The night had fallen quietly over Ravencroft, blanketing the castle in velvet stillness. For the first time in what felt like years, there was no fear trailing behind Lucien's steps. No council meetings. No bloodshed. No more secrets held between tight jaws.
Just stars, the scent of rain-kissed jasmine, and the man he loved.
Lucien sat at the edge of their shared balcony, the cool breeze stirring strands of his dark hair. Below, the garden glowed faintly with lantern light, soft music from the celebration still drifting up through the air.
Eiran joined him silently, a light robe draped over his shoulders, his golden hair damp from a late-night bath. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. He simply reached for Lucien's hand and laced their fingers together.
Lucien smiled, eyes warm. "I never thought I'd live to see a night like this."
"You earned it," Eiran whispered. "You bled for it."
Lucien leaned his head against Eiran's shoulder. "I would've bled a thousand times if it meant arriving here. With you."
Eiran turned his head, kissed Lucien's temple. "Then don't speak of blood. Not tonight. Tonight is for beginnings, not scars."
---
Inside their chamber, the fire crackled low in the hearth, casting golden light across the silk bedding and carved pillars. The air was warm, thick with the quiet hum of anticipation.
Lucien undid the clasp of his robe slowly, eyes never leaving Eiran's. There was no haste. No hunger. Just reverence.
"You're staring," Lucien said with a soft, shy smile.
Eiran stepped closer. "I'm memorizing."
Lucien reached for him, his hands brushing over the fabric of Eiran's robe, letting it slide down his shoulders. Every inch of skin revealed felt like a whispered promise.
When their bodies finally met, it wasn't fire—it was gravity. A pull that had existed between them since the first glance in that war-torn field. Their kisses were slow, lingering. Not born of desperation, but of deep understanding.
Eiran's hand slid to the back of Lucien's neck, drawing him closer. "I used to think love would be a battlefield," he murmured.
Lucien kissed his cheek, then his jaw. "Then you met the villain who refused to fight you."
They laughed softly into the dark.
Hands wandered with patience. Touches explored not just skin, but the spaces between breaths, the silent truths their bodies had long waited to speak. Lucien's lips trailed down Eiran's shoulder, reverent, like prayer. Eiran's fingers mapped the lines of Lucien's back, learning them like scripture.
Their love was not rushed.
It was slow, unfolding like a bloom warmed by sun.
Soft sighs filled the space between heartbeats. Every motion carried intention, every glance reassurance. They had been enemies, allies, soul-bound in prophecy. But here, in the quiet intimacy of shared breath and warmth, they were simply two men choosing one another.
Over and over again.
---
After, they lay tangled in sheets and silence, limbs draped lazily, hearts still thundering with the softness of love.
Lucien's head rested against Eiran's chest, listening to the steady rhythm. "It scares me how much I love you," he whispered.
Eiran stroked his hair gently. "Then we're both terrified."
Lucien laughed softly, looking up. "Will it always feel like this? Like I'm finally breathing?"
Eiran met his eyes, voice steady. "If I have anything to say about it… yes."
And in that moment, there were no titles. No burdens. No wars.
Just them.
And everything they had fought for.
---
Dawn crept gently through the embroidered curtains, painting the chamber in soft gold. The fire in the hearth had long since died, leaving behind only the warmth of shared breaths and the scent of jasmine lingering in the air.
Lucien stirred, eyes fluttering open as he felt a light touch ghost across his cheek.
Eiran was already awake, lying on his side, head propped up on one arm as he watched him.
"I was afraid to sleep," Eiran whispered. "Afraid I'd wake up and it would all be gone."
Lucien reached up, his fingers brushing Eiran's wrist. "I'm still here."
Eiran smiled. "Good. Because last night... it felt like our world began again."
Lucien sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around his waist. "It did. No thrones. No prophecies. Just us."
They sat in silence for a while, the quiet kind that felt full rather than empty. Outside, birds called softly. A breeze slipped in from the balcony, cool against the warmth of their skin.
Eiran reached over and plucked something from the bedside table—a single violet, pressed between pages of a book.
"I found this in your study," he said. "You kept it."
Lucien took it gently. "From the night you almost left. I pressed it to remember the moment I knew I couldn't lose you."
Eiran leaned in, brushing a kiss to Lucien's shoulder. "I never will."
---
Later, they walked through the garden, fingers laced, passing nobles and servants alike. But no one whispered now. There was no scandal, no threat.
Only acknowledgment.
The prince and the duke.
The peace-forged bond between two men once destined to destroy each other.
As they reached the reflecting pool, Lucien stopped.
"I've been thinking," he said softly. "About tomorrow."
Eiran raised a brow. "Planning already?"
"No. Just dreaming." Lucien turned to him, suddenly nervous. "I don't want to wait anymore. Let's not postpone joy like we postponed everything else."
Eiran tilted his head. "Lucien—"
"Marry me," Lucien said, breathless and raw. "Not for the court. Not for peace. For us."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop.
Eiran stepped forward, placed both hands on Lucien's face, and smiled.
"I thought you'd never ask."
They kissed, surrounded by blooming roses and the echo of a thousand silent promises kept.
---
That night, there was no need for urgency. No fear of tomorrow. No heavy legacy hanging between them.
They lay in bed beneath sheer white canopies, whispering dreams and tracing each other's scars like stories written on skin.
Eiran laughed at one of Lucien's old memories, eyes bright. Lucien watched him like someone watching the stars for the first time—not in awe of their distance, but in wonder that something so beautiful could be so near.
"I used to think I'd die alone," Lucien murmured.
"And I used to think I'd never love again," Eiran replied.
They turned toward each other. Their bodies touched, but it was their hearts that truly met.
Lucien's voice was a thread of silk. "But here we are."
Eiran kissed him, slow and deep. "Here we are."
And in that quiet, candlelit room, the villain found his peace.
The hero found his home.
And together—they found forever.
---
The End.