The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Riven awoke tangled in Vaelorian's arms, feeling the steady beat of the older boy's heart beneath his fingertips. For a moment, he just lay there, savoring the softness of the sheets, the quiet intimacy of their shared night. But reality was quick to intrude.
The room was shining brightly, too brightly—and Riven's stomach twisted with the realization that he was late for class. He shot upright with a gasp, adrenaline flooding his veins.
"Shit, Vaelorian! Why didn't you wake me up! I'm so fucking late!" he yelled, voice cracking slightly with urgency. His hands shook as he tried to shake the older boy awake, but Vaelorian remained still, eyes closed.
He was fucking smiling in his sleep?
And then, as if sensing the chaos in Riven's mind, Vaelorian reached for the younger boy and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, silencing his protests. The kiss was warm, soft, almost tender, yet it carried a quiet expression that made Riven freeze.
"You don't have to go to your class," Vaelorian whispered against his lips, voice smooth and reassuring. "I already informed your instructors you wouldn't make it this morning."
Riven's eyes widened in surprise—he couldn't believe his ears. Vaelorian cared enough to do that for him? A rush of happiness flooded through him, making his cheeks flush. And what was even more unbelievable? Vaelorian didn't leave him behind after last night. No, he stayed, making sure Riven was okay. They even showered together—that got a little too intimate. Like, they fooled around in the shower for a bit before reluctantly parting ways for breakfast.
Vaelorian wandered around camp the whole day with a smile, looking like a love-struck puppy. It was impossible to hide the glow from his face. Even his caretakers noticed it too—how could they not when the Prince was smiling and chuckling to himself.
And Riven? His mind was in a constant swirl—distracted, floating high above the clouds yet somehow, the instructors didn't call him out for his absent-mindedness. They didn't seem to care, as if someone had cast a spell over the room, and Riven was under it.
When the time for combat class arrived, Riven found himself unable to look away from Vaelorian. The older boy was no different—focused, confident, guiding others with ease. But every so often, their eyes met, and Riven licked his lips unconsciously, the memory of last night's touch, their bodies pressed together, the heat between them.
"Stop doing that!" Vaelorian's voice suddenly invaded Riven's head, a playful yet commanding whisper as he caught him not-so-discreetly biting his lips during training.
Riven smirked mischievously, and in his most dreamy, teasing tone, he replied,
"Stop doing what?"
He heard Vaelorian groan in response—a sound that sent a ripple through him, making him visibly shiver. Oh, he knew what he was doing—how could he not?
The way Vaelorian looked at him, the way their bodies had touched, the way their lips had met—his mind was stuck relieving every minute of it as the day dragged on, slowly.
It was a dangerous game, but neither of them seemed to care.
Later, at lunch, Riven sat with Mira Lune to work on their history project. His mind was miles away, drifting instead into the fog of his thoughts. His eyes kept glazing over, and Mira Lune caught on quickly.
"Are you okay, Riven? You've been spacing out a lot today." she asked, voice tinged with concern. Her sketchbook was open on the table, but her focus was on him.
"I'm fine. Don't worry," Riven replied, sparing her a small smile—more out of habit than genuine feeling. He knew he needed to focus, but his mind kept slipping back to last night, to Vaelorian's lips, to the warmth of his touch...
He scowled at himself. 'Focus, idiot. There's work to do.'
He pushed through, gradually getting some things done during lunch, and with a burst of inhuman speed, he sprinted back to his room after dinner.
But as he pushed open the door, his smile faded—the disappointment hit him like a brick. Their room was empty. He flopped onto the bed, sighing heavily. What was he thinking? Vaelorian wouldn't just come rushing back just to see him.
"You look relaxed for someone who spent the whole day tormenting me," Vaelorian's voice suddenly echoed in his mind, smooth and teasing.
Riven's stomach did a happy dance. Immediately, he shot upright, eyes darting around. There he was—Vaelorian leaning casually against the doorframe, a smug smile on his face, hands folded on his chest.
Riven gulped, tongue suddenly dry. 'God, what is it about him?' His gaze flicked over the older boy—he'd always been handsome, sure—but now? Now, Vaelorian's presence was magnetic, almost intoxicating. It was like he had some invisible pull, some hypnotic charm that Riven couldn't resist.
"Tormented you? You must be mistaken, I did no such thing." Riven spoke out loud, trying to sound casual, but he was acutely aware of how his body responded to Vaelorian's voice—his pulse quickening, his breath catching.
