In the grey pre-dawn light, leather straps creaked, swords rattled in their scabbards, and sleepy murmurs mingled with the crackle of dying embers. Errol and Moe had already eaten breakfast and were now drinking hot, bitter tea from tin mugs.

Moe glanced at Errol, who still hadn't parted with that scrap of cloth. This was serious. His older brother was truly head over heels in love. Seeing it was extremely strange, but Errol really might end a war for this stranger from the neutral forest. Well, in any case, it was better than continuing the pointless bloodshed.

Moe mused with amusement how he would explain to the King of Raumlivaria that his heir had gone mad for some guy who was most likely from the enemy kingdom.

One of their brave lads ran up to them. Saluted.

"Your Highness Errol, Your Highness Moe."

And the lad recounted what had happened overnight and also mentioned that people from Fitasentia had been snooping around the neutral forest, and a planted spy had revealed they were searching for a cloak dropped by the ailing prince.

"You gave strict orders to report everything, especially if something like this happens," he added hesitantly, looking at Errol, trying to figure out if he was doing the right thing, "...so that's why I'm telling you."

Errol laughed.

"Yes, yes, Fetsa, good job! You won't get a sparring match from me today!"

Fetsa groaned quietly, and Moe snorted, belatedly covering his mouth with his hand. He buried his face in his tea mug. One more sound and he'd get two sparring sessions in a row instead of one!

Yesterday was supposed to be the last day of their negotiations, and today they were packing up and heading home. Moe had also heard something about a prince being required to attend, but he hadn't been at the negotiations on any of the days. Moe had already thought it was a simple ruse, but people reported that the prince did exist and that he had fallen ill with a fever. He'd heard in passing that Errol had even persistently sent a healer and special herbs to their camp, but they had refused. However, it seemed that yesterday the prince was already in better condition, but the delegation clearly saw no use in him and hadn't even bothered to introduce him to them. As Moe understood it, the local prince in the Kingdom of Fitasentia wasn't popular or held in any esteem, and the kingdom's representatives had confirmed this once again. Moe grunted. Well, that was their business. Though, for his brother sitting opposite him, it didn't matter who his beautiful stranger was, although after Fetsa's words, it had become as clear as day. Moe sighed again, seeing the mysterious glint in Errol's eyes.

***

Darkness had long since swallowed the palace outside the window, but Yuujin wasn't sleeping. He tossed and turned, pressing his palm to his mouth to stifle his moans. He imagined those strong hands that had held him. Hot lips on his neck. Rough palms spreading his legs. A tongue sliding over his body, making him arch with pleasure.

"Ah…"

Yuujin moaned, imagining how the handsome man parted his buttocks, how saliva and water from his body mixed, easing the first agonizing thrust… And now Yuujin was on all fours, a strong hand gripping his golden hair, forcing his head lower.

"So sweet and tight, my magical fairy!" the handsome man laughed admiringly and slapped his palm against his buttock.

Yuujin cried out into the pillow, his hips already moving of their own accord to the rhythm of the imagined thrusts. Faster, even faster! How lewd, how indecent! A few more movements and Yuujin came, squeezing his eyelids shut in shame, but even after that, the violet eyes didn't leave his thoughts.

Sunbeams broke through the translucent curtains, painting the room in a soft golden light. The walls, draped in silk the color of young foliage, harmonized with the green bedspread — his favorite, embroidered with silver patterns of grapevines. On the oak table by the window stood dried flowers in glass vessels, and next to it — a book about rare reptiles, open to a page with a serpent-lizard.

Yuujin sat on the edge of the bed, nervously clutching a pillow. The shame of his nightly fantasies still burned his cheeks. His gaze slid over the purple cup of water left on the table. Purple… Like his eyes. Yuujin shuddered, he frowned. Why did he keep remembering him, and even using his beautiful image for such disgraceful things? Yuujin sighed, realizing what a bad person he was. There was a delicate knock on the door.

"Your Highness, it's time for breakfast."

"Yes, thank you."

And with a sinking heart, Yuujin stepped into the corridor.

The dining hall of Fitasentia, bathed in the soft light of crystal chandeliers, seemed the embodiment of coziness — were it not for the icy silence hanging between the members of the royal family. On the table, covered with a snow-white tablecloth embroidered with silver patterns, stood exquisite dishes: roasted guinea fowl in wine sauce, fruits dusted with powdered sugar, casseroles, and fragrant spiced pies. The whole family was gathered, but no one was enjoying the food.

"You have disgraced us!"

Father slammed his fist on the table, making the porcelain cups tremble. Mother frowned, picking at a piece of pie with her fork, not even looking at him.

"I… I was ill…" was all Yuujin could mutter, convulsively clutching the edge of his milk-silk shirt.

"Even a sick man should have at least greeted the prince of Raumlivaria!" Father exploded. "And you? You ran away?"

His older sister Philimona, looking at him with cold contempt, said quietly:

"The serpent should have eaten you there."

Yuujin clenched his fists under the table. He desperately wanted to cry, but he knew it wasn't fitting for his status or his gender.

"Leave him," the King said, sharply clicking his knife against his plate as he cut the meat. "He's useless anyway."

Yuujin sat with downcast eyes, his plate remained almost untouched. He picked up his fork, then immediately put it down — a lump stuck in his throat, as if he were choking on his own shame. And with that, breakfast ended.

The war with Raumlivaria had officially stalled — both sides were negotiating, but without much zeal. Delegations came and went, maps were redrawn, terms discussed… but no one was in a hurry to sign a peace treaty.

Yuujin, meanwhile, began disappearing again, now in the garden, now in the library. No one looked for him — and he was glad. The fascinating books, the melodious nightingales, and the lush roses didn't look at him with contempt. They didn't whisper that he was the family's disgrace. Among them, he could be himself — and it was wonderful.

And also, however much he denied it, his heart ached for those enchanting violet eyes. The mysterious handsome man, who was he? Yuujin often thought about it. He hadn't worn any distinguishing marks of royalty, not a single piece of jewelry — just a belt with a golden dragon and thin trousers — it was doubtful he was a highborn noble.

Yuujin touched his pierced earlobe, where a small, neat verdellite earring sparkled. All highborn nobles were required to wear earrings. But then again, his desired young man didn't seem common either: he moved too fluidly, his hands were too strong and sturdy. Could it be that he had encountered one of the high commanders of the Kingdom of Raumlivaria?

He even wrote to his dear friend Aselet, asking if he knew any high-ranking people with eyes the color of royal violet petals.

And a month later, an official letter arrived from Raumlivaria, causing an uproar throughout the entire kingdom.