By the time he got to his private study, all Kieran wanted was some meditation time to cool down and clear his mind. He sat down at his desk and propped his elbow on the surface while his fingers supported his head, massaging his temples. His eyes were shut as he attempted to regain his calm, and find his happy place.

A serene place where he wouldn't have to think about his soldiers' incompetence. A serene place that always made him feel free from responsibility, that made him forget the missions and the meetings and the duties; and made him feel like just another normal man.

Where he could forget about fussing over his subordinates and have someone fuss over him instead.

A serene place like Elena.

Darn.

And that's when it dawned on him. He hadn't realised it before, but it had always been her.

From when she made them race against nightfall in the flower fields - an idea he thought silly until it turned into an extraordinary moment of free spirit, to the times they spent chatting about foods and their different encounters, and getting so engrossed in reminiscing about childhood...

From the times she told stories and rambled about flowers and butterflies and laughed melodiously at some of his adventurous recounts, to when she danced so vibrantly in any place, at any time, with any kind of person even him - he could still remember how her body had fit so well against his, and the first time he saw her blush,

From the times he watched her in marvel, do all these things; whether she did them for him, with him, or for others, to when these actions effortlessly eased happiness within him.

In all those times, he found a kind of freedom. Freedom from the sometimes burdensome title he carried, and the duties that came with it. In all those times, he felt exceedingly light, as though a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He would forget about the way that his life partly revolved around his subordinates, and the Crown Prince. And he would live in the moment with her - a moment full of only bliss, all thoughts and concerns of work left behind.

She was like an escape from all things 'responsibility' related, and that made any time with her precious.

He shut his eyes tighter, his meditation only stressing him out more.

The one place he needed to go to so badly, he could not. It vexed him to no end.

Just then, the door opened and Aira waltzed in, confidently marching up to the desk.

"Brother, I require your assistance."

"What is it?" Kieran asked, his eyes still closed. Despite his current frustrations, he wasn't about to turn away his sister - especially if she was asking for help.

"Can you go over to Rivera Manor for me?"

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and he looked up at Aira for the first time, curiously. "Whatever for?"

"Well," Aira's gaze flickered round the room. "It's just that Mara promised to lend me a book by today and she hasn't delivered it, yet it's what I was going to use to teach Jean to read today."

Jean was a little niece of one of the servants, and she usually visited her aunt once a week. As a result, she'd become fond of Aira, who would play with her.

"She was looking forward to learning some more this time and I promised we'd read that book together."

Promises. A lot of them were being made recently, it seemed.

"So you want me to fetch the book for you?" Kieran asked.

"Would you please?" Aira put on her 'cutest' face. "Jean doesn't have a lot of time here, and you're the fastest rider in the household."

With a cheeky smile, she added, "you're also the only one who would love to do this for me, biggest brother."

That made Kieran smile, and for a second, he almost forgot his worries.
"Alright. I will get going," he said.

Grinning, Aira skipped over to where he was sitting and affectionately tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. "You're the best!"

*****      *****     *****      *****
"Here you go!" Mara walked to the entrance of her bed-chamber, where Kieran stood waiting. She placed the tiny book in Kieran's hand, and he turned it over.

"Tales of a bullfrog," he read out the title.

"It's amazing," Mara beamed. "You won't believe how adventurous that bullfrog was. He even snuck into the palace and danced with a princess! You should have a go at it yourself."

Kieran grinned at her. "No, thank you."

Mara chuckled and watched him keep the book in the pocket of his trousers.
"I'll leave now. See you, when I see you," he said and turned to the hallway.

"Elena's down in the main kitchen."

Kieran froze at her sentence. Slowly, he turned around and looked at Mara. "Oh?"

"Mm-hm." Mara nodded. "Drawing, probably."

"Right. With Patrick."

Mara placed her hands behind her back and swayed from side to side.

"Not right now," she said in a sing-song voice, her eyes not meeting his. "Patrick's in the library, doing some research."

Kieran shifted his weight from one foot to another, his mind formulating a decision regarding Mara's information.

He nodded. "Okay. I don't want to keep Aira waiting, so..." He signed with his hands that he was leaving.

