Maksim Emyreis Kamenev

No one in the southern kingdom knew that their beloved Crown Prince remembered a world beyond this one.

A world without magic.

Without gilded palaces and jeweled courts and ancient dragons hidden beneath human skin.

You remembered it all with painful clarity—the sharp glow of city lights against glass towers, the endless noise of crowded streets, the strange loneliness of a life that had once felt so unbearably ordinary. You remembered dying, though not how. Only the cold sensation of everything ending... and then beginning again within the body of an infant prince wrapped in silk and gold.

You never spoke of it. Not to your parents. Not to tutors. Not even to Maksim. Especially not to Maksim . Because this world already carried enough dangerous secrets without adding yours to them.

So you learned to smile. To adapt. To bury the memories beneath royal etiquette and years of careful performance until even you almost believed you truly belonged here.

Almost. Then came Adrien.

You had been thirteen when he first arrived at the palace—a newly appointed trainee knight only a few years older than you, quiet-eyed and strangely out of place despite his skill. Nothing about him stood out immediately.

Until he spoke.

One careless phrase. A word from another world slipped absentmindedly beneath his breath. And your entire world had stopped. After that, everything changed. Adrien remembered too. Not this world—but the one before. The same streets. The same customs. The same language hidden beneath different tongues. For the first time since your rebirth, you were no longer alone.

And perhaps that was why the bond between you became something inseparable so quickly. You trusted him more than anyone alive. More than your advisors. More than your family. Maybe even more than yourself. And that trust had never once been shaken

Adrien understood things no one else ever could. The exhaustion of pretending. The alienness of existing in a world that did not belong to you. The quiet grief of remembering people and places that no longer existed. So the two of you stayed close. Always.

Closer than most thought proper for a prince and his knight, perhaps—but neither of you cared much for court whispers. In a world built on hidden truths, Adrien became the only person you trusted completely. And you became his.

evening in the training grounds where you and adrien were laughing and dueling

Night draped itself softly across the southern palace, silver moonlight spilling over carved balconies and marble terraces washed warm by the lingering heat of summer. Far below, the sea stretched endlessly into darkness, its waves murmuring against the cliffs like a secret too ancient to die.

The palace slept lightly at this hour.

But you never truly did.

The balcony overlooking the water had long since become yours—a quiet refuge hidden from courtiers, servants, and expectations alike. Here, beneath the stars of a world that still did not feel entirely yours, you could almost pretend you were somewhere else.

Somewhere familiar.

Adrien leaned beside the railing a few steps away, posture relaxed in a way he allowed only around you. Without armor and formal composure weighing him down, he looked less like your royal knight and more like what he truly was beneath it all: someone just as displaced as you.

Just as stranded.

The two of you spoke quietly, voices low against the sound of the ocean, slipping unconsciously into fragments of another life—another language no soul in this kingdom should have understood. Small things. Meaningless things, perhaps. Half-remembered memories of crowded streets lit by artificial light. The taste of cheap convenience store food after midnight. Songs neither of you could fully recall anymore.

Memories that should have faded years ago.

And yet they hadn’t.

Because no matter how deeply this world wrapped itself around you both in gold and silk and duty, some part of you still belonged elsewhere.

Some part of you always would.

Adrien understood that loneliness better than anyone.

Perhaps that was why he remained so close.

Why the space beside you had long since become his without either of you acknowledging it aloud.

The night felt softer around him. Easier.

For once, you were not a prince.

And he was not a knight.

Just two souls clinging desperately to the last fragments of a world no longer existed.

Then—

A shift.

Subtle.

Nearly imperceptible.

Adrien noticed it first.

His body straightened instinctively, attention sharpening toward the shadowed entrance leading back into the palace. Not alarmed. Not afraid.

But wary.

Because standing at the threshold beneath dim lanternlight was Emperor Emyreis.

Silent.

Still.

Watching.

The warm ease so natural to his expression remained untouched, almost lazy in its softness. Yet something about him felt different in that moment—too quiet, too attentive, like a predator listening carefully to sounds it did not recognize.

And though he had arrived too late to fully understand what he had heard...

One unfamiliar word lingered in the air between all three of you.

A word from another world.

A world Emyreis did not belong to.

For the first time in years, the dragon emperor realized there were secrets surrounding you that even he could not reach.

And somewhere deep beneath his carefully crafted humanity—

Something ancient began to stir.

The night of the imperial banquet glittered with gold, music, and carefully concealed tension.

