8. Bloddy Kiss

Years flew by.

As the seasons changed and the years slipped past, the village had seen many new faces come and go, but there was one constant—Elliot.

Now, nearing his 17th birthday, he had grown into a young man, his soft features now more defined, and his pale hair now a shining crown against his porcelain skin.

He still walked the village with the same grace, his eyes—pale as moonlight—always seeing the world in a way that others couldn’t understand.

Though blind, Elliot had become an expert in reading people and situations.

His mere presence could calm the most anxious soul, and his voice held the power to heal both physical and emotional wounds.

Yet, even with his undeniable beauty and kindness, it was his innocence and purity that truly made him stand out.

Liam, who had been by Elliot’s side through thick and thin, had grown too.

But the young man’s temper, sharp wit, and sometimes abrasive nature hadn't changed.

He was still often a source of frustration for the villagers, many of whom found his behavior challenging.

They compared him endlessly to Eric, who, despite being just as stubborn, had a much freer spirit and was more charming in his own way.

Eric had, over the years, matured into a headstrong yet charismatic boy, someone who still loved to run wild and push boundaries.

His carefree nature had made him quite likable, especially to the villagers.

And while Eric’s free-spirited energy was infectious, it often clashed with Liam’s gruff personality.

They were constantly at odds, despite the fact that they shared lessons together, often learning swordsmanship or studying history.

In the classroom, Liam excelled.

His sharp mind could absorb information quickly, and his brain could store endless information of history, strategy, and even politics.

But when it came to the physical, Liam often found himself falling short.

Eric, who had been trained in sword fighting from a young age, outmatched him in strength and technique.

It wasn’t that Liam wasn’t strong—he was—but Eric’s natural talent and relentless determination always seemed to best him.

Every time Liam lost, he would run straight to Elliot, who was always there to comfort him.

It was a routine they had fallen into, and no matter how many times Liam tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, Elliot always knew when something was wrong.

Elliot’s soothing words were a balm to Liam’s bruised ego, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the weight of the world could be lifted off his shoulders.

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It was on one such evening, while the village was filled with the usual bustle of everyday life, that the warriors of the kingdom returned from a mission.

Their job had been simple—eliminate a group of trespassers who had crossed into their territory from a rival kingdom.

The mission had been bloody, as such missions often were, but the warriors were trained for it.

They had carried out their duty with ruthless precision.

Elliot, though he could not see, could feel the shift in the air when the group of warriors returned.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, a scent that always caused an unease in his chest.

He could smell it even before they entered the village gates.

There was something about the way it clung to the warriors that told him this wasn’t just the blood of their enemies—it was their own, too.

And it only took a moment for him to realize that the familiar scent of Aslan was among them.

His heart clenched in worry.

Aslan, always the picture of strength and discipline, was known for his brutal efficiency on the battlefield.

But Elliot had grown close to him, and though Aslan’s stoic nature made it hard to read him, there was an undeniable bond between the two.

Aslan had become more than just a protector or a warrior to Elliot—he had become someone Elliot cared deeply for.

Elliot stood, a sense of urgency overtaking him as he walked towards the warriors.

His footsteps were soft, but the way the villagers parted for him showed the respect they had for the young healer.

It didn’t take long for him to spot Aslan, his tall, imposing figure standing among the others.

But there was something in his posture that made Elliot’s stomach drop.

Aslan’s usual confidence was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness.

His eyes, once sharp and full of life, now seemed distant, colder.

They lacked the warmth that Elliot had come to cherish. Still, Elliot couldn’t help himself.

He rushed to him, his heart pounding in his chest, and before anyone could stop him, he wrapped his arms around Aslan, holding him tightly.

Aslan was covered in the blood of the battle, but Elliot wasn’t concerned with that. He needed to know he was okay.

The sharp metallic scent of blood made Elliot’s stomach turn, and he momentarily pulled back to take in Aslan’s appearance more carefully.

His heart clenched again as he noticed that there wasn’t a scratch on him. The blood was not his own, but still, something about it made Elliot feel sick, as though it were too much.

“Please, Aslan,” Elliot whispered, his voice breaking, “please don’t get hurt.”

Aslan said nothing.

He stood still, his gaze fixed on Elliot as the boy’s fragile form clung to him.

His eyes were cold, emotionless, yet they held something deeper, something that Elliot didn’t quite understand. There was an unsettling stillness in them—no mercy, no warmth.

Just the weight of battle.

And then, before Elliot could react, Aslan lifted his head, gently cupping Elliot’s face with his large hand.

His lips brushed against Elliot’s tear-streaked cheeks, kissing away the tears that had started to flow.

But it didn’t end there.

Aslan leaned down further, and in one fluid motion, he pressed his lips to Elliot’s in a kiss that was far from innocent.

The world seemed to stop.

The air was thick with tension, and those around them gasped in surprise, their eyes wide in disbelief.

No one had expected this, least of all Elliot. But the kiss... the way Aslan’s lips felt against his own, the pressure, the intensity—it left Elliot breathless.

Before anything else could happen, before anyone could react further, Elliot’s body suddenly went limp in Aslan’s arms.

He collapsed, overwhelmed by the combination of emotional stress and the lack of oxygen, his fragile body unable to handle the intensity of the moment.

Aslan’s eyes widened in alarm, and he quickly caught Elliot in his arms, cradling him gently. The others rushed to them, but Aslan remained still, his gaze locked on Elliot’s unconscious form.

Liam had been nearby, and at the sight of the kiss and Elliot collapsing, he rushed forward, his anger rising.

He ran to Elliot, rying to push Aslan away, but the hidden prince simply stood there, holding Elliot as if nothing could harm him.

All Liam could see was the boy he had come to rely on lying unconscious in Aslan’s arms, and his anger, mixed with fear, overwhelmed him.

The villagers, too, stood frozen, uncertain of what to do. The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate.

The boy who, despite his blindness, had somehow managed to steal his heart in the most unexpected way.

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