"Safe"

Panting.

That’s the only thing Dimitri Einhardt, prince of the Lux Kingdom, could hear from behind him as he sprinted through dimly moonlit corridors. The panting, frantic yet hushed, was his sole focus, the only thing keeping him grounded as his footsteps slammed heavily against the carpeted floors and his heartbeat quickened.

Where he was running? He didn’t know. How had he ended up here? He wasn’t totally sure. All he knew was that he needed to escape, and he needed to make sure the boy running behind him, holding his hand with the desperation of keeping him as close as possible, would be safe.

Escape first, keep him safe. Dimitri ordered his priorities in his head. No. Keep him safe first, then figure out my own escape. That seemed better to him.

Thinking of the boy behind him, soft features painted over with fear and confusion, was all he could parce. The sounds of blades clashing against one another, the screams that most likely belonged to innocent servants and unprepared guards, the smell of smoke wafting through the air, and the uncertainty of his own father’s safety clouded his mind.

The castle was supposed to be protected. The guards and knights were supposed to ensure something like this wouldn’t happen. The Einhardt family and all of Lux were supposed to be celebrating the birthday of King Niall Einhardt II the next morning.

All things that were supposed to be, were no longer.

___________________________________

What preceded his current situation seemed innocent enough. It began with a late-night conversation between father and son in the throne room over trivial matters like the day’s training and what would be served at breakfast tomorrow. Dimitri eagerly looked for a way out of the conversation through lulls of laughter or between conversation transitioning from one topic to the next, but his father’s tendency to ramble on and get lost in conversation made it hard for Dimitri to organically walk away. Dimitri would laugh forcedly at something his father said, and, ever the lover of his own musings, his father would chortle and smile from ear to ear, shoulders bouncing over-enthusiastically as he laughed. As much as he loved humouring his father, he knew there were other places he’d rather be at that moment, and he was certain he would get enough of his father tomorrow at his birthday celebration.

As if he didn’t always get too much of his father already, seeing as he was the king and everything.

The towering wooden doors of the throne room flinging open with the utmost urgency seemed to be the perfect accomplice to Dimitri’s escape, but the wounded squire, hobbling into the room with broken armour and blood dripping down his face, made Dimitri freeze in place.

The squire, hunched over and unarmed, entered the throne room with the smell of rusted armour and sweat following as he advanced. “Your highness . . .” the squire breathlessly uttered, “the knights . . . they’ve—”

“Speak well, squire,” King Niall uttered, with simultaneous sophistication and concern, “who has done this to you?” The King began approaching the squire, walking down the wide stone steps leading up to the throne, clad in red carpet lined with gold trimming. The room itself had a haunting glow to it with glass stained windows shining down from behind the throne; the squire’s presence only heightened the already ominous atmosphere captured in moonlight and dark-stained wood.

Dimitri followed behind his father, staring fearfully at the visibly injured person before him. The squire looked to be about his age, if not slightly older, most likely someone who trained at the academy alongside Dimitri without his knowledge.

With his left arm wrapped around his torso in an effort to almost hold himself together, the squire slowly trudged towards the King and Dimitri, and spoke softly. “The knights, sir . . . they’re attacking.”

King Niall furrowed his brow and ran a hand through his short, dirty blond hair. His mouth, decorated with a moustache, curved into a pondering scowl. “An attack? I didn’t order an attack.” The King attempted to dig through his mind, searching for any recollection of some sort of attack. Regardless of whether he orchestrated one, why was it being conducted in the castle? Was there an invasion?

“No, your highness you don’t—” the squire, but a few feet in front of the King, fell to his knees as he began coughing.

First to react, Dimitri rushed forward and knelt to the ground in front of the squire, ever the quickest to come to someone’s aid. He placed a hand gently on the squire’s torso, ensuring to treat him delicately. “Your injuries.” Dimitri said, his words coming out quickly and panicked. “Shall we call for aid? A healer?”

“There’s no time, Prince Dimitri,” the squire responded, a strained smile on his face, “you must . . . you must flee from here.”

Eyes widening, the prince retracted his hand. “What?” he said exasperatedly. Dimitri looked back towards his father, watching him for a reaction. He was only met with his father’s stoic expression. “Father, what could he—”

“The knights, squire,” the King’s voice boomed suddenly, as he made direct eye contact with the squire, “who were the knights attacking?”

With a few pained breaths, the squire looked past Dimitri and into the King’s eyes. “The knights, your highness . . . they were attacking the castle servants and guards.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened. “That . . . that makes no—”

Entranced by the squire’s claim, Dimitri felt his body pushed aside as his father took his place kneeling in front of the injured squire. He stood awkwardly to the side, folding his arms across each other as a way to hold his own composure. The knights. . . attacking? He couldn’t wrap his head around the concept — why would they be doing this? Were they possessed? Charmed? Bribed?

The King gently placed his gloved hands on the shoulders of the cowering squire, who strained through each breath as he listened to his king speak. “Your name, good squire.”

The squire answered through pants. “Barak Vhorgot, your highness.”

“Squire Vhorgot,” the King’s grip on the squire’s shoulders tightened subconsciously, “who was leading the knight’s charge?” As he spoke, the King’s voice remained steady and bold.

The squire, Barak, appeared to willfully keep his eyes from shutting as his breathing became more haggard. “It was . . . it was Commander von Ilvan, sir.” Barak claimed. “I saw him . . . I saw him in front with his bow . . . leading the charge.”

Silence.

No one spoke for what felt like a lifetime as both Dimitri and King Niall absorbed this statement. The air around him suddenly became heavy as Dimitri stomached the squire’s words.

The knights were attacking? The castle? And being led by Commander von Ilvan? None of this made any sense to him.

Dimitri waited for his father to say something — anything. But the King was frozen, eyes glued to the squire as if trying to read him for signs of trickery.

