The sun dipped below the jagged mountains, its fading light casting the sky in brilliant streaks of red and orange, tinged with soft purples and pinks. The clouds had finally cleared, leaving a vast, painted sky above the quiet sea as the ship drifted steadily towards Westreach Port, still a quarter day away.

In the cramped cabin below deck, Oliver sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on K.J., who lay curled up on the opposite bunk. K.J.'s face was peaceful, softened by sleep, but there was a tension in his brow, a shadow of the exhaustion he carried. Oliver felt his heart twist—a quiet, persistent ache—for K.J, the quiet, withdrawn man who seldom trusted anyone. Yet, last night, K.J had become someone else. He'd become... something else.

Oliver's mind returned to the sight of K.J facing down Viperia, the monstrous serpent god itself, not with violence but with a touch, calm and certain, enough to soothe even a deity. His gaze drifted to the tattoo below K.J's navel—an intricate, swirling pattern that seemed alive, shifting and pulsing faintly with streaks of gold, white, deep purple, and black, like starlight caught in the night sky. It was beautiful, powerful, and just as mysterious as K.J. himself.

A faint groan broke the silence, and K.J.'s eyes fluttered open. He blinked, disoriented, his gaze landing on Oliver, who was still watching him. K.J tried to sit up, too quickly, and a wave of dizziness washed over him, making him sway. Oliver was beside him in an instant, his hand warm and steady on K.J.'s back, grounding him.

"Easy, K.J. Take it slow," Oliver murmured, his voice gentle, almost a whisper as if speaking louder might break the fragile moment.

K.J let out a sigh, pressing his palms to his eyes, his elbows resting on his knees as he struggled to shake off the remnants of sleep and the weight of his fatigue.

"Do...do you remember what happened last night?" Oliver asked softly, watching him with a mixture of concern and wonder.

K.J lowered his hands, his expression clouded. "A little. I remember...talking to Viperia, telling it to release something it held. After that...it's all a blur." He spoke as if unsure if it had all been real.

"Don't force yourself to remember," Oliver said, reassuring him with a soft smile. "You freed Viperia, whatever it was that had taken hold of it."

"Did I?" K.J murmured, his gaze dropping again. Unspoken words clung to his silence—the memory of the kiss they'd shared lingered in his mind, burning softly, but he couldn't bring himself to mention it. He wasn't sure what it had meant to Oliver, or even to himself.

Oliver leaned forward slightly, unable to mask his curiosity any longer. "How did you know Viperia wasn't...well, itself? That it was possessed?"

K.J hesitated, his eyes narrowing in thought. "I don't know exactly. It's this...feeling. I felt it in your room, that first night at the castle. There was this strange, icy wind, and it left me...uneasy. Then again with Drakard, and with those Dire Wolves. Each time, it's like a sickness in my stomach, a chill that runs down my spine. I can't explain it; I just know something's wrong."

Oliver's brows knitted with a new respect, his admiration deepening. "Maybe you have some instinct...or even an ability, to sense dark powers," he said, his voice tinged with awe.

"Maybe," K.J whispered, his voice fading. His mind drifted back, unbidden, to memories of his mother's face twisted with fear as they'd fled the black knights under a cold, ominous sky. "I felt it back then too...the night my mother and I ran."

"Mmm," Oliver murmured, leaning closer, his gaze never leaving K.J.

K.J's voice softened, tense with worry. "Is...is everyone else okay?"

"Yes, but..." Oliver hesitated, the words catching in his throat as he finally looked K.J. in the eye, a storm of emotions behind his gaze. "There's something else."

K.J felt a chill as Oliver's words sank in. "What is it?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Oliver's expression darkened, a mix of fear and fierce protectiveness. "K.J...I think someone is after you, trying to kill you because of your magic. Viperia called you...someone with the powers of Auralian and Umbra—the Sun and the Moon."

"But..." K.J.'s voice broke, his shoulders tense as a deep fear began to take hold. "Why? Why would I have both? It shouldn't even be possible for someone to wield both light and darkness." His breathing quickened, his heart pounding as panic threatened to consume him. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to steady himself. "It...it doesn't make any sense," he whispered, his eyes darting around the cabin as if searching for answers in the shadows.

Oliver reached out, his hand gentle on K.J.'s arm. "Breathe, K.J. We'll figure this out, I promise. You're not alone in this."

K.J looked at him, a storm of emotions in his eyes—fear, confusion, a flicker of hope. The warmth of Oliver's hand grounded him, steadying the chaos inside. For a brief moment, the world quieted, and all he could feel was Oliver's presence beside him, steady and unwavering.

