A week later.
The Valemont Imperial Palace had eventually grown accustomed to the quiet gloom accompanied by Cassian's deep silence from his private quarters—a place that now resembled a heavily protected tomb.
But on Adrian's side of the residence, things were slowly shifting.
The heavy iron collar around Thoris's neck did not fall with a grand, formal ceremony.
It was removed quietly inside Adrian's private study. The small brass key was turned carefully by Sevval under Adrian's direct supervision. When the heavy iron latch clicked open, revealing the dark, bruised impression left on Thoris's tan skin after a month of continuous wear, Thoris didn't immediately reach up to touch his neck as anyone would have expected.
Instead, he kept his sharp golden eyes fixed entirely on Adrian, asking himself endless questions in silence. He wondered what this sudden freedom truly meant for him, and just what this beautiful Prince standing right in front of him was planning to do with him next. But no matter how many times he asked himself those questions, he couldn't come up with definite answers to ease his worries.
"You are no longer bound by iron, Thoris,"
Adrian said smoothly, leaning back comfortably against the edge of his mahogany desk. His slender hand rested casually over his growing baby bump, gently brushing over the soft fabric of his robes out of habit.
"Your freedom to move within and beyond these palace gates is officially restored,"
Adrian continued, his voice calm and even.
"And unlike in the Steppes, here in Edrath you may keep your birth name, even though it currently holds no real worth to you as a banished warrior."
He paused, watching Thoris's reaction closely.
"And since you are no longer a warrior,"
Adrian added,
"I believe it is safe to say that you belong more to the commoner class of Edrath now. And I have already instructed Sevval to prepare a proper imperial identity plaque for you as our official immigrated resident."
Adrian tilted his head slightly, his tone shifting into something firmer.
"But do not misunderstand me, Thoris—your leash has simply been replaced by something far tighter than a simple iron collar."
Without a moment's hesitation, Thoris slowly dropped down onto one knee before him. He reached out with his large hand, gently taking Adrian's smaller fingers and pressing a warm, lingering kiss to the back of his knuckles.
"My leash is where it has always belonged, My Lord,"
Thoris murmured raspily, his deep voice thick with quiet, absolute devotion.
"Right at your feet."
*****
Without the heavy iron collar and clanking shackles suppressing his movements, the full, imposing presence of the former Great Warrior returned completely. Yet, he did not use his new freedom to wander aimlessly or seek out his lost glory. He used it for one singular, obsessive purpose: Prince Adrian's absolute, unwavering comfort.
To the servants and imperial guards of the inner palace, Thoris became an almost terrifyingly attentive shadow.
He strictly refused to let anyone else he was not familiar with prepare Adrian's daily meals. He personally inspected every single ingredient brought into the royal kitchens, sniffing the fresh herbs, testing the clear water, and carefully preparing traditional, rich mountain broths known back in the Eastern Continent to strengthen an expecting bride's vitality.
If a cold draft swept through the grand stone corridors, Thoris was instantly there, wrapping a heavy, fleece-lined velvet cloak around Adrian's shoulders before the prince could even utter a single complaint about the weather.
While caring for the prince, Thoris was also quietly reforming his own life.
He had transitioned from a bound slave to a trusted personal servant, earning a regular monthly salary just like the rest of the palace staff. Even that arrangement was a result of Adrian's direct favor.
And with Adrian's visible change of attitude toward him, the palace servants and guards naturally began to acknowledge his presence as well.
Thoris didn't even know that he had it in himself.
Humility.
And now that he no longer walked around carrying massive battle-axes, topless and shouting loudly, it was safe to say he was far less scary to the people around him.
In fact, he was remarkably easy on the eyes. The female servants in the palace couldn't stop rolling his name off their tongues, fawning over him whenever he passed through the halls.
After all, Thoris possessed a sturdy, broad-shouldered body that was carved from endless battles he had experienced during his years as a warrior. His dark servant tunics fitted his tall frame perfectly, accentuating his powerful figure. And his usually unruly hair was detangled of its chaotic braids, combed back smoothly, and tied neatly behind his head.
He looked unusually spectacular—looking like a true noble lord even while dressed in simple servant attire.
And now that his shackles were completely gone and his freedom of movement was officially granted by Emperor Cedric himself, Thoris began making brief, practical trips out of the imperial palace and into the bustling capital market of Edrath.
Walking through the crowded stone streets of the capital, Thoris drew endless stares wherever he went. He was a towering mountain warrior dressed in fine, understated imperial linens. At first glance, passersby easily mistook him for a visiting foreign lord. The commoners whispered among themselves, recognizing the sharp features of the Eastern Continent, but absolutely no one dared to approach him—not with the quiet, lethal aura he still carried around himself.
Thoris had a singular mission every time he passed through the grand city gates: sourcing rare, specific goods that could not be easily found within the royal pantries.
He searched the foreign merchant stalls for dried mountain berries from the East—a sweet, tangy fruit that Adrian had once mentioned offhandedly while craving something nostalgic from the Steppes. He bought soft, high-grade winter wools to hand-weave into small blankets, and sourced rare herbal teas known to soothe early morning nausea.
