"I heard the king will travel north soon," Elias said to Laurel as they walked to his office.
"Really? Where did you hear this from?"
"From a great informant of mine, of course."
Laurel scoffed. "By informant, you mean Anemone?"
Elias let out a cheeky grin, causing the vice-captain to shake his head. "So, why is he traveling all of a sudden?"
Elias sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Apparently, he thinks there's a cure out there."
Laurel raised his brows. "You mean for the ultimate warrior? Is there really something that can cure him? He's been asleep for almost two months now," he said solemnly.
They had all been there when Hael took his last breath, believing the guard to be dead. Elias could still recall the day like it was yesterday—Ceremus' devastated expression had shocked him. For the first time, Elias felt pity for the king. Then there were the horrified screams from Anthanasia. She had taken it the hardest, refusing to believe Hael was truly gone. Fortunately, she had been right. Hael wasn't dead—only trapped in a deep, unshakable slumber, his body still clinging to life.
For the past month, the king had tried everything to wake Hael. And the people of Trojas felt his pain. Hael was more than just a warrior; he was their hero, the man who had saved them from calamity. But beyond that, he was kind, selfless, and virtuous. They all hoped that one day, he would open his eyes again.
"It would be a miracle," Elias said, "but I hope he finds the cure—for all our sakes."
Everyone knew how hard Ceremus had taken his father's death. No one wanted history to repeat itself—not when the king was finally changing.
"How is Anthanasia doing?" Laurel couldn't help but ask.
Elias shook his head. "She's doing better now. According to Casper, she's back to hunting, which is a good sign."
Laurel nodded. "They were close, so it makes sense."
At that moment, the huntress walked through the doors of the private clinic, a place built specially to house Hael comfortably and safely.
Anthanasia approached the bed where Hael lay, her expression pained. No matter how many times she came to visit, it was never easy seeing him like this.
The once-powerful warrior, a man who had stood tall and unyielding, now looked small and lifeless. It broke her heart. "Why did you have to get yourself stabbed like that?" she whispered.
No response.
She let out a quiet sigh, then reached for the bowl of warm water she had brought with her, along with a cloth. Gently, she dabbed the damp cloth against his face, wiping away the thin layer of sweat. Once she finished, she grabbed some shaving lotion and a razor, carefully tending to the stubble forming on his jaw.
This had become her routine, a ritual she had clung to ever since she recovered from the initial shock of seeing him like this. She knew that wallowing in her grief would change nothing, so she poured her energy into something tangible—caring for him in the small ways she could.
It kept her sane.
After grooming his face, she moved on to his hair, carefully combing through the dark strands, removing any knots. Hael's hair was soft, silky—easier to manage than most. Once she was done, she braided it back to prevent future tangles.
An hour passed, and as always, this was the time when she talked to him about her day. She always made sure she had something to say. Keeping busy was the only way to keep herself from thinking too much.
"…Those twins caused me so much trouble. We barely made it out of the village without getting cursed out by the locals," she muttered, shaking her head with a small smile.
"I wish you were awake so I could tell you all of this in person… And Loki—I know he misses you a great deal. I'm sorry he couldn't be here." She sighed.
The door creaked open, and Anthanasia knew who it was without looking. She rose from her seat, bowing her head respectfully.
"So, you were here," the king said as he entered, his steps slow, deliberate. He cast her a brief glance before turning his attention to Hael. His gaze softened slightly upon seeing him well cared for.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she replied softly.
"How is he?" he asked.
Anthanasia shook her head. Ceremus sighed. This was their routine. Every time they met here, the king would ask the same question, hoping for a different answer. But each time, she had none to give.
Silence stretched between them before Ceremus finally spoke. "I will be leaving."
Anthanasia's head shot up. Her eyes widened. "Leaving?"
The king nodded. "I believe there's a cure for Hael out there, and I'm going to find it."
She didn't hesitate. "I'm going with you, Your Majesty. Please—let me come."
Ceremus paused, then shook his head. "No. You need to stay here."
"What—"
"Someone has to look after him while I'm gone, and you're the only person I trust with that task." His voice was firm, but his tone carried the weight of something deeper.
Anthanasia wanted to argue, to insist, but she stopped herself. There was no point. When the king made up his mind, no one could change it.
The king stood by Hael's bedside, his fingers brushing against his forehead, smoothing back a loose strand of hair. His broad shoulders—normally squared with authority—seemed to sag under the weight of his emotions. Anthanasia turned away, feeling as though she were intruding on something intimate.
She had realized something over the past nine weeks. Ceremus cared for Hael more than he let on.
At first, she thought it was simple—respect, admiration, perhaps even friendship. But then she noticed the subtle things. The way Ceremus lingered at Hael's bedside long after others had left. The way his gaze softened when he thought no one was watching. The way he brushed his fingertips over Hael's skin, careful, reverent.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
It wasn't just loyalty. It wasn't just duty.
It was love.
At first, the revelation had shocked her—not because the king had affections for a man, but because she had never imagined him capable of feeling something so deep for another person. The tyrant she had once feared had vanished. In his place stood a man desperate to save the one he cherished most.
Her pulse quickened as she watched him, as she took in the rare tenderness on his face. This wasn't the king she had known.
And seeing the lengths he was willing to go to save Hael made her smile.
Good for you, my dear friend, she thought. You've found someone who cherishes you more than I ever could. I couldn't be happier for you.
She exhaled softly. "I wish you luck on your journey, then," she said at last. "And don't worry—I will take good care of Hael while you're gone. I swear it."
Ceremus met her gaze, his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He let out a quiet breath, something like relief flickering in his eyes.
"Hm."