Chapter 26

By the time William stirred, Est was already up.

He stood by the window, back half-turned, shirt loose over his shoulders, hair slightly mussed. The early light made his skin glow faintly gold, casting long shadows over the curve of his neck.

He didn’t turn when he heard William move.

Didn’t speak.

William sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes, a soft yawn escaping him before he registered the silence.

“…Morning.”

Est glanced over his shoulder. His expression was unreadable.

But his voice was gentle.

“Morning.”

William stretched, then blinked at him, something wary flickering behind his sleep-heavy gaze. “You’re up early.”

“I didn’t sleep well,” Est said, turning back to the view. “You?”

William hesitated. “Eventually.”

Est hummed. Noncommittal. Not cold, not distant – but quieter than usual.

And not looking at him.

William got up, crossed the room barefoot, and came to stand just behind him.

“You okay?”

Est nodded. “Just tired.”

But his arms didn’t reach back like they usually did.

He didn’t lean in.

And William… didn’t press.

Not yet.

Instead, he wrapped his arms lightly around Est from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry if last night was frustrating,” he murmured. “I just… I want to get this right.”

Est swallowed.

His body tensed just slightly, then relaxed.

He nodded again.

“I know.”

But he still wouldn’t look at him.

And William still didn’t know – couldn’t know – that Est had heard everything.

Had seen it all.

That he hadn’t been angry.

Only shaken.

Because last night, for the first time, it hadn’t felt like a game anymore. Not a test, not a tug-of-war between want and restraint.

It had felt real.

William had wanted him so much he broke his own rules – in secret, in the dark, whispering his name like a prayer. And an apology.

And Est didn’t know how to carry that.

Not yet.

But when William kissed his shoulder softly and pulled away to dress, Est finally turned.

Just enough to watch him go.

His heart ached in his chest.

And all he could think was –

You fool. Brave, stupid, beautiful fool.

How am I supposed to stop falling now?

—–

The change wasn’t loud.

It came in glances that lingered longer than they should. In the way Est curled into William’s lap a little easier, let his hands linger over William’s pulse like he was trying to memorize it. In the way his teasing quieted, slowly, night after night, replaced by silence that felt… heavier. More real.

He still kissed him. Still let his fingers wander just enough to feel William’s breath hitch. But the push wasn’t the same anymore. It didn’t come from defiance.

It came from want. And fear. And the slow, dawning ache of hope.

Because William – damn him – was consistent.

He didn’t treat Est like glass. He joked and teased and held him like before. But every time Est’s touches turned more suggestive, William smiled softly and pulled back – never harsh, never cold – always with that same frustrating tenderness that made Est want to believe him and run from it in equal measure.

“Stop being so good to me,” Est mumbled one night, face half-buried in William’s chest.

William’s fingers curled into his hair. “You deserve it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m learning.” He kissed Est’s forehead. “Every day.”

Est didn’t reply. He just shut his eyes and held him tighter.

Another night, when William kissed him with aching slowness and then stopped before either of them got too carried away, Est stared at him – not angry, not pouting, just… confused. Almost a little undone.

“You really mean to do this whole month?”

William nodded. “Unless you tell me to stop.”

Est was quiet.

He didn’t say anything. But the next morning, when William stirred awake, Est was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out toward the balcony.

The sunrise caught the edges of his face – softening his jaw, turning his hair to fire. William reached for him sleepily and murmured, “What’re you thinking?”

Est glanced over his shoulder.

His voice was quiet. “That I might actually start believing you.”

William smiled. Sleepy. Hopeful.

“Then it’s working.”

Est didn’t come back to bed right away. But when he did, he slid under the covers with less hesitation – curling into William’s side like it was the only place he knew how to rest.

And William, as always, wrapped around him without asking for anything more.

—–

Est wasn’t stupid.

He saw it – in the way William looked at him like he held something precious behind his eyes. In the way he laughed softer when Est was near. In the way he didn’t waver. Not once.

This wasn’t just kindness.

No one put that much effort into just being good.