Mara nodded and shrugged her shoulders. "Of course."

She watched him leave, and a sneaky smile crossed her lips.

Despite saying that, Kieran found his footsteps leading him down to the main kitchen; not that he was surprised. It was always like this when it came to Elena- impulse driven, crushing logic.

He came by the main kitchen entrance, and placed a hand on the door frame. The moment his eyes locked on her, standing at the stone-built table and scratching at a piece of paper with charcoal, he relaxed, the irritation he had from his earlier meeting melting.

Her hair was in a plait from the nape of her neck, purple wreath flowers standing out in it. She looked focused on whatever she was drawing, but as he walked into the kitchen, she must have noticed his presence, for she asked without looking up,

"Did you find what you were looking for, Pat?"

Kieran stopped, and just like that, he was aggravated all over again.

When she heard no reply, she looked up, and gasped upon seeing that it was not Patrick, but the General who stood across from the table.

"J-General!" she exclaimed. "Y-you...are not him."

"Yes," he replied flatly. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"It's j-just that I was w-waiting for him and I thought that you w-were-"

"No need to explain, really," Kieran said, his irritation blatant. "Your choice of words makes it clear your mind is with him. Has been, all this time."

"But I-" she suddenly stopped mid-sentence, and Kieran heard her sharp intake of breath.

Instantly, she dropped her piece of charcoal, and rushed round the side of the table. In a flash, she was right infront of him, and her blue eyes; they weren't meeting his gaze. In fact, they were looking down his face, at his...lips.

"Your lip..." she whispered, raising her hand to his face. Her fingers touched his cheek and her thumb grazed his bottom lip, igniting a trail of scorching fire that seared him. "...is bruised."

He had forgotten about the injury from the rookie, but hand it to Elena to notice the slightest of them - and make a fuss.

"I already applied ointment," he replied when she lowered her hand, his voice hoarse. "It will heal."

Elena furrowed her eyebrows, worry quoting her features. "But what happened?"

He shrugged. "A rookie hit me."

He watched as her worry morphed into surprise, and then into...anger?

"Who is that who hit you?" She demanded. "How dare he, even!"

He fought back a smile from how cute she looked, scowling on his behalf.

"I paid him back for it," he said.

"Hit him back?"

"Headbutted him unconscious. Bloody nose."

Elena lifted her chin, and nodded in solemn approval. "He deserved it."

This time Kieran did smile.

"Oh, just look how he-" Elena reached for his face again, but he leaned his head back, avoiding her touch.

He wanted it. Heavens knew he wanted it. But currently, it burned. And he would rather have it when it wasn't an inferno capable of awakening certain...passions.

"General?"

Then it hit him. In spite of the fact that she had a relaxing effect on him, and eased the weight of his responsibilities, it somehow bounced back with the way she addressed him. Because she always addressed him by his title - a reminder of his status.

"Why must you be so formal with me?"

Elena blinked, withdrawing her hand. "What do you mean?"

"You address me by my title as if I have no name," he said. "My name is Kieran, not 'General'."

"I only call you that because you are the General," she said. "It is your title and it is respectful and required of me to call you that."

"That need not matter when it's you and me, so call me Kieran from now on."

Elena's eyes widened, as if he had just asked her to slit her own throat.

"General, I cannot!" she exclaimed. "You are of higher nobility and you have the entire Prince's Guard under your control. How can I call you by your name?"

He narrowed his eyes. "So this is about status, then?" he asked. "You're discriminating me because of my class?"

Elena's lips parted. "That...that is not how I meant it."

"Class should not matter in a relationship," said Kieran. "Take Lukas and I. I know he is the Crown Prince, and despite serving him, I call him Lukas because he is my close friend. We have that kind of relationship."

"Just like how I call Patrick Pat because we're such good friends," Elena said, brightly.

Kieran ground his teeth, the name triggering angry flames at the pit of his stomach.

"His class does not matter to you, correct?" he gritted out.

"Of course not! We are still close even though we come from different family backgrounds."

"Then what about me?" he asked, taking a step closer to her. He'd reduced his voice to a low rumble, and when his eyes met hers, they were sharp; glaring past her oceanic ones and into her soul. "Are you saying you do not feel close enough to me to call my name?"

