Riven woke up slowly, blinking against the sunlight peeking through the heavy curtains. The sheets were warm, soft, and slled faintly of Soren—frosty clean like winter and pine needles—but the bed was... Empty.
Again.
He frowned, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. "Oh, co on," he muttered, throwing an arm over his face. "Why does everyone always leave first thing in the morning?"
He pouted for a mont, letting the quiet of the room settle in.
This wasn’t the first ti, either. Ronan used to do the sa thing—disappear at dawn, saying sothing vague like "important clan matters".
And now Soren too? Riven was starting to feel like he was cursed to wake up alone forever.
Still, he supposed he couldn’t be too mad. Soren had told him he had things to handle today. And knowing Soren, those "things" probably involved violence, intimidation, and possibly burying a body. All for Riven’s sake, of course. Romantic, in a twisted way.
"Guess murder before breakfast is his love language," Riven muttered, pushing the blankets aside and shuffling to the edge of the bed.
He yawned, stretched like a sleepy cat, and went about freshening up. No use sulking all morning. If Soren was busy eliminating threats, then fine—Riven could entertain himself.
After brushing his hair and slipping into sothing casual but cute, a soft, oversized sweater that fell just past his thighs and made him feel cosy and adorable-- He felt more bunny than wolf in that outfit, but it was super comfortable, he wandered out into the hallway, aimlessly following the sound of faint voices below.
He ended up leaning over the second-floor railing, peering into the mansion’s grand living room. It was a wide, open space with tall windows, sun streaming through and catching dust motes in the air. Down below, a group of employees were gathered around soone, discussing sothing that sounded very serious.
Riven squinted, trying to hear, but it was mostly boring logistics talk. Sothing about supply chains and patrol routes and "making sure the west path is secured."
Yawn.
He was about to walk away when his eyes landed on him.
Xavier.
Tall. Broad. His muscles flexed under a tight black shirt as he pointed at sothing on a map. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and the scar that ran across his face that only made him look hotter.
Riven’s lips curled into a smirk.
"Whew. Damn," he whispered to himself, chin propped on the railing as he openly stared. "Why does everyone in this house look like they walked off a romance novel cover? Maybe because they did... Ahahaha... Hah... Being funny isn’t my thing."
He watched as Xavier shifted his stance, arms crossed now, biceps stretching the sleeves of his shirt. Every ti he moved, his body shifted like a weapon sheathed in skin. Riven’s brain short-circuited a little.
Focus, he told himself. This is serious. He’s working. Probably talking about battle plans or sothing important.
...Still.
The way Xavier’s jaw clenched when he spoke? Delicious.
Riven sighed dreamily. "God, I love being in this world."
He stayed like that for a while, totally zoning out and admiring the view until his stomach made a sad little growl of protest. Right. Breakfast.
With one last wistful glance, Riven peeled himself away from the railing and headed toward the dining hall. The kitchen staff had already set out a simple but warm al—toast, fruit, so kind of fluffy scrambled egg dish, and a mug of cocoa.
He was halfway through munching on a piece of toast when a servant stepped in.
"My lord," the man said carefully, his face pinched in slight discomfort, like he wasn’t sure how to deliver the ssage.
Riven blinked. "Hmm? What is it?"
"There’s... Soone at the door for you. They asked for you specifically."
Riven raised an eyebrow, a piece of toast still in hand. "For ?"
The servant nodded. "They insisted."
Now, that could an a lot of things.
Riven imdiately perked up. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait—was it Ronan? He finally took up on that offer to co visit? Tell he’s looking all smug and mysterious at the front gate right now!"
The servant looked confused. "Um, I—"
"I knew he’d miss ," Riven said, standing so fast the chair nearly tipped over. "Alright, stay calm, Riven. Look cute but not desperate. Confident, flirty—like a delicious breakfast you can’t resist."
He tossed the toast onto his plate and practically skipped to the front entrance, heart fluttering a little. It had to be Ronan. Who else would show up like this, unannounced, and ask for him?
