In the early morning, while Eiris had not closed her eyes for a single moment throughout the night, she wandered through the golden corridors of the palace, her heart pulled tight with an unshakable worry. She had heard that Murad had dismissed the guards and left alone, as though something was pulling him far from all the protocols and restraints.
Louis approached her, carrying their son Lawrence in his arms, his eyes scanning her exhausted face.
"What's wrong? Why are you this anxious?"
Eiris answered, her voice trembling:
"Murad… went out last night… without guards."
Louis smiled gently, trying to calm her.
"He's probably at one of the nearby estates… trying to rest a little, get some freedom."
Eiris shook her head, agitation shimmering in her eyes.
"Murad is not just the Crown Prince… he's more than that. I raised him beside me. He was always there. I can't bear the thought of losing him."
Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing through the hallway. She lifted her eyes toward the end of the corridor and found him standing there. Seriousness and firmness settled on her features.
"Louis, take Lawrence to his room… And you, Murad, follow me."
Eiris entered the room with Murad behind her, and closed the door. His heart was still heavy with confusion. He had reconciled with John—yes—but the unanswered question remained: how could he balance his new responsibility as Crown Prince with his personal relationships?
She looked at her brother, stern yet full of love, and said with a slightly raised voice:
"What were you thinking when you left alone without guards?"
Murad sighed, his voice soft but full of pain.
"I just wanted some freedom…"
Eiris exhaled, trying to remind him of his responsibility.
"You're the Crown Prince of this kingdom… you need a little wisdom, a little responsibility."
Murad trembled, and tears began to pour heavily down his cheeks.
"Don't pressure me more…"
Then he fell to his knees, crying deeply, beyond duty, beyond protocol, beyond every image of what a Crown Prince should be.
Eiris rushed toward him and pulled him into her arms. It wasn't just a sibling embrace—it was an attempt to transfer some of her strength to him. Her tears fell uncontrollably, mixing fear with grief and the deep attachment that had bound them since childhood.
She whispered in broken breaths:
"I'm… I'm sorry… I was scared… scared of losing you… you're my only brother left…"
Murad leaned into her, soaking in the warmth of her embrace, as if everything around them dissolved— the palace, the protocols, the official images. All that remained was pain, longing, and the bond that had held them together since childhood.
After minutes of silence, Murad whispered, his voice cracking:
"Eiris… there's something I need to tell you… something I've told no one…"
She tightened her hold on his hand, urging him to continue.
He swallowed shakily, his voice trembling:
"…I… I'm with John… for some time now… I don't know how… or when… but… I love him."
Eiris froze for a moment, then pulled him closer, her eyes shimmering with tears.
"John…? You love him?"
Murad nodded, as though speaking relieved some hidden weight he had carried alone.
"Yes… I love him. And everything I did last night… all of it was for him too…"
Tears flowed down Eiris's cheeks as she hugged him tighter, her voice trembling between sobs and apology:
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry I was afraid… I just… I can't lose you too, Murad… you're more than a brother—you're part of me…"
They sat together on the floor, their hearts pulsing with fear, sorrow, and longing. There was no need for more words; everything was clear in their tears, their embrace, and in the quiet morning filling the palace with a temporary sense of safety amidst the storm.
Murad took a shaky breath and wiped his tears with the back of his hand. The tightness in his chest eased, as though confessing to Eiris had opened a small window inside the darkness.
She rested a hand on his shoulder, gently pressing, silently telling him: You don't have to carry this alone anymore.
Her voice softened warmly.
"Murad… why didn't you tell me? Why carry this by yourself?"
He lowered his gaze.
"I was scared… scared you wouldn't understand… that everyone would see my love for John as a threat to the throne, or to my image… or that it would make me… not enough."
Eiris lifted his chin with her fingers, guiding his eyes toward hers.
"You're my brother… long before you're the Crown Prince. Murad who grew up right beside me. How could I not understand?"
His voice trembled.
"But the responsibility… the coronation… everything is changing. I feel trapped between who I am… and who I'm expected to be."
Eiris sighed, as though his words brought back many memories.
"I know that feeling well… When I became a princess, not just your little sister… it felt like my life no longer belonged to me.
But Murad… you deserve to love. To belong to someone who sees you—not just your title."
Silence settled, gentle and warm.
Then she asked softly, squeezing his hand:
"Does John… make you happy?"
A small, sincere smile appeared on Murad's face—faint but real.
