FLASHBACK 1.2
And so, on the night of the Harvest Festival banquet, the palace was alive with laughter and music where the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine carried through the halls, mingling with the hum of noble voices and the distant echo of strings and drums.
Ravik, His Majesty and Rhydan, the crown prince, basked in the celebration that every toast met with cheers.
Rowan, however, was nowhere near the banquet hall. He was confined once more to his chamber and his only glimpse of the festivities was coming from the narrow window that overlooked the gardens.
Beyond the glass, bursts of fireworks bloomed across the night sky in radiant colors, yet to him, they seemed like fleeting reminders of everything he was forbidden to touch.
For a long while, he endured in silence but as the fireworks grew brighter, his heart also grew heavier. He then pressed his forehead against the cold pane where the noise of joy in the distance was stinging more than comforting.
Finally, unable to bear it, Rowan opened the door to his chamber.
"I want to see them," he told the knight stationed outside and his voice was firm despite the tremor beneath. "I want to see the fireworks up close."
The knight frowned. "His Majesty forbade it, Your Highness."
"I won't stay outside for too long." Rowan's hand curled into a fist.
For once, he refused to be caged.
Perhaps it was pity, or perhaps the knight simply thought a short walk would do no harm, but he relented and followed Rowan as they made their way down the east corridor. The torches burned low there, shadows crawling across the walls as it was the darkest part of the hallway, a place that was rarely patrolled during festivities.
With a sudden, desperate move, Rowan struck the knight at the back of the neck and shoved him against the wall. The guard then stumbled and lost his consciousness, unprepared for resistance and Rowan didn't wait to see if he recovered.
He bolted and his footsteps was quick and light while his heart was pounding as he raced through the dim corridor.
His path carried him northward, closer to the banquet hall where the music was louder and the warmth of torches are brighter. He thought he might slip inside even just for a moment to taste what had always been denied for him but before he could reach the doors, someone stepped into his path.
Tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked in the deep blue of his house, stood Grand Duke Magnus Duskbane. His blue eyes caught the torchlight, steady and unreadable and fixed entirely on Rowan as though he had been expecting him.
"My prince?" Magnus said quietly, his voice carrying more weight than the revelry beyond the doors. "I was just about to come find you."
Before Magnus could speak again, Rowan grabbed his hand. Panic drove him forward and that every second they lingered near the banquet hall would risk discovery. "Not here," Rowan whispered with urgency in his voice.
Without waiting, he dragged Magnus down the shadowed corridor, away from the light and music spilling from the feast.
"M–My prince," Magnus stammered while trying to keep his pace. "Why are you outside? It's freezing and you… you didn't even bring a cloak." His eyes flicked over the prince's figure, barely dressed in his nightclothes while slippers scuffing against the stone floor.
His heart clenched at the sight and his cheeks are warming despite the cold air.
For the first time in a while, he was glad that it's dark or the prince he had adored so much would see his expression.
Rowan didn't slow and his grip on Magnus's hand was still tight and almost trembling. When they finally turned into a deserted passage, he spun around while his chest was heaving.
"Your Grace," he said, his voice breaking with the weight of desperation. "Please… help me. Help me escape the palace."
Magnus stopped short while the force of the words rooting him in place. Stronger by nature and stronger still by his rank as an alpha, it took little effort for him to halt Rowan's frantic pull.
Then his eyes searched the prince's face where confusion and disbelief were written across his features. "…What?"
"Help me escape," Rowan repeated and firmer this time, though his voice trembled at the edges. His ocean blue eyes also burned with longing while his words spilling out faster than his breath.
"I don't care where as long as outside the palace walls. I want to see more of the world and I want to wield a sword so I cannot stay here any longer."
The silence between them stretched, heavy and charged but Rowan's grip didn't loosen as though he feared Magnus might vanish if he let go. And Magnus, standing there in the dim corridor, staring at the prince he had adored for years felt the pull of fate in Rowan's plea.
Before he could answer Rowan's desperate plea, Magnus silently shrugged off his cloak and draped it over the prince's shoulders. The fabric then swallowed Rowan's smaller frame and Magnus's hands lingered as he adjusted it while his fingers brushing lightly across Rowan's trembling shoulders.
The simple contact ached within him, for in that moment he realized just how fragile and how helpless, the man he loved truly was, an omega bound by chains he had never chosen. And the knowledge that he could do nothing to shield him, not yet, made Magnus's heart twist painfully in his chest.
"Come," Magnus said at last while his voice low, steadying. "Let's go to the pavilion first. This conversation will take longer than I thought…"
Rowan didn't argue. He only nodded, clutching Magnus's hand tighter than before as if drawing strength from the contact. His grip was almost desperate that his fingers was cold but unyielding.
Magnus also held it back firmly while guiding him through the shadowed halls until they reached the pavilion, a quiet and open structure where the night air was cool and the festival lights glittered distantly in the sky.
Magnus then pulled out a chair and gestured for Rowan to sit. Once the prince settled, still wrapped in his cloak, Magnus took the seat across him. His gaze never left Rowan's face, eyes sharp and searching.
Between them, the pale moonlight spilled like silver, painting Rowan's features in soft sorrow and for a long moment, Magnus simply looked at him, looked at the man he had cherished in silence for years, now sitting across from him with such desperate resolve.
Finally, Magnus spoke while his voice was edged with both hesitation and quiet determination. "Have you truly made up your mind, my prince?" His words carried weight and it's heavier than the night itself.
"Forgive me… for not being able to help you sooner. I only just inherited my title and though I bear the name of Duskbane, my power is not yet complete, not while my mother still holds influence over the estate. But…" His hands curled into fists on the table, then slowly eased as he reached toward Rowan again. "If I help you, will you swear to me and will you promise me—that you'll remain safe once you leave the palace, my prince?"
Even with hesitation, Rowan gave him a firm nod while his eyes are locked onto Magnus's with quiet resolve.
"I know it won't be easy," he admitted softly while his voice was trembling but unwavering. "But I swear to you, I can at least protect myself. Every day here suffocates me more than you know so I beg you, please… Your Grace, I beg you to help me."