To You, Who Are Not My Enemy

By evening, the Prince of Desalon requested another private audience with Ahazan.

Clodine, unable to face him, had remained lying on the bed with her eyes closed.
When Ahazan told her he would step out briefly, he left and did not return for hours.

Time passed.

Midnight came and went.

At last, footsteps echoed, and Ahazan returned.

Standing at the doorway, he spoke briefly with Cal.

“They’ll need time to verify the facts on their side as well.”

“They should accept the truth quickly. If this tense atmosphere continues, it won’t bode well for what’s to come.”

“No matter what the truth is, they won’t side with us easily… not until they settle their emotions.”

Ending the conversation there, Ahazan closed the door and entered.

His gaze immediately found Clodine still lying with her back to him.

He approached without hesitation.

“Clodine.”

As he sat beside her, the bed dipped under his weight.

He had always been quick to see through her when she pretended to sleep.

There was no way he hadn’t noticed this time either.

As if to prove it, he didn’t bother waking her and continued speaking as though certain she could hear him.

“I heard from Cal.”

However Cal had explained things, Ahazan seemed to know that after overhearing the conversation in the tent, Clodine had been lying there ever since, drained of all energy.

“About what happened inside the tent… I want to explain everything properly. I’d like us to talk.”

His low voice, his gentle tone pressed softly against her heart.

If she were being honest, she wanted to turn around immediately, to face him, to talk about everything, no matter how trivial.

But…

“Clodine. Get up. Look at me.”

‘I don’t have the strength for that today, Ahazan.’

She swallowed the words instead of speaking them aloud.

All day, in that darkened room, she had thought about him.

And the more she thought about Ahazan the more she found herself unable to separate him from herself.

From childhood, he had always stood tall and unyielding and beside him, there had always been her.

Quiet.

Composed.

Never once complaining.

Always remaining at his side.

Now, looking back she felt foolish.

Pathetic.

Why had she loved him so silently for so long?

Why had she hidden feelings so vast, so overwhelming as if they were something he could easily dismiss?

Perhaps…

the fault had been hers from the very beginning.

If only she had been bold, had declared her love openly, had asked him, honestly, what he felt.

Did he like her?

Did he love her?

And if he did, how much?

If she had asked with confidence, he would have answered honestly.

Then she wouldn’t be here now tormenting herself over his true feelings.

If she had loved more loudly, given more, devoted herself more then in that moment earlier, she could have confronted him.

How could you call something like that love?

If that’s all it is, then stop.

Or love me properly.

Completely.

The way I loved you.

Value me more than your crown.

She could have said all of that.

But even that would have been meaningless.

In the end, what right did she have to feel this hurt?

When had she ever been something as certain as love to him?

Why did it feel like such a betrayal just because that might not be true?

She was angry.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Her thoughts were tangled beyond recognition.

She didn’t even know how to speak to him anymore.

“I want to talk while looking into your eyes. That way… you’ll know I’m sincere. Give me a chance. I won’t disappoint you.”

Even after being ignored for so long, he didn’t give up.

Yet he spoke gently, without rushing,

as though careful not to push her too far.

At this rate it felt like he could go on like this all night.

And she didn’t want to t*rture him like that.

Finally, still lying with her back to him, without even looking at him, she spoke,

“Right now… there’s nothing I want to hear from you.”

It wasn’t entirely true.

She just thought that if she said it, he might finally stop.

There was a brief silence.

Then.

“I have a lot I want to tell you.”

It’s too late, Ahazan.

Clodine closed her eyes tightly.

Even if he now said his earlier words were false she wouldn’t be able to believe him.

If he admitted they were true and apologized it would only make her feel more miserable.

If he revealed some hidden reason behind them she didn’t want to hear it.

Because she already knew she would understand him again.

Helplessly.

Inevitably.

And now that terrified her more than being hurt again.

She didn’t want to love him anymore.

She wanted to stop.

To tear this exhausting feeling out of herself completely.

Even if it meant losing a part of who she was.

‘If only I could see him as nothing more than an enemy… as a fallen queen forced into this marriage.’

Forcing her voice out, she answered,

“Ahazan… I’m not curious at all.”

About all the things you want to say.

“So please… stop.”

