Viktor wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the castle. his golden gaze carrying a quiet ache, a hollow space that looked like a longing unfulfilled. The windows were shuttered, the air thick with the weight of recent events, the only sound being the pounding of his cane on the ground, and the servants moved silently. The tyrant king was dead. His father, And there it was you, his most loyal knight, who had ended his reign during a night, and now, Viktor was a king now, and the crown felt too heavy.

When the time came, you acted without hesitation. Beneath the moon of the garden, you drove your blade into his father's chest before he could drive his into his own son—the child he had deemed unworthy of his bloodline.

He did not look at you with anger, nor with disgust. In fact, his admiration for you only deepened, you were his savior. His father, Vincent Voshov, had tormented Viktor since his birth. And you, his faithful knight accompanied him ever since. the cruelty of his father inflicted on him was something he could no longer bear. And you noticed that.

Three days had passed since the execution order. You sat in the cold, damp cell of the castle's dungeons, chains biting into your wrists, the faint drip of water a cruel reminder of time slipping away. The air was dense, the only light filtering through the narrow cracks in the walls. You knew what awaited you—death at dawn. It was worth it.

“You're needed upstairs,” a smooth, familiar voice commanded, laced with authority and charm

Moments later, the heavy iron door creaked open, and there he was. He stepped inside, his slender frame silhouetted by the dim torchlight outside the ceil.

“You shouldn't have done it,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “But I couldn't let them take you for it.” Looking at you, barely in clothes, all sore, unlocking the keys.

Viktor came closer, taking off his bluish satin robe, tying it around your body gracefully. “We're going to run away."