When Ren’s voice was no longer audible, Zayden finally stopped throwing whatever he could get his hands on. It was his desperate attempt to make the oga’s voice inaudible.
His chest heaved violently as he stood amidst the wreckage, the room torn apart around him. His breathing ca uneven, ragged, as though each inhale scraped against sothing broken inside him. Tears gathered in his blood-red eyes, blurring his vision—but he refused to let them fall.
How could he...?
How could Ren deceive him like this?
No.
His head snapped down in a sharp shake, as if trying to force the thought away. It was his fault. His fault for being deceived in the first place, for letting his guard slip even for a mont when he had sworn he never would. His fault for trusting a stranger. For giving an oga his heart. For forgetting what he had promised himself long ago—never to trust a human again.
Just then, a small, quiet voice called out to him. Zayden turned. The boy who didn’t even reach his shoulders stood there. The child Ren had claid was his.
Was that a lie too?
His mind tightened with unanswered questions, each one pressing harder than the last. Questions only Ren could answer—but Zayden refused to see him. Refused to look at the face of a traitor.
His throat tightened painfully as he swallowed, the muscles in his neck visible.
"What brings you here?" he asked. His voice was calm. Too calm. Carefully softened, shaped into sothing gentle, sothing familiar. Sothing that didn’t match the chaos tearing through him inside.
"I was looking for Papa. Why isn’t he in his room?" Eiran frowned, confusion clouding his small face.
"He will be sleeping elsewhere tonight," Zayden replied imdiately, the lie sliding out too smoothly. He forced a faint smile. "He insisted on helping the servants, even though I forbade him."
"And the room...?" the child asked hesitantly, turning his head left and right, showing what was going on in his mind without Zayden having to ask.
Zayden’s smile widened just slightly as he turned his gaze toward the ss around them.
"Oh, that?" he said lightly, pointing toward the open windows, where the curtains billowed in the wind and rain spilled across the floor. "It’s just the wind. There is one terrible storm going on outside." He stepped closer, carefully lifting Eiran into his arms.
"Let’s return to your bedchambers. This room isn’t fit for you to sleep in."
Normally, Eiran would have protested or struggled to be put down. But tonight, he was too tired. Too tired. Too unaware of the truth hidden beneath Zayden’s smiling face. He simply leaned his head against his dad’s shoulder, his breathing evening out as sleep slowly pulled him under.
And Zayden held him a little tighter than necessary. Not because he was comforting him. But because, for a mont, it was the only thing keeping his hands from shaking apart.
***
And even the darkest nights were bound to co to an end.
Zayden slowly awoke on a soft mattress that was not his own, the unfamiliar comfort pulling him out of a restless, fragnted sleep. For a mont, he simply lay there, unmoving, as if his body had not yet decided whether it wanted to return to reality.
The reality that has shattered his perfect little world.
Still, he forced his eyes open. Beside him, Eiran was still asleep, breathing softly, his small fra curled in a way that looked peaceful and fragile at the sa ti. The sight should have eased sothing in him, but it didn’t.
Zayden’s gaze lingered for a mont before drifting lower, settling on the child’s arm. A clean bandage wrapped around it, carefully done. Ren had been the one to apply it, saying it would prevent unwanted attention from the nobles and keep questions away. He had even reassured Eiran several tis before bringing him to the capital, speaking gently, calmly, as though nothing was wrong at all.
As though everything was still alright although his child’s arm turned into that of a dragon’s.
But only Zayden knew of the oga’s worries. The nights he had spent reading books just to find a cure for his son.
"If only we hadn’t co here..." Zayden muttered under his breath. The words left him shocked. He imdiately bit down on his lip, hard enough that pain blood and blood welled at the edge. But even that wasn’t enough to ground him.
A small, strained breath escaped him as he stared ahead.
Did he just wish he had never learned the truth about Ren?
The thought felt wrong the mont it ford, almost cowardly. A bitter feeling rose in his chest as he realized what he was thinking. He had always been suspicious of Ren, had always kept so distance, had always told himself not to trust so easily again.
So why did it feel like none of that mattered now?
Why did his chest feel so tight it hurt to breathe, as if sothing inside him had been crushed and left there, stinging relentlessly?
He lowered his hand to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric as though he could hold himself together through sheer force alone.
It was not just anger. It was not just betrayal either.
It was sothing deeper, more suffocating, sothing he could not na without feeling like it would make it real.
And in that silence, with Eiran sleeping peacefully beside him, Zayden understood that knowing the truth had not brought clarity. It had only made everything heavier than he could carry. Maybe if last night he hadn’t listened to Zion...
"Ugh!" He groaned, sprinting to his feet. His breath ca out ragged, heavy and uneven. He didn’t know what to do to stop these thoughts.
There was no if this, if that. Not anymore.
Everything ended last night.
Everything?...
Zayden frowned.
And what exactly is everything?...
His heart sank.
"Papa...? Is that you...?" Eiran sat on the bed, his eyes still closed. Slowly, he began rubbing one of his eyes to clear his vision.
Zayden imdiately stiffened. What was he supposed to tell Eiran? Surely, just like last night, he would ask for his papa again...
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