Aurein's POV
"F-Father!" I exclaimed, startled, as I turned and found my father standing behind us—his brows drawn together in a look that spelled nothing but suspicion.
Instinctively, I pulled away from General Voltaire's hug—
I mean from his hands... his teaching. Definitely not a hug!
"You're here?" I asked, my voice tight with nerves. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you had important matters to attend to... that you wouldn't be able to come."
"I finished earlier than expected, so I came here to speak with you," Father said, his tone unreadable. Then his gaze sharpened. "Why was General Voltaire hugging you like that?"
"H-hugging me?" I blurted out. "N-No, no, Father! He was teaching me the proper way to use a sword—from scratch! Look around you! Everyone is training, right? I just kept getting things wrong earlier, so I told General Voltaire to... to be persistent with me and teach me properly. That's all."
I swallowed hard. My voice almost cracked, but I forced it not to.
"Oh? I see," Father said slowly. "I thought the two of you were embracing. You were very... close." His tone turned dangerously flat. "I almost thought you were doing something suspicious. Isn't that right, General Voltaire?"
General Voltaire bowed slightly. "I would never do such a thing to our prince, King Lucen," he said firmly. "I hold Prince Aurein in the highest regard, and I treat his body as something sacred. I only wished to teach him because I see his tremendous potential as a warrior."
Sacred? I nearly scoffed.
Then why do you treat me like some weakling half the time?
"I understand," Father said. "And thank you for your efforts in training my son."
I exhaled quietly, relieved.
But then Father frowned again—this time pointing directly at me.
"Wait. Why are you wearing women's training gear, Aurein?"
"A-AH!" I yelped, straightening up instantly. "T-This? Well... none of the regular gear fit me because they were all too big. This was the only set that—um—fit perfectly."
"I do not want to see you wearing women's clothing, Aurein," Father said with clear irritation. "I will have training gear custom-made for you. I do not want anyone else seeing you like... that. It is far too revealing. Too enticing."
I scratched the back of my head, dying inside.
Enticing? Father, please—why would anyone find me enticing right now of all times—
"Anyway," I said quickly, desperate to change the subject, "why exactly did you come here, Father? Was there something important you wanted to tell me?"
"Change your clothes and come to the palace."
"But... our training isn't finished yet," I said, glancing at General Voltaire.
"We can continue tomorrow, Prince Aurein," General Voltaire said, his voice serious again. "You may go and change."
I nodded, though disappointment tugged at my chest. I wanted to stay longer—
Not because of him, of course. Definitely not.
Just... because I was finally learning something.
But Father rarely summoned me unless it was important.
So I headed toward the small hut where my clothes were kept, slipped inside, and began changing as quickly as I could.
* * *
I now stood before my parents in the grand throne hall of the palace.
They sat in regal stillness on their twin thrones—my mother, Queen Crysta, radiating serene elegance, and my father, King Lucen, exuding the quiet authority that could silence an army with a single breath. I remained standing below them, hands clasped behind my back, trying to compose myself.
"How was your training today, Aurein?" my mother asked gently.
"It was exhausting," I replied, "but I accomplished a lot. First, General Voltaire put me through an endurance test—he said I needed to reach the Mountain of Tramo without getting caught by any of his men. I managed to escape them and outsmart them several times. But General Voltaire..."
I exhaled in defeat.
"He's on a different level. I can fool his warriors—but not him."
"General Voltaire has always been exceptionally skilled," my father said. "That is why I assigned him as your mentor. Even before he became a general—back when he served under his father's unit—he was already proving himself. He has been through many wars where victory was achieved because of him. That's why we called him the 'War Prodigy' at a very young age. When his father passed, I appointed him as a new general and allowed him to form his own legion."
"He really is incredible," I agreed. "Because his army isn't made of the typical warriors you'd expect. They're all rejects—people no one else wanted. But General Voltaire took them in and trained them."
My father clicked his tongue softly. "That is the one thing I still cannot understand. I told him he could choose from the top warriors across the kingdom, yet he insisted on recruiting those rascals."
"Well, his father, General Orion, was no different," my mother added thoughtfully. "He gathered men who seemed anything but warriors, and somehow molded them into the strongest army in all of Ardentia—possibly the entire world. Truly... like father, like son. I know General Voltaire's unit is still new. Give him a little time, and he'll forge them into something remarkable."
