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When they were little, Reo’s backyard was a kingdom.
Not just because it was huge—stretching endlessly with manicured gardens, winding paths, and ivory fountains—but because Reo declared it so. A garden hedge became a castle wall. A pond was a dragon’s lair. A white marble gazebo turned into the royal tower where he, the "Princess," resided.
Nagi was the knight. Always. That wasn’t up for debate.
“I command you to protect me,” Reo said, chin tilted up as he stood barefoot on the stone steps of the gazebo. A tiara sat slightly crooked in his violet hair. “Forever.”
Nagi blinked. He was holding a wooden stick Reo insisted was a sword. “Okay,” he mumbled.
But Reo marched down the steps, grabbed the hem of his own silken tunic—too nice to be playing in—and walked right up to Nagi until they were almost nose to nose.
“I’ll be with you forever too,” he whispered, like it was a secret just for Nagi to keep.
Nagi didn’t say anything. He just nodded.
_____________________
Fifteen years passed.
Reo still owned that backyard kingdom. Nagi still walked its halls—though now with the posture and weight of a proper knight-in-training. His talent hadn’t gone unnoticed. Tutors marveled. Nobles gossiped. They said the servant’s son was born with steel in his blood, gifted with instincts men twice his age lacked.
But Reo… Reo never changed.
Well, on the surface, he had. His voice deepened into smooth, practiced tones. His clothes became fine-tailored silks and navy brocades. He spoke with diplomacy and learned to charm the merchants and nobles who came to visit the estate.
But the moment the doors shut behind them, Reo turned. His smile would melt into something mischievous, something Nagi knew by heart.
“Carry me,” he said once, sprawling dramatically across the couch in the drawing room. His boots were already off.
Nagi, still in half-armor and just back from drills, sighed. But he walked over and lifted Reo anyway.
Reo grinned, arms looping lazily around Nagi’s neck. “So obedient,” he teased. “My perfect knight.”
“Dunno if knights are supposed to carry spoiled heirs around like this.”
“They do when the spoiled heir is me,” Reo replied smugly, nestling closer.
Nagi didn’t argue. He never really did—not when it came to Reo.
__________________________
Sometimes, when Reo finished his duties—when the books were balanced and the staff briefed—he’d find Nagi in the garden again, where the fountain still trickled, the gazebo still stood, and the old hedge was still half-alive.
He’d throw himself onto the bench beside Nagi, feet up on the stone, all the practiced grace gone from his body.
“You remember that game?” Reo would ask, looking up at the clouds.
“Yeah,” Nagi said softly.
Reo turned his head, watching him. “Still gonna protect me forever?”
Nagi met his eyes. “You still gonna be with me forever too?”
Reo didn’t answer right away. But he smiled—not the polite one, not the one he used in meetings. This one was soft, and just for Nagi.
“Always.”
_____________________
The offer came on parchment sealed in gold, bearing the royal crest.
The Capital had seen Nagi and declared him worthy of becoming an Imperial Knight. A title of great honor, a future carved in prestige. The sort of offer that changed lives.
And yet, all Nagi could think about was the promise in a garden long ago. The way Reo had whispered, “Forever,” like it was the simplest truth in the world.
He stood outside Reo’s study, parchment folded tightly in his hand. His knuckles were white.
When the doors opened, Reo was already smiling.
Not the bratty smile. Not the one that meant mischief. It was the other one—the practiced one. The polite one.
“I heard,” Reo said lightly, motioning for Nagi to come in. “Congratulations. It’s an honor.”
Nagi stepped inside, silent.
“You should go,” Reo continued, sitting behind the desk that had once been too tall for him to see over. “There’s so much more for you out there, Nagi. You don’t need to stay here, stuck in this estate.”
Stuck? Nagi looked at him. The words hit something deep, sharp. His chest ached.
He wanted Reo to pout. To cross his arms and demand, “You can’t leave! I forbid it!” The way he had when they were kids and Nagi wouldn’t play with him. He wanted Reo to stomp his foot, tug at his sleeve, make it hard to go.
But Reo just smiled.
Always kind. Always thinking of Nagi first.
Nagi didn’t say anything. He only bowed his head and left the room.
______________________
The morning of his departure arrived with quiet mist and the muffled sounds of hooves in the courtyard. Servants stood ready. The estate's gates had been opened.
But Reo wasn’t there.
Nagi sat on his horse, unmoving. He was supposed to ride to the capital before the sun rose fully.
Instead, he got down.
His feet carried him without thought, through the side halls, past the garden paths, until he reached the backyard.
And there he was.
Reo, curled on the stone bench beneath the gazebo, arms wrapped around his knees, his head down. He wasn’t making a sound, but his shoulders trembled slightly, and from this close, Nagi could hear the softest of sniffles.
He knew Nagi was there.
Nagi didn’t speak at first. He just walked forward, knelt down beside the bench, and rested one hand against the cool stone.
“I won’t go,” he said simply.
Reo didn’t look up right away. His voice cracked. “What…?”
Nagi looked at him, kneeling close now, eyes unwavering.
“…Tell me to stay,” he said softly.
Reo blinked. “What?”
“Like you used to,” Nagi murmured. “Be bratty. Spoiled. Demand I don’t go. Say I have to stay with you, because you’re the princess and I’m your knight.”
Reo stared at him. There was something in Nagi’s voice, steady and low, the same tone he’d used all those years ago when he vowed to protect Reo under a toy sword and summer sun.
It was serious.
And it broke something inside Reo.
Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Nagi’s arm, fingers tight, knuckles pale.
“Don’t go,” Reo whispered, barely getting it out. “Don’t you dare go.”
Nagi didn’t move. Just listened.
“You can’t leave,” Reo said again, louder now, his voice shaking. “You promised, remember? You said forever—forever, Nagi. You’re not allowed to leave. You said you’d protect me. You’re mine!”
Reo’s voice cracked completely, and his eyes brimmed again, but he didn’t let go. “You’re already mine.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Nagi gently moved Reo’s hand from his arm, but not to pull away. Instead, he held it in both of his own, cradling it like something fragile and precious. He leaned forward, bent down, and pressed a soft, steady kiss to the back of Reo’s hand.
When he looked up, his voice was quiet, but absolute.
“Yeah,” Nagi said. “I’m yours.”
Reo’s breath hitched, tears welling up fresh, but this time, it wasn’t from sadness.
Nagi brought their foreheads together, his eyes falling shut.
“I was always yours,” he whispered. “Even before I knew what forever meant.”
Reo closed his eyes too, tears slipping free, and clung to Nagi’s hand.