(POV: Kael — Third Person Limited)The soft click of the chamber door stirred Kael from a hazy nap.He didn’t open his eyes, not yet. The scent was already there — that deep cedar and frostbite scent that always wrapped around his bones like safety.Alaric.Footsteps padded closer.Kael blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim candlelight. The Alpha stood at the edge of the room, tall and unspeakably tired, as if every mask he'd worn in public had been carved into his skin.Kael sat up on the bed, his blanket slipping down, revealing the gentle swell of his belly. “Hey,” he said, voice still heavy with sleep.Alaric didn’t answer. Not immediately.He just walked forward.Each step was reverent. Slow. Silent.And then—he dropped to his knees.Right there beside the bed.His hands didn’t touch Kael. Not yet. They trembled slightly where they hovered over Kael’s knees. He looked up with eyes that gleamed like dusk — not royal, not dominant, just his.“I missed you,” Alaric breathed.Kael’s t
POV: Alaric (Third Person Limited)The council chamber was too bright for Alaric’s liking.Golden sconces glowed against polished walls, bouncing light off portraits of kings past—men who’d worn this same crown with smug smiles and bloodstained hands. Alaric sat at the head of the table, not a wrinkle in sight, not a shadow in his posture. But his jaw ached from how tightly he held his expression in place.Around the table, nobles muttered in hushed tones while servants poured wine and adjusted scrolls.“The Solaran dukes arrived last night,” one advisor said. “They ask to meet before the Moonlight Ceremony.”“Give them tomorrow morning,” Alaric replied smoothly. “Not a moment before.”An elder with silver-threaded robes cleared his throat. “And… your Highness, may we inquire—how fares Her Grace’s condition?”The room stilled.They were asking about Amora. About the pregnancy.Alaric’s fingers curled beneath the table. “She’s resting. The healers are cautious, but optimistic.”“So it’
(POV: Alaric (Third Person Limited)The sound of distant horns still echoed in the halls long after the nobles from Solara had arrived.Alaric remained by the stained-glass window of the eastern wing, staring blankly at the gilded carriages unloading silk-draped guests onto the palace steps. His arms were crossed over his chest, posture rigid, breath tight. From this distance, they all looked like puppets—dancing, preening, waiting to flatter.It wasn’t the guests that bothered him.It was who he had to become the moment he stepped into that throne room.“Your Highness,” came the voice of the steward behind him, polite but cautious. “They’re ready.”Of course they were.Alaric gave a small nod, adjusted the silver sash across his chest, and headed toward the Hall of Thrones. The throne room shimmered in soft gold and crimson. Incense burned faintly from the iron sconces, and noble voices hummed beneath the formal hush of protocol. They all rose the moment Alaric stepped in.He didn’t
(POV: Kael (Third Person Limited)The palace never slept at all really but today it boasts it a bit more. Kael woke at the sound of footsteps in the far corridors, the beating of tapestries, the rhythm of cart-wheels brought laden with rolls of material and rolled banners. His room was filled with pale gold li light which was warm and warm through the tall windows, with the scent of fresh paint and flowering trees and, somehow, of ritual.He rose gradually, and smoothed a palm down the side of his belly. Still sore in places. Still tender where stitches held old pain together.But outside, the world seemed determined to move on.Wrapped in a soft tunic the color of clouds, Kael padded barefoot to the balcony. The view opened up like a painting — the central courtyard now alive with movement. Servants and decorators crisscrossed with purpose. Long strips of silk in silver, blood-red, and moonlight blue were draped along balconies and walls. The marble fountain in the center gleamed, n
(Third Person Limited – Kael’s POV)By the time Kael emerged from Grandma’s inner chamber, a neat pouch of herbs and warm cinnamon bread in hand, the candlelight in the sitting room had deepened to amber.Alaric and Aaron were sitting across from each other in stiff silence, the kind that only existed when neither was in the mood to bicker—but the tension still hummed.Kael stepped between them, eyes distant, and murmured, “Let’s go back.”Alaric was on his feet in a flash. “Are you okay?”Kael nodded, too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”But Alaric wasn’t convinced. Neither was Aaron.They didn’t press.As they walked the quiet halls back toward their shared chamber, Kael’s steps slowed more than once. He wasn’t limping—just… dragging. Not his feet. His spirit.Aaron reached out instinctively to touch Kael’s shoulder. “Do you want to lie down?”“No,” Kael said gently, then looked up between the two Alphas. “Could we… go to the bath?”Alaric raised a brow. “The steaming one?”Kael nodded.
(Third Person Limited – Kael’s POV)The sound of falling water was a lullaby Kael could never forget.He sat on a soft blanket spread across the grass, surrounded by fruit slices, grilled meat, bread, and a jug of honeyed tea Alaric had insisted on bringing himself. A breeze swept through the clearing, brushing over Kael’s cheeks like a secret, sweet and fleeting.The waterfall spilled into the lagoon below, crashing gently over smooth stone. Trees arched protectively overhead, dappling the sun into pieces of gold. And just a few feet away, Aaron lay sprawled shirtless in the grass like a napping feline, a wildflower tucked behind one ear.Kael popped a piece of fruit into his mouth and nudged Alaric beside him. “Are you going to eat anything, or are you just going to stare at me like I’m the dessert?”Alaric leaned over, kissed Kael’s cheek slowly. “You are the dessert.”Kael rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. “You’re ridiculous.”Aaron yawned, stretching lazily as he turned onto his side