The rain fell softly against the tall windows of the imperial suite, casting blurred reflections across the marble floor. Somewhere beyond the fortress walls, a city hummed with anticipation, its people unaware of the quiet tremors threatening to unravel everything within the palace.
Cassian sat by the hearth, legs stretched out, fingers curled around a goblet of dark wine he hadn't touched. Shadows clung to his cheekbones, and a deep weariness had settled behind his eyes since the poisoning. Recovery came slowly, painfully, and with it came doubt.
Riven stood across the room, eyes fixed on the fire, but his thoughts far from the warmth it offered. The letters from his father weighed heavy in the satchel slung over his shoulder, secrets still unopened, truths he wasn't ready to face.
He finally broke the silence. "The High Council asked for your abdication today."
Cassian gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Did they offer you the crown yet?"
Riven's jaw tensed. "Not yet. But Arien has aligned enough votes. The motion will come within the fortnight."
Cassian turned, wine forgotten, eyes locking with Riven's. "And what do you want, Riven? My crown? Or my trust?"
Silence stretched. Then, softly, Riven said, "I want you."
The words hung between them like smoke, fragile and dangerous.
Cassian rose, slow and deliberate. The firelight bathed his skin in gold and shadow, revealing the bruises still fading along his ribs. He crossed to Riven, stopping just inches away. "Then take me. If you still know how."
Riven's breath hitched. He reached up, brushing his fingers along Cassian's scarred side, tracing each mark with reverence. "I never forgot."
Cassian leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. "Then show me. Remind me of what we were."
Clothes fell like whispers between them, lost in the storm outside and the deeper tempest within. Their mouths met with aching hunger—not of lust alone, but of longing, grief, and the need to feel alive. Riven's hands were trembling at first, until Cassian whispered his name and everything stilled.
In the quiet that followed, they found their rhythm again.
Riven pressed his forehead to Cassian's, breath ragged. "I thought I lost you."
Cassian pulled him closer, their bare skin flush, heat blooming between them. "Then find me again."
They moved slowly at first, worshipping each other like penitent kings, every sigh and moan a prayer, every touch a confession. Cassian arched under Riven's mouth, his nails digging into his lover's back as wave after wave of sensation threatened to shatter the walls he'd so carefully rebuilt.
They spoke without words: apologies etched into skin, forgiveness mouthed against collarbones, promises sealed between gasps.
Outside, thunder echoed.
Inside, they burned.The flicker of candlelight danced along the gilded edges of the chamber's ceiling, throwing soft shadows that crawled and clung to every arch and corner like whispers too heavy to speak aloud. Riven sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers trembling slightly as he unwrapped the bloodied bandage from Cassian's abdomen. The wound had begun to close, but the flesh was still tender, still marked by the venomous betrayal they both refused to name.
Cassian winced, biting back a sharp breath. "You don't have to do this yourself."
Riven's jaw clenched. "Yes, I do."
Their eyes met. Cassian's were clouded, not just with pain, but with exhaustion—of body, of heart, of soul. Riven had never seen him this unguarded. The iron-willed emperor who once commanded legions with a glance now looked... breakable.
Riven dipped the cloth into warm water, wringing it out slowly before pressing it gently against Cassian's side. The quiet hiss of pain cut him deeper than any blade.
"Do you remember," Riven whispered, eyes fixed on the wound, "when we first stood on the southern cliffs after the victory at Myrelis? You laughed. Actually laughed. Said the sky looked like fire and that it finally felt like ours."
Cassian's lips twitched, the ghost of that memory lighting his features. "I remember. I remember thinking your hair looked like a storm."
The tension between them cracked, just slightly. Riven looked up. "I almost kissed you then."
Cassian didn't respond with words. Instead, his hand reached up, cupping the side of Riven's neck with such fragile affection it made Riven's heart stutter. He leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When they opened again, something had shifted.
He lowered his mouth to Cassian's, brushing lips against lips in a whisper of need. Cassian's fingers curled tighter, and the kiss deepened, full of the ache they had carried for too long. It was not fierce—no, this was slower, desperate in its own way, soaked in emotion neither could outrun.
Riven pulled back just enough to murmur, "Say no, and I'll stop."
Cassian's answer was silence—his body surging forward, his mouth crashing into Riven's with the force of years of restraint snapping like brittle glass.
Clothes fell away between them like shedding skin. Riven's fingers mapped every scar, every memory etched into Cassian's body. His lips followed, reverent, trembling, leaving no part of him untouched, unloved.
Cassian, still weak but hungry with need, surrendered to Riven's touch with open gasps and shuttered eyes. His hands dragged over the planes of Riven's back, clinging, anchoring.
Their bodies aligned, slow and purposeful, a rhythm born from heartbreak and healing. Every motion was a question. Every moan, an answer. They moved like they were learning each other anew—no longer general and emperor, but simply men, raw and bare.
Riven held him close through every wave, every cry muffled against sweat-slicked skin. He whispered Cassian's name over and over, like a prayer, like a promise.
And when it was done—when the last tremors faded into silence—they remained wrapped around each other, chests rising in tandem, the air thick with the scent of sex and candle wax and unspoken truths.
"I've always been yours," Riven said hoarsely, brushing damp hair from Cassian's temple.
Cassian didn't speak. He simply pressed his forehead to Riven's and let a single tear slip down his cheek.
For now, the war beyond their doors could wait. Tonight, they had this.
Their fractured hearts finding rhythm again, in the weight of a single touch.The room was dimly lit, just enough for the firelight to catch the sheen of sweat glistening across skin. Their breath came in staggered waves, soft gasps and low moans spilling into the air between half-formed confessions. There were no titles here. No armor. Just the pure, vulnerable truth of two men who had circled each other for too long.
Cassian's fingers brushed against Riven's collarbone, reverent, as if committing the shape to memory. "You always keep so much hidden," he whispered. "Even from me."
Riven's lips quirked into a faint, almost bitter smile. "Maybe I thought if I showed you everything, you'd leave."
Cassian leaned down, his forehead pressing gently to Riven's. "And yet here I am. Still choosing you. Even now."
The soft press of mouths followed—no hunger this time, only need. A need to connect, to soothe, to remind themselves that even amidst betrayal, war, and ghosts of the past, this was real. Cassian kissed him slowly, deliberately, as though tasting something sacred. Riven arched into him, letting go in small increments, like frost melting under the sun.
Their fingers laced. Riven's throat caught as he breathed out, the sound like a sob held back for too long. "You feel like home," he said, hoarse. "And I don't know if I deserve that anymore."
Cassian moved lower, lips trailing a path down Riven's chest. "Then I'll keep reminding you. As long as it takes."
Bodies moved in sync, as if learning a language they had always spoken but never dared utter aloud. It was a dance of shadows and flame, pain and healing, where every touch mended a scar and every sigh cast out doubt.
Hours passed in that intimate spell—some moments frantic, others tender—but all filled with the weight of what they'd both almost lost. When they lay still again, skin against skin, the silence was warm.
Riven spoke first, voice barely audible. "I know the war isn't over. That everything outside this room is falling apart. But right now… this feels like peace."
Cassian drew lazy circles on Riven's bare hip, heart aching with something too vast to name. "Then let's hold onto it. Just a little longer."
And in the hush that followed, with dawn threatening at the edges of the sky, two men who had worn masks for too long finally slept without them.