The hallway of Blackwood Manor breathed with morning silence—soft light drifting through arched windows, dust motes floating like drifting petals. Lirael swept along the corridor with his usual quiet grace, white-and-gold robes whispering with each step, his long blonde hair gathered loosely over one shoulder like molten honey.
He did not expect a man to materialize from the air itself.
One heartbeat the hallway was empty—
the next, a tall figure in a deep grey cloak stood before him, the fabric shimmering as if woven with threads of dawnlight.
Lirael startled, a flicker of panic flashing in his pink-magenta eyes. He stepped back, foot catching the edge of the carpet—
and he nearly fell.
A strong hand snatched his waist, pulling him upright with infuriating ease.
The masked man's voice was low, velvet-smooth, gorgeous enough to be illegal.
"You look beautiful today."
Lirael blinked. His mind stuttered.
His cheeks warmed—barely, but enough.
"W-what are you doing here?" he murmured, regaining his posture as the man released him.
The stranger straightened, muscles shifting beneath his cloak like sculpted stone. His presence filled the hallway, as if the very air bowed to make room for him.
"Danger," he said simply. "Members of the Eclipse Elite will be here soon… to spy on your young lord."
Lirael's breath hitched. Panic flared.
"What do you mean?" he whispered. "Last night—you somehow save him. August is well now. But if they attack again—"
The masked man cut him off gently, raising a gloved hand.
"Do not worry. That's why I came back."
A confident tilt of his chin.
"I intend to catch them alive."
Lirael's eyebrows arched. "Do you really think you can? They're—dangerous. Far beyond—"
The masked man lifted both arms dramatically. Muscles flexed under the cloak, unmistakably impressive.
"Aren't I masculine enough?" he asked with divine seriousness.
Lirael stared at him flatly.
"…No comment."
But something clicked in his memory. He narrowed his eyes.
"Wait—last night. The jasmine you placed beneath the windowsill. How did you know that jasmine is my favorite?"
The masked man froze.
Lirael took a step closer, gaze sharpening.
"Tell me. Stranger. How did you know?"
Before the man could answer, his posture changed. His head snapped toward the arched window. His hand shot out, grabbing Lirael's wrist.
"Stay still."
Lirael gasped as he was tugged down beneath the man's shadow—
his body shielded effortlessly by a solid, masculine form.
"Are they already—?" Lirael began.
The masked man pressed a finger softly to his lips.
"Shhh. They can hear everything."
Lirael felt heat crawl up his neck.
He hated how close they were.
He hated even more how safe it felt.
He turned his head away, blushing with an emotion he refused to identify.
Meanwhile… inside August's study
The thick scent of ink and parchment saturated the air.
Books towered like silent sentinels.
A single ray of sunlight stretched across the mahogany desk where August sat, half-buried in political documents.
He should have been focused.
But He was not.
Because Elias—infuriating, unmoving, irritatingly calm Elias—sat on the chaise nearby, watching him with the bored vigilance of a lion deciding whether to pounce.
Every time August lifted his gaze, Elias's eyes were already on him.
It grated August's nerves raw.
He covered his face with his hand, muttering, "What should I do about him…?"
When he dared to peek again, Elias was still staring—expression unreadable, annoyingly handsome, endlessly frustrating.
August's jaw twitched.
He snapped, "Stop looking at me."
Elias didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Didn't even pretend to look away.
Instead, he stood up—slowly. Deliberately.
August stiffened as those long strides approached the desk.
"What do you want now?" he demanded sharply.
Elias didn't answer. He leaned in—low—his breath brushing August's ear.
"Shhh," he whispered. "Do not move."
August pulled back, frowning. "What are you talking about?"
"There's a shadow outside your window," Elias murmured. "Someone is watching."
August's spine locked.
His heartbeat spiked—but he masked it instantly.
"If you don't want to get stabbed," Elias continued quietly, "stay still."
August scoffed, though tension rippled beneath his skin.
"What do you think of me that I'm a coward?"
"This isn't about cowardly," Elias replied. "It's about common sense. Bend down."