Not unless they cared.

So maybe William liked him. Maybe more than liked.

Est could admit that now, if only in the private space of his mind – in the late hours when William was asleep beside him and the only sound was the faint rustle of sheets when the prince rolled over, reaching for him even unconsciously.

Maybe it had started a while ago – the liking. The wondering.

And now William was trying to prove it. That Est meant more than what they did with their bodies. That he wasn’t just some temporary rebellion or passing obsession. That he was wanted in the way that mattered.

Est’s chest tightened just thinking about it.

Because even if it was true… even if William loved him one day – what then?

Love didn’t rewrite the rules of the world.

William would still be royal. The heir. A prince born to be seen, to be followed, to be married off someday for alliances Est didn’t dare name aloud. Est would still be the bodyguard – the one in the shadows. Trusted to protect, not to be loved.

He shut his eyes.

It hurt. The knowing. The quiet, persistent ache of what if.

But it didn’t stop him from curling closer to William in the dark. Didn’t stop his fingers from brushing lightly against the prince’s bare waist, feeling the heat of him. Didn’t stop the selfish part of him from pressing a kiss to William’s shoulder and pretending, just for a moment, that the future was something they could rewrite.

Because maybe – just maybe – even if it couldn’t last, he could hold onto this.

This one month.

This one boy who kissed him like he mattered.

—-

And then, things began to change.

William noticed it first in the mornings.

Est was still there – in his bed, in his space, by his side – but something was quieter. Not absent, not cold, just… muted. Like a song played from another room. Still beautiful. Still his. Just harder to hear.

He didn’t bring it up. Not yet.

William told himself not to overthink. Est wasn’t the most expressive person to begin with – he’d always carried things close to his chest. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe William was imagining things.

But it was hard to ignore when Est stopped teasing him in the same ways.

When his kisses grew softer. Slower. Like he was memorizing William’s mouth instead of claiming it.

He hadn’t noticed before.

Not because he didn’t care – but because he’d been used to Est.

Used to his quiet, steady presence. To the way he always came to bed without question, let himself be pulled into William’s arms, murmured soft things into his throat in the dark. Used to the way Est moved through the palace without needing to be noticed. How he never asked for more, never demanded what William was too afraid to name.

But something changed.

He couldn’t say when exactly – only that he felt it before he understood it. Est was still there, still warm in bed at night, still offering soft kisses when no one was looking. But something had grown distant in his eyes. He was quieter. More thoughtful. Like he was slowly drawing a line in the sand neither of them had the courage to cross.

And that was when William started watching.

Not just to Est in the dark hours of the night, when they kissed and held each other and pretended they didn’t need words. But during the day, too. From across the courtyard. From palace balconies. In passing.

Started paying attention to the things he had always taken for granted.

How Est didn’t linger in the halls anymore. How he left the training grounds quickly. How he never stayed long in William’s chamber unless called for. How he smiled more when Dylan was around.

And William noticed Dylan.

William wasn’t sure when it started – maybe it had always been there, and he hadn’t paid enough attention.

The way Dylan hovered near Est, laughing easily, nudging his shoulder like they were long-time friends. The way Est let him.

The way William had never seen Est let anyone before.

The way Dylan touched Est’s arm when he laughed. The way they spoke in low tones just out of earshot, shared food, sparred with familiar ease. The way Est smiled – genuinely smiled – around him.

It stung.

William hadn’t even known he could feel that particular kind of sting. Not like this. Not with Est.

It wasn’t just jealousy – not the raw, possessive kind he used to feel toward pretty nobles who fawned over him and drifted on.

No, this was something else. Something deeper. Quieter. It twisted in his stomach and settled in his chest like a weight. Like grief for something he hadn’t yet lost – but was beginning to fear he might.

He didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t – not without sounding petty, or worse, insecure. Not when he was the prince and Est was the one risking everything just by being near him.

But jealousy burned in his chest all the same.

He would sit in council meetings half-listening, eyes flicking to the window, wondering if Est was out there – if he was with Dylan. If he was laughing at something William would never hear. If the retreat in Est’s eyes had already found a new place to rest.

