Two whole weeks had passed since Vaelorian received the news of his sudden engagement to Lady Lysandra of House Morwyn. The day that started as mundane morphed into turmoil with a single message delivered by Sir Eryndor, urging him to write to his mother. He could still remember the early morning glow of his private study in the camp; the smell of parchment mixed with fresh ink hung in the air. Pen in hand, he had wrestled with the weight of those letters, each one feeling like a binding contract to circumstances he never wished for.
One of the letters Vaelorian wrote was for his mother. It spoke of his deep longing for her and the simple joys of life away from the imperial palace—the taste of camp meals, the sun on his face, his duties and other activities. But he held on to one thing, a secret that burned to be shared: his desperate desire to tell her about Riven, the boy who now lit up his days in camp.
"What would she think of Riven?" he had wondered aloud, glancing at the flickering candlelight on his desk. "How would she react to this…to us?"
How could he express his feelings about the younger boy whom he cherished so much in writing? The burden of finding out what his mother will think would have to wait until he figured things out, perhaps after the chaos of missing citizens had calmed down.
The second letter, stern but in respectful tone, was directed to his father—the emperor. He'd made it crystal clear he wouldn't be marrying anyone until he was ready, and even then, it would be with a partner of his own choosing. Both his parents are young, there's no rush in trying to hand over the crown to him.
The final letter Vaelorian wrote was addressed to Duke Morwyn. It was more of a warning wrapped in polite words. The message was straightforward; he had no intention of honoring the engagement proposed without his consent and wished to cancel the arrangement without causing a scandal. "Let's avoid unnecessary political drama, shall we?" he had thought with a sigh while sealing the envelope, a twinge of frustration coursing through him.
And yet, two days later Vaelorian had muttered, "You've got to be kidding me! He doesn't know how to take no for an answer does he?" under his breath after getting a letter of reply from Duke Morwyn insisting that Vaelorian should leave the topic of calling off his engagement with his daughter till Vaelorian's return to the imperial Palace.
Vaelorian still recalls the mix of anger and disbelief that had coursed through him as he formed the words on paper telling the Duke he had no intention of doing so.
Was there really no limit to the length the Duke will go to acquire more power?
Vaelorian had made a promise to Riven—It's a promise he intends to keep no matter what.
He knew that being a prince and the sole heir to the throne meant making certain sacrifices, especially for his family and the empire. However, Vaelorian couldn't shake the feeling that someday these sacrifices might come at the expense of his and the younger boy's happiness, and that thought scared him more than anything in the world.
Reflecting on those events from two weeks ago felt surreal, especially with another entire week gone since Riven had asked for his help in training Barron. To his surprise, Vaelorian found himself genuinely enjoying his duties at camp as a combat instructor. Every training session with Riven and Barron—guided by Sir Eryndor—has been filled with good moments.
"You've got to be faster than that, Eryndor!" Vaelorian had called out, unable to hide his proud smile as Riven disappeared right in front of the Knight before he could strike. The younger boy smirked, his eyes meeting Vaelorian's with a cheeky grin during one of their sparring sessions. Barron had been steadily improving too, much to their delight. However, it was when those two faced off against Sir Eryndor that Vaelorian felt the true joy of the moment, pausing to admire the budding camaraderie between them. Vaelorian had previously harbored reservations about the boys' closeness, purely out of jealousy, but now he was certain they would make an incredible team.
After each session, he'd whisk Riven away, the younger boy's laughter echoing down the corridors as they hurried to the privacy of their shared room. Those stolen moments felt like heaven, allowing Vaelorian to momentarily forget the weight of his responsibilities.
Yet, amidst the levity, dark shadows lurked within the camp. Vaelorian's current mission—interrogating the captured kidnappers—had been both fruitful and challenging. It was a difficult job, extracting truths from individuals shrouded in fear and secrecy.
Now, Vaelorian has no other option but to take a quick trip to Luminary Prime. He needs an audience with his father to discuss the next step towards rescuing the missing citizens, and to confront the grim reality that some of them might already be dead.
The looming issue now was Riven's insistence on joining Vaelorian and Sir Eryndor on their journey back to the imperial palace—a desire Riven had been hinting at from the moment he learned about their plans, and even though Vaelorian doesn't have the heart to refuse his lover, he's been coming up with all such of excuses.
"Come, no! Wouldn't it be nice to have me around?" Riven whined, he's been doing that for hours now.
Vaelorian sighed, taking a deep breath. It was obvious he couldn't avoid the topic forever. He needed to explain his concerns so Riven could understand.
"Riven, this isn't a field trip, I need to focus on this. It's dangerous, and I won't be around much, you'll be bored—"
Riven cut him off with a playful pout. "Bored at the imperial palace? I find that hard to believe, besides I can just bring Barron along. You won't even know I'm there, I promise. Please let me come." Riven pleaded with puppy dog eyes.
Vaelorian had arched an eyebrow, attempting to maintain his composure. "We're not done talking about you coming along and now want to bring another person?"
"I won't be bored if Barron comes with me!" Riven argued, his voice a mix of indignation and mischief.
"And how exactly would you fit another person into our already cramped party? I'm trying not to attract attention, remember?" He couldn't help but be drawn into Riven's bright eyes, filled with optimism.
"I'll just have Barron take one of his shape-shifting forms whenever we're around other people. Maybe as a cat or a bird? No one would even notice he's there!"
Vaelorian was fighting to suppress a smile, aware of the sheer absurdity of the plan. He was tempted to laugh but willed himself to stick to his resolve.
"You can't be serious!" he exclaimed, but there was warmth in his tone, a hint of amusement in his disbelief.
"I'm serious!" Riven shot back, leaning forward with conviction. "Barron and I can keep ourselves busy. With his ability to shape-shift, we might even be a help to your mission. Think of how much fun we could have." Riven winked mischievously, and Vaelorian tried his best not to laugh.
"I'm not sure if fun is what I need on this trip," he said, folding his arms, trying to appear stern.
"But, I really want to help." Riven pouted.
Vaelorian looked into Riven's hopeful face and sighed.
"You really want to come, don't you?"
Riven nodded eagerly. "More than anything."
"Alright," Vaelorian finally said, his voice gentle but firm. "Both of you can come along. But you have to promise me: you'll stay out of trouble and focus on the task at hand. No sneaking off. Barron has to stay in his shape-shifting form around others...no surprises, I mean it."
Riven grinned, victory evident in his expression as he jumped into Vaelorian's arms. "Deal!" Riven said. "Thank you, babe! You won't regret it!"
Hauling in a breath, Vaelorian realized he had little choice now. He'd have to adapt his plan to accommodate Riven and his shape-shifting friend, however ridiculous that might seem.
"The things I do for you, Riven…" he muttered, shaking his head as he hugged the younger boy tighter but unable to suppress the smile creeping onto his lips.