It had been three days since their departure from the island, and they were finally approaching the country.
Tension lingered between Hael and Ceremus—though it was more pronounced on Ceremus' part. He resented the fact that Hael had run off alone, recklessly facing a group of unknown creatures. The sight had unsettled him greatly, but pride kept him from expressing why it had affected him so much.
"Manly pride is a useless thing," his father had always said. "With pride comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. You only hurt yourself when you choose not to speak up or ask for help."
Ceremus' expression darkened at the thought of his father. He had always known the right things to say, always been the wisest man Ceremus had ever met. Taking a steadying breath, he resolutely left his quarters and stepped onto the deck, where he found Hael conversing with the crewmen. The moment Hael sensed his presence, he turned to see the king approaching.
The others took that as their cue to leave.
Ceremus' tunic shifted slightly as he walked, the movement revealing his firm, defined thighs. His stride was lithe, each step filled with purpose. As he stopped before Hael, his gaze dropped slightly.
Hael unconsciously swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
"We will be arriving in Leacus soon," Ceremus said, his voice calm but firm. "You are to stay put and follow my orders from now on. I don't want a repeat of what happened on the island."
He was, of course, referring to the moment Hael had dashed off to save the blind old man from the thieving harpies. The fear Ceremus had felt in that instant—when Hael was suddenly no longer by his side—was not something he wished to experience again.
Hael saw the cold gleam in Ceremus' eyes and nodded without argument.
From a distance, Loki had been watching the scene unfold. He sighed, shaking his head at his friend's foolishness. For once, he found himself in agreement with the king. Hael's reckless actions had been frustrating, and it baffled him that the young man didn't seem to grasp how terrifying it had been to watch him take off like that.
Sensing the tension, Hael frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"
Loki gave him a deadpan look. Hael tilted his head in confusion.
Despite his lingering frustration, Ceremus found the gesture oddly endearing.
"You ran off after those harpies without so much as a word or warning!" Loki exclaimed. "What would've happened if we hadn't arrived in time? You could've been seriously hurt, Hael! You act as if you forget that you still have flesh and blood—bones that can shatter, that can break! Just because you carry the blood of a goddess in your veins doesn't mean you can't die." He let out a sharp breath. "I understand you wanted to help the old man, but you must think before you act."
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken concern.
Ceremus shot Loki a surprised glance—this was the first time he had ever seen the bird scold Hael. It was an interesting sight to behold.
Hael's expression was conflicted, as if he knew he had been in the wrong but couldn't bring himself to fully admit it because he knew he was never in any serious danger.
Ceremus hadn't realized Hael could be so stubborn. It was… oddly refreshing.
Hael's guilty gaze flickered to Ceremus, as if silently asking if he felt the same way as Loki.
The king exhaled. "Loki's right. That was reckless of you—though I do understand why you did it. Harpies can fly at great speeds, and you didn't want to risk losing sight of them."
Hael's shoulders relaxed slightly, relieved that Ceremus understood.
"That doesn't make it okay," Ceremus added.
Hael's dejection was obvious. His blue eyes, filled with remorse, pierced through Ceremus' cold resolve, momentarily dissolving his anger.
Finally, Hael sighed. "I apologize," he said, his voice quieter now. "I didn't realize my actions would upset you."
Loki turned his head away, unwilling to meet Hael's innocent gaze. He knew himself too well—if he so much as looked into those eyes, he'd forgive the young man in an instant. He had always been too soft when it came to his dear old friend, but he couldn't afford to let that weakness show. Not now.
Expecting the same unyielding attitude from the king, Loki was stunned when Ceremus let out a sigh and said, "It's alright."
"What?" Loki shouted, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.
Ceremus shifted uncomfortably, looking away. "He's learned from his mistakes. There's no use in punishing him further."
I can't believe it! What is this? Where has that tyrant king gone? The man who had no patience for mistakes, no tolerance for second chances?
Hael looked at Ceremus, his eyes shining with delight. Had Loki not been present, the young man might have thrown himself into the king's arms, but he managed to restrain himself.