Oliver quickly changed the subject, sensing K.J. drowning in the fear and confusion of being hunted for his magic. "Look, um, about last night..." he began, his voice soft yet searching.

K.J's shoulders relaxed slightly, his anxiety tempered by the shift. He turned away, moving to stand near the cabin door, not intending to leave but needing a little distance.

"K.J.!" Oliver's voice rose, edged with a mix of urgency and a raw tenderness that he could no longer keep hidden. The sound cut through the air, not loud enough to startle, but firm enough to make K.J. pause mid-step. There was a pleading note woven into Oliver's tone, as if he were reaching out, not just with his words but with every unspoken feeling he'd held back for so long.

K.J. stilled, his breath catching, and he turned slowly, glancing back over his shoulder. His expression softened, surprised by the intensity he saw reflected in Oliver's eyes. For a heartbeat, K.J. could feel the depth of what lay beneath that single call of his name—the quiet desperation, the longing, and the worry that pulsed just beneath Oliver's calm exterior. It was as if Oliver's voice alone held a promise, a reminder that he was right there, ready to stand by him through whatever shadows might come.

In that glance, K.J. felt the weight of his own hesitation lift just slightly, drawn by the unwavering strength in Oliver's gaze, and for the first time, he let himself believe in the possibility of letting someone truly see him.

Turning slowly to face him, K.J hesitated, then let out a breath. "I...I'm really grateful you're here for me, Oliver. I don't know what I'd do otherwise," he said, trying to find words that could convey the depth of his emotions. "But I still don't understand...why did you kiss me?"

Oliver shifted forward, his body leaning in as he sat on the edge of the bed, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose. His eyes found K.J.'s, and in that instant, he held nothing back. The vulnerability in his gaze was striking—a raw honesty that felt almost tangible, as if he were peeling back every layer he'd kept guarded, laying his heart bare.

"K.J.," he murmured, his voice low and unsteady, a flicker of nervousness woven through his words. "I've never felt anything like this before. Not with anyone." There was a tremor in his voice, a subtle quake that betrayed the courage it took to speak so openly. His jaw tightened, as though he were fighting to keep his emotions steady, but his eyes—those piercing, earnest eyes—told a different story.

They were filled with something fierce, something vulnerable and unguarded, as if he were silently begging K.J. to understand the depth of his feelings. He held K.J.'s gaze, refusing to look away, letting every unsaid word, every unexpressed feeling, pour out through his stare. The intensity of it was overwhelming, a confession in itself—a mixture of hope, longing, and the quiet fear that his feelings might go unreturned.

He swallowed, his throat tight, and for a moment, he looked as if he might reach out, his fingers twitching as if drawn to K.J. by an invisible thread. But he held back, letting the silence between them thicken, each second stretching out, heavy with anticipation.

The air between them grew electric, a fragile thread connecting them, alive with the shared, unspoken understanding. Oliver's face softened, a flicker of tenderness breaking through the intensity, and he allowed himself a small, vulnerable smile. "With you...everything feels different. Real," he whispered, his voice barely audible but brimming with meaning.

K.J.'s expression softened as he looked at Oliver, a hesitant vulnerability flickering in his eyes. After a long pause, he let himself settle onto the edge of the bed, his movements cautious, as if the weight of his doubts made each step uncertain. He glanced down, his fingers nervously twisting together, unable to shake the feeling that he was somehow out of place, a shadow in a space filled with light. "But...why me?" he whispered, his voice trembling with disbelief and self-doubt. "I'm just a commoner. A farmer. You're...you're royal, powerful. We don't belong in the same world."

He let the words hang in the air, each one laced with his fear and unworthiness. Deep down, he had always believed he was meant to remain in the background, invisible, undeserving of the kind of love that Oliver seemed to offer so freely. To him, Oliver was everything—light, grace, strength. How could he, a man so ordinary, someone with scars that ran far deeper than he let anyone see, ever be enough for a prince?

Oliver's gaze sharpened, his expression a mixture of frustration and raw emotion that seemed to pierce right through K.J.'s defenses. He leaned forward, his posture firm, his eyes never leaving K.J.'s. "Damn it, K.J," he said, his voice roughened by a quiet desperation. "My title doesn't matter."

There was an edge to his tone, a fierce determination that silenced K.J.'s doubts if only for a moment. Oliver's chest rose and fell as he took a steadying breath, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made K.J. feel as though he were the only person in the world. "I'm not going to defend this ridiculous idea that royals and commoners should be kept apart," he continued, each word spoken with a conviction that seemed to cut through the silence between them. "None of that has anything to do with how I feel about you."

