Later that evening.
Thoris paused outside the double doors of the master suite, taking a deep, steadying breath. Downstairs, Kael had gone out of the estate gates. And behind the heavy oak doors ahead, the silence was far too quiet—the calm before a very loud, very dramatic storm.
Thoris turned the brass handle and pushed the door open.
The master suite looked like a theater stage set for a grand tragedy. All the velvet curtains had been drawn shut, plunging the vast room into moody, flickering candlelight.
And there was Adrian.
Adrian was sprawled dramatically across the chaise lounge near the hearth, one arm draped over his forehead as if struck by a sudden, fatal weakness. His long velvet cloak was still wrapped around him, casting a dark silhouette against the firelight. He didn't even look up as the door clicked shut.
Instead, his teeth ground together as his eyes remained closed behind his arm.
"If you have come to apologize for how you treated me earlier, then you better think again and leave me alone in these chambers."
Adrian spoke, his voice dropping into a low, wounded monotone that dripped with theatrical despair.
"And I wouldn't want my absurd presence to ruin the rest of your afternoon."
Thoris closed the door behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms. A small, exhausted smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though he fought to keep his expression firm.
"Adrian."
"Don't 'Adrian' me,"
Adrian snapped, throwing his arm off his face and sitting up with astonishing speed for an eight-months-pregnant man. His eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated fury as he glared across the room.
"You dismissed me! Right in front of that—... that mountain goat you used to know!"
Thoris nearly chuckled, but he kept his expression in check for the sake of not losing his head.
"Kael is a former border captain, not a mountain goat,"
Thoris corrected gently, stepping into the room and walking toward the lounge.
"And I did not dismiss you. I asked you politely to let us finish our conversation because you were about to physically attack a guest on our front lawn, my love."
"He put his hand on your shoulder! If that's what you knights usually do across those borders then I'd rather you stopped being a knight at all!"
Adrian declared, standing up and sweeping his arm through the air as if pointing to an invisible court of law.
"I saw how his fingers were practically tracing your neck! He was sitting so close to you that your knees were practically aligned! And what did you do? You smiled at him! You gave him my smile!"
"It was a polite smile, Adrian!"
"Oh, so you do admit that his fingers were all over your neck after all?"
Silence.
Thoris sighed, stopping right in front of him.
"My Prince, I haven't seen the man in five years. We were catching up on old garrison stories."
"Yet you told me to leave!"
Adrian's voice cracked with dramatic indignation, his hand coming down to rest over his heavily rounded stomach as if to shield their unborn child from the betrayal.
"You said to me, 'Sweetheart, please excuse us and go inside to rest'—which is universal code for 'Get out of my sight so I can flirt in peace'!"
Thoris stared at him for three long seconds, completely speechless at the absolute leaps in logic. Then, despite trying to hold back, a soft laugh escaped his chest.
Adrian gasped, looking deeply offended. "You are laughing? I am bleeding from the heart, Thoris, and you are laughing?"
"He was touching you,"
Adrian muttered softly, the sharp fury in his voice melting into raw, possessive insecurity.
"And now you are touching me," Thoris replied softly, leaning up to press a lingering, warm kiss to Adrian's jawline, right below his ear.
"And you will be touching me for the rest of the night. If your back survives it."
Adrian let out a low growl, his arms finally wrapping around Thoris's shoulders, pulling him flush against his chest and his rounded belly. He buried his face deep into the nape of Thoris's neck, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent that instantly quelled the wildfire in his chest.
But then he immediately stopped realizing Thoris's attempt to silence him.
The heavy oak double doors of the master suite banged open once more, the dramatic truce dissolving in less than two minutes.
"Don't try to kiss your way out of this, Thoris!"
Adrian's booming voice echoed down the vaulted stone hallway, his dramatic flair reigniting with full force as he marched out of the bedroom. He had his hands on his hips, his heavily pregnant frame practically radiating indignant heat.
