Oliver watched as Quincey fumbled around and muttered curses under his breath. Oliver had lost count of how many times he had cursed Piers, and if his ribs weren't damaged, he probably would have lost control of his laughter.
Quincey always was headstrong and brash. But he was honest about his feelings, cared deeply for the people around him, and was Oliver's closest friend.
Quincey was always next to him and knew every detail of his life. He knew his struggles when planning for the next battle, his pain when burning another soldier, and his deep hatred for the war.
He also helped mend most of Oliver's wounds, like when the sand drake scarred his face. He had helped Oliver learn how to live with one eye.
Oliver failed to block an attack during one of his duels with Draco. The tip of Draco's spear slipped past his guard, and the blade pierced deeply into his thigh. The wound never fully healed, and Oliver walked with a limp thereafter. However, Quincey was the one who helped wrap the wound and gain the strength to walk again.
Quincey had initially protested the constant duels between Oliver and Draco. However, he realized that their duels replaced a battle between armies. Oliver and Draco sacrificed themselves by challenging each other to one-on-one battles to save the lives of many.
In the last decade of the war, Oliver and Draco were able to reduce the number of battles significantly. So, Quincey had worked hard to practice his sword arts so one day, he could set forward and fight on Oliver's behalf.
Quincey had only wanted to support his General, but this also meant that he was observant of Oliver. He understood his emotions and fears... and of the things that Oliver wasn't aware of at the time.
Oliver's memory slipped to an old conversation he had. They had discussed Draco many times, with Oliver constantly defending his actions.
Quincey frowned. "I don't know why you insist on defending the man who maimed your leg. You know nothing about him."
"I know many things about him, especially that he hates this war as much as I do," Oliver answered quietly. "He hates unnecessary death and will regularly pit himself against me so we can save one more life. He cares for his men and watches over them carefully. But he is also heartbroken..."
Oliver paused and thought about how Rucrea was wiped. "How could he not be heartbroken? I wish..." Oliver sighed. "...I wish I could go back in time and change everything."
"We both know that there are no such things as wishes," Quincey said ruefully.
"I know... but if there were, I would find him again in a peaceful time..." Oliver felt slightly embarrassed and let his words trail off.
Quincey sighed. "When did it happen?"
"What happened?"
"When did you fall for him?" Quincey asked. A smile played at his lips, but it held a trace of pity, knowing that his General could never pursue a relationship with his enemy.
Oliver laughed, ignoring the ache inside him, and took a drink from his flask. "You've been drinking too much."
Oliver had laughed off Quincey's statement then, but he didn't realize that Quincey was the first to understand his heart. He ran his fingers over the branded mark on his hand.
If Quincey asked that question again, he would finally be able to answer sincerely. He had fallen for Draco the moment that he saw him. He had loved him through every battle and every meeting.
Oliver turned his attention back to the man running around the treasury. He had never seen him in his youth when he was healthy and unburdened by a difficult life. Quincey was so carefree now, which was probably why it took a while to recognize him.
It was surprising to see how much prison had changed him from his youth. The man in his previous life had lost everything, including his looks, becoming far separated from the Belelots. He lived anonymously, discarding his true last name in exchange for the sword.
He was sharp with his tongue but also his mind. He was calculative, strong, and a good leader for his men. Oliver could rely on him, giving him the heavy burden of being his second-in-command.
But at this moment, Quincey was carefree and young. He smiled much like Piers, and it brightened his blue eyes. His blonde hair was disheveled but was the trademark Belelot color.
Oliver released a long breath. Quincey Bell... no... Quincey Belelot, son of Gideon Belelot and true heir to the throne. And based on the many curses he directed to his cousin, he would gladly help topple Piers' reign.
Quincey's frustrated mumbling pulled Oliver from his thoughts again. Quincey was shifting through many objects sitting on a desk.
"Hells, I just want a fucking ring." He tossed a box across the room in frustration.
He then picked up a scroll and narrowed his eyes. He ran his fingers across the seal. "Huh... Ella mentioned this treaty before. I never expected to find it."
Oliver craned his neck to see what Quincey had picked up and then felt the breath rush out of him. He knew what that scroll was. He had seen it before in Piers' hands.
It was that blasted treaty.
After being taken away and tortured, he could convince his family to break away from Piers without hesitation. A piece of parchment was not necessary. However, the Kardos family would lose the trust and respect they had built over generations. If he could protect his family a little more, he would.
Quincey hesitated for a moment and was about to put it back down.
"Give it here," Oliver said with a broken voice.
Quincey yelled and jumped, dropping the scroll to the ground. With a pale face, he whipped the torch around and finally found Oliver's figure hunched on the floor.
Quincey was about to run, but then he noticed that Oliver was either exhausted or in pain. "What in the hells happened to you?"
Oliver sighed. "Piers."
"He... he locked you in the treasury?"
Oliver shook his head and held up the key. "I let myself in."
Quincey gave a nervous laugh. "If I come closer to you, will you attack me?"
