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"Kishiar, come to my office when you've finished your set of exercises."
Kishiar Odiea stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his voice. His blade froze midair, and a bead of sweat trickled down his jaw as he turned his head to look at his commander at the edge of the field.
The Duke of Peletta and commander of the cavalry, Yuder La Orr, had just returned from the royal palace with his adjutant.
As usual, the young man was dressed in his black uniform, adorned with the bare minimum of accessories possible while still looking like a nobleman. The only thing that drew attention to his attire was the numerous war medals on his chest.
Kishiar's gaze lingered for a second longer on the scar that ran from his collar to his ear, before blinking quickly to meet his commander in the eyes. His dark gaze seemed to lay him bare, revealing all the secrets he hid within his heart.
He licked his lips and saluted.
"Yes, commander."
The commander studied him for a long time in silence, then left without a word, heading towards his quarters. His adjutant, Kanna Wand, smiled kindly at him before following her lord.
Kishiar remained motionless as he watched the profile of the man, much younger than himself, disappear down the stairs. His figure seemed so frail, hidden behind his military coat. Thinking back to the past, his brows furrowed and his grip on his sword tightened.
"Hey, Kishiar!"
Finn Eldore's cheerful voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he forcibly removed his gaze from where the commander had disappeared.
"Do you know why the commander is asking for you?"
Kishiar remained silent for a moment before smiling warmly.
"I have my little idea about it," he said, giving him a knowing wink. "But it's a secret."
His twin sister, Hinn, jumped on his back, trying to knock him off.
"Come on, tell us!" She whined, trying to tickle him to make him talk.
"Haha, nice try!" Kishiar laughed, before sending her into the sky using his power.
A long, joyful shout echoed through the training ground as the members burst into laughter around them. Beside him, Nathan Zuckerman sighed, shaking his head side to side, tired of their antics.
Kishiar took a deep breath and knocked on the office door. Water was still dripping from his hair, and he slicked it back, trying his best to look presentable.
"Commander, it's me, Kishiar Odiea."
"You may come in."
At these words, Kishiar opened the door and entered the room. This wasn't the first time he'd been here since returning from the future, but that strange feeling of belonging and déjà vu still lingered.
After all these years, this place had become his, his home. Despite his other residences, these quarters remained the most familiar, the most welcoming.
He approached the current owner, running his fingers along the sofa as his eyes stopped above the fireplace.
"Every time you walk into my office, the first thing you look at is this sword."
Kishiar's gaze shifted to the commander.
"And then you look me in the eye."
Kishiar smiled.
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No," Yuder La Orr replied clearly. "But it's interesting."
Kishiar approached him.
Rather than taking a seat like any other cavalry member, he stepped forward and dropped to one knee at his feet. He raised his head, his brown eyes once again looking into the commander's.
Yuder lifted his hands from his knees to rest them on his cheeks. Without blinking, he bent down and placed his lips on his before slowly straightening up.
At this chaste and innocent act of love, Kishiar's lips slowly stretched into a delicate smile.
"You fill me with joy, commander."
Yuder finally avoided his gaze by looking into the distance and Kishiar couldn't help but smile lovingly.
How could he not fall in love with his commander again?
Despite the years that had passed, despite the secrets that had been revealed. How could he keep his legs from buckling when those eyes, as black as night, began to shine as they looked at him? When those lips sighed his name and those hands dug into his skin.
Kishiar covered his commander’s hands in his and pressed them reverently to his lips. His teeth scraped against one of the palms, and Yuder flinched, unconsciously shifting his legs.
Gently. Slowly.
His young commander was innocent again in this game. He should be softer with him.
"Commander?"
Yuder blinked several times before bringing his eyes back to him.
"Yes?"
"May I sit you on my lap?" He asked, flashing his best smile.
Yuder hesitated upon hearing his request. Under his doubtful gaze he tilted his head to the side, making his best doe eyes to convince him, and his smile widened when he nodded imperceptibly.
His commander was so weak in front of his face.
Without waiting for him to change his mind, Kishiar rose and sat beside him before pulling him onto his lap. Yuder stiffened as he let him, his hands hovering awkwardly, not knowing where to place them.
"You can put them on my shoulders," he said, gripping one of his thighs firmly.
Yuder did as he was told and Kishiar buried his head in his neck, taking a deep breath in.
The fruity scent wasn't there. His commander was not yet an omega.
Kishiar closed his eyes and recalled Yuder's second-gender manifestation in the first game. Would it play out the same way? Would he lose control again and ravage his commander for a long, agonizing week?
He didn't want that.
Even though in the past this predicament had allowed him to get closer to the commander, now that he knew his situation and the future, he could no longer make the same choices.
Kishiar opened his eyes and tightened his grip on the body in his arms. He couldn't let the Diarcas control the empire's situation again.
He looked determinedly at the sword resting above the fireplace. Even if it was of no use to him at the moment, he would always have the opportunity to wield it in due course to prove his identity once again.
In the past, he had only used it during the rebellion to prove the legitimacy of the royal blood that flowed through his veins. And even though he still had no interest in the crown, this time he needed to declare his identity sooner to prevent Katchian from ascending the throne.
