks raced through the battlements like lightning across glass. Her white markings blazed against her green teal scales, and smoke drifted in slow coils from between teeth longer than daggers.

One gout of flame would have reduced the stronghold to molten ruin.

Everyone knew it.

But when Rin dismounted, he wore no helmet, no drawn sword hung at his side and not even a shield guarded his chest.

He approached the gates alone, dressed in dark riding leathers still warm from the dragon’s back, and passed beneath the shadow of Nyracs without so much as a backward glance.

The gates opened and closed behind him.

What transpired within the fortress walls remains one of the realm’s most enduring mysteries.

No servants overheard the exchange, and no guards dared repeat what they saw.

Rin himself never spoke of it.

Neither did the rebel lords. By nightfall, their banners had been torn down, and the gates stood open.

One by one, the leaders of the rebellion emerged to kneel in the mud before the prince and swear renewed fealty to the crown.

Three lords renounced their titles entirely and entered exile before the week was out.

The rebellion ended in a single day wth words spoken behind closed doors by a twenty-year-old prince who had entered unarmed and left with an entire uprising bent to his will.

After that, the council never looked upon Rin in quite the same way.

For power, in itself, was not uncommon.

Kings possessed power.

Armies possessed power.

Dragons possessed power.

But Rin wielded something far more unsettling.

Absolute control.

He did not shout. He did not boast. He did not threaten.

He merely spoke, and men who commanded thousands set aside their crowns, their castles, and their ambitions.

If Prince Rin ever chose to claim the throne by force, there existed no strength in the realm capable of denying him.

Not the royal guard.

Not the armies of the crown.

Not the other dragon riders.

Not even the king himself would be able to withhold the kingdom from his son.

Especially not with Nyracs at his side.

For if Prince Rin was feared, Nyracs was something far more terrible still.

She was the largest dragon in the realm, vast enough to make castle towers seem like children’s toys. When she unfurled her wings, their shadow swept across courtyards and training fields alike, and men instinctively looked to the sky with the same dread sailors reserve for gathering storms.

Her scales were a dull teal green that looked like the water from the coves that surrounded the kingdom, and the tips of the many spikes around her body were yellow, like they had been dipped in poison. Across her neck, flanks, and immense wings ran jagged markings of brilliant white, as though lightning itself had been trapped beneath her skin. In darkness, those markings glimmered faintly, lending her the appearance of some creature forged of thunder.

When she breathed, heat shimmered in the air around her jaws. When she roared, windows rattled in their frames and horses reared in terror.

And when she fixed her great orange eyes upon a man, many found themselves unable to breathe.

Though not yet ancient by the reckoning of dragons, there was something profoundly old in her bearing.

The few people who had tended to her swore she understood every word spoken in her presence. The dragonkeepers, men who had devoted their lives to studying such creatures, crossed themselves and said she understood more than most lords of the court.

Hiori believed it.

He had seen Nyracs regard certain councilors with the same cold disdain Rin himself wore in council, as though she had already judged.

But if Nyracs possessed intelligence, she also possessed a devotion so fierce it bordered on the unnatural.

Her loyalty belonged to one soul and one soul alone.

Rin.

To all others, she was a force to be respected and feared.

To him, she was terrifyingly obedient, but not with the obedience of a beast broken to reins and spurs.

Something far deeper, akin to love. It was as though the two had been carved from the same storm.

Hiori had witnessed their bond more times than he could count, yet it never ceased to unsettle him.

Rin rode without saddle or harness, seated upon the great dragon’s neck as though born there. He issued no shouted commands, made no dramatic gestures. At times, he scarcely seemed to move at all.

And still Nyracs obeyed.

A slight turn of his shoulders, and she banked through clouds and arrow-fire with impossible grace.

The narrowing of his eyes, and dragonflame erupted exactly where his gaze fell.

The tightening of his muscles, and her claws struck in the same instant.

In battle, they did not appear as rider and mount, they appeared as one creature divided into two bodies.

Hiori had seen veteran soldiers drop to one knee as Nyracs descended overhead, not out of reverence, but because some ancient instinct deep within them recognized they were standing in the presence of a predator beyond human comprehension.

The council feared that bond more than any army.

For armies could be bribed.

Knights could be bought.

Even dragons, in theory, could answer to others who weren’t their riders.

But Nyracs answered only to Rin.

And Rin answered to no one save his own conscience.

That was the truth that haunted the council chambers and whispered through the halls of the castle.

One day, perhaps, the prince might tire of being overruled by cautious old men in velvet robes.

One day he might decide that patience had become a weakness.

One day he might cease asking permission.

And if that day ever came, Nyracs would spread her wings, the sky would darken, and the stones of the kingdom would glow red with heat.

And the realm, from its highest tower to its most distant fishing village, would burn.

By the time the council was dismissed, nothing of consequence had been decided.

The lords had argued until their throats were raw and their wine cups empty, only to settle upon the sort of timid compromise men favor when they fear the cost of decisive action.

Additional patrols would be dispatched, and the high riders stationed in distant keeps would be summoned back to the capital.

Cowardly half-measures in Hiori’s opinion.

He followed a respectful half-step behind the prince.

He had served Rin long enough to know the signs. The way the prince’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly when anger threatened to rise was one key sign.

When Rin wore such a face, wiser men held their tongues.

So Hiori said nothing.

They passed through the winding halls of the royal keep as dusk settled over the castle. The last light of day bled across the narrow windows in streaks of crimson and violet, staining the stone as though the sky itself had been wounded.

When they reached the prince’s chambers, a young servant stepped forward at once to open the doors.

Rin dismissed her with the barest flick of his fingers.

She bowed and withdrew without a word.

The doors shut behind them with a muted thud, sealing them away from the noise and ceremony of court.

Rin crossed the chamber without removing his cloak. Dark fabric streamed behind him as he moved through the candlelit room and out onto the balcony overlooking the sea.

Night was gathering over the water.

Far below, waves hurled themselves against the black cliffs with a violence that sent plumes of white spray into the air. The wind carried the sharp scent of salt and rain, tugging at their hair and cloaks. Beyond the mist, the sea stretched into an endless expanse of iron-gray darkness.

Rin set both hands upon the weathered stone balustrade and stared into the gathering dark.

In a voice low and edged with contempt, he spoke. “They prattle of war as though it were already won.”

Hiori came to stand beside him, hands behind his back as he too stared into the dark.

“The council has never seen a battlefield,” he said. “Victory is easily imagined by men who need not wade through the dead to claim it.”

A bitter sound escaped Rin, scarcely more than a growl. “They would send boys to die and call it wisdom.”

The wind stirred his dark hair, lifting strands across his brow. In the fading light, his profile seemed carved from obsidian.

Hiori turned to look at him rather than the sea. “You are not one of those boys.”

Rin’s fingers tightened against the stone until his knuckles whitened.

“No,” he said. “I am the one they expect to lead them. And survive it.”

Below, birds cried over the surf, their voices thin and mournful.

Hiori’s expression softened, though his answer came without hesitation.

“You will.”

At last, Rin turned his head. His teal eyes, bright even in the encroaching dusk, settled upon Hiori with quiet intensity.

“You sound certain.”

“I am.”

Rin studied him for a long moment. “And if your certainty proves foolish?”

Hiori inclined his head, as solemn as a knight swearing his vows.

“Then I shall be a foolish man.”

For an instant, the corner of Rin’s mouth twitched. It was not quite a smile, but it was close enough to victory.

Hiori stepped closer, his boots whispering against the stone.

“For a prince destined to command armies and dragons,” he said, his tone light with practiced irreverence, “you are a remarkably joyless creature.”

Rin did not look his away. “There is war upon the horizon.”

“Yes,” Hiori said gravely, nodding as though imparting some great secret. “I heard troubling rumors.”

Rin exhaled through his nose, and despite himself, the faintest trace of amusement touched his features.

“Must you make a mockery of every matter?”

Hiori tilted his head, blue eyes gleaming in the twilight.

“My prince,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer register, rich with affection, “if I cannot steal a smile from you on the eve of war, then I am failing in my most sacred duty.”

The levity in his voice faded, softening into something quieter and infinitely more dangerous.

He turned fully toward Rin, the wind lifting pale strands of hair across his brow, his blue eyes luminous in the gathering dusk.

“You know this well enough,” he murmured. “There is nothing you might ask of me that I would refuse.”

Rin’s hands remained braced upon the weathered stone of the balcony, his gaze fixed upon the darkening horizon where sea and sky bled into one another.

When he spoke, his tone was deceptively light, though Hiori knew him too well to miss the gravity beneath it.

“Anything?”

The single word hung between them like a drawn blade.

Rin turned his head only slightly, enough that the teal of his eyes caught the last dying light.

“And if I commanded you to set this city to the torch?” he asked. “If I told you to reduce this kingdom to ash, would you obey me then?”

Hiori answered without so much as a breath’s hesitation.

“If you asked it of me, this city would burn before dawn.”

His voice was as unshakable as stone. He stepped closer, resting one gloved hand atop the cold balustrade beside Rin’s.

“You need only speak the word,” he said, his gaze never wavering. “And by sunrise, all that stands before us would be nothing but smoke and dust under your boot.”

The words ought to have sounded absurd.

A dramatic sort of devotion Hiori so often employed to coax Rin from his brooding.

A pretty declaration. A lover’s exaggeration.

Yet there was no mischief in his expression, no laughter lurking behind his eyes.

The wind passed between them, carrying the scent of rain and salt and distant storms.

Hiori stood as he always did, with easy posture, composed in manner, and utterly unwavering.

Rin was the first to look away. “You speak such things with troubling ease.”

Hiori leaned one hip against the stone rail, his mouth curving into the faintest suggestion of a smile.

“Would you rather have me take time to consider?”

“I would have you display some measure of sense.”

Hiori gave a soft, unrepentant shrug.

“My prince, if I possessed good sense, I would never have fallen in love with you.”

That drew a quiet breath from Rin, something very near a laugh, though too burdened to become one.

Still, the shadow remained in his eyes. He turned once more to the sea, his expression unreadable.

The truth was simple, any man could swear fealty.

The court teemed with lords who bent the knee, pressed jeweled hands to their hearts, and pledged eternal loyalty in voices thick with reverence.

Most would sell those vows for a richer title, a larger holding, or the promise of their own survival.

Oaths were cheaper than a loaf of bread.

But Hiori had followed him into battle countless times, had stood beneath dragonfire without flinching, and looked upon the darkest parts of him and remained.

And yet some quiet, wounded corner of Rin still wondered.

If the realm turned against him, would Hiori remain at his side? If loyalty to Rin demanded treason against the crown, would he still choose him?

If loving him meant a death both certain and terrible, would he falter?

Hiori studied him for a long moment, as though reading each thought as plainly as words inked upon parchment.

Then, as ever, he answered the question Rin had not spoken aloud.

His mouth curved into that maddeningly familiar grin.

“You do not believe me.”

Rin kept his gaze fixed upon the sea. “I said no such thing.”

“Ah, yes,” Hiori said solemnly. “A most convincing denial.”

He straightened with theatrical dignity, placing one hand over his heart as though making an oath before the throne itself.

“Shall I saddle Vaelith this very night and set a few villages ablaze?” he asked. “Only so that Your Grace may be assured of my sincerity.”

At that, Rin turned to him fully, one dark brow arching.

“You would destroy my kingdom merely to prove your devotion?”

Hiori did not so much as blink. “If necessity demands it.”

For a heartbeat, Rin stared at him.

Then, at last, the corner of his mouth lifted. “You are a fool.”

Hiori’s answering smile was radiant and utterly unashamed.

“My prince,” he said with exquisite indignation, “you cut me to the bone.”

The gesture was theatrical, as always, but the offense in his voice was so artfully feigned that for a fleeting moment, he might have been an actor before a royal audience rather than a knight standing upon a windswept balcony.

Rin shook his head. The movement was slight, but at last the severe line of his mouth softened. A shadow of a smile touched his lips, brief and elusive as moonlight upon water.

The teasing curve of Hiori’s mouth faded. The laughter in his eyes gentled into something quieter and infinitely more sincere.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost all pretense.

“My loyalty ceased to belong to the crown long ago,” he said softly. “It belongs to you, and to you alone.”

There was no flourish in the words.

Only the plain truth.

Or something so profoundly like truth that Rin found himself unable to dismiss it.

Hiori reached for Rin’s hand.

He did so with a gentleness that stood in stark contrast to the strength in his sword arm, his fingers warm and steady as they enclosed Rin’s.

Then he lifted the prince’s hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of it.

“I would gladly see the world reduced to ash,” he murmured against his skin, “if the sight of it brought you joy.”

The words settled in Rin’s chest like fire.

The coming war, the council, the weight of the crown, all of it fell away.

There was only the warmth of Hiori’s hand around his own and the reverent touch of his lips.

No one else in the realm would dare speak to him in such a manner. No courtier would offer ruin as though it were a bouquet of roses.

No knight should place devotion above kingdom, crown, and life itself.

Yet Hiori spoke the promise as simply as another man might say, I am yours.

The wind lifted pale strands of his hair, and beneath the first emerging stars they gleamed like threads of silver. His expression remained open and ever affectionate.

His eyes held quiet certainty of a man who had already made his choice and would not make another.

As though neither gods nor kings nor dragons could pry him away.

Rin’s fingers tightened around Hiori’s. The pressure was slight, but it betrayed more than any spoken confession.

“You are a dreadful liar,” he said at last, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

Hiori blinked, genuinely taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

Rin stepped closer.

The distance between them narrowed until scarcely a breath remained.

The moonlit sea raged below, but the prince’s attention was fixed entirely upon the man before him.

“You would have me believe this is done for my sake,” Rin murmured, his teal eyes gleaming in the dusk. “When in truth, you would burn the world because you are hopelessly fond of dramatics.”

Hiori laughed, the sound was low and warm and achingly familiar, as comforting to Rin as the crackle of a hearth after battle.

“That,” Hiori admitted, his smile returning, “is also true.”

Rin shook his head, though the gesture lacked all former severity. The tightness in his shoulders began to ease.

For hours, he had endured the council’s endless bickering, listening as powerful men weighed lives against ledgers and spoke of war as though it were no more consequential than a game of cyvasse.

With every argument, the burden upon him had grown heavier.

Prince.

Commander.

Dragon rider.

The realm’s sharpest sword.

But here, beneath the stars and the cry of the sea, with Hiori’s hand in his own, he was none of those things.

He was only Rin.

A man.

A tired one.