Elena opened her mouth, but it was a while before she got words to come out. "I...I did n-not say that."

"Yet that's what it sounds like!" Kieran boomed, turning and walking away from her. "For goodness sake, his name is Patrick, yet you call him Pat!"

"Because he is a good friend of mine from childhood and-!"

"And I am the man you're going to marry!" Kieran finished, facing her once more. "You two might be friends but I am your betrothed; yet I don't hear you calling me Kier, no. Just 'General' this and 'General' that, like you are one of my soldiers!"

Her face contorted as she tried to wrap her head around his attitude. "Why are you so angry?"

"I am not angry!" he snapped. "It's that I don't understand why you just won't call me Kieran. Is it because I address you by title as well? If that's the case, I'll drop it starting today, and you shall do the same."

"But-"

"Elena."

She stiffened, and felt her stomach twist, as if worms had decided to invade and wriggle around in there the moment her bare name escaped his lips - divine full lips that had felt surprisingly soft against her thumb, she'd wanted to touch them again.

"Elena. Elena. Elena." With every enunciation, he took a step closer to her, and the sound of her bare name rolling off his tongue only got finer; made seraphic by the allure of his husky voice.

By stars, she'd never appreciated her name as much as when he said it like that.

He was now standing in such close proximity that their noses were almost touching. And his eyes - usually a pleasant mix of blue and green - reared towards a deep dark green, specks of azure merely dancing about the iris.

His gaze, his voice, her name when he said it, and his proximity; they all contributed to the hotness she felt in her face at the moment.

"I will call you this from now on," he said. "It is your turn."

He was waiting for her to say his name, yet he had caused her throat to run dry. She lowered her eyes and stepped back, so she could catch a moment to breathe before he suffocated her without even touching her.

"Wuh-why are you being like this?" she whispered so softly, she was sure he didn't hear her. He didn't reply either, and the voice she heard next was not his.

"General Kieran! Didn't expect to see you here!"

Elena looked up and saw Patrick standing by the kitchen entrance, smiling.
If she had watched Kieran, she would have noticed the daggers he was sending the lad, merely by his eyes.

"Are you here to see Elena?" he asked, walking into the kitchen.

She found it strange how she felt completely normal when Patrick called her bare name. He was a man, just like the General, yet so different when it came to effect.

"I had come to pick a book from Mara, on behalf of my sister," Kieran replied. "I just happened to pass by here."

Patrick nodded, an image of Aira and the Prince in his shop flashing in his mind. He realised it had been Aira's intention to get Kieran in his vicinity, and he felt his arse tighten when he remembered the 'favour' Crown Prince Lukas had asked of him.

It was to make General Kieran act out, from jealousy.

He had agreed only because it had come from the Prince himself, and he'd sworn allegiance to the Crown, but deep down, he was terrified.

As an artist, he had an eye for physique, and what the body was capable of. He could tell from his physique that what the General was capable of was...scary.

Arms that could snap a neck with one swing, legs that could kick his jewels back into his body with no hope of return, and his jaw...he had caught a glimpse of his well set teeth and prominent canines when he'd grinned at lady Victoria a few days back. It would be easy for him to put those jaws to use and bite off chunks of his flesh.

"Do not fret. He won't kill you," The Prince had said. "He might try, but he won't actually go through with it."

And he had laughed like it was the joke of the century, before promising his life was safe.

His promise was reassuring, but it didn't stop him from quivering before the General at the moment. The General, who was watching him like a hawk, simply waiting for him to slip up so he could sink his talons into his throat.

And Patrick quivered even more, with the knowledge that he was supposed to slip up.

"I thought Elena was showing you how well she's doing with me," he said, trying to sound confident, and walking behind the table. He glanced at the sheet of paper. "I mean, regarding art, of course."

Kieran narrowed his eyes at Patrick, and the latter frowned at the sheet.
"Elena, you got the toning wrong again."

"Really?" she walked over to stand next to Patrick and peer at her shading.

He handed her the piece of charcoal. "Don't worry, we can fix it," he said.