"I know, I know." My father replied. "But I already gave him the privilege to lead the army of his father but he refused. It will be easier for him though and he doesn't need to train them from scratch. Instead, he wanted to recruit these worthless—"
"They're not worthless, Father!" I snapped before I could stop myself.
My father's brow furrowed sharply at my tone.
"I—I apologize," I said quickly, lowering my gaze. "I didn't mean to raise my voice. I just... got carried away."
He studied me for a moment before sighing.
"Enough about that," he finally said. "I summoned you for something far more important, Aurein."
My heart tightened.
"What is it, Father?"
"I was contacted by the King of Grition, one of our allied kingdoms," Father said. "King Lexor presented me with a proposal—one so advantageous for our territory and bloodline that I could not refuse it."
Oh no.
I already felt where this was heading.
And please—please—let my instincts be wrong.
"King Lexor currently has one and only daughter..."
Yep. Definitely right.
I didn't even have to hear the rest.
"...and he wishes for you to wed his daughter, Princess Serena," my father continued. "I have agreed to this arrangement. It is time for you to have a future queen by your side. When I was your age, I already met your mother. Therefore, it is only proper—and timely—that you and Princess Serena be introduced. And once the two of you are wed, and when you eventually inherit my throne as the king... the Kingdom of Grition will be yours as well."
"That is wonderful news!" my mother said cheerfully.
Wonderful for them.
For me? Absolutely not.
I didn't want to marry a girl I had never met.
I didn't want to be bound to someone simply because politics demanded it.
I wanted to share my life with someone my heart chose—
—and when that thought formed in my mind, one person flashed in.
General Voltaire.
I inhaled sharply.
I don't know, but he was the only person that I was thinking of right now.
"You look dazed, Aurein," my father said. "Are you troubled?"
"Perhaps he's simply surprised and processing everything," my mother said kindly. "Speaking of which... when will we meet Princess Serena? I would love to see the future wife of our only child."
"They will arrive here five days from now," my father said. "Which is why I want preparations made for your attire and posture, Aurein. I want you to present yourself more regally—more like a future king. Continue your training with General Voltaire."
I nodded stiffly.
I didn't trust myself to speak. Anything I'll say now might displease them.
"Do you have any other orders?" I asked, unable to hide the heaviness in my tone.
"That is all, Aurein," Father said.
I bowed, turned, and left the throne room.
* * *
I lay sprawled across a large lounge chair in my room, staring at the ceiling.
My chest felt heavy—so heavy I thought it might crush me. Tears welled in my eyes, but they didn't fall. They just sat there, stinging, refusing to spill.
Everything felt suffocating.
There were things I wanted to do...
Things I wished for myself... but none of them were allowed.
My life was bound to this kingdom and its expectations.
"If only I were just a normal citizen," I whispered to myself. "Would this still have been my fate?"
My voice sounded fragile in the silence.
Then my eyes drifted to something hanging on the back of my chair.
General Voltaire's clothing—the one he had lent me that night.
I reached for it carefully, holding it against my chest. The fabric was rough from battle, soft from wear, and faintly carried the scent of him.
I hugged it closer.
A small smile curved on my lips. My heart loosened—just a little.
But the fear twisting inside me remained.
The fear that soon... all of this, all of him...
might be taken away from me.
(Door Knocking!)
The sound snapped me from my thoughts. I immediately straightened in my seat, hastily hanging General Voltaire's clothing back on the chair as if it had burned my hands.
I wiped my eyes—quick, desperate—and walked to the door before whoever was outside grew suspicious.
When I opened it, my breath stalled.
"General Voltaire? W-What are you doing here?" I asked, startled.
"Have you forgotten my responsibility?" he said. "I am to watch over you at all times."
Then his brows knitted tightly, studying my face.
"Did you... cry?"
"Me? Cry? No! Why would I cry?" I said quickly, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Your eyes are slightly red," he said flatly.
"I just—something got in my eye! Dust! I swear, it was just dust."
He didn't respond. He simply stared at me, unmoving, unconvinced.
"Can you not?" I muttered. "What do you want from me, General?"
"I simply wished to confirm that you were in your chamber," he said. "Now that I know, you may rest. I will remain outside and keep watch."
"Wait—what about your warriors?" I asked.
"They are all resting. Do not concern yourself with them," he said.
"Oh."
I nodded slowly. "If... if you want... you can keep watch inside my room instead."
"You should rest alone. I think you need—"
"I just want company right now," I whispered. "So I don't feel so alone."