Hiori’s thumb brushed slowly across his knuckles, a touch so tender it seemed to quiet every restless thought in Rin’s mind.

“You are thinking too much again,” Hiori said, his voice soft as velvet.

“And you,” Rin replied, “continue to think far too little.”

The corner of his mouth curved. A true smile this time, small but unmistakable.

Hiori’s gaze dropped to Rin’s lips.

The look was brief, but impossible to misunderstand. When he raised his eyes once more, he did not move.

No matter how many times they had shared this closeness, Hiori never presumed. The choice was always Rin’s.

It was one of the countless reasons Rin trusted him with far more than his heart.

He lifted his free hand. His fingers brushed Hiori’s cheek, tracing the familiar line of his jaw.

The man who would, with absolute sincerity, set the world aflame if asked, and who would just as willingly stand in the ashes beside him.

“You are insufferable,” Rin said.

His voice had gone quiet, the sharpness in it worn away until the words sounded more like an endearment spoken in a language only the two of them understood.

Hiori leaned into the hand cupping his cheek, turning his face just enough to press a fleeting kiss to Rin’s palm.

“And yet,” he murmured, his breath warm against Rin’s skin, “you continue to keep me around.”

The endless arguments, the maps strewn across oak tables. The lords speaking of fleets and casualties and burned coastlines as if they were discussing weather.

The coming war.

The burden of command.

All of it dissolved like mist before the sun.

There was only Hiori.

Rin closed the final distance between them and kissed him.

Hiori gave a soft, surprised sound — barely more than a breath — as though even after all this time he remained delighted each time Rin chose him.

His hands slid to Rin’s waist, firm and familiar, drawing him near until there was no space left between them.

Hiori tasted faintly of the red wine served at supper and the salt carried on the sea wind.

Hiori kissed as he loved: with his whole heart.

There was no hesitation in him. Only the warmth of certainty, and devotion so open and unashamed that it left Rin almost dizzy.

He poured affection into every touch, every breath, every lingering press of his lips, as though he wished to remind Rin that whatever storms gathered beyond the horizon, he would not face them alone.

When they finally parted, neither withdrew fully, their breaths mingled in the cool night air.

Below them, the sea crashed ceaselessly against the cliffs, dark and restless beneath a sky now nearly swallowed by night. Clouds drifted before the moon, and silver light spilled across the balcony stones in shifting patterns of shadow and gleam.

Hiori’s hands remained at Rin’s waist.

His fingers moved in slow, soothing circles over the small of his back, as if he could ease away every burden the prince refused to name.

“There,” he whispered, his lips curving against Rin’s. “You see? That is a far better use of your mouth.”

The remark was so quintessentially Hiori that a laugh escaped Rin before he could contain it.

Hiori’s smile brightened with unconcealed triumph.

“Ah,” he said, as though observing a rare celestial event. “And here I feared the council had replaced you with a handsome statue.”

Rin opened his eyes to take in the knight who would mount his dragon and follow him into fire, who would laugh in the face of kingdoms and kneel only to him.

The one soul in all the world before whom Rin did not need to be anything other than what he was.

The sea thundered below. Far above, clouds parted, and moonlight washed over them in silver.

He inclined his head toward the open sky. “Come,” he said, his voice low and touched with a softness he offered to no one else.

Hiori’s smile returned at once, bright with mischief and unmistakable affection.

“Now,” he said, straightening with theatrical interest, “that is the most encouraging command I have received all day.”

Rin ignored the comment entirely.

He stepped onto the balcony bannister as though standing several hundred feet above jagged cliffs and violent sea winds was the most natural thing in the world.

Below them, waves crashed against the rocks in white bursts of foam. The ocean stretched endless and black beneath the night sky, clouds hanging low over the water like drifting smoke.

Rin drew in a slow breath and whistled.

The sound cut sharp through the darkness, clear and commanding. Carrying over the roar of the sea itself.

Beside him, Hiori answered with one of his own, lower in pitch but no less piercing.

The wind swept violently around the balcony, tugging at their clothes and carrying the scent of saltwater and distant rain. Somewhere far below, the surf battered against the cliffs in a relentless rhythm.

Then the darkness moved and something enormous shifted within the mist hanging over the sea.

Hiori felt it before he fully saw it, a familiar pressure settling into the air, ancient and immense enough to make the balcony stones tremble faintly beneath his boots.

Nyracs emerged first, the clouds seeming to tear apart around her.

One moment the horizon was nothing but fog and darkness, and the next an enormous shape burst through the mist with terrifying speed, wingbeats thunderous enough to shake the castle walls.

Moonlight spilled across dark teal scales, each one gleaming like wet armor. Pale markings stretched across her wings in jagged streaks, glowing faintly silver-white against the night like cracks of lightning trapped beneath skin.

Smoke curled lazily from her nostrils. Her eyes burned molten orange.

Massive wings spread wide enough to swallow moonlight itself as she swept toward the balcony in a sharp dive. The force of her passing sent a violent gust crashing over them, nearly wrenching Hiori backward.

Nyracs surged past the balcony without landing, enormous body moving with horrifying grace despite her size.

Rin stepped off the edge. For one impossible heartbeat, he simply fell. Dark robes snapped violently around him as the sea opened far below.

Then Nyracs twisted beneath him with breathtaking precision.

The prince landed against her spine as smoothly as breathing itself, boots finding purchase between dark scales.

The dragon climbed sharply at once, carrying him skyward as though the two of them had never truly been separate creatures to begin with.

Hiori exhaled a quiet laugh beneath his breath. He would never grow tired of watching them together.

There was something deeply unfair about the sight. The way Rin stood balanced against Nyracs’ back with impossible ease, dark hair torn loose by the wind while the dragon moved beneath him like an extension of his own body.

The sky itself seemed to bend around them.

A familiar roar suddenly echoed upward from beneath the cliffs making Hiori’s grin widened instantly.

“Well,” he called. “There you are.”

Another shape burst upward from the darkness below.

Vaelith rose from the sea mist like something pulled from the depths themselves, sleek and fluid where Nyracs was overwhelming.

Dark blue scales shimmered nearly black beneath the moonlight, broken only by scattered golden markings glittering across his body like flecks of starlight trapped beneath water. His pale blue eyes reflected the night sky as he climbed toward the balcony in a smooth spiral.

Unlike Nyracs’ terrifying presence, Vaelith moved with almost playful elegance.

The dragon’s gaze locked immediately onto Hiori. A low rumbling trill left his throat.

Hiori barked a laugh. “Oh, don’t look at me like that.”

Vaelith narrowed his eyes slightly.

“I was occupied.”

The dragon made another sound, suspiciously resembling disapproval.

“Oh, now you’re judging me?” Hiori placed a hand on the bannister, leaning over it. “After all these years together?”

Vaelith swooped closer.

At the last second, enormous claws hooked effortlessly over the balcony’s stone edge with a harsh scrape of metal-like talons against rock. The impact rattled the railing beneath Hiori’s boots.

The dragon lowered himself slightly, wings still spread wide against the night.

Hiori stepped forward, laughter still lingering in his voice as he grabbed one curved horn for balance and hauled himself onto Vaelith’s back..

The instant Hiori settled between Vaelith’s shoulders, the dragon moved.

Power coiled beneath sleek muscle as Vaelith threw himself from the balcony, massive wings unfurling wide enough to swallow the tower in shadow. The stone vanished beneath them so suddenly Hiori’s stomach dropped clean into the sea below.

Then the dragon caught the wind and the world opened.

Cold air slammed into Hiori hard enough to steal the breath from his lungs, tearing through his hair and snapping his cloak violently behind him. Below, the castle fell away at dizzying speed, its towering spires shrinking into gold-lit needles against the black cliffs.

The ocean stretched outward in every direction, vast and dark and alive, moonlight carving silver veins through the restless water.

Nothing on earth compared to this.

Vaelith let out a deep, exhilarated rumble beneath him as he climbed higher, wings slicing cleanly through the night air.

Above them, Nyracs circled once against the clouds.

Moonlight washed over her dark teal scales in flashes as she turned, markings glowing faintly across her wings. She looked less like a living creature and more like a storm given shape.

Then she folded her wings and dove.

Hiori barked out a laugh at the maneuver.

Rin glanced back over one shoulder.

Moonlight caught sharply against teal eyes and dark hair whipped loose by the wind. Even from this distance, Hiori could see the faint curve pulling at the prince’s mouth.

Nyracs roared, the sound rolled across the sky like distant thunder.

Vaelith answered instantly, his own cry sharper and wilder as he lunged forward beneath Hiori.

Nyracs tore through the heavens with terrifying speed, massive wings beating hard enough to scatter entire banks of clouds apart. Mist exploded around her as she cut through the night sky like an arrow loose from a god’s bow.

Vaelith surged after her, faster than dragons his size had any right to be.

The sea wind screamed around them. Hiori flattened lower instinctively as Vaelith dove, powerful muscles shifting beneath him with every beat of his wings.

Laughter ripped from Hiori’s chest before he could stop it.

Below, the ocean churned violently beneath the force of dragon wings. Water erupted into massive spirals where downdrafts struck the sea, moonlight breaking apart across the waves in shattered silver.

Ahead, Nyracs twisted sharply through the air, frankly it should have been impossible for something her size to move like that.

She rolled sideways with terrifying grace, one enormous wing nearly skimming the water before she pulled upward again in a violent climb.

Rin had one hand rested lightly against the dragon’s neck while the other spread for balance as he stood atop the beast’s back, dark robes snapping behind him like torn banners.

‘Show off.’ Hiori narrowed his eyes. “That’s insulting!”

Vaelith rumbled beneath him in immediate agreement.

Together they lunged forward. The distance between dragons vanished rapidly.

Vaelith snapped playfully toward Nyracs’ tail as they swept past one another, teeth flashing silver in the moonlight.

At the last possible second, Nyracs jerked upward with a deep growl that sounded suspiciously smug.

Vaelith missed by inches.

Hiori patted his dragon’s neck with sympathy. “She learned that from you!”

Rin’s laughter carried faintly through the wind, just as rare and beautiful as it was dangerous to Hiori’s sanity.

The dragons wheeled through the clouds like dancers instead of weapons of war.

Creatures capable of burning kingdoms to ash reduced to something wild and playful beneath the stars. Massive wings brushed mist apart in elegant spirals while claws that could rip through fortress walls reached teasingly for one another mid-flight.

Vaelith banked sharply left and Nyracs rolled after him.

Hiori leaned low against dark blue scales as they cut through a wall of cloud so dense the world vanished entirely into white mist.

When they bursted through the top of it moonlight flooded everything.

The clouds stretched endlessly below them like a silver sea, glowing softly beneath the stars. Above, the night sky opened vast and endless, scattered with constellations that seemed close enough to touch.

Nyracs burst upward beside them moments later.

Hiori could see Rin clearly.

Wind-whipped dark green hair, skin silvered beneath moonlight, cold eyes softened by exhilaration.

For a few precious moments, there was nothing else.

No war waiting on the horizon. No council chamber thick with fear and politics. No kingdom pressing its weight onto Rin’s shoulders.

Just the four of them suspended above the world itself.

Nyracs suddenly banked hard to the left.

Hiori barked out a laugh. “Coward!”

Rin lifted one hand without looking back and made an unmistakably rude gesture.

Hiori nearly lost his mind laughing. “Such vile behavior from royalty!”

Vaelith shrieked indignantly beneath him and launched after the larger dragon with renewed fury.

The chase carried them farther from the kingdom than Hiori realized.

The coastline slowly changed beneath them, castle lights disappearing behind jagged stretches of untouched cliffs. Black stone rose violently from the sea in towering formations while waves exploded below them.

Nyracs descended first upon a hidden stretch of coast known mostly to dragon riders and smugglers.

Her claws struck the cliffside with enough force to shake the earth beneath them. Stone cracked beneath her weight as her wings spread wide for balance, moonlight gleaming across vast scales.

Vaelith landed moments later beside her in a smoother, lighter descent, claws scraping against rock as he folded his wings neatly against his sides.

The wind howled around them. Below, the sea crashed endlessly against the cliffs.

Rin rested one hand briefly against Nyracs’ jaw before stepping away from her. The dragon lowered her massive head into the touch, smoke curling softly from between her teeth as her glowing eyes followed him across the cliffside.

Rin turned toward the edge of the world.

The wind came screaming off the sea hard enough to whip his dark robes behind him like torn banners, carrying salt spray and the distant scent of rain. Loose strands of dark green hair lashed across his face as he approached the cliff’s edge and lowered himself onto the cold stone, boots hanging over the drop.

Far below the ocean stretched endlessly before them, dark and immense beneath the moonlight, silver painted across its surface in broken ribbons wherever the water caught the sky.

Hiori watched him quietly for a moment before moving to join him.

Stone scraped softly beneath his boots as he sat beside Rin, he leaned back on his hands, gaze lifting toward the stars overhead.

Behind them, the dragons prowled across the cliffs like living storms wrapped in scales and teeth.

Vaelith circled Nyracs with shameless devotion, occasionally lowering his enormous head to nudge against her shoulder or neck. Each time, Nyracs answered with a low growl and a rough shove powerful enough to send the smaller dragon stumbling sideways across the stone.

Vaelith only seemed more delighted by this.

Hiori snorted softly beneath his breath. “Subtle creature,” he murmured.

Nyracs eventually settled near the cliffside with a heavy exhale, vast wings partially unfurling behind her like a dark sail. Moonlight spilled across her body.

Vaelith immediately sprawled beside her.

The larger dragon tolerated him with exhausted patience.

Wind screamed around the cliffs, the sea answered below. And somewhere between those sounds, Rin finally spoke.

“If this war is to come to pass,” he said quietly, “I would rather die without regrets.”

Hiori turned his head slightly.

“Oh?” He asked lightly.  “And what exactly would my dear prince regret?”

Rin did not answer at once. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon where the sea and sky blurred together into darkness.

Below them, another wave crashed violently against the cliffs, mist rising high enough for cold droplets to kiss their skin.

Behind them, Vaelith let out a low rumbling croon while Nyracs rested her head heavily across his back, nearly crushing him beneath the weight of it.

Hiori watched the dragons briefly before looking back toward Rin.

His prince looked tired.

Exhaustion carved deep into the bones of a man who had spent too long carrying responsibilities much too heavy for one person alone. 

“I have spent most of my life being useful,” Rin said at last. The words were quiet enough that the wind nearly stole them.

Hiori’s expression softened faintly.

“A prince useful to the crown,” he continued. “A rider useful to the kingdom.”

