Chloe.
If there was a prize for "Most Unwanted Wake-Up," it would go to Seraphina barreling into my room, already dressed in her sparring gear and waving her phone around like it owed her money.
"UP!" she shouted like a tiny war general. "You're coming with me. Now. No arguments."
I blinked. "Seraphina, it's barely—"
"It's ten," she snapped, yanking the covers off me. "Also, guess who's already at the royal sparring grounds?" She turned her phone to show a grainy, stalker-level zoomed photo of Kieran, sleeves rolled up, black training gear clinging to muscles sculpted by war gods and bad decisions.
"I'm not going anywhere," I groaned, rolling over. "My body still aches from all the engagement nonsense."
"Exactly why you need to go out. Touch grass. Get some serotonin. Watch a beautiful man throw swords around like he's starring in a fantasy film." She was already pulling clothes from my wardrobe. "Plus, you used to train every week. You need to remind people you're not just a princess with good cheekbones and a marriage contract."
I groaned again, but the idea of sparring—a familiar comfort—and maybe shutting down a few rumors about me being "delicate," did hold some appeal.
"Fine," I mumbled.
Seraphina shrieked in victory.
—
The royal sparring grounds were tucked behind the western wing, flanked by marble pillars and white gravel paths that made every footstep echo dramatically. It looked like it belonged to a much more serious story.
Kieran was already there, finishing a match against one of the palace guards. His opponent looked... destroyed. Not just physically, but spiritually. The kind of defeat that made a grown man question his life choices.
He moved with unnerving grace, his sword an extension of his body. Fluid. Fast. Efficient. No wasted effort.
Seraphina, of course, was vibrating beside me.
"He's like... if an ancient bloodline and an anime villain had a baby," she whispered reverently.
"Don't be weird," I muttered.
"I'm not weird. I'm honest. That man is art." She practically clutched her chest like her heart couldn't take it.
He noticed us, of course. His eyes found mine instantly, like they were pulled there by gravity. A slow smirk tugged at his lips.
"You've come to watch?" he asked, voice smooth and deep and dangerous.
"Actually," Seraphina chirped, "my sister used to be one of the best with a blade before the kingdom decided 'ladies don't duel.' I say you challenge her."
I choked. "Excuse me?"
Kieran arched a brow. "Is that true?"
I glared at Sera, then nodded. "I trained for years. My father thought it would help me 'build discipline.'"
"And did it?"
"No," I said flatly. "But I did get very good at stabbing things."
That earned me a chuckle from him. He looked to the steward and gestured for a fresh set of weapons. "Then allow me the honor."
Seraphina squealed and clapped like a child at a festival.
"I didn't agree to this," I muttered as she handed me a wooden sword.
"You're engaged. You don't get to say no anymore," she said, far too happily.
—
We faced each other in the center ring. His posture was lazy, almost bored. I knew better. That was calculated.
"I won't go easy on you," I warned.
"I'd be offended if you did," he replied, eyes gleaming.
The steward gave the signal.
I moved first—sharp, swift, aiming for his side. He parried like it was nothing, barely shifting.
I didn't stop. I pressed again and again, throwing a feint, then pivoting for a low strike. He blocked every move with maddening ease. Like he was playing a game.
"Still holding back?" he murmured.
"Not even a little," I gritted.
I lunged with a scream, trying to surprise him with raw aggression.
It didn't work.
He caught my blade, twisted, and sent it flying. Before I could blink, I was flat on my back, staring at a blue sky that felt like it was mocking me.
"Well," I wheezed.
He stepped over me, offering a hand. "You lasted longer than your palace guards."
"Is that supposed to be comforting?"
"A compliment," he said, smiling like a wicked thing. "You're good."
"But not good enough."
"Not yet."
I took his hand, letting him pull me up. Our fingers brushed. A beat passed—charged, electric, intimate. Then we stepped back like nothing happened.
"Well," Seraphina said, "I think I'm pregnant just from watching that."
I shot her a look. "Please never say that again."
Kieran grinned.
"Will you train me?" I asked suddenly. "If I'm going to marry into a war kingdom, I want to be able to hold my own."
He tilted his head. "Is that your request as a princess, or as my future wife?"
"As Chloe."
That made his expression shift. Softer, almost.
"Then yes. I will train you."
Seraphina made a noise that might've been a squeal or a wheeze. "Oh my GOD this is better than any fanfic I've ever read."
—
We stayed on the training grounds for a while, talking between light sparring. He taught me a better grip. I corrected his posture, just to be annoying. We bantered, argued, laughed. There was something strangely easy about it. Like this—training together under the summer sun—was more real than all the gold and silk and court politics.
Kieran didn't feel like a god of war or a terrifying half-something heir. He felt like... someone I could see beside me. In the mess. In the chaos. In the quiet.
Later, when the sun dipped lower and our limbs ached in that good, earned way, he walked beside me down the gravel path.
"You're full of surprises," he said.
"You're not nearly as scary as they say," I shot back.
"Don't let that get out," he murmured, lips twitching.
And maybe I was imagining it—but he looked at me like he liked me. Not in a duty-bound, marriage-contract way. But in a real, complicated, "you surprise me and I want more of it" kind of way.
I didn't look away.
Neither did he.
Seraphina, of course, ruined the moment.
"You two are so obvious, it's disgusting," she called from behind, phone up again. "I better see this scene in the show adaptation one day!"
I rolled my eyes.
Kieran just laughed.
And for once... I didn't mind the idea of being seen beside him.