"Don’t, Lucien. I will be fine." 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

The Duke’s brows narrowed. What did he mean by that?

"I will stay," Julian whispered, his voice steady despite the [Mental Stability] warning flashing 35% in his vision.

"Then I stay too," Alaric added, turning a lethal glare back to the throne balcony. "I will occupy the guest chambers. If he stays, I stay."

Julian reached out, his fingers catching the edge of Alaric’s coat. He shook his head slowly. If they stayed together in the palace, Aurelian’s obsession would only reach a boiling point. The Emperor would spend every waking second scheming to tear them apart. But if Alaric was outside, he would just be a threat—a sword hanging over the Palace.

I have to survive seven days, Julian thought. If you are here, he will break me just to watch you crumble.

"Go, Lucien," Julian murmured, his eyes pleading. "Take Lucius home. He needs to know he hasn’t ruined everything. And I... I need to know you are safe beyond these walls. I cannot be the one to bring you down."

"Julian," Alaric looked like he was being flayed. He glanced at the crying boy, then back at Julian’s bruised, bitten lip—a mark of the Emperor’s filthy act.

He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to. No, he will not go with it. He will steal Julian home at this very moment. The thought of leaving him felt like a death sentence.

But Julian, sensing the thoughts going through the Duke’s mind, gripped his hand even tighter.

Please. His eyes pleaded, and Alaric bit the inside of his mouth. He hated it. He didn’t want to, but Julian... Julian had made up his mind.

The silence in the courtyard was brittle, held together only by the desperate pressure of Julian’s hand against Alaric’s.

High above, Aurelian’s scowl deepened, his golden eyes narrowing at the sight of their intertwined fingers. The intimacy of the gesture—the way Alaric leaned into Julian’s touch as if it were his only anchor—was a blatant defiance that made the Emperor’s blood turn to ice.

Julian looked up, his face pale but his expression hardening with his resolve. He released Alaric’s hand and stepped forward, placing himself between the Duke and the balcony.

"Your Majesty," Julian’s voice rang out, steady and clear despite the [Mental Stability] warning still flickering at the edge of his vision. "I accept. I shall take responsibility for the Young Lord’s errors. I will stay in the Jade Wing and serve whatever punishment or confinement the Crown deems fit to rectify this lapse in etiquette."

Alaric’s breath hitched—a sharp, pained sound. He looked at Julian as if he were watching his man walk into a furnace. You don’t understand, Alaric wanted to scream. You can’t breathe here. The air is poisonous. Please, Julian. Just say the word, and I will take you out of here right now, and no one can stop us.

But Julian did not look back. He kept his gaze fixed on Aurelian, his chin tilted just enough to show he wasn’t broken... yet.

Aurelian’s scowl smoothed out into a slow, chilling smile. It was the look of a victor who had finally cornered his prize.

"A commendable display of accountability, Master Astrea. It is a pity the Duke does not share your... sense of propriety," Aurelian mused, his eyes tracking the way Julian stood his ground. He was about to call for him to be taken in when Julian spoke again.

"May I be bold to ask, Your Majesty," Julian began, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the courtyard, "how long am I to be confined for?"

Inside, Julian’s mind was doing all sorts of calculations. An indefinite sentence was a death warrant—not just for his own sanity, but for Alaric’s restraint. If there was no end date, the Duke wouldn’t wait for a diplomatic miracle; he would strike as soon as he got tired of waiting, and the resulting massacre would swallow them all. He needed a deadline, a tether to keep the Duke from snapping.

Aurelian looked at him a little puzzled as to what this piece was trying to do, and then he saw it. He laughed and said,

"Bold indeed to ask for terms given it is your punishment, but regardless, I can at least set a time frame. You know it is seven days until the Masquerade Ball, right? Let us say that until then, you shall be my guest. Seven days of reflection should be more than enough to contemplate the weight of your... failures."

The Emperor waved a dismissive hand toward the Golden Guards.

"Rowan, see to it that the Master is returned to his quarters. And Brother... do take the boy home. He must need to rest, given how much he is crying. Give him a lot of sweets. You know you’ve always liked sweets."

The mention of the sweets sent a fresh wave of loathing through the Duke’s expression. But Alaric’s eyes never left Julian. He looked at the man he loved, now officially a prisoner to his mad brother, and there was nothing he could do. He clenched his fists, his expression a mix of rage, fear... and agony.

The ’Golden Cage’ quest in Julian’s peripheral vision shifted, the timer beginning its slow, relentless countdown.

> [Quest: The Golden Cage — Remaining Time: 6 Days, 20 Hours, 02 Minutes]

> [Sub Objective: Survive the first night in the Palace]

This doesn’t mean assassins will come for me tonight, right? I’m scared. He bit his lips but knew he had to stay strong, at least in front of the Duke.

Alaric stood frozen as the Imperial guards stepped forward to escort Julian away. He watched as Julian was led back toward the heavy doors of the Jade Wing, his heart feeling as though it were being physically torn from his chest.

"Seven days," Alaric murmured, the words sounding like a low, lethal vow that reached Julian just before the doors closed. "I am counting every second, Julian. If you are not released by the time the ball ends, the Empire will bleed."

The heavy doors slammed with a heavy thud. The sound echoed through the courtyard like a death knell.

Julian was alone. The silence of the room rushed in to meet him, cold and suffocating. He leaned his back against the door, reminiscing, trembling, and finally sobbing. He didn’t know he would feel like this, but he already missed him. He missed the Duke, and knowing he wouldn’t see him while enduring his madness for seven days made it much worse.

Slowly, he slid down the door, his cry muffled in his palm. To think a grown man like him could cry like a child... He couldn’t care less.

After all, they say only those who hold something dear in their hearts are bold enough to shed tears.