Little to Dimitri’s knowledge, political tensions were building beneath the King’s feet — and, much to his dismay, underneath his very roof. To say he was ignorant of such verbal crimes would be untrue, but the King at least had faith in his own to halt any atrocities.

King Niall was well aware of whispers of a rebellion, someone leaking information to the public and spreading falsities about his personal workings as king. He did little to acknowledge them, as he felt his presence towards his staff, his kingdom, and his allies to be enough justification.

But perhaps he was wrong.

And unfortunately, it seemed the trust he placed and his instinct to ease his suspicions were wrong as well.

King Niall stood, solid and emotionless as hardened stone, and looked beyond the doorway to the throne room and out into the courtyard. It would only be a matter of time.

“Dimitri.” The King said suddenly. His father’s voice cut through the silence like a lance, and Dimitri found himself shaking as he stared at the side of his father’s head.

“Father—”

“Dimitri. You must do as the squire suggests and flee.” King Niall, still focused on the courtyard beyond, was adamant in his claim to his son.

Without thinking, Dimitri moved to face his father. “Flee? What do you mean, I should—”

“No, Dimitri.” His father seemed to know exactly what he was going to say. “You cannot remain here with me. You must go. Now.”

“But, I don’t understand—”

King Niall sighed, speaking under his breath as though he was the only one in the room. “Bless the spirits that inspired your mother to be away from the castle at such a time. I would rather she not be here. I can only hope —”

Feeling his nerves rise throughout his body, Dimitri’s voice bellowed with panic. “What’s happening? Why aren’t the guards doing anything? What is Commander von Ilvan doing he—”

“Dimitri,” the King finally met his son’s gaze, “listen to me. It would be best for you and I if you found a way out of the castle while there’s still time. I will remain here and deal with—”

“Father, no, listen to me!” It was rare for Dimitri to raise his voice, let alone to his father, but the desperation in his plea betrayed any illusions or composure Dimitri hoped to have. “Let me stay. I can help, I can—”

“NO!” His father shouted, startling both Dimitri and Barak, who was still slumped on the floor. “You will not disobey me. Escape from here and seek refuge in a neighbouring town. I’ll have one of the servants come for you once this chaos is over.” Dimitri watched as his father’s hardened expression turned soft, his father peering to the floor before looking deep into Dimitri’s eyes before speaking. “I cannot afford to have you brought into whatever disaster is on its way here. Do you understand?”

Hands trembling, Dimitri looked to his father, no visible sign of trepidation in his words or his posture. King Niall’s face, with his strong jawline, cheekbones, and piercing brown eyes, was not often so easy to read. But here, Dimitri could sense something more, something . . . anxious. His father, ever the just ruler, was still a stubborn man who always put his loved ones first — blood-related and otherwise. So when Dimitri was told to run, and he knew it was because his father wanted to protect him, he knew he had to listen. There was no point arguing with his father — a king to the people he was, yes, but to Dimitri, he was just his father. And even if someone was afraid of disobeying the King, they’d be more afraid of him if he was also your father.

At his father’s request, Dimitri nodded slowly as his father turned his attention back to the open doorway. “Now go, my son.”

Without thinking, Dimitri turned and began running, willing himself to not shed any tears as he departed. Swiftly he darted to the throne room’s east exit, looking back to see the injured squire collapse onto the ground in exhaustion as his father unsheathe his giant sword, with a toughened expression and stance. As he ran further and further, shouts began echoing through the halls as Dimitri ran past old family portraits and heirlooms decorating the halls, stoic faces providing no comfort as he searched within himself for strength. He did his best to ignore any instinct of running back, knowing well that whatever was approaching the throne room would be there shortly.

Thinking as level-headed as he could, he concluded that his best bet for escaping would be through the east tower exit, running past the cathedral and through the farmers’ fields, and into the forest. But Dimitri knew he couldn’t escape so hastily — at least, not alone.

It would require doubling back and going in the wrong direction, but he wouldn’t forgive himself if he were to escape without . . . him.

With his feet seemingly having a mind of their own, Dimitri abruptly halted and turned around down another hallway, his breath catching in his throat as more shouts began echoing throughout the castle. He knew where he had to go, and even though he was told to escape, he would never forgive himself if he left without bringing the person he needed most with him.

In his chest he could feel his heartbeat increasing, the desperation in getting to the library overcoming his need to escape.

___________________________________

To his credit, Leander von Aenille was never one to appreciate crowded spaces. He loved company, sure, but there was something suffocating about having someone breathing down your neck that really turned him off from willingly studying during the busiest hours. So naturally, coming to the library late at night, when all scholars had retired to their chambers and no soul would be caught dead spending an evening thrusted in some ancient text, was ideal.

And that’s what he was doing once again, sitting in his spot right by one of the towering windows, looking out onto the gardens and the knights’ training grounds, with a notebook, some tea, and a fascinating read.

This was where Leander was most comfortable in the castle, despite having lived and celebrated all 18 birthdays here. His family was not of noble birth, of course, but they were employed and worked within the castle, and thus were granted residency and privilege to use castle facilities.

It was a nice life — a life of passivity where guards, servants, diplomats, mages, and guests would come rushing in and out while Leander just went about his day. A life filled with intrigue and mystery at the things that go on when the castle doors are shut. But what might seem exciting to an outsider was truly a “normal” life to him — one, of course, with the awkwardness of growing up, learning your place in the world, and doing your part to aid in the kingdom’s success. Being the son of the castle’s head scholar did come with the expectation of greatness, but Leander felt it necessary to not let such accusations deter his own aspirations and confidence.

Castle living wasn’t lonely, of course, but it did have an isolating feel. It did help having friends within the castle walls.

Friends and, of course, someone much more than that.

But Leander would kick himself if he spent more time thinking about that special someone, given the amount of guff he’d received from his father and other scholars about being distracted from studying and during studying. Which is exactly why he was here this late at night, again, taking notes about an ancient script that he could have done sooner had he not been prompted to abandon his studies.

