The tension was thick as Oliver led Draco and his men back to the manor. He didn't fault his men for their trepidation. He had only shown such a display of brutality a few times before, and none of his men from Wynter had witnessed it.

Oliver sighed and stopped his horse, and the others slowed their steps, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Boss?" Ian asked cautiously.

"Were you able to understand the basic situation from my conversation with the Ravager?" Oliver asked with a frown.

They were silent and looked hesitantly at Draco, holding the sleeping Cora in his arms.

"With all due respect, we should have this conversation elsewhere," one of the officers suggested as he glanced toward Draco.

"Draco can be trusted," Oliver said, surprising them. To their knowledge, Oliver and Draco had just met.

The officer was persistent and continued his protests. "You mentioned the Bierzen prince, so these matters should remain within Bierze."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "We're of Wynter, not Bierze. You will do well to remember that."

The men flinched from his coarse tone.

"I was understating when I said that the Belelots are greedy. They're a gluttonous tumor threatening to consume the world we know." Oliver rubbed his eyes. "They're hands are bloodier than mine."

Oliver's words were treasonous, and Ian had wanted to stop him. "Boss, he is still your Crown Prince—"

His words were stopped by James hitting his arm. "Don't bother, Commander. That man doesn't deserve the courtesy of being addressed as our Prince."

Mark, Sal, and Sarah mirrored James' dark look.  Sarah knew of the turbulent relationship between Oliver and Piers, while the others were present when Oliver confessed about the abuse he had endured.

Mark's fists were clenched so tight his arms shook. "Lord Draco, we normally don't toss around treasonous words, but Piers—"

Draco interrupted. "I know. I'm acutely aware of Piers' depravity." His eyes lingered on Oliver. "Considering I was present when he stabbed Oliver."

The air shifted once again and had turned hostile. Oliver caught himself rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Ah, they weren't aware of that incident."

Oliver gave a helpless laugh which was tapered off with a sigh. He closed his eyes and steadied his emotions. He knew that he still felt a violent anger stirring inside of him.

"I despise the Belelots... but that is nothing compared to the loathing I harbor for the man they call the Ravager King." Oliver's voice cracked from the surmounting anger. "He tends to make me lose my composure."

Piers may have been a terrible fiance and king, but the one who pulled all the strings and thrust the world into painful chaos was the Ravager King—the associate.

"How do you know him?" Sarah asked. "Have you met before?"

Oliver peered at the mountain range behind them, knowing that the bastard who visited him in his cell was there.

"Yeah," he finally answered. They may not have met in this lifetime, but they have met.

He turned his horse around, ready to leave the conversation. But Draco was the one who stopped him when he asked, "What did he want from you?"

Oliver's gaze remained on him. "He wanted everything."

The Ravager King had taken his family, Draco's home, and threatened to destroy his soldiers. The only thing he had left to give to the Ravager King was his life, and the King had also taken that.

Oliver didn't continue speaking but nudged his horse forward.

The snow was thick, but the large Glacier Tundra stallions were not impeded by it. Oliver and Draco rode in the forefront of Oliver's soldiers.

Oliver had carefully gauged Draco, who was riding next to him. He had wondered if his fluctuating emotions and enraged moments had driven him away.

Draco glanced over and caught Oliver staring at him. "You're looking at me like you want to apologize." He said with a chuckle.

Oliver pursed his lips. "I had exposed something... unsavory."

"That would be the last word I would use," Draco smirked. "Besides, you have never seen a Lyrell lose themselves to anger. It can be quite monstrous."

There was a harrowing truth laced in his words, and Oliver felt it in his bones. He knew he never wanted to see this man, with blood-red eyes and enticing fangs, suddenly become enraged... but being monstrous was something that captivated his train of thought.

His sullen mood had suddenly shifted to intrigue, wondering what other beastly characteristics Draco Lyrell had.

Oliver rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his mind from the thoughts. "Dastardly old ghost," he chastised himself.

When he wasn't paying attention, Draco reached up and took his silver hair in his hands. He pressed his lips along the long strands.

Oliver jumped when he felt the light pull. When he turned, his face was somewhat flushed. Draco grinned. "A coin for your thoughts?"

Oliver felt his breath get caught in his throat. He could never tell Draco what he was thinking. "No. Not enough coins in the world for that."

He urged Boreas to move faster, creating more distance between the two.

Perhaps the shameless one was him, not Draco.

They made it back to the manor in the next day's early morning. There were many cheers when their group entered the compound. It didn't matter if they were servants or soldiers; they waved and called out to Oliver.

Draco was surprised to see this level of enthusiasm. He knew how hated Oliver was in the capital, but in Wynter, he was a beloved figure.

Oliver called over Timothy as he dismounted and helped Cora down. Timothy bowed low. "Lord Oliver."

Timothy was a stubborn servant and refused to exclude using titles. After months of arguing with the older man, Oliver had given up on trying to change his habits. "Draco and Cora will be our guests for the winter."

Timothy was quick to realize that both guests were injured and that they did not have many belongings. He nodded. "We will set up rooms and necessities to make their stay comfortable."

Cora tugged on Oliver's cloak. "Can our rooms be close to yours?" Her bright red eyes pulled at his heart.

He patted her on the head. "Of course. No one else resides on my floor, so you two will be welcome company."

