Vaelorian stood silently by the side, his gaze fixed on the intense scene unfolding before him. His arms were crossed, hands clasped lightly over his chest, but his eyes were sharp and observant, taking in every movement, every shift in stance. He was like a silent sentinel, silently noting Riven's fluid, almost dance-like moves. Despite Barron's larger, broader frame—taller, heavier—Vaelorian's eyes tracked how the younger boy effortlessly maneuvered around him, his speed and agility making Barron seem sluggish in comparison. Vaelorian's heart swelled with pride. That look of focused determination, the glint of mischief in Riven's eyes—it was the embodiment of everything he had been working toward.
And just as if sensing his thoughts, Riven's eyes briefly flicked toward him, a mischievous glint dancing within them. When their gazes met, Riven winked slyly, a playful glint in his eyes. Vaelorian's heart warmed as his lips twitched into a smile; that mischievous side of him is one of the things he's learned to love. Ah, this boy— he's so full of life, so daring.
"He's really come so far," Vaelorian mused silently, memories flashing. Riven is nothing like the helpless, fragile looking boy with sarcasm as his armor that Vaelorian decided to train at the beginning of camp. He has transformed into someone completely different—he's fighting with such skill and confidence.
It's a transformation that fills Vaelorian with pride, knowing he's been part of it every step of the way.
Eryndor, standing beside him, watched the scene with a quiet smile, his voice breaking the moment's silence.
"The young Lord Riven's movements are almost impossible to keep up with. I almost feel bad for Barron," he said, his tone tinged with admiration and a hint of amusement.
Vaelorian nodded thoughtfully, eyes still on the sparring pair.
"You're right," he replied. "But that speed, that agility—it's exactly what Barron needs to become a better fighter. I did the same thing when I started training Riven." His voice carried a quiet confidence, tinged with the nostalgia of those early days.
Eryndor's brow furrowed slightly, voice cautious. "I know your training routine is effective, but.…brutal, even. Honestly, I didn't expect you to use it with Riven from the start."
Vaelorian turned his head slightly, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "What made you think I wouldn't?" he asked smoothly.
Eryndor hesitated for a moment, then carefully chose his words. "Well… you spent years searching for him. And, frankly, there's nothing about his appearance that screams 'fighter,' no offense."
Riven, in the midst of a swift kick, heard what Sir Eryndor said and he chuckled, pausing to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. "None taken," he called out, grinning. "But looks can be deceiving, Sir Eryndor. Trust me on that." And then he went ahead to execute another flawless move, kicking Barron to the ground once more.
Vaelorian smiled after hearing his lover's sassy reply as he continued to watch him. Despite Barron's shape-shifting gift, Riven's reflexes were lightning-fast, catching him off guard every time.
"People will underestimate him because of how he looks," Vaelorian began calmly. "And that will be their undoing. I've made sure of that—over the months, I've helped him build his strength, his resilience. His appearance—his fragility—is his greatest asset. It keeps others from seeing the strength he truly possesses.".
Eryndor nodded slowly, understanding the depth behind Vaelorian's words. After all it was Vaelorian that saw the spark in Riven—something fierce, something fearless—and he'd helped nurture it. The young prince is going to make a great leader one day.
Vaelorian wanted no one to look down on Riven because of how fragile he seemed—how delicate he appeared. Riven hated being compared to a girl, resenting the perception of fragility. That's why Vaelorian is training him to become even more stronger, faster, more fearless. With Riven's natural courage, he'll become untouchable someday.
As Sir continued watching the young boy's quick reflexes and daring moves, he realized something else. His training was more than just physical strength—it was about forging a spirit that couldn't be broken.
They continued to watch as the two boys pushed themselves, Vaelorian and Sir Eryndor giving instructions from the sidelines. When Vaelorian felt Riven had demonstrated enough to Barron, he raised a hand and let out a loud whistle.
"Alright, that's enough!" he called out, voice firm but tinged with amusement. Instantly, Riven and Barron paused their tug-of-war, both catching their breath. Riven chuckled as he patted Barron on the back, who groaned exaggeratedly and dropped to the ground.
"Is this what you survived with His Highness?" Barron asked, feigning horror, making Riven laugh out loud.
"Just wait till you actually train with Vaelorian!" Riven teased, smirking as he clapped Barron on the shoulder. "You'll see what real training looks like."
He smirked as Barron's eyes widened in real horror, but before he could reply, Vaelorian stepped forward, nodding toward the healer's wing.
"Barron, go get checked. We need to make sure you're not hurt anywhere. We'll resume training tomorrow. Come on, Riven." His voice carried authority, but there was a warmth beneath it.
Vaelorian turned to Sir Eryndor, the two exchanging a silent glance, then he began walking out of the old training room. Riven, waving goodbye to Barron, hurried to follow, eager to keep up with Vaelorian.
The moment they were out of Barron and Eryndor's sight, Vaelorian took Riven's hand, his grip firm yet gentle. Without a word, he concentrated and, in a flash, teleported them straight to their room. They landed with a thud onto the bed, the world spinning around them.
"Whoa! Do you think you could give me a little warning next time, Your Highness?" Riven gasped between fits of laughter, rubbing his backside.
Vaelorian's lips curled into a devilish smirk. Before Riven could react, he pounced onto him, pinning him down. Riven's eyes widened in surprise—then, suddenly, Vaelorian's lips found his in a hungry, possessive kiss. Riven responded instinctively, returning the kiss with equal hunger, their breaths mingling.
Someone's in a mood, Riven thought, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as they pulled apart for air. "Does watching me kick Barron's ass turn you on, Your Highness?" he teased, voice mischievous.
Vaelorian chuckled, an amused expression on his face. "You make it sound like I'm the only one in the mood," he said smugly, giving Riven a slow, deliberate look. Riven's gaze drifted downward, and his face instantly heated up as he caught sight of his very obvious bulge pressing against Vaelorian's pants. "Don't worry," Vaelorian whispered against Riven's lips, his voice low and teasing. "I'll take care of that for you."
Riven, suddenly flustered, sprang up from the bed. "I need a shower. I'm all sweaty from training," he said quickly, heading towards the bathroom at a brisk pace.
Vaelorian watched him go, laughing out loudly. "Since when are you a neat freak?" he called after him, amusement evident in his tone.
And as the door closed behind Riven, Vaelorian leaned back into the bed, a satisfied smile on his face. The boy was growing stronger, fiercer— nothing at all like someone who would try taking his own life again, Vaelorian knew he would give him the world if that's what he desires.