While Oliver was escaping through the treasury, Draco stepped out of a carriage. He was dressed in a black suit with a cape draping over a shoulder. His royal emblem was used as a clasp for his cloak, but a silver brooch with a purple diamond was pinned to his black cravat. His hair was intricately braided, and despite his protests, he wore a circlet crown that sat above his forehead. It wasn't embellished but was carved out of onyx with a scalelike pattern carved into it.
For the first time in either life, the King of Rucrea was going to make an appearance. It was the only way he could think of to force Piers to bring out Oliver.
He and his men were the last to arrive at the palace, and he felt sick seeing the number of guards and embellished carriages. It was a deplorable farce.
After a week of searching and tearing apart the underworld of Bierze, he was wrathful. His body trembled with rage, and the dragon yearned to be released. He had to fight to suppress his scales, but his claws and fangs were elongated, and his red eyes were more monster than man. Heat radiated off his body, ready to burn the world in his wake.
He was going to bring Oliver home with him, and then he was going to gift Oliver the ruins of the Bierzen palace.
And when his rage was sated, he would wrap Oliver in furs, take him back to the lands of pure white snow, and worship him to make up for their time apart.
He walked up the stairs to the ballroom; his footsteps were heavy and menacing. Aris and Castor flanked his sides, afraid to make unnecessary noises. They desired to bring their second King home, mainly because Draco's overwhelming pressure was unbearable.
Yet, there was a glimmer of hope. Max and Morris had confirmed that Oliver was in the palace. He was taken into a greenhouse one afternoon. That evening, over two dozen corpses were taken out of the same greenhouse.
Aris casually handed their invite to the servant who was announcing guests.
"Your name, sir?" He said, not bothering to look up.
Aris glared at the pompous man. He was furious that someone would dare ignore their King, who was on the breach of shifting. "He is Draconis Ladon Lyrell. The North Star and Great Dragon. King of Rucrea."
Draco pursed his lips as his full name and titles were spilled.
The servant jerked his head up and turned pale when he saw Draco. Any man could wear a crown and call himself king, but only a select few would bear the red eyes of the Lyrell family. And less would have the bearing to be worthy of such titles.
"I...I apologize. I w...will announce n...now." He stuttered.
He etched the names and titles in his heart and turned towards the ballroom. With a loud voice, "Entering Draconis Ladon Lyrell, King of Rucrea."
The ballroom's murmuring had fallen silent. Draco stepped inside, and a collective gasp was heard. Everyone had known that the Rucrean King was young, but his age and demeanor were surprising.
Draco didn't bother with the people looking at him or the men and women who batted their eyes toward him. Draco didn't waste his time on the fools clamoring to curry favor with him and ignored them.
He knew Oliver would not be in attendance, but he still couldn't help but desperately search for the familiar white hair. When he confirmed he wasn't there, his dark mood plummeted further.
Aris and Castor remained quiet, learning that one does not try to comfort a dragon. The Rucrean soldiers also knew this and kept their gazes on the crowd. They would stop anyone from approaching. They didn't need to protect their King. Rather, they needed to protect others from him.
Draco nodded a greeting toward Imran and Pope Apollon Commodus, but they didn't approach him. They already bore the wounds from stopping him from raiding Bierze.
Draco didn't go to speak with them because he was already honed on the four Kardoses standing off to the side. All of them seemed stressed and worried. Sophia was worse than before, her eyes still red and her face pale.
He approached the worn family and noticed a new face, and he suspected this person was Ewen. He looked meek and had a large bandage over his cheek. The boy cowered behind the others, and Draco could not help but feel guarded when he saw him.
He had thought that Ewen was a prisoner in their previous life, but Oliver had let his words slip in Rucrea and called him a traitor. Draco remembered how Ewen was present at Oliver's execution, begging him to speak even though they had removed Oliver's tongue. He had never thought deeply about Ewen's actions until now, especially when Ewen was supposed to be a prisoner alongside Oliver and Antony.
He fixed a stony gaze on Ewen, and disgust rolled inside him. How dare this bastard be well when Oliver was still missing.
Draco added another name to the list of those he would kill for harming Oliver.
Draco refused to look at him, concerned that his true emotions would rise above the surface. He turned his attention the Aaron, Sophia, and Conrad. "It's good to see you again."
Aaron lowered his head a little. "Your Majesty."
Draco frowned. "As I said before, call me Draco. Please."
"We wouldn't dare be so rude," Conrad answered. His voice was hoarse, and exhaustion was laced with each word.
"There's no point in such overbearing formalities." He said, surprising the family. These were his in-laws. He would never dream of having them bow to a title.
Draco nodded to Aris, and Aris directed his men stepped to encircle them. They had one job for the night, protect the Kardoses.
Sarah had infiltrated their home the first day Oliver went missing, but she could not get close to them to pass a message. She had protected them from afar, but this also meant they didn't know about their relatives' statuses.
"General Antony has been retrieved and is recovering safely," Draco said quietly so no one else could hear.
Aaron trembled, and his eyes turned red. He clenched his fist. "Thank you... I cannot begin to repay you."