And the guilt was worse than the jealousy. Because he knew that he couldn’t be all that Est needed. Not truly.

—-

The late afternoon light slanted gold across the training grounds, catching in the curve of Est’s shoulder as he leaned against the wooden railing, laughing at something Dylan had said.

They’d finished drills an hour ago, and Dylan hadn’t left his side since – nudging, teasing, chatting easily in that way of his. It was nothing unusual. Nothing anyone else would notice.

But William noticed.

From the far edge of the palace terrace, partially hidden behind a pillar, he watched them.

His guards were speaking, but he wasn’t listening. His gaze was fixed on Est – the way his lips curved, how he let Dylan tug at his wrist in mock outrage. How he smiled like he used to smile with William. Open, unguarded. Soft.

It made something twist low in William’s stomach. Something sharp and quiet and full of ache.

He didn’t even realize he was gripping the stone railing until he heard his own breath, rough in the stillness.

And then – as if sensing it – Est turned.

The shift was subtle. A glance over his shoulder. The flicker of his gaze, scanning the terrace.

And then his eyes locked on William.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The distance between them stretched thin like glass, clear and breakable. Est’s smile faded slowly, eyes unreadable. Not cold. Not surprised. Just… tired. Or knowing.

William didn’t look away.

He couldn’t. Even as guilt surged in him. Even as he knew how it must look – him, up there like a prince surveying what wasn’t his to claim. Jealous. Wanting. Late.

Est didn’t smile again. Didn’t break the moment.

He simply looked at him, gaze steady, heart in his throat – and then Dylan said something else, too loud and too cheerful, and Est turned back around.

Just like that.

And William stood there, hands clenched, pulse thudding in his ears.

The ache of it lingered long after Est was gone.

That night, when Est came to him – soft, silent, slipping beneath the sheets with a quietness that made William ache – he kissed him harder than he meant to. Slower, deeper, holding him a little too close.

“Darling,” he whispered, mouth against Est’s neck. “Mine.”

He felt the pause. A slight stiffening in Est’s back. A breath held – and then released, as Est let himself melt into the hold again.

Neither of them said what they were thinking.

But William held him through the night like he was afraid he might slip away.

And Est let him.

—-

It got harder to ignore after that.

William started noticing the patterns. How Est sometimes showed up later than usual. How he seemed a little more tired, or distracted, or distant – eyes unfocused when William kissed him, like his mind was somewhere else. How he didn’t always reach for him first anymore.

The warmth between them was still there. But there was something new beneath it. A thread of something William couldn’t name – or didn’t want to.

So one evening, as Est sat beside him after dinner, tugging absently at the edge of the sheet, William tried.

Casual. Careful.

“So… you and Dylan seem close.”

Est didn’t look at him. Just hummed. “He’s easy to talk to.”

William nodded slowly. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

At that, Est looked up, his expression unreadable. Not guilty – but guarded. “We train together. He talks too much. I let him.”

William let out a soft breath of a laugh, but it felt forced. “He seems… fond of you.”

Est tilted his head, like he didn’t quite hear him. Or like he wished he hadn’t.

But instead of answering, he leaned over and kissed William – a soft, coaxing thing – and said, “I’m here now. Aren’t I?”

It was a gentle redirection. But it didn’t settle the ache in William’s chest.

Because the truth was – yes, Est was there. Physically. Willingly. Still touching him, still folding into him at the end of the day.

But something felt like it was slipping.

And William didn’t know how to stop it.

He kissed Est back, because he didn’t want to lose the moment.

But even as their bodies tangled under the sheets again, even as Est whispered his name like it still meant something, William felt it.

The doubt.

The quiet, creeping fear that maybe Est was beginning to pull away not because he didn’t care –

– but because it was easier to let someone else begin to matter more.

But that night, after Est had fallen asleep – soft breath against his collarbone, hand curled at his waist – William lay awake.

Staring at the ceiling.

