Aiden's jaw tightened when he heard Elliott blame himself.
"This war is not because of you," he said, voice low but firm. "It's because of the Altherians."
Elliott let out a bitter laugh—dry, hollow, and far too broken for someone like him.
"I'm still complicit in this," he whispered. "And who will bleed for this war? Not me." His voice cracked as he went on. "Because I'm the selfish ruler, aren't I? I just... I just make the decisions. My people pay the price in blood."
Aiden's gaze darkened with pain. He opened his mouth, ready to deny it, to counter every cruel word the emperor had just uttered—but Elliott beat him to it.
"Don't try to deny it," Elliott snapped. "I'll just sit here—safe in my luxurious palace—while people lose their lives in my name."
He scoffed, a mocking, bitter sound. His hands came up to cover his face as the tears finally broke free. Hot and fast, they rolled down his cheeks.
"I'm sending my soldiers to die. I'm forcing farmers and blacksmiths and boys who've never even held a sword to pick up a weapon and march to their deaths," he gasped out, his voice spiraling into panic.
He hiccupped mid-sentence, and the weight of everything slammed down all at once. "They're just boys, Aiden. They're children—and normal people, Aiden—"
His breath hitched violently. He wasn't even trying to hide the tears anymore. They fell freely, his words dissolving into sobs that shook his entire frame.
The emperor of the empire- The most powerful man in the empire- curled in on himself like a wounded child. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as his body trembled with each sob. His fine robes pooled around him like spilled ink. For a moment, the only sound in the room was Elliott's broken sobbing.
Then came words. Soft. Fragile. Almost lost between the choked breaths and the raw grief, came the sentence that made Aiden's breath catch in his throat.
"I'm doing just what my father did."
Aiden's reaction was immediate. That single sentence shattered the numbness he had entered upon seeing Elliott cry like this.
"You're not," Aiden said fiercely. "You're NOTHING like that bastard."
Elliott shook his head rapidly, hands covering his face. "No. No, Aiden—"
But Aiden didn't let him spiral further. He stepped forward and grasped Elliott's shoulders, firm but careful, guiding him upright in the chair. His grip was grounding—unyielding.
"You are not," he said again, this time slower. Lower. Unshakeable. "You try. You care. That's more than he ever did."
"But—"
"No buts," Aiden snapped again, shaking his head. "Do you think your father ever thought about the people? The ones who bled for his arrogance and greed? If you were like him—if you were even a little like him—you wouldn't be shedding tears right now. You wouldn't think of people as people- you'd think of them as numbers on a report."
"But, Aiden-"
Aiden's voice trembled at the edges. Not with uncertainty, but with fury. The mere idea of Elliott think so low of himself made him want to burn the world.
"You are nothing like your father, Elliott. And I mean that with every fiber of my being. You care."
Elliott's voice was barely a whisper now.
"...But what if it's not enough?"
That question silenced the room. It dropped like a stone between them, heavier than iron, heavier than the crown resting on the polished oak table nearby.
Aiden opened his mouth—then closed it. Just for a moment. Because for once... he had no rebuttal. No ready-made answer. No comforting lie to offer.
He watched as Elliott deflated, his back curling again, his shoulders slumping under invisible weight.
"I'm not like a ruler at all," Elliott murmured. "Not physically. Not mentally. I'm too kind. Too soft to be the protector an emperor is supposed to be."
Aiden's fingers twitched. His nails dug into his palms. He wanted to scream—to deny every word—but they were the same thoughts he'd had himself. Words he'd never spoken aloud, but had thought on the hardest nights. During their fiercest arguments. When Elliott refused to punish a traitor. When he spared enemies out of mercy. When his decisions left them vulnerable.
He'd cursed that kindness before.
He had thought it a weakness.
He had blamed it for the war.
He knew—if they had crushed the threat early, if they had not extended the olive branch Elliott insisted on, then the enemy emperor would have never dared to hope. But Elliott had chosen mercy. And mercy had cost them dearly. It had grown and snowballed—into a war.
But he couldn't say it. He wouldn't. Because that truth—that cruel, heavy truth—would break Elliott.
Elliott exhaled shakily. His voice was bitter now. Hollow.
"I'm not even fit to rule physically. I can't lead them. Can't even ride to the border without falling sick. I'm useless mentally. I'm useless physically—"
"Stop."
Aiden didn't let him speak another word.
In one swift motion, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around the trembling emperor. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative.
It was desperate.
It was fierce.
He hugged Elliott to his chest, locking his arms around him with a strength that said I will not let you go.
Elliott stiffened—just for a heartbeat. Then he sagged. His entire body crumpled against the younger man's, as if the words had wrung him dry and Aiden's arms were the only thing keeping him upright.
He sniffled again, then buried his face in the curve of Aiden's shoulder. And Aiden—Aiden just held him tighter.
"You're not useless," Aiden whispered, directly into Elliott's ear. "Don't ever say that again."
"But—I can't do anything. I can't go—"
"You don't have to." Aiden's voice trembled with conviction. "That's what I'm here for."
Elliott's breath hitched. He tensed again. His voice was a tiny, broken breath.
"But... You're only twenty-one. You're only a boy, Aiden."
"I'm your boy."
That broke something in the air.
A long silence followed. Heavy. Sacred.
They stayed like that, locked in a quiet embrace. Aiden's arms were secure and unyielding around the man he loved. Elliott's fingers clutched the back of Aiden's clothes like a lifeline, like he could anchor himself to that warmth.
Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to.
Outside the window, the wind howled faintly against the palace walls, but within the room—it was still. Safe.
And, for just that moment, Elliott allowed himself to be held.
And Aiden... would not let go.
---