[ThorenVald Estate—Later—Leif’s Chamber—Leif’s POV]

Eryndor knelt at my feet, his long hair falling like a curtain as his hands gently brushed ointment across my ankles. The rope burns stung like fire under his touch.

"Issshhhhhh!" I hissed, jerking back.

"Stay still, Leif," he said calmly, not even flinching. His tone was less healer, more annoyed babysitter.

Meanwhile, Nick was circling me like a headless chicken. "Oh gods, oh no, what if it scars? What if it’s something serious? What if you get an infection and lose your leg, My lord?!"

"Nick, stop," I groaned. "I’m not dying from rope burns."

And then—like the universe said ’let’s add drama’ —Alvar walked in.

He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t say a word. He just appeared behind Eryndor like the Grim Reaper on casual Friday and said, low and flat:

"I will apply it. Step back."

Eryndor blinked. I blinked. Nick blinked. My crimson pup blinked. Even Zephyy blinked on my shoulder and muttered, "Master... your man is too possessive."

’Thanks for the update, Zephyy. I know that.’

Eryndor let out a long-suffering sigh and handed Alvar the bowl of ointment. "I suppose I don’t need to ask why you’re this possessive over him everytime."

Alvar knelt at my feet, his eyes like frozen steel. "Good. Then you’ll stay away from my man."

Eryndor arched a brow. "Relax, Grand Duke. I like girls."

Without missing a beat, Alvar started smoothing the ointment over my rope burns, his fingers surprisingly gentle. "I used to like girls too."

The room went still.

Then Alvar looked up at Eryndor, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "But my Leif’s charm is unbearable. Normal men could fall head over heels for him."

. . .

. . .

There was a silence so thick I could’ve cut it with a butter knife.

Zephyy twitched. "Master... your man is—"

’I know, Zephyy. I know. He’s head over heels.’

Alvar’s cool hands trailed over my legs, soothing the angry marks. He lifted his head slightly. "Did you hurt anywhere else?"

"My knees."

"Alright. I’ll apply ointment during bedtime," he said, matter-of-factly.

. . .

. . .

Eryndor, sighing like he’d aged fifty years in one sitting, stood. "Then I should leave—"

"Wait." Alvar’s voice sliced the air like a blade.

Eryndor paused, his shoulders stiff. "...What now, Grand Duke?"

Alvar rose to his feet, towering. "You are an elf healer. You have healing powers. Why waste time with ointment? Why didn’t you use them on Leif?"

Flat. Sharp. Accusing.

Eryndor didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head and said coolly, "We elves cannot use our power on someone who is... divine. It will not work."

We are all confused.

Nick tilted his head in confusion and asked, "But... Lord Leif isn’t divine!"

Eryndor stared at us and then smirked faintly, his lips curling with elf-like arrogance. "Humans truly are dumb."

"...Wow," I said flatly. "Not offended at all, Eryndor."

His eyes softened as he glanced at me. "Except you, Leif. You’re the exception."

And then, just like that, he swept out of the chamber, cloak fluttering dramatically. I slumped back on the bed.

. . .

What the hell did he mean by divine? Forget it. My brain is tired. I need Sleep. Sleep needs me.

"Nick," I sighed. "Prepare my bath."

He scrambled to his feet with a frantic nod and bolted like I’d asked him to fetch holy water. I turned to Alvar. His expression was distant, brows furrowed in thought.

"What is it?" I asked softly, placing my hand over his.

He blinked, then smiled faintly—rare, warm, and dangerous in how it melted me. His hands cupped my face. "Nothing. Let me help you with your bath, okay?"

"...Alright."

His eyes, however, flickered away. He wasn’t telling me something.

Then, Alvar’s gaze landed on my shoulder. His lips curled faintly. "What’s that ugly, weird-colored cat doing there? Did you pick it up from the streets?"

Silence. Dead silence.

On my shoulder, Zephyy went rigid .

"...EXCUSE ME?!"

HHe screeched—though only I could hear him. His fur fluffed so violently he looked like a blue pom-pom about to explode. "DID THAT ICE-BLOCK GRAND DUKE JUST CALL ME UGLY?! A—A CAT?!"