Trying to understand the heaviness in his chest.

It wasn’t just lust anymore. He knew that.

And it wasn’t just comfort, either.

He wanted Est. In all the quiet, in-between ways. The ones that lingered beyond the bed. The ones that made him jealous of someone else’s laughter. The ones that made him wonder what Est was thinking when he was far away.

But he was beginning to realize…

Whatever it was, it ran deeper than he thought.

—-

It came to a head one afternoon – too much tension built over too many days of watching from afar.

They were alone, finally. William dismissed the attendants early under the guise of fatigue, and Est, as always, lingered close by the hearth. His armor stripped down to a simple tunic, his hands clasped behind his back, as if waiting.

William hesitated. Then:
“Do you like him?”

Est looked over. “Who?”

“Dylan.”

Est blinked, brow furrowing. “What?”

“I see how he is with you,” William said, voice measured but tight. “How you… respond to him.”

Est straightened slightly, the shift in his posture immediate. “He’s a friend. A soldier in your service.”

“He wants more than that,” William said, stepping closer. “He flirts with you openly, touches you like – “

“It’s harmless,” Est interrupted, eyes narrowing. “He’s like that with everyone. He means nothing by it.”

“But do you?” William asked, voice suddenly quieter. “Do you mean nothing by it, either?”

A silence fell. Sharp. Unforgiving.

Est’s jaw clenched. “I don’t owe you an explanation for who I speak to.”

William flinched, like he’d been struck. “That’s not what I – Est, I just – I’m trying to understand. I’ve seen the way you’ve pulled away from me lately. I… I thought maybe – “

“I haven’t pulled away,” Est snapped, but his voice held a hint of guilt. “You’re the one who said we should stop. Said it was better that way. I’m only giving you the space you asked for.”

William’s heart squeezed. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean distance. I meant… I wanted to do things right. I wanted to earn – “

Est looked away. “Then don’t ask about Dylan again.”

William swallowed. The air between them crackled – with pain, with resentment, with the things neither of them knew how to say.

“I’m sorry,” William said softly, after a moment. “I didn’t mean to accuse you. Or him. I just… I care. I notice now. And it hurts, a little, when I see someone else laughing with you the way I used to.”

Est didn’t look at him, but the hard edge of his shoulders softened.

William stepped closer, gently reaching for his hand, brushing their fingers together. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Est finally glanced back, eyes tired but warm. “Then don’t.”

And William didn’t. He leaned in, forehead to Est’s shoulder, pressing a quiet kiss there.

No more questions. Not that night.

But the worry stayed. Quiet and coiled in the pit of his stomach – growing stronger in the days to come. Especially when Est stopped coming at all.

—-

The first night Est didn’t show up, William tried not to think too much of it.

Bodyguards had schedules. Rotations. Late-night shifts. It wasn’t unusual.

And yet… it was.

For weeks now, Est had made it a silent routine to slip into his chambers once the corridors quieted. They’d sit, talk sometimes, share quiet touches under dim candlelight. Est would linger by the bed, sometimes crawl in beside him, even if just to sleep. No promises. No sex. Just closeness. A slow-building gravity between them.

But that night, William waited. And waited.

And Est didn’t come.

He thought of sending for him – a note, a whisper down the hall, anything – but he bit it back. That wasn’t the kind of prince he wanted to be. That wasn’t the kind of connection he wanted with Est.

So he went to sleep cold, alone, with the ache of something unfinished blooming in his chest.

The next morning, Est was already at his post by the time William stepped out. Polished, composed, back straight, eyes forward.

Like nothing had changed.

Except it had.

Est didn’t meet his gaze. Not even once.

The second night was worse.

William tried to convince himself Est was busy. Needed rest. That nothing was wrong.

But the space beside him stayed empty. The silence felt heavier. And when he closed his eyes, he realized he’d gotten used to the quiet sound of Est’s breathing beside him.

That terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

By the third morning, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

He found Est in the inner courtyard, overseeing a weapons inspection with the other guards. He waited until there was a quiet moment, then stepped in.

