The throne room gleamed with marble and gold, but tension thickened the air like smoke.
Victor knelt, posture rigid, eyes fixed on the red carpet stretching up to the imperial dais. Duke Aaron stood beside him, tall, composed, face carved from the same cold stone as the pillars lining the room.Emperor Melikor leaned forward on his throne, crown casting shadow over his brow. “The Dark Forest festers with beasts,” he said, each word deliberate. “We’ve lost a dozen patrols in a month. The southern provinces are vulnerable. We cannot allow it to spread.”Victor’s voice was curt. “Then send me. I’ll burn them to ash.”The Emperor’s eyes flicked to Aaron. “You’ll go, with the Duke. This requires more than brute strength. Command, composure… clarity.”Victor didn’t so much as glance at Aaron. “As His Majesty commands.”Aaron bowed low. “We’ll leave by dawn.”His tone was formal, but clipped, brisk, distant. The two men turnedThe poison was gone. Burned out of his blood, purged by magic and madness alike.Victor stood still,.sweat clinging to his bare skin, breath ragged, heart loud. The taste of power still crackled in his veins. But for once, it wasn’t rage that consumed him. It was clarity.Aaron lay beneath him, naked, marked, kissed raw. His violet eyes, usually guarded, were wide open. Staring not at the Hero. Not at the Villain. But at him.At Victor.“I never wanted to hurt you,” Victor whispered. His voice shook, hoarse from hours of growled hunger and broken restraint. “Not as the Hero. Not as the monster in the dark. I just-” he stopped. “I wanted you to see me.”Aaron reached up, fingertips brushing Victor’s jaw. His hand trembled, not from fear, but from how much he felt.“I always saw you,” he said quietly. “You’re the only one who ever looked back.”Victor’s breath hitched. He lowered himself again, their foreheads pressed together. Thei
Victor stayed crouched, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat clinging to his chest. His cock twitched again, still half-hard, streaked with the remnants of his release.Aaron watched him from where he stood, wiping the blood and seed from his glove with quiet precision. But there was a pause in the way he moved.A silence.A shift.Victor looked up.And Aaron, finally, looked back.Not at the Hero.But at the Villain.“…It’s you,” Aaron said softly.Victor’s lips curled. “Took you long enough.”Aaron didn’t flinch. “That thing inside you. It wasn’t new.”Victor rose slowly, step by step. His muscles rippled, drenched in shadow and moonlight. “No. It was never separate from me. The magic just… gave it form.”Aaron’s breath caught.Victor stepped forward, slick fingers reaching for Aaron’s throat, not to choke, but to hold. “You never let me touch you like this before.”
Inside the cave, the storm raged harder.Rain drummed against the rocks like war drums. Lightning tore across the sky, flashing against the wet stone walls. The smell of blood clung to Victor’s body, his own.He leaned back against the cave wall, legs splayed, his shirt discarded, drenched in sweat. The poison wasn’t killing him, it was changing him. His heart thundered in his chest like a beast trying to break free.Aaron crouched beside him, hands gloved and steady as he poured another splash of water over the gash along Victor’s arm. “The swelling is getting worse,” he muttered. “You need to focus. Control your breathing.”But Victor wasn’t listening. Not to the words.He was watching Aaron’s throat move as he spoke. Watching the way his wet hair clung to his jaw. That perfect, cold face, always looking away. Never once seeing him.Victor’s hand twitched. The fire in his veins crawled beneath his skin, sparking with hunger. “Aaron…
The throne room gleamed with marble and gold, but tension thickened the air like smoke.Victor knelt, posture rigid, eyes fixed on the red carpet stretching up to the imperial dais. Duke Aaron stood beside him, tall, composed, face carved from the same cold stone as the pillars lining the room.Emperor Melikor leaned forward on his throne, crown casting shadow over his brow. “The Dark Forest festers with beasts,” he said, each word deliberate. “We’ve lost a dozen patrols in a month. The southern provinces are vulnerable. We cannot allow it to spread.”Victor’s voice was curt. “Then send me. I’ll burn them to ash.”The Emperor’s eyes flicked to Aaron. “You’ll go, with the Duke. This requires more than brute strength. Command, composure… clarity.”Victor didn’t so much as glance at Aaron. “As His Majesty commands.”Aaron bowed low. “We’ll leave by dawn.”His tone was formal, but clipped, brisk, distant. The two men turned
The nights bled into one another, moonlight washing over marble as the Villain crept into the Duke's bedchamber.At first, Aaron fought.The first night, he turned away, silent and stiff under the sheets. The Villain said nothing, only pressing a gloved hand over Aaron's mouth while the other slipped beneath the silken hem of his nightshirt. Aaron clawed at his arm. Bit his lip to keep from making a sound. But by dawn, his body betrayed him, trembling, open, aching in places he never thought he’d allow another man to touch.The second night, he glared. "Don’t come back."The Villain only pressed his lips to Aaron’s temple, whispering, "You’ll wait for me."He was right.A week passed, and Aaron no longer locked the window. No longer kept a blade beneath his pillow.Victor, hidden behind the black cloth mask and twin daggers tucked into his belt, slipped through the balcony each time. Unannounced. Uninvited. But expected.
In the weeks that followed, Aaron began to notice a strange and troubling pattern.It started subtly. A visiting noble’s favored knight who once emerged from Aaron’s chamber never made it home. A young captain assigned to Aaron’s guard rotation was ambushed on his return ride. Another, one of the more brazen, who had stayed in Aaron’s bed for two nights straight, simply vanished. No trace. No explanation.By the fourth incident, the palace hushed with rumors.Those who entered the Duke’s chambers at night never returned.Aaron didn’t believe it at first. Refused to. But then, after an evening spent sipping wine with a knight from the Western border, he awoke to blood on the tiles outside his chamber. The man’s ring, his family crest, lay in the fountain.After that, no one dared come close. Not out of respect. Out of fear.Victor, ever silent, ever watchful, stood on the sidelines like the perfect Hero. Cold, composed, focused. B