The silence that stretched across the ruined bedchamber wasn't just quiet; it was a physical weight, thick with the sharp, ozone smell of lightning and the metallic tang of tundra-beast blood dripping from Lucien's silver pauldrons.
Lucien didn't explode into a blinding rage. He didn't scream treason. Instead, the Knight Commander turned terrifyingly, unnaturally still. His ice-blue eyes were completely hollow, devoid of any human spark as they locked onto the unmistakable silhouette of Thoris pinned against Cassian beneath the heavy fur comforter.
Slowly, deliberately, Lucien reached out with his left hand and pulled the heavy, splintered oak doors shut behind him.
*Click.*
He didn't sheathe his broadsword. Instead, he slammed the tip of the holy blade directly into the floorboards. A blinding, intricate web of golden, geometric lines violently erupted from the steel, racing along the walls, ceiling, and windows, instantly sealing the entire royal suite in a high-tier *HolySanctuaryArray*. The room was completely cut off from the outside world. No sound, no mana, and no cries for help could escape. It was a perfect, soundproof execution chamber.
"Sir Arden," Thoris purred, his voice dropping into a dangerous, gravelly rumble as he slowly shifted his massive, bare-chested frame off Cassian, his hand instinctively reaching for his jagged greatsword leaning against the bedpost. "Sealing the room? Are you planning to invite yourself to the covers, or are you just eager to die in the dark?"
"A diplomatic accident is remarkably easy to fabricate," Lucien spoke, his voice a flat, dead tone that made the atmospheric pressure in the room drop past absolute zero. He didn't look at Thoris; his hollow eyes were fixed entirely on the flush of color on Cassian's neck and the unmistakable, heave saturating under the sheets. Cassian was powerful, if he had wanted to push away away the barbarian from him then he would have...but he didn't.
"A tragic tale. The First Blade of the Horde, overwhelmed by a rogue shadow beast in the middle of the night, bleeding out before the Vanguard could breach the doors. The Emperor will weep, the Steppes will mourn, and no one will ever know you died like a dog in a soft-skin's bed."
Thoris's amber eyes widened, a sudden, cold jolt of genuine adrenaline shooting down his spine. The barbarian prince realized, with absolute certainty, that the Holy Knight wasn't playing a political game. Lucien Arden was genuinely, profoundly psychopathic enough to ignite a continental war right here, right now, just to erase the memory of what had happened beneath the regal covers.
Lucien raised his broadsword, the holy mana turning a dark, volatile shade of executioner's gold. "Step away from the Prince, barbarian. Your lineage ends tonight."
Cassian sat completely frozen in the middle of the bed, his silk nightshirt slightly damp, his heart still hammering against his ribs from the physical shock of his sudden, involuntary release. He stared at the golden sealing array, then at Lucien's unhinged eyes, and then at Thoris's tightening grip on his sword.
'If they fight in this sealed room, the structural damage alone will expose everything,' Cassian calculated.
'The underclassmen will see it. The High Court will investigate. The gossip columns will confirm that the Second Prince was compromised by a barbarian. My reputation, my private militia, my entire timeline—ruined because these two alpha toddlers can't control their primitive, hormonal instincts!'
Just then a sudden, blinding, and thoroughly majestic rage consumed Cassian. He had officially crossed the threshold of survival panic and entered a state of pure, unadulterated, corporate executive wrath.
*BOOM!*
Before Lucien could swing his blade or Thoris could leap from the mattress, Cassian didn't reach for his dagger. Instead, he violently unleashed his own elementary-mana in a sudden, explosive shockwave that erupted directly from the center of the bed. The hazy blue, localized windy blast violently slammed into both men, knocking Thoris backward off the mattress onto the floorboards and violently rattling Lucien's heavy silver armor, forcing the knight back two full steps.
"Both of you... SHUT YOUR GODDAMNED MOUTHS!"
Cassian aggressively threw the heavy fur blankets aside, sitting up in the center of the grand bed. His black hair fell messily across his face, his crimson eyes burning with a lethal, unhinged feracity that completely eclipsed the holy bloodlust in the room. He didn't look like a compromised victim; he looked like an absolute tyrant presiding over a courtroom of idiots.
He snapped his head toward Thoris, pointing a sharp, trembling finger at the bare-chested barbarian prince who was currently scrambling up from the floor.
"You incompetent, primitive, brainless northern fool!" Cassian hissed, his voice a freezing, aristocratic lash that cut through the silence. "Did you honestly think your pathetic, amateurish little distraction at the gates would blind my senses? Slipped into my sheets with a localized paralyzing curse to execute an espionage infiltration? You couldn't even manage to keep your hands steady! Your assassination attempt was a pathetic, sloppy farce, Thoris! If you ever breach my balcony again with your primitive tribal warfare tactics, I won't wait for a knight—I will personally dissect your carcass and feed it to your own tundra-beast!"