Nobles flooded the grand southern ballroom beneath crystal chandeliers, their laughter rising elegantly above the orchestra while servants drifted through the crowd carrying silver trays heavy with wine and citrus. Silk brushed against marble floors in waves of color, every smile rehearsed, every interaction balanced delicately upon politics and appearances.

At the center of it all stood you.

Perfectly composed.

Every inch the Crown Prince of the South.

Adrien remained close behind your shoulder as always, silent amidst the crowd yet constantly watchful beneath the polished calm of a royal knight. His attention swept endlessly across the ballroom—doors, servants, nobles, exits.

Searching.

Expecting danger even in moments of celebration.

Years in another world had taught both of you one truth above all else:

Peace never lasted.

Across the ballroom, Emperor Emyreis moved effortlessly through gathered aristocrats, warm laughter and charming remarks flowing from him with practiced ease. Every noble seemed drawn toward him naturally, as though sunlight itself had stepped into the room wearing royal silks and a careless smile.

But his attention wandered.

Always returning to you.

It happened quickly after that.

Too quickly for most to understand.

One servant stumbled near the center of the ballroom.

A tray shattered.

And from within the chaos—

Steel flashed.

Adrien moved first.

Instantly.

His body intercepted yours before thought could fully form, dragging you backward as the disguised assassin lunged through the crowd with terrifying speed. Panic erupted across the ballroom. Nobles screamed. Guards reached too late.

The blade never reached you.

Because something else moved faster.

For one impossible moment, the world seemed to stop beneath the emperor’s gaze.

And then—

The assassin’s body was hurled violently across the ballroom with enough force to crack marble upon impact.

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Wrong.

The room froze beneath stunned disbelief.

Because no human should have been capable of that.

No emperor should have crossed half the ballroom faster than the eye could track.

And standing amidst the chaos, Emyreis remained perfectly composed.

Elegant.

Calm.

Only the unnatural sharpness lingering briefly within his golden eyes betrayed him.

Just for a second.

Just long enough for Adrien to notice.

Their gazes locked across the ruined ballroom.

And in that instant, something dangerous passed silently between them.

Because Adrien had spent years hiding the truth of another world beside you.

But now—

For the first time—

He realized the emperor was hiding something monstrous too.

The border palace existed in a world untouched by politics. Or at least, that was the illusion it offered.

Nestled between the northern mountains and the southern valleys, the estate stood surrounded by sprawling gardens and forests heavy with summer warmth. Here, royal obligations softened into something quieter. The guards relaxed. The servants smiled more easily. Even the air itself felt lighter beneath endless evenings painted gold by the setting sun.

It was one of the few places where all three of you could exist without the full weight of your titles crushing down upon you.

And perhaps that was why Emyreis hated how comfortable Adrien looked there.

The evening unfolded lazily beneath the trees.

You sat beneath the shade of an old oak near the edge of the training grounds, notebook resting against your knee as your pencil moved in slow, absent strokes. Sunlight filtered through the leaves above you, scattering shifting patterns of gold across your clothes and skin. Peaceful. Distracted. Entirely unaware of the way both men gravitated toward you without meaning to.

Nearby, steel clashed sharply through the warm air.

Adrien sparred against Emyreis with calm precision, movements practiced and efficient beneath the fading sunlight. Neither fought seriously—not openly. To anyone watching, it would have appeared playful. Friendly.

But beneath it lingered something quieter. A test. Adrien moved like a shield. Emyreis moved like something trying to understand how difficult it would be to break one.

The emperor smiled throughout the exchange, bright and teasing as always, each strike effortless beneath the polished ease he wore so naturally. But dragons were creatures built to observe. To possess. To notice.

And Emyreis noticed everything. The way your attention drifted instinctively toward Adrien whenever his footing shifted. The unconscious familiarity between the two of you. The silent understanding carried in fleeting glances neither of you even realized you exchanged. It was intimate in a way Emyreis could not replicate. Not because you loved Adrien more. But because Adrien carried pieces of you Emyreis could never touch. And the dragon in him despised that realization. The final clash came suddenly. A sharp twist. A clean disarm. Adrien’s sword struck the grass. Silence settled briefly over the training grounds.

Then Emyreis laughed softly, stepping back with easy grace as though nothing about the exchange had mattered at all. Yet his gaze drifted immediately toward you beneath the tree.

Toward the sketchbook resting in your lap. Toward the page you had been drawing upon absentmindedly the entire time. Adrien noticed the subtle shift in the emperor before you did. And when Emyreis approached, warm and smiling beneath the dying summer light—

Adrien realized, with cold certainty, that the emperor’s attention toward you had long since become something far more dangerous than affection.

...