A story about a prince and his pretty consort presumptive.
Crown Prince Raffe, as the only son of High King Alizade and sole heir to the High Throne of the Ruemri Empire, is bound to fulfill one important duty for the crown. Even if that duty involv...
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SOREN, with every sliver of strength that he could muster, fought back.
He scratched. He pulled. He bit. He clawed every skin that he could reach. He will not make this easier for his rapist despite him not being able to use ena.
"You've only gone a few hours and this shit happens."
That too-familiar voice brought back clarity Soren hadn't thought he needed. He snapped his wet eyes open just in time to see his assailant's head on top of him fall down on the ground with a silent thud.
Then there was the metallic scent of blood all over Soren's torso, his arms, his fingers, his face. The horrendous amount of it shook him to his core. But it was all swept away when the relief of seeing that familiar black wavy curls and gray eyes warmed him from the inside out.
The High King stood over him, wearing a black cloak that covered him from head to toe, his sword dripping with blood. Raffe grabbed the man's headless body and kicked it on the side, then looked at Soren critically.
"You're a fucking mess."
There was a gravid pause, and both of them just looked at each other in the eyes.
Talking, but not really doing it.
Relieved, but neither was saying it.
It took a second, a minute, almost forever to take in what just happened, and then Soren let out a strangled laugh—too tired and too comforted to say anything else. He grabbed the tip of Raffe's cloak, feeling the warmth of it travel to his shaking fingertips.
It felt like water in the desert.
He was so in love with the man the mere sight of him brought him comfort no one else had before. And that got him smiling—a real, genuine smile despite the suffering that he'd been through these past few months.
He must be mad, Soren thought.
"Do you really think it was that easy to get away from me?" Raffe said, his voice sounding so rough as he bent over and scooped Soren up and carried him to his arms. "Smiling won't get you anywhere."
He is mad, Soren conceded, as he breathed Raffe's familiar scent. It brought him comfort. It brought him home. It bought him every little good thing he knew.
"I told you before, didn't I? You won't get rid of me that easily, nitwit."
Hearing that silly word after so long made Soren's heart flutter, and tears started to betray him again. "I wasn't trying to rid of you. But your timing was impeccable, Your Majesty," he whispered, clutching at Raffe's neck and still ignoring the pounding on his head.