Thoris froze, his jaw practically dropping to the floor. He blinked, completely bewildered by how aggressively Cassian had just rewritten the hyper-intimate, breathy encounter beneath the covers into a failed "tactical assassination and paralyzed espionage attempt." He opened his mouth to brag, to remind Cassian of how his body had literally just shivered in pleasure—but the sheer, lethal, unblinking authority in Cassian's crimson glare told him one thing:
'Play along with the script, or I will use every ounce of my imperial power to erase your horde from the map.'
"A-An assassination attempt?" Thoris muttered, a forced, thoroughly amused smirk returning to his face as he played along to save face. "Right. Of course. You... sensed my blade in the dark, then?"
"Obviously!" Cassian snapped, turning his furious, venomous gaze directly onto Lucien, who stood paralyzed in the center of the room.
"And you!" Cassian roared at the Knight Commander, standing up from the bed entirely, his silk nightshirt billowing as he strode right up to the edge of Lucien's golden sealing array, completely unbothered by the humming mana.
"The legendary Hero of the Empire! The Commander of the Holy Vanguard! You let a single, low-tier beast distract you from your singular, unconditional directive! An international intruder literally scaled my walls and stood over my sleeping body while you were playing shepherd in the stables!"
Lucien's dead, hollow eyes violently shattered. The dark, volatile executioner's light on his broadsword instantly vanished, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming look of sheer, agonizing guilt and shock. He lowered his blade, his hands trembling slightly beneath his leathered gloves.
"My Prince..." Lucien choked out, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate panic as he looked at Cassian's furious face.
"—I merely detected the disturbance at the gates... I thought the perimeter guards—"
"The perimeter guards are incompetent, and so are you tonight, Sir Arden!" Cassian interrupted, his corporate gaslighting reaching an absolute crescendo of aristocratic perfection. He rubbed his temples with a theatrical, deeply disgusted sigh.
"Both of you are an absolute disgrace to the martial arts of this continent. One of you is a trespassing failure of a spy, and the other is a negligent guard who cannot handle a basic diversion. Look at this room! Look at my doors! Look at the sheets!"
Cassian gestured wildly to the messy bed, entirely framing the sweat and the scent of his physical release as the aftermath of a high-stakes, close-quarters mana struggle against a paralyzing curse.
"I am thoroughly, deeply disgusted by the utter lack of professionalism in this sector," Cassian drawled, his voice dropping into a cold, final, and completely unyielding command.
"Sir Arden, dismantle this ridiculous sealing array immediately. Prince Thoris, take your clothes and vacate my sight before I have the logistics ministers revoke your summit permits for illegal espionage. And both of you... get out of my room. NOW!!"
The silence returned, but the entire dynamic of the room had been completely, masterfully flipped.
Thoris slowly picked up his boots and his greatsword, shaking his head with a low, breathless chuckle of absolute, profound admiration.
'He shifted a midnight tryst into a failed state execution to protect his throne,' the barbarian prince thought, his obsession with Cassian cementing into something permanent.
"As you wish... My Prince. I shall refine my... 'tactics' for the training grounds tomorrow."
With a swift, silent motion, Thoris slipped back out through the balcony window, vanishing into the dense northern fog.
Lucien stood alone in the doorway, his golden array dissolving back into his blade. He looked down at the floor, his broad shoulders slumped in absolute, crushing defeat. He didn't say a word. He didn't dare look at the bed. He simply offered a deep, agonizingly respectful bow, his silver armor clinking softly as he backed out into the hallway to guard the threshold with a newfound, hyper-fixated desperation.
As the heavy doors finally clicked shut, Cassian slowly collapsed backward onto the edge of the mattress. He buried his face entirely in his hands, his modern soul letting out a long, thoroughly broken, and entirely exhausted wail into the quiet room.
'Whaaaa!, I survived the night... I gaslit the entire timeline... but my body is completely spent and I still have to teach advanced mana-compression to forty fanatical teenagers at 6:00 AM. Somebody please just end this loop, entirely!'
*****
During the Afternoon.
The day proceeded as Cassian planned, but Thoris couldn't stop lurking at his side along with Lucien. Lucien promised himself to never leave Cassian alone for the barbarian to take his chances again.
'A failed assassination?...oh please I could have sworn you two were snuggling into each other's arms with heaving breaths.' Lucien clicked his tongue in disdain as he glared towards Thoris's side.