“As thrilling as that sounds,” Hiori murmured, “I sense a ‘but’ approaching.”

Rin ignored him entirely. “I have lived carefully,” His voice lowered further.

“Every choice I have ever made has been weighed against duty.”

The wind tugged dark strands of hair across his face again.

Moonlight painted pale silver across the sharp planes of his features, softening the coldness the kingdom feared so deeply.

“And if war comes,” Rin continued quietly, “there is a possibility I may die having never once chosen something simply because I wanted it.”

That wiped the teasing look clean from Hiori’s face.

Rin finally turned toward him then, teal eyes met blue beneath the moonlight.

“You asked what I would regret,” he murmured. “It is that.”

Something in Hiori’s chest tightened painfully.

Of all the things he had expected Rin to say, it had not been this. Not this quiet ache from the mouth of a man the entire kingdom believed untouchable.

He turned toward Rin fully, one knee brushing lightly against his. “You have chosen things for yourself,” he said softly.

Rin’s brow furrowed faintly. “Have I?”

“Yes.” Hiori smiled, though it ached at the edges.

“You chose to keep a reckless knight who spent years flirting with you despite numerous opportunities to throw him directly from a tower.”

“That was less a choice,” Rin replied dryly, “and more a failure to eliminate an ongoing problem.”

A quiet laugh escaped Hiori despite himself.

But Rin did not smile. “Hiori.”

Rin looked at him for a long moment as though trying to memorize him. The scar near his jaw, the shape of his mouth, the blue of his eyes beneath the moonlight. Every familiar expression that had stood beside him through battles, sleepless nights, bloodshed, and burden.

“When this war begins,” Rin said softly, “they will send me south.”

Hiori’s jaw tightened immediately. “I know.”

“And there is a possibility I may not return.”

“No.” The sharpness in Hiori’s voice startled even himself. “Do not speak as though you are already dead.”

Rin held his gaze steadily. “Hiori - ”

“No.” He looked away harshly, exhaling through his nose. “I will not survive this kingdom losing you.”

Something vulnerable flickered briefly across Rin’s expression then, gone almost too quickly to catch.

“Hiori,” he repeated again.

Hiori pressed his face to Rin’s shoulder briefly before pulling it away with a humorless laugh.

“Gods,” he muttered. “Listen to me. I sound insane.”

Rin watched him for another long moment before speaking again.

“If I survive this war,” he said slowly, “the council will attempt to marry me off.”

“Well,” he said carefully, “that sounds unfortunate for whichever poor noblewoman they choose.”

The faintest twitch pulled at Rin’s mouth. “They have been trying for years.”

“I am aware. Lady Edevane nearly fainted after you ignored her seventeen poems comparing your eyes to winter seas.”

A small breath of laughter escaped Rin then, brief and soft. “But I do not want them,” he said.

The wind screamed around the cliffs.

Behind them, Vaelith released a pleased rumble as Nyracs shoved her nose beneath one of his wings.

Rin held Hiori’s gaze steadily now. “I want you.”

The wind tore through the cliffs around them, carrying salt and sea mist through his dark hair, but the only thing Hiori could see was the naked honesty in his eyes.

“I do not care for court politics,” he said quietly. “Or alliances. Or what the council considers acceptable.”

“If I am to die someday,” he continued, “I would rather die having belonged to someone I choose to belong too.”

Hiori’s breath caught painfully in his chest. For a moment, the entire world seemed to narrow to the man sitting beside him.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Rin’s face then, brief enough most people would have missed it entirely.

“And,” Rin added after a beat, voice turning almost dry, “You offered to burn entire kingdoms for me. That sounds close enough to a marital vow.”

A startled laugh escaped Hiori before he could stop it, helplessly disbelieving.

Because Rin looked nervous.

The man who could silence council chambers with a single sentence. The man generals obeyed without hesitation. The man entire kingdoms feared like a horror story looked nervous asking this.

Something warm and aching split wide open inside Hiori’s chest.

Both hands rose to cradle Rin’s face, fingers brushing against cool skin wind-chilled by the sea. Rin inhaled softly at the touch, eyes widening almost imperceptibly.

“My prince,” Hiori whispered. His thumbs brushed lightly beneath Rin’s eye as he smiled, helplessly fond.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

For exactly half a heartbeat was Rin able to maintain his usual composure.

“…Possibly.”

Hiori laughed outright, startled and breathless with affection.

Rin frowned faintly at him, dignity wounded. “You are reacting poorly.”

“No,” Hiori said through another laugh, leaning forward until his forehead touched Rin’s shoulder once more. “I am reacting wonderfully.”

The cold edge of Rin’s composure finally splintered beneath quiet laughter.

“You absolute disaster of a man,” Hiori murmured fondly.

There was a war approaching.

Armies were gathering beyond the sea. Dragons would burn cities and men would die screaming beneath fire and steel within the next two weeks. 

And somehow Rin had chosen this moment to hand over his heart with all the awkward solemnity of a man presenting military strategy.

Hiori loved him unbearably.

“Of course I will marry you.”

Relief flickered across Rin’s face so quickly it almost hurt to witness.

Hiori kissed him before he could say anything else.

One arm wrapped around Hiori’s waist with sudden force, pulling him bodily into his lap as though afraid he might disappear if not held tightly enough.

The kiss deepened at once.

Hiori melted into him with a quiet sound, fingers sliding into dark hair already tangled by the sea breeze. Rin kissed like he fought, intense and focused and devastatingly thorough, like once he committed to something, he did so completely.

The ocean roared beneath the cliffs and still Rin kissed him like the rest of the world no longer existed.

Hiori laughed softly against his mouth when Rin’s grip tightened further around his waist.

“Careful,” he whispered between kisses. “You are beginning to look emotional.”

Rin kissed him again solely to silence him.

Behind them, Vaelith released a loud chirping trill that echoed across the cliffs.

Nyracs answered with a deep growl that sounded deeply annoyed.

Hiori pulled back just enough to glance over Rin’s shoulder.

Vaelith had stretched himself dramatically beside Nyracs, wings half-spread in obvious self-satisfaction.

Nyracs looked one inconvenience away from throwing him directly into the sea.

“Your dragon disapproves,” Hiori murmured.

Rin glanced back briefly before shaking his head. “She disapproves of you specifically.”

Hiori snorted. “You know if we survive this war, I fully intend to become intolerable.”

One dark brow lifted slightly. “More than you already are?”

“Gods, yes.” Hiori sighed dramatically. “It will be horrific. I shall become insufferably devoted. I plan to cling to you at formal events so much, poets will write warnings about me.”

Hiori grinned faintly.

Rin hummed softly before leaning forward once more, voice lowering against Hiori’s lips.

“I think,” he murmured, “I can endure it.”

Then he kissed him again.

Around them, dragons shifted beneath the moonlight like ancient guardians standing watch over the kingdom’s most dangerous secret.

The sea crashed endlessly against the cliffs below. Stars burned cold overhead. Wind tangled through hair and robes and dragon wings alike.

And somewhere between the salt air, the darkness, and the steady warmth of Hiori’s hands against his skin, Rin allowed himself something wholly selfish for the first time in his life.

The night swallowed their laughter soon after.
—

Something enormous struck the cliffside above them, shaking the entire outcropping beneath their bodies. Loose pebbles skittered over the cliff’s edge and vanished into the roaring sea below.

Hiori groaned miserably into the pile of furs without opening his eyes.

“If that is a soldier,” he muttered, voice wrecked from sleep, “I am feeding them directly to Vaelith.”

A loud, deeply offended trill echoed overhead immediately.

Hiori let out a long suffering sigh. “Oh, gods,” he rasped. “Worse. It’s you.”

Another rumbling sound followed, accompanied by the heavy scrape of claws dragging across stone.

Cold morning wind curled through the little hollow in the rocks where they had slept tangled together beneath cloaks and furs. 

Dawn had already painted the sky in streaks of pale gold and soft blue, sunlight bleeding slowly across the ocean below them until the waves looked molten beneath the rising sun.

Beside him, Rin exhaled slowly through his nose. The sound carried the exhausted resignation of a man personally betrayed by the concept of morning.

Hiori cracked one eye open reluctantly.

Nyracs loomed above them.

The massive dragon had lowered herself over the edge of the cliff like some ancient beast peering into a burrow, enormous orange eyes glowing molten gold in the dawn light. 

Hiori stared back from beneath a tangle of dark furs and limbs. “Rude,” he informed her.

Beside him, Rin finally lifted his head from where he had been half buried against Hiori’s shoulder.

The prince looked thoroughly ruined.

Dark green hair fell messily across his forehead and into sleep-heavy eyes, tangled beyond saving by wind and wandering hands alike. One side of his face still bore faint impressions from the furs beneath him, and the cloak they had dragged around themselves sometime during the night had slipped low across his chest.

One arm remained loosely wrapped around Hiori’s waist, a possessive bastard even half asleep.

Neither dragon looked remotely sympathetic. Vaelith’s head suddenly appeared beside Nyracs’, pale eyes bright with what Hiori strongly suspected was amusement.

He chirped loudly.

“You are both traitors,” Hiori informed them with deep offense.

Nyracs snorted smoke directly into his face.

Hiori coughed violently.

Rin finally pushed himself upright with visible reluctance, cloak sliding lower as he moved.

Morning light spilled across bare skin.

Hiori’s gaze dropped instantly.

Fading bite marks darkened Rin’s shoulder and throat in scattered bruised crescents. 

Teal eyes flicked toward him with sleepy awareness.

“You look very pleased with yourself,” Rin observed dryly.

“I am,” Hiori answered, voice rough with sleep and absolutely no shame whatsoever. “You should see what you did to me.”

Rin looked entirely unapologetic.

Vaelith abruptly shoved his enormous nose between them with all the delicacy of a battering ram, nearly knocking Hiori sideways off the furs altogether.

“Oh, for - ” Hiori grabbed the dragon’s snout with both hands as Vaelith continued forcing himself between them anyway.

“Jealous?” he asked flatly.

Vaelith rumbled softly and attempted to push closer.

Rin reached up absently to shove at Vaelith’s nose.

“Your beast is clingy,” Rin informed him.

Vaelith made another pleased rumble. Nyracs, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes off Rin once.

The prince frowned faintly, trying to understand what he had forgotten.

Hiori watched the exact moment realization struck him.

Rin went completely still with instant horror. He slowly turned his head toward the horizon.

The sun had already climbed well above the sea.

Far in the distance, beyond layers of morning mist, dark dragon shapes circled high above the stronghold towers like birds of prey returning home.

Hiori stared blankly for a heartbeat. “Oh,” he said weakly.

Vaelith chirped helpfully.

Rin stood so fast the cloak tangled around his legs. “The high riders arrive this morning.”

“Well,” Hiori said carefully, “that does sound mildly important.”

Rin turned toward him slowly. It was the expression of a man standing one inconvenience away from committing homicide.

Hiori quickly began scrambling. “I’m getting up.”

Above them, Vaelith released a delighted chirping trill that sounded entirely too pleased by the unfolding disaster.

Furs tangled beyond repair, discarded belts half buried in the grass, one of Rin’s gloves somehow hanging from a nearby rock several feet away.

Hiori decided not to question that.

There was nothing sluggish about him despite the fact they had slept perhaps an hour at best.

The prince rose from the furs with quick movements, dragging his undershirt back over skin still littered with marks from the night before. His dark hair was an absolute catastrophe, thoroughly tangled, though somehow the disarray only made him look more unfairly beautiful.

Hiori, meanwhile, attempted to stand and immediately nearly collapsed back onto the blankets when every muscle in his body protested at once.

“Son of a bitch,” he groaned.

Rin fastened one belt without even glancing at him. “You are weak.”

“You say that,” Hiori muttered hoarsely while struggling into yesterday’s pants, “as though this is not directly your fault.”

It was the closest thing to victory Hiori would receive.

Behind them, Nyracs had already lowered herself into a crouch near the edge of the cliffs, prepared for departure.

Vaelith, unfortunately, had become distracted.

The dragon shoved his enormous snout directly into the abandoned pile of blankets, snuffling noisily before pulling one of the furs halfway across the cliffside.

“Vaelith.”

Slowly, he turned his head toward Hiori with the expression of a creature caught committing a crime.

“You are a disgrace to dragonkind.”

Several minutes later, both dragons launched from the cliffs in a violent rush of wind and stone.

The world dropped away beneath them instantly.

Cold air tore through Hiori’s hair hard enough to sting his eyes as Vaelith surged upward after Nyracs. Below them, the sea churned black and silver beneath the morning light, waves breaking violently against jagged rock while mist curled between the cliffs like smoke.

Ahead, Nyracs flew like a coming storm.

Her massive wings carved through the sky with terrifying force, every beat sending ripples through the clouds around her. Rin sat balanced near the base of her neck with effortless stability, dark cloak snapping violently behind him as the prince’s composure slowly rebuilt itself piece by piece.

From this angle, Hiori could still see the unmistakable red marks disappearing beneath the high collar of Rin’s undershirt.

A grin spread across his face immediately.

The stronghold appeared through the sea fog not long after, sprawling across the cliffs in towers of black stone and iron. Massive dragon perches crowned the highest points of the fortress while royal banners whipped savagely in the wind.

Even from a distance, the place looked awake already. Servants moved frantically across the courtyards below.

And circling high above the fortress towers were five dragons already arrived from the outer territories.

Nyracs descended toward the prince’s balcony at alarming speed.

The dragon never bothered with graceful landings where urgency was involved. She swept past the tower in a blur of teal scales and thunderous wings, rattling windows hard enough that servants below visibly scattered in panic.

Rin jumped before she had fully landed.

One moment he was atop her spine, the next he hit the balcony stone in a smooth stride already moving toward the chamber doors.

“Hurry,” he called sharply over one shoulder.

“I am hurrying,” Hiori answered immediately.

He was not hurrying at all.

By the time he dismounted Vaelith and wandered inside, Rin had already disappeared deeper into the chambers. Fabric rustled rapidly somewhere beyond the carved divider screens while drawers opened and shut with increasing aggression.

Hiori, meanwhile, walked directly toward the mirror. His reflection looked like that of a roughed up criminal.

His hair resembled the aftermath of a hurricane. There was a bruise blooming darkly near the base of his throat, his shirt was laced incorrectly, and one side of his collar had somehow folded inward.

He looked less like a knight and more like a man recently dragged from the sea. Which, in fairness, was not entirely inaccurate.

He leaned closer to the mirror, attempting to flatten one side of his hair back into place with limited success.

Behind him, fabric shifted again.

