Julian lifted his head to find the Duke looking at him with an almost painful longing in his eyes.

"If it’s uncomfortable for you, I will send them away at dawn. They have been well received, so they should make their way back."

Julian shook his head. He could feel Alaric’s firm care and determination to ease whatever worries he had. But he was fine.

"More importantly," Julian said, "Are you fine?"

The Duke blinked. Why was he asking him that?

"Lucien, I know you’re putting up more than I am, so tell me. Are you alright?"

"It’s annoying," Alaric stated and then finally stopped walking. They were already in front of Lucius’ room, and it looked like the boy had started to snooze from the comfortable rocking movement of his father. "Everything, my cousin, the Priest, it is all annoying."

"I understand," Julian said as he opened the door. "But please bear with it. It’ll only be for a few more days at most. They can’t possibly stay for a month. And once they are gone, we shall have our peace again."

They walked in, and Alaric placed his son gently on the bed, taking his shoes off but leaving his sock on as he draped the heavy blanket over him.

"I will call the maids so they can put him in his nightwear," Julian said, but just as he was about to turn, Alaric caught his arm and pulled him into an embrace.

And not just any embrace, one that came with locked lips and a firm grip around his waist.

Alaric kissed him, the taste of beef sauce, venison, and wine filling their taste buds.

It went from a simple kiss to one filled with so much raw intent and hunger, their tongues swirling around the other, fighting for dominance, and saliva dripping from their corners.

"Lu... Lucien," Julian called over their smacking lips, feeling the Duke’s hand move down to grab his butt, and he looked at sleeping Lucius. "We can’t... not here."

But Alaric was a little bit drowned in his desire and didn’t listen. Not until Julian gripped a handful of his golden hair and pulled it back, panting.

"Lucius is sleeping right here, Lucien. We can’t do this here."

Alaric looked at him, the way his lips were patted, the way his eyes were tearing up, and the skin on his neck.

He wanted to taste him.

"Alright," Alaric said. "Let’s go to our room," but he leaned in and kissed Julian’s cheek one more time before swooping Julian off his feet and into his arms like a bride.

"You don’t have to..." he quickly covered his mouth as he looked over Lucius who had stirred.

He had been too loud.

Then, he looked at a smirking Alaric.

There were so many guests. Did he want them to see them like this by accident?

Ah, it seemed like that was indeed his plan. Alaric wanted to show them all that the one they wanted to claim was already his.

And nothing was going to change that.

"You’re just too much," Julian muttered, his face reddening as he buried it in Alaric’s chest.

"Yes, and I will become a lot more... Just for you."

...

The delegation’s presence acted like a slow-moving frost, seeping into every crack of the manor.

No matter which corridor Julian turned down, he would encounter a pair of white-robed priests who would immediately halt, pressing their palms together and bowing their heads in a silent, reverent arch.

It made his skin crawl. To them, he wasn’t a man who enjoyed old books and quiet mornings; he was a relic they were waiting to reclaim.

The most annoying change, however, was the sound they brought with them.

Every morning and late afternoon, they did sermons, sang a choir chant that drifted up from the courtyard. Even through the heavy stone walls, Julian could hear the low, haunting melodies of the Holy Empire’s liturgy.

"How can they stand it?" Julian asked one morning, peering through the frost-rimed glass of the study.

Below, Elian stood at the center of a circle of priests, all of them barefoot on the frozen cobbles, their breath blooming in thick white clouds.

"It is an act of discipline," Elian explained later that day, his voice smooth and untroubled by the cold. "Once one learns to disregard the burden of the flesh, their spirit is forever disciplined. The cold is merely a reminder that the body is a temporary vessel."

Julian had only looked at him with a flat, scholarly skepticism. To him, the body was the only vessel that mattered, and freezing it seemed less like discipline and more like a lack of common sense.

One more reason why he would definitely not join the clergy of priests.

Who knows if they’ll ask him to jump into fire to prove his fate and discipline his vessel of a body?

A few days later, the sun made a rare, pale appearance.

Julian decided to take Lucius for a walk through the glass-walled conservatory and into the outer gardens.

He needed to get the boy away from the oppressive atmosphere of the manor, where the servants were still walking on eggshells under Alaric’s watchful eye, and the priests were bowing as if he were a god.

Julian had told Alaric not to mind it and wait until a few days before they left, but it was all starting to bloom into something utterly burdensome.

Lucius was quiet, his small hand tucked firmly into Julian’s. He had been drawing strange, geometric crosses in his dirt-stained notebook lately—symbols that looked far too much like the Holy Empire’s iconography.

It made Julian wonder if he was interested in the Holy Empire.

Or it... Perhaps one of these priests had approached the boy in their quest to look for new converts.

The thought made Julian’s blood run cold.

What if it had truly happened and Lucius was interested in it?

Lucius’s eyes were bright as they watched the falling snow. His thoughts at the time were probably how the snow looked like powdered sugar.

Then, they reached the edge of the courtyard.

But the path was blocked.

The afternoon sermon was in full swing. A small altar of white marble had been moved into the center of the yard, and a dozen Purifiers stood in a semi-circle, their voices rising in a sharp, clear harmony.

And, more disturbingly, was the fact that there were some of the palace servants joining in on the sermon.

Julian’s eyes darkened. So, they had indeed been going around preaching to the Northern people in order to convert them. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Why did this feel so annoying?

Elian stood at the head, his silver-white hair almost blinding in the sunlight.

Julian tried to turn back before they were spotted, but Elian’s pale eyes snapped open. The chant didn’t stop, but the Purifier stepped forward, his robes sweeping over the snow.

"Saint, Young Lord," Elian said, his voice carrying a warmth that felt artificially engineered. He wasn’t looking at Julian; he was looking at Lucius. "Would you like to hear the Song of the First Light? It is said that those who listen with a pure heart can feel the sun even in the deepest winter."

Lucius looked up at Julian, his face suddenly full of a child’s unfiltered curiosity.

Julian didn’t like this.