The Grand Celebration had finally wound down. The vast ballroom, once a glittering sea of nobles, was now populated only by cleaning staff extinguishing candles. The visiting dignitaries, including Riven and Barron, had retired to the guest quarters to rest in preparation for the obligatory court appearances the following day.
Vaelorian knew, with a certainty that thrummed through his veins, that he couldn't let the night end without talking to Riven. In his private chambers, Vaelorian's caregivers moved with practiced efficiency, prepping his scented bath and laying out his night clothes. He watched them with strained impatience, waiting for the moment they would leave him alone.
The instant the door clicked shut, Vaelorian pulled on a simple tunic and trousers, his heart hammering against his ribs. He couldn't risk the formal corridors. He had to be fast, and silent. He closed his eyes and located the Ashbourne suite and, with a subtle exertion of power, focused his intent. A familiar whoosh of displaced air enveloped him, and Vaelorian materialized inside the room.
Riven was startled, his hand flying to grab the nearest object—a heavy hairbrush. He had just finished his bath and was in the middle of drying his hair with a towel, his chest still bare and gleaming with residual moisture.
The shock quickly dissolved into a potent, consuming rage the moment he saw Vaelorian.
"Get out!" Riven hissed, dropping the towel and pointing a rigid finger at the Prince. "Get out of here right now!"
Vaelorian didn't move. He stood his ground, his expression a desperate mixture of fear and devotion.
"I won't. Not until we talk. Please, Riven, don't make me leave."
"You want to talk?" Riven asked, his voice shaking with the force of his repressed anger. He threw the hairbrush onto the bed with a violent clatter. "Actually, let's fucking talk. You told me you loved me—you swore yourself to me—and then you got engaged to someone else the very next day! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?"
Riven's breath hitched, and he forced himself to continue, raising a hand when Vaelorian opened his mouth to interrupt, a clear signal that he wasn't finished.
"And you know what the worst part is?" Riven continued, his voice breaking with anguish. "No one knew about it, my pain. Because I was your dirty little secret, Vaelorian. Everyone was so fucking happy for you! 'Oh, the Prince made a match with a foreign Princess, they're going to get married and have cute little babies!' What about me? What was I supposed to do with all the feelings inside me, huh? Go about my life pretending that there was a time when you weren't mine?"
Vaelorian's face was white, the raw pain in Riven's words tearing through his defenses.
"Riven, I am so sorry," Vaelorian pleaded, stepping forward, his hands outstretched in a futile gesture. "I never meant to hurt you this way. I have no excuse. I was a coward. I only hope you give me another chance. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you."
Riven scoffed, a short, bitter sound. "Make it up to me? What does that even mean, Vaelorian? Are we going to get married? Or are you thinking about keeping me as your side piece after marrying the Princess? Because I won't be that anymore, Vaelorian. I'm not a secret you get to keep."
Vaelorian straightened instantly, the strength returning to his voice. "I am not marrying the Princess!" he stated strongly, his eyes blazing with conviction. "Riven, my love, you are who I want to be with. It has always been you. Which is why I've been desperately trying to break this engagement off."
The declaration—so bald, so resolute—hit Riven with stunning force. His anger faltered, replaced by disbelief. He lowered his defensive stance, his eyes wide.
"You were going to... call off the engagement?" Riven asked, the question barely above a whisper.
"Yes!" Vaelorian confirmed, relief flooding his expression. "I just had to do it in a way that wouldn't cause a bloody war. I had to make myself politically untenable."
Riven's eyes widened further as realization dawned, connecting Lyra's words with the rumors he'd ignored out of anger.
"Wait... Is that why I've been hearing rumors that the Prince is acting completely out of character?"
Now it was Vaelorian's turn to be genuinely surprised. He blinked, a slow, disbelieving expression crossing his features.
"You... you actually heard about my self-sabotaging schemes?"
Riven rolled his eyes, a familiar, exasperated gesture. "It's kinda hard not to think something is off when your ex starts acting like you, Vaelorian." he muttered, trying to regain his angry momentum. The older boy literally did everything Riven would do when he's trying to piss someone off.