“You know,” Hiori said conversationally while wrestling with a comb, “if we are fortunate, perhaps the high riders will mistake our lateness for confidence.”

“They will mistake it for incompetence,” Rin answered flatly.

“Ah. Yes. That too.” Hiori reached to adjust his collar. 

In the mirror’s reflection behind him, Rin had turned away while fastening the belts across his uniform. For one suspended moment, Hiori’s brain stopped functioning entirely.

The prince’s back was bare, and absolutely covered in scratches.

Long crimson marks dragged across skin from shoulder to waist, some faint, others deep enough to stand angry and vivid against his skin. Several curved sharply near his ribs where Hiori had very obviously lost all remaining restraint sometime around midnight.

Or perhaps earlier, honestly, the details had become blurred.

Hiori stared in mounting horror. “Gods above.”

Rin glanced toward him over one shoulder, still adjusting one glove. “What.”

Hiori pointed weakly at the mirror. “Has it truly been that long since I trimmed my nails?”

Rin looked entirely unimpressed.

“You say that,” he replied coolly, “as though you were not extraordinarily pleased with yourself an hour ago.”

Hiori choked violently on absolutely nothing. “That is not the point.”

Rin reached for the dark outer layer of his uniform, dragging the heavy fabric over his shoulders with maddening calm while Hiori continued staring at the damage he had apparently inflicted upon royalty.

“My prince,” Hiori said, “if the council sees those marks, they may assume you fought some manner of wild beast.”

Rin fastened the final clasp at his throat before stepping closer.

“I did.” The faintest trace of amusement flickered through Rin’s teal eyes then.

Before Hiori could recover enough dignity to answer, Rin caught him by the front of his tunic and pulled him forward sharply.

The kiss stole the remainder of his thoughts instantly.

Hiori stumbled into him with a startled sound, one hand instinctively catching against Rin’s waist while the prince kissed him like he fully intended to destroy whatever composure Hiori had left.

Which, frankly, was already hanging by a thread.

When Rin finally pulled away, Hiori looked visibly dazed. Rin, infuriatingly, looked perfectly composed once more.

“Pull yourself together,” the prince said smoothly. “We have riders to greet.”

Then he turned and walked from the room first, dark cloak sweeping behind him with princely elegance entirely undeserved by a man responsible for approximately every problem in Hiori’s life.

Hiori stared after him for several long seconds.

“I am going to make your life absolutely miserable after we marry.”
—

Rin moved through the stronghold halls at a pace that would have scandalized half the royal court.

Hiori followed close behind, only barely matching the prince’s speed.

Somehow, in less than fifteen minutes, Rin had transformed from a man tangled half-naked in furs at the edge of a cliff into the terrifying Prince once more.

The corridor opened into one of the fortress’s central passageways, where morning light spilled through towering arched windows overlooking the sea. Guards snapped upright the instant Rin appeared, fists striking their chests in salute.

Far below, the sounds of the stronghold waking carried upward through the stone.

Dragon calls echoed faintly from the towers.

Orders rang across courtyards already crowded with soldiers and stable hands preparing for incoming patrols.

War was approaching, the entire fortress could feel it. And waiting somewhere ahead were the High Riders.

Rin’s expression cooled further at the thought.

It wasn’t excitement driving him forward, quite the opposite.

The High Riders were legends to most of the kingdom.

Five dragon riders chosen from noble and common blood alike, hand-selected by the royal family for skill extraordinary enough to overcome tradition itself. 

While dragons almost exclusively bonded with royal bloodlines, there were rare exceptions every few generations, individuals capable of forming connections strong enough to survive the bond despite lacking royal ancestry.

Those chosen became High Riders, protectors of the realm. Commanders second only to the crown itself.

To most people, it was the highest honor imaginable.

Children dreamed of becoming High Riders. Songs were written about them. Entire villages celebrated when one of their own was selected for training.

Rin personally thought most of them were glorified idiots on dragonback.

Or at least the previous generation had been.

The former High Riders had possessed excellent reputations and catastrophically poor judgment.

One had nearly gotten himself and three battalions killed attempting to engage mountain raiders during a thunderstorm because he thought it would look heroic.

Another had once mistaken a smuggler vessel for a warship and set an allied trade route ablaze.

And the less said about the disaster at Red Harbor, the better.

Rin had spent years cleaning up their mistakes.

The kingdom praised them endlessly while he quietly flew behind them extinguishing fires both literal and political.

The previous generation of High Riders had retired two winters ago, thankfully dragged into irrelevance before they accidentally destroyed something important.

Since then, the new generation had been training across the outer territories.

Rin had never bothered meeting them personally.

He had been occupied with border conflicts, council affairs, rebellions, pirates, and the endless burden of being a prince.

But now the riders had been recalled to the capital, which meant now was the time he would decide whether this generation was just as useless as the last.

And Gods help them if they disappointed him within the first five minutes.
—

The receiving hall of the eastern tower was thick with people by the time Rin entered.

Morning light streamed through the towering arched windows, pale and cold, casting the waters beyond in sheets of beaten silver. 

Great pillars of dark stone rose toward the vaulted ceiling, each one carved with dragons whose wings and tails wound upward in eternal spirals. Between them hung the banners of the royal house, their embroidered scales and crowns stirring only faintly in the salt-laden air.

Guards lined the walls in two unbroken ranks, helms polished bright, spearheads gleaming in the torchlight. Their faces were expressionless, yet each man straightened the instant Rin crossed the threshold.

At the center of the chamber stood the newly summoned High Riders.

Hiori, who had followed a measured pace behind him, slowed at once and slipped back into the role of dutiful knight with insulting ease. His shoulders settled, his expression turned mild and unreadable, and his hands folded neatly behind his back in a  flawless performance.

Rin would have admired it more had he not been able to feel the fading imprint of Hiori’s teeth against his throat, hidden beneath the stiff collar of his tunic.

At the far end of the hall, beneath the great crest of the royal dragon wrought in gold and obsidian, stood the king.

Age had not made him frail, but it had thinned him. His fur-lined robes hung heavier upon his shoulders than they once had, and silver now threaded his dark hair like frost upon iron. 

At his right hand stood Crown Prince Sae.

Where Rin was all sharpened edges and banked violence, Sae possessed a colder beauty. He stood as though carved from marble and ice, draped in layers of white and crimson, his own dark cloak clasped with a silver dragon at one shoulder. 

His face betrayed nothing. Only his eyes moved when Rin interred, a slight narrowing, barely perceptible.

You are late, they spoke.

Rin met his elder brother’s gaze and dismissed the accusation with indifference.

His attention turned instead to the five riders assembled before the throne.

They were younger than he had expected.

One lay sprawled upon a carved stone bench as though he had mistaken the royal receiving hall for a roadside inn. White hair spilled over the high collar of his dark riding leathers, and one long leg hung half off the bench, boot swaying idly. He appeared to be asleep.

Beside him stood a tall young man with violet eyes and a nobleman’s bearing, though his composure was marred by the way he kept adjusting his silver-stitched gloves. 

Near the windows stood another, dark-haired and keen-eyed man, his blue gaze bright with a calculating intelligence that seemed to miss very little.

At his side leaned a rider with sun-gold eyes and a smile too wild to be entirely sane. His dark hair, streaked with pale blond at the ends, fell carelessly across his brow, and he looked upon the hall with unconcealed delight, as if he had stumbled into a story he was eager to inhabit.

And then there was the last.

He stood at the center of the group as though he had claimed the space by right of audacity alone.

His hair was blonde, but the tips were the color of fresh blood mixed with rose petals, vivid as a banner in battle. His posture was loose, almost lazy, but there was a coiled violence in him, like a wolf pretending to be a hound.

The moment Prince Rin entered, the rider lifted his head, and a slow grin spread across his face.

Sae stepped forward, his voice smooth as polished steel.

“This” he said, “Is my younger brother, second Prince Rin.”

The pink-haired rider looked Rin over from head to toe.

His grin broadened until it bordered on insolence. With cheerful certainty. “I don’t believe that.”

The sound that escaped Hiori behind Rin was suspiciously close to a strangled laugh.

Sae turned his head with glacial precision. “Do you not?” he asked, his tone mild enough to freeze blood.

The rider pointed unabashedly at Rin.

“That one,” he declared, “has the look of a man who would set a kingdom ablaze because someone breathed too loudly.”

Then he turned the same finger toward Sae.

“You, on the other hand, appear as though you would write a strongly worded letter about it.”

The guards along the walls seemed to forget how to breathe.

The rider either did not perceive the mortal danger gathering around him, or he perceived it perfectly and found it entertaining.

Rin had not yet determined which possibility was more troubling.

The violet-eyed rider moved with the speed of long practice.

His gloved hand struck the pink-haired rider sharply across the ribs with a thwack that echoed in the hush of the hall.

“Shidou,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his polished composure cracking at the edges. “Have you taken leave of your senses? You stand before the royals.”

Shidou did not so much as wince. He turned his bright, feral gaze upon the other man with the affronted indignation of one who believed himself entirely reasonable.

“And what of it?” he demanded, his voice carrying boldly through the chamber. “Was I speaking falsely?”

“You are speaking your way to the headsman’s block.”

At that, the rider with the sun-bright eyes broke with delighted laughter, clutching at the stone pillar for support. His laughter rang through the hall as freely as a child’s, irreverent and infectious.

The dark-haired rider near the window lowered his head, even he was perilously close to smiling.

Only the white-haired rider remained precisely as he had been before: sprawled across the bench in a state bordering on death, or sleep, or both.

Upon the dais, King Itoshi closed his eyes for a brief and weary moment.

“Prince Rin,” he said, his voice carrying across the chamber, “Allow me to present the High Riders.”

The violet-haired young man stepped forward at once, every trace of frustration swept away as though it had never existed. He bowed deeply, one hand over his heart.

“Reo Mikage,” he said, his voice smooth and impeccably measured. 

The laughing rider straightened, gold eyes still shining with mischief. He offered an easy bow that was only half proper.

“Bachira Meguru,” he said cheerfully. “I am honored to stand before the dragonlords.”

Near the windows, the dark-haired rider inclined his head with quiet dignity.

“Isagi Yoichi,” he said. “I pray I may prove worthy of the trust placed in me.”

The white-haired rider did not stir.

Reo drew in a measured breath through his nose.

“That,” he said, clearly stressed. “Is Nagi Seishiro.”

Without opening his eyes, Nagi lifted one languid hand into the air.

“Good morning,” he murmured, as though greeting neighbors over breakfast rather than acknowledging the royal family.

Sae’s expression did not change but Rin had known his brother his entire life and recognized the subtle tightening around his eyes.

It was the look Sae wore when he was considering murder and calculating whether it would be politically inconvenient or not.

“And this,” King Itoshi continued with remarkable patience, “is Ryusei Shidou.”

Shidou stepped forward with a predator’s smile, all sharp teeth and reckless delight. He bowed, though the gesture resembled a wolf lowering its head before deciding whether to bite.

“Well met, Your Highnesses,” he said. The words were formally spoken but the tone was anything but.

Rin disliked him immediately.

Before any further calamity could unfold, Sae stepped forward, smooth and composed as still water over deep ice.

“The High Riders arrived shortly before dawn,” he said. “They have come from the western territories, where they were engaged in patrol and advanced training. Their dragons are now being quartered and tended in the lower chambers.”

His tone was perfectly controlled.

One would never know he was standing amidst chaos and one careless word away from strangling someone with his own hands.

Several paces behind Rin, Hiori stood with his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

His face was the very picture of knightly composure.

His eyes, however, were bright with the unmistakable strain of exerting every ounce of discipline not to collapse into helpless laughter.

Traitor.

King Itoshi cleared his throat, drawing every gaze once more.

“Before this assembly descends any further into absurdity,” he said, “I will have my sons escort our honored riders to the dragon chambers and thereafter to their quarters.”

Sae turned to his father like he had just been asked to shovel a stable by hand.

Rin’s own face revealed nothing, though inwardly he regarded the command as a punishment sent by the gods themselves.

“Father,” Sae began carefully, his words wrapped in silken restraint.

The king raised a hand. “That was not a petition for your counsel, my son.”

For the briefest moment, something flickered in Sae’s eyes. Then he bowed his head with exquisite grace.

“As you command.”

King Itoshi turned his attention to the five riders, and all levity vanished from his face.

The years seemed to settle upon him once more, and when he spoke his voice carried the full weight of crown and kingdom.

“You will remain in the capital until further notice,” he said. “The winds darken, and the realm stands upon uncertain ground. War approaches, perhaps sooner than we had hoped.”

The words fell over the hall like a gathering storm. The sea thundered against the cliffs beyond the windows.

The banners overhead stirred.

And in the cold silence that followed, each rider understood that the games of youth had ended.

The dragons had been summoned.

“At once,” Sae said.

The words fell from his lips with the crisp finality of a sword sliding back into its sheath. Without waiting to see whether any among them possessed the wit to obey, the Crown Prince turned on his heel and strode toward the great bronze doors.

His dark cloak swept behind him like a trailing shadow.

The newly appointed High Riders began to follow at once.

All save one.

Nagi remained precisely where he was, draped across the stone bench in boneless indifference, pale hair spilling over his brow, his long limbs arranged with the careless abandon of a cat basking in a patch of sunlight. 

Reo halted.

For the space of a single breath, he closed his eyes. It was the expression of a man beseeching the gods for patience and receiving none. Then he seized the back of Nagi’s cloak and hauled him to his feet.

“You will,” Reo said through a smile so polished it bordered upon threatening, “join us in the noble art of walking.”

Nagi swayed upright, blinking with the slow confusion of one dragged unwillingly from the dead.

Bachira laughed aloud, bright and delighted, and fell into step beside Isagi. His golden eyes danced from vaulted ceiling to arrow slit to carved stone, taking in every detail of the stronghold with the breathless wonder of a child entering a dragon’s lair for the first time.

Shidou, meanwhile, paid no heed to architecture. Like a hound catching an unfamiliar scent, he drifted unbidden to Rin’s side.

He studied the younger prince openly, his rose-colored eyes glittering with predatory amusement.

With all the enthusiasm of a maester delivering a revelation, he asked, “You are truly the younger brother?”

Rin turned his head a fraction. His expression was as flat and cold as winter steel.

“Your powers of observation are formidable.”

Behind him came a suspicious sound. Hiori coughed into his fist with conspicuous force, though the faint shake of his shoulders betrayed him utterly.

The procession moved out into the halls of the eastern tower.

Whatever dignity Sae had hoped to preserve began to unravel almost immediately.

