Chapter 36: The Tenderness of Darkness

[Imperial Palace—The Next Day—Emperor’s Chamber]

Kael opened his eyes; his body aches like hell.

Light filtered softly through the high lattice windows, pale and unhurried. For a moment, he did not understand where he was. Only the warmth surrounded him, steady and protective.

"...ugh," he muttered faintly, lifting a hand to his brow.

As he shifted—SQUISH.

Something warm and yielding pressed against him. Kael stiffened, then looked down to find himself once again enclosed in Lytharion’s chest. His hands were warm around Lytharion’s chest, and then Lytharion’s other hand moved, pulling him closer, saying, "Sleep; you still have time to get up."

Kael blinked; his cheeks were pink as he rubbed. He lowered his head.

"I truly did not know," he murmured to himself, voice hoarse, "that womb formation would demand such immense pain."

Lytharion glanced at him, his arm wrapping around Kael’s waist, drawing him back against his chest. His other hand brushed Kael’s hair aside as he leaned in, kissing near the shell of his ear.

"Are you well? Does it hurt anywhere else?" Lytharion asked quietly, his voice deep and unhurried, wrapped in concern.

Kael did not answer; he was silent for a heartbeat and then said, "Why are you being gentle?"

Lytharion’s thumb traced once along Kael’s side. "Should I not be?"

Kael looked at him. Lytharion’s golden eyes were half-lidded, unreadable and yet strangely sincere as he simply. "You will bear my child. Why would I not be gentle with you?"

Kael could not answer that; he lowered his gaze again, quiet for several breaths. Then Lytharion spoke once more.

"Let me give you a massage."

Kael blinked. "...What?"

Lytharion’s expression remained perfectly calm. "You are tense."

Kael hesitated, then gave the faintest nod. Lytharion shifted behind him, guiding him against his chest before lifting both hands to Kael’s temples. His fingers began to move in slow, careful circles...firm enough to ease the ache, gentle enough to make Kael’s breathing falter.

The touch was deliberate, measured and strangely intimate. Hands that could command armies seemed to know, with equal certainty, how to soothe a body that had been pushed too far.

Kael’s shoulders gradually loosened, and his breath, which had been tight and shallow, began to settle. After several moments, Lytharion’s voice returned, soft and quiet near his ear.

"Better?"

Kael nodded faintly, his eyes following the line of Lytharion’s face.

There was something almost unfair about how composed he looked. As though Kael were the only one affected by the closeness between them.

Lytharion noticed his stare, his brows lifted slightly. "What are you looking at?"

Kael hesitated, then, unable to stop himself, he asked in a low voice, "Will you still be this gentle when I bear your child?"

For a heartbeat, Lytharion’s fingers paused, then he lowered his head and pressed a brief, tender kiss into Kael’s hair. The gesture was so soft that Kael’s hand curled instinctively against the sheets.

"If you can endure this for me," Lytharion said quietly, "then the least I can do is make sure you are not left to suffer alone."

The words should have comforted him; they should have. Instead, they tightened painfully around Kael’s heart; he looked down, disturbed by the strange ache blooming inside his chest.

Why did that hurt so much? Why did kindness from this man feel more dangerous than cruelty?

"What about after that? Will you still be gentle?" Kael asked.

Lytharion glanced at him, and his eyes went cold as he said, "You will be free after that. I won’t be here anymore to show you my gentleness nor my coldness. I am here until I take my child."

. . .

. . .

Kael’s finger tightened. After a moment, Kael asked in a quieter voice, "And if I refuse to bear your child?"

The warmth behind him vanished, not physically but in the air itself. Lytharion’s hands stilled completely. When he spoke again, his voice had changed. It was still calm, still deep, but the softness was gone from it.

"Then I will not leave your side."

Kael’s breath caught. Lytharion turned Kael’s face gently toward him, his thumb brushing once beneath Kael’s eye with infuriating tenderness.

"But you would live your entire life with me in Nhar’zhul Veyth." His gaze held Kael’s without blinking.

"And you would not be free from me ever."

Kael’s hands clenched, his throat tightened. Lytharion’s thumb lingered on his cheek, then, quieter still:

"Do not forget who it was that wished to be free from me."

The words were not loud; they did not need to be, but they struck like chains.

"So until that promise is fulfilled," Lytharion continued, his tone coldly certain, "you will endure what must be endured."

Kael stared at him for a long moment, the ache in his chest turning sharp and strange. Then, reluctantly, he looked away, and a small silence passed.

He had expected anger; he had expected cruelty. Somehow...the calmness frightened him more because Lytharion wasn’t threatening him in anger.

He was simply telling him what his choice would cost.

When he finally nodded, it was with the stiffness of someone forcing himself to accept what he did not yet know how to carry.

Lytharion watched him for a while longer, then, as though he had not just threatened to imprison him for the rest of his life, he let a soft smile return.

"I should wash you."

Kael blinked and immediately tried to sit up. "It’s fine. I can—"

He did not finish. Lytharion had already wrapped both arms around him and lifted him with effortless ease. Kael’s eyes widened.

"Lytharion—"

The Lord of Darkness stood, holding him close against his chest as if Kael weighed nothing at all; his expression remained maddeningly calm.

"I shall give my queen a bath."

Kael’s face went hot. "That is not necessary."

Lytharion looked down at him with quiet amusement, already carrying him toward the bathing chamber as he said, "And yet I have decided it is."

Kael opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again because the worst part was... Lytharion looked entirely pleased with himself.

***

[Imperial Palace — Bathing Chamber — Later]

Warm steam curled along the marble floor, drifting like pale silk across the carved pillars of the bathing chamber. The early sun filtered through veiled windows, softening the air into gold and quiet.

In the water, Kael rested against Lytharion’s chest, flushed and exhausted from the last night. The water lapped gently at their skin, scented faintly with rose petals.

Lytharion’s arms were wrapped around him, steady and protective, his palm rubbing slow circles along Kael’s upper arm. "Are you feeling well now?"

Kael leaned into him unconsciously, breath feathering against his skin. "Yes... though I feel a slight ache."

Lytharion’s lips touched his hair in an unhurried kiss, warm and grounding. "Alright, remember to rest well. Do not bury yourself with perchments and scolls."

Kael breathed out, a small hum of contentment, his cheek brushing Lytharion’s collarbone. "I have to attend the first council meeting as the emperor."

Lytharion’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed stroking, firmer now, a possessive sweep down Kael’s arm before he pulled him a little closer, chin resting atop Kael’s head.

"I am no one to stop you. But...do not tire yourself," he said softly.

The peace held only a moment longer.

Then—

"Your Majesty..." A voice echoed from just beyond the chamber door, an attendant, hesitant.

Kael furrowed; he glanced towards Lytharion and then at the door, asking, "What’s the matter?"

"The Young Duke of House Dranvoer has requested your majesties presence for an urgent audience."

Lytharion’s gaze flicked down to Kael, who blinked up at him from the cradle of his arms. "What could require the Young Duke at dawn?"

Lytharion glanced at Kael and sighed before rising smoothly from the water, lifting Kael with him for a moment before letting him stand.

He wrapped a warm cloth around Kael’s shoulders himself, hands lingering a breath longer than necessary.

"Dry yourself," Lytharion said gently, brushing his thumb along Kael’s cheek. "Do not fall sick."

"Will you accompany me?"

"I have no desire to meddle in the mortal’s life. Handle your empire by yourself, my queen."

He let his fingers trail through Kael’s hair one last time before they stepped away from the bathwater rippling behind them, heat from the night still clinging faintly to their skin, and the shadow of Young Duke "urgent" knocking waiting just beyond the door.