"We're nearing Leacus. We should all get some rest. We have a big day ahead of us," Ceremus said, clearing his throat.
Loki scoffed. "Letting him off that easy, huh?"
Ceremus rolled his eyes. Perhaps Loki was right—perhaps he had let Hael off too easily. But how could he stay angry when Hael looked at him like that?
Maybe I've gone too soft.
Loki, unable to stomach the sight of the two any longer, flapped his wings and took off, choosing solitude over whatever was happening between them. Ceremus watched the bird disappear up deck before turning back to Hael.
"You're not going after him?"
Hael shook his head. "When Loki gets like this, it's best to leave him alone. This isn't the first time he's gotten upset over my reckless behavior. He'll come around."
Ceremus nodded. Silence settled between them.
"…I really am sorry," Hael murmured. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Ceremus scoffed. "Why would I ever worry about you? I know you can take care of yourself." As if something would ever happen to this guy.
Hael rose from his chair and approached him. "You really don't care what happens to me?"
Ceremus shot him a side glance but didn't answer.
They were now face-to-face, and Hael's breath was warm against his skin.
"Hmm, I could've sworn I saw how worried you were earlier," Hael said, reaching out and tilting Ceremus' chin up so their eyes met.
Forced to hold his gaze, Ceremus caught the flicker of amusement dancing in Hael's expression.
"You really wouldn't care if something happened to me?" Hael whispered into his ear.
A shiver ran down Ceremus' spine. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, but he steeled himself, forcing his expression to remain indifferent.
"Of course I wouldn't care," he lied through his teeth.
Hael chuckled softly, unconvinced.
Something about that laughter made Ceremus snap. Scowling, he shoved Hael back. "Enough of this. It's clear you're not reflecting on your mistakes."
Hael merely laughed again, eyes glinting with mischief. It was obvious the king was embarrassed—the red tint on his ears gave him away. The temptation to tease him further was strong, but Hael knew it wasn't wise, not after everything that had happened. So he only watched as Ceremus turned on his heel and strode back to his private quarters, clearly flustered.
The king hadn't been gone a full minute before Hael followed.
Ceremus heard the soft footsteps behind him but said nothing, even as Hael stepped into his room without permission. The door clicked shut, and the guard lingered near it, his piercing gaze never leaving the king's form.
Even from behind, Ceremus was breathtaking.
His dark, luscious locks cascaded down his back in soft waves, a curtain Hael longed to run his fingers through. His broad shoulders and sculpted back tensed slightly as he inhaled, and Hael's gaze trailed lower—to his narrow, defined waist, then to his long, powerful legs.
Every inch of him was captivating. From the top of his head to the tips of his feet, Ceremus was a masterpiece.
Hael found himself unconsciously drifting closer until he stood directly behind Ceremus. Without thinking, he pressed his body against the king's back, his fingers threading through his dark hair before gently pushing the strands aside, exposing the curve of his neck.
Ceremus' breath hitched at the touch, his body rigid with tension.
A soft, floral scent lingered at the crook of his neck, delicate yet intoxicating. Hael inhaled deeply, tilting his head as he took it in. His nose brushed lightly against the tender skin, and Ceremus trembled from the fleeting contact.
He remained frozen in place, unsure whether to move or stay still. His lashes fluttered shut as he felt Hael nuzzle against his neck, his warm breath fanning over his skin. A strong hand then slid to his waist, fingers tightening just enough to send a shiver down his spine.
A quiet gasp escaped his lips.
Ceremus stiffened, heat flooding his cheeks the moment he realized the sound had come from his own mouth.
Hael stilled. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, his grip on Ceremus' waist tightened just slightly—as if testing the waters, as if waiting to see whether the king would pull away or lean in.
Ceremus did neither.
Hael's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. Feeling braver, he placed a delicate kiss on his neck, before travelling higher up his body. He planted a kiss on his jaw, then his chin, before landing on his cheek.