Servants flattened themselves against the walls as the princes passed, bowing so deeply their foreheads nearly brushed the stone.

The High Riders followed in varying states of discipline.

Reo walked with impeccable posture, his cloak arranged with noble precision.

Isagi attempted a similar composure, though his gaze flicked ceaselessly from corridor to corridor, as though measuring the fortress and committing it to memory.

Bachira repeatedly strayed toward the windows, peering with unconcealed excitement at the dragon towers that rose from the cliffs like dark spears.

Nagi somehow managed to look half asleep while walking, his eyes barely open and his steps guided almost entirely by Reo’s stern proximity.

Shidou prowled beside Rin like a wolf that had learned the shape of human speech but none of its restraint.

After a time, his attention slid away from the prince and his gaze settled upon Hiori.

Unlike the knights posted throughout the stronghold, Hiori wore no heavy plate nor gilded ceremonial armor. He was dressed instead in a fitted dark uniform, elegant in its simplicity, with a long coat bearing the royal crest embroidered in silver thread upon one shoulder. A sword rested at his hip.

He walked with deceptive ease. Too relaxed for a common guard, but at the same time much too comfortable at Rin’s side.

Shidou turned and continued walking backward through the corridor, heedless of walls, pillars, and common sense. He pointed directly at Hiori.

“Who are you?”

“Hiori Yo,” Hiori replied with a courteous inclination of his head.

Before he could add anything further, Rin spoke. “He is my sworn guard.”

Shidou’s brow rose. “Only that?” He questioned.

“Yes.” The prince’s tone carried all the warmth of a grave marker.

Hiori smiled faintly. “My apologies if I appear unremarkable.”

Ahead of them, Sae continued walking rigid serenity while contemplating whether fratricide was punishable by law.

Shidou’s grin sharpened. “Your sworn guard,” he repeated, as though savoring the phrase. “And nothing more?”

Rin did not even look at him. “That is what I said, is it not?”

Shidou twisted further, still walking backward, still fixed upon Hiori with relentless curiosity.

Hiori, to his everlasting credit, remained untroubled.

“I stand behind the prince,” he said pleasantly. “I carry out his commands. And, on occasion, I dissuade him from killing those who prove inconvenient.”

Rin’s expression did not change. “You fail in that task with alarming regularity.”

“Your standards are indeed merciless, my prince.”

Shidou barked a delighted laugh. “I like this one.”

Reo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“For the love of the gods, cease harrying the prince’s knight like some rabid cur.”

“I am not harrying him,” Shidou said, rolling his eyes. “I am simply smelling him out.”

Bachira, who had drifted close enough to overhear, leaned in with bright-eyed enthusiasm.

“He does smell like a dragon.”

Hiori nearly faltered. The smallest hitch in his step was visible only to those watching closely.

Sae turned his head with glacial slowness, visibly confused. “I beg your pardon?”

Bachira shrugged, entirely cheerful.

“Not in a bad way, but he smells like smoke and sky and fire and stuff.”

Rin’s jaw tightened so subtly that only Hiori noticed.

And Hiori — by some miracle of divine intervention — maintained his pleasant, unreadable smile.

Shidou’s grin spread wider, his eyes gleaming like polished rubies.

“Oh,” he said softly. “Now that is most intriguing.”

Hiori inclined his head. “Or perhaps I spend a great deal of time in the company of dragons.”

Shidou tilted his head. “Do you?”

“The prince I serve is rather fond of one,” Hiori said lightly.

Sae exhaled through his nose, the sound of a man wrestling with fate itself.

He spoke without turning. “Continue walking,” he said.

The command carried the unmistakable edge of a prince who knew that if anyone uttered another word, the day might end in blood.

They descended by way of the ancient passages beneath the stronghold, where the stones themselves seemed to breathe heat.

The air grew warmer with every step. It thickened with the scents of brimstone, ash, scorched iron, and sun-baked rock. The walls here were older than the upper towers, their black stone stained and blistered by centuries of dragonfire. In places, the carvings of old kings and winged beasts had been half melted by flame, their features softened into ghostly shapes.

A distant roar rolled upward through the mountain, so deep it seemed to rise from the bones of the earth itself.

The dragon chambers.

The great bronze doors stood open before them, each taller than a castle gate and etched with scenes of dragons in war and conquest. Their hinges groaned softly in the heat.

Beyond lay a cavern vast enough to humble kings.

It stretched deep into the heart of the cliffs, a cathedral carved by gods and fire. Shafts of morning light poured through immense openings in the rock face, where the mountain fell away to the sea. Gold and white sunlight spilled across black stone, igniting the drifting smoke and setting scales aglow like polished armor.

The air thrummed with life.

Stable hands darted to and fro carrying chains, saddles, and buckets of fresh-killed meat. Dragonkeepers shouted orders over the din. Armored attendants moved like ants beneath creatures so immense they could swallow a horse in a single bite.

Upon the lower platforms rested five unfamiliar dragons.

The riders’ mounts, newly arrived from the western territories.

One was slender and silver-gray, her wings folded tight against her body, long tail twitching with nervous impatience.

Another sprawled heavily upon the stone, broad and copper-scaled, smoke drifting lazily from his nostrils in warm, fragrant curls.

Near the far wall lay a pale beast with scales that mixed from purple, brown and white, curled in a sleeping coil so still it might have been carved from ivory.

A smaller black dragon was tangled half atop a deep brown companion, both of them resting in companionable disorder.

Magnificent creatures all.

Upon the highest platform, lay Nyracs. One vast eye opened as Rin entered. It burned like an ember in the dark. The dragon lifted her head, and a low rumble rolled from her chest.

Dust sifted from the rafters at her movement and the High Riders fell silent.

Even Shidou ceased smiling for a moment. His pink eyes widened with something approaching reverence.

“By the gods,” he murmured.

Rin crossed the platform as one might cross the threshold of his own chamber. Nyracs lowered her great head to meet him, and he rested his hand against the scales of her jaw.

The monstrous beast leaned into his touch. Smoke curled around the prince and dragon like incense around an altar.

The sight was almost intimate.

Then another roar split the cavern and heads snapped upward just in time to see a shadow passed over the shafts of sunlight.

From the upper ledges descended Vaelith.

He came with a sweep of midnight-blue wings, graceful as a hawk and far too large for any such comparison to be sensible. His scales shimmered like the night sea, nearly black until the light struck them. 

When he landed, chains rattled, and torches sat in brackets on the walls trembled.

The fearsome war dragon gave a high, delighted trill. With all the dignity of an overgrown hound he bounded across the cavern in three enormous strides and thrust his massive head directly into Hiori’s chest.

Hiori staggered backward, laughing as he braced himself.

“Gods preserve me,” he said, wrapping both hands around Vaelith’s snout so as to not fall. “You are the most dramatic creature ever to live.”

Vaelith crooned, a low and shamelessly affectionate sound, and nudged him again with enough force to nearly lift him off his feet.

Hiori scratched beneath the dragon’s jaw, smiling, “I was gone for an hour.”

Vaelith let out a mournful rumble that suggested Hiori’s absence had been a tragedy of epic proportions.

The five High Riders stood rooted to the stone. Whatever levity they had carried into the chamber vanished in an instant.

Vaelith pressed his star-flecked head against Hiori’s chest and crooned like a creature reunited with his dearest companion.

The cavern grew so still that the hiss of torches sounded deafening.

Bachira’s golden eyes widened until they seemed fit to leap from his face, wonder lighting every feature.

Isagi stared at Hiori with the expression of a man watching an entire strategy collapse and rebuild itself before his eyes.

Reo’s lips parted. “No way,” he breathed, scarcely able to credit what he was seeing.

Shidou, however, looked as though the gods had handed him a blade and invited him to carve open the heavens.

He began to laugh with unrestrained delight, like he had solved a mystery and found the answer more glorious than he had imagined.

“Ha!” He pointed directly at Hiori. “I knew it.”

Hiori went perfectly still, one hand resting against Vaelith’s muzzle.

“You sly and faithless creature,” he declared, his voice ringing through the chamber. “You’re the Bastard Rider.”

The title struck the air like a bell.

Dragonkeepers went suddenly silent, and even the dragons seemed to look over to listen in.

A few paces away, Rin turned. His voice, when it came, was taut as a drawn bowstring and every bit as dangerous.

“I would counsel you to measure your tongue.”

Teal eyes as cold as the winter sea fixed upon the rider.

“Unless you desire to return to your home as a head mounted upon your dragon’s horn.”

The warning came cold as drawn steel.

The cavernous dragon chamber, moments before alive with the scrape of boots and murmur of voices, seemed suddenly to hold its breath. Even the chains hanging from the vaulted stone ceiling ceased their rattling, swaying gently in the heat rising from the beasts below.

Rin stood unmoving beside Nyracs, one hand resting against the great she-dragon’s jaw. Yet there was danger in those cold teal eyes that watched Shidou with the patience of a man deciding whether another soul was worth killing.

The dragonkeepers nearest the platform shifted backward without meaning to.

Nyracs raised her immense head.

Smoke unfurled from between her fangs in slow, curling streams, drifting through the torchlight like ghostly fingers. The silver-white markings veined across her teal scales shifted with the movement of her muscles under scales. One vast ember-bright eye fixed itself upon Shidou.

The pink-haired rider did not retreat. If anything, his smile widened.

“Oh?” he called, laughter dancing shamelessly through his voice. “And shall you do it yourself, my prince?”

Reo shut his eyes briefly, as though praying for divine deliverance.

“Gods save us,” he muttered beneath his breath, pressing fingers to his brow. “This fool means to die.”

Shidou strode forward another step, heedless of the danger before him.

He now stood within striking distance of both the realm’s most feared prince and the largest dragon in the capital.

“I spoke no falsehood,” he said, spreading his hands in mocking innocence. “The man is what he is. A rider born with no drop of royal blood, yet favored alike by prince and dragon. Is truth now counted treason in this court?”

Rin’s gaze sharpened to ice.

“Truth becomes insult,” he said, his voice cold as ice, “when spoken by a fool seeking to provoke.”

Shidou laughed under his breath.

“There he is.” His head tilted, wolfish and eager. “Prince Rin at last. Men whisper that armies tremble when you so much as glance their way, they say that kings bend the knee sooner than meet your wrath.”

He took another deliberate step forward.

“I wished to know whether the tales held any truth.”

The glow along Nyracs’s scales flared brighter, streaks of white lightning crawling over her vast body like cracks splitting through a midnight sky. Heat rolled outward from her in waves strong enough to sting the skin.

Across the chamber, Vaelith lifted his head from Hiori’s shoulder and released a low, thunderous growl of warning.

Bachira’s golden eyes sparkled with unconcealed delight.

“Are they about to fight?”

“No,” Reo answered with the grim exhaustion of a man abandoned by every god in heaven. “We are about to perish.”

Slowly, Rin turned to face Shidou fully. The cold in his gaze could have frozen oceans.

“Take one step more,” he said, his voice quiet as falling ash, “and I shall show you whether the songs speak true.”

For the first time, the dragonkeepers looked genuinely afraid but Shidou only grinned wider with ecstatic madness flickering across his face. His hand drifted lazily toward the dagger resting at his belt.

“Oh, I should very much like to see - ”

“That,” came a smooth voice from above, “would be profoundly unwise.”

Sae descended from the upper platform he had disappeared off to, with measured grace, red hair gleaming nearly orange beneath the fire of a nearby torch. His expression remained composed, almost bored, yet his eyes were colder than winter seas crashing against black stone.

The Crown Prince came to stand between them, entirely certain no harm would dare pass him.

He regarded Shidou with faint, detached pity, as one might regard a man strolling blindfolded toward the edge of a cliff.

“You are newly arrived at court,” Sae said evenly. “I should regret seeing one of the realm’s High Riders torn apart before sunset.”

Shidou’s grin sharpened. “You believe I would lose?”

Sae did not even blink. “I do not speak things I know to be false.”

Bachira slapped a hand over his mouth to smother an incredulous laugh.

Isagi stared openly, looking as though he had just witnessed a man willingly place his head beneath an executioner’s axe.

Reo looked moments from collapsing in relief.

Sae folded his hands neatly behind his back. “If you cross blades with my brother,” he continued, “you will lose.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward Rin. “And it will not be a battle worthy of song.”

For a heartbeat, Shidou stood perfectly still.

Then, to everyone’s astonishment, he threw back his head and laughed.

The sound rang through the chamber, loud and wild and utterly delighted, echoing off ancient stone and iron.

“Gods above,” he said, wiping a tear from the corner of one eye. “I think I like this family.”

Rin appeared wholly unconvinced.

Shidou placed a hand upon his chest and bowed with exaggerated flourish.

“Very well, Your Highness. I shall spare your pride on this day.”

“You mistake my restraint for mercy,” Rin replied flatly.

“Perhaps.” Shidou straightened slowly, eyes glittering with dangerous amusement. “Yet one day, I would still like to test you.”

Rin turned from him dismissively, resting his hand once more against Nyracs’s scales. At his touch, the dragon’s rumbling eased.

“When you acquire better judgment,” Rin said without looking back, “come and find me.”

Shidou’s smile widened like a starving man promised a feast.

Somewhere deeper within the cavern, another dragon let out a distant cry.

Then slowly, like a beast deciding at last not to devour those standing within its jaws, the chamber returned to motion.

Handlers emerged once more along the platforms. Guards resumed their posts. Dragonkeepers moved carefully between chains and flame-blackened stone, though more than a few still cast wary glances toward Shidou and Rin.

Sae issued a short command in the old language.

At once, attendants began guiding the High Riders toward the upper passageways carved into the cliffside above the caverns, where the guest chambers overlooked sea and sky alike.

Reo immediately stepped forward, attempting with diminishing success to maintain some semblance of order amongst the group.

Isagi followed close behind him, already asking practical questions regarding flight routes, patrol schedules, and anything else that came to mind.

Bachira, meanwhile, continued drifting dangerously close to the dragons as though drawn by divine punishment itself.

At one point, a handler physically redirected him away from Nyracs’s tail.

Nagi needed to be prompted twice before remembering he was expected to continue walking.

“You neglected to introduce the big one properly,” Shidou remarked lazily as they climbed the stone passage, jerking a thumb back toward Nyracs.

Rin did not so much as glance at him.

“You continue to draw breath,” he said coolly. “Consider that introduction sufficient.”

Shidou barked a laugh beneath his breath.

“Gods, I find myself liking you more with every passing moment.”

“That,” Rin replied flatly, “is misfortune for us both.”