So Leander would sit here, like he would any night, doing his best to both enjoy the text he’s reading and fly through it as quickly as possible.

I mean, who was he to leave royalty waiting?

___________________________________

“Please be there,” Dimitri muttered under his breath as he continued towards the library. His running had turned into a panicked sprint as Dimitri could see knights through windows that lined the hallway approaching the castle and already moving about within the castle walls. Luckily, he was alone, no sign of anyone around him as he dashed and disrupted the quiet corridors. The only company he had was his own shadow, flickering behind him as he moved in and out of the moon’s gaze. As he approached his destination, his attention shifted to the end of the hall, where he could see a light radiating from around the corner — somebody was definitely in the library.

Lee.

Dimitri turned the corner into the doorway of the castle library, approaching so hastily he almost knocked into the doorframe, and saw his assumptions were correct. As expected, there he was, Leander Von Aenille, sitting beside a moonlit window with his head deep in some text. His shaggy brown hair, parted in the middle and nearly falling in front of his eyes, proved no distraction as his lips, slightly ajar, mouthed along to the text he was reading. This was how Dimitri often found Leander, completely engaged in a fantastical story or some old historical text, completely unaware of the world around him.

But this was no time for either of them to be unaware. They needed to leave. Now.

“Lee!” Dimitri yelled, the franticness in his voice startling him.

Alarmed by the sudden shout, Leander looked up from his book, blinking blearily as he focused away from the small words and onto the figure in the doorway. The emptiness in the library — filled only by Leander and the countless rows of books on bookshelves — only carried Dimitri’s shout louder.

It was quite routine for this exact situation to occur: Leander would have to attend to some studies (despite Dimitri’s protest of wanting to spend time together) and Dimitri would occasionally pop in to “check on him” (distract him), ending in Leander ditching his studies and the two venturing into town or lying amongst the flowers in the castle gardens. And there in the doorway, almost on cue, was Dimitri — but something was . . . different. His blond hair, which was often swept to the side and, in Leander’s eyes, always perfect, was now unkempt and frazzled, which matched Dimitri disposition. He was out of breath, clearly sprinting here from wherever he was in the castle, and Leander could hear the alarm in his voice as he said his name. Leander’s eyes met Dimitri’s, his blue to Dimitri’s hazel, as he searched for some clue into his mind.

Leander shut his book while looking at Dimitri. “Dimitri, what’s wrong—”

“We have to leave, now.” Dimitri made his way over to Leander as Leander stood from his spot beside the window, his grey and white robe falling whimsically in place as he stood.

Puzzled, Leander walked towards Dimitri, subconsciously reaching a hand out to touch him as he approached, “I don’t understand.” Leander had known Dimitri most of his life, and he had never seen him like this before. Even as children when Leander would accompany his father to do his research and see Dimitri from afar, or as they grew older and became more familiar with one another, Leander had never even seen Dimitri so much as panic or shutter.

But this was different. Dimitri looked . . . scared.

Sensing his partner’s anxiousness, Leander placed his left hand on Dimitri’s cheek, attempting to sooth him. As was the case their entire life, Dimitri was a few inches taller than Leander, so Leander was familiar with looking up at him to meet his gaze. “Are you OK? What’s going on.”

The touch of Leander’s hand to his cheek was warm, and filled Dimitri with a familiar sense of comfort. Dimitri placed his own hand atop Leander’s, cupping his own face for a moment as he grabbed Leander’s hand away and lowered it. His own hand was trembling, but holding Leander’s hand in his made him steady. “There’s something going on . . . the knights . . . they’re—”

A bright eruption suddenly shon behind Leander through the window as both boys watched the library fill with ominous, amber light. Dimitri released Leander’s hand as Leander turned towards the window where he was sat, watching as the scholar’s shoulders tensed and his right hand reached to cover his mouth.

“Th-the garden . . .” Leander managed to proclaim shakily. Walking quickly to the window and to his lover’s side, Dimitri peered out the window to the normally serene view, only to see, as Leander had pointed out, the garden — which was now engulfed in flames.

“Who . . . who could’ve done this?” Memories of days spent running through the purple asters as a child, and sneaking off to the rose gardens to lie with Dimitri flooded Leander’s mind as he watched flames light the night sky, smoke wistfully dancing upon starlight to cover the moon’s eyes from the terror.

Dimitri grabbed hold of Leander’s waist with one hand and placed his other hand on his cheek, pulling him out of his hypnotized daze at what Dimitri could imagine as memories now tarnished. “It’s the knights, Lee. They’re . . . rebelling against the castle.”

“The knights?”

Dimitri sighed, unable to accurately express what was happening since, truthfully, he wasn’t sure himself. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, all I know is that the knights have been attacking the guards and are heading to the throne room.”

Leander’s eyes widened, “The throne room? But your father—”

“He’s there.”

“Well, surely we should—”

“No, Lee.” Like Dimitri, Leander’s first instinct was often helping others, even more so than Dimitri since Leander was training to become a healer. While Dimitri was trying to become a protector in his own path of knighthood, Leander was focused on the support, helping those in need with his limited magical capabilities. “My father ordered me to escape.”

“What?” Leander was slowly piecing together what Dimitri was telling him, and yet he still could not fully comprehend why this was happening. Leander could tell as Dimitri spoke the pain he was in, both for leaving his father behind and the reality that the people he looked up to were rebelling. So Leander, not one to disregard a King’s indirect orders, knew they were better off listening.

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time, Lee. We just . . . have to get out of the castle, OK?”

Leander did all he could with this information: nod in agreement, and trust Dimitri.

Screams could be heard outside as the two boys turned their attention back to the smoke-filled sky. “Come on, we have to go.”

As the two exit the library and are about to sprint down the hall, Dimitri suddenly stopped. The sound of rustling metal, followed by the shouts of orders, echoed down the hall as both boys looked at one another.

