Aiden spoke, his voice a rough whisper, laced with fear that the fragile moment might shatter if he dared be any louder. "You know..." his thumb rubbed soft circles against Elliott's damp cheek. "If you still want to pretend nothing happened... I don't think I can."
The admission was raw and vulnerable. There was no mask left—Aiden was making it clear. They had crossed a line of no return.
Elliott's tear-filled gaze lifted, meeting his. The blonde blinked slowly, as though each movement carried the weight of years, as though every thought in his head was pressing down on him all at once. He said nothing at first. His expression was almost thoughtful, contemplative in its stillness. Finally— finally— his hand lifted, trembling but deliberate, cupping Aiden's cheek in the same reverent way the prince held his.
"I have spent my entire life being selfless," he whispered. There was no arrogance in the words, no bitterness. Just stark, unflinching truth. "Because from childhood, I knew. I knew I had responsibilities to people. To be a kind monarch to the public. To my mother—for surviving. After all she did to make sure I lived, I couldn't just... die from my own foolishness. To the throne, to my lineage, to be a good ruler. I always did what was expected of me. First as a prince, then as an emperor."
His lips parted on a shaky breath. "But this time... just this once... I want to be selfish." His fingers tightened slightly against Aiden's jaw. His voice broke into a fragile whisper. "I... I don't want to pretend nothing happened either. I... I think..."
A pause. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. His eyes were shimmering pools, glassy and wet.
"I think I also... like you."
The words were simultaneously a balm and a lightning strike to Aiden's heart. His eyes fluttered shut, as though the sheer relief was too much to bear. He had been ready for anything—ready for rejection, for Elliott to scream, to push him away, to draw a line in the sand and sever what they had. Not because Aiden ever doubted Elliott's feelings— no, Aiden was sure deep down, he knew. But because he feared those feelings would never be strong enough to drown out Elliott's fear, his excuses, his insecurities.
And now— Elliott had said it. Not only felt it. He said it.
When Aiden opened his eyes, the look in them was enough to make Elliott's breath catch. His gaze burned—fierce, unyielding, tender in a way that stripped the air from Elliott's lungs. It was love, unashamed and unrestrained.
Aiden leaned in again. And this time Elliott didn't hesitate. He met him halfway.
The second kiss was different.
It was still tender, but no longer trembling or uncertain. It was surer, deeper, carrying a heat that the first had not dared. Elliott's lips opened under Aiden's, soft and desperate, and Aiden kissed him back with more than longing now. Now, the kiss held a vow, a promise, with a hunger that had been restrained for far too long.
Elliott's tears smeared between them, salty and wet, but Aiden didn't care. He kissed him harder, parting his lips, deepening it, pouring everything he was into the press of mouths. His hand slid into Elliott's hair, tangling in the golden strands, pulling him closer, anchoring him. The other hand stayed at his jaw, thumb stroking reverently, almost worshipfully.
Elliott shuddered in his arms, body pliant, trembling with the force of emotions crashing through him. He gasped into Aiden's mouth, and Aiden swallowed the sound, coaxing him further, lips moving with aching, unrestrained devotion. Their breaths mingled, uneven, hot against damp skin. Elliott yielded completely, his lips parting just enough, his mouth tasting faintly of tears and something so purely him that it made Aiden's head spin.
This wasn't just a kiss. It was a claim. A vow pressed against lips. A promise neither of them could walk back from.
By the time they finally broke apart, they were both breathless, gasping as though they had been starved of air. A thin, wet string of saliva clung between their lips before breaking, and Elliott's face was flushed—bright red, reaching up to the tips of his ears. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes wide, lips swollen, his expression dazed and undone.
Aiden was no better. His own cheeks were flushed, his lips pink from the kiss, his gaze wild with love and disbelief, his breaths harsh and unsteady.
"...What does this make us?" Aiden finally breathed, hushed, like he was half afraid the answer would vanish if spoken too loudly.
Elliott blinked, stunned by the sudden question. For a second, his mind blanked. When he recovered, a soft, broken laugh escaped him—watery, breathless, but genuine. The sound was more beautiful to Aiden than any music the court could ever play.
"I suppose..." Elliott's blush deepened, his gaze lowering shyly before returning to Aiden's. He swallowed, then spoke a single word. "We're... involved."
The word was simple, woefully inadequate for what they were, and yet...it was perfect.
It made Aiden smile. Not his smirk, not his cutting grin, not the mask he wore for the world. But a real smile. Unguarded, lopsided, unpolished...and utterly real.
"Yes," he said softly. "Involved. I like that... for now."
Aiden's gaze sharpened, even as the smile lingered. His expression turned serious, determined. "But you have to promise me something."
Elliott blinked. He nodded wordlessly, waiting.
"Once this war with Cyrus is over— one way or another— we're revisiting this conversation." Aiden's tone was steady, a vow wrapped in gentle command. "We'll hide it until then. For safety. But after that... once it's over, I won't hide. We won't hide. What we have—it's not shameful. It's not something to keep buried in shadows."
His words burned with conviction, not just words but a declaration, a promise of future.
Elliott looked at him— really looked at him. At this fierce, devoted man who loved him so utterly, so unconditionally— and felt the last of his resistance crumble. Normally, he would've thought through every angle: the nobles, the adoption, the politics. But right now, all of that seemed irrelevant. All of it seemed like obstacles to be overcome, not reasons to stop.
"...Okay," he whispered, his voice steady this time. "We will."
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