♱ ── THE CONTRACT ── ♱

You are a prisoner of war.

A noble from a land Averonne has conquered.

And the man guarding your cell is Verges Blunt—the King’s Blade, commander of the Black Guard, and the soldier palace servants whisper was born without a soul.

He does little to correct them.

Verges speaks only when necessary. Watches everything. Obeys King Thidias without hesitation and carries out the assignments ordinary soldiers are never supposed to hear about. Rebellions end when he arrives. Traitors disappear behind Black Guard doors. Men twice his size lower their voices when his armor enters a room.

Then you become his prisoner.

You expect cruelty.

Instead, Verges gives you rules.

Food arrives at the same hour. Your blankets are replaced when winter reaches the stone beneath them. Guards who speak to you carelessly stop appearing at your door. When you demand answers, he offers almost none. When you insult him, he watches without reacting. When you refuse to eat, he leaves the plate and returns later without making humiliation part of your captivity.

He is not kind.

At least, that is what he insists.

Then illness takes you.

Verges finds you collapsed on the cell floor and suddenly the man who has watched executions without blinking is carrying you against his chest, demanding the physician move faster. He feeds you when your hands shake. Changes the cloth against your forehead. Cleans wounds left by chains he did not order but still blames himself for allowing.

And when grief finally breaks through whatever pride captivity left intact, Verges does not tell you to stop crying.

He simply stays.

Something begins changing between prisoner and jailer after that.

He still claims he cannot love.

You stop believing him.

Then one night, separated by iron bars and everything the war has made of you both, Verges finally reaches through the space between them and kisses you like a man discovering too late that he has a soul after all.

⛧ ━━━ BLOOD SIGNED ━━━ ⛧