Cherion's mind struggled to catch up with what his eyes already knew.
The man from the garden. The one who was coughing against the wall as if he were about to pass out. The one who he fussed over like a controlling aunt and led to a bench.
That man was Alpha Zarius Valtrane.
How could he have been so stupid?
He was supposed to be the one who knew how everything would turn out, but he hadn't recognized him until now.
In his defense, the first time he had seen Zarius, the man had been doubled over in a rosebush, coughing up his lungs like someone's grandfather.
Not exactly the terrifying, enormous figure depicted in the book. What kind of villain introduction was that? He'd been too distracted thinking, Is he dying? Should I fetch water? instead of, Ah yes, here stands my future husband, also the central figure of impending doom.
It was almost insulting.
Because how was this the same Alpha, the war hero everyone worshipped, when Cherion had literally just seen him hacking up a lung into the rosebushes?
As Zarius walked toward the throne, Cherion pressed his lips together, suppressing a groan. His walk was steady, posture perfect, if you ignored the tightness around his mouth and how pale he looked under those gold eyes. He most likely still appeared to others as the legend they had heard so much about.
Cherion still thought of him as a man in need of a blanket and some hot soup.
With a steady but somewhat harsh voice, Zarius paused in front of the throne and bowed.
"Your Majesty. It is an honor to stand once more in your hall."
Wearing a deep crimson robe, the King looked at him as if he was trying not to squint too much. His voice echoed through the room as he leaned forward on his throne, his eyes narrowing.
"Alpha Zarius, you honor us with your presence. Yet... " his voice became softer and more fatherly, "... you don't look well. The battles have taken their toll," the King said. "You should let the physician examine you."
There was silence in the room. Some nobles whispered behind their hands as they shifted in their places. Cherion caught the words 'curse' and 'unfit' passed like sparks along dry grass.
Zarius straightened. "There is no need. I am capable of doing what is required of me."
Cherion nearly rolled his eyes. Yes, of course. Mighty Alpha. Who needs lungs, anyway?
He glanced around. The advisors' faces said what no one dared voice, surprise, perhaps even unease, to see the man they once hailed as invincible reduced to something as ordinary as illness. And wasn't that the strangest thing? To them, Zarius being sick was more scandalous than him killing men in war.
The King let out a long breath and shifted back on his throne. "Very well. Then let's talk about what unites us today."
Cherion felt his stomach turn. He knew what was coming next, and it didn't help. The King's gaze drifted until it landed squarely on him.
"And here is the one who will stand with you," the King continued. "Cherion, come on over here."
Oh shit.
Before his mind could protest, Cherion's legs obeyed. Cherion took a step forward, his footsteps echoing far too loudly. Zarius didn't even glance his way, which was somehow both a relief and an insult. It was both a relief and an insult that Zarius didn't even look in his direction. Cherion briefly thought about fainting to create a scene, but he decided against it because it was probably too early in their marriage for that.
He paused a step behind Zarius so that he could feel the shadow of the man looming over him. His awkward half-hiding clearly amused the King, who laughed. "Boy, don't be shy. Stand next to your future husband."
Gah, please no!
Sir. Your Majesty. With respect. Absolutely don't call me that.
He wanted to crawl under the throne and never come out again. Rather, he walked and stood beside the mighty Alpha. The difference in height was laughable. If Zarius was a mountain, Cherion was the awkward grass at its base. He tried to stand straighter, to at least resemble a half-decent companion, but the effort only made his shoulders ache.
The King's next words hardly registered on his mind. Something about obligation, about harmony between the North and the empire. Cherion caught every third phrase at best. His own mind supplied the commentary instead. Isn't this what any transmigrator wants? March off with a coughing war hero. My whole life's just been one bad draw after another, hasn't it?
When the formalities finally wound down, he thought his ears might ring from the strain of pretending to listen.
"And so, the two of you are a match made in heaven," the King said, his voice growing as if he were proclaiming the start of a new golden age.
Cherion smiled. He even dipped his head in what he hoped passed for a shy nod of agreement. But inside, every nerve in his body screamed.
A perfect match? Match made in heaven? He wanted to laugh, or maybe scream, or maybe both at once.
More like a match made in madness. What part of this looks like heaven?
That night, the palace was quiet. Cherion slipped out to his balcony, pressing his hands to the cool railing. The night air bit at his skin but in a strangely comforting way. He leaned forward, breathing deep, letting the silence stretch.
Tomorrow.
He would leave tomorrow, headed north to a husband he hardly knew. A man who carried himself like a living legend but coughed like a dying poet.
Cherion chuckled sharply to himself. "It's perfect, really."
He tilted his head back, allowing the stars above him to become hazy. He knew the general plot of this story because he had read it before. Living inside it, however, was a completely different story.
"Well, at least Yerel and Philia won't be there," he muttered as he massaged his temple. "Small blessings."
Then he felt a prickly sensation. Someone else was there.
He looked over and saw him.
With his hands resting on his own railing, Zarius stood just a few feet away on the opposite balcony. His dark hair was silvered by the moonlight, which also softened the harsh lines on his face. He appeared more like a quiet normal man caught in the same night than the intimidating Alpha of legend.
They were silent for a moment.
Cherion's heart began to pound. The first thought that shot through his head was stupid... Well, at least he doesn't look like he's dying this second.
Yeah, why is that?
At last, Zarius turned, and those piercing golden eyes found him. Cherion's mind went blank in an instant.
It was just the two of them standing there in the moonlight, trapped in that strange silence.
And neither looked away.