He held my gaze for a moment, then looked around the hallway before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
We now stood a few steps apart, facing each other in the quiet of my room.
This time, thank the heavens, he wasn't shirtless. He wore his usual plated armor—dark, angular, and powerful, making him look every bit the warrior he was.
"My little princess looks troubled again," he said with a sly grin.
I immediately clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Shh! Someone might hear you calling me that!" I hissed, eyes wide.
Since he couldn't speak, he lifted his brows repeatedly just to tease me.
I had no choice but to let him go.
"You had to remind me of that..."
"Remind you of what? Calling you princess?" he asked.
"No! I meant the real princess—the one my father wants me to marry. The princess of Grition, Serena." I said, lowering my head.
"Is that not a great honor?" he said, making me frown. "You will finally have your princess—your future queen. And soon enough, the royal children you're expected to produce."
His gaze flicked down to my manhood with a smirk.
"Well… that is, if you're capable of pleasing her enough to give her one of your little—"
I stayed silent.
Not because I agreed.
But because the idea suffocated me.
"Or perhaps you're upset because you want to be the princess—and the future queen instead?" he teased.
"You know what? When Father isn't here, you're unbelievably annoying!" I snapped. "But the moment he's around, you suddenly become the most disciplined general in the kingdom!"
"There are moments when I must behave—like when speaking to the king or queen of Ardentia," he said calmly. "But there are also moments when I can be mischievous and be my true self..."
He paused, then smirked.
"...whenever I'm with you."
My mouth fell open.
My chest tightened—too warm, too fast.
"There is nothing decent that ever comes out of your mouth!" I blurted, turning away from him so he wouldn't see the way my lips curved uncontrollably.
Because the truth was...
I was smiling.
A lot.
"Stop teasing me, General Voltaire!" I said, trying my best to hide the joy bubbling in my chest.
I inhaled deeply before facing him again, controlling the storm of emotions inside me.
"Five days from now, Princess Serena and her father, King Lexor, will arrive so they can be introduced to me," I said anxiously. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, General. I don't want to marry someone I don't even care about."
"Do you care about someone already?" he asked, curious.
"N-No," I said quickly. "I'm only saying that I don't want to marry someone I don't love."
"You won't be marrying her right away," he said. "You will simply get acquainted. Don't you wish to meet her first? Who knows—she might be your type."
He elbowed me teasingly.
"Or could be my type though."
"General!" I yelped, smacking his arm.
"What if you're not even Princess Serena's type?" he continued. "What if she's just as forced as you are? You never know. For all we know, she might not like you back—especially once she realizes you act more like a princess than she does."
My jaw dropped. "General Voltaire, I swear I will throw you out."
"Go ahead," he said, already taking a step toward the door.
I grabbed a fistful of his sleeve before he even made it halfway. "I didn't order you to leave! I was only trying to intimidate you!" I said, breathless. "I just... wanted someone to talk to."
I let out a long, exhausted sigh.
He exhaled as well, but when he spoke, his tone suddenly shifted—deep, steady, unexpectedly serious.
"You're a prince. Your duty is to the kingdom. Did your father not carve that truth into your mind? Your life belongs to Ardentia. And there are things you will never obtain, no matter how much you want them, because the kingdom must always come first," he said.
"I know," I whispered. "That's why I'm so sad. I want to be free. I want to love someone because my heart chooses them... not because tradition commands me to. I want to dance. I want peace. I want so many things, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Without another word, he walked toward my bed—MY bed—and lay down on it like it belonged to him. He crossed one leg over the other, hands tucked behind his head, completely relaxed.
Didn't even hesitate.
My heart thudded painfully.
Why does he look so good lounging there like he owned the place?
I wanted to yell at him—yet all I could do was stare.
"Is this your room? Your property? Did I give you permission to lie on my bed?" I snapped.
"Can you stop me when I'm already lying here?" he said with a grin.
My eyebrow twitched.
"Just because you're stronger doesn't mean you can do whatever you want in front of me! In case you forgot—I. Am. The. Prince!"
He kept staring at the ceiling, completely unbothered, then moved only his eyes toward me.
"But I don't feel like you're acting one," he said calmly. "So I'll do exactly what I want in front of you." He shifted to his side. "And right now... I want to sleep. Then he stretched with a loud, relaxed groan. "Ahh... this bed is heavenly. It's been so long since I last slept on something this soft."
I wanted to drag him out by the ankle. Truly. But I couldn't bring myself to do it.