Vaelorian stepped forward, a cocky grin plastered on his face. "You're just going to deny it? How smooth!" he said, voice like honey. It sent shivers down Riven's spine.
He knew exactly what was happening—how much he was reacting to the older boy's presence. This isn't normal, he told himself. Why am I feeling like this? Why does every glance from him feel like a spark that could ignite the whole room?
"I'm not denying anything," Riven shot back, voice edged with nonchalance, "I don't even know what you're talking about."
Vaelorian chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It's alright if you don't remember. I'll just remind you." His tone was husky, and as he took another step closer, the tension in the room thickened—electric, dangerous.
And then, without warning, Vaelorian closed the distance between them in one smooth motion and Riven barely had time to react before their lips met. The kiss was warm—insistent—part gentle, part desperate. Time slowed as Riven melted into the sensation, feeling a rush of warmth flood through him, his heart pounding in his chest. His initial shock faded into something tender, something almost desperate—like he'd been waiting for this moment forever.
When they finally broke apart, their eyes locked—a silent, unspoken understanding passing between them.
"Still don't know what I'm talking about?" Vaelorian teased, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Riven's lips curved into a smirk before he shoved the older boy onto the bed, pinning him down effortlessly.
"I thought you already got your answer," Riven whispered, leaning in to reconnect their lips again.
Vaelorian's voice was a whisper against Riven's lips. "I heard you were spacing out all day… how did you manage to get any work done?"
"I might not look like it," Riven boasted with a crooked smile, "but most people consider me a genius." He puffed up his chest, proud of his own cleverness, especially after discovering that the real Riven was one sharp kid.
Vaelorian flicked his nose lightly, a smile playing on his lips. "You really hate being told what to do, don't you? Seeing as you were able to get some work done when nobody disturbed you."
Riven's grin grew mischievous. "Life's too short to live for others. I'd rather chop off my hand than be bossed around forever," he said confidently, puffing out his chest. But suddenly, a flicker of something dark crossed Vaelorian's face—a shadow of concern or maybe fear—before Riven hurried to reassure him. "Relax, I'm just kidding!"
But the shadow in Vaelorian's eyes lingered, unspoken and heavy.
"I said I was kidding," Riven pressed, trying to lighten the mood, "You don't think I'd hurt myself, do you?
He groaned loudly as Vaelorian swallowed nervously, the weight of unspoken fears settling in the room. They'd been making out just a moment ago—what had brought them here?
"Something's wrong," Riven said, voice dropping. "What's going on?"
Vaelorian's voice was soft, almost trembling. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."
Riven's frustration bubbled over. "Come on! I thought we moved past that. Just tell me what's on your mind."
Vaelorian looked nervous—more than usual—and that only made Riven more curious.
"I know," Vaelorian whispered, almost inaudibly.
"Speak up, man. I can't hear you," Riven demanded, eyes narrowing.
"I said I know," Vaelorian repeated, voice strained.
Riven scoffed, crossing his arms. "You have to be more specific, dude. What do you know?"
Vaelorian took a shaky breath, eyes closed for a moment. Then, almost inaudibly, he said, "I know you tried to take your own life."
Silence. Absolute silence. You could hear a pin drop. His mind reeled—how could he have known?
His stomach sank. The truth was out.
How? How did he find out? He knew about his second gift too. How much does Vaelorian know about him? The Duke wouldn't exactly broadcast that kind of information to the whole world, would he?
"Say something," Vaelorian urged softly, reaching out.
Riven moved away quickly, his heartbeat pounding. He got off the bed, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and vulnerability.
"How the fuck did you find out?" he demanded, voice cold and sharp.
Vaelorian's face twisted with guilt. "Riven… I didn't mean to—"
"Where is it?" Riven demanded, pacing, voice trembling with anger and hurt.
"Where is what?" Vaelorian whispered.
"Don't fucking play dumb, Your Highness. You know what I mean," Riven snapped, eyes blazing.
Vaelorian hesitated, then held out his hand. Instantly, a neat stack of papers appeared, and Riven snatched them up, flipping through the pages with a dark, unreadable expression.
God, boys are really something aren't there, he thought bitterly. You sleep with someone once, and suddenly they're digging through your secrets like you're some kind of puzzle.
"Riven, please! I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—"
"I need space," Riven cut him off, voice cold. "There's stuff in here that might help me—my memory's fuzzy from that night…don't follow me!" Riven snapped when Vaelorian made a move to reach out to him.
Vaelorian's face crumpled as he watched Riven close the door behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silence. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he sank onto the bed, gripping his hair, helpless. He had really screwed up this time.