With a tenderness that contrasted the intensity of his words, Oliver reached out, his hand hovering just above K.J.'s leg. It was a small, almost tentative gesture, but in it, K.J. felt a depth of vulnerability he hadn't anticipated. Oliver was offering him a piece of himself, an unspoken promise of connection, of understanding. But as soon as K.J. felt the warmth of Oliver's hand draw close, his instinct took over, and he flinched, pulling his leg away before he could even process the movement. His gaze fell to the floor, avoiding Oliver's eyes, shame washing over him.

Oliver's hand dropped to his side, and a flicker of hurt flashed across his face before he quickly masked it, his expression softening with concern. He remained quiet for a moment, studying K.J. with a tenderness that K.J. could feel, even without meeting his gaze.

"It's not the kiss, is it?" Oliver asked gently, his voice barely a whisper, thick with understanding and empathy. He knew—without needing K.J. to say it—that this was about something deeper, something rooted in the scars K.J. had tried so hard to bury. There was no frustration in his voice now, only a quiet compassion, an openness that told K.J. he could share whatever was weighing him down, and that Oliver would stand by him through it all.

K.J. clenched his hands tightly, feeling the familiar, suffocating weight of his past creeping in, filling the room like a shadow. His throat tightened, and his chest ached with the struggle to find words. He could feel Oliver's gaze on him, steady and patient, not pushing, but simply waiting, offering him a safe space to open up if he chose to. The air between them was thick with tension and yet filled with a warmth that soothed K.J. in a way he hadn't felt in years.

"I... I wish I could tell you it was just the kiss," K.J. murmured, his voice barely audible, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "But it's not. It's... it's everything that touch brings back, every memory, every feeling I thought I'd buried." His hands began to tremble as he spoke, and he gripped them tighter, as if holding on could somehow keep him from falling apart.

Oliver didn't move, didn't speak, but his expression softened, a quiet resolve filling his eyes. He wanted to reach out, to touch K.J. in a way that could reassure him, but he knew that this moment wasn't about forcing comfort; it was about allowing K.J. the space to finally let go, to be seen without judgment, without fear.

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with an unspoken understanding that neither of them dared to break. And in that silence, K.J. felt something shift—a glimmer of hope, fragile yet persistent, a feeling that perhaps, just maybe, he could let down his walls. He stole a glance at Oliver, and in the warmth of his gaze, he found a promise of safety, of acceptance that went beyond titles or expectations, beyond past wounds or future fears.

For the first time, K.J. felt the possibility of being loved not despite his scars, but because of them, and he allowed himself, just for a moment, to believe in a future where he didn't have to face his shadows alone.

K.J's silence was answer enough. He stared down, a single tear escaping his eye. He quickly brushed it away, but Oliver saw the haunted look, something deep and painful lurking beneath the surface.

Oliver swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he struggled to hold back the rush of emotions that had been building since the moment he first realized how much K.J. truly meant to him. "I spent all night wondering if I'd ruined everything between us," he admitted, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper, as if speaking any louder would expose the fragility of his heart. His gaze dropped briefly, the weight of his words pressing down on him, but he forced himself to look up, to meet K.J.'s eyes with the honesty he knew this moment demanded.

"This isn't about titles, K.J., or that I'm a prince and you're a courier," he continued, his voice steady but laden with a quiet intensity. "None of that matters to me right now. What I'm talking about... is us." He paused, allowing the word to sink in, letting its significance settle between them. There was a vulnerability in his expression, a glimmer of fear mixed with hope, and he could feel his heart pounding as he allowed himself to finally say what he'd been holding back.

Oliver took a slow, careful breath, as if steadying himself for a confession he had kept buried for far too long. "You're my friend, K.J. You've been there for me in ways no one else has, and I..." He hesitated, his voice catching, as a faint blush crept up his cheeks, coloring his skin. "You've been so much more to me, especially after that night by the river... when I held you, after pulling you from the water."

As he spoke, his mind drifted back to that night—the feel of K.J.'s cold, trembling body in his arms, the quiet, desperate fear that had clenched his heart as he'd cradled him close. K.J. had been so vulnerable, his guard shattered by the icy water and exhaustion. And in that moment, holding him close, feeling his shallow breaths against his chest, Oliver had realized how deeply he cared, how fiercely he wanted to protect K.J. from every hurt, every shadow that might try to claim him. The memory lingered, bittersweet and raw, and he looked away briefly, a hint of color warming his cheeks as he fought to steady his voice.