"Yes… he makes me feel like… myself. Not the prince. Not the heir. Just… Murad."
Eiris smiled back, her tears still glistening.
"Then I'll be the first to stand with you. The first to protect your right to this love… no matter the cost, no matter what people say."
Murad's breath stumbled, his eyes filling with fresh tears—not of pain this time… but relief.
He collapsed into her embrace again. She stroked his hair gently, like a mother protecting her child, like a sister guarding the last piece of her family.
"Nothing… nothing in this world will make me lose you too," she whispered. "I've lost enough already… I won't let fate take you from me."
They stayed on the floor, fingers intertwined, breathing slowly, rebuilding themselves in the cold morning light.
For the first time since Ryan's death… Murad felt that the path ahead, no matter how rough, could still be walked—because he wasn't alone anymore.
After a long silence, Eiris rose first and offered him her hand. Murad took it, rising with her, as though the two of them were climbing out of a dark pit toward the morning light.
When they opened the door, the hallway was bright with sunlight pouring through the tall windows. For the first time in days, Murad's face looked calm, and Eiris's eyes shimmered with something lighter— as though a heavy burden had finally lifted.
A servant passed by, staring in surprise. Last anyone saw, the princess had been almost frantic with worry and the crown prince lost in his own turmoil. But now, their expressions were different… softer, steadier.
Eiris chuckled softly at the servant's bewildered look and whispered to her brother:
"We should leave before they start inventing stories about us."
Murad smiled—small, but real.
They walked side by side, shoulders brushing the way they did as children, as though a piece of their past had returned to shield them.
But as they neared the dining hall, Eiris noticed something:
Murad looked calmer, yes… but also afraid of the next step.
Of facing the world.
The throne.
And the truth that he loved someone the world might not easily accept.
She suddenly stopped, making Murad glance at her in mild worry.
She placed a hand on his arm and whispered:
"Murad… I've been thinking."
He raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"I believe… we should invite John to the palace."
Murad's eyes widened. "John… here? In the palace?"
She nodded firmly.
"Yes. But… as a friend."
Murad blinked between fear and hope.
"Eiris… do you really mean that?"
She smiled—the kind of smile that held protection, intelligence, and tenderness.
"Yes. If John is important to you… if you love him… then no one should be left in the shadows.
We start small.
Let the palace get to know him… let him understand your responsibilities… without overwhelming pressure.
Let his presence be natural, not a secret choking you."
Warmth stung Murad's chest—relief and gratitude and amazement all at once.
He had never expected such a step… not from her.
"Eiris… thank you…" he whispered, nearly breaking.
She brushed away a forming tear.
"You're my brother. I won't let you face the world alone."
Murad smiled—this time widely.
"Then… I'll talk to John."
"Tell him," she said as she resumed walking, "that he's welcome here. As the Crown Prince's friend."
They entered the dining hall, each carrying something new in their hearts:
Murad carried hope…
and Eiris carried a plan.
Murad and Eiris joined the royal breakfast table. King Roland II sat at the head, with Queen Roxalina beside him, both showing signs of exhaustion after the long days of mourning. But when the siblings entered, the parents noticed something different— a faint calm, a quiet reconciliation, as though a hidden weight had begun to lighten.
Everyone ate in silence until Eiris lifted her gaze with quiet confidence. She gently set down her glass and said:
"Father… Mother… there's something I'd like to discuss. It concerns Murad."
All eyes turned to the Crown Prince, whose chest tightened slightly, but he let her continue.
"I believe it would be good," Eiris said steadily, "for the palace to soon welcome one of Murad's close friends. We all need some warmth… some good connections from outside the rigid environment."
King Roland looked at his daughter for a moment, then at Murad.
"A friend?"
Murad swallowed and nodded slightly.
"Yes… someone important to me."
Queen Roxalina exchanged a glance with her husband before smiling kindly.
"The palace has always welcomed the royal family's friends. If Eiris believes it's good… then we agree."
Roland II nodded as well.
"We trust your judgment. Invite your friend whenever you wish."
Murad exhaled softly—something heavy releasing from within him.
He turned to Eiris, who gifted him a small victorious smile.
The day passed gently within the palace. Eiris spent time with little Lawrence, the king attended several meetings, and the queen reorganized schedules after the mourning period. Murad, meanwhile, spent most of the day thinking about his evening with John… and how he would fix everything between them.
Night fell, and the palace quieted.