’Zephyy, calm down—’

"NO, I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I AM A DIVINE DRAGON! THE SKY-SUNDERING, TEMPLE-DESTROYING, GOD-SLAYING BLUE DRAGON OF LEGEND! AND HE JUST CALLED ME A... A... FURBALL?! OH, I WILL BITE HIS ARROGANT FACE OFF!!"

I slapped a hand over Zephyy’s tiny body before he could leap at Alvar’s head. To everyone else, it probably looked like I was restraining a very wriggly kitten.

"Stay still, Leif," Alvar muttered, utterly unfazed. His sharp eyes narrowed on Zephyy. "It’s twitching. Like an ill-bred stray."

Zephyy thrashed under my palm, his tiny claws hooking my sleeve. "STRAAAY?! STRAY?! MASTER, LET ME AT HIM! I WILL BURN HIS EYEBROWS OFF WHILE HE SLEEPS!!"

’Zephyy, stop!’ I whispered frantically. ’He can’t hear you!’

"THAT MAKES IT WORSE!" Zephyy wailed in my head. "HE THINKS I’M A CAT! A CAT! OH, MY DIGNITY! MY GLORIOUS, DIVINE DIGNITY!!!"

Alvar gave me a sharp look. "Leif, why are you holding that ugly creature like it’s worth anything?"

I froze. "...Because I’m very attached to this... ugly creature."

Zephyy went silent. Then sniffled dramatically in my head. "...You think I’m ugly too, Master?"

’No! No, you’re the most majestic, terrifying, divine being I’ve ever met.’

"...Good save," Zephyy huffed. "But I still want to bite him."

My crimson baby tilted its head, then gave Zephyy what looked suspiciously like a smirk

. As if the little beast actually understood the situation and was thoroughly entertained by it.

Meanwhile, me?

I was restraining a divine dragon from committing homicide on my boyfriend.

***

[Leif’s Chamber Bathroom—Later—Alvar’s Pov]

Eryndor’s words wouldn’t leave me.

We cannot heal the Divine. Our power does not work on them.

They echoed like a curse in my skull, circling again and again, gnawing at the edges of my control.

I looked down at Leif. He had fallen asleep against me, cheek warm against my shoulder, lashes damp from steam. Completely at peace. Completely unaware of the storm clawing through my mind.

Carefully, I tightened my hold on his arms and rose from the bath. He stirred faintly in my grip, lips parting, a soft sigh escaping as I carried him toward the chamber. My chest ached.

He stirred faintly, his fingers brushing my chest, his lips forming an almost inaudible sound.

"...Alvar."

My heart clenched. Even in sleep, he sought me. But my mind, however, was still burning.

Divine? Could Eryndor mean... Leif?

No. Impossible. He had never healed, never shown even a flicker of power. He laughed, stumbled, and argued like any other spoiled noble. He was—he is—ordinary.

And yet... why did Eryndor say it like that? Why does my gut twist at the thought?

I set him gently on the bed, dried the droplets clinging to his pale skin, and tucked the blankets around him. He stirred again, instinctively rolling into me the moment I slid beside him. His hand found my chest, curling there like it belonged.

"...Mmm." His sleepy murmur brushed my skin as he snuggled closer.

A soft laugh slipped past my lips. Gods, even half-asleep he tied me in knots. I lowered my chin, pressing a kiss to his damp hair.

"You’re so mysterious, Leif." My voice came out rougher than I intended.

He only made a little sound, burrowing deeper into my warmth as if he hadn’t just dropped the weight of ten questions into my life.

I stared at him. At the steady rise and fall of his chest. At the curve of his mouth, too soft, too unguarded.

If you are Divine... why haven’t you awakened, Leif? And if you do... will you still be mine to hold?

A cold fear slid through me.

What if he really has some power and, once revealed, is something that would tear him away—drag him to gods, to fate, to wars no human could touch? What if the very thing that made him him was the one thing I could never protect him from?

My hand tightened in the sheets around him.

"Many things are happening around you, Leif. And it’s scaring me." I whispered the words into his hair, tasting both vow and confession. Then, lower, so only he could hear, "But I am here. Always. I will not let you slip from my grasp again... not to gods, not to fate, not to anyone."

He breathed softly against my chest, utterly trusting.

And I lay awake, holding him tighter than before—because if the world truly meant to claim him, then it would have to come through me.