𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 | 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃

ততততত

𝐓 𝐎 𝐁 𝐈 𝐍

I don't want to be here, back at that god forsaken tavern. Not after last night.

I lost myself in the most fucking careless of ways. I convinced myself that Imogen would not be a priority; my priorities belonged to Aspen. They always will be—until tears fell down Imogen's porcelain cheeks and flipped my mind around like a goddamn pancake. I knew she was fighting her own battles, but King Leighton? Now, I know that the ruthless battle she faces will rid her of everything that she is.

When she stumbled into her room, seething at me for breaking the thin trust between us, something clicked. My heart muted the rationality of my brain, and the realization came down on me like a collapsing cliffside. Imogen owns a part of that soft heart of mine. Just a sliver, but a heart can't operate without its entirety. I should've stopped myself from seeing her before it got out of hand, but here we are—twisted and coiled into each other's lives.

The hopelessness from the marriage had broken her own fragile heart, despite her being the girl who 'isn't made of glass'. I mended her, or tried to. Piece by piece, I scavenged what I could to rebuild her into that princess of strength that I know she is.

But in the end, I fear it won't be Leighton who will wreck her. I'll have to choose between two sides: my sister who I lost, or the girl of moonlight who I will bow to in the end.

It will be me. I will wreck Imogen.

The tavern swarms itself with drunk sailors and unruly pirates. A few musicians play strings and flutes, while one entertainer riles the entire bar to sing well-known ballads and choruses. Dancers occupy the floors while beer spills over the edges of froth-rimmed mugs. It's a scene of Lagulon I know well, yet never partake in.

In the corner of the room, Gareth lounges in a booth, evidently flirting with one of the waitresses. Unlike last night when I caught him at the dinner, he redresses in more neutral attire, clothes that don't make him seem like he is a knight from the enemy kingdom.

When he catches sight of me, he waves the waitress off. I take a seat across from him.

"Looks like you made a friend, " I grumble.

Gareth grunts, then takes a sip of his beer. "Just having some fun while I wait for your slow ass to show up." He nods his head to a whole bottle of amber whiskey. "Got your favourite."

I take the bottle in hand, analyzing the golden brown liquid. "I'm gonna need it."

"You sure as fuck will," he grumbles, then clears his throat. He clearly wants to get his done and over with. "I attended that event at the castle last night. A feast, actually."

I know about the feast, but Gareth has no idea about the passageways that I eavesdropped through. I know that the reason for the feast is because of the betrothal between Imogen and Leighton. I know Gareth sat there with a dangerous smirk on his lips, yearning to have the upper hand. He always wanted to be victorious at everything when we were kids. Even when we trained in the Adoridian royal corp, he always desired to win at least one spar against me. But I always won.

Always.

Growing up, he chased my shadow. With every loss, he grew famished for victory. It consumed him at times, and the storm that became of him was ugly. Yet, we were best friends. On the field, we never had to speak. I understood his tactics, his movements, his strategy—and he understood mine. We learned to act as a team no matter how hard the captains pit us against each other. Until, we both had a choice.