chapter 13

Episode 13

The sun hung low in the sky as King Mathias stepped into the palace courtyard, where his retinue had already gathered. The banners of his kingdom fluttered against the crisp morning breeze, the deep blue and silver a stark contrast to Aethelgar's crimson and gold. His horse, a powerful black stallion, stood at the ready, its breath misting in the cold air.

Mathias took a deep breath. He had played his part well, enduring months in a foreign court where every word and movement was carefully measured. But now, it was time to return to his own land.

His knights, clad in the armor of their homeland, mounted their horses as the servants fastened the last of their supplies. Lord Aiden, ever at his side, murmured something to the captain of the guard before turning to Mathias.

"The men are ready, Your Majesty."

Mathias nodded, casting one last glance at the towering walls of Aethelgar's palace. He could feel the weight of unseen eyes watching him from the windows above-Tommen, perhaps, or his spies, ensuring that he truly left.

The great iron gates groaned as they were pulled open, revealing the vast stretch of road leading beyond the capital. He swung onto his horse, gripping the reins with steady hands.

A final nod to his men, and then, with a swift pull of the reins, Mathias led them forward. The sound of hooves echoed through the streets as they rode out, the people of Aethelgar pausing in their daily lives to watch the departure of the foreign king. Some whispered, others merely observed in silence.

As the gates closed behind them and Aethelgar faded into the distance, Mathias's shoulders eased, just slightly. The game of thrones had not ended-it never did-but at least, for now, he was returning home.

-----

The council chamber of Valla was filled with the low murmur of discussion, the scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air. At the head of the long oak table sat Prince Alistair, his expression unreadable as he listened to his advisors. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the room.

"The grain stores in the eastern provinces are running low," Lord Halvard began, pushing a document forward. "A poor harvest, and now reports of hoarding among merchants. If we don't intervene, we could face shortages before winter."

Prince Alistair glanced at the document but did not reach for it. "Send an inspector. If the merchants are hoarding, they will answer for it. In the meantime, divert supplies from the southern reserves."

Lord Halvard nodded, but another advisor, Lord Edric, spoke next. "The border villages near the Hildred Mountains have sent complaints about increased tolls. Lord Renfred has been raising fees beyond what was agreed upon."

Alistair's fingers tapped lightly against the table. "I warned Lord Renfred once already." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Send him a letter. If he does not adjust the tolls accordingly, we will strip him of his authority over those routes and redistribute the rights."

The room fell silent for a moment. Even among his own council, Alistair was a man of few words, but each carried weight.

A third advisor, Lady Aelith, leaned forward. "And the matter of the proposed marriage alliance with the House of Vryndel?"

Alistair's gaze flickered toward her. "Postpone discussions for now."

"Prince Alistair, with respect," she pressed, "you have postponed this matter twice. House Vryndel is growing impatient."

"Then let them wait." His voice did not rise, but the authority in it was unmistakable. "We do not rush decisions that will shape the future of this kingdom."

The council exchanged glances but did not push further. They knew better.

When all matters were settled, the meeting adjourned, and Alistair rose from his seat. Alissa, who had been silently observing, fell into step beside him as they exited the chamber.

Outside, the courtyard was alive with the sounds of knights sparring, steel clashing against steel. The palace gates stood tall in the distance, a reminder of the world beyond.

Among the knights, Elias stood at attention. His gaze immediately found Alistair, following his every movement.

Alistair walked past without sparing him a glance.

Elias' grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white. He knew better than to expect acknowledgment, yet he couldn't help but watch-waiting, hoping for something.

But Alistair did not waver, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression as composed as ever.

Elias remained behind, his heart pounding against his ribs, his eyes lingering on the man who refused to see him.

The corridors of the palace were nearly silent, save for the soft echo of Elias's boots against the marble floors. It was late-too late for him to be wandering these halls-but his heart had led him here, to the door of the one person he could never truly stay away from.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of a lantern. Alistair, sitting near his desk, didn't look up at first.