Behind them, Hiori caught up with ease, hands tucked loosely behind him.

High above, Vaelith lingered amongst the upper rafters of the cavern, vast wings folded as he watched them depart like a shadow unwilling to part from its chosen company.
—

The remainder of the day vanished beneath the weight of court and command.

By midday, Rin had attended three separate council meetings.

One concerned the eastern fleets. Another, grain levies from the southern territories. The third devolved into two aging lords nearly coming to blows over dragonfeed allocations.

By afternoon, he had reviewed border reports twice over, corrected an entire memorandum drafted by a careless councillor, and stood through an increasingly painful argument between two senior officers regarding patrol routes along the Stepstones.

Neither man noticed they had begun repeating themselves.

Hiori stood quietly beside Rin during the latter half of the discussion.

Unfortunately for the officers, Rin’s patience expired before theirs did.

“If either of you repeats the phrase ‘supply redistribution’ one more time,” Rin said at last, voice flat as winter stone and tired as a man twice his age, “I shall personally feed both of you to Nyracs and improve our ration problem considerably.”

Evening came slowly.

The training grounds below the fortress rang with the distant clash of steel as the newly arrived riders were tested against veteran guardsmen. 

Shidou attempted with catastrophic lack of wisdom to provoke Rin into sparring before three captains of the royal guard.

“You refuse because you fear embarrassing yourself before your men?” he asked lazily, spinning a dagger through his fingers.

Rin regarded him with the same expression one might reserve for a particularly irritating insect.

“No,” he replied. “I refuse because the paperwork following your death would inconvenience me.”

Reo devoted most of his evening to preventing Bachira from “making allies” with one of the guard hounds after the creature nearly removed a stableboy’s arm.

“But he likes me,” Bachira whined in protest while the massive black beast growled ominously beside him.

Nagi vanished entirely for nearly an hour.

After a brief panic amongst the attendants, he was eventually discovered asleep upon a sun-warmed ledge overlooking the dragon platforms, one arm dangling over open air while dragons passed overhead like drifting storms.

No one could determine how he had reached the ledge in the first place.
—

By the hour Rin was finally able to return to his chambers, the stronghold had fallen into the hush that often came with nightfall. 

The corridors beyond lay drowned in shadow and torchlight, the great keep seeming less a fortress and more a slumbering beast curled beneath the dark..

Rin did not slow his stride until the chamber door shut behind him with a heavy click.

He stood near the door for a moment, shoulders drawn taut beneath the weight of his court blacks, his jaw clenched hard enough to ache. The air itself seemed tight around him, thick with the remnants of council chambers, sharp words, and burdens spoken in tones too grave.

Hiori entered after him, closing the door with the familiarity of one who had crossed that threshold a thousand times before. He moved with no stiffness, where others bowed before the prince, Hiori merely stepped beside him as natural as breathing.

“You look as though you mean to bite through castle steel,” Hiori said lightly, already shrugging free of his coat and tossing it across a carved chair near the hearth.

Rin cast him a dull, unimpressed glance. “I am fine.”

“Mhm.” Hiori’s eyes lingered over him, knowing and unconvinced. “Forgive my lack of trust in your words but in my experience that is what men say moments before they collapse dead upon the floor.”

Rin gave a quiet scoff.

For a brief moment Hiori simply watched him. The prince stood rigid beside the table, dark hair disheveled from the wind beyond the mountain passes, silver clasps still fastened high at his throat like shackles he had forgotten to remove. 

Even now, safe within his own chambers, he carried himself as though the council still sat before him waiting for answers only he could give.

Hiori stepped closer then, reaching up to the clasps around the prince’s neck.

“Let me,” he said as he began unclasping the metal.

There was no servant’s obedience in the gesture, nor any courtly formality.

His fingers moved deftly against the dark fastening at Rin’s throat, loosening one clasp, then the next. Metal clicked softly in the quiet chamber. The stiff fabric parted little by little, easing from Rin’s neck and shoulders where tension had settled like iron chains.

Rin remained still beneath his hands, staring somewhere beyond Hiori’s shoulder toward nothing at all. 

The heavy outer layer slipped from his shoulders at last, and Hiori guided it carefully away, folding the garment with more reverence than most men gave holy banners. He laid it aside upon the chair rather than letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Beneath the remaining lighter layers was soft dark linen meant for movement rather than ceremony, though even these bore the marks of a long day. Hiori worked at them slowly, patient as ever, loosening belts and leather ties stiff from cold winds.

As the last of the weight came away, Rin rolled one shoulder, then the other, a quiet breath escaping him. 

Piece by piece, the armor of the day was stripped away from the prince, until what remained was just a man.

Hiori gave a low hum beneath his breath, fingertips drifting across the long scratches that marked Rin’s bare back. Some had already begun to fade into pale red lines beneath the firelight, though a few deeper ones still stood angry against his skin.

The prince stood unmoving before him, broad shoulders bare now save for the glow of the fire spilling gold across them.

“I do wonder,” Hiori mused softly, tracing one mark with the tip of his finger, “who was able to leave such grievous wounds upon the most feared warrior in the realm?”

Rin glanced back over one shoulder, eyes cool and wholly unimpressed despite the fact Hiori’s hand rested against the evidence of their poor restraint the night before.

“You did,” he said flatly.

Hiori considered this with all the gravity of a maester pondering war.

“Mm. A monstrous offense.” His mouth curved faintly. “Though whoever committed it sounds exceedingly handsome.”

Rin turned more fully then, one brow lifting in quiet judgment.

“You speak of yourself with remarkable confidence.”

“Someone must.” His thumb brushed once against warm skin. “Besides, you looked very beautiful above me. I cannot claim regret for what followed.”

Rin held his stare as though weighing whether scolding him for insolence was worth it.

There were victories greater than battles, Hiori thought.

Hiori rested a hand lightly against his shoulder and nudged him toward the bed.

“Sit.”

Rin narrowed his eyes at once. “You address me like an ill-tempered healer.”

“You say that as though I have not spent half my life tending the consequences of your catastrophically foolish decisions.”

“I am not foolish.”

Outside the tower windows came the distant roar of a dragon somewhere high above the cliffs, rattling faintly through the stone beneath their feet. 

Hiori folded his arms. “Yesterday,” he said, “you leapt from a balcony onto a moving dragon.”

“Nyracs was directly beneath me,” Rin replied, as though this resolved every possible concern.

Hiori stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed with the weariness of a man abandoned by the gods themselves.

“One day, I swear it, I shall write a history entitled The Tragic Life of a Knight Condemned to Love a Complete Idiot.”

Rin’s expression flattened once more, though amusement still lingered traitorously at the edges of it.

“At least make the title shorter,” he muttered.

At last Rin sat upon the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight. Firelight flickered across the planes of his face, softening the harshness carved there by duty and exhaustion alike. 

Hiori stepped between his knees then, resting his hands lightly upon the prince’s shoulders.

The chamber had fallen quiet around them.

Only the crackle of the hearth remained, warm and low, mingling with the distant sea beyond the windows and the ancient breathing of dragons somewhere in the dark.

Rin leaned forward at last until his forehead came to rest against Hiori’s stomach.

Rin had always done this when the weight of the world threatened to crush him beneath it. Not before courts or councils — certainly never where eyes could see — but here, in stolen moments between battles and burdens. A hand finding Hiori’s wrist beneath council tables whilst lords droned endlessly on, or those rare nights when Rin would wake sharp-breathed from dreams full of blood and war, reaching for him before his eyes had even opened.

The very thing noble houses and war generals alike feared, bent before him like a man too weary to keep himself standing.

Hiori’s expression softened into something almost aching.

He slid his fingers into Rin’s dark hair, untangling strands left wild by wind and dragonback. The prince exhaled against him, a warm breath seeping faintly through the linen of Hiori’s shirt.

He tilted his head slightly. “Tell me, did the fearsome High Riders survive their first day at court?”

Rin’s reply came muffled against him, roughened by exhaustion. “Barely.”

Hiori smiled faintly. “And Shidou?”

“I contemplated killing him thrice.”

A huffed laugh escaped him, “That few?”

Rin made a low sound that might have been amusement.

His arms slid fully around Hiori’s waist, holding him with the unconscious desperation of a man who had spent the entire day drowning beneath politics, strategy, and expectation and now needed something warm.

“You know,” Hiori murmured, scratching slowly through his hair, “for a prince who inspires terror across half the known kingdoms, you are astonishingly clingy.”

Rin did not lift his head.

“You may leave, if it displeases you.”

“Seven gods preserve me from such suffering.” Hiori bent slightly, pressing a lingering kiss into his dark hair. “However would I endure it?”

Rin hummed softly beneath him, the sound was dangerously close to contentment.

Hiori smiled to himself at that. Then, gently, he nudged the prince backward.

Rin finally looked up, brows drawing together faintly in confusion as Hiori guided him toward the mattress.

“Hiori - ”

“No.”

There was strength beneath the softness as Hiori pressed both hands against his shoulders and pushed him flat upon the bed.

“You, my love, are finished being a prince tonight.”

Before the other man could argue, Hiori climbed onto the bed after him, settling easily across Rin’s lap, knees bracketing his hips whilst firelight spilled molten gold across them both.

Rin stared up at him with an expression of profound unimpressed dignity.

“You abuse your authority.”

“Shamelessly.” Hiori rested his hands against Rin’s chest. “Now lie there and look beautiful whilst I decide whether your personality is forgivable.”

Rin’s hands slid to Hiori’s waist unconsciously.

“You proposed marriage to me yesterday,” Hiori continued, his tone carrying amusement and near disbelief as he recalled the past day. “And hours later threatened to remove a man’s head in my honor.”

“I recall the conversation.”

Hiori laughed softly, shaking his head.

Rin simply looked up at him then.

The firelight caught in his teal eyes, turning them amber at the edges, softer now than the cold steel gaze he wore before councils and soldiers. Here, there was no prince carved from duty and dragonfire. 

And as Hiori looked down at him, hands resting against his chest whilst the sea roared far below the cliffs and dragons sang to the night beyond the tower walls, there came the familiar, terrifying realization that there was nothing in this world he would not do for the man beneath him.

Hiori lifted a hand slowly, brushing his thumb along the sharp line of Rin’s cheekbone. The prince leaned into the touch by the barest measure, so slight another man might have missed it entirely.

“You're staring at me,” he murmured.

Rin’s eyes remained fixed upon his.

“You were staring as well” he replied, voice low and quiet in the firelit dark.

“Well.” His mouth curved as he leaned downward, slow enough for Rin to stop him if he wished, until scarcely a breath existed between them. “That does sound grave indeed.”

Their mouths met gently, a quiet ache of two souls who had chosen one another long before either dared speak it aloud.

Hiori kissed him slowly, savoring the softness of his mouth, the warmth of Rin’s hands tightening ever so slightly at his waist.

The world beyond the chamber faded, the sea, the dragons, the realm itself.

There was only this.

When they parted, Hiori rested his head briefly against Rin’s shoulder, smiling despite himself.

“There you are.”

Rin’s brow furrowed faintly as his fingers drifted absentmindedly against Hiori’s side.

“Who?”

“The man beneath all this terrifying prince business.”

Hiori’s finger continued to draw meaningless paths over his lover's chest.

A quiet huff of laughter escaped Rin through his nose, low and warm.

“You seem quite determined to ruin my reputation.”

“I believe your reputation survives solely because no one else is permitted to witness this version of you.” Hiori tapped lightly against his chest. “The one who secretly enjoys being cared for.”

Rin narrowed his eyes immediately.

Though whatever sharp retort he meant to offer lost much of its threat when Hiori could still feel the warmth lingering beneath his hands.

“You are insufferable.”

“And yet,” Hiori murmured, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth, “you intend to wed me.”

Something shifted in Rin’s expression, a dangerous sort of softness that only existed only for Hiori and would likely vanish the moment dawn returned.

“You accepted,” Rin said quietly.

Hiori smiled, unable to help it.

“A tragic lapse in judgment, truly.” He brushed another strand of dark hair back from Rin’s face. “Though I fear it is far too late to flee now.”

Rin’s hands slid higher along his waist, pulling up some of Hiori’s shirt with it.

“Quite bold of you to assume I would let you get far.”

With firelight dancing gold across stone and Rin looking at him as though he hung the very stars above the kingdom, Hiori thought he would gladly remain here forever.
—

Rin woke sometime deep within the night, when the world beyond the tower still lay swallowed by darkness and the hearth had burned low to soft embers glowing red beneath ash.

His mind lingered hazy with sleep, caught somewhere between dreams and waking, whilst the distant sound of the sea rolled endlessly against the cliffs below the stronghold.

When he opened his eyes fully he found Hiori curled tightly against his chest, still deep in sleep.

One arm remained slung possessively across Rin’s waist, fingers digging into his back as though even unconsciousness could not convince him to let go entirely. Light lashes rested against his cheeks, softened by sleep and firelight alike.

Rin had awakened to this sight more times than he could count over the years yet somehow it never failed to undo him.

Every time, his heart turned over within his chest with the same helpless wonder. A feeling dangerously akin to the awe of a boy seeing his first dragon rise screaming into the sky.

It was absurd, he had stood amidst war councils without fear. Faced down ancient beasts wreathed in flame. Looked hardened generals in the eye and watched them falter beneath his gaze but somehow, this man sleeping against him could reduce him to silence by simply existing.

Rin’s eyes lingered over him shamelessly.

The loosened blue strands of Hiori’s hair spilled across the pillows like clouds, half-shadowed in the dim chamber light. There remained the faintest crease between his brows even in sleep, as though some part of him still worried endlessly over the prince beside him.

Had things not awaited him elsewhere, he might have remained there until dawn simply watching him breathe.

But alas, plans did not cease merely because he wished to linger in bed beside the man he loved.

Carefully Rin began disentangling himself from Hiori’s hold.

The knight made a faint sound of displeasure in his sleep when the warmth began to leave him, his grip tightening briefly around Rin before finally loosening enough to allow escape.

He slipped from the bed soundlessly, bare feet meeting cold stone whilst the sea wind whispered faintly through the tower windows. The chill bit immediately against skin still warm from sleep and shared heat.

Behind him, Hiori shifted once amongst the blankets but did not wake.

Rin glanced back regardless.

Only after assuring himself the other man still slept peacefully did he move toward the chair near the hearth where discarded clothing had been abandoned hours earlier.

He gathered the nearest garments that appeared reasonably clean, dressing quickly he fastened the clasps at his wrists and throat. Even half-awake, he moved like a prince born to discipline.