Murad knocked on his sister's door. She opened quickly, as though she had been waiting.
He smiled softly.
"Eiris… I'll be going out for a while. I'm heading to my private villa."
She raised an eyebrow playfully.
"To meet… him?"
Murad blushed slightly but didn't deny it.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Go. Be careful. And don't worry… I won't let anyone question where you were."
He kissed her cheek before leaving. He walked quietly through the palace halls to the back gate, refusing an escort as always.
He drove through the softly lit streets until he reached a small flower shop. He stepped out, feeling strangely light, and bought a bouquet of white roses—the color John always liked.
Then he stopped at another shop and bought a box of expensive chocolates—John's favorite.
He returned to his car and headed straight to the villa where John had stayed the previous night.
When he opened the door, he found John standing in the middle of the living room, as if he had been waiting for hours. His chest rose and fell sharply when Murad entered holding roses and chocolates.
Murad approached him slowly, then extended the gifts, his voice quiet, sincere, a little broken:
"I didn't mean anything bad last night…
I was just stressed.
I reached your door… but I couldn't.
I was afraid of saying or doing something wrong."
John froze for a few seconds, trying to read everything Murad had gone through in one night.
Then suddenly he stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Murad's waist, almost knocking the bouquet from his hand.
He whispered near Murad's ear, holding him with all his strength:
"Murad… come here. I missed you."
He lifted a hand to Murad's cheek and kissed him—
A kiss full of apology, longing, and an unspoken truth that they had survived too much… and were still here, together.
Murad closed his eyes, surrendering to the moment—
because this was what he needed all along.
When morning came, sunlight slipped gently through the curtains of the villa, painting soft gold across their faces like a new signature for a new beginning.
Murad woke first. He looked at John sleeping peacefully beside him and smiled—a calm, decided smile he was not used to wearing.
He touched John's shoulder gently, waking him.
"John… wake up. Today… you need to get ready. I'm introducing you to my family… as a friend."
John blinked several times, the words taking time to settle. He raised his head slightly.
"As… a friend? Are you sure? Murad… this is a big step."
Murad sat beside him on the bed, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture that had become almost habitual:
"I'm sure. I can't keep you hidden in the shadows anymore. I don't want to live this part of my life alone."
John said nothing, only smiled. That smile—mixed with fear, surprise, and gratitude—was enough. Then he leaned closer and kissed him… a short kiss, but full of so many meanings.
After getting dressed, they left the villa, heading toward the Crimson Palace. The car moved quietly, and the city was slowly waking up, while John felt his heart racing faster than ever.
Upon arrival, everything was more formal: the iron gate opened slowly, the guards bowed, and the square gleamed in the morning light.
John stepped alongside Murad, trying to appear confident, but everything in this place was clearly not designed to comfort strangers.
Before entering the dining hall, Iris stopped them with a light step, her gaze a mixture of composure and curiosity.
She said with a diplomatic smile:
"Murad… just a minute. I want to speak with your friend… alone."
Murad hesitated for a few seconds, then turned to John and said, "I'll be inside… take your time."
He left them, while John remained standing in front of Princess Iris… those calm eyes that revealed nothing of what she was thinking.
She stepped closer, standing before him as if peering into his soul, then said in a calm yet sharp voice:
"Do you love Murad?"
John hadn't expected such a direct question.
He swallowed and answered clearly:
"Yes… I love him."
Iris nodded slightly—not in approval, but as an acknowledgment that she had expected it.
Then she asked:
"To what extent are you willing to compromise for this love? Because Murad's life… is not an ordinary life, and it never will be. Are you ready to pay the price?"
John remained silent for a few seconds, trying to choose words that didn't sound weak or nervous.
Finally, he said:
"I will compromise as much as I must… without losing myself. And I… will never hurt Murad. If that's your real question."
She studied him more deeply… as if trying to ensure he was not lying, not embellishing, and not hiding from his inner truth.
Then she asked the third… and most dangerous question, in a low but direct voice:
"Do you see yourself worthy of loving the jewel of the Crimson Palace? Do you see yourself… deserving of Murad?"
For the first time, John felt real fear—not of the palace, nor of the royalty… but of being considered unworthy of Murad.
He lifted his head, heart pounding, and said:
"I don't know if I'm worthy enough… but I'm willing to be. And I will try every day to be the person he deserves."
Iris did not smile… nor frown.
She simply looked at him once more, then finally said:
"We shall see."
