No, I love you.

No, I love you.
Avaris's POV

For so long, I’d imagined this moment in quiet corners, in dreams that left me sweating, in the empty hours where longing twisted itself into something like pain. But nothing prepared me for the sight of him, actually him, standing there like a ghost dragged out of a war he never should’ve fought alone.

My breath just… stopped.

He looked ruined. Not in a way that made me pity him, but in a way that ripped through my chest. His lips were cracked, split in places like he’d been breathing through frost. His eyes which were usually sharp, dark, full of that dangerous confidence were now cloudy with exhaustion.

His skin was pale, drained, trembling from the cold that clung to him like it hadn’t forgiven him for leaving.

And yet… he still managed to look like the one thing my heart recognized without question.

“Dyvian…” The name barely made it out. My throat locked up. My body moved before my mind caught up, steps forward, my heart hammering like it was trying to break free.

He lifted his head slowly, as if gravity hated him. When his gaze found mine, something soft flickered. Something tired. Something relieved. It shot straight through me.

He opened his mouth, and the sound that came out didn’t sound like a demon prince or a creature carved from darkness, it sounded like a man who had been holding himself together by sheer force.

“Avaris…” His voice cracked, and I felt it in my spine. “I… I’m sorry.”

I swear my heart dropped.

Not because he should be apologizing—but because I could hear everything inside those two words. Regret. Relief. Pain he never wanted me to carry. And something else… something that made my pulse stumble.

“I’m… glad I found you,” he whispered, voice thinning at the edges. “I didn’t think I would. I didn’t know if…” His gaze wavered, unfocused for a moment. “Just… stay. Don’t disappear. Not yet.”

My heart stopped. Actually stopped. He looked like a man who had crawled through hell without expecting a reward, only hoping the door wouldn’t close before he reached me.

And then his knees buckled.

“Your High—!”

He didn’t even finish falling. My body moved before thought, my arms catching him just in time as his weight slumped into me. His head hit my shoulder, cold, too cold, and his breath ghosted across my neck like a fading ember.

“Dyvian!!”

My voice cracked, and I didn’t care, I didn't care that he had broken my heart, shattered my love for him into pieces, I didn't care that I had maybe hated this Prince when he broke me, not when his body went limp in my arms, not when panic shot up my throat like lightning, not when everything I had buried just to survive without him came crashing back in one brutal second.

I held him tighter, my fingers digging into his clothes as if I could anchor him here by sheer will. But his eyes had already closed.

I held him closer, heart racing like it was trying to keep both of us alive.

“Don’t you dare do this to me,” I breathed into Dyvian’s hair, my voice trembling as badly as his body. I looked around wildly, panic clawing up my throat. “Please help, please, someone help! He’s the Third Prince of the Empire, he's Prince Dyvian. Your Greatness!”

For a heartbeat, everything froze.

Boots scraped against the ground and voices rose in shock. Prince Theodore’s men surged forward, every one of them stiffening when they heard who exactly was collapsing in my arms.

But the one person who didn’t move was Theo himself.

He stood behind like the cold had gutted him, like all the color had drained out of him in one instant. His face, usually so composed, was tight, pale, unreadable in a way that felt dangerous.

I couldn’t focus on him.

Dyvian slipped again in my grasp, and the men rushed in, lifting him carefully, speaking fast and urgent words, “Get him inside! Warm the bedding! Fetch the physician, now!”

The world became a blur of motion, heat, and panic dragging him away from me.

I tried to follow, my legs moved on instinct alone, but something yanked me back so hard I gasped.

A desperate grip.

I whipped around, fear spiking through me, only to find Prince Theodore holding onto my wrist like he was drowning and I was the only thing keeping him above water.

“Prince Theo?” My voice cracked. “Your Greatness?”

His eyes… gods. I’d never seen eyes look like that.

Desperation ... like a man who had finally reached the breaking point. A tremor in his jaw like he was fighting something inside himself and losing.

And the worst part?

There was something heartbreakingly terrifying in the way he looked at me. Like I was something he had spent a long, painful time wanting and denying.

He looked one second away from falling apart.

His lips parted, trembling. His breathing shook. And I swear... I swear, I saw tears gathering, clinging to his lashes, refusing to fall.

“Avaris…” Theo whispered. “Please don’t go.”

I froze.

“What?” My voice came out small, confused. “Your… Your Greatness, what are you—?”

His grip tightened around my wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I felt the urgency radiating through his skin.

“Please,” he said again, his words escaping shakily from his mouth. “I beg you… don’t go. Avaris… don’t go to him.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I stared at him, confused and slowly terrified, a realization scratching at the edge of my mind but refusing to fully take shape. My mouth parted, but no words came.

Theo’s face crumpled quietly, like a man who had reached his limit. Before I could breathe, let alone think, he pulled me into him.

His arms locked around me with a force that shocked me still. His scent, warm, clean, that faint noble spice he always carried, hit my senses, and my brain blanked.

My body stiffened, frozen in place, because this shouldn’t be happening.

But Theo held me like he’d been waiting a long time to touch me, like the moment he let go something inside him would shatter.

His voice trembled against my ear. “I like you, Avaris.”

My breath caught.

“I like you so much—” his arms tightened, almost shaking, “—no… I love you.”

My heart stopped.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice breaking, “that if you walk to him now… if you choose him… I think I might die.”

My fingers curled helplessly in the fabric of his sleeves.

“So please,” Theo whispered, pleading, desperate, “don’t go to him.”