“Come on, this way.” Dimitri grabbed hold of Leander, placing his left hand in his right, as the two promptly ran the opposite direction of the noise, down towards the ballroom and away from the east tower. If his suspicions were correct, the knights had most likely lit the garden on fire to secure the premises to ensure an unlikely escape, probably moving to do the same with the farmer’s fields. While it was customary in the event of an emergency for families and those not fit for combat to take refuge in the cathedral, Dimitri prayed that they avoided seeking protection there, as it was likely the knights (knowing protocol) would station there.

So here they were now, desperately trying to find a way out, a way to safety. Leander, slowed down by his robe and not as physically fit as Dimitri the trained knight, did his best to keep up, but found himself lagging behind. The only thing keeping him going was his own anxiety and the warmth of Dimitri’s right hand, squeezing every so often for reassurance. Knowing well that Leander would struggle, Dimitri did his best to maintain a fast enough pace that accounted for Leander’s limitations.

“Where should we go?” Leander said as he looked out into the castle grounds once more, only being able to see torches move about and hearing the sounds of fearful screaming.

Not wanting to concern Leander, Dimitri did his best to steady his tone. “It’s pointless now to try going through the fields, the knights have probably begun occupying it. Our best bet is to go out the west tower exit and out toward the docks. Hopefully there’s a boat there we can take.”

It was certainly likely there would be a boat there, but whether or not their pursuers would anticipate an escape by water was unclear. But it was the only lead Dimitri had.

Just as the two were about to turn down a hallway, a group of four knights, clad with armour and armed with swords and axes, turned the corner.

“There!” one of them shouted, as the squad began sprinting down towards the two boys.

“Shit.” Dimitri muttered, watching as the four knights clambered towards them.

Scanning his surroundings as quickly as possible, Dimitri reached for a suit of armour, propped up with a sword in its grasp, and pulled the sword out of its clutches. Seeing as he was dressed in his casual attire, consisting of a light, black jacket with silver detailing, white dress shirt, a silver cape draped only on his left side, tight black pants, and a pair of calf-high boots, Dimitri was without his usual knightly attire and weaponry. Thus, he had no choice but to wield this out-of-practice sword.

Leander, stunned at the appearance of these knights, watched as Dimitri ran forward with no hesitation. “Dimitri?” Leander shouted, frozen in place as Dimitri readied himself for combat.

With the sword’s hilt clasped between his two hands, Dimitri swung as a knight thrusted forward, narrowly missing him with their own sword. As the knight’s sword sliced the air next to Dimitri’s right ear, Dimitri took the opening to slash at the knight’s left side, piercing him right below in the rib cage. The sound of his steel blade hitting the knight’s metal armour made a harrowing clanging sound, as Dimitri could feel the blade pierce through the cheaper material and into the knight’s skin underneath.

Clearly stunned by the quick counter, the knight let out an exasperated yell, visibly pained by the strength behind Dimitri’s blade.

Fighting was nothing new to Dimitri, as someone who trained amongst the knights. Had he known that they would be coming at him in a non-practicing manner was of course new and unexpected, but Dimitri knew he could not falter, could not let pleasantries, gratitude, or memories of the past stop him from piercing a fellow knight with his sword.

Especially if these knights were harming the people he cared about.

Light on his feet, Dimitri pivoted on his right foot to face another incoming knight as his first opponent flung towards the wall beside him, causing a painting to fall off the wall. Rather than a sword, this knight swung a massive, iron axe, clearly heavy enough that the wielder could be heard grunting by its weight.

Placing his sword in front of him, Dimitri blocked the overhead swinging of the axe, feeling the pressure of his attacker and the axe force strain on his knees. Sensing Dimitri’s shock at the impact, the knight reared their axe upward, ready to swing down on Dimitri one more time.

But as Dimitri readied himself to counter, the knight suddenly went flying backwards as a blast of fire knocked him away from Dimitri, the smell of burning metal cutting through the air. Looking over his shoulder, Dimitri watched as Leander, having created a garnet-coloured rune in front of his extended right hand, blasted more flaming orbs towards their attackers, the strain in doing so apparent on his expression.

Beaming with pride, Dimitri rushed forward toward another knight, thankful for Leander providing the support. The prince closed distance with the fellow swordsman, smelling the foul stench of betrayal radiating off of his blade as the two swords collided. Sensing the opponent to strike downward in a similar fashion as before, Dimitri stepped to the side to ready a slashing attack, aiming to pierce the opponent in the leg to knock them off balance.

Distracted by his fight with the swordsman, however, the other knight moved past him at full tilt, the sound of heavy armour clanking as they made their way towards Leander.

Leander, who had been watching Dimitri from afar after blasting the axe wielder away from him, suddenly watched as another axe wielder made their way towards him. Seeing the knight approach at an alarming speed, Leander readied himself for another barrage of flaming orbs, knowing that fighting back was the only way to guarantee his and Dimitri’s escape.

Why were the knights doing this? Was King Niall alright? Leander could not help but have his thoughts wander at the numerous questions occupying his mind.

But combat was no place to be contemplating such matters, and as Leander began to feel his mind drift and fail to notice his orbs missing contact, he promptly felt a large hand, dressed with a gleaming gauntlet, grab him by the collar and slam him into a nearby wall.

“Ngh!” Leander let out a cry as his back made contact with the sturdy oak behind him. The air escaped from his body as he felt his feet unable to touch the ground, the knight hoisting him up in the air against the wall.

Repeatedly, Leander felt his back and head collide with the wall as the knight continued slamming him again and again and again and again.

Helpless as his significantly larger attacker played with him like a doll, Leander could taste blood in his mouth as the initial impact had caused him to bite down on his tongue. He could feel his jaw clench and unclench and his eyes flicker as his head continually made impact, and with both hands attempted to free himself from the knight’s grasp to no avail. The knight, showing no signs of remorse, smirked, as Leander struggled.

