Cyrus Sol Selene

The fire crackled, casting shadows that danced against the trees, but it was the figure beside him Niko, she called herself. Beneath the hood, beneath the rough, travel-worn exterior, her doe-like black eyes gleamed in the firelight. Those eyes he would never forget. She could disguise her voice, and her mannerisms, but not those eyes.

He knew the moment he saw her. Nila.

Of course, she wouldn't recognize him as Sol. She wouldn't expect her husband-to-be to be roaming in the woods with a group of rebels, disguised as a knight.

She was beautiful in a way that haunted him, a beauty that had always intrigued him but never quite made sense until now. She was here, the runaway bride, the princess who had dared defy him, standing next to him without knowing she had walked straight into his hands.

It was almost too easy.

He had come here specifically to find her, to track her down before his soldiers could. Yet here she was, unwittingly by his side, trusting him.

Clever girl, he thought, glancing sideways at her as they walked deeper into the woods. But not clever enough.

Cyrus had assumed she would run. It was in her nature. That rebellious streak he had glimpsed in her the first time they met. She had a fire, a spark that burned just beneath the surface. And that spark, as dangerous as it was to his plans, also intrigued him. He had known this marriage wouldn't be simple, but when he'd first seen her.

Those damn eyes.

He had taken the guise of Sol to keep her off balance, to toy with her a little before he revealed himself. He had always been one for games, and this was a particularly delicious one. Watching her squirm, watching her try to play along while knowing she was completely unaware of the true nature of the danger she was in.

It was intoxicating.

As they reached the edge of the camp, he gestured toward a small tent, his voice easy and light. "Here we are," he said, pulling back the flap. "You'll be staying here tonight. Don't worry, Niko, it's just the two of us. It's been a long day. You could use some rest."

Nila's eyes widened slightly, her thoughts running wild, but she quickly composed herself, nodding as if it didn't bother her. But Cyrus could see the hesitation, the way she tugged her hood a little lower as if that would shield her from whatever tension hung in the air between them. She wasn't used to this kind of proximity with men. And he enjoyed watching her try to navigate it.

They stepped inside the tent, and Nila's eyes darted around. The space was small, a single mattress laid out in the centre, with a few pillows scattered across it. She turned to him, clearly trying to hide her discomfort. "Only one bed?"

Cyrus gave her a lazy grin. "It's all we've got. Don't worry, I won't bite. Also, we both are guys, aren't we?"

Nila's lips pressed into a thin line, her irritation showing through her cool demeanour. She grabbed one of the pillows and set it down between them on the mattress as if drawing a line in the sand. "Fine," she muttered, "just... stay on your side."

Cyrus chuckled softly, his amusement evident. "As you wish, Niko."

He lay down on his side of the bed, watching as she gingerly settled onto hers, facing away from him. The pillow barrier she had created was laughable, but he didn't say anything. He would let her have her little defence, for now. Soon enough, the truth would come out, and when it did, she wouldn't have any walls left to hide behind.

As the moonlight softly hit the tent Cyrus lay there quietly, listening to her breathing slow. Sleep overtook her quickly, and he found himself watching her, the rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her dark hair revealed from beneath her hood. She was more than just a pawn in his game, she was a mystery, one that he intended to unravel, piece by piece.

Sometime during the night, the pillow barrier disappeared. Cyrus wasn't sure when it happened, but he woke up to find her nestled against him, her head resting lightly on his chest, her soft breathing brushing against his skin. He could feel the steady warmth of her body, the way she fit so perfectly against him, as though this had been inevitable from the start.

He smirked to himself, resisting the urge to pull her closer. She would wake soon, and when she did, she would likely bolt from his arms, flustered and embarrassed. He could already picture the way her cheeks would flush that pretty shade of pink. But for now, he let her sleep.

As dawn broke, a soft light filtered through the tent, casting a gentle glow over Nila's face. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, she didn't move. She simply lay there, staring up at him, her expression soft and vulnerable. Her guard had dropped, if only for a second.

She was close, her face inches from his, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, his nose, and then his lips. Cyrus could see the confusion, the hesitation in her gaze as if she didn't quite understand how she had ended up in his arms. But she didn't pull away. Not yet.

"Good morning, Niko," he said softly, his voice low and husky from sleep.

Nila blinked, her eyes widening as the realization hit her. She scrambled out of his arms, nearly tumbling off the mattress in her haste to put distance between them.

"Y-you—" she stammered, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to—"

Cyrus just smiled, sitting up slowly and stretching, his movements deliberately unhurried. "Relax," he said, his voice smooth. "It's not like I minded."

Nila glared at him, clearly flustered, but she said nothing. She turned away, tugging her hood back over her head as if that could somehow shield her from the humiliation she felt. Cyrus watched her with quiet amusement, knowing that the real game was only just beginning.

She had no idea who she was dealing with. But soon, she would. And when that moment came, he would be there, ready to remind her exactly who was in control.