[Lavinia’s POV—Dawnspire Wing—Monts After Luke Leaves]
The door closed.
Softly. Carefully.
As if General Luke feared the sound of it echoing too loudly—feared what truth might spill if it did.
I remained standing where I was, staring at the space he had occupied only monts ago. The air still felt tight. Pressurized. Like the room itself had overheard sothing it was never ant to know.
A father.
A son.
A lie old enough to rot kingdoms from the inside.
I exhaled slowly and lifted a hand to my temple.
"So that’s it," I murmured. "That’s the knot the empire tried to bury."
Behind the door, I could sense him—Haldor. Still standing guard. Still unaware that his life had just tilted on its axis.
Good.
Not yet.
I straightened, smoothing my gown, reclaiming the calm that power demanded. Whatever storm was coming, I would not let it reach him unard.
I crossed the chamber and opened the door of the balcony, because I know that idiot is sowhere around here, listening.
A shimr rippled in the air.
Rey appeared like he always did—leaning casually against existence itself, eyes sharp despite the lazy tilt of his posture.
"Well," he drawled, glancing around, "judging by the atmosphere, soone either confessed treason or parenthood."
I looked at him flatly.
"Both," I said.
That wiped the smirk right off his face.
"...Oh."
I gestured to the couch. "Sit. This is not a conversation you take standing."
Rey obeyed instantly, all humor gone, fingers lacing together. "So," he said carefully, "tell everything. Slowly. Preferably without skipping the parts where fate laughs at us."
I walked to the window, staring out at the palace grounds bathed in torchlight.
"General Luke ca to ," I began. "Not as a soldier. Not as a general. As a father."
Rey inhaled sharply. "So it’s confird?"
"Not yet," I replied. "But his certainty is... dangerous."
I turned back to him. "He believes Haldor is his son. Believes it in his bones. But Astreyon claims they’ve ’found’ his child."
Rey let out a low whistle. "That’s not coincidence. That’s bait."
"Exactly," I said. "And Luke knows it. But belief without proof will destroy him and Haldor."
Rey’s gaze hardened. "You want confirmation."
"I want truth," I corrected. "Clean. Absolute. Sothing no priest, king, or god can dispute."
Silence fell between us.
Then Rey smiled. Not playfully. Dangerously.
"Good," he said. "Because blood does not lie. It only hides."
I turned fully toward him. "Tell what you need."
"Ti," he said. "Access to old lineage rites. And permission to step on several sacred toes."
"You have all of it," I replied without hesitation. "And if Astreyon interferes—"
"They won’t," Rey interrupted lightly. "We don’t need them. We only need Luke and Haldor."
"Good," I nodded once. "Until then, Haldor must not know."
Rey studied for a mont. "You’re protecting him."
"Yes," I said quietly. "And because hope, given too early, is cruelty."
Rey leaned back, sighing. "You know... most rulers would use this. A general’s weakness. A captain’s lineage."
"I am not most rulers," I replied coldly.
His lips curved faintly. "No. You’re worse. You care."
I allowed myself a thin smile. "That’s what makes dangerous."
A pause.
Then Rey stood. "I’ll start tonight."
As he turned to leave, I spoke again.
"Rey."
He glanced back.
"If Haldor truly is his son... the empire will shift."
Rey’s eyes glead. "Then let it. Empires were ant to move."
He vanished.
The room fell quiet again, and I sighed heavily. "Too much is going on suddenly."
I walked to the door.
Opened it.
Haldor stood exactly where I’d left him—straight-backed, composed, eyes lifting instantly to et mine.
"Your Highness," he said softly. "Is everything alright?"
I looked at him.
At the man who had kissed under the stars. At the boy who might have been stolen from his blood. At the captain whose life was balanced on a truth he did not yet know.
"Yes," I said gently. "Co in."
Haldor nodded and stepped inside, closing the door behind him with the sa care he used on battlefields—quiet, controlled, alert.