Stop shaking my heart like this

With that, she pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.

A silent message she wanted to sleep.

She didn’t want to talk anymore.

But Ahazan did not let the conversation end so easily.

Tonight, more than ever he was persistent.

Relentless.

He never once let go of anything that troubled her heart.

“Tomorrow, we’ll be inspecting the Porto highlands. It’s part of the official schedule. We’ll have to appear together.”

His voice, lowered with just a trace of roughness beneath it brushed softly against her ears in the stillness of the night.

“Within the empire, it’s considered one of the most beautiful places. Judging by the season, the yellow lilies you like should be in full bloom there.”

As he continued speaking, Ahazan gently smoothed out the blanket that had been crumpled over Clodine’s shoulder.

“I believe that once we’re there, your mood will ease… and you’ll give me a chance to apologize.”

Then, without hesitation, he rested his forehead softly against her shoulder.

“I’ll prepare my heart carefully until then.”

The sincerity I want to tell you…

The warmth of his body, the scent that filled the space between them kept pressing against Clodine’s desire to be left alone,

filling her with something she couldn’t even name.

***

“The knight from yesterday has completed treatment overnight and is now recovering.”

In front of the house, there was a small garden space meant for rest.

Clodine sat there, letting the cool morning air brush against her as she tried to untangle her thoughts.

Ahazan had not slept beside her in the first place, so she had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

Valoran had been sent away at her command, helping Merian retrieve some belongings from afar.

Taking advantage of the moment when no one else was around,

Cal Regerson quietly approached her and began speaking, unprompted.

From the sound of it, he was talking about the man Ahazan had struck down the day before.

Clodine simply rolled the stem of a long leaf between her fingers, saying nothing.

Seeing that she did not interrupt, Cal stepped closer and continued.

“It may have seemed as though His Majesty acted impulsively and cruelly toward a man he had never met… but in truth, that knight killed a great number of our soldiers during the Battle of Grichie Square.”

Cal’s expression twisted, as though trying to convey the horror of that moment through his face alone.

“Of course, such things happen in war. To survive for one’s country, you must kill your enemy no matter what.”

Clodine found herself thinking that Cal was far more talkative than she had ever imagined.

He spoke without pause, as if he didn’t even need to breathe.

“But that man… he was vile. He lacked even the most basic dignity as a knight. Not only did he mutilate the corpses of our fallen soldiers for amusement, but he also trampled and mocked them in front of nearby civilians. That’s why Rekri Alexia reacted so strongly yesterday, he hasn’t forgotten what happened. To be honest, even I was shocked when His Majesty decided not to kill him and instead include him among the prisoners. Ah—of course, that doesn’t mean Rekri was in the right.”

Yes.

If someone like that continued to act arrogantly and disrespectfully in front of the emperor then such punishment would not have been unjust.

The fact that he was still alive, despite such severe wounds,

meant he had been given immediate treatment.

Ahazan’s mercy toward him had already gone beyond measure.

And yet, even after hearing everything,

Clodine showed no reaction.

Cal paused briefly,

then spoke again, his voice lower and more serious.

“Your Majesty… may this unworthy servant add one more word?”

Clodine did not answer.

But her gaze, which had drifted down to the ground, slowly lifted and met Cal’s eyes.

Taking that as permission, Cal spoke again,

his tone hesitant yet firm.

What he said next was far more direct than anything before.

“…His Majesty would choose to live even a single day by Your Majesty’s side as an ordinary man… rather than spend a lifetime ruling the world as the absolute power of the continent.”

Behind Cal’s fervent defense,

Ahazan’s voice from the previous day echoed sharply as if to refute it.

‘Love? Do you think something like that can justify abandoning a greater cause?’

‘If that kind of love had truly been more valuable than a throne, your country would never have fallen so easily.’

“Your Majesty… please believe me.”

Cal’s earnest voice clashed violently with Ahazan’s cold words ringing in her memory.

“I have served him closer than anyone for a very long time. So at the very least… you may trust this.”

His eyes reddened, an emotion unfitting for him flickering through them.

“No… you must trust it.”

Like a scale thrown out of balance,

his words weightless yet overwhelming tilted everything inside her at once.

Her thoughts became muddled.