Catching sight of Leander being slammed against the wall while fending off the swordsman, Dimitri’s blood began boiling.

“Lee!” His anger kicked in at the sound of Leander hurt, and Dimitri shoved his sword through the chest of his opponent who had been dancing around him in almost choreographed battle. The tip of the sword found its way through the knight’s chest and out their back, causing the knight to let out a painful cry. Wanting to close distance with Leander immediately, Dimitri used his left leg to simultaneously pull the sword from the knight’s chest and kick him to the ground.

“Let go of him!” Dimitri yelled, having slain his opponent and moved towards his next.

The prince ran forward, both hands tightly gripping his sword’s hilt in rage as he held the sword to his left side. The hall around him went dark as Dimitri could only see the opponent in front of him and Leander, powerless and trying to free himself, pinned against the wall, letting out a cough as the knight humoured himself at Leander’s demise.

Turning to face Dimitri as he approached, Leander felt himself drop as the knight released his grip, his legs going weak as he collapsed to the floor with his back against the wall.

Sensing a stronger fighter approach, the knight turned to face Dimitri with their axe, only to feel the sharp pain of a sword slicing their side as Dimitri ran through them with a slash.

"Agh!" the knight cried, feeling a sharpness glide along their exposed torso where the armour failed to cover.

Unable to react at the speed of Dimitri’s assault, the knight, wounded by both the blade and their own cockiness betraying them, fell to their knees, as Dimitri approached from behind, steaming with pure anguish.

“How dare you.”

Dimitri spit his words coldly, taking his sword and plunging it in the back of the knight. With his eyes fixed on watching this knight perish, Dimitri knocked the knight’s body from its knelt position and onto the floor, sword still in their back.

Satisfied, Dimitri spared no time making his way towards Leander, who was still sitting against the wall attempting to catch his breath. Leander, on the other hand, was doing his best to steady his vision, having received several blows to the back of the head.

Attempting to calm his anger as he approached, Dimitri helped Leander to his feet and planted a quick, protective kiss to his forehead, rubbing a supportive hand on the back of Leander’s head. “Are you OK? Do you need time to heal yourself?”

Leander smiled as Dimitri’s lips pressed against his forehead, taking his own hand and feeling the back of his head. Pulling his hand back where he could see, Leander’s eyes widened at the sight of blood on his hand.

“Ah . . .” The magic user let out a soft groan, feeling slightly shaken as he touched the back of his head again, “I uh, I think I’ll be fine. I can just heal myself as we go.”

Dimitri’s eyes widened at the sight of blood on Leander’s hands. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left him back there, Dimitri thought, mentally reprimanding himself for his carelessness in letting Leander get hurt.

“Lee you’re bleeding, we can take a quick second for you to just—”

“No, really, I’m fine.” Wiping the blood off of his hand, Leander grabbed one of Dimitri’s in his. “We really need to get moving, I don’t need to be standing in one place to heal. Trust me.”

He knew this to be true, and he knew Leander was right; they didn’t have time. But the protective side of him really wanted to give Leander the time to properly take care of himself.

Despite his concerns, Dimitri was not one to undermine the strength of his boyfriend, and knew that Leander would be strong enough to continue.

Sighing to himself, Dimitri walked towards one of the fallen knights, picking up their sword from the ground. “You know, I hate that you’re right.” Dimitri examined the blade, knowing it to be better than the one he pulled he hastily pulled from the suit of armour. “Just . . . if you need a moment, just tell me, OK?”

While not the time for any sort of flirtatious exchange, Leander chuckled at Dimitri’s overprotectiveness, walking up to him and kissing him. “Yes, I promise.”

The anger in Dimitri’ stomach dissipated and were replaced by jubilant butterflies as Leander’s lips met his. Dimitri, for the brief closeness, inhaled the smell of Leander’s hair, the smell of flowers filling his senses as thoughts of roses danced around his feverish mind. His eyes shut for a brief moment, as he pictured the various times they had snuck kisses in this very hallway. Though quick and in the grand scheme just like any other kiss, it was enough to calm him down, and he smiled down at Leander. “Sorry, I guess I just forget how actually strong you are with your magic.”

Leander scoffed, doing his best not to roll his eyes. “Yeah yeah, you weren’t so bad there yourself. Now, come on, we need to get out of here.”

Leander extended his hand and was met with the familiarity of Dimitri’s, as the two made their way toward the docks.

___________________________________

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

After traversing through the castle for what felt like an eternity, and doing their best to avoid bloodshed as best they could, the two boys, still hand in hand, were approaching the exit that would take them towards the dock.

Dimitri could tell that Leander was exhausted, the first onslaught followed by a few unavoidable encounters forced him to take an offensive approach, which he knew Leander wasn’t the most familiar with. Dimitri, on the other hand, could feel his own fatigue creeping on, but he knew that he needed to persevere for both of their sake.

Leander turned to Dimitri, who was wielding a bloody sword in his other hand. “Where do you think we’ll go?”

Panting, Dimitri answered between breaths. “There’s a town on the other side of the bay, we can hold out there and rest up before heading out and then gather intel from some of our allies.”

Suddenly, Dimitri felt his head turn at the sound of a shout not too far behind them.

“There they are!” A knight, clad with stronger looking armour and clearly a higher-ranking knight, stood amongst a crowd of roughly 20 knights, all armed with axes, bows, lances, or swords.

Leander turned to Dimitri, concern all over his face.

Dimitri turned his attention back to the pursuers behind them. The squadron of knights was rather large, that was certain. There was no way they could fight them all, let alone in their current condition.

Thinking on his feet, Dimitri dropped his sword and motioned forward. “Let’s go!”

Picking up speed, Dimitri tugged at Leander, as the latter did his best to not trip over his robe. The sword, having served its purpose in protecting them both, clattered to the ground as Dimitri released it, no longer thinking it useful to them.

“Don’t let them get away!” At the higher-ranking knight’s order, the several knights rushed forward, making their way down the hallway and trampling over the sword like a useless object.