"I can hardly move," Oliver laughed. "So attacking is a bit of a stretch."
Quincey approached him and illuminated his figure. He gasped when he saw the numerous wounds on Oliver's body.
"Fuck. We need to get you out of here."
He reached down to help Oliver, but Oliver pushed away his hand. "You came here for something. Find it first. I just ask that you take that scroll with you as well."
Quincey was quick to protest. "You look like you're one step away from death. I can find the ring later."
"I need to regain some of my energy, and you're looking for something. Search while I rest a little." Oliver said, hiding his smile under his hands. Quincey was the same as ever, just a little naive now.
Quincey bit his lip but complied. He grabbed the scroll from the ground and tossed it in a bag hanging over his shoulder. He kept searching but cautiously watched Oliver.
In the meantime, Oliver took out a Taotie orb and started to absorb the magic again. He hissed when the magic ripped into his body, making Quincey pause and his caution turned to concern.
Oliver let out a pained laugh. "I'm still breathing, don't worry."
Quincey huffed and then quickened his search. He felt it took hours, but he finally found the ring. He let out a small cheer and held the ring tenderly. "Finally... you're back where you belong."
He strung the ring through a necklace and wrapped it around his neck. He then rushed back to Oliver and held out a hand to help him up.
Oliver tilted his head a little. "Helping me may cause more issues for you."
"Add it to the list of troubles I'm already dealing with." He said as he forcibly grabbed Oliver's arms and pulled him up.
Oliver groaned as he was pulled to his feet. His wounds stretched and pulled, while the pain in his ribs made him breathless.
"Fuck... what did he put you through?"
Oliver smiled, but there was still blood on his lips, and it made him look eerie. "I've been through worse."
Oliver took a couple of steps forward but almost fell. Quincey cursed and ran to a shelf he had scoured before. He flipped through a couple of vials until he grabbed a specific one. He came back and held it out to Oliver. He grinned happily. "Star Juniper Elixir."
Oliver was stunned. This was something as precious as Wysteria's Dream. It was an old elixir drafted from magic. Not only could it save a person on the brink of death and reduce pain, but it could also help them stabilize their magic. This was a double blessing for Oliver.
"This is too precious," Oliver said.
Quincey shrugged. "It's technically not mine, so it doesn't matter how precious it is."
Oliver shook his head. "Are you sure?"
"If you are hobbling around like that, you will put both of us in danger," Quincey said and opened the vial before placing it against Oliver's lips. "So buck up, trust a stranger, and drink this."
Oliver smiled as he tilted his head back, allowing the liquid to pour into his mouth and down his throat. He felt a deep chill rushing to his stomach, spreading throughout his veins. Most men would shiver and freeze from the cold, but Oliver only felt comfort. It was soothing as it spread through his body, caressing him.
When the elixir had run its course, Oliver felt that his pain had numbed a little. He could move around at least. "Let's go," Oliver said.
Quincey turned toward an exit, but Oliver called out after him. "Why that one?"
"Ah, a man let me know there is an exit here. We can escape through there."
Oliver shook his head. He had always wondered who gave him this information. "Do you know this man?"
Quincey hesitated. "Not really... we were somewhat drunk, and he happened to let it slip. He seemed to know about the treasury. Hells, he even knew the vault would be unguarded today."
Oliver felt a chill up his spine. "You entered through the vault door? Not a secret passage, but the front fucking door of the royal treasury?"
It was a trap all along. Someone knew who Quincey was and set him up to be caught on this day.
A frustrated groan escaped his lips, and he flicked Quincey's forehead. "How can you be so naive? How could you be so trusting? The exit that man wanted you to go down leads to the barracks! You would be caught the moment you leave the passage."
Quincey trembled. "But... he seemed so knowledgeable about the palace."
"Think back. What did the man look like? Were there any distinguishable features or markings?" Oliver urged.
Quincey rubbed his forehead, which was now red. "He was hooded... but tall. I remember that.. Very pale." His eyes lightened. "Ah! He had a mark on the back of his hand. Looked like some animal, but I can remember clearly."
"A bear?"
Quincey's brow creased. "That seems right. He didn't let me see it clearly, but I think that fits."
"Fucking Yonsu," Oliver muttered. Of course, the Ravager King would conspire to remove the thing that threatened Piers' legitimacy. If Piers lost the throne, Yonsu would lose his foothold in Bierze.
"Who's Yonsu?"
"A story for another time. Now, we need to get out. When it comes to the palace's layout, you should only trust the person who has ceaselessly studied the secured scrolls of Bierze."
"Why does this matter?"
"Because these scrolls include the architecture and blueprints of the palace throughout the years," Oliver explained.
"Unfortunately, I am fresh out of architectural scholars," Quincey said with a scoff.
Oliver placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's where you're wrong, soldier. You have me, don't you?"
"You? Wait—soldier? What?" Quincey stammered with a flustered look.
Oliver grabbed his arm and led him to another exit. "This one leads to the gardens."