“Walk with me,” William said, his voice low.

Est hesitated, just for a second. Then nodded.

They walked the perimeter of the training yard in silence until they reached a quiet corner beneath the stone arches.

“Is something wrong?” William asked gently.

“No, Your Highness.”

“Est.”

That earned him a glance. Brief. Guarded.

“You haven’t come at night,” William said softly. “For two nights now.”

“I needed space,” Est replied, eyes fixed somewhere just over William’s shoulder. “To think.”

William waited. When no further explanation came, he tried again. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but… if something’s bothering you, I’d like to understand.”

Est’s jaw tightened. His silence said more than words could.

William nodded slowly. “Alright. I won’t press.”

He let his fingers brush the inside of Est’s wrist – a fleeting touch, almost instinctive. “But I’ll still be waiting. If you want to talk… or just come back. I’ll be there. Take the time you need.”

He gave a small smile, a little sad. “I don’t want to be another obligation.”

Est’s eyes flicked to his, this time holding them longer. Something raw passed between them – a flicker of guilt, confusion, restraint.

Then Est gave a formal nod. “Understood.”

William stepped back.

And as he walked away, he felt something fray, delicate and invisible – like a thread being pulled loose in the quiet.

He didn’t know what had changed.

Only that it had.

And that he missed Est more than he knew how to say.

—-

By the fifth night, William didn’t wait.

He didn’t linger by the window. Didn’t light the candle he usually left burning just in case. He undressed in silence, his heart heavy, his chest hollow, and lay down in the cold bed alone – again.

Est wasn’t coming.

And this time, William didn’t even let himself hope.

But sometime past midnight, he awoke with a start.

The door clicked shut, quiet as a whisper.

Then footsteps. Then the soft rustle of cloth as someone climbed into bed behind him, body curling around his without a word. Hot breath against the nape of his neck. Hands – shaking – found his waist, and then slid under his shirt like a man starved for heat.

“Est?” William breathed, half turning.

And then he was kissed.

Desperately. Fiercely. Like someone trying to devour a memory before it vanished. Est’s mouth crashed against his, clumsy and breathless, tasting of wine and salt – or maybe tears – and William barely had time to respond before Est was all over him.

“Please – please,” Est gasped against his lips, hands dragging William closer, hips grinding down with aching urgency. “I need you. Just – please – let me forget for a little while – “

“Est, wait – “

“No,” he whispered, mouth moving down William’s jaw to his throat, open and hungry. “It’s been three weeks. I can’t do it anymore. I thought I could – I tried – but I can’t. I need you.”

His voice broke.

And William felt it – the trembling in him. The way his whole body shook with something deeper than desire. Something ragged.

He tried to hold Est’s face, tried to still him gently. “Est. You’re drunk.”

“I had to be,” Est muttered. “It’s the only way I’d come. The only way I’d say it.”

William froze.

Est kissed him again, fierce and bruising, then broke away with a breathless, bitter laugh.

“I love you.”

William’s breath caught.

“I love you,” Est repeated, quieter now, forehead pressing against William’s. “And I fucking hate it.”

Silence rang in the dark.

Est swallowed hard. “Because you’re a prince. Because you can’t be mine. Not really. Not in the way I want you. And I keep trying to be okay with it. Keep trying to stay away. But I can’t – god, I can’t.”

William could feel his pulse racing, his lungs barely working.

He reached up slowly, brushing Est’s hair back from his damp forehead. “Est – “

But Est just kissed him again, raw and needing, pushing him down into the mattress like he was drowning and William was the only air left.

For a moment, William let him.

Because he missed this. Missed Est. Missed the fire and the closeness and the gravity of being wanted by the only person who ever made him feel whole.

But then Est whispered brokenly, “Just this once, please – let me have this – “

And William felt something crack in his chest.

This wasn’t just about need.

It was pain.

So he caught Est’s face in both hands again and pulled back gently, even though his heart was pounding.