She then opened the way with her hand, signaling him to enter.
John followed Iris with measured steps, and despite his attempt to stay calm, the air inside the hall felt heavy… as heavy as the history of this palace. High ceilings, walls adorned with ancient paintings, and a long red wooden table in the center, as if witnessing all the secrets that had passed through here.
Murad was standing near the closer end of the table, and the moment John saw him, he stepped forward in a way that calmed John's heart slightly. He said nothing, only exchanged a brief glance… a glance that said, "I'm here."
Queen Roxelina was the first to speak, with a refined tone carrying diplomatic warmth:
"Welcome to the Crimson Palace, John. Please, have a seat."
King Roland II looked at him with a gaze that evaluated the person, not appearances, as he always did with anyone entering his royal life. Yet he said in his deep voice:
"Murad's friend… welcome."
John sat beside Murad, while Iris took the other side, observing quietly without interfering.
Breakfast began to be served: plates of warm bread, mountain honey, carefully cut fruits, and royal tea, only served in the morning.
The atmosphere was calm but full of anticipation.
Iris decided it was time to ignite the spark she had planned since dawn.
She placed the tea cup gently and said in a calm yet precise voice:
"We have a simple matter to discuss. I think it's time for Murad to invite his friend John to stay at the palace… at least occasionally. Your relationship—" she glanced at Murad "—is clear, and it's better for us to know your friends closely rather than letting them remain strangers."
Murad raised his eyebrows slightly, not expecting her to initiate.
John… was tense, but tried not to show it.
Queen Roxelina exchanged a quick glance with King Roland, then smiled lightly:
"If Murad is comfortable… we have no objection."
King Roland added calmly:
"Trust begins with openness. If John's presence makes our son more comfortable, we welcome it."
Murad felt warmth rise to his face… a mix of gratitude, embarrassment, and pride.
John sat straighter, trying not to appear too awed.
The conversation started lightly, about royal tea, the southern farm, and the arts, until King Roland set aside his water glass and wiped his mouth with a white cloth… then straightened in his seat.
This was the tone that signaled something official.
He spoke calmly, yet with authority impossible to ignore:
"Murad… now that you have become the Crown Prince officially, it's time to prove to the people that you are worthy of this trust."
Murad felt his heart sink slightly, freezing in place.
Even John noticed, quickly glancing at him before returning his gaze to the king.
Roland continued in a clear voice:
"There is a large city in the north, facing many difficulties… unemployment, weak services, and tension between some groups. It needs a young leader to stand among them, listen, and solve their problems. I want you to go there during the university holiday… and accomplish as much as you can within that period."
A heavy silence followed.
Iris remained silent, frowning but refraining from intervening.
Queen Roxelina pressed her hand to the table, features tense but unopposed.
John… was the only one unsure if this was good news or another burden on Murad's shoulders.
Murad tried to appear composed, but felt the ground tilt beneath him.
The task was not simple… it was his first real test as a symbol of the kingdom, not just a college student or a pampered prince.
Yet he forced himself to lift his head and speak firmly:
"I will go, Father… and do all I can."
King Roland nodded slightly in approval, resuming his tea:
"That's what I wanted to hear."
Iris shot her brother a sideways glance full of concern.
John… placed his hand lightly on Murad's knee under the table, a small, invisible gesture, but enough for Murad to feel someone stood with him, even amid this sea of heavy expectations.
Thus, the royal breakfast, seemingly a simple daily routine, became a moment that completely changed Murad's life path.
After breakfast ended and they left the hall, Murad, Iris, and John walked through the palace's wide corridors. The palace was lively in the morning, but the three of them moved in internal silence… a silence that weighed on each of them for different reasons.
When Murad opened his room door, John literally froze in place.
The room was an architectural masterpiece—high ceilings painted with gold, silk curtains flowing from ceiling to floor like waterfalls, a huge bed with velvet covers, and a window overlooking the palace's vast gardens.
John said with pure astonishment:
"Murad… is… is this your room? It's… like a palace within a palace."
Murad chuckled lightly, while John ventured further into the room, eyes wide like a child discovering a new world.
Iris stayed near the door, taking out her phone and calling Louis directly.
"Louis, why didn't you come for breakfast?"
His voice was slightly tired:
"Lawrence didn't sleep all night… and I had to go to the company early in the morning, without waking you. Sorry."
"No worries… just come to the room in a bit."