He swallowed again, gathering his courage, and his gaze softened as he looked back at K.J. "I'm right here, K.J. I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, his words filled with a quiet but unbreakable resolve. There was a gentleness in his eyes, a depth of feeling that seemed to reach out to K.J., wrapping around him like a silent promise. He wanted K.J. to know, beyond any doubt, that he wasn't alone—that whatever haunted his past, whatever fears held him back, Oliver would be there, beside him, for as long as he needed.

In that moment, he wished he could somehow convey everything he felt, every piece of his heart he was willing to offer. But he knew words would never be enough, so he simply sat there, close but not imposing, his presence steady, his gaze unwavering. He wanted K.J. to feel the truth of his words, to know that he wasn't just saying them—that he was ready to face anything, even the darkest shadows, just to stand by his side.

Oliver's breath caught slightly, his heart aching with the weight of his own vulnerability. He knew he was exposing himself, laying his emotions bare in a way that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. But as he looked at K.J., he saw a flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe, or the faintest glimmer of trust—and he felt a surge of warmth, a certainty that whatever happened, he would hold onto this moment, this connection, with everything he had.

"I'm here, K.J.," he repeated softly, his voice a tender echo. "And whatever you need... however long it takes... I'll be here. For you."

K.J took in Oliver's words, his gaze softening. He could see the truth in them, the warmth and sincerity that Oliver held for him. But the memory of that night in the cave—the cold, the way Oliver had wrapped his arms around him—brought something darker to the surface, something he wasn't sure he could share.

"You're right, it wasn't the kiss," K.J. said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, each word trembling with the weight of what he was holding back. He hesitated, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond Oliver, as though searching for the right words in the distance. "I was... surprised," he admitted, his voice faltering as a faint flush rose to his cheeks, memories of the moment surfacing in his mind. He drew a shallow breath, his fingers curling and uncurling in his lap as if grounding himself. "Yes... surprised," he repeated, almost to himself, as if trying to steady the confusion tangled with longing.

"But that's... that's not what bothers me." His voice softened even further, dipping into a vulnerable edge that felt raw, exposed. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and his expression clouded, as though he were facing something painful that he'd kept buried for too long. The admission lingered in the air between them, delicate and fragile, hinting at the deeper turmoil that lay beneath, yet not fully revealing the shadow that haunted him.

Oliver leaned in slightly, his expression tender and patient, his gaze steady yet soft. There was no rush in his posture, only an invitation for K.J. to continue, to speak freely if he wished. His eyes held a quiet understanding, like a calm shore waiting to catch whatever waves might come crashing. He kept his hands resting loosely at his sides, careful not to invade K.J.'s space, his body language open yet respectful.

"But...?" he prompted gently, his voice low and encouraging, barely more than a whisper. The single word was filled with a warmth that radiated reassurance, offering K.J. the freedom to share as much—or as little—as he was ready to give. Oliver's closeness was grounding, a gentle presence that seemed to say, I'm here, and I'll stay by your side, no matter what.

K.J took a breath, hesitating, then forced himself to meet Oliver's gaze. "Every time someone touches me...in certain ways, I freeze up. It's not hugs or small gestures, but if things ever went further between us...I'm scared, Oliver. Because there's something I can't get past."

Oliver's face softened with a mixture of concern and understanding. He could sense that whatever K.J. was about to reveal was painful, something heavy that he carried alone. "K.J., you can tell me. Whatever it is, I'm here."

K.J looked down, his hands twisting together as he struggled to find his voice. After a long, painful silence, he whispered, "When I was thirteen...I was...sexually assaulted." His words were barely audible, but they hung in the air like a weight.

Oliver's face fell, his heart shattering at the admission. "You...you were..." he stammered, his voice catching in his throat.

K.J. nodded, his head bowing as a wave of vulnerability washed over him. He couldn't bring himself to look up, his gaze locked on the floor as if it might anchor him against the storm of emotions swirling within. His hands trembled slightly, fingers curling and uncurling as he tried to steady himself. The faint tremors betrayed the fear and pain he was holding back, each movement a silent struggle to keep his composure. His breathing was shallow, barely audible, yet the quiet ache in his posture spoke volumes. For a moment, it was as if he was trying to disappear into the stillness, hoping it might swallow the weight of what he'd just revealed.

Oliver's eyes filled with tears, a profound sadness mingling with anger on K.J.'s behalf. Without a word, he sat across from K.J., keeping a respectful distance but close enough for K.J. to feel his presence. He wanted to reach out, to take K.J.'s hand or offer some kind of comfort, but he held back, respecting K.J.'s boundaries.