“No,” he said softly, lips brushing Est’s temple. “Not like this. Not when you’re hurting. Not when you think I don’t want you too.”

Est went still above him. Every muscle tense. Eyes wide, glassy.

“I’m not letting you forget,” William whispered. “I want you to remember. That I’m here. That I’ll be here. That I want you just as much as you want me. That you can say things like that – and I won’t run.”

Est looked at him like he didn’t believe it. Like he couldn’t.

So William pulled him down slowly. Wrapped his arms around him and held him against his chest.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, into his hair. “Even if you don’t believe it yet.”

Est didn’t speak after that. Just breathed – ragged and uneven – against William’s throat.

But he didn’t leave.

As Est drifted off, curled against him with the exhaustion of someone who’d finally broken through his own walls, William lay awake, wide-eyed and unmoving in the dark. His arms were still around Est, but his mind was racing – thoughts looping back on themselves, questions blooming like bruises he didn’t know how to soothe.

Est loved him.
The words echoed in his head, quiet but thunderous. He’d said it. Slurred and desperate, yes – but said it all the same. Not once, but twice. And with a kind of bitterness that made it clear it hadn’t been easy. That he hadn’t meant to. That it hurt to feel it.

And still… William’s heart had leapt at the sound. Ached with the weight of it. Because he wanted it to be true.

But then – why?

Why had Est been so distant for days?

Why had he stopped coming at night?

Why had he looked away when William tried to hold his gaze?

And most of all – why Dylan?

The thought twisted something ugly in his chest. William hadn’t wanted to be the jealous type. He wasn’t the jealous type. He had grown up in a palace where affection was fleeting and bodies were currency, and he had trained himself not to care. But then Est had come crashing into his life with that quiet intensity, that quiet devotion, and it had changed everything.

He had started to care. Deeply. Viscerally.

So when Est laughed too easily with Dylan… when he didn’t come to bed… when he said nothing and offered no explanation –

It hurt.

And yet… he had said it.

“I love you. And I hate it.”

William replayed the moment again and again in his mind, unsure what to believe. Was it the wine speaking? Was it desperation?

Or had Est meant it – truly meant it – but hadn’t believed it could change anything?

Because that was the root of it, wasn’t it?

Est had been telling himself for months that none of this could ever work. That William couldn’t be his. That it was impossible.

And maybe it was.

William didn’t have a solution for that – not yet. He couldn’t undo centuries of protocol, couldn’t tear down every barrier between their worlds overnight. But he knew one thing with sudden, startling clarity.

He wasn’t letting Est go.

Not now.

Not after this.

If Est thought this could only end in pain, William would prove him wrong. Not through empty promises or sweet words, but through action. Through presence. Through staying – again and again, no matter how many times Est tried to push him away.

Because now he knew.

And knowing changed everything.

He exhaled softly, eyes still on the ceiling, one hand slowly smoothing over Est’s spine beneath the sheets.

It wouldn’t be easy. Nothing between them ever had been.

But that didn’t matter anymore.

He would keep Est.
And he would fight to do it.

Even if he had to break the rules.
Even if it meant changing the game entirely.

He turned his head then, brushing a kiss against Est’s hair, and whispered the words he wasn’t ready to say aloud just yet:

“I’m yours too.”

And then he closed his eyes.

But he didn’t sleep.
Not for a long, long time.

And even through the ache and confusion, through the quiet throb of jealousy and the sting of everything Est had pulled away from – one truth had rooted itself deep in his chest:

He was going to keep him.

Maybe the world wouldn’t allow it forever. Maybe it would fall apart tomorrow.

But now that he knew – really knew – that Est loved him, he wasn’t letting go.

He’d fight for it.

He’d earn it.

He’d show Est that love didn’t have to mean suffering or silence or sacrifice.

He’d show him what it could be.

And William would never make him regret saying it first.

——

An update after ages!

Hope y’all enjoy it. 

If y’all notice any mistakes or discrepancies, let me know because I haven’t had time to thoroughly proof read the chapter. But y’all deserve the update.

And… what do y’all think will happen next??