Cassian feeling the pressure behind his head, he let out a soft sigh.
No matter where he went, these two shadows followed.
Lucien remained glued to his side with the unwavering dedication of a royal knight, while Thoris lingered nearby like a predator patiently stalking its prey. Neither man trusted the other to be alone with Cassian, and Cassian was rapidly losing patience with both of them.
As Cassian wstrolled through the Academy pathways, he stared at his surroundings with a blank expression.
'I need a plan.' Cassian's fingers tightened against the edge of his cloak.
'These brutes need to understand something. They look at me as though I'm some helpless prize waiting to be claimed. A damsel to rescue and a treasure to possess.'
His jaw clenched.
'I am a man. A true man."
The memory of Thoris's actions still made his skin crawl. 'Even after countless timelines, the barbarian remained exactly the same. Unpredictable, obsessive.
Dangerously possessive and in timeline eleven Thoris always took what he wanted just like he had done the previous night.'
'And Lucien isn't much better.
The knight hid it behind discipline and devotion, but I could feel the subtle possessiveness simmering beneath the surface. And since I can't seem to get rid of them... perhaps it's time to remind them that they are not needed.' His crimson eyes narrowed.
'Let them watch as I prove them wrong.'
"Elias."
The butler straightened immediately.
"Yes your Highness, this humble servant answers your call"
"Did you prepare my private residence in the city as I instructed?"
"I did, Your Highness."
"Good." Cassian rose from his seat with a side smile playing on his lips.
"Prepare a weekend bag. We'll leave immediately." Elias blinked, surprised.
"Immediately, Your Highness?"
"Yes. We'll use a standard carriage. No imperial insignias. No royal escort.... just standard." A faint smile tugged at Cassian's lips as he gave Elias a side eye
"I'd rather avoid attention as I indulge myself in adulterated activities."
*****
Several hours later, the carriage stopped before an elegant townhouse hidden within one of the capital's affluent districts.
The moment Elias opened the doors of the carriage, Cassian stepped out and headed inside the gates of his private residence, proceeding further inside the mansion.
What greeted them left the Lucien speechless.
Elias stood by the heavy mahogany doors of the primary lounge, his posture immaculate as he offered a sharp, low bow.
"The estate has been prepared exactly to your specifications, Your Highness. The guests you requested from the district's elite pavilions have also long arrived."
"Good," Cassian drawled, his voice dropping into that familiar, freezing note of absolute aristocratic detachment.
"Leave the vintage on the side table, Elias. And don't look at me as if I've lost my mind. I am simply reclaiming my court with this." Elias didn't understand what he meant and when the double doors opened, Lucien's breath hitched in his throat as low-lit lounge was completely transformed. The heavy scent of imported myrrh and distilled jasmine choked the air.
And spread across the velvet divans were seven of the city's most renowned noble courtesans, their silk wraps shifting as they looked up at the prince's entrance. The renowned courtesans occupied the lounge, conversing quietly amongst themselves while attendants served wine and delicacies to lift the mood.
And at the center of the divans, leaning against the main velvet bolster, sat a remarkably beautiful, lean young man with striking, delicate features. His long, raven hair fell in silk waves cascading past his shoulders, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of fear and profound anticipation as his eyes fell towards the tall and lean silhouette of Cassian Valemont.
'The tyrant prince...he is here.'
Soft music drifted through the room.
Candles illuminated polished wood and velvet furnishings.
Meanwhile, Cassian surveyed the room with satisfaction as he stood by the doorway, taking his time.
'There's no point preserving my pride anymore. Those bastards shattered it a long time ago.' Cassian's gaze flickered briefly toward the window.
'I've lived too many lives, I've seen too much and if they insist on treating me like someone to dominate... then I'll remind them exactly who I am.' he smiled trailing his fingers to his lips.
'Today, I'll be the one setting the rules. I have ruled syndicates. I have moved armies. I am not a delicate piece of porcelain to be stolen by a northern brute or hoarded by an unhinged paladin. They think because of last night... because my body reacted to that primitive bastard's touch... that I am a damsel to be cornered? No. I am a man. A true man. And if my pride has already been dragged through the mud across eleven different timelines, then I have absolutely nothing left to lose by throwing their own game right back to their faces.'
Cassian strode through the foyer, his dark cloak falling away to reveal the loose, deep-emerald silk robe beneath it, hugging loosely on his muscles.
Elias retreated to the shadow of the furthest corner, his fingers slightly trembling, clasped tightly behind his back.
'I thought he had changed,' the butler's mind whispered in deep, localized despair. 'I thought the drunkard prince had become a newfound genius commander... but this... this is far more volatile.'