When he returned to the quiet palace grounds late one afternoon, carrying a small, carefully wrapped package, Sevval met him near the snow-dusted inner courtyard garden.
"Did you really walk three whole miles down to the lower docks just for those berries?"
Sevval asked quietly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.
"The royal kitchens only had preserved ones,"
Thoris replied flatly, not even slowing down his steady march toward the inner palace quarters.
"The fresh ones taste much better. They will make him happy."
Sevval watched Thoris's broad back as he hurried toward the prince's private wing, a quiet, amused smile touching Sevval's lips.
And inside the quiet bedchamber, Adrian was resting comfortably on the wide window divan, looking out at the falling snow outside. Hearing the heavy oak doors open, he turned his head to see Thoris stepping inside, damp from the cold winter air. Thoris carefully set a small wooden bowl of fresh, bright red mountain berries on the table right beside him.
Adrian looked down at the vibrant berries, then looked up directly into Thoris's expectant, amber eyes.
"You went out in the freezing snow just for these?"
Adrian asked softly, his tone full of wonder.
"I recalled you saying you missed the taste of the East,"
Thoris said simply. He knelt down beside the divan and took Adrian's small, cold hand into his own warm, massive palms to heat them up.
"I will bring you whatever you desire, Your Highness. Absolutely anything in this world."
Adrian stared at him for a long, silent moment. The quiet, fierce devotion shining in Thoris's eyes made his heart swell with an overwhelming, breathless warmth. Reaching out with a trembling hand, Adrian picked up a single berry, placed it in his mouth, and offered a soft, breathless smile that made every single cold mile Thoris had walked entirely worth it.
"Mhm... they are very fresh,"
Adrian murmured softly, tasting the sweet juice.
"They are sweet, too."
He looked back at Thoris, his smile lingering.
"You have completely outdone yourself today."
Thoris let out a soft sigh of relief, remaining on his knees while gently massaging Adrian's resting feet.
"I am glad that you like them, My Lord,"
Thoris said softly.
"Please enjoy them all."
For a brief moment they locked eyes and Adrian's heart swelled with warmth he hated to feel for this man beneath his feet. He refused to be easily swayed by Thoris' gentleness again.
*****
Later that day, after Thoris had finished his duties in Adrian's private quarters, he headed back to his own humble dwelling. He stayed in an annex reserved entirely for the male servants.
He pushed his door open, stepped inside, and locked it behind him, letting out a heavy, tired sigh against the wood.
"Even today..."
he muttered to the silent room,
"...–he didn't ask me to get into bed with him."
Thoris kicked off his boots, took off his heavy dark blazer, and slowly unbuttoned his servant shirt as he walked toward his single bed.
'Ever since that night he drunkenly slept with me, everything changed so drastically between us... I even foolishly hoped that he would continue using my body that way.'
he thought to himself, his mind drifting back.
Just then he shook his head bitterly, pulling his arms free from his sleeves.
'Or was I simply expecting far too much from him? Especially with everything currently happening in the palace?...Perhaps he still needs some time alone to grieve for that temptress of a demon, Cassian. How disappointing of me to be so impatient.'
Thoris tossed his folded clothes onto a wooden chair before throwing his large frame onto the narrow bed. He glued his golden eyes to the plain wooden ceiling, his mind suddenly overwhelmed by a hundred different thoughts all at once.
'I wonder if he drank all of the herbal broth I brewed for him earlier...'
'I must remember to request the maids to change his bedding tomorrow morning.'
'I should also ask Sevval to tailor him new, looser silk robes, since the child seems so eager to grow larger every single day.'
Thoris suddenly bit his lower lip bitterly hard as a new thought struck him.
'I just wonder–.... if I were to carve a wooden cradle myself, would he accept it from my hands?'
He froze, his jaw tightening as reality crashed back down on him.
'No... if I did that, I would be overstepping my place as a servant entirely.'
He closed his eyes in resignation.
'I am nothing more than a common servant now. I am not allowed anywhere near my own child to claim fatherhood. Even my husband is not truly my husband anymore because of the terrible things I had done in the past. Truly, Thoris... your arrogant pride led you straight to your own demise.'
He let out a low, breathy laugh at his own foolishness, shaking his head against the pillow.
'But still... this quiet and humbling life isn't so bad either. I am learning so many things that I completely failed to learn as a foolish prince of the Steppes.'
He turned his side, staring at the small window of his room as snow fell silently outside.
'Now that I am truly starting over from nothing, I should start saving my wages to purchase a small house for my family. Just in case things eventually work out for the better. A small home, warm enough for the three of us to live safely as a real family.'
His eyes softened slightly.
'If Adrian ever decides to get back together with me—a mere commoner now—he would be forced to leave the luxury of the palace and live in social humiliation. Because of me, he would get hurt all over again... So I must work exceptionally hard. I must earn the Emperor's trust once again and build a true foundation for my family.'
With those comforting thoughts lingering softly in his mind, Thoris slowly closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.
'I just wish he'd know that I truly want to be together with him. Genuinely.'
*****