The mont they entered the garden, Ren walked toward the field of red roses like a magnet drawn to the one thing he could never stay away from.
Zayden folded his arms, watching Ren’s back as he bent down slightly to inhale the flowers’ scent.
"They are always so fresh," Ren murmured, gently caressing the petals of one of the roses.
"Is that so?" Zayden stepped closer, slipping his arms around Ren’s waist from behind.
Ren flinched at the sudden gesture. He turned, looking up at Zayden, whose face was now incredibly close to his.
"W-What are you doing?" he stamred, his gaze darting around, terrified soone might see them like this.
"Why? You don’t want people to know about our relationship? Are you using ?" Zayden asked, his grip tightening.
"Of course not. It’s not like that," Ren murmured, trying to free himself from the embrace. His heart hamred painfully against his chest, the feeling almost overwhelming.
"Then what is it?" Zayden pressed.
Ren turned slightly, but the General caught his cheek with one hand, the other still firm around his waist. Before Ren could react, Zayden leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
Ren jolted. Heat rushed up his neck, his face burning red. He quickly pulled himself out of Zayden’s arms, breath uneven.
Zayden blinked, eyes widening.
"Why are you looking at like that?" Ren asked, avoiding his gaze.
"You are strong..."
"You trained , rember?" Ren tried to laugh, but it ca out thin.
"No—" Zayden stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I an, if you are that strong, why didn’t you break free earlier when you told to let go? Don’t tell you actually like it, and only pretend you don’t." His smile curved—knowing, teasing, far too confident.
The tips of Ren’s ears reddened even more. He turned away sharply.
"You may think whatever you want."
A long silence settled between them. The breeze outside slamd against the windows, stirring the snow. White flakes scattered across the path like grains of silver sand falling.
"What did you dream about?" Ren finally asked, breaking the stillness in the room.
Zayden’s shoulders stiffened at once. He stepped back, gaze shifting away.
"Nothing."
Ren narrowed his eyes at the strange reaction. When he turned to look at Zayden, he found the General facing away from him, hands reaching toward the white lilies across the path.
"Really?"
"Really," Zayden lied, his fists clenching around nothing.
It was after a long ti that those nightmares returned to haunt him. They hadn’t resurfaced ever since he had co into contact with Ren. It was as if he found solace in his touch—an unspoken comfort that held the darkness at bay.
However, peace never lasted in his life, did it?
"If you don’t want to tell , it’s alright," Ren said softly, now standing beside Zayden.
The other man smiled faintly, his hand rising to gently caress the oga’s silver strands.
"You have pretty hair."
Ren stared at him in disbelief. Was this really the mont to bring that up?
But it didn’t take long for him to realize Zayden was doing everything he could to avoid the subject of his dream. So Ren decided to let it slide.
For now.
"By the way," he began, lowering his head slightly.
"Hm?" Zayden tilted the oga’s face up, his thumb pressing gently against Ren’s chin.
Ren blinked, his gaze shifting away before he finally spoke.
"Yusha—"
"Why are you talking about another man in my presence?" Zayden asked, leaning closer, their noses almost touching.
Ren shook his head, a sigh escaping his lips.
"Because he is my friend," he said firmly. "Are you going to be mad because I have friends?" His tone was unwavering.
Zayden chuckled, pulling back slightly.
"Of course not. But what about him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I’m not even sure I’m supposed to tell you this..." Ren exhaled, pausing for a mont before continuing. "He is pregnant."
Zayden’s eyes widened. Then a smile slowly ford on his lips.
"Oh! That’s great news! But why do you look so worried?" His hands reached for the silver-haired man’s pale cheeks, thumbs brushing softly.
Ren looked away, then shifted his gaze back to Zayden, locking eyes.
"Well... the father is Lord Liam."
***
Dreams were often said to be an escape—a place where the mind could drift when reality beca too harsh, too cruel.
But what was soone supposed to do when those dreams were the very things that hunted down their peace?
Enzo curled into a ball on his bed, his cheek resting against his knees as he blankly stared at the door. The maid assigned to care for him nervously asked if he wanted breakfast, but he didn’t answer.
"You can call by pulling the bell if you need sothing," she said softly, bowing before stepping out of the room.
The oga was too lost in his haze to move, not even reacting when the door opened and the woman slipped out, closing it gently behind her.
He stepped on his right foot, and he didn’t realize when his left leg followed. It didn’t take him long to crumble on the ground, the soft carpet brushing against his skin.
He lay there, unable to stand. Rather, he didn’t even want to try.
A tremor ran through his fingers as he pressed his palms weakly against the carpet, attempting to stand.
His arms shook violently, refusing to obey. His leg remained limp—as if it belonged to soone else entirely.
Anyone but him.
A bitter laugh escaped him, dry and cracked.
He couldn’t even do this.
His throat tightened, his jaw clenching as he forced back the tears threatening to fall.
How humiliating.
Of course, this would happen. Of course, his body would betray him again—right when he needed it the most.
What use did he have like this? Wasn’t that why his father abandoned him? Perhaps that man already knew what could happen if he broke the bond.
He curled in on himself, struggling to bring his legs close to him. His nails sank into his sleeves, slowly reaching his skin, crimson blood staining his thin white shirt.
The frustration burned more painfully than any wound.
He couldn’t walk.
He couldn’t stand.
He couldn’t do anything.
A wave of helplessness washed over him, suffocating him.
Was he supposed to depend on soone for the rest of his life now?
For the first ti since waking that morning, he whispered the thought he had been avoiding.
I’m... useless now, aren’t I?
The tears he had been holding back finally spilled over, flowing like a river breaking free after a long winter.
But nothing about this felt warm like spring.
It was cold—freezing.
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