In the quiet of the night, a loud banging echoes through the air, startling both Arthur and Madin from their deep sleep.
Madin stirs first, rubbing his eyes groggily as he sits up. The pounding on the door grows louder, accompanied by muffled voices outside. Without thinking, Madin drags himself out of bed and stumbles toward the door.
He unlocks it, the heavy wooden door creaking open, and what he sees on the other side freezes him in place.
Standing there is the King , tall and imposing in his royal attire, flanked by knights and guards who wait outside the doorway. His piercing gaze lands on Madin, who feels the weight of the king's presence bearing down on him.
"Where is he?" the king demands, his tone sharp and commanding as he strides into the room.
Madin, still half-asleep and overwhelmed, remains silent, unable to find the words to respond. The king brushes past him, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The commotion rouses Arthur, who sits up abruptly, blinking at the sight of his father in the room.
"Father?!" Arthur exclaims, his voice laced with shock.
"Yes, Arthur," King replies, his voice steady and authoritative. "It's me. You're not dreaming. Did you really think it would come to this? Running away? A crown prince abandoning his duties?"
Arthur's heart races, his mind scrambling for an explanation. "How... how did you find me?"
The king raises an eyebrow, his expression almost amused. "How did I find you? Oh, my son, you know how we operate. Did you really think I wouldn't find you if I wanted to?"
He gestures toward Madin, who remains rooted to the spot, his face pale.
The king's voice grows colder. "Enough of this nonsense. We're leaving—now. Before the kingdom finds out about this disgrace. No one knows you've run away, and I intend to keep it that way."
Arthur swings his legs off the bed, standing tall despite his father's commanding presence. "No. I'm not going back."
The king's eyes narrow. "Arthur..."
"No!" Arthur interrupts, his voice firm. "I've told you before—I want to be with him. If that means I can't be king, then so be it. Let my brother take the throne. I don't care anymore."
"You mean to throw away everything you've ever wanted—everything you've been prepared for—all because of this boy?" The king's voice rises, his frustration evident. "Your brother cannot take your place. You are my eldest son, my chosen heir. I came here because I care about you. I believe in you. But this?"
Arthur stands his ground. "I've made my choice, Father. I can't live a lie."
The king exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine," he says finally. "We'll take him with us."
Arthur's eyes narrow with suspicion. "How can I be sure you won't do something to him?"
The King meets his son's gaze. "I know what he means to you, and for that reason, I will not harm him."
"I don't want him in the dungeons, either," Arthur insists.
The king sighs. "Very well. He will be treated with respect. You have my word."
Arthur hesitates, weighing his father's promise. "If you break your word, Father—"
"Enough!" the king snaps, his voice booming. "You don't trust me anymore? I said I won't harm him, and I won't."
Arthur nods reluctantly. "Fine."
They prepare to leave, Madin and Arthur riding together on a single horse. The journey is long and quiet, tension thick in the air. By the time they arrive at the palace, the sun is beginning to rise, casting a golden glow over the grand structure.
Inside, the elder council is already assembled, their faces stern as they wait in the grand hall. The king strides in, taking his place on the royal throne.
Arthur follows, his head held high, while Madin is led to sit among the elders. Whispers ripple through the room as the council members exchange disapproving glances.
"Please, everyone, be seated," the king announces, his voice calm but commanding.
As the room settles, the king begins. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. We face a situation unlike any other, and I ask for your patience as we address it. The world is changing, and we must be willing to adapt."
He pauses, scanning the room. "My son, Prince Arthur, has made a choice that some of you may find... unconventional. But I ask you to remember that he is still the man I have raised to be your future king. His abilities, his character, and his dedication to this kingdom have not changed."
The elders exchange uneasy glances. One of them, an older man with a stern expression, stands. "Your Majesty, are you saying you intend to allow this... relationship between prince Arthur and this boy?"
The king nods. "Yes. My son's happiness is paramount. If being with this young man brings him joy, then I see no reason to deny it. Love is love, and happiness leads to strength. Prince Arthur has proven his worth as a leader time and again. This does not change that."
Another elder rises, his voice tinged with disbelief. "But, Your Majesty, how can the prince produce an heir with this arrangement? The kingdom requires a lineage!"
The king's expression hardens. "I have considered that. Prince Arthur will marry a woman who can provide an heir, as is his duty. But his personal happiness is his own affair, and I will not strip him of it."
Arthur's jaw tightens. "Father, I—"
"You don't get to say anything to that!" the king cuts him off sharply. "This is not up for debate. My decision is final. You will fulfill your royal duties and remain with your companion. That is my compromise, and you will abide by it."
Arthur lowers his head. "Yes, Father."
As the debate continues, a commotion erupts outside. The elders turn toward the noise, their conversation interrupted.
"Freedom! Love is love! Let us love who we choose!"
The voices grow louder, and the king rises, leading the group outside. There, they find a crowd gathered in the courtyard—men holding hands with men, women embracing women.
The king raises his hands for silence, his voice carrying over the crowd. "Citizens, hear me. Your message is clear, and I have made my decision. From this day forward, love is free. No law shall stand in the way of your happiness. Love who you choose, and live as you wish!"
The crowd erupts into cheers, their joy palpable. Arthur and Madin stand together, watching the scene unfold. Arthur takes Madin's hand, squeezing it tightly.
In that moment, surrounded by acceptance and celebration, they know they've won. For the first time, Arthur waves to the crowd, a small smile on his face. It's a gesture of solidarity, a silent declaration: This is who we are, and we are not ashamed.
The crowd begins to disperse, the palace returning to calm. Arthur turns to Madin, pulling him into a tight embrace. "We did it," he whispers.
Madin smiles, leaning into him. "No, Arthur. You did it."
They stay there, holding each other as the dawn of a new era begins.