The King's Desperation

The world was dark and silent, a cold emptiness wrapping around Thomas like a suffocating blanket. He floated in the abyss, his body weightless, drifting further and further from reality. Somewhere, in the distance, there was a faint sound—a voice calling his name—but it was so far away, unreachable.

Then, as if from nowhere, a bright light pierced the darkness, blinding and all-consuming.

Thomas gasped as he was pulled back into consciousness.

Pain. It hit him all at once, sharp and unrelenting, radiating from his abdomen like fire. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. The noise of the battlefield was gone, replaced by the quiet murmur of voices and the crackling of a nearby fire.

Where was he?

Slowly, Thomas forced his eyes open, squinting against the dim light. The first thing he saw was the ceiling—a high, arched structure of stone. He blinked, his vision adjusting, and realized he was lying in a bed, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating the room.

He tried to move, but the pain flared up again, causing him to grit his teeth and groan.

“Don’t move.”

The voice was soft but commanding, and it sent a shiver down Thomas’s spine. He turned his head slightly, his eyes falling on Alexander, who sat beside him. The king’s face was pale, his expression tense as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. There was no armor, no battle-hardened exterior—just the man beneath.

“How…” Thomas croaked, his voice weak.

Alexander’s eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Alexander reached out, gently brushing his fingers against Thomas’s arm.

“You were stabbed,” Alexander said quietly, his voice laced with emotion. “I brought you back to the palace. The healers have done what they can, but you need to rest.”

Thomas blinked, trying to piece together the memories. The battle… the ambush… the sword. It all came rushing back, and his heart raced as he remembered the moment he fell.

“How long have I been out?” Thomas asked, his voice hoarse.

“Three days,” Alexander replied, his eyes never leaving Thomas’s. “I thought… I thought I lost you.”

There was something raw in Alexander’s voice, something Thomas had never heard before. Vulnerability. Fear.

Thomas swallowed, his throat dry. “You saved me.”

Alexander nodded, his jaw clenched as if he was holding back a flood of emotions. “I couldn’t let you die. Not like that. Not… you.”

Thomas’s heart skipped a beat, his mind still foggy from the pain and exhaustion. He had never seen Alexander like this—so open, so unguarded. It was as if the weight of the crown had been lifted for just a moment, revealing the man beneath the title of king.

“You’re important to me, Thomas,” Alexander continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I realized.”

Thomas’s breath caught in his throat. He had spent so long pushing Alexander away, convinced that their relationship was nothing more than a power struggle, a forced connection due to Julie’s dying wish. But now, looking into Alexander’s eyes, he saw something different. Something real.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Thomas admitted, his voice trembling slightly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Alexander said softly. “Just rest. I’ll be here.”

Thomas hesitated, then slowly nodded, allowing himself to relax into the pillows. The pain in his side was still intense, but the warmth of Alexander’s presence soothed some of the ache. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel so alone.

As the silence stretched between them, Thomas’s mind wandered back to the battlefield. “The battle… what happened? Did we win?”

Alexander’s expression darkened slightly, but he quickly masked it. “We drove Sebastien’s forces back. They retreated to the north, but we’re not done yet. There will be more fighting, but for now, the kingdom is safe.”

Thomas exhaled a sigh of relief, though he could sense the tension still lingering in Alexander’s posture. The war was far from over, and they both knew it. But at least, for now, they had a moment of reprieve.

“Thank you,” Thomas whispered, his eyelids growing heavy as exhaustion began to take over. “For saving me.”

Alexander didn’t respond right away. Instead, he reached out, gently brushing a lock of hair from Thomas’s forehead, his touch tender and careful. Then, in a voice barely audible, he murmured, “I’ll always save you.”

Thomas’s heart ached at the words, a mix of confusion and longing swirling inside him. He wasn’t sure where they stood now, what this newfound closeness meant. But as his eyes drifted closed, he found comfort in the thought that, for the first time, they were beginning to understand each other.

And maybe, just maybe, that understanding would lead to something more.

Later That Night

The palace was quiet, the corridors dimly lit as the moon hung high in the sky. Most of the staff had retired for the night, leaving the halls empty and still. But despite the calm, Alexander found himself unable to sleep.

He stood by the window of his chambers, staring out at the kingdom below. His mind was racing, replaying the events of the past few days over and over again. The battle, the ambush, the moment he thought he’d lost Thomas. It haunted him.

He had always prided himself on being strong, on never allowing his emotions to cloud his judgment. But when Thomas had fallen, something inside him had snapped. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing the man who had come to mean so much to him, even if he had never fully acknowledged it before.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Enter,” Alexander called, turning away from the window.

The door creaked open, and one of the palace healers stepped inside, bowing respectfully. “Your Majesty, I wanted to inform you that Sir Thomas is resting comfortably. His condition is stable, and with time, he should make a full recovery.”

Alexander nodded, relief washing over him. “Thank you. Keep me informed of his progress.”

The healer bowed again before exiting the room, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts once more.

As he sat down at his desk, Alexander’s gaze fell on a small, worn locket that sat atop the pile of papers—Julie’s locket. He picked it up, running his thumb over the smooth surface. It was the last thing she had given him before she died, her final request binding him to Thomas in a way neither of them had expected.

Julie had known. She had always known that Alexander’s feelings for her brother went deeper than he was willing to admit. And now, in her absence, those feelings were finally surfacing.

But there was still so much standing between them. Duty, honor, the weight of the crown. And Thomas—Thomas, who had always been so fiercely independent, so resistant to the idea of being tied to anyone, least of all Alexander.

Could they ever truly find peace together? Or were they doomed to be locked in this push and pull forever?

As the night stretched on, Alexander couldn’t help but wonder if fate had brought them together for a reason. And if so, what that reason might be.

For now, all he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose Thomas. Not again.

To Be Continued...

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