Kieran was curious bout what kind of art piece it was, but he halted his plans of peeking at it when he saw Patrick step behind Elena and place his right hand over hers, leaning forward so he could look over her shoulder at the drawing.

Kieran's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, the veins in his arms throbbing with how hard he clenched his fists. The sight infront of him was too intimate for his liking.

"Do it like this," Patrick was grateful his voice didn't tremble as he spoke, and he used his hand to lead Elena's to tone properly. The murderous aura would surely kill him if he didn't die by the General's hands.

He didn't even realise that the General had moved from his spot across the table because he was fast. The next thing he knew, his right arm was being crushed by a fierce grip, causing him to instantly let go of Elena's hand. One tug from the stronger hand, and Patrick was stumbling back from Elena. She didn't seem to notice, since all her attention was on her drawing, her face grim as she tried to master the art of toning.

His arm was in pain, but a look from Kieran's threatening dark green eyes strangled the yelp in Patrick's throat, killing it before it could come out. His grip was so strong, he was sure his bone would soon be crushed.

Kieran then leaned in, his essence looming over him like a demon's shadow. Patrick's heart hammered against his ribcage, the menacing glint in Kieran's eyes letting him know the line he'd crossed would harbour disastrous results.

"If you value the attachment of your forearms to your hands..." the roughness in the General's voice gave it a frosty edge, and caused a tremor to rake Patrick's spine. "...you shall keep those hands to yourself. If not, I will leave them hanging by just one last ligament of your wrists."

The image made the hairs on the back of his neck to stand, and his heart dropped to his anal sphincter.

"Shite. It better not open up," he thought.

"How is this?" Elena's cheery voice snapped them out of it, and Kieran let go of Patrick's arm, leaving a red mark behind. It was pounding, and Patrick thought he felt a dent in his bone.

Placing it behind his back, he looked at the drawing with a smile, pretending that nothing had happened.

"I shall take my leave," Kieran said, and added, softly, "seeing as I'm not needed here."

*****      *****     *****    *****

Later that evening, two men arrived in Patrick Caparo's shop. One had naturally tousled light brown hair, and a bright smile on his smooth face that reached his playful brown eyes. The other sported a light stubble, his dark brown hair brushed and falling over his forehead to a point where it nearly covered up his eyes, giving him a brooding look. Of course, the scowl on his face already made his solemn character evident.

Both were tall and well-built, and Patrick saw the resemblance between them by the shape of their noses and mouths. And when he saw the emblem of the Prince's Guard embellished proudly on the breasts of their jerkin vests, he became nervous, his mind flooding back to a similar visit days before.

"Patrick Caparo?" the older one asked, his baritone a grave boom.

"Yes...?" Patrick responded gingerly, standing up from his table.

The younger one's smile morphed into a grin, and his brother raised his chin, a contemptuous look shooting down from his leafy green eyes.

He snorted. "So you are the cause of my brother's unease and mood swings."

Patrick's stomach twisted in a knot, and his right arm throbbed just as a picture of the man who had nearly shattered it came to mind.

"By any chance, is your brother..." He was apprehensive, and as much as he wished it not to be true, he knew it had to be. "...General Kieran?"

The younger one gasped and nudged his brother. "Hey, Josh. This Caparo guy is pretty smart, don't you agree?"

"Shut up, Ray," was the reply.

Joshua placed his fists on the table, and as he leaned in, Patrick tried not to pay attention to the way the muscles of his arms rippled.

But by keeping his eyes on Joshua's face, he could see the likeness his leafy green eyes held to the General's. They weren't as frightening, owing to their brightness, but they were still piercing, and intimidating, and ominous.

"We're going to need you to do something for us."

Those words were enough to have his sense of foreboding come alive, and he knew what they wanted wasn't related in any way to art.

Author's chatter:

Hey there! Sorry for the late update!
Had some internet troubles so I ended up posting late.

So Patrick's crisis continues!.

and so does Kieran's.

I felt weird writing this chapter cause of all the emotions, and there was commotion in the house so I couldn't really focus.

Vote if you liked it, though!

Stay safe and good bye. No promises to when I will see you next😅