Draco shook his head. "I only asked for a favor. The General has strong friendships in the south, and they were willing to help." He nodded his head towards Imran.
Aaron and Conrad both looked in Imran's direction. Imran had noticed their gazes immediately. He smiled and raised his glass to them. Both men returned the gesture and thanked him sincerely in their hearts.
He then turned towards Sophia. "I have to say that I am quite impressed with Avery."
Sophia trembled, and her hands covered her mouth. "My Avery?"
"He had found his way to me and made me privy to the ordeal you were suffering. He is with my men and safe." He bowed his head a little. "I wanted to send word, but I couldn't find a way to do so discreetly. I apologize for making you worried."
Sophia shook her head. "No. This is enough." She hastily wiped her tears, and Aaron pulled her into his arms.
"Your Majesty... my gods, I don't know how to thank you." He said.
Draco shook his head, declining any thanks. However, something in his eyes must have exposed his exhaustion and frustration with his week-long struggle that still held no fruit. Sophia reached out and rested her hand on his arm. She couldn't muster out more words, but the simple touch was enough to show her unwavering gratitude.
Conrad also looked relieved, but fear still lingered in his eyes. "Perhaps, have you any information of Oliver's situation?"
Draco frowned. "I apologize. I have used every means possible, but I can't..." Draco's voice threatened to break. He took a breath to steady himself. "I am confident Oli is alive. He is probably thinking of ways to escape now."
Sophia's small hand gripped his arm for comfort. He wasn't sure if she meant to comfort him or herself. Perhaps they both needed it. He raised and hand and rested it gently on top of hers, exposing the white mark of his marriage.
Sophia, although distressed, noticed the peculiarities of Draco's demeanor when Oliver was mentioned, especially the prevalent worry painted on his face. His hand's marking was similar to Oliver's, although she saw Oliver's briefly before he was taken away. What also caught her eye was the purple diamond pinned to Draco's clothes. She recognized it as something he had given Oliver a long time ago.
"Sir... you and Oliver..."
She couldn't finish because the trumpets announced the arrival of Piers. Draco's aura turned cold as he glared at the figure who had just entered the ballroom.
Piers wore his ornate crown with a gold and red robe hanging from his shoulders. His head was held high, but Piers seemed haughty and callow compared to Draco's quiet and imposing entrance.
He could not anticipate Draco appearing, so he didn't understand that the aristocrats and kingdoms scrutinized him. Two young kings were in attendance, but only one deserved to be called king.
Piers walked down the stairs with his royal guards in tow, all wearing bright golden armor. Draco barely held back a growl when he saw Tomin trailing behind Piers.
Tomin had also noticed Draco and blanched when he saw the crown sitting on his head. His fear was palpable when he realized who he had offended.
On the other hand, Piers didn't notice Draco's presence. He had ignored everyone and practically rushed to his throne like a greedy child. Most new kings would show respect to tenured kings, but Piers seemed ignorant of these customs. Many flashed a look toward Draco and Apollon.
Piers waved his hand, and attendants emerged with trays of champagne to hand out to the guests. However, Draco's eyes were drawn to a guard has rushed towards Tomin and whispered something in his ear.
Tomin's face turned dark, and he said something harshly to the guard. He pushed him away and stormed out of the ballroom and onto the terrace.
Outside of the palace, Oliver was climbing up the palace walls. He could hear the guards scrambling below him and yelling out orders. The adrenaline and the elixir had pushed him past his limits, and he moved up the walls nimbly. He could sink into the vines and out of view for the most part.
As he approached the terrace, the vines started to disperse, and the guards below saw him. They ordered him to come down, but Oliver continued to climb.
Sometimes the shackles would clang against the wall, but it was more motivation to keep moving upward. His hands caught the grooves of the wall and decorations and then launched himself upwards.
His hand finally grasped the top of the railing of the terrace. He adjusted his grip and started to pull himself over the ledge. However, a guttural yell surprised him. He looked up and saw a Tomin rushing towards him. Oliver threw himself to the side, nearly losing his grip and falling.
Tomin's sword rang against the railing, completely missing its target. Oliver used that moment to jump over the ledge and land safely on the terrace. He hissed as the pain in his feet started to creep back into Oliver's awareness. He swayed a little, trying to focus his gaze on his new opponent.
Tomin rushed towards him again, but Oliver was already gaining his bearings and twisted to avoid the strike. The sword rushed passed him, bringing Tomin within his range.
He struck out with his hand and slammed it into Tomin's shoulder. He hit the joint perfectly, and the pop sounded when the shoulder dislocated. Tomin cried out, and the pain fell to the ground.
Oliver turned and placed his hand on the door handle leading into the ballroom. He had been aware of his surroundings and knew that the terrace led to the royal ballroom. The doors were glass but obscured by a large curtain, so no one could see Oliver standing outside. However, he could hear the chatter on the other side of the door and knew that Piers' ceremony was underway.
He didn't want to be in the same room as Piers. However, he also knew that inside that room was Draco. He turned the handle and opened the door but faltered when he heard Piers' voice through the curtains.