"Elias. Lucien," Cassian spoke, not bothering to look back as he sank onto the central chaise lounge, three women instantly draping themselves over his knees, their small hands reaching out to refill his golden chalice.
"Give us the room."
Elias offered a stiff, silent nod, turning on his heel to slip through the exit. But Lucien remained an immovable wall by the doorway, his leathered glove hands tucked behind his back, his ice-blue eyes fixed entirely on the silk robes pooling around Cassian's thighs.
"I am merely your guard, Your Highness," Lucien spoke, his voice a freezing, low vibration that made the oil lamps flicker. "Please do not mind my presence. My duty does not pause for your–... recreation."
"Very well then," Cassian smirked, a sharp, thoroughly wicked glint returning to his crimson eyes.
'But sit down and enjoy the show, Sir Arden," Cassian purred, his fingers trailing lazily down the bare shoulder of the woman nearest to him, his gaze locking directly with the knight's dead eyes. "Standing tall above us like a gargoyle is only scaring my darlings."
Lucien did as told. He pulled a heavy leather armchair into the shadows, crossed one armored leg over the other, and then leaned his chin on his gloved fist, his gaze turning razor-sharp as he watched the prince's every micro-expression and movements.
Cassian leaned back, letting the smooth silk of his robe slide entirely off his left shoulder and the heavy fabric pooled at his waist, exposing the firm, corded muscle of his bicep and chest—the pale skin dotted by a single, flush pink nipple that stood out like a plum blossom in winter.
But that was far from over.
Cassian moved deliberately as he untangled his robe from the waist down and exposing more than what was expected of him.
The collective, sharp gasps from the courtesans proved he wasn't disappointing as a man. And as for Lucien–...for the first time ever seeing his highness naked and overexposing himself, Lucien's fingers twitched...ever so slightly as his blue eyes narrowed into dark slits.
On the other end of the room. Thoris sat perched on the iron railing of the balcony, his jagged greatsword resting between his thighs as his closest aide, Kaelen, watched from the dark behind him.
High above the townhouse, Thoris crouched upon a balcony ledge. The barbarian prince stared through the glass with narrowed amber eyes.
"What is he doing?" the aide Kaelen muttered and Thoris grinned.
"He is making a statement."
Thoris's amber eyes were fixed entirely through the glass, a low, feral chuckle rumbling in his chest as he took in the entire layout of the room.
'Let's see what kind of game you're playing now my fierce prince.'
Inside the house, Cassian beckoned toward the beautiful young man seated nearby him. He seemed so anxious, as if not knowing what to do compared to his colleagues. And knowing the rumours circulating about this tyrant prince he didn't want to displease him, not after how many times his owner and his colleagues had warned him to do his best not to annoy or infuriate Cassian Valemont or else he would never see the following day.
"Come here." Cassian's bold voice snapped the young courtesan back to reality and he immediately obeyed Cassian's call.
Cassian studied him carefully.
The young man's thin hands trembled slightly and Cassian nudged him to look at him.
"What is your name?"
"My humble name is Sora Curzon your highness."
"Oh you have a last name so you are of a noble blood...a fallen noble then I assume." Sora's hand stiffened on the hem of his silk robe and just then Cassian chuckled as his cold smirk danced on his lips.
"Are you nervous to be on my presence then Sora?"
"A little, Your Highness...this is merely my first time so please have mercy if I have made a mistake and displeased you." Sora's long and dark lashes fluttered as his trembling eyes now glistened with tears, trying to look away from Cassian's piercing blood eyes.
'The owner was right...this man is truly scary.' Sora gulped down the rest of his thoughts and Cassian chuckled, leaning his lips closer to Sora's ear and he whispered.
"Relax I don't bite....at least not too hard."
To the surprise of everyone present, his tone softened.
"And I won't mistreat you, let alone executing you." Cassian's lips planted a gentle bite on Sora's earlobe and then trailed soft pecks on the side of his cheek and jaw.
The room fell silent.
Most courtesans were accustomed to wealthy nobles treating them as nothing but pleasure objects and merely decorative dolls.
Therefore Cassian's behavior was unexpected. Even though he was cold and commanding.
Yet he was strangely considerate.
The young man Sora Curzon looked genuinely stunned.
And Cassian simply smirked.
"Now, kneel down Sora," Cassian commanded.
The tone wasn't the voice of a soft-skinned royal; it was the bold, domineering rasp of a man who had commanded syndicates in past lives.
