The Calm Before the Storm

The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow across the kingdom. The palace buzzed with the sound of armored soldiers preparing for the march ahead. The rebellion that had simmered beneath the surface was about to erupt, and both Alexander and Thomas knew there was no turning back.

Thomas stood in the courtyard, dressed in full armor, his sword sheathed at his side. He watched as the soldiers lined up, each one preparing for the coming battle with a mixture of excitement and fear. The tension was palpable.

But despite the looming conflict, Thomas’s mind kept drifting back to the night before. The kiss—raw, intense, and unlike anything he had ever experienced. His heart was still racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and desire. He had always hated Alexander, resented him for the control he exerted over his life. Yet in that moment, something had shifted between them.

“Focus, Thomas,” he muttered to himself, shaking off the lingering thoughts. He couldn’t afford distractions right now.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Sir Eamon approached, his heavy footsteps echoing across the stone courtyard. “Ready for this, lad?”

Thomas nodded, forcing himself to push the memories aside. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Eamon studied him for a moment, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good. Because this is going to be a bloody one.”

Before Thomas could respond, a familiar voice called out from behind him. “Thomas.”

He turned to see Alexander approaching, dressed in his battle regalia—dark armor with intricate designs etched into the metal, his royal crest emblazoned on his chest. The sight of him always stirred something in Thomas—admiration for his strength, perhaps, or resentment for the man who had bound him to a fate he never wanted.

“Your Majesty,” Thomas said, bowing slightly as Alexander came to stand beside him.

“We leave in an hour,” Alexander said, his voice formal but his eyes lingering on Thomas for a moment longer than necessary. “Are the men ready?”

Thomas nodded. “They’re prepared.”

Alexander gave a curt nod, but his gaze never wavered. For a brief moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the courtyard, the weight of the unspoken between them heavier than ever. Thomas swallowed hard, resisting the urge to look away.

“We’ll talk later,” Alexander said quietly, his voice low enough for only Thomas to hear.

Before Thomas could respond, Alexander turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, his thoughts once again spinning.

On the Battlefield

By mid-morning, Alexander’s forces had assembled, and they began their march toward Sebastien’s stronghold. The terrain was rough, the road lined with dense forests on either side, the air heavy with the impending storm of battle.

Thomas rode near the front of the column, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he scanned the trees for any sign of ambush. The tension in the air was thick, the soldiers around him silent as they mentally prepared for what was to come.

But even as they approached the enemy, Thomas couldn’t shake the feeling of Alexander’s eyes on him. The king rode slightly behind him, his presence a constant reminder of the growing connection between them—a connection that Thomas wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

“Stay alert,” Sir Eamon said from beside him, his voice gruff. “Sebastien’s no fool. He’ll try to catch us off guard.”

Thomas nodded, tightening his grip on his sword. He had to stay focused. This was what he had trained for his entire life—defending the kingdom, serving his king. And yet, for the first time, the line between duty and personal desire felt blurred.

Hours passed as they continued their march, the tension building with every step. Then, without warning, the sound of horns echoed through the trees.

“Ambush!” one of the soldiers shouted, and chaos erupted.

Sebastien’s forces poured out from the woods, attacking from both sides. The clash of steel rang out as Alexander’s men fought back, the battlefield quickly becoming a frenzy of blood and violence.

Thomas drew his sword, his body moving on instinct as he cut down the enemies that charged toward him. He could feel the heat of battle, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but even as he fought, his eyes kept searching for one figure—Alexander.

The king fought fiercely, his sword cutting through the enemy ranks with precision and power. He was a force to be reckoned with, his movements fluid and deadly. But the enemy was relentless, and for every soldier Alexander cut down, another seemed to take his place.

“Protect the king!” Eamon shouted from somewhere in the chaos, and Thomas’s heart leaped into his throat as he saw a group of enemy soldiers break through the lines, charging straight for Alexander.

Without thinking, Thomas sprinted toward the king, his sword slicing through the enemy ranks as he cleared a path. He reached Alexander just in time to deflect a blow meant for the king, their swords clanging together with a sharp metallic sound.

“Stay close!” Thomas shouted over the din of battle, positioning himself at Alexander’s side.

Alexander glanced at him, a flicker of something—gratitude, perhaps—crossing his face before he quickly turned back to the fight.

The battle raged on, and for what felt like hours, Thomas and Alexander fought side by side, their movements almost in sync as they defended each other from the onslaught of enemies.

But even as they fought, Thomas couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The enemy was too organized, too prepared. Sebastien had clearly been expecting them, and it seemed as if they were being funneled into a trap.

And then, as if on cue, a second wave of enemy soldiers appeared on the horizon, charging toward them with terrifying speed.

“We need to fall back!” Thomas shouted, his voice barely audible over the noise.

Alexander hesitated, his jaw clenched as he surveyed the battlefield. “No. We press on.”

Thomas’s eyes widened in shock. “Your Majesty, we’ll be overrun!”

But Alexander’s face was set with determination. “We can’t retreat now. Not when we’re this close.”

Thomas opened his mouth to argue, but before he could speak, a blinding pain shot through his side, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stumbled, his vision blurring as he looked down to see an enemy sword buried in his abdomen.

“Thomas!” Alexander’s voice was distant, but filled with panic as he rushed toward him.

The world tilted as Thomas fell to his knees, the pain radiating through his body in waves. He could hear the sounds of battle fading around him, everything slowing down as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.

And then, just before the world went black, he felt Alexander’s arms around him, pulling him close.

“Stay with me, Thomas,” Alexander’s voice was desperate, his face hovering above Thomas’s, filled with an emotion Thomas had never seen before.

But it was too late. The darkness swallowed him whole, and everything went silent.

To Be Continued...

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