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Wind whistled past the raven haired boy’s ears as the vast city of Aculon stretched endlessly beneath his feet.
On top of the outer castle walls, the whole world opened below him.
He watched the people in the streets, unburdened by crowns, roam the bustling roads beside the ones they held close.
It was the only place Fluixon tasted the faintest bit of love.
And for a moment, a tinge of warmth flickered in his chest.
Then it twisted into something uglier.
Hatred. Jealousy.
“Flux, get your ass down here! The royals from Theria arrive by sundown.”
Cynikka stood in the courtyard below, ash brown eyes glaring up at him. Her gaze was filled with judgement, the kind she carried for anything she deemed imperfect like she was Jesus himself.
Fluixon didn’t bother replying.
He gave the city one last glance before he flicked his coat aside and began the climb down, fingers gripping onto the familiar grooves worn into the rock.
The palace awaited him below.
The moment he stepped inside, a cold emptiness crept back into his chest.
The castle was a prison dressed in fine clothes.
It was all Fluixon had ever known. He have never once stepped beyond the outer walls.
The palace was large enough to house hundreds, yet there was so little love to fill it.
For all its fanciness, you would expect laughter that could echo through every hall. A warmth that matched the golden glow of the chandeliers.
But only silence filled the rooms.
A loneliness so great it crawled under your skin
and ate away at your heart bit by bit.
But isn’t everyone’s family a little fucked up?
The long wooden banquet table stretched across the dining hall and disappeared into the shadows of the walls.
Servants rushed back and forth, laying plates and silverware while cooks carried in steaming trays.
A feast was being prepared for Theria’s arrival.
“Can this be any slower?” The king snarled.
“I will have you slackers know, if this alliance treaty isn’t signed because of your laziness, you will all bite the curb!”
The servants moved faster.
No one dared to speak.
They knew better than to make Elanuelo angry.
Moments later, trumpets blared through the halls.
The massive doors at the far end of the room creaked open.
Everyone snapped to attention.
A woman with long blonde hair and emerald green eyes stepped through the doorway.
A golden crown rested in her hair like a halo.
She carried herself with a gracefulness hardly seen in Aculon.
Behind her stood five soldiers clad in Theria’s colors.
“Emperor Elanuelo,”she said with a slight bow, voice smooth and soft.
“We gift these five finest soldiers of Theria to
protect the crown. May our alliance last long as their oath holds true.”
“Queen Jophiel, you are a generous women. It’s truly our honor to meet you.”
The emperor’s words dripped sweet and honeyed as he returned the bow.
Disgustingly fake.
The boy wondered if his father had ever been genuine about anything.
Fluixon’s attention shifted quickly to the soldiers.
They were young.
Couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
A flicker of excitement sparked in his chest at the thought of people close to his age in the palace.
People who weren’t that witch Cynikka.
He could even make a friend.
Something about the guests from Theria stood out.
Unlike the practiced, brittle smiles of Aculon royals, their happiness looked easy and natural.
Even the five guards weren’t your typical rigid soldiers.
Still, one of them felt kinder than the others.
His skin was pale.
His eyes were a warm grey.
Hair the color of freshly fallen snow fell softly across his face. Even his lashes were white, softening his gaze beneath the candlelight.
Behind each ear tucked a small wing, feathers resting neatly into his hair.
He looked gentle.
Like someone meant to tend the wounds of soldiers rather than hold a blade.
The winged boy’s eyes found Fluixon’s.
For a moment they simply stared at each other.
Studying.
Then both looked away.
The feast dragged on with endless chatter from the adults.
Elanuelo’s politeness made Fluixon feel sick.
He could see through his father’s facade.
It was painfully obvious Elanuelo had never wanted to host this feast in the first place.
Eventually the royals began to leave, their voices faded into the distance.
Soon the hall grew to a familiar quietness again.
Only the five guards remained.
⸻
For the first time since entering the palace, Saparata allowed himself to look around.
The hall was enormous.
The ceiling stretched high above them, carved with swirling patterns and gold leaf that caught the candlelight. Marble pillars lined the room, and the floor beneath his boots was so polished he could nearly see his own reflection.
Saparata shifted slightly, careful not to scuff the stone.
It felt strange.
Everything here was polished and structured.
Perfect.
So different from home.
Back in Theria’s countryside, the ground was uneven beneath your feet. Grass grew wild across the hills and mud stuck to your boots after the rain. The wind danced through crooked wooden fences and the smell of wet soil filled the air.
Here the air smelled like wax and perfume.
Like a place that had never known dirt, too good to be true.
Saparata’s grey eyes drifted across the hall again, quiet wonder flickering through them.
For a moment he forgot to stand perfectly still.