"You dismissed me like a servant! In front of a man wearing a terrible cloak! Was it because he had blonde hair too and he looked even more handsome than I am?"
"You are the only golden son that blinds me, Adrian!"
Thoris shouted back, striding out right behind him with his arms raised in utter disbelief.
"And I did not dismiss you! I asked for five minutes of peace so you wouldn't impale an innocent man on our decorative lawn ornaments!"
"He was all over you! A married man, my man!"
"He looked at you just like how most of the noble women look at you when I am not looking. I could never mistake those kind of lingering eyes anywhere!"
Adrian spun around on the landing of the grand staircase, sweeping his velvet cloak over one shoulder with tragic, theatrical precision.
"My heart is wounded, Thoris! Wounded!"
Right at that exact second, the massive front doors of the estate swung open with a resounding.
*THUD.*
A gust of sharp, cold steppe wind rushed into the foyer, carrying with it the heavy smell of the Steppes, leather, and iron.
Standing in the entryway, flanked by two towering guards bearing the iron dragon crest, was Elyria. She wore her dark traveling robes, her silver-streaked hair pulled back tightly, and her warm eyes sweeping over the grand foyer expectantly. Beside her stood Vikra, broad-shouldered and imposing, casually unbuckling his broadsword sheath as if he owned the place.
They both froze, looking up at the grand staircase.
On the landing above, Adrian was mid-gesture, one hand clutching his rounded belly and the other pointing a dramatic, accusing finger down at Thoris, who was currently rubbing his temples in absolute exhaustion. On the second-floor balcony across from them, nineteen-year-old Caelen stood holding five-year-old Seli, who was happily munching on an apple.
And silence hung over the foyer for three agonizing seconds.
Elyria slowly raised one eyebrow, her gaze lingering on Adrian's heavily pregnant state and dramatic posture before shifting to Thoris's defeated expression.
"Well,"
Elyria spoke, her soft voice cutting through the quiet.
"I was not expecting to find the Count of the estate being held hostage by his own dramatic husband."
Vikra let out a rumbling, deep bark of laughter, leaning against the doorframe as he tossed his leather gloves onto the entry table.
"I told you we should have sent a runner first, Elyria letting them know that instead of tomorrow we would arrive today. You know how Adrian gets when he's carrying. He's more dangerous than any mountain troll."
Adrian's jaw dropped. He straightened his spine instantly, glaring down at the new arrivals from the top of the stairs. He declared with supreme dignity, though his cheeks flushed slightly.
"I am simply maintaining boundary control on my own property!"
"You were yelling about shoulders, mountain goats and ugly cloaks from thirty feet away, Dad," Caelen chimed in dryly from the balcony, taking a bite of Seli's apple.
"We could hear you in the kitchen."
"Traitor, If you had seen what your father did then you would understand why I am deeply wounded like this."
Adrian muttered under his breath and Thoris let out a long, heavy breath, stepping past Adrian down two steps to offer a polite, welcoming nod to their guests.
"Elyria. Vikra. Forgive the... chaotic welcome. As you can see, the estate is currently undergoing an emotional storm."
"Clearly," Elyria replied smoothly, stepping into the foyer and letting her heavy cloak slip off her shoulders into a servant's hands. She looked up at Adrian, a slight, rare smirk touching her lips.
"Are you going to invite us in, Adrian? Or do we need to schedule an appointment with your dramatic calendar?"
Adrian scoffed, though the fierce jealousy from earlier finally began to settle into minor, grumbling defeat. He smoothed down his velvet tunic over his belly, taking Thoris's offered hand as they descended the rest of the stairs together.
"You're already inside," Adrian grumbled, keeping his hand wrapped firmly, possessively around Thoris's fingers in front of everyone.
"Just make sure neither of you touches my husband's shoulder. I'm taking names today."
Vikra chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped forward to greet them.
"Good to see you too, Adrian. It's been so long."