She hung up, then turned to one of the servants standing nearby:
"Bring Prince Lawrence here."
The servant bowed and left.
Iris then turned directly to her brother, without any beating around the bush:
"Murad… why did you accept the King's order? You could have refused, at least this time…"
Murad sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand through his hair nervously:
"I couldn't. Iris… this is my first real responsibility. My first test in front of the people… in front of Father… in front of everyone."
She stepped closer, but his next words stopped her for a moment:
"Then… I'll take John with me."
She looked at him sharply: "What?"
He lowered his voice slightly: "I won't tell anyone. He'll accompany me… like any ordinary person. No one should know."
John, who was admiring a piece of art on the wall, immediately turned, his face showing shock and tension:
"Murad… you're serious? That I go with you?"
"Yes. I won't go alone to a city full of chaos and pressure… I need you with me."
But Iris was not pleased with this secret challenge:
"Murad… this is not a small decision. If anyone finds out—"
Before she could finish, there was a light knock at the door.
The servant entered carrying little Prince Lawrence in his arms.
Upon seeing his mother, the child said in a small, innocent voice:
"Mom…"
Iris smiled and reached out to take him.
And with Lawrence's entrance… all tension in the room broke with a small laugh from him, as if he had come to extinguish the fire unknowingly.
But the real surprise came when John quickly approached the child, eyes sparkling:
"Come to me, my little angel…"
He picked up the boy gently, kissing his cheeks repeatedly while laughing:
"Oh my God… this is the angel who stole something special from me four months ago!"
Iris widened her eyes, pausing in place, then asked in a tone mixing doubt and shock:
"Four… months? Have you… been together since then?"
Murad took a deep breath and looked at her steadily:
"Yes."
She froze for a second… then exhaled slowly and sat on a chair near the window, while Lawrence played happily with John's hair.
For the first time… Iris saw the whole scene:
Murad—calm yet tense, John—burning with passion, and the laughing child between them…
She asked herself quietly:
Could this relationship truly survive in their complicated world?
After a few moments, a light knock sounded at the door, and Louis entered with calm steps, a weary but warm smile on his face.
Upon seeing Lawrence in John's arms, he laughed with relief:
"Finally, he's happy… I thought he'd cry all morning."
Iris looked at her husband with a glance she knew well; a glance that said "we'll talk later," but she didn't want to stir any tension in front of Murad and John.
John handed the child to his father, who took him gently, then addressed Murad:
"I was worried about you too, but it seems things are better now."
Murad simply gave a short smile, while John exchanged a quick glance with him, understanding that it was time to leave the family to their conversation.
Iris raised her hand slightly—a silent but clear signal.
"If you want to go, John… you two can relax away from the palace crowd."
John nodded, turning his gaze to Murad, who immediately understood the message.
After a few minutes of light conversation, Murad and John left the room, then the long corridors of the palace, until they reached the eastern door—the entrance Murad preferred for escaping the formalities a little.
No guards accompanied them, as Murad wished.
They got into Murad's private car, used for informal trips, and headed toward the villa.
The road between the palace and the villa passed near small forests and the kingdom's gardens, with the cold breeze lightly hitting the glass.
John kept glancing at Murad from time to time, as if trying to read what he hid behind his calm, breaking the silence:
"I didn't expect you to tell your sister about our relationship, let alone introduce me to your family."
Murad replied: "So you know… you're not someone I can afford to lose."
Finally, they reached the villa.
It was quiet, surrounded by trees, far enough from the eyes of servants and noise.
John entered first, followed by Murad, who closed the door behind them.
It wasn't long before they sat on the same sofa where they had sat the night of reconciliation.
Murad took a deep breath and spoke in a low but firm voice:
"John… I'll return to the palace shortly. At night… I need to talk to my father about the mission details."
John nodded slowly, hiding his worry behind a small smile:
"Alright… I'll be here when you return."
Murad approached him, took his hand, and squeezed it:
"I promise… I won't be gone long."
John replied calmly, with a tone full of trust shown only to Murad:
"Go… and do what you must. I'm with you, no matter what."
Murad closed his eyes for a moment, as if drawing strength from John's words.
Then he leaned toward him… and kissed him long, slowly, filled with everything he couldn't say in front of the family.
When he pulled away, he touched John's forehead and said:
"Don't be late…"
Murad finally smiled and left the villa… yet he didn't feel alone this time. John remained inside, looking toward the future that awaited them both.