August turned his head sharply and snorted, "I do not follow orders. I give orders."
"Fine," Elias sighed. "Do what you want. But if you'd like to remain alive, consider not standing like a target."
August clenched his jaw so tightly it cracked.
He stood up anyway, refusing to be treated like fragile porcelain.
He took one step.
Then another.
The moment he neared the window—
An arrow sliced through the air.
Elias lunged.
The world spun.
August was slammed backward, onto the floor—
Elias landing fully on top of him, shielding him with his entire weight.
A groan escaped August's lips—half pain, half shock.
Elias braced his arms, trapping August beneath him as another arrow thudded into the desk.
"I warned you," Elias muttered.
"—stop blaming me!" August snapped, cheeks burning.
Elias's gaze sharpened as he looked at the attacker's silhouette outside.
"Your study chamber isn't safe anymore."
August tried to shove him off, face blazing scarlet.
"G-get off me! You —you big fat pig! You're crushing me!"
"It's all muscle," Elias said flatly.
"Whatever it is—IT'S HEAVY!" August gasped, squirming.
Elias pressed down even more, forcing August flat.
"Now, now… stay like this a little longer. The assassin hasn't left."
August went rigid.
His ears felt hot.
His chest heaved beneath Elias's weight, completely trapped.
"You—" August sputtered, mortified. "Get off!"
"No."
"Elias."
"No."
"I—" August swallowed, voice cracking. "I can't breath—"
Elias glanced down.
Their faces were inches apart.
Their breaths mingled.
For one heartbeat, the air froze.
Then Elias whispered, softer than he intended:
"Don't move."
August's entire face detonated crimson.
August writhed beneath Elias, his hands clawing at the broad chest pinning him down. Every attempt to shove him off was met with unyielding weight. Elias shifted only slightly, an immovable force in the morning light.
He turned his head, eyes catching August's flushed, burning cheeks. Something flickered in Elias's gaze—recognition, amusement, and an echo of a memory he couldn't quite name. His own breath drifted dangerously close to August's face.
"Elias, just get off me!" August gasped, squirming.
Elias's lips curved in a slow, deliberate smirk. "Listen, August… have we ever been this close before?" His voice was calm, but the tone carried a weight that pressed August's heart into his throat.
August's cheeks flamed hotter. "Why are you asking me, you horrible pig? You're crushing me!" His voice barked sharp, a desperate insistence.
Elias's smirk deepened. "Seeing you so weak beneath me… it's… strangely relaxing."
August's eyes snapped to him, wide with indignation. "Oh really? We'll see about that!"
In one swift motion, he bent his knee and shot it upward with precision. The point of contact struck Elias squarely, and a guttural groan tore from him. His body flinched violently, the shock of pain radiating through every sinew.
"Serves you right!" August barked, panting but emboldened.
Elias's jaw clenched, teeth grinding. "You'll pay for that," he hissed, voice strained but simmering with controlled fury.
August raised a brow, smug even through the flush of exertion. "Like I'm afraid of you? You were the one who refused to get off me."
Pain sharpened through Elias, a tangible heat spreading from the blow, but something else lingered—the absurdity, the closeness, the ridiculous intensity of the moment. His eyes flicked over August's face again, noting the faint tremor in his lips, the way his small hands still tried to push him off despite the futility.
Elias's lips twitched, part anger, part amusement, part something unnamed. He could feel every heartbeat of August beneath him, every shallow inhale of panicked air. It was maddening… intoxicating.
August squirmed, trying to lever himself free again. "Move! You're unbearable!" he barked, eyes narrowed, teeth clenched.
Elias let out a long, slow exhale, his gaze unwavering. "Unbearable, am I? Or… unforgettable?"
August's head snapped up sharply. "Don't flatter yourself, you—" He paused mid-bark, realizing he couldn't fully articulate the mix of fury and disbelief he felt.
Pain, proximity, and a strange, infuriating tension coiled around them like a living thing. Elias shifted slightly, enough to make the point clear: he wouldn't relent. August's eyes widened in frustrated awe, cheeks still burning, heart hammering.