Leander could feel anxiety rushing over him. They were so close, and yet, so far from escaping.

Sensing Leander’s hand beginning to tremble, Dimitri attempted to reassure him. “Come on! Just around this corner!”

With hope pushing them forward, the two rounded the corner with the promise of finding the exit towards the dock. What they were met with, however, could only be described as a truly chilling sight.

“Dimitri!” Leander shouted as he looked down at the exit, having glorified in his mind a grandiose passageway that would lead them to safety. What he saw instead, however, was a large crowd, seemingly waiting for their arrival.

Both boys immediately stopped dead in their tracks, as Dimitri scanned the crowd and made direct eye contact with the man leading them.

“von Ilvan . . .” Dimitri spitefully remarked.

“von Ilvan, you mean, Commander von Ilvan?” Though not a knight himself, Leander had known about many of the higher ranking officers thanks to Dimitri and his own presence in the castle. The commander was regarded as an esteemed knight, a war hero who fought alongside the King in many wars and stood tall as one of the King’s round table knights. So why was he, this honorific figure in the Lux Kingdom, now staring down at them, eyeing them with a deathly glare?

Sitting atop a midnight black horse and dressed in the most pristine armour meant only for the highest ranking knights, Commander Cyrus von Ilvan gleefully clapped his hands together, in a condescending celebration of the boy’s efforts. His black hair with a bluish tint, which fell atop his shoulders, swayed as he cocked his head to the side, the crows feet around his eyes and the smile lines on his cheeks highlighted by his imperious smirk.

“Well done getting this far, young prince,” the commander said with not a hint of apprehension, “but unfortunately, this is where your escape ends.”

Dimitri could hear the knights closing in behind them as he stared daggers at the commander.

We were so fucking close. He thought to himself.

Knowing only one other way out of this corridor, the prince pulled Leander through a doorway up ahead and up a stairwell. “Come on!” He yelled with unease in his voice, hearing a faint order by Commander von Ilvan for the knights to follow them as they ascended.

“Dimitri this leads to—”

“I know, Lee,” Dimitri shot back unintentionally harshly, “it’s our only chance right now, we have to take it.”

Leander could feel his breath catching in his throat as the sound of numerous knights behind him grew louder and louder. His own panting, a mixture of exhaustion and fear, did little to distract him from the rustling building up behind them.

The stairwell went on for longer than Dimitri had hoped, but the sight of light peering from underneath an old, wooden doorway led them to believe their ascent was over. Dimitri slammed his shoulder into the door to open it, bursting it with desperation as the two of them exited into the outside.

“This way!” The two boys sprinted across the tower roof, like two silhouettes outlined by the moon peeking over the clouds, sneaking a look. Leander could feel his legs start to give under the weight of his exhaustion and his anxiety, and he suddenly felt his knees hit the floor.

Feeling his arm slump as Leander hit the ground, Dimitri placed a hand gently under Leander’s opposite side and helped him up. “Come on, just a little bit further,” he reassured the boy, and was met with a meek nod as Leander attempted to gather himself once again.

Running to the edge of the rooftop, the two boys, desperate for a way out, were met with a harsh sight below them: water below them, full of rocks that would most likely pierce anything upon impact.

Dimitri and Leander, having spent most of their night running, looked down at their only chance to escape, and knew that their options were limited, if not none. Dimitri looked to Leander, watching the shorter boy breathe heavily at the first chance in a while to catch his breath, and Leander, trying his best not to lose hope, eyed the waves below for any sort of sign.

The waves crashed below them as the moon revealed itself behind the clouds, now completely in sight as both boys stared back at it for answers. The smell of the water below flowed through the air, remaining as a harsh reminder of the rock and a hard place the two of them had found themselves in.

In a panicked voice, Leander looked from their surroundings back to Dimitri. “What do we do? Do we jump?”

“I’m afraid that result would be less than ideal.” A voice transfixed them out of their panic as the commander’s voice, accompanied by the sound of several knights following, made itself known. “It would be near to impossible for anyone to survive a jump this high, let alone one with a landing target decorated with sharp rocks.”

Instinctually, Dimitri pulled Leander to his chest and wrapped his arms around him protectively, both boys staring angrily at the commander. “What do you want, Commander?” Dimitri could feel Leander trembling in his arms, and tightened his hold on him.

Hearing the bite in Dimitri’s words, Commander von Ilvan let out a humoured scoff. “Must we be so harsh with our tone, Prince Dimitri?”

Enraged at the commander’s casualness, Dimitri answered back. “Well forgive me for dropping formalities at a time like this, Commander, seeing as you’ve seemingly put myself, the castle, and its people all in harm's way.”

Commander von Ilvan shrugged, “Well, sometimes, dear prince, to truly get what you want you must knock some people down along the way. And if the thing you want is for the better, well, you’ll do just about anything to achieve it.”

“For the better?” It was as if the commander was toying with him, and Dimitri, emotionally and physically exhausted from the evening, was falling for it easily. “Compromising your morals, your loyalties, is that all for the better?”

At this, Commander von Ilvan smiled sadistically. “Young man, you know not the harsh realities that change your perception on ‘loyalty’, you know only the type of loyalty that renders the soul weak and soft — unfit for the real torment that awaits you.”

Unwilling to listen, Dimitri shook his head as Leander’s heavy breathing silenced the noise around him.“But why, Commander? You have served my father for as long as I’ve been a prince. Your son and I grew up alongside each other, and trained and played like brothers. Your wife was and always will be a close friend of my mother’s. Why, why all of this?”

“Sweet Prince.” Commander von Ilvan closed the space between himself and the two boys, keeping his serene composure, which was somewhat uneasy, as he approached. “Your father did well to shelter you from the realities of torment. Little did you know how long many of us have ached, how these memories and relationships fail to compare to the ever-changing tides of rebellion. To think that we, or rather, I would prohibit myself from seeking my ambition for power and retribution simply out of past pleasantries is soft, at best; if not a complete insult to my reinforced heart as a knight.”