Vaelorian, however, couldn't help himself. He smiled, a genuine, joyful smile that lit up his face, making him look young and carefree again, exactly like the Vaelorian Riven had fallen for at the camp. It was the first sincere smile he'd worn all night, the first time in months he could actually breathe easily.
"Don't you fucking smile like that!" Riven snapped, feeling the dangerous pull of the old affection.
"I can't help it," Vaelorian laughed through his tears. "It's the first time in months we've talked without a wall between us. It's the first time I've been with you like this, my love. I've missed you so much."
Riven let out a heavy sigh, the fight finally draining out of him. He looked Vaelorian in the eye. "You really hurt me, Vaelorian."
"I know," Vaelorian acknowledged, his voice quiet and sincere. He stepped forward, his eyes earnest. "I promise you, I will never do anything to hurt you ever again. Even if it means stepping down as the future Emperor. You're my life. I don't want to live without you."
Riven studied his face, seeing the sincerity, the remorse, and the love that had never truly faded. He finally nodded, a profound exhaustion settling over him.
"I accept your apology."
Vaelorian's face flooded with relief. He lunged forward, ready to gather Riven into his arms, to hold him tight. Riven, however, was faster. Just before Vaelorian embraced him, Riven's knee shot up, connecting with a brutal, precise force. Vaelorian gasped, doubling over with a strangled cry of agony, clutching his crotch. Riven leaned down, his face a mixture of residual fury and satisfaction.
"That's for breaking my heart, asshole." he whispered coldly, his voice shaking with emotion. "And if you ever do something like that again, I'll really cut off your fucking dick and set it on fire."
As Vaelorian gasped and struggled to regain his breath, tears streaming from the sheer pain, Riven didn't pull away. He simply stood there until the worst of the shock subsided. Vaelorian slowly straightened, his face contorted, but his eyes were fixed on Riven. With a tremendous effort, he gathered the still-furious, beautiful young Lord into his arms and closed the space between their mouths, pouring all his longing, regret, and relief into a deep, desperate kiss.
The pain of the sharp, targeted strike to Vaelorian's crotch faded quickly beneath the overwhelming relief of finally holding Riven again. The desperation in his kiss was an immediate, powerful release—a surge of pent-up longing, fear, and apology poured into the reunion.
Riven responded with equal fervor, his own fury momentarily drowned out by the fierce, aching need to be close to the man he loves, the man he thought he'd lost forever. They stumbled back onto the bed, their movements clumsy with urgency. Clothes were quickly abandoned, discarded pieces of linens and silk littering the expensive carpet—symbols of the complicated, political world they were desperate to escape, if only for a few hours.
This wasn't their usual slow, lovemaking at the camp. This was a fierce, reclaiming fire. Every touch was an answer to the months of silent, crushing torment.
"God, I thought I'd never..." Vaelorian choked out, burying his face in Riven's neck, the scent of the familiar skin and soap almost making him weep with relief. "I thought I'd lost you forever."
"With how you handled everything, you were supposed to lose me forever," Riven rasped, his hands digging into the solid muscle of Vaelorian's back, pulling him closer, anchoring him. But even as he voiced the pain, he offered forgiveness with his body, his movements communicating need and urgency.
Their lovemaking was a conversation that bypassed words, a frantic, desperate reaffirmation. It was a plea for understanding, a physical acknowledgement of the betrayal, and, ultimately, a profound promise of reconciliation. They moved in harmony, two halves of a whole finally snapping back together.
For Riven, it was a release of months of anger and heartache. For Vaelorian, it was an act of sincere apology—a vow that this, this connection, would always be his true purpose, more vital than any crown or treaty.
In the aftermath, they lay tangled in the silken sheets, bathed in the soft, flickering light of the guest room. The silence was no longer heavy with resentment but soft with the warmth of shared breath. Riven traced the line of Vaelorian's jaw, his expression softening as he looked at the man who had risked so much to be with him.
"For someone so smart, you really are an idiot, Your Highness." he murmured, devoid of real malice.
Vaelorian turned his head, kissing the inside of Riven's wrist. "I know. And I'll be an idiot a thousand times over if it means keeping you safe and being with you."
Riven pulled him close, holding him tightly to his chest. They slept curled around each other, two people who had just fought and won the most important battle of their lives yet, finding refuge in the other's arms from the cold, ruthless world waiting for them outside the door.