[BL] Alpha, You've Got the Wrong Mate!

Chapter 252 — You Visited Him?

The door creaked open, and Zayden stepped inside, closing it softly behind him. His eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on Ren, seated on the mattress, in a daze.

"Where is Eiran?" he asked, voice low. "Isn’t he with you?"

Ren turned toward the tall man, a faint smile tugging on his lips.

"He went to his room. He must be asleep by now."

"Alone?" Zayden’s brow furrowed, concern lacing his tone.

Ren chuckled softly.

"He has been sleeping alone for a while now. He says he is all grown up now. You are acting like it’s the first time you have heard of this," Ren chuckled.

Zayden’s lips curved into a small smile at the comment, but it faded almost immediately, replaced by a shadow of worry.

Ren noticed the sudden shift in his expression. He tilted his head, studying him.

"Are you... worried for His Imperial Highness?" He asked hesitantly, unsure if Zayden would even share his thoughts with him.

The alpha nodded, silence lingering between them for a brief moment. They simply locked their gaze, as if they were learning to memorize each other.

Ren, still seated on the edge of the bed, patted the space beside him.

Zayden joined him without a word, leaning his head lightly on Ren’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He inhaled deeply, wrapping an arm around the omega’s figure, feeling his warmth.

"I don’t know what to do..." Zayden admitted quietly, his voice laced with helplessness. "All of this is so complicated... I met with the Emperor just now."

Ren remained still for a moment, then asked,

"What did he say?"

Zayden chuckled as if Ren had made a joke, then buried his face into the curve of the other man’s neck.

"He doesn’t want to talk. At least not tonight. Then Mother came to me, saying I should give him some space. But... What about Brother? I haven’t found him in his room either."

"He will be fine," Ren tried to comfort him, though he wasn’t entirely sure those were the right words.

Zayden only nodded, his arm tightening around Ren.

The omega shifted swiftly, turning to face him and pulling him into an embrace.

"I didn’t know you worry this much," Ren murmured.

The alpha frowned slightly.

"Do I seem that careless to you?"

Ren nodded, a small smile softening his features.

"You do seem careless. But right now... it looks like you are carrying the worries of the whole world."

Zayden didn’t reply. He simply held the man closer, as if trying to find a moment of peace after tonight’s chaos.

Now that the banquet had ended, they were supposed to return to his homeland. That had been the plan.

However, he wasn’t sure how he could leave his brother behind in this mess.

***

It was still dark outside. The snow was gone—replaced by rain that streaked down the streets. The temperature had risen just enough for winter to appear like another season, turning white flakes into cold water.

Soren returned to his own palace, every step quiet as he entered, his mind still on Rihaan.

His jacket was drenched in the pouring outside. But he didn’t give it much thought. He simply made sure to dry it with a magic spell.

Then, his mind drifted back to the man lying on bed, bruised. He had gone to check on Rihaan and, as he had feared, his concern had been justified—the man had been beaten by his father.

He hadn’t wanted to shame Rihaan further, he had tended to his wounds with utmost care. He dressed them as gently as possible, moving with a quiet precision, making sure he didn’t wake the alpha.

Now, back within the safety of his own palace, Soren allowed himself a small, tense exhale.

The weight of the silence from the banquet hall still pressed on him, heavy and suffocating. But at least no one had been seriously harmed.

Their fathers were equally disappointed in them, yet Soren found a grim sense of relief—he hadn’t been beaten like Rihaan had.

With deliberate steps, he made his way to his bedroom, shrugging off his jacket as he walked. The servants had all returned to their quarters, leaving only the guards behind—some half-asleep, others already fully lost to slumber.

Opening the door to his room, Soren closed it behind him, the faint click sounding louder than expected in the quiet. He leaned against it for a moment, letting out a soft exhale.

His mind kept returning to Rihaan—bruised, groaning in pain, and yet... still fighting for his love. He could still picture the way Rihaan had stood against his father, ending up in the state Soren had witnessed.

Soren moved to his desk and sat, running a hand through his damp hair. The silence of the room contrasted sharply with the chaos of the banquet hall, yet the memory of Rihaan’s suffering pressed on him like a weight he could not shake.

He knew their world wouldn’t be easy after tonight. Fathers, politics, and expectations would not forgive their defiance. And yet, a strange thrill tingled in his chest—the thrill of doing something he had never done before, of going against his own principles.

Sitting on his bed, he exhaled deeply.

Now what?

The engagement that was supposed to solve half of the Empire’s looming problems had been shattered. And surely, the court would demand a replacement soon. Another political marriage. Another target chosen for him.

He rubbed his temples, closing his eyes for a moment. His world had never been peaceful—he had simply learned to survive it.

But tonight was different.

He had acted on instinct, not duty. On emotions—something he swore he would never do. He had chosen a man’s pain over the Empire’s needs.

A quiet knock snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Your Imperial Highness," came a faint voice. It was unmistakably the butler of the Emperor’s palace. "His Imperial Majesty requests your presence."

Soren’s heart tightened.

Of course. No consequences could wait forever.

He glanced toward the window. It was still dark outside, yet the first pale light of dawn had begun to creep into the room.

The night was over—much faster than he expected. Despite everything that happened, it didn’t feel like the chaos had lasted that long. Tonight had passed faster than it felt.

He rose from the bed, straightening his collar. As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, the palace felt colder than usual. The torches flickered in the hallways, his shadow stretching long across the polished floor.

Soren hadn’t taken a carriage. Instead, he walked down the long, never-ending hallways.

His father was not the type to explode like Rihaan’s. Zaphyr’s cruelty had always been quieter, sharper, the kind that cut without raising his voice. Perhaps he would have preferred it if his father was like Rihaan’s. That way, the kindness wouldn’t burden him.

Soren stopped in front of the Emperor’s study—its tall doors slightly open, light spilling through the crack. He took one deep breath before stepping inside.

Zaphyr sat behind his desk, expression unreadable.

"You visited him?" the Emperor asked before Soren could speak.

Soren didn’t flinch, his gaze glued to the floor as if he were a criminal who awaited sentencing.

"Yes."

"Even after everything? Even when he humiliated you, by refusing to process the ceremony?"

"Yes," he repeated softly.

Zaphyr studied him for a long moment, before shaking his head in disappointment.

"I don’t understand you. If Crown Prince Rihaan didn’t want this, he should have said so to his father."

Soren swallowed. "I know. I am certain he did, but his father didn’t pay any attention to his words..."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Zaphyr frowned.

"I told you earlier—I thought he would change his mind. Most political marriage partners are against it at first but then they just... accept their fate."

Zaphyr sighed.

"But my son, I don’t want you to compromise like this."

Soren’s jaw tightened, his fingers fidgeting as his gaze flickered upward. He had made a mistake—his first mistake. And the disappointment in his father’s eyes was impossible to miss.

"I apologize."

The Emperor shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"I don’t want an apology from you. I just want you to understand. I thought you liked him. You’ve known him for years, and he was the first person you thought of when I told you to get married," he paused, leaning his back against his seat.

"As you said, I did marry someone just for politics, and although that person and I did not suffer, we were not happy. I don’t want the same for you."

"I didn’t mean to be rude..." Soren’s gaze flickered down.

His father was indeed one of a kind. He never raised a hand at him—never needed to. His words were soft, his patience endless. That was what made it worse.

It wasn’t the lack of violence that spared him.

It was the quiet kindness—so gentle it settled like a weight on one’s chest, pressing down until the guilt became unbearable.

"Just... Go get some rest. We have a meeting at ten in the morning."

Soren nodded and bowed, exiting the room.

Would his life continue as if none of this had happened?