[Frojnholm—Same night—Continuation—Lief’s Pov]

The silence after Alvar’s kiss was... loud.

Too loud.

Every torch crackled. Every boot crunched on snow. Every villager’s jaw dropped like hailstones from the sky. I swear, I could almost hear the sound of fifty necks snapping in unison as they all turned to gape at us.

"...MASTER... WHY DID YOU KISS A MAN?!" Zephyy shrieked in my ear, his tiny blue fur puffed up so much he looked like a disgruntled snowball. Thankfully, only I could hear him—otherwise the entire village would’ve exploded on the spot.

Meanwhile, my crimson pup growled low, following the wide, scandalized eyes of the villagers like he was in on the gossip.

And Alvar? He didn’t care. Not one bit.

To make matters worse, he slid one hand around my waist and glared at the villagers with his piercing ice-blue eyes. His voice dropped low and steady and rolled out like distant thunder:

"Since you’ve all seen it, there’s no point in hiding anymore. Leif... is mine. We love each other."

. . .

. . .

There was thunderous silence. My eyeballs almost popped out of my skull... and then THUPPED onto the snow.

"Is... is that...?" one elderly villager croaked to his neighbor.

"Yes," the neighbor whispered, pale as parchment. "It’s... Lord Leif... and... and... the Grand Duke?!"

A ripple spread like fire through the snow. Whispers turned to murmurs, murmurs to shouts, and shouts to full-blown chaos.

"THE GRAND DUKE?!" someone screamed.

"HE KISSED OUR LORD LEIF?!" another shrieked.

"BY THE GODS, IS THIS EVEN LEGAL?!" a burly blacksmith bellowed, gripping his hammer like he was about to forge justice itself.

Alvar’s grip on my waist tightened, iron-clad, like he thought I’d vanish if he let go. His eyes swept the crowd, cold and calculating, yet beneath that steel flickered something softer. Worry. Pride. And—damn it—pure, undiluted possessiveness.

Zephyy twitched beside my ear, tail puffed like a porcupine. "Master... do you always cause riots wherever you go?"

’I... not on purpose. It’s a side effect of love.’

Zephyy tilted his head, then nodded solemnly. "I see."

Then...

’...Wait. Hold on—you can hear me?!’

"Of course," Zephyy blinked. "You’re my master. We’re bonded. We can talk without opening our mouths. It’s Telepathy."

’...Valid,’ I sighed.

Before I could fully process that, Alvar’s voice boomed again, cutting through the hysteria:

"Before any of you dare to judge or spew foolish Pathetic words... remember one thing. You are all alive because of Leif."

. . .

. . .

A chilling silence fell.

I smacked his chest, glaring. "Hey. Don’t threaten them."

He scoffed. "I wasn’t threatening. I was stating facts."

I narrowed my eyes. "No. You were definitely

threatening."

Before our little domestic spat could escalate, Baron Sigurd shuffled forward, raising his hand like a schoolboy. "My lord... may I ask a question?"

I blinked. "Uh... sure?"

He cleared his throat, mustache quivering. "Can two men... truly love each other?"

I smiled faintly. "Of course. Love isn’t about gender—it’s about hearts."

The Baron nodded gravely, as if I’d just given him life-altering wisdom.

Then Nick raised his hand, face pink. "I—I have a question too."

"Go ahead," I said, bracing myself.

He stepped forward nervously. "...Even if two men can love... is this... legal ?"

I blinked at him. "Nick... this is love, not a tax audit."

The villagers erupted into a chorus of confused murmurs, as if I’d just announced that pigs could sprout wings and fly over the village square.

Another hand shot up. Sir Roland, cautiously wobbled forward. "My lord... forgive me, but... if it’s love... uh... then... who’s the husband and who’s the wife?"

I was about to reply when...Alvar’s eyes went glacial.

"Neither. We are equals." His arm tightened around me, possessive enough to make a lesser man weep. "And anyone who dares to put Leif beneath me will regret it."

"E-equals..." Sir Roland stammered, his face turning fifty shades of pale. "Y-yes... of course... Grand Duke, sir." He backed away like he’d just survived a dragon attack.

A young farm girl timidly raised her hand, cheeks flaming brighter than the torchlight. "Um... Lord Leif... if two men kiss... do you... also... you know...?"

Zephyy nearly toppled off my shoulder, tail puffing like a bottlebrush. "OH. MY. GOD. I WANT TO KNOW THAT TOO!"

. . .

. . .

Why... why did it feel like we had just started a full-on RAINBOW EDUCATION: Chapter on Same-Sex Love ?

My knees trembled. I swallowed. "A-Ah... that’s... advanced material. We’ll... cover it in... um... a later lesson. Next question!"

Sir Haldor stepped forward, eyes wide like he’d just discovered fire—or worse, that dragons could purr. "So... you’re saying... love is love... no matter gender?"

I squared my shoulders, channeling my inner professor. "Exactly! It’s not about roles, titles, or who wears the fancy cape. It’s about hearts. Mine beats for Alvar."

A pause. A hush. The villagers seemed frozen, contemplating the universe, love, and possibly what they had for breakfast.

Then Baron Sigurd stepped forward, bowing deeply, "My lord... we don’t care who you love. If you love a monster, or a devil... or even a fire-breathing llama... you will still be our lord. You came into our lives as a light in the darkness... so no matter what you are... you...still..."

The villagers roared, stomping their boots and raising their hands to the sky, "...WILL BE THE SAINT OF FROJNHOLM!!!"

. . .

. . .

Zephyy’s jaw dropped. "Did you just... get knighted for love?!"

I peeked at Alvar, still clutching me possessively, cold eyes scanning the crowd. I whispered, "I guess... it’s a good thing they accepted me, right?"

Alvar’s lips quirked in a tiny, rare smirk. "Yes."

Before I could breathe a sigh of relief, Nick stepped forward, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Now, my lord... you’ve suffered a lot tonight. Maybe it’s time we head back. You need rest."

I nodded, dead tired. "Yes... running through snow—my muscles hate me, Nick."

And then— WHOOSH!

Alvar scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me as if I were a sack of flour—and I immediately started flailing. "Wait! Wait! Alvar! You can’t—put me down!"

"Stop squirming," Alvar said, voice low and sharp. "Everyone knows about us now. There’s nothing to hide. So, stay still, Leif."

I peeked at the villagers. Surprisingly... nothing. No gasps, no fainting, no faint "oh gods, what?" looks. Some stared with awe, some with stone-cold respect—as if I had descended from the sky on a rainbow with a crown of victory.

No hatred, no disgust. Just... acceptance.

Zephyy, still hovering nearby in kitten form, blinked slowly. "Humans... evolving...?"

And just like that, as Alvar strode through the village with me cradled in his arms like I was a fragile flower (or a very spoiled package), I realized something. I felt... safe. Protected. Almost... refreshed.

The snow crunched beneath us, the villagers parted like water, and whispers rolled around us like a soft breeze. And for the first time in days, my lungs filled with not fear, not panic—but relief.

"See, Leif?" Alvar murmured, his lips brushing the side of my head, his voice soft but firm. "Even in front of the world... you’re mine. And they... accept it."

I exhaled, sinking into his arms. "I... think I could get used to this," I admitted.

Somehow... amidst all the chaos, the shouting, and the accidental rainbow education... it felt like home.

And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t hate being carried like this either.