Before leaving, he looked back one final time.

Hiori remained sprawled across the bed, occupying entirely too much space for one man, blankets tangled around his legs and one arm still extended vaguely toward the empty space Rin had occupied moments before.

Then, quietly, he stepped from the chamber.

The corridors beyond lay dim beneath wavering torchlight. Silence draped itself heavily across the stronghold at such an hour, broken only by the distant groan of old stone and the thunderous breathing of dragons somewhere far below in the caverns carved into the cliffs.

Rin walked carefully through the sleeping keep, his steps measured against the ancient floors.

A pair of guards stationed near the stairwell straightened immediately at the sight of him, fists striking their chests in salute.

“My prince.”

Rin inclined his head once in acknowledgment as he passed.

He moved through the sleeping stronghold in silence, torchlight spilling in long ribbons of gold across the ancient stone beneath his feet.

Yet his thoughts were no longer upon the halls around him. They drifted instead toward the dragon chambers earlier that evening.

Toward that damned title.

Bastard Rider.

Even now, the words struck something sharp and vicious within his chest.

Rin had hated the name from the very first moment he heard it spoken.

He remembered it clearly.

A council chamber drowned in candlelight. Lords seated in velvet and steel. The smell of smoke, parchment, and fire lingering heavily in the air after word had spread that a knight — an insignificant young guard with no dragonlord blood to his name — had somehow bonded with one of the royal hatchlings.

Rin had been fifteen then, seated beside his father in uncomfortable ceremonial silks, too young still for men to realize how dangerous he could become.

Yet he remembered hearing the words hissed beneath one councilman’s breath all the same.

“Bastard Rider.”

Spoken like an insult, something filthy.

To this day, he still regretted not carving the man’s tongue from his mouth before the entire council.

Hiori had been a High Rider in every way that mattered.

Dragon and rider were chosen by no law of men. Only dragons themselves could make that decision, and Vaelith had chosen, that truth should have been enough.

But the court was ever filled with cowards who mistook bloodlines for worth.

Rin descended another winding stairwell, expression darkening at the memory.

He could still recall the day the bond formed as though it had happened yesterday.

The dragon chambers had been warm with smoke and heat, lined with black stone slick from centuries of dragonfire. Young hatchlings had prowled amongst piles of scorched bones and scattered gold, restless and shrieking in the dim torchlight.

Rin had gone there to tend to Nyracs, as he always did after lessons, and naturally, Hiori had followed.

It had begun ordinarily enough until Vaelith decided otherwise that is.

The hatchling had been scarcely two years old then, lean-limbed and wild, only a bit larger than a foal yet already temperamental enough to send stable boys fleeing in terror. Dark blue scales gleamed beneath the torchlight as the creature stalked directly toward Hiori with unsettling focus.

At first, they had thought little of it when Vaelith began clawing insistently at Hiori’s boots.

Hiori had frowned, nudging the hatchling away with visible confusion.

“You have mistaken me for someone else.”

Vaelith had responded by biting the hem of his pants and refusing to release him.

Rin could still remember laughing, he had laughed so hard his stomach ached.

The hatchling followed him everywhere afterward.

Through the caverns, up the stairways, out into the castle yard itself. He had stuck to the knight like molten tar, impossible to scrape free.

And before sunset, every soul within the stronghold knew.

The outrage had been immediate.

A common-born guard had bonded to a royal dragon.

The council had nearly torn itself apart screaming over it.

Some claimed it an ill omen, others called it sacrilege. One particularly ancient lord who died mere weeks after that meeting had declared the bond an act of treason against the crown itself.

Several demanded Hiori’s execution before dawn.

Rin had argued until his throat bled raw from it.

But at fifteen, his voice carried little weight beside elder lords. They had spoken over him as though he were still nothing more than a temperamental young prince.

His brother had sat silent through much of the chaos, cold-eyed and unreadable whilst the council raged around him.

“If the dragon chose him,” Sae had said evenly, his voice breaking through the shouting of the council. “Then the gods themselves have already rendered judgment. Unless one amongst you intends to dispute a dragon’s will.”

No man had dared challenge him.

That single sentence had spared Hiori’s life and allowed him to keep Vaelith at his side.

Yet though the accusations ceased openly after that day, the title endured.

Bastard Rider.

Like rot hidden beneath silk.

The next time Rin heard it, he had been sixteen and still healing from the border skirmish that had left his side stitched closed and half the court whispering over whether the prince would survive through the summer.

He and Hiori had been crossing one of the training yards together when an older soldier muttered curses beneath his breath at the sight of them.

“Bloody Bastard Rider…”

One moment the man stood amongst the others laughing to himself, and the next, blood sprayed hot across the yard stones.

The soldier’s head rolled across the courtyard before his body even knew it had died.

Screaming erupted afterward. Men stumbling backward in horror, the sounds of someone retching.

Rin remembered only the cold satisfaction of it.

The man had insulted what belonged to him.

That alone had sealed his fate.

Afterward, none dared speak the title openly within Rin’s vicinity again.

Fear accomplished what royal decrees could not.

Yet whispers still lingered in dark corners of the castle. Conversations halted when he entered rooms, and murmurs died the instant his footsteps approached.

Hiori always pretended not to notice.

“It does not trouble me,” he would say lightly whenever Rin’s untamed temper threatened bloodshed once more. “I have been called far worse things by better men.”

But Rin knew him too well for such lies.

It filled Rin with a fury so violent it frightened even him at times.

Dragons did not care for blood, Vaelith had chosen Hiori freely.

And any man who dared question that choice was fortunate the prince had learned greater restraint with age.

The corridor outside the Crown Prince’s chambers lay steeped in silence.

Guards posted at the far end of the hall straightened at the Prince’s approach, fists striking breastplates in silent salute before lowering their eyes at once.

Rin scarcely noticed them.

His mind remained elsewhere, far too occupied by one insufferable knight currently asleep in his bed.

Hiori, warm beneath heavy furs, voice rough with exhaustion and laughter as he lay sprawled against Rin’s chest.

“If we are apparently to be wed now, should you not give me a ring, my prince?”

It had been a joke, nothing more.

And yet the moment Hiori spoke, Rin had known precisely which ring he wished to place upon his hand.

A slender silver band crowned with a dark teal stone, worn by the queens of their bloodline for generations before their mother had claimed it as her own, and after her death Sae had quietly taken possession of it before the council could lock the thing away among the royal treasures like another relic to gather dust beside dead kings.

He raised one hand and knocked once.

Silence.

A faint crease formed between his brows.

Sae was rarely asleep before dawn these days. The Crown Prince spent half his nights drowning beneath council reports and military correspondence, and the other half glaring at maps as though strategy alone could prevent kingdoms from bleeding each other dry.

More importantly, Sae had always slept lightly, like a dragon guarding gold.

Rin knocked again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

Annoyance flickered sharp and cold through him.

A thin line of warm light beneath the doors. Rin stared at it for one long moment.

“So,” he murmured flatly, “you are ignoring me deliberately.”

His patience died immediately thereafter. Clicking his tongue beneath his breath, Rin reached for the handle and shoved the door open and instantly wished the gods had struck him blind.

For one catastrophic heartbeat, the entire world ceased to move.

Sae was indeed awake.

Unfortunately, so was Shidou.

The Crown Prince sat against the edge of a long carved table near the balcony doors, composure in absolute ruin. His pale undershirt hung loose and open at the throat, hair thoroughly disordered in a manner Rin had previously believed physically impossible.

Shidou stood between Sae’s knees bare-chested and smug beyond reason.

And very clearly in the middle of kissing Rin’s elder brother.

For one long, catastrophic heartbeat, no man in the room moved.

Rin had seen battlefields less horrifying.

Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked back out. The chamber doors slammed shut with enough force to shake dust from the stone ceiling.

One breath.

Two.

Three.

The doors flew open again, and Rin strode back into the chamber.

Shidou had not moved at all.

If anything, the pink-haired rider looked even more delighted now, ruby eyes bright with wicked amusement as though the gods themselves had gifted him this moment personally.

Sae, meanwhile, had somehow regained nearly all composure in the span of mere seconds, which Rin found deeply unnatural.

The Crown Prince now stood upright beside the table, one hand folded behind his back while the other adjusted the sleeve of his undershirt with infuriating calm. Only the loosened collar and slightly flushed throat betrayed what Rin had interrupted.

Rin wished very deeply to return to five seconds ago, when he still possessed ignorance.

“What,” Rin said at last, his voice completely mortified,“is this?”

Shidou’s grin widened into something outright monstrous.

“Your brother possesses a truly impressive dic - ”

“Finish that sentence,” Sae interrupted coolly, “and I shall have Vermore drop you into the sea.”

Rin looked physically pained to exist.

Sae pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.

“Rin,” he said carefully, with the exhausted restraint of an elder brother standing one breath away from homicide, “why are you here?”

For perhaps the first time in years, Rin appeared genuinely incapable of forming coherent thought.

“I came for mother’s ring,” he said finally, each word sounding dragged unwillingly from his soul.

Sae’s hand dropped from his face at once. All traces of irritation vanished from the Crown Prince’s expression with alarming speed, replaced first by surprise, then suspicion.

“And what,” Sae asked slowly, eyes narrowing upon his younger brother with terrible precision, “do you require Mother’s ring for?”

Shidou was quick to fall silent.

Which, Rin thought distantly, was perhaps the most alarming development of the night.

The pink-haired rider’s gaze flicked between the brothers, sharp and eager now, like a hound scenting blood upon the wind.

Realization began to dawn across his face, piece by piece.

“Oh,” Shidou breathed.

Sae folded his arms across his chest. “Rin.”

The single word carried all the weight of an interrogation.

Rin clicked his tongue softly against his teeth. “It is none of your concern.”

“Mm,” Sae replied. “Then it is absolutely my concern.”

Shidou looked moments away from ascending to another plane of existence from sheer excitement.

“No,” he whispered, staring openly at Rin now. “Surely not.”

Rin’s glare could have frozen wildfire.

“You are not telling me,” he said, voice rising with delighted disbelief, “that the terrifying Prince Rin has gone and fallen in love?”

Rin looked one breath away from murder.

Sae stood motionless near the carved table now, eyes fixed wholly upon his younger brother.

And Rin knew at once he had spoken too much.

Sae had always possessed the terrible habit of seeing directly through people, peeling truth apart layer by layer until only the heart of it remained exposed and bleeding before him.

Rin had hated that particular talent since childhood.

Across the chamber, Shidou’s bright gaze darted between the brothers with growing delight, the expression of a man realizing he had stumbled headfirst into royal scandal and intended to enjoy every glorious moment of it.

“Oh,” Shidou breathed, sounding almost reverent. “This is more entertaining by the second.”

“Silence,” both brothers snapped at once, the words cracking through the room like twin sword strikes.

Shidou looked delighted by that too.

Sae exhaled once through his nose before straightening fully from the table. Without so much as glancing at him, he shoved Shidou aside with one hand.

The pink-haired rider stumbled back half a step, laughing under his breath all the while, looking absurdly pleased to still possess consciousness.

Sae ignored him entirely.

“You,” the Crown Prince said carefully, his gaze never leaving Rin’s face, “came here seeking mother’s ring.”

Rin folded his arms across his chest, already sounding irritated with the existence of this conversation.

“Have you gone so deaf you were unable to hear my words?”

Sae’s expression did not change. “And for what purpose?”

Outside, wind slammed violently against the balcony doors hard enough to rattle the glass panes within their iron frames.

The chamber suddenly felt far too warm.

Shidou wandered toward one of the stone pillars nearby and leaned lazily against it like a spectator settling in for a mummer’s play.

“I swear before all the gods,” he mused aloud, “if the prince is secretly wedding the knight, I may truly die of happiness.”

Rin’s head snapped toward him instantly. The look in his teal eyes could have stopped a man’s heart.

His grin widened into something absolutely feral.

“No,” he whispered, staring at Rin in dawning disbelief. “No fucking way.”

“Ryusei,” Sae warned, voice edged now with genuine danger. 

The doors of the prince’s solar had scarce ceased their groaning upon the hinges when Shidou barked a laugh sharp enough to cut through the chamber like a drawn blade.

“You mean to wed the Bastard Rider?”

The words had hardly left his mouth before the air itself seemed to split.

Rin moved with the swiftness of a striking viper. One heartbeat he stood across the chamber beside the hearth, all cold stillness and silver fury beneath the torchlight, and the next, Shidou’s back slammed hard against the ancient stone wall with a crack that sent dust and mortar raining to the floor.

Rin’s forearm pressed across Shidou’s throat with such brutal force that the stone behind him groaned beneath the weight. His other hand braced against the wall beside Shidou’s head, caging him there like a beast prepared to tear out a man’s throat for sport.

Yet Shidou — madman that he was — only grinned.

“You,” Rin said, his voice soft as snowfall and twice as deadly, “shall cease naming him a bastard in my presence.”

Even the fire seemed to shrink from him.

For the first time since entering the room, Shidou truly looked at the prince. 

This was the sort of devotion men killed kingdoms for.

Across the chamber, Sae exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound measured and faintly weary, as though he had long since accepted that dragons were easier creatures to govern than either of these men. Reclining languidly beside the carved table, he lifted his eyes toward his brother.

“Rin,” he said calmly, smooth as silk over steel, “release him before you redecorate my chambers with my rider’s corpse.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. His gaze remained fixed upon Shidou with naked murderous intent, dark and terrible enough to chill the blood. Then, with visible restraint, he stepped back at last.

Shidou dragged in a rough breath, coughing once as he rolled his shoulders against the wall. His fingers brushed the reddening marks already blooming upon his throat, though there remained not a single ounce of fear in his expression.

Quite the opposite.

“That,” he rasped, sounding genuinely awed, “may well be the most romantic thing anyone has ever done.”

Sae closed his eyes briefly, as though beseeching the gods for patience.

Rin, meanwhile, looked one insult away from committing regicide before breakfast.

Sae pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose as though warding off a headache brought on by the sheer stupidity of the men standing before him. The fire crackled low within the hearth, painting the prince’s chambers in amber and shadow, while beyond the tall windows the sea winds howled faintly against the towers.

“I confess,” the Crown Prince murmured at last, voice dry as old parchment, “I cannot decide whether the gods mean to punish me or whether they are merely bored beyond reason.”

Shidou turned to him at once, pointing toward Rin, “Did you know?”

“No,” Sae replied without inflection. “Yet unlike you, I was born possessing eyes and a functioning mind.”