"Thank you, everyone, for joining me during this time. As of today, I have ascended the throne of Bierze. I promise to lead Bierze to prosperity and establish ourselves even further." Piers started.
Oliver wanted to scoff. Piers will lead to the destruction of Bierze.
A glint of a sword flashed in his peripherals. He stepped backward, avoiding the strike. The blade was caught in the curtain and ripped down, giving Oliver a clear look at the ballroom. His breath stopped at the moment the curtains fluttered, and his eyes honed in on the tall figure in black. Sinister and beautiful at the same time.
Draco was desperately close.
Oliver used the weight of his body and struck out with his elbow. It cracked against Tomin's nose, breaking it. While Tomin was off-balanced, Oliver kicked Tomin's chest plate, and he was tossed on the ground.
No one seemed to hear the clatter of his armor hitting the ground. They all seemed focused on Piers' speech.
His hand was once again on the door to open it fully when Piers started to speak again. "Also, I would like to announce something of great importance to my heart. After long discussions, old grievances have been reconciled, and new affections have bloomed. I have re-established my engagement with Lord Oliver Kardos."
Oliver was vexed to the point he spat out blood. At the same time, a primal growl shook the ballroom, causing the crowd to scream and scurry away from Draco.
"I dare you to repeat those words." Draco's feral voice rumbled. "Do it, and give me the pleasure of digging my claws into your throat."
The royal guards stirred, and some Bierzen aristocrats, with ignorant bravery, tried to call out to silence Draco.
However, Draco's eyes only ignited with deep loathing. The dragon was creeping out, and his scales started covering his hands and neck.
"You dare try to claim what isn't yours!" Draco's snarl silenced everyone, and Piers scrambled back, retreating into the seat of his throne.
Oliver grinned, enamored by Draco's possessive protection. He was about to call out when he noticed a shadow moving behind him. Oliver turned back and confronted Tomin, who was rushing toward him with a sword in the air.
Oliver stepped forward to greet Tomin. Tomin did not expect this movement and clumsily swung his sword while his dislocated arm hung limply to the side. He thrashed around his sword, and Oliver evaded the messy swings. However, Tomin was stupidly relentless and lifted his leg and roughly kicked Oliver.
Oliver flew backward and heard the deafening sound of glass shattering. He landed heavily on marble floors and rolled a few times before he came to a stop. His left eye was obscured by the blood dripping down his forehead, but he didn't panic. He had fought half-blind for too many years.
He watched Tomin run towards him again and swing his blade. Oliver stepped to the side and hooked his arm around Tomin's. He twisted his body, bringing Tomin's dislocated arm with him. Tomin yelled in pain, but Oliver didn't bother with the cries. He bent his body, picked up the fallen sword, and placed the tip under Tomin's chin.
Oliver's hand was shaking, and those who knew anything about swordsmanship knew that Oliver was barely hanging on. A gust of wind could blow him over. However, no one wanted to approach him because of the bloody smile that stretched across his lips.
Oliver's eyes glazed over with vexation. "This old ghost will send you the halls of hell."
Despite the immense amount of blood he had lost, Oliver's senses were sharp. He could make out the murmurs and whispers beneath the screams of the guests. He could also see the people scrambling to move away from him.
He knew he looked monstrous right now. He was covered in blood and bruises. Nothing about his appearance revealed that he was the noble son of Duke Kardos.
As much as he wanted to look around and study his surroundings, he couldn't be careless. He could sense other guards starting to come closer.
A guard thrusts his sword toward Oliver. Oliver moved the blade away from Tomin and blocked the attack. He was pushed back a couple of steps. As the guard rushed him again, Oliver parried and then kicked out, his foot landing on the man's chest and throwing him back. His bloody footprint stained the gold armor.
Another guard took advantage of the situation and attacked. Oliver was a little slow, blocking his blow, and his legs couldn't handle the extra strain. He fell onto his back and coughed out a mouthful of blood. He saw the blade slashing down toward him, and he rolled out of the way.
However, another blade was ready to greet him. Oliver cursed and held his arm to block it, positioning the steel shackle to catch it.
A loud ringing sounded as the shackle collided with the blade, and Oliver felt it bite into his skin. However, he didn't stay still. He threw himself to the side, avoiding another sword, but had to lift his sword again to block yet another guard. His hands could no longer cope, and his sword clattered on the ground.
Oliver pushed himself back up to his feet. His wounds had reopened, and his shirt was soaked with sweat and blood. His feet were leaving red footprints on the white marble, much like when he was marched to the executioner's platform in his previous life.
Oliver lowered his stance on trembling legs as he saw three guards launch their attack. He was swordless, but he was still a warrior.
However, he was wrapped up in a strong embrace before he could react. He was pressed against furs and a powerful chest, and he couldn't help but lean into it.
Finally... he was where he belonged... with Draco.
"I swear the gods and hells; I will drown you in fire and blood if you come closer!" Draco's threat was chilling and made many fall to their knees.
However, Oliver laughed happily. At this moment, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.