“No part of knighthood would ever compel a man to turn his back on his own kingdom, on his own king, or companion,” Dimitri’s words came out like knives, trying to pierce through the defences that the commander had put up.

But the commander, one with an overconfident air about him and seemingly little attachment to emotions, was putting up impenetrable shields.

“Save your words, boy. You must understand that such companions as your father only destine you for failure.” Commander von Ilvan was now standing directly in front of Dimitri, the air between them tense and heavy. “Your father, he is weak. He is too cautious of his own power and wields it not with the iron fist this kingdom needs. He is simply too. . . ‘safe.’”

“There’s much to be appreciated about ‘safe.’” Leander’s voice suddenly broke through the tension as he barked back at the commander’s claim. Dimitri, shocked to hear Leander sound so aggressive, squeezed Leander reassuringly in his arms.

Turning his attention to the shorter boy, Commander von Ilvan smirked. “Such strong words from but a scholar, don’t you think, young von Aienelle?” The commander neared Leander, raising a hand as if to cup his face.

“Don’t touch him.” Leander and Commander von Ilvan looked at Dimitri, eyes seeming to emit smoke and fire at the sight of the commander coming close to touching Leander.

Commander von Ilvan looked to Dimitri and back to Leander, holding both hands up in defense as he backed away. As he did, more knights began ascending the staircase, with some coming closer to surround Dimitri and Leander.

“So all of this, the raiding of the castle, the slaughtering of the people you’ve spent days and years within these castle walls . . . all of this, for power?” asked Dimitri.

“Power, I suppose, is the most simplistic way to define my motivation. But a simpleminded child like yourself clearly fails to see the necessity of such moves.”

“And my father?”

The commander sighed. “Alive. For now. We’ll see what becomes of him once the townspeople get a say.”

Dimitri furrowed his brow in confusion. “The townspeople? What—”

“You see, I am merely putting your father on . . . trial, let’s say.” Commander von Ilvan paced as he spoke, almost as though thinking aloud as if no one was in the room. “The people of this town require a strong leader — a better leader. And I intend to be the one to give them that.”

“Have you no shame?!” Dimitri yelled. “You would go in front of these people and curse the name of the man who has supported you all for your own selfish wants?”

“As much as it’s for me, it’s also for the people.” In response to Dimitri’s outburst, the commander moved closer, meeting him eye-to-eye merely a few inches from his face. “All those scorn by your father’s poor leadership skills, his failures in claiming more land as a weak ruler. He’s a pitiful example of a king, the townspeople know this to be true.”

“But . . . those statements are all lies!” Dimitri had never heard such atrocities. His father was a beloved ruler, known to frequent the numerous gatherings of the town and invite townspeople into the castle. He was a ruler who led for peace, who put his people and his loved ones before himself. “My father is a grand ruler, he’s kept this kingdom safe for as long as I know. We’ve been to no wars, we thrive in our alliances. What you’re saying are lies, commander!”

At these words, the commander sighed and crossed his arms. “Well that’s the thing about lying, my dear boy. Every lie has some truth in it somewhere, depending on what side of the statement you’re on and who you’re speaking to. To you and those like you, your father’s position as a passive leader in keeping the kingdom to itself and not getting involved with outwardly affairs would agree with you that your father is a just leader and that my statements were lies. But those not privileged enough to see your father’s reluctance to expand the kingdom outward and conquer more land for resources as merely ‘safety’, or acquire more villages and people to recruit as knights, would say otherwise. Saying that your father’s tendency for ‘safe’ is indeed helpful to someone without a roof to live under due to the lack of available jobs in our stagnant kingdom, or people with not a meal to eat due to minimal resources, or a knight who works overtime because of the low quantity of knights and can’t spend time with his family, or people such as myself who have spent their years in anguish over the loss of their loved ones at the expense of heading the King’s call and leaving their families unprotected during invasion. Well, those people would say that your beliefs about your father’s just rule were a lie, and that my stances are true. Would you not agree?”

Leander could feel Dimitri shake at these words. No one had said such things about the King before . . . or at least, not to Leander or Dimitri. To hear such things, Leander could imagine Dimitri was shaken to his core, and Leander could sense Dimitri’s mind racing with the commander’s words.

“No . . .” Dimitri finally said, not knowing how to place anything that was stated in his mind, “these are all—”

The commander scoffed. “Believe what you will, Prince Dimitri. But you will soon see where I am coming from. You will see the townspeople head the call of yours truly and the very knights before you.”

“So you’re using fear to acquire your reign, is that right?” Leander bit back, sensing Dimitri still deep in thought.

At Leander’s call, Commander von Ilvan derided his words. “Fear is such a harsh word. I would rather go with, convince them of things they might have not yet seen.”

“Why you insolent—”

“What do you mean ‘I’ll see’?” Dimitri suddenly spoke up.

Exasperated at the length of this exchange, the commander turned his back towards the boys, signalling for the knights to enclose. “It would do you well to come with me now, young prince. And see for yourself just how the village cowers to the whims of myself and the knights. We are the true rulers of this kingdom, not your shameful excuse of a father.”

Feeling his anger rise again, Dimitri countered. “So what do you want of me, Commander?”

The commander, who had yet to show any signs of weakness in this exchange and with his back still turned, retorted. “Well, you join your father, see what the general public thinks of your families’ reign, and help us decipher what people truly think is best for our kingdom.”

“If I refuse?”

“If you refuse, you give me no choice to end things here,” Commander von Ilvan turned back to look directly at the boys and gestured to the knights around them, “for you and the scholar boy.”

Keep him safe first, then figure out my own escape.