Hyvroation nudged him lightly with an elbow.
“Saps, stop staring.” He whispered.
Saparata blinked, straightening quickly.
“Sorry.”
But the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth didn’t disappear.
He couldn’t help it.
They had actually made it.
The five of them stood inside the palace of Aculon, chosen to guard the crown itself.
Anyone would feel a little proud of that.
The dream they once whispered about while lying in tall grass had somehow become real.
Thomas5200 shifted beside him, clearly trying not to smile too widely.
“This place is doing way too much." He muttured.
Hvyroation scoffed.
“You say that like you’re not impressed.”
“I’m not.”
Thomas5200 glanced up at the chandelier.
“…Okay maybe a little.”
Saparata snorted quietly.
Cynikka gave them a strange look.
He quickly looked forward again.
He remembered the nights back home when the five of them would race along the riverbanks, wooden sticks clutched in their hands pretending they were swords.
They would charge across the fields, boots kicking up mud.
“CHARGE!”
Thomas5200 had always yelled the loudest.
Now they stood here wearing real armor. Real swords hung at their sides.
For the first time in his life, Saparata felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
His fingers brushed the hilt of his blade.
Not for glory. Not for pride. Just to protect.
Like they had promised.
Across the hall, the prince studied them quietly. Still sat in his seat.
Saparata’s eyes met Fluixon’s once again.
This time neither of them looked away immediately.
Two boys standing on opposite sides of the hall.
Two lives that could not be more different.
Saparata flashed the prince a small smile.
Fluixon did not return it, he only continued studying Saparata’s face.
Neither of them realized yet that this quiet moment between strangers, would one day mean everything.
A buff man stepped toward the five soldiers, cloak sweeping behind him.
“From this day on, I am your commander, and you will address me as such.”
They never ended up finding out his real name.
“Now follow me. I’ll show you to the barracks.”
⸻
[3 weeks later]
Fluixon no longer climbed the castle wall only to watch the city.
Now he watched the five boys train in the courtyard too.
When their quiet laughter warmed the grounds, Fluixon’s gaze would drift towards them and soften.
If you looked closely enough, the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.
Every once in a while one of them caught him staring.
They waved.
Fluixon waved back.
Small gestures.
It was painfully obvious the boy wanted to join their conversations, but he never did, always watching from afar.
One night the palace halls fell quiet.
Most of the royal guards slept in the barracks, armor resting beside their beds. Torches burned low along the corridors, their flames flickering against the stone walls.
Saparata was not asleep.
He should have been.
But the barracks felt suffocating that night.
Too loud.
Too full of strangers.
Too far from the open fields of Theria and the small house that once held everything he loved.
So he walked.
Soft footsteps echoed through the empty halls as he wandered without direction.
He knew he was not supposed to be out this late. But the palace was too big to feel like a prison if you kept moving.
Eventually the corridor opened onto the outer wall.
Cold night air embraced him.
And that was when he saw someone already there.
A boy perched on the stone wall, head rested back to look at the stars.
His dark hair shifted in the wind while the fancy suit jacket he always wore barely hung on his frame.
The boy glanced down at him.
The prince.
Saparata froze.
For a moment neither of them spoke. The wind moved through the stone corridor, tugging softly at their clothes.
“You’re not supposed to be out here.”
He said at last, voice carrying a faint teasing edge.
Saparata was freaking out, in no way was he gonna get in trouble his first month here.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” he said quickly while bowing as low as he could.
“I didn’t mean to disturb anything. I’ll return to the barracks right away.”
Fluixon watched him for a moment, then let out a quiet breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“You’re a little dramatic, it’s not like I’m allowed to be out here either." Then Fluixon tilted his head slightly.
"Just don’t tell father."
Saparata chuckled, though the sound came out softer than he meant it to.
“I wouldn’t,” he said quickly.
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Fluixon gave him a look, one brow lifting slightly.
“My secret?”
Saparata straightened a little, realizing how that sounded.
“I mean— not that it’s some great secret, just—” He stopped himself, ears warming.
“You know what I meant.”
To his surprise, Fluixon smiled.
Not the small, sharp kind he wore in the halls when Cynikka said something he hated. Something gentler. Younger.
“Relax, I’m not going to have you executed over poor phrasing.”
Saparata’s shoulders eased, and for the first time since stepping onto the wall, he looked at the prince properly instead of just at his boots.
The night air curled around them, cold and clean. Above them the stars stretched wide across the sky, dimmer than Theria’s, but still bright enough to make the stone glow silver at the edges.
Fluixon shifted on the wall, drawing one knee up.
“So,” he began,
“if you weren’t wandering the halls looking to expose royal misconduct, what are you doing here?”