Elias twitched his mouth once more, the corners pulling into a smirk even through the pain. "I promise," he murmured, voice low, "I will… take revenge."
August blinked at him, utterly flustered, and then let out a sharp, indignant bark. "Then be ready for another blow!"
The assassin hesitated outside the study, shadowed by uncertainty. His hand hovered over the hilt of his blade. A weak Eclipse Elite member—more hesitation than menace. Slowly, deliberately, he entered, eyes flicking toward the desk.
Elias moved like liquid shadow, appearing at the side in an instant. One hand shot out, gripping the intruder by the throat. The assassin's blade whispered from its sheath, gleaming coldly.
"Where is August?" the assassin demanded, voice low and sharp.
"He is none of your business," Elias replied, steady, unyielding.
Under the desk, August froze. Legs bound, wrists tied, mouth gagged. His muffled curses vibrated through the gag, each one laced with fury and incredulity. Elias you bastard! he cursed silently, glaring with smoke-grey eyes. You dare to pull this trick .
The assassin sneered, pressing forward despite Elias's grip. "I have no quarrel with you. I'm here to end the one with knowledge of the forbidden place."
August stilled. His curses faltered, replaced by tense silence. Forbidden place… the words cut through the haze of anger.
"It's not your choice," Elias said, voice low, ice laced with danger. "I cannot let you harm him."
The assassin's blade clashed against Elias's with a metallic scream. Sparks and shivers of impact rippled through the air.
August's eyes flicked to Elias, panic and admiration tangled together. His hands struggled futilely against the ropes, trying to signal, to scream, to warn. Don't—don't let him drag you into this. But Elias's restraint was ironclad.
"You'll pay," Elias muttered through clenched teeth, driving the assassin back. "Who sent you?"
"None of your concern," the assassin spat, blade swinging with unrefined fury. "You can't save him not after he knows what he shouldn't"
Elias's jaw tightened. Every strike was deliberate, precise, laced with controlled violence. He drove the intruder back, each clash a statement: no one, no shadow, would touch August while he lived.
Beneath the desk, August's struggle grew more frantic. Ropes bit into his wrists. The gag muffled his curses, his commands, his panic. He knew Elias would hear him in his silent, furious way—he just had to hold on, just wait.
Elias shifted forward, pressing closer to the assassin, eyes narrowed and green fires burning. "You overstep," he hissed. "And you will regret it."
August's fists clenched, legs straining against their bindings. He gritted his teeth, That bastard knows nothing
Outside, the morning light spilled across the hallway. "Are you scared?" he asked, voice soft, teasing, yet edged with certainty.
Lirael turned his head sharply, cheeks heating. "No," he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
The masked man blinked, expression unreadable beneath the mask. "Even if you are… you shouldn't be."
Before Lirael could protest, a gloved hand lifted, gentle yet firm, resting against his cheek. "As long as I am here," the masked man whispered, "no one can harm you."
Lirael froze. His eyes widened, heart lurching. The warmth of the touch, the unwavering devotion—it shook him, left him trembling. He lowered his gaze, uncertain. "Why… why are you talking like this?"
A low chuckle rumbled through the masked man, dark and amused. Lirael's ears burned.
"You really forgot about me," the man said, voice teasing, melodic, yet carrying weight.
Lirael blinked, startled. "Yes… about that. You know how—"
The masked man's fingers pinched Lirael's cheek lightly, a deliberate, intimate gesture.
"Ah! Stop it!" Lirael exclaimed, flustered, warmth flooding his face.
"Sorry," the masked man replied, tone softening, amused, "but you are… too cute."
Heat surged through Lirael's chest. He staggered back slightly, a shy, unsteady mess of emotions. He didn't know this man—barely knew him—but the kindness, the quiet protection, stirred something familiar.
Just like… just like Martin.
The masked man's eyes, hidden yet piercing, studied him for a long moment. Lirael's breath caught, cheeks aflame, heart hammering in startled rhythm.
Outside, the shadows lingered, silent witnesses to a quiet tension, a fledgling connection forged in touch, words, and unspoken promises.