"I'm so sorry, K.J. I can't imagine..." Oliver's voice broke. "I just want you to know—you're safe with me. I would never hurt you. And whatever you need, I'll be here. If that means taking things slow, or...just being by your side as your friend...then that's what I'll do."

"I'm just worried," K.J. murmured, his voice trembling as he struggled to put words to the fear lodged in his heart. "If I...if I let myself feel this for you—if I let myself love you, kiss you, hold you, or someday make love to you—I'm terrified that I'll just...run. That I'll feel that horrible, suffocating darkness from before." He swallowed hard, looking away as his eyes began to glisten. "The touch, the smell, the pain—it's all still there. I don't want to flinch when you hold me, Oliver. I don't want to be afraid to love you." He paused, his voice breaking. "But every time you get close...I'm afraid those memories will come back."

His gaze dropped to the floor, shame and sorrow etched into his face. It took all his strength to even admit these things, and as the words spilled out, he braced himself for Oliver's reaction, for the inevitable distance that he feared might come between them.

But Oliver's face only softened further, a sadness deepening in his eyes, mingling with a fierce tenderness. He reached out, stopping just short of touching K.J.'s hand, giving him the space he needed. His voice was low and steady, as if he were speaking straight to K.J.'s heart. "K.J., if we take this step—if you let me in, even just a little—I swear I will never hurt you. I won't push you or rush you. I just want you to feel safe with me, to feel cherished."

Oliver paused, taking a breath, and his fingers twitched, aching to reach out but remaining steady. "We don't need to make love to prove anything between us," he continued. "I'll wait—through cycles of moons, as long as it takes. One day, when you're ready, it'll be worth it." His voice softened, almost a whisper. "But only when you're ready."

K.J. felt a warmth bloom inside him at Oliver's words, a spark of hope that cut through the dark cloud of his memories. Oliver shifted closer, his movement slow and careful, his breath brushing softly against K.J.'s skin as he drew near. A faint, earthy scent clung to Oliver—a hint of salt from the sea, mingled with something warm and familiar. K.J. closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling, letting that comforting scent fill him, trying to replace the shadows of his past with something gentler, something real.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into Oliver's, a piercing blue that seemed to see straight through every wall, every defense he'd built to protect himself. And yet...there was no pity, only a steady strength, a quiet promise that held him, tethered him.

Oliver didn't move closer, and he didn't touch him. He simply stayed there, close enough to feel his presence, but leaving K.J. all the space he needed to breathe, to process.

"I'm right here, K.J.," he murmured softly. "And I'll be here, waiting, for as long as you need."

K.J. felt his chest tighten, but this time, it wasn't out of fear. It was something else—a yearning for the safety Oliver offered, for the chance to rewrite his memories, to replace the shadows with warmth. But doubt still lingered, and his gaze flickered down, fear clawing at him again. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to let anyone...that close. What if I never can? What if I always pull away?"

Oliver's eyes softened even further, an understanding beyond words flickering there. "Then we take it one step at a time. One day at a time," he replied gently. "And if you ever need to pull away, I'll be here when you come back. No matter what, I'm not leaving."

For a moment, K.J. could only look at him, the sincerity of Oliver's words sinking deep into his soul. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, and this time, he didn't try to hide it. There was something profoundly comforting in Oliver's presence, something steady and real. The weight of his past didn't feel quite so heavy, and in that moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could find healing here, with Oliver.

Oliver's own face softened, a gentle smile curving his lips as he met K.J.'s gaze, his eyes reflecting a fierce, unwavering promise. And in that quiet, sacred space between them, they sat together, hearts open, each finding solace in the other's presence as they allowed hope to settle, soft and unhurried, into the cracks of old wounds.

"Sir Oliver?" came a voice from the doorway, low and laced with concern. Captain Rek stood there, his rugged face shadowed in the dim cabin light, his brow furrowed with worry. The urgency in his tone caught Oliver's attention, snapping him out of the intimate moment. Oliver turned, eyes narrowing as he took in the captain's expression—something was clearly wrong.

"You need to come see this," Rek said, his voice rough, each word carrying a weight that made Oliver's chest tighten.

Oliver exchanged a quick, questioning glance with K.J., feeling a flicker of unease ripple between them. Without hesitation, he stood, his posture shifting from vulnerable friend to resolute leader. K.J., noticing the change, silently fell into step beside him, his own curiosity and concern mirrored in his expression. As they moved toward the door, Oliver felt the familiar steadiness of K.J. at his side, a grounding presence even in the face of looming uncertainty.