If he could, he would remain anonymous, and so would not share a last name with the commander. At least not in this way.
Thanks to his actions, he had already managed to alter the timeline, thus saving lives and preventing accidents. Convincing the commander hadn't been simple, the duke was a suspicious man. But having him on his side had made things easier, his goals were achieved more quickly.
In the back of his mind, his lie weighed on him more and more.
Kishiar sighed.
The Harvest Festival was approaching soon, and therefore, his commander's manifestation. For his safety, he would have preferred him to stay away from the crowds and the festivities, but the emperor had insisted on his presence.
Even though he was adopted and possessed no royal blood, the emperor and empress were very lenient with him and regarded him as a full-fledged member of the family. For a while, rumors circulated that the duke had nearly become the crown prince and that to protect him from an assassination attempt, the emperor had named him Duke of Peletta.
But he himself wasn't sure of the veracity of these words.
Yuder had said very little about himself, and his "brother" had died before he knew they were related.
His memories didn't go back that far, and the Diarcas had worked hard to construct a story for him that even he blindly believed before discovering the truth.
A truth his commander had revealed to him.
Kishiar smiled sadly.
Yuder knew he was a spy for the Diarcas, and yet, he let himself be held. Breathing slowly with his eyes closed, fatigue having overcome him but trusting the person at his side nevertheless. His minty scent had enveloped his young commander, and he knew he would regret it later, but his heart calmed nonetheless.
He raised his hand and tenderly stroked his face as he gazed at him.
He was so much older than Yuder.
When he first saw him again during the exams, he was overwhelmed by the realization and struggled to catch his breath again.
His commander, who had died at the age of 22.
Kishiar closed his eyes, leaning his head back. Since that fateful night, the memory had never left him.
If he had been braver, stronger, more determined.
If he had been less weak, less fearful, less cowardly.
Would Yuder, younger than him, stronger than him, braver than him, have taken up the dagger to commit suicide?
If he had had the courage to kill his commander, his lover.
Would Yuder have suffered less if the blade plunging into his body had been his? If he could have cradled him to soothe his pain.
A bitter smile played on his lips as the smell of blood filled his nostrils. His young commander had planned everything, from magical artifacts that kept him from using divine power and heal him, to his will, which bequeathed him the Divine Sword.
At His Majesty's request, the body had been left to be "discovered," and all traces of the assassination had been erased.
He had returned to his quarters trembling, his eyes staring into space.
How unfortunate it was to die at such a young age. The emperor was so sad that he remained locked in his chambers for several weeks upon learning of his "brother's" death. The nobles made a great fuss over the situation, but their interest faded quickly once the funeral concluded.
He didn't remember.
If Nathan had never told him that he had placed a flower on his corpse, he would have spent his life thinking he had never been to the funeral.
He had no memory of the burial.
On his knees, Yuder stirred. His head sank further into his neck, and he curled up.
Kishiar inhaled.
But now he was alive. They were both alive. They were all alive. No deaths, rebellion, betrayals, natural disasters, monsters, and executions.
For now, this world could still be saved.
Holding the commander tightly in his arms, Kishiar stood up and headed towards the bedroom. He laid him on his bed, took off his shoes, and unbuttoned his uniform, while trying not to wake him. He then did the same for himself and lay down beside him once finished.
The sun was beginning to set. The window was ajar, and a cool breeze caressed them. Kishiar captured Yuder's appearance and etched it into his memory, he didn't want to forget this moment of peace and respite that was offered to him.
His eyes slid over the gloves he hadn't removed. He knew what lay beneath them, and his lips pursed when he thought of how Yuder felt every time he exercised his powers. He wanted to use his divine power to heal him, but he wasn't supposed to be able to use that kind of energy, nor was he supposed to know the commander's condition.
Kishiar approached Yuder and took him in his arms.
If his memories were correct, and they were, the commander was currently receiving treatment from the royal family’s priests. The Diarcas had asked him for information about the reason, and he had lied, citing the royal family's histories of health issues to quell any suspicion.
He was a horrible person. Even though he knew Yuder was suffering, an irrepressible jealousy formed within him when he thought of the priests touching his commander.
He was his and only his. No one knew him better than he did.
He tightened his grip on the body in his arms.
Since Yuder’s manifestation, he had never been able to calm the anxiety that was born in his heart.
And his strong omega, his young commander who inspired respect and who could overturn nature with a snap of his fingers, had never stopped. No matter the dangers, the assassins, the words, and the fingers pointed at him.
Yuder La Orr had persevered until his dying breath to protect them.
To protect the cavalry.
To protect him.
Katchian La Orr had learned of his identity as well as his relationship with the previous commander. The Diarcas were very talkative after all.
Ironically, he had once believed that Yuder was more protected at Peletta than he was within the cavalry.
In the end, it became his grave.
Kishiar buried his head in his commander's hair and breathed in his scent.
Would he still be an omega?
Deep down, Kishiar hoped so.
He wanted to fill the emptiness in his chest.
From the top of the altar, as the guillotine blade gleamed above him, the heads of his allies lay on the ground and the crowd booed him, the only thing in his mind was the blurred face of a smiling man.
And he too began to smile at the thought of finding him again.