Free Web NovelChapter 398: You and I are Alone
Floating a mere two inches off the polished marble floor directly behind the imperial throne was Norx.
The aristocracy had long whispered rumors of an ancient deity living in the North—a primordial god of creation of sorts—but to see the myth materialized in the flesh, acting with such casual, disrespectful insolence in the presence of the crown, was entirely staggering.
Norx didn’t care about their stares. His legs were crossed comfortably in midair, his dark hair falling over his face as he lazily plucked a frosted grape from a floating silver platter, tossing it into his mouth with a childish, petulant indifference.
Aurelian sat perfectly rigid on the velvet dais, his golden cloak draped over the arms of the throne.
His fingers gripped the carved wood until his knuckles went white.
To the public, his imperial mask was cold and flawless, but the muscle in his jaw was twitching violently.
The proximity of the god, combined with the lingering, deep ache in his own body from the previous day’s carnal chaos, was driving his composure to the absolute brink.
"Hey, shadow chaser, aren’t you bored?" Norx asked.
"Do not speak to me," Aurelian hissed under his breath, his voice a low, lethal vibration that didn’t alter the detached, majestic smile he offered to a passing baron. "You are drawing the attention of the entire vanguard, creature. Maintain some semblance of decorum."
Instead of drifting away, Norx let out a soft, delighted chuckle and leaned forward in midair.
His bare shoulder practically brushed against the midnight-blue velvet of Aurelian’s doublet, his raspy voice dropping into a provocative whisper right against the Emperor’s ear.
"Why should I? Their little mortal whispers are hilarious," Norx drawled, a wicked, knowing smirk slicing across his pale face. "Besides, your mind is completely chaotic right now, shadow-chaser. You’re sitting there pretending to listen to these tedious lords, but your heart is racing because I’m behind you. You want to wrap those heavy hands around my throat again, don’t you?"
Aurelian’s golden eyes flashed with a dangerous, volatile malice. He didn’t turn his head, but his breathing turned shallow, his fingers locking tighter around the armrests. "Keep your tongue behind your teeth, Norx, or I swear to the heavens—"
"Oh, matching threats? How nostalgic," Norx interrupted easily, waving a hand dismissively.
He caught the sharp, heavy gaze of Alaric from across the room and remembered the logistical favor he had promised the large Duke.
The pleasantries were officially over, and it was time to clear the stage. "Come on. You’ve played the majestic sovereign long enough. Let’s grab a drink before you choke on your own pride."
Before Aurelian could voice a single flat refusal, Norx reached down, his tanned fingers lightly catching the Emperor’s wrist beneath the heavy fabric of his sleeve.
With a subtle, gravity-defying tug that carried the absolute, unyielding authority of a primordial force, the god smoothly pulled the Emperor up from his throne.
The sudden movement drew a quiet gasp from the nearest attendants, but before the court could even process the imperial departure, Norx deftly guided the sovereign toward the secluded, arched western exit leading to the private lounge.
Aurelian, oddly, did not struggle. Maybe he had given up. Maybe he just... couldn’t bear to see it.
When Norx told him about the occasion and what it was for, he wanted to burn it all down. He did not like it, he did not even want to hear of it. He had not approved a same-sex marriage, but Norx reminded him that he did not ban it either. After all, he had hoped someday that he could be the one to walk his brother to an altar.
Aurelian had gone quiet, defeated, pained, and away from the god’s eyes, he wept silently. He had lost, and he knew it. And right now, he could not stop the happy ending. He just... felt lonely and wanted to wash his sorrows with alcohol, away from the eyes of his subjects, away from the light of their happiness.
"Come on, don’t sulk," Norx said as he handed him a goblet filled with red wine. "You know, you aren’t the only one losing something."
He looked away, staring at the moon that decided to make its appearance tonight. He had a sad, longing gaze as he stared at the moon. The snow was gradually falling, soft and quiet. "It’s sad to watch," he muttered, bringing his own wine to his lips. "So, let’s just... keep each other company while they have their happy ending. We both know it can never be ours."
Aurelian looked at the god, noticing the sadness in his expression that differed so sharply from his usual haughty self, and then looked back at his own reflection in the deep red wine.
Those who held power, those who could command even life, an entire army, and whose single word could destroy... They were the ones who could do nothing but sit on the sidelines, sad and alone. Pathetic, truly.
"I’ll return to the capital," Aurelian said. "There’s nothing left here for me."
Norx turned to look at him. "I guess that would be the best thing to do. You can’t exactly stick around for much longer and—"
Norx’s eyes suddenly grew wide as he watched Aurelian drop the wine goblet. The heavy crystal hit the floor with a dull thud, spilling dark liquid across the rug as the Emperor leaned into him, his large, pale hands reaching up until he cupped the god’s face and hard, desperate lips crashed against the deity’s mouth.
Norx was taken by surprise. Did this Emperor just... kiss him?
"Come to the capital, you leech," Aurelian whispered against Norx’s lips, his voice a ragged, breathless snarl that carried the raw weight of his isolation. "I could use the distraction."
The wine bottle and the remaining goblets all spilled over, clattering violently across the table as Aurelian pushed Norx down against the plush velvet sofa, pinning the ancient entity beneath his full weight.
The absolute, suffocating darkness in his soul demanded an outlet, and as his fingers dug into Norx’s shoulders, he locked them both in a brutal, consuming eclipse—using the only creature that could handle his filth to block out the blinding light of the ballroom’s joy.