Shidou opened his mouth to protest, but Sae continued before he could. His cool gaze drifted toward his younger brother, sharp and unnervingly perceptive.

“The disappearances at unholy hours,” Sae began, counting each offense with calm precision. “Hiori watches every council session as though deciding which lord ought to be fed to dragons first. The fact you have trusted him at your back unguarded for years.”

“Truth be told, Rin, subtlety has never been among your gifts.”

Rin looked personally insulted by this assessment.

Shidou, meanwhile, looked positively radiant.

“You are truly in love with him,” he said, sounding almost reverent beneath the delight.

Rin’s expression went cold and flat comically quick, “And what concern is that of yours?”

“The concern of a man witnessing history,” Shidou declared. “You threatened to crush my windpipe because I insulted your beloved.”

Sae moved away before the conversation could deteriorate further into madness. Crossing the chamber with measured steps, he approached one of the ancient carved cabinets set into the stone wall. Dragons twisted through the dark wood, their jeweled eyes gleaming red in the firelight.

He knelt and opened the lower compartment.

From within, he withdrew a small wooden case lacquered black with age. Time had worn the corners smooth beneath careful hands.

When Sae spoke again, the sharp edge had faded from his voice.

“You are serious in this?”

Rin met his brother’s gaze, “Yes.”

Something flickered across Sae’s face then, brief as candlelight against water and gone too quickly to name.

Their mother had once loved in much the same manner. Fiercely, unwisely, and without regard for what the realm expected of her. The council had named it recklessness. Their father had named it weakness.

But Sae still remembered her kneeling beside Rin’s bed one winter evening when the younger prince had insisted Sae help put him to bed. Gold rings glittered in her hair as she told him softly,

‘The cruelest fate a royal may suffer is to belong to every soul in the realm save themselves.’

Looking upon Rin now, Sae did not see the prince men whispered of in fear, merely his younger brother.

Behind them, Shidou leaned forward curiously, peering toward the box in Sae’s hands.

“Wait,” he said. “Is there an actual ring?”

“Yes,” Sae answered dryly, drawing himself away from the memory. “Certain noble houses conduct courtship without attempted murder.”

For a moment Rin simply stared at it before taking it carefully into his hands, as though it were something fragile enough to shatter.

Inside rested the slender silver ring crowned with a deep teal stone dark as the midnight sea. Firelight danced across its polished surface, scattering blue-green light over Rin’s fingers like dragonfire reflected upon water.

Sae watched him in silence before speaking, “You were forever enamored of her ring when you were a child.”

Rin’s thumb brushed lightly across the stone, he hummed. “I remember.”

“You used to steal it from her jewelry table.”

“I always returned it.”

“Yes,” Sae said. “After hiding beneath my bed for half the day because you feared I would tell Father.”

At this, Shidou looked between them with unconcealed fascination.

“You had a normal childhood?” he asked incredulously. “Gods above. I find that difficult to believe.”

Neither brother acknowledged him.

Rin closed the box with utmost care. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Sae inclined his head once, the gesture small yet sincere.

The moment passed, as swiftly as it had come.

“Now,” the Crown Prince said, already reaching once more for his goblet.

“Get out.”
—

Rin crossed the path back to his room in the same silence in which he had departed it.

Beyond the narrow windows of the corridor, the sea lay black beneath the moon, waves crashing far below the cliffs like distant thunder. 

His hand drifted once more toward the pocket of his coat.

The ring remained there.

He checked again regardless, then scrunched his face in how foolish the sentiment was.

Rin exhaled softly through his nose at himself, though the motion did little to quiet the strange tightness lodged beneath his ribs. The small lacquered box felt heavier than steel against his side.

For years he had walked these halls carrying swords, commands, death sentences but none had ever made him this uneasy.

The guards stationed outside the doors straightened once more, though one look at the prince’s expression convinced them not to speak. 

The chamber beyond glowed dimly in the firelight.

Hiori sat upright in the bed.

His blue hair was thoroughly disordered, blankets tangled around his waist as though he had waged war upon them. Candlelight caught the sharp rise and fall of his breathing. The moment the door creaked open, his head snapped toward it with startling speed.

Relief struck his face so suddenly it bordered upon painful.

“Where in the Seven Hells have you been?” Hiori demanded, voice rough with sleep and edged plainly with panic.

He shoved the blankets aside and rose, barefoot against the cold stone floor. He crossed the room quickly, agitation radiating from him in waves.

“I woke and found your side of the bed empty,” he continued, already halfway toward Rin. “Do you possess any notion of what horrors the mind conjures at such an hour?”

“You were sleeping,” Rin shut the door quietly behind him.

“Yes, well, I ceased sleeping the moment my prince vanished into darkness like the opening verse of some doomed ballad!”

Hiori reached him immediately. Both hands seized Rin’s shoulders with enough force to halt him where he stood, sharp eyes searching his face.

“Are you wounded?”

“No.”

“Certain?”

“Yes.”

Hiori held his gaze on him for a long, breath-still moment, suspicion and lingering fear warring openly across his face like two blades locked at the throat.

“You asshole,” he said darkly.

As if the words alone were not sufficient justice, he raised his hand and smacked Rin over the head. Once, twice, “I thought someone had finally succeeded in murdering you!”

Rin endured exactly three of the blows, on the fourth swing, he caught Hiori’s wrist mid-air.

“You are behaving irrationally,” he said evenly, like he were commenting on the weather rather than being assaulted.

“Irrationally?” Hiori stared at him in disbelief, breath quickened, eyes bright with lingering alarm. “You disappeared in the dead of night whilst the realm becomes a nest of vipers and daggers. What would you have me think? That you went wandering for pleasure?”

“I went to speak with Sae.”

At that, Hiori’s eyes narrowed immediately, sharp as a drawn blade. “At this hour?”

“You were sleeping,” Rin said, as though it were reason enough to excuse all concern. “I did not see the point of waking you.”

Hiori exhaled sharply through his nose and dragged a hand through his already disordered hair, making it worse in the way only true frustration could manage.

“You are impossible,” he muttered. “Vanishing in the middle of the night.”

Rin gave a single, slight nod. It was neither defiance nor defense, only acceptance. As though the charges were already judged and recorded.

Hiori stared at him for another long, searching moment. Then, with a sound halfway between a groan and surrender, he stepped forward.

He closed the distance in an instant and pressed himself against Rin, abruptly as though only touch could verify reality. As though if Rin were truly here, warm and solid beneath his hands, then the world had not yet taken him.

Rin’s arms came around him at once, instinctive as breathing.

“There,” Hiori muttered against his shoulder, voice muffled, still edged with lingering ire. “Now I can continue being furious properly.”

“You seemed to be managing fine already.”

“Do not test me, Itoshi.”

The chamber remained dim and warm about them. Firelight crouched low within the hearth, its glow amber against stone, while the first hint of dawn still lay far beyond the horizon. 

And reluctantly Hiori’s heartbeat began to settle, easing back into something like order beneath Rin’s hold.

Rin rested his chin for the briefest moment atop Hiori’s head, the gesture so fleeting it might have been imagined were it not for the warmth left behind. 

“There was another cause for my leaving,” Rin said at last, his voice quiet as distant thunder.

Hiori made a displeased sound against the dark fabric of Rin’s tunic, his face still half-buried against his collarbone. “Mm. This explanation better improve swiftly,” he muttered.

A breath escaped Rin’s nose, dangerously near amusement. It ghosted warm against Hiori’s hair before he stepped back.

Hiori lifted his gaze just in time to see Rin reach into the pocket of his coat.

He withdrew a small lacquered box, black as polished obsidian, Hiori blinked once.

“You truly got a ring,” Hiori said softly, staring at him now as though the sight alone had stolen the wit from his tongue. “You know I was only joking.”

“You still asked.”

Rin opened the box with careful hands, and firelight spilled across silver and deep teal stone.

The ring was exquisite in the restrained manner of old relics, slender bands of silver twisting like flowing water around a gemstone dark as the midnight sea. 

“It belonged to my mother.”

Hiori’s eyes lifted sharply to his.

Rin met his gaze without flinching, though tension lingered beneath the stillness of his expression, subtle as a blade hidden beneath silk.

“Sae kept it after her passing,” he said.

“You utter fool,” Hiori looked at him then as though the very air had been stolen from his lungs. “You vanished into the night for this?”

Rin exhaled another short breath through his nose, faintly irritated in the manner of a man who had armed himself for battle only to discover none was required.

Hiori nearly laughed at the sight of it.

He reached forward slowly, giving Rin every chance to retreat, “May I?” He asked, scarcely above a whisper now.

Rin nodded once.

Hiori took the ring from its velvet cradle with a care so uncharacteristic it might have startled anyone else who knew him. Gone was the easy mockery he wore like armor, and the irreverent grin forever poised at the corner of his mouth. His fingers, usually restless and clever, moved as though handling something sacred.

The silver gleamed beneath the firelight, pale and cold as moonlit steel. The deep teal stone shifted with every flicker of flame, darkening and brightening by turns like the Narrow Sea beneath a storm-torn sky.

Hiori studied it in silence for a long while.

“Your mother possessed wonderful taste,” he murmured at last.

The faintest twitch touched the corner of Rin’s mouth. “I believe you have mistaken the matter at hand.”

Hiori lifted his eyes to him then, one brow arching with practiced insolence despite the softness lingering beneath it.

“And what matter is that, my prince?”

“I am placing it in your hand,” Rin said at last, each word measured carefully, “and not reclaiming it.”

The fire cracked softly in the silence between them.

“You are not merely gifting me a ring,” Hiori said slowly, as though speaking too quickly might shatter the moment entirely.

Rin tilted his head a fraction. “I am.”

Hiori stared at him long enough that the shadows shifted across the chamber walls.

Then a quiet laugh escaped him, breathless and disbelieving, though it carried no true mirth within it.

“That is - ” He stopped himself, pressing his thumb once against the teal stone as though grounding his thoughts. “Gods, Rin. This is a royal heirloom. It belonged to your mother.”

“Yes.”

“And you simply…” Hiori gestured vaguely with the hand holding the ring, still looking faintly stunned. “What? Crept into Sae’s chambers beneath the cover of night and stole it from him?”

Rin’s expression remained maddeningly calm. “I did not steal it,” he said mildly. “I asked.”

Hiori closed his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, the world beyond the chamber ceased to exist. He curled his fingers around it tightly, as though afraid it might vanish should his grip loosen.

It felt unreal enough to be mistaken for some fever-born vision conjured from exhaustion, too many sleepless nights, and the lingering sting of dragon smoke in his lungs.

A quiet breath escaped him.

“You are aware this borders madness,” Hiori murmured, “Tell me that much at least.”

Across from him, Rin did not so much as shift. “Yes,” he said shamelessly.

Something inside Hiori gave way without sound like a dam splitting beneath deep water. His expression softened all at once and He took a step nearer until scarcely a sliver of space remained between them, until the firelight caught in Rin’s dark hair and painted molten gold along the sharp line of his cheekbone.

“Rin,” Hiori said, voice lowered into something far more dangerous than teasing, “you cannot continue placing things like this into my hands as though you are discussing troop movements.”

A faint crease appeared between Rin’s brows as he frowned, almost childishly.

“Why not?”

The question was so earnest it bordered on absurdity.

Hiori stared at him for half a heartbeat before the smallest, most helpless smile curved against his will at the corner of his mouth.

“Gods preserve me,” he muttered softly.

He looked back down at the ring, turning it carefully between his fingers. Firelight slid across the teal stone like moonlight over restless tides.

“If I accept this,” he said slowly, “there exists no realm in which this remains simple.”

Rin’s reply came with full certainty, “There never existed such a realm to begin with.”

At last, Hiori laughed softly beneath his breath, though there was no mockery left within it now.

“You are going to be the ruin of me,” he said.

Hiori’s thumb brushed once more over the silver band before, with immense care, he returned the ring to its velvet cradle.

The box clicked shut softly between them.

Then Hiori took Rin’s hand and folded his fingers back over it, pressing the lacquered box firmly into his palm.

“But,” he added, voice gentler now, almost unbearably so, “I shall accept it nonetheless.”

His thumb swept slowly across Rin’s knuckles as he spoke, tender as a vow.

Beyond the tower walls, somewhere high above the sleeping fortress, a dragon cried out into the paling dark, and beyond the narrow windows, dawn began at last to break across the world.

Hiori drew in a long breath through his nose, straightening slowly as though attempting to gather the scattered remains of his composure from the floor between them.

He did not appear especially successful.

The warmth lingering in his expression betrayed him entirely, soft and dazed beneath the flickering firelight. 

“Now then,” Hiori said at last, smoothing one hand absently down the front of his coat, “am I permitted a moment of dramatics, or do you intend to continue devastating me until I perish where I stand?”

Rin blinked once. “You may indulge in dramatics.”

Relief crossed Hiori’s face at once. “Excellent.”

Without another word, he pressed the back of one hand dramatically against his forehead like some overpaid actor in a court tragedy. With the other, he seized the front of Rin’s tunic and leaned backward in an exaggerated swoon.

“I have been undone,” Hiori declared solemnly to the ceiling above them. “Ruined utterly by a prince. A sorrowful tale fit for songs and very expensive paintings.”

Rin watched him in silence.

Hiori continued despite this.

“I shall require compensation for the injury done to my spirit,” he went on gravely. “Several years of recovery, at minimum. Perhaps an estate. Or a prolonged holiday somewhere with less impending death.”

“We are amidst a war,” Rin replied flatly.

“Monstrously inconvenient timing, truly” Hiori agreed at once, not lowering his hand from his brow. “Yet despite this unfortunate circumstance,” His gaze slid back toward Rin, warm amusement curling at the edges now. “I believe I shall keep you nonetheless.”

“As though you possessed the ability to rid yourself of me,” he said quietly.

Hiori laughed softly under his breath, helpless against it, before stepping forward once more. His fingers loosened where they still curled in Rin’s shirt, smoothing briefly against the fabric before he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Rin’s mouth.

When Hiori pulled away, his gaze flickered toward the lacquered box still clasped securely within Rin’s hand.

A faint smile lingered between them then, quiet and intimate, belonging to no one else in all the realm.

Beyond the tower windows, dawn had finally begun to spill across the world.

Golden light crept over black stone battlements and distant seas still veiled in mist. Far below, dragons wheeled through the morning sky in vast shadowed silhouettes, their cries echoing over the cliffs as the realm stirred awake beneath them.

What a perilous thing it was, to be loved so wholly by a man who would sooner set the world ablaze than let you fall from his grasp.