The desert wind howled like a wounded beast as I, Prince Cassian, stepped down from my sand-colored warhorse, my boots sinking into the powdery dust of the Oasis of Rahim. I squinted in the sunlight, looking around. It was beautiful, yes—but I hated it on sight.
A prison wrapped in sunlight.
I adjusted my crimson cloak, the gold embroidery of Solaria glinting under the high sun. Beside me, three guards waited, silent and tense. I dismissed them with a curt nod. No weapons were allowed within the Oasis. That, apparently, was part of the sacred terms.
I would rather have walked into a pit of vipers naked.
Somewhere among the date trees and white-stone ruins, Prince Aziel of Noctis awaited me.
My lips curled. I imagined the southerner already sipping tea in the shade, draped in silk, writing poetry about moonlight and sorrow. That was what the Noctians did, wasn't it? While Solarian soldiers bled on the border.
I stepped through the arched entrance, where a monk in white robes bowed.
"Your Highness. Welcome. Prince Aziel has already arrived. You will be led to the shared quarters."
"Shared," I repeated with acid on his tongue.
"It is tradition. All rituals of peace must begin in closeness." The monk's tone was neutral, but I could feel the judgment in it. "You may not harm him. You may not leave until the cycle of moons ends. The Oasis is sacred ground."
"And if I do harm him?" I asked coolly.
The monk only smiled. "Then the desert will decide your fate."
The tent was larger than I expected—thick, white canvas with golden ties and colored lanterns casting soft shadows. A single rug covered the sand floor. Two low beds sat at opposite ends, barely more than woven mats. Between them, a round table with a single bowl of dates and a brass pitcher of water.
And seated beside that table, back straight and hands folded, was Aziel.
He was draped in dark blue silks, his long hair braided in the Noctian style, silver rings on his slender fingers. He did not rise.
He didn't need to.
His eyes met mine—and in them was the calm cold of a winter moon.
"Solaria sent a flame," Aziel said, voice as smooth as polished stone. "I hope it doesn't burn down the tent."
I crossed the space in three long strides, dropping his satchel to the floor. "I'm not here to make conversation, Moon Prince."
"Good," Aziel said, still seated. "You'd be dreadful at it."
Our silence swelled like heat between us. The air in the tent grew tight. I could feel the weight of the moment, like a sword held just above my throat.
"You think I wanted this?" I muttered. "My father thinks you and your mystic court can be tamed with kindness."
"And yours thinks my people can be bought with guilt," Aziel said, finally rising. He was shorter than me as expected. "We're both disappointments."
We stood there, two shadows facing one another, the silence now loud with unspoken things: death, brothers lost in border wars, nights lit with fire and screams.
"I won't pretend," I said. "I hate you."
"I know," Aziel replied softly. "I can feel it."
I blinked. "What?"
"The bond has already begun. You'll feel it soon. The pull. The ache. The rituals of Rahim are old, older than our fathers' hate. We are tied now, Cassian of Solaria."
"Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you know me."
"I don't," Aziel said, stepping back. "And I don't want to. But it doesn't matter. The bond doesn't care."
That night, the desert grew cold as bone. I lay on my mat, arms crossed beneath my head, staring at the roof of the tent. Aziel had blown out the lantern and now sat at the entrance, silent, reading some scroll in the dark by moonlight.
I shifted, restless.
My body ached—not from fatigue, but something stranger. Like a knot being tied inside my chest.
Aziel didn't turn, but his voice broke the quiet. "It's the bond. You feel it."
"What is it?" I asked reluctantly.
"The Oasis draws our emotions together. Makes them... heavier. It's how peace was once made—by forcing enemies to feel."
"I don't want my emotions to be heavier."
Aziel's laugh was quiet, bitter. "Neither do I. But it's already begun. I felt your anger when you saw me. It flared under my ribs. And now... you're afraid."
I sat up. "I am not."
"You're afraid that if this works, everything you've believed about me, about Noctis, will collapse."
I stood, crossing the tent in two strides, standing infront of Aziel. "You don't know anything about me."
Aziel looked up at me. Even in the dimness, his gaze was steady.
"I will, soon." He said.
Our faces were close now. The tension was electric—anger, yes, but something else under it. Something raw and magnetic. My breath caught in my throat. I hated how beautiful Aziel looked in the moonlight.
Aziel didn't move, didn't flinch.
But he whispered, almost sadly: "The bond only tightens when you try to fight it."
I stepped back, heart pounding. "Sleep well, Moon Prince. And stay on your side."
Aziel turned back to the scroll. "Try not to dream of me, Fire Prince. It will only hurt more when you wake."
We slept in our own beds the night.