"Did you forget something, Lord Eric?" he asked absentmindedly, assuming it was his attendant.

Elias froze in place. His breath caught in his throat as Alistair finally turned toward him, his sharp features softening in surprise. They stared at each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

Finally, Elias broke the silence. His voice wavered. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Alistair exhaled, leaning back against the desk. "What for?"

"For putting you in a difficult position. For being selfish." Elias's hands clenched at his sides. "I-I couldn't hold it in any longer." His composure shattered as the emotions he had buried for so long surged to the surface. His shoulders shook, and he let out a quiet sob.

Alistair hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, closing the space between them. He wrapped his arms around Elias, his touch firm yet comforting. "Elias," he murmured, "stop crying."

"I promise-I'll never do it again," Elias choked out between gasps. "Please don't leave me."

Alistair sighed, brushing his fingers through Elias's dark hair. "You look ugly when you cry," he muttered teasingly.

Despite himself, Elias let out a soft laugh, his tears still wet against Alistair's shirt. Their eyes met again, but this time, something shifted between them-an understanding, a need neither of them had the courage to voice aloud.

Elias reached up, his fingertips ghosting over Alistair's jaw before cupping his face. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Alistair didn't hesitate to return it. His hands gripped Elias's waist, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, turning hungry yet undeniably tender. The heat between them ignited, unspoken words and long-suppressed desires spilling out into the way they touched, the way they held onto each other as if afraid to let go.

Elias's breath hitched as Alistair's lips moved down his jaw, tracing a heated path along his throat. He tilted his head back, surrendering to the moment, to the warmth of Alistair's hands sliding over his body.

"Alistair-" he breathed, but whatever he was going to say was lost between them as Alistair claimed his lips again, silencing him in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

Alistair pulled back just enough to search Elias's gaze, his breath heavy. There was a question in his eyes, but Elias already knew the answer. He reached for Alistair's hand and squeezed, guiding it to his own chest where his heartbeat pounded.

That was all the permission Alistair needed.

In a swift, fluid motion, Alistair lifted Elias into his arms and carried him toward the bed. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls as they sank into the mattress together, their bodies molding into one another.

Elias gasped as Alistair's hands roamed over him, tracing familiar yet distant paths, igniting sensations that had long been buried beneath duty and restraint. Alistair's lips followed, leaving a burning trail over his skin, claiming him, worshipping him.

Nothing else mattered in that moment-no kingdom, no titles, no expectations.

Just them.

--

Outside the chamber, the palace corridors remained still, but a lone maid had been passing by when a sound caught her attention. She froze. A soft moan drifted through the heavy wooden door of Prince Alistair's chambers.

Her eyes widened as she quickly stepped back, her heart racing. Had she just heard-?

She shook her head, her mind struggling to comprehend. The prince was never known to entertain women in his chambers, but there was no mistaking the intimate sounds she had just overheard. With a hand pressed over her mouth, she turned and hurried down the hall, disappearing into the servants' quarters.

When she entered her room, several maids were already gathered inside, chatting amongst themselves. One of them, a close friend, noticed her flushed face and immediately frowned.

"What's wrong?" the friend asked, pulling her aside.

The maid hesitated before whispering, "I heard something... in the prince's chambers."

Her friend's eyes widened with intrigue. "What do you mean?"

"I-I heard moaning," she confessed in a hushed voice. "It was someone... with the prince."

Her friend gasped. "Did you see the girl?"

"No... but it's either she lives in this palace or he snuck her in," the maid speculated, still trying to make sense of what she had heard.

Before they could discuss further, another maid approached them. "What are you two whispering about?" she asked curiously.

The two exchanged a glance before dismissing her question with forced nonchalance. "Nothing," the first maid replied quickly, grabbing her friend's arm. "Come, we need to talk elsewhere."

As they left together, the maid's mind raced with possibilities. If the prince had taken a lover, it was bound to cause whispers in the palace. But little did she know, she was entirely wrong about who was in Alistair's bed that night.