"May I know," he asked carefully, "why the General was here, Your Highness?"
The question was polite.
Too polite.
He was curious—but disciplined enough not to show it.
I walked to the couch and sank into it with a quiet sigh, letting a hint of weariness seep into my posture. Sotis, the best lies were wrapped in truth.
"He ca," I muttered, resting my elbow against the armrest, "to inform about a secret salt mine."
Haldor blinked.
"...A salt mine?"
I nodded, rubbing my temple as if already bored by the subject. "Yes. Apparently, ren was hiding one near the eastern ridges. Arwin sent a report earlier—Luke only confird it."
That much was true.
Just not the reason Luke had co.
Haldor’s expression shifted instantly—from curiosity to sharp military focus. "A hidden salt mine is not insignificant, Your Highness. Salt routes can fund an army for decades."
"I know," I replied flatly. "Which is why Papa will be delighted. And why the nobles will pretend they discovered it themselves."
That earned a faint, breathless huff from him—almost a laugh, quickly swallowed.
"I see," he said. Then, after a pause, "So... it wasn’t urgent?"
I lifted my gaze to him.
asured. Calm. Unreadable.
"Not urgent enough to trouble you," I said. "You’ve done more than enough tonight."
Sothing in his shoulders loosened—just a fraction.
"I’m relieved," he admitted quietly. "For a mont, I thought I had missed sothing important."
You have.
Just not yet.
"Captain, escorting tonight was not a duty assigned lightly. I won’t have you doubting yourself over shadows."
He straightened imdiately. "I would never doubt my duty to you."
I believed him.
That was the problem.
I stepped closer, close enough that the air between us shifted again—not charged like before, but warm. Familiar. Dangerous in its own way.
"You should rest," I said softly. "The night has been... long."
"Yes, Your Highness," he replied, then hesitated. His eyes flicked to my face, lingering for a heartbeat too long before discipline reclaid him.
"...Are you well?" The question was quiet. Personal. Almost intimate.
I smiled—small, controlled, reassuring. "I am."
For a mont, that should have been the end of it.
But it wasn’t.
Haldor hesitated. His gaze slipped away from mine, settling sowhere near my shoulder, as if looking directly at would expose sothing he wasn’t ready to na.
"Then..." he said carefully, "...should I leave, Your Highness?"
"Of course," I began lightly. "You’re tired. You should—"
I stopped.
Because when I truly looked at him, I saw it.
The hesitation. The restraint. The way his feet hadn’t moved even though his duty demanded it. He wanted to stay.
Just a little closer.
His fingers curled once at his side, then relaxed. His voice lowered—softer than before.
"I can protect you," he said. "...just a little longer, Your Highness. If—if you allow it."
Sothing warm blood quietly in my chest. I smiled, not teasing—gentle.
"You do not wish to protect tomorrow, Haldor?" I asked.
He blinked, startled. "Of course I do."
"Then," I said calmly, tilting my head, "you have to rest, don’t you?"
He froze.
"Otherwise," I continued lightly, "how exactly am I supposed to be protected by my captain?"
His face went red instantly—from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.
"I—yes—Your Highness," he said quickly. "I didn’t... I didn’t think about that."
I chuckled softly. "That much is obvious."
He straightened, clearly flustered now. I stepped closer—just enough to soften him.
"You did well today, Haldor," I said quietly.
His shoulders eased, as if the weight of the night had finally loosened its grip.
"Go," I added. "Take so rest."
He nodded, bowing deeply this ti. "Yes, Your Highness."
And then he left.
The door closed softly behind him. I stared at it for a mont longer than necessary.
"So... cute," I murmured to no one.
I turned, crossed the room, and flopped back onto my bed with a tired sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
"It was a tiring day," I muttered.
Or perhaps it was the day sothing shifted.
Sothing subtle. Sothing irreversible.
And the reason behind that change... Was Haldor.
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