He threw open the double doors with the most dramatic flair he could manage.
"Ronan—!" he started, his voice high and sweet.
But it wasn’t Ronan.
Riven blinked. Then blinked again.
Standing there was soone he hadn’t seen in ages. And definitely not soone he expected.
"...You?" he said, tone suddenly flat with disbelief.
Riven stood frozen in the doorway, blinking up at the tall figure in front of him.
Leon.
But not the usual version of Leon in shiny embroidered robes and dripping in obnoxious royal jewellery. No, this Leon was... Dressed down. Way down. He was wearing a plain brown cloak, a loose shirt tucked into travel-worn pants, and—Riven blinked again—boots that looked worn out.
His long blond hair, usually styled like he was going to a portrait session, was tied up into a neat ponytail. His sharp golden eyes looked tired, but when they landed on Riven, his whole face lit up for a split second—just a mont—but it was there. Warmth. Relief.
Then, like soone flicked a switch, Leon’s expression turned into a perfect mask of bored arrogance.
"Took you long enough to open the door," he said, arms crossed, voice dripping with that usual royal attitude. Like he hadn’t just shown up uninvited.
Riven stared at him, deadpan. "...Your Highness?" It ca out quicker than he could think. What was the King doing here?
"No, You can call ... Leon."
Riven’s eye twitched. "What are you doing here?"
Leon scoffed, like the question personally offended him. "I left the kingdom."
Riven blinked again. "You what?"
"I’m no longer the king."
Riven’s brain short-circuited. For a mont, he just stared, trying to process that sentence. And then, unbidden, an image popped into his head:
The Evil Dowager Queen was standing on the palace steps, arms crossed and eyes blazing, yelling "GET OUT!" while Leon was being kicked down the marble stairs. He imagined Leon landing at the bottom, dusting himself off dramatically, then tying his belongings in a sad little cloth bag on the end of a stick like an abandoned child from a cartoon. Wandering through the wilderness, grumbling the whole way.
Riven snorted.
Leon frowned. "What?"
Riven tried to hold back his laughter. "No, nothing, I just—uh—so you’re not king anymore? That’s wild. But like... Why here? Why co to of all people?"
Leon’s expression shifted slightly. Sothing flickered across his face—sothing that might have been guilt or vulnerability—but then it vanished and was replaced by pure lion pride.
He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you acting like it’s weird? You should be honoured."
"Honoured?" Riven blinked. "We bickered so much, I’m pretty sure I will shave your tail out of spite!"
"You- How rude?!" Leon exclaid.
"? You’re the one who’s rude, showing up unannounced!" Riven complained.
Leon huffed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, like the royal habits hadn’t fully worn off yet. "Regardless. I’m here now. So make room."
"Wait, wait—hold on!" Riven turned around, waving his hands. "You can’t just show up at my door with no warning and declare you’re moving in! What do you want from ?"
Leon turned to face him, chest puffed out, arms crossed, the absolute picture of offended royal lion energy.
"You," he said, with great drama and zero sha, "need to take responsibility for ."
Riven’s mouth fell open. "WHAT?!"
"You heard ."
"I—What does that even an?!"
Leon tilted his chin up like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "I gave up everything. The palace. My title. My kingdom. All of it."
"Because you—?"
"Because I was tired of it! And I wouldn’t have been tired of it if it wasn’t for you! If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have realised a lot of things... So- In conclusion, you have to take responsibility for !" Leon declared without an ounce of sha.
Riven blinked.
Just once. Then again.
Then he burst out laughing.
"This is a joke... Right?" Riven said, trying to contain his laughter.
Leon looked offended, he stepped closer and closer to Riven, making Riven take a few steps back... "I am being very serious. You have to take responsibility for . I still rember that morning, you can’t just up and leave like that. You. Have. To. Take. Responsibility."
Silence.
They stared at each other. Wait... Leon was being serious?
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