Quincey hesitated. "Didn't you just say I trusted too easily? Should I trust your words?"
"You have what I need," Oliver said, pointing at his bag. "So you hold the leverage."
Quincey sighed and shook his head. "If I were a sane man, I would have beaten you to death the moment I saw you."
"We're breaking into the king's treasury. There is nothing sane about either one of us."
"That's the most honest thing I have heard in years." Quincey laughed and held out a hand. "Quincey. Quincey Bell."
Oliver took his hand and smiled when he heard the same introduction as before. "Oliver."
"Come on, Oli, we should get out of here as soon as possible."
He led him to another hidden door he remembered from his years of study in his past life and moved a few dials before it clicked open.
They moved slowly through the tunnels, Quincey supporting Oliver from time to time until they reached another door. Oliver opened it carefully and peeked out into the gardens. Luckily no one was near.
They slipped out, covered their tracks, and hid between the large bushes. However, Quincey slowed once he could see Oliver in the light. He couldn't stop his body from trembling in horror as he examined the wounds.
Oliver's light-colored hair was streaked with red blood. His clothes were loose on his body, so the wide collar exposed much of his neck, chest, and back. Quincey could see the horrible bruises and deep gashes that covered his exposed skin. Even his face was swollen and cut. He had steel shackles on his arms, legs, and neck. The skin was raw and bleeding from where the iron chaffed and cut his flesh. His hands were ripped open, and his feet were wrapped up, but the blood was already seeping through the bandages.
Oliver turned back, uncaring about his wounds. "We have no time."
Quincey inhaled a shaky breath and nodded. They discreetly moved through the gardens but heard panicked voices approaching.
Oliver pulled Quincey aside and listened to the clamor.
"He must be found immediately!"
"We cannot let the Royal Consort escape."
"It will be your head if you don't find him!"
Oliver cursed as he observed the situation. The guards were rushing about and starting the enter the garden. Oliver glanced back at Quincey and saw fear etched into his eyes.
Oliver couldn't let him suffer Piers' cells again, but Oliver was moving slower than usual, and his blood was leaving a trail.
"Do you have somewhere to go?" He asked Quincey.
"What?"
"A village? A home?"
Quincey shook his head. "Destroyed... by Ravagers."
Quincey didn't understand why Oliver looked at him with pity. It made him embarrassed but also warm inside. After his mother was killed in the Ravager attack, he didn't have anyone to rely on and became a petty thief so he could search for the last of his father's possessions. Antony and Aaron Kardos had protected and supported him the best they could from afar, but it wasn't the same bond he had with his family. He was kept at a distance under the banner of safety.
But now, this unknown man treated him sincerely.
Oliver sighed. "If you are willing, I should have men waiting south of Bierze at the cusp of Camwood Cavern."
"Wait—what are you planning?"
"The guards' attention will be diverted, so do not waste this opportunity." He pointed southeast from their current position. "There should be a broken gate in that direction. Get out of here and meet up with my men. Look for Ian and Mark. Let them know I sent you."
"I can't leave while you play bait."
Oliver shook his head. "I need your help on this. Get out of here."
"They can kill you."
"They can't kill me that easily," Oliver said, pushing him back. "Especially when I have someone waiting for me on the inside."
"Oli! This is stupid!"
Oliver smiled. "Just tell me how I look."
Quincey gaped at the unexpected question. "Like shit."
Oliver frowned. "This will not go over well with my husband. You should go quickly because I have not yet seen him enraged."
"I can't let you go alone."
"Soldier! Obey your General's command." The forceful words subconsciously fell from Oliver's mouth.
However, Quincey didn't seem to be taken aback by Oliver's tone. Instead, he almost saluted to obey the commands as if it was ingrained in him. Instead, he trembled and clutched his hand around the ring hanging from his neck.
"Fuck. You better live." Quincey said as he turned and left in the direction Oliver pointed.
Oliver took a deep breath and checked his feet. They were not in the best shape, and though the elixir helped, it couldn't close his wounds immediately.
He gritted his teeth and ran back towards the palace through the gardens. He didn't conceal his steps, and the guards took notice of the noises. They started to rush towards him.
Although grievously wounded, Oliver evaded the guards as he reached the palace walls. He could hear the chatter from the guests in the ballroom. He grabbed the vines creeping up the palace walls.
He heard the people in the ballroom just a couple of floors above him. The attendant announced in a loud voice, "Entering, Draconis Ladon Lyrell, King of Rucrea!"
The ballroom fell silent, and Oliver grinned as he started to climb.
It didn't matter if this was Piers' coronation or that several Kingdoms were in attendance. Kings and hells be damned if they try to block him from Draco.
No matter what was going to reunite with his husband.
••••••A/N••••••
It took a long time for Quincey to make a reappearance!
Whenever I saw a comment asking about the heir, I was seriously giddy. I'm so happy to officially introduce you to the heir and rightful king of Bierze.
Also... sorry about the cliffhanger... again. ❤️