The palace was asleep.
Moonlight slipped through the half-open balcony doors and painted silver across the floorboards. Star lay on his back in the vast royal bed, one arm flung above his head, the other curled protectively over the thick scar that now lived just below his collarbone. The wound no longer hurt when he breathed, but sometimes, in the dark, it ached like a memory that refused to fade.
Elandor was not beside him.
Star found him on the balcony, barefoot, wearing only loose linen trousers, forearms braced on the stone balustrade. The king's silhouette cut sharp against the city lights far below: shoulders still carrying the weight of a crown even when the crown itself lay forgotten on the nightstand.
Star padded across the cool marble and slipped his arms around Elandor from behind, pressing his chest to the king's back, cheek between warm shoulder blades. Elandor's breath stuttered, then settled.
"Thought you were asleep," Elandor murmured.
"Couldn't," Star answered against his skin. "Bed's too big without you."
Elandor turned in the circle of his arms. Moonlight carved hollows beneath his eyes; he looked younger and older all at once.
"I keep waiting," he said, voice barely louder than the night wind, "for the moment I wake up and you're gone. That the arrow took you after all. That the prophecy decided it wanted its price in the quiet instead of the storm."
Star's heart cracked open at the confession. He had never heard Elandor admit fear so plainly, not even when blood poured between their joined palms on that fortress balcony.
"I'm here," Star whispered. He took Elandor's right hand—the one with the matching scar—and laid it over his own heartbeat. "Feel. Still stubborn. Still yours."
Elandor closed his eyes, fingers trembling against Star's chest. "I close my eyes and I see it again. The arrow. The way you smiled right before you fell. Like you were saying goodbye."
Star swallowed the lump in his throat. "I wasn't. I was saying see you on the other side of this. I knew I'd fight my way back. For you."
Elandor's forehead dropped to Star's, breath shaking. "I have commanded armies. I have sentenced men to death. I have worn this crown since I was eighteen and never once let anyone see me break. But watching you bleed out in my arms… I shattered, Star. I have never been so small."
The raw honesty undid Star. Tears rose hot and sudden. He pressed closer until there was no space left between them, until he could feel Elandor's heart hammering against his own.
"I was so scared," Star confessed into the hollow of Elandor's throat, words he had never spoken aloud. "When the arrow hit, my first thought wasn't pain. It was please let me live long enough to tell him I love him one more time. I thought I'd used up all my chances."
Elandor made a broken sound and pulled back just enough to cup Star's face with both hands. Moonlight caught the wet tracks on the king's cheeks.
"You will never run out of chances," he said fiercely. "Not if I have to defy the gods themselves."
Then he kissed Star like it was the first time and the last time all at once: slow, deliberate, tasting salt and terror and gratitude. It was not about desire; it was about anchoring two souls that had almost been torn apart.
When they parted, foreheads still touching, Elandor spoke against Star's lips.
"I keep thinking I don't deserve you. That I stole you from a simpler life."
Star shook his head. "You didn't steal me. You found me. I was waiting, Eli. Even when I didn't know it. Every quiet night on the farm, every time I looked at the stars and felt something missing… I was waiting for you to come back and keep our promise."
Elandor's breath hitched again. He sank to his knees right there on the cold balcony, wrapping his arms around Star's waist and pressing his face to Star's stomach like a man seeking absolution.
Star threaded fingers through dark hair, holding him close.
"I'm not going anywhere," Star said, voice thick. "Not prophecy, not war, not death. You're stuck with this farmer for good."
Elandor laughed: wet, broken, healed all at once. He turned his face up, eyes shining.
"Promise me," he whispered.
Star dropped to his knees too so they were eye to eye, hands linked over matching scars.
"I promise," he said. "Every morning I wake up breathing, I'm choosing you. Every night I fall asleep beside you, I'm choosing you. There is no version of forever that doesn't have you in it."
Elandor kissed him again, softer now, reverent. When they finally stood, legs shaky, they didn't go back to the grand bed. They curled together on the wide balcony chaise instead, wrapped in a single blanket, city lights glittering below like fallen stars.
Star fell asleep first, cheek against Elandor's heartbeat.
Elandor stayed awake a little longer, fingers tracing the scar he would never stop feeling guilty for, lips brushing Star's hair with every breath.
He whispered into the dark, so quietly only the night could hear:
"Thank you for coming back to me."
And for the first time since the trumpet sounded over a quiet farm, Elandor slept without dreaming of loss.