He should be punished for this disrespect...
And yet—I liked it.
I liked seeing him like this. Relaxed. Normal. Like he wasn't a general, but just... "Voltaire." Annoying. Charming. Infuriatingly attractive.
He let out a long sigh, back still turned to me. I couldn't see his expression.
"Are you asleep already, General Voltaire?" I asked quietly.
He suddenly snored—loudly.
"You fell asleep that fast? You just lay down!" I muttered, shaking my head.
I stood there, staring at him. He was supposed to be guarding me...
So why did it feel like I was the one guarding him?
What if Father walked in and saw him on my bed—?
No. Father wouldn't come at this hour.
He shifted positions again—still asleep—but now he was facing me, eyes closed, breathing soft and steady.
Something warm spread in my chest.
I quietly fetched a blanket from the wardrobe and walked back toward him. Very gently, I laid it over his body.
"Sleep there, General Voltaire," I whispered teasingly. "I'd feel bad waking you up. I'll sleep on the big chair over there, so I don't bother you while you hog my bed."
He didn't respond. He was truly asleep.
He didn't look like the arrogant, mocking general who always embarrassed me.
Sleeping, he looked... peaceful.
Handsome. Too handsome.
His straight, noble nose.
His lips—soft-looking, infuriatingly perfect.
His thick brows that sharpened his already striking face.
The scar on his right cheek that added to his masculine allure.
Before I realized it, my feet moved closer.
And then... my hand.
I reached out and traced the bridge of his nose with the tip of my finger.
Slow. Gentle. Reverent.
My heart hammered violently in my chest as my touch glided down... all the way to the curve of his upper lip.
When I realized what I was doing, I yanked my hand back, terrified he'd wake up.
I exhaled shakily, staring at his peacefully closed eyes.
"If I were a woman," I whispered, "you'd be exactly my type, General Voltaire."
I smiled weakly.
"But fate is cruel. Here I am—a prince. A man. Someone you'd never look at that way."
I stepped away before my emotions could betray me further and went to the large chair across the room, sinking into it.
From there, I watched him sleep.
"I don't know what I'm feeling when it comes to you," I murmured. "But... I'm happy. Even when you call me your princess or your queen—no matter how annoyed I pretend to be—it makes my chest feel lighter."
I smiled softly at the sleeping man.
"Thank you," I whispered.
And with that, I finally closed my eyes.
* * *
Voltaire's POV
I opened my eyes slowly—careful, quiet—and found Aurein curled on the large velvet chair across the room, facing me. His brows were slightly furrowed, the way one does when trying to keep themselves from breaking down.
He thought I was asleep.
I wasn't.
Not truly.
I heard him the moment he whispered my name—soft, fragile, as though he was offering his heart to the dark. A secret he didn't want the world to steal.
He believed I had fallen asleep the instant I laid on his bed.
Truth be told... I nearly did.
But then I felt something—A touch.
The lightest graze of a fingertip along the bridge of my nose.
His touch.
I steadied my breathing, forcing myself not to react.
No one had ever touched me like that.
Gentle. Careful.
As if I might shatter.
For a moment, I wondered if I should open my eyes.
If I should stop him.
If I even wanted to.
I didn't.
And when he whispered—voice shaking, almost trembling with honesty—
"If I were born a woman, you'd be exactly my type..."
—something inside my chest tightened hard enough to hurt.
Ridiculous.
He was a prince.
A man.
And I—I had sworn my loyalty, not my heart.
There should be nothing in me left to feel.
Nothing.
And yet...
When his footsteps moved away, when he chose that cold, uncomfortable chair rather than lie beside me, when he let out a quiet sigh he believed I couldn't hear—
I felt myself shift, turning toward him.
I found my eyes following him in the dim light.
The delicate rise and fall of his breathing.
The way he hugged himself for warmth.
He made me curious—painfully so.
I had assumed he was nothing more than a spoiled, stubborn prince... but I was wrong.
The more time I spent with him, the more I saw the real him—his sincerity, his rawness, his softness, his loneliness beneath all that pride.
And it made me... interested.
Interested in ways that were dangerous.
If I got too close, something terrible might happen.
To him.
To me.
To everything I swore to protect.
So I lied to myself.
I told myself it was duty— that I was only watching him because it was my responsibility.
But I wasn't a fool.
Not anymore.
Something had shifted tonight.
In him.
And perhaps...
In me.
End of Chapter 9