The beautiful, long-haired male courtesan scrambled off the divan, his knees hitting the thick carpet as he looked up at Cassian with wide, breathless submission. These performers were used to being treated as disposable tools for aristocratic pleasure by the belittling and unaffectionate clients. But the cold, terrifying gravity radiating from the Second Prince was different—it was heavy, intoxicating, and entirely commanding.
Cassian leaned down, his fingers gripping the young man's jaw with white-knuckled intensity, and pulled him into a deep, yearning kiss. It was unexpected, passionate, and entirely unbothered by the audience in the shadows.
"Open your mouth,"
Cassian whispered against the boy's lips, his thumb tracing the inner line of the courtesan's mouth, testing the width of his jaw with a practiced, modern efficiency.
"Pull out your tongue."
The young man obeyed instantly, his eyes hazy with submission. With a swift, calculated movement, Cassian caught the man's tongue with his own, causing the receiver to stiffen in sheer shock before melting entirely into the plush cushions. He didn't expect it and yet he didn't hate it.
Cassian broke the contact, a dark, mocking smirk tracing his lips as he looked past the boy's shoulder straight toward the dark corner where Lucien sat.
"Now...be a good boy and show some love to my other member. You have done this before, correct?"
The young man faintly shook his head, his face flushing deep red as he looked away from Cassian's piercing crimson eyes.
Cassian caught his chin, forcing his face back up with an unyielding grip.
"It's alright, you did say it was your first time after all." Cassian purred, his voice a low, seductive vibration.
"Let big brother teach you."
*****
As the hours bled into the night, and the central lounge of the private townhouse became a sweltering, scent-heavy theater of absolute dominance.
Cassian didn't leave a single companion untouched. With a mercenary's spatial awareness, he rotated his focus sparingly but perfectly, managing all seven courtesans with an unyielding, modern precision that defied the conservative traditions of the empire.
'And the reports say he has never been with a woman before?' Lucien thought in the dark corner. His back was pressed against the leather chair, one leg crossed tightly over the other to hide the sudden, heavy swelling stretching beneath his formal trousers. His leathered hands were clamped onto the armrests so hard the leather was beginning to tear. His ice-blue eyes were bloodshot, tracking every drop of sweat that rolled down on the prince's body.
Cassian threw his head back, a dark, heavy groan tearing from his throat as the male courtesan took care of him below, while two women pressed themselves against his glistening chest, their lips marking his pale skin with their love bites.
And by the third hour, the emerald silk robes were entirely discarded. Cassian's body was dripping wet with sweat, his black hair sticking in messy, damp strands against his flushed, glistening face. He moved with the raw, rhythmic power of a seasoned commander, entirely dominating the young man beneath him on the velvet carpet, utilizing modern angles and unyielding positions of pleasure that made the surrounding courtesans weep in sheer, breathless exhaustion.
Cassian paused mid-thrust, his muscles rippling under the low oil lamps as he bit his lower lip.
There was an unmistakable shift inside of Sora that slightly drained his mana. But it wasn't hostile, it was a warm and tingling sensation, it felt absurdly good that he couldn't pull himself out of him.
Suddenly Cassian reached up, casually pushing the damp hair back from his forehead, his lazy, seductive eyes locking directly onto the shadows where Lucien sat frozen.
Through the glass of the balcony, Thoris was practically tearing the iron railing apart with his bare hands. The barbarian prince's breath was heavy, his tattooed fingers buried deep in his own trousers as he groped his swollen, aching heat, his amber eyes completely bloodshot as they glued themselves to the glistening movement of Cassian's thighs.
'Gods above... he isn't a prize to be hunted,' Thoris thought, his teeth grinding in an absolute, agonizing thirst.
'He's a king.'
Cassian's lips curved into a sharp, triumphant smirk, flashing a slow, deliberate wink toward Lucien's corner.
'Do you see this, boys?' Cassian's internal soul let out a wild, mocking laugh against the darkness of the room.
'Look at me. I am a man. I hold the ground here. I dominate every soul in this room, and neither of you will ever turn me into your submissive little pawn. I am the one who holds the leash!'
In the corner, Lucien didn't stand up. He rested his spine heavily against the back of his chair, his fingers slowly relaxing against the torn leather armrests. A slow, terrifyingly sharp smirk crept onto the Knight Commander's lips as his eyes narrowed into slivers of cold, calculating ice.
He didn't speak. He didn't interrupt the display. But as he watched the prince consume the room, a singular, dark thought settled deep into the knight's twisted mind.
'Let him play his games tonight,' Lucien thought, his smirk widening as the holy mana in his blood began to hum with a dark, possessive certainty.
'Let him think he is the one in control. The more ferociously he barks like an alpha... the more exquisite it will feel when I finally shackle those wrists to my altar.'
*****