"Just get ready to go to sleep, Julian," Alaric whispered and didn’t wait for Julian to stand before leaning down, his large frame covering the desk.

Then, he hooked one arm behind Julian’s back and the other beneath his knees, lifting him with ease as if he were made of paper.

Julian let out a small, startled breath, his hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Alaric’s robe. How could the Duke walk around the manor while carrying him in his arms?

But those words never came out.

He was too tired to protest the loss of dignity. So, he simply let his head fall against the Duke’s shoulder, his eyes slipping shut as the steady heat of Alaric’s body finally began to dampen the jagged frequency in his brain.

"I have you," Alaric murmured, his voice vibrating against Julian’s temple. "Just breathe, and I’ll take care of the rest."

The doors to the room swung open, and the Duke laid Julian down on the sheets with a gentleness that bordered on reverence.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and he uncocked the dark glass of the vial.

As soon as it opened, the medicinal scent of valerian and mountain herbs filled the small space between them.

Alaric slipped his large hand behind Julian’s neck, supporting the weight of his head up with a tenderness that felt almost painful for Julian to bear.

"Open your mouth," Alaric commanded, his voice a low, soothing vibration. "I’ll feed it to you,"

Julian didn’t resist. He parted his lips, his gaze locked onto Alaric’s as the Duke tilted the vial. The liquid was thick and bitter, a trail of herbal fire that hit the back of Julian’s throat before turning into a heavy, numbing cold as it reached his stomach. Alaric waited until every drop was gone, his thumb catching a stray, dark bead of the sedative from the corner of Julian’s mouth.

The effect was almost instantaneous. It caused Julian’s vision to swim lightly, his body’s will fading, and his mind shutting down.

"Lu-cien," he could barely call out, and Lucien grabbed his hand.

"Hush now and don’t worry. I’ll be here when you wake up."

Julian didn’t say anything as his eyelids grew heavier and fluttered shut, but he wished that Alaric wouldn’t be here when he woke up. He wished the Duke... would not come to know of his madness.

As Julian’s hand went limp in Alaric’s grasp, the silence of the room became absolute.

Alaric didn’t move. He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at Julian’s pale face. He watched the way Julian’s breathing finally leveled out, no longer the frantic, shallow gasps of a man drowning on dry land. The Duke’s thumb traced the back of Julian’s knuckles, his expression shifting from a fierce, protective focus to something much more somber.

He knew Julian was hiding something. He could feel the wall Julian had built—not out of a lack of love, but out of a desperate, clawing fear.

"Sleep," Alaric whispered, his voice barely audible. "Whatever you’re afraid of... I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me," he brought Julian’s knuckle to his lips and kissed it. "But don’t think for a second I’ll let you fight it alone. Since the moment you became mine, your woes became my woes."

The Duke manned his position and began to watch Julian.

One hour passed, then three, then six. The sedative was doing its work with terrifying efficiency. Too terrifying because in all this time, Julian did not stir.

At several points, the silence became so absolute that Alaric felt a prickle of dread climb up his spine. He would lean over, pressing his large, warm hand against Julian’s chest, waiting until he felt the faint beating of a heart against his palm. And only then would he exhale, a long sigh of relief escaping his lungs.

Around midnight, Alaric finally succumbed to exhaustion, resting his head on the edge of the mattress beside Julian’s hip.

And then finally, a shift happened.

Julian’s body bolted upright. The movement was fluid, lacking the usual morning stiffness or the sluggishness of someone heavily drugged.

Alaric snapped awake instantly as he felt an eerie feeling run down his spine, his hand moving toward the dagger on the nightstand before he realized it was Julian.

But the man sitting up didn’t look like the Julian who was trying to smile at all times and keep a friendly gait with his students. He didn’t look like the exhausted man who had succumbed instantly to the sedative either. His posture was rigid, his head tilted at an odd, inquisitive angle as he looked down at his own hands.

"What did this busybody do to our body?"

The voice was Julian’s, yet the cadence was entirely wrong—sharper, colder, and laced with a strange, detached amusement.

Alaric froze. A cold, uncomfortable sensation washed over him—the same inexplicable instinct he had felt once before, a Primal warning that something was fundamentally ’off.’ This didn’t feel like a nightmare or a bout of sleepwalking.

"Julian?" Alaric called out, his voice low and cautious.

The figure froze. Slowly, with the mechanical precision of a predator, he turned his head to look at the Duke. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips—a look far too calculated for the gentle scholar Alaric knew.

"Ah," the voice murmured. "We meet again."

Alaric’s brow furrowed in deep confusion.

"Again? Julian, what are you talking about? You’re not making sense."

Before Alaric could reach for him, the man sighed, the tension suddenly leaving his shoulders. He began to fall back onto the pillows, his eyes already fluttering shut as if the effort of staying awake was a chore he no longer wished to perform.

"I can’t get anything done with this body," he muttered into the darkness, his voice fading. "So I might as well sit it out." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Alaric leaned forward, grabbing Julian’s shoulders before he could fully drift off. The Duke’s heart was hammering against his ribs. He looked into those eyes, searching for the man he loved, but finding only a void.

"You!" Alaric’s voice went hard with certainty, and he glared. "You’re not Julian,"

The man opened one eye, flashing a sudden, sharp grin that sent a chill straight to Alaric’s marrow.

"That’s where you’re wrong," he whispered, the mockery clear in his tone. "I am... Julian Von Astrea."