That was the thought that ran through Dimitri’s mind first. At the commander’s claim, Dimitri could feel Leander’s heartbeat increase, beating twice as fast as his own. Both hearts so close together, Dimitri knew what he had to do, knew that he had to stay true to what he believed to be right. There were a lot of things at the moment that Dimitri did not know. He didn’t know the condition of the rest of the castle. He didn’t know whether his father, or even his mother, for that matter, were even actually safe. He didn’t know whether the commander’s claims were lies fed to persuade him, or even how the townspeople might have actually felt behind the royal family’s back.

What he did know, though, was that he needed to keep Leander from harm.

“Well?” The commander stood impatiently, looking to his fellow knights, ready to make the call.

Releasing Leander from his hold, Dimitri turned to face the commander directly and sighed deeply before speaking.

“I will come.”

At once, Commander von Ilvan let out a satisfied sigh knowing well that he had struck a chord that would sway this exchange his way, and, simultaneously, Leander grabbed Dimitri by the arm. “Dimitri, what are you saying, don’t—”

“I have to, Lee. Just, promise me you’ll get out of here—”

Exasperated at the idea of Dimitri giving himself up, Leander protested. “You can’t expect me to—”

“Leander.”

Dimitri cupped his lover’s face in both of his hands, already rubbing away a tear that had escaped from Leander’s eye. “Please, just trust me. I need to make sure that my father’s alright, that you get to be alright.”

Angered at the thought of being left, Leander scoffed. “And you think me letting you get taken like this is going to make me feel ‘alright’? Dimitri you don’t what could happen if—”

“Lee, please,” Dimitri averted his eyes, unable to plunge his heart by looking into Leander’s, “I’m not doing this because I want to, I’m doing it because I have to.”

Leander couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way, after their efforts to escape and their reluctance to stay with the King, that Dimitri would just give up here and now.

“You don’t have to do anything, Dimitri. We can . . . we can figure something out,” Leander then spoke in hushed tones, “we can fight back—”

“Leander, you barely have enough energy to stand, let alone use magic. And I don’t have any weapon on me or protection. We’d be basically sending ourselves to death’s door.”

“Well who’s to say you’re not doing that right now?!” Leander fired back. To his surprise, Leander was not met back with any defenses; rather, it was Dimitri, tears streaming down his face, as he proceeded to cup Leander’s face in his hands once more.

“Please, Lee, I have to do this . . . to make sure my father is alive . . . to keep you . . . to make sure you—”

Dimitri suddenly felt Leander’s lips on his, the shorter boy leaning upward and closing the space between them. Whether Leander was actually healing him with the ounce of magic he had left, or just causing his heartbeat to ease with this kiss was unclear, but Dimitri’s uncertainty of his own fate made him cling to this kiss like no other. He did his best to store all of the details of Leander’s mouth in his mind: the softness of his lips, the taste, the way Leander was a bottom-lip kisser, all of it. It would be one of the thoughts that got him through whatever he was about to face.

Commander von Ilvan watched with a devilish smirk on his face as the two boys pulled away from each other, eyeing Dimitri up and down as he watched the young prince succumb to his emotions. With a flick of a finger, the commander turned on his heels and walked for the exit, as several knights rushed forward to grab Dimitri.

With his hands tightly grabbing Leander,s Dimitri let out a sob as he spoke his goodbye. “I’m so sorry, Lee. Please, just . . . please just be—”

“I think that’s quite enough for a goodbye.” Commander von Ilvan’s voice cut through Dimitri’s as he walked away. “Knights, please bring the young prince with you. Do not let him escape.”

Holding onto Leander’s hands as long as he could, Dimitri felt himself get pulled away by two knights, both much larger than him and protected head to toe. Much like their kiss, Dimitri kept the details of Leander’s touch locked in his mind, feeling his body get dragged away and the distance between the two of them grow further and further.

As their fingertips grazed by each other in a final attempt to hold one another, Leander continued to grasp at the space where Dimitri’s hand once was.

“No . . . no!” A mix of emotions overcame Leander as he shouted in misery. He was heartbroken that Dimitri would give himself up, angry at the commander for putting Dimitri and his family through this for selfish gain, and fearful for what was to come for both Dimitri and himself.

Time seemed to slow around him as Dimitri felt himself get pulled away. He reached back for Leander, who looked at him with hurt in his eyes. It’s for the best. He thought, almost as if trying to convince himself that his actions would produce any sort of positive response. There was no one else on that roof besides them, just Dimitri, yelling and reaching out for his lover, and Leander, silently crying as his body collapsed to the floor.

The slowing of time suddenly continued as Dimitri felt two firm grips wrap around each of his arms, and a rope tied around his wrists keeping his hands restrained behind his back. With but one last glance over his shoulder as the knights directed him into the stairwell, Dimitri gave one last look at Leander, and forced a smile.

“I love you, Lee.”

The realization of Dimitri’s sacrifice became too unbearable for Leander, as Dimitri was pulled away by two knights and disappeared beyond the passageway. Falling to his knees, Leander put all of the power he had left into his words.

“Please! Dimitri! Don’t go! I can’t . . . you can’t just do this!”

Leander’s screams grew more desperate as he watched Dimitri be dragged away. Tears were streaming down his face at a rapid pace, his voice becoming hoarse as his screams seemed to sail into the chilling night sky and disappear into nothing. It was as though the world around him had stopped, and all he could see was Dimitri, spirits visibly weakened, being guided away by the very figures that sought to train and protect him.

His focus on the prince’s back, turning the corner and down into the narrow stairway, distracted him enough that he failed to realize he was still surrounded by knights.

With a smirk, the knight standing behind Leander turned to another, knowing well that they would head no promise from a worthless prince.

“Knock him out.”

That was the last thing Leander heard as his screaming stopped, as a blunt object struck him in the side of the head.

With only Dimitri on his mind, everything around Leander went dark.

And unable to look back, Dimitri walked away with his hands tied around his back, two knights guiding him along to the unknown, and tears streaming down his face, knowing fully that whatever befalls him will be worth it.

So long as Leander was safe.