***
The grand dining hall was filled with the rich aroma of roasted venison, spiced root vegetables, and fresh hearth-baked bread. A fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace, casting a warm glow over the long oak table, but the atmosphere inside was anything but quiet.
At the head of the table sat Thoris, looking thoroughly relieved that the day's earlier tempest had finally settled into manageable chaos. Sitting right beside him—practically glued to his side—was Adrian. Even while holding a fork, Adrian kept one leg firmly pressed against Thoris's under the table, his free hand resting possessively over Thoris's thigh. He made a deliberate point of buttering a warm piece of bread and placing it directly onto Thoris's plate with an overly sweet, dramatic smile aimed at no one in particular.
"Here, my heart," Adrian said, his voice dripping with loud, exaggerated affection.
"Eat the bread I buttered for you and just remember who actually takes care of you the most before you even think of searching for someone else outside this manor."
Thoris pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile.
"Thank you, Adrian. Indeed it was my mistake for not realising who takes care of me and loves me the most."
Across the table, Vikra shook his head turning to look at Elyria.
'My wife, just what kind of menace is this.'
Elyria merely shrugged already knowing what was on Vikra's mind. And Vikra let out a sigh turning to look at Adrian.
"By the gods, Adrian, you haven't changed a bit! Last time I saw you in the royal palace, you nearly started a war because a messenger stood two inches too close to Thoris during a treaty signing!"
"That messenger had untrustworthy eyes and zero concept of personal space,"
Adrian replied smoothly, taking a slow sip of fruit tea.
"I was merely protecting my children's future."
"You threw a silver dagger into her boots!" Elyria reminded him dryly from the seat next to Vikra. She casually cut a slice of meat, her eyes twinkling with rare concern.
"The poor lady ran back to the northern encampment without her footwear."
"Yet it was still effective,"
Adrian declared, completely unbothered. "She never stood too close again."
At the lower end of the table, Caelen was currently using his fork like a shield, blocking Seli from flinging a roasted carrot across the table at Vikra's gleaming iron armor.
"Seli, no," Caelen warned under his breath.
"Uncle is a warlord. He will throw a bigger carrot back at you."
"I want to see the big sword!" Seli giggled, bouncing up and down in his high-backed chair, his hair flopping into his eyes. He pointed a greasy finger toward Vikra's side.
"Uncle Vikra, show me the dragon sword!"
"Seli, eat your greens first," Thoris chimed in gently from the head of the table.
"If he eats his greens, I'll let him hold the pommel after dinner," Vikra offered with a broad grin, winking at the little boy. And Seli immediately stuffed two broccoli florets into his mouth, chewing vigorously with puffing cheeks, causing Caelen to groan and bury his face in his hands.
"You're enabling him," Caelen muttered. "Now he's going to demand a broadsword for his sixth birthday."
"And he shall have one!" Adrian declared grandly, leaning over to rest his head dramatically on Thoris's shoulder, his hand sliding down to clasp Thoris's fingers tightly above the tablecloth. The whole fuming jealousy from earlier already dissolved. And Thoris didn't seem to mind, after all he was used to it.
"A miniature steel blade forged in the eastern armory! Only the best for our youngest!"
"Absolutely not," Thoris said firmly, though his hand squeezed Adrian's fingers right back under the table.
"He gets wooden practice swords until he is at least ten."
Elyria raised her glass toward the couple, her expression softening with genuine warmth.
"Well, despite the dramatic entrance and the lingering jealousy, it is good to see you both looking so well. The estate is... lively."
"Lively is one word for it,"
Caelen muttered, reaching over to wipe a spot of gravy off Seli's cheek.
"But disgustingly affectionate is another."
Adrian glared playfully across the table at his eldest son and Thoris smirked.
"You'll understand when you're older, Caelen. Love requires constant... vigilance."
"If vigilance means territorial growling at visiting border captains who mean to harm, I think I'll stay single,"
Caelen replied, earning a round of hearty laughter from the entire table as the servant poured fresh cider into their cups and the rest of the warm night unfolded on its own.
*****