Saparata smiled a little.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“That sounds boring.”
Saparata glanced at him. “Well I’m to disappoint you, Your Highness.”
“There you go again.”
Saparata blinked. “Going where?”
“That.” Fluixon waved a hand.
“The "Your Highness" every other sentence. It makes me sound ancient.”
Saparata looked almost offended.
“You are the prince. I’m not about to start calling you whatever I like.”
Fluixon tilted his head. “And what is it you’d call me, if you could?”
Saparata opened his mouth, then shut it again.
Fluixon’s mouth twitched.
“Thought so.”
A quiet laugh slipped out of Saparata before he could stop it.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The wind moved past them in soft bursts, carrying the far off sound of a guard changing post somewhere below.
Fluixon glanced sideways at him.
Then, after a pause, Fluixon moved slightly, enough to make room beside him on the stone.
It was a small gesture, but deliberate.
Saparata hesitated only a moment before climbing up, careful and a little stiff, like he was still half convinced someone would appear out of nowhere and tell him off for it.
The stone was cold beneath him. He sat with his hands in his lap at first, posture too straight, until Fluixon glanced at him.
“You sit like you’re meeting with a council.”
Saparata looked over. “I’m sitting normally.”
“You absolutely are not.”
“Sorry,” he said, though he was smiling. “I’m trying not to forget where I am.”
Fluixon looked back up at the stars.
“I am, this place sucks.”
The words were quiet. Casual, almost. But they landed heavily enough that Saparata turned to him.
Fluixon didn’t seem to notice he’d said anything strange. Or maybe he did, and simply didn’t care.
Saparata followed his gaze upward.
Back home, the stars had always looked closer somehow. Bigger. Like if he ran far enough through the fields, he might reach them.
“They look different in Theria,” he said after a while.
Fluixon glanced at him. “The stars?”
Saparata nodded. “Brighter. There’s less smoke, less light. Some nights the whole sky looks spilled over with them.”
Fluixon was quiet for a moment.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Saparata frowned slightly. “Have you not travelled to the countryside before?”
Fluixon shook his head. “Not even outside these walls.”
Something about how lightly he said it made Saparata’s chest tighten.
Fluixon looked at him then, properly, and for a second neither of them looked away.
There it was again, that strange feeling Saparata had gotten the first day in the hall. Like the prince was trying to understand something he had never been given.
Saparata broke the silence first, if only because it had suddenly become too heavy.
“So,” he said, with careful lightness,
“I catch you staring a lot. What has your… stalking taught you?”
Saparata deliberately dragged out ‘stalking’
“Observing" Fluixon had corrected.
Then with a small and wicked grin, he answered. "That your commander walks like the floor personally plucked back his hair line. And that Thomas guy, always complaining about something.”
Saparata laughed brightly, the sound warm enough to melt the ice at the bottom of an iceberg.
Fluixon felt good, too good, maybe, for such a strange night in such a strange place.
Fluixon watched him with that same unreadable look for a moment before speaking again.
“And you,” he said.
Saparata glanced over. “Me?”
Fluixon nodded. “You smile at people before you even know the kind of person they are.”
Saparata went still.
“That’s a very odd thing to say.”
“It’s true.”
Fluixon rested his chin briefly on his knee.
"You smiled at me in the hall on your first day. You didn’t know anything about me.”
Saparata looked down, suddenly shy.
“You looked lonely.”
The answer slipped out before he could stop it.
For a moment, Fluixon didn’t move.
The wind passed between them again, gentler this time.
Then he looked away and said, almost dryly, “That’s a terrible reason to smile at someone.”
Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was the stars. Maybe it was simply that there was someone to talk to.
Whatever it was, the cold did not feel as sharp anymore.
After a while, Fluixon said, “You can call me Flux.”
Saparata turned toward him. “I can?”
“If it gets you to stop saying ‘Your Highness’ every five seconds.”
He hesitated, just for a moment.
“Alright then…Flux.”
The name rolled easily of his toung. It made the prince sound less distant.
Fluixon looked faintly pleased, though he tried not to show it.
“And you’re Saps,” he said.
Saparata fiddled with high wings on his head. “You remembered.”
Fluixon looked almost offended. “I told you. I observe.”
Saparata laughed under his breath.
“So you really have been staring.”
Fluixon let out a dramatic sigh.
“I liked you better when you were frightened of me.”
“You mean ten minutes ago?”
“Yes.”
Saparata grinned, his smile reached his eyes. Then looked back up at the stars.
They sat there a while longer after that, shoulder to shoulder on the cold stone wall, saying little and not needing to.
It felt like they’ve know eachother’s soul for a life time.