Cora jumped with excitement, and Timothy couldn't help but be warmed by the interaction.

At first, Timothy didn't trust Oliver, but he had rapidly proven himself to the people of Wynter. He showed strong leadership, taught others with patience, and revealed a tenacity to care for his family and land.

Oliver never acted like a 20-year-old man. Instead, his nature had been carved out of discipline and war. His mind followed the path of a great General at the forefront of countless battles. When Oliver concentrated on something perplexing, his aura would shift and become sharp and commanding. Even Timothy, who has been fighting for a generation, felt compelled to bow in front of him.

Despite his strong traits, Timothy always sensed a heavy loneliness from Oliver, as if the world had abandoned him.

"I'll arrange it right away," Timothy said. "There are several messages for you in the study, Lord Oliver."

Oliver nodded and looked back toward Draco. "I'll attend to some business, but Sarah can show you to your rooms to freshen up. I'll meet you when I'm done."

Draco patted his shoulder gratefully. "Thank you for this."

Oliver went to the study and groaned when he saw the pile of documents. Timothy had taken care of most of the work, but there were still items left for his review. He quickly washed in the adjoining bathroom and dressed. He ties his hair behind him without drying it, letting it soak his shirt.

He sat at the desk with a quill in hand and read through each document seriously, drafting a response if necessary.

He didn't know how long he was sitting in the study, but he was pulled out from his work when there was a knock on the door. Cold tea and snacks were sitting on his desk, but he never moved to consume them, and now he felt his hunger gnaw at him.

"Come in." He assumed it was Timothy on the other side of the door, so he didn't bother masking the tone he was accustomed to using as a General.

He didn't look up from his papers when the door opened. He heard footsteps shuffle towards him, and when they stopped in front of him, he finally looked up from his papers. He found a pair of innocent red eyes looking up at him.

He set the papers down and smiled. "Cora, did you come to visit?"

She nodded with a pout. "You said you were going to meet up with us."

"Ah, I lost track of time." He stood up and stretched his arms a little. "Is Draco with you?"

She shook her head. "No. He said that you are busy and not to bother you. He went to the training grounds."

Oliver chuckled. "I see. Shall we go greet him?"

She shook her head again and called out behind her. "Can you bring it now?"

Sarah walked in quickly with a broad smile. She held a new tray with sandwiches, pastries, and tea. She placed it on the table and walked out with a quick bow.

Cora pulled Oliver's sleeve and led him to the table. "Sarah and Timothy said you won't eat if I don't force you to."

Oliver laughed. "I see." He picked her up, helped her into the oversized chair, and poured her a cup of tea with a bit of sugar. "Then I guess I am coerced."

Oliver showed patience with the young girl and listened to her ramblings. At the same time, he enjoyed his small meal with the little girl. She reminded him of Avery, and he felt a slight ache for leaving him back in the capital.

Cora was enthusiastic and talked about the many friends she has in Rucrea. However, Oliver paused when she said, "It was never too fair for my brother."

Cora paled and covered her mouth when she realized the slip of her tongue.

Brother.

Oliver felt the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. It made perfect sense.

The Rucrean King's reclusive tendencies became more extreme when Draco joined the war. And when the Ravagers invaded, the King's body was never found... because he was in the middle of a battle with Oliver.

The last of the dragon blood. The lonely Dragon King.

A desire to protect Draco stormed inside of him like a blizzard. No one would harm his king again.

However, he stopped his tumultuous thoughts when he saw the tears welling in Cora's eyes. She was terrified of her mistake.  She had kept this secret for so long while being held captive by the Ravagers, but one meal with Oliver had made her lose her self-awareness.

Oliver smiled lightly and patted the top of her head. "Why do you say that it wasn't too fair?"

She hummed for a moment, realizing that Oliver would not say anything about her slip-up. "The day I was born, someone attacked our family. Mom was injured, and dad didn't make it. Draco suddenly had to take on dad's responsibilities and help raise me."

He felt his blood run cold. "You were attacked?"

She nodded. "Draco doesn't talk about it. He only said that he took care of it."

Oliver comforted her with a smile. "I'm sure he did. But why do you think it's unfair to him?"

"People say he was a kid when this happened, but suddenly, he had to be an adult." She said softly.

Oliver nodded. "Do you think he hates what he's doing now and regrets the life he's living?"

She bit her lip and nodded sadly.

He lightly flicked her forehead, drawing a pout from her. "When a child respects their father, they will view his legacy and mantle as an honor. It's our way of keeping our parents' memory alive. And caring for your younger siblings is never a burden. No... this is a blessing that should always be grasped. I would do anything to see my youngest brother grow into a respectable adult, and I am sure Draco feels the same about you. Do you think anyone could hate such things?"

"You really think so?"

He chuckled. "I'm a son and a big brother too.  I know that it's the truth."

She hugged his neck. "Good. I don't want him to be sad."

She yawned, and her eyes grew heavy. He picked her up. "How about a nap?"

But Cora didn't answer because she was already asleep in his arms. He quietly walked out of the study but paused when he saw Draco leaning against the wall in the hallway.

He gave Draco a subtle nod, and they walked together to the room picked out for Cora. Draco helped tuck her in, and they both left the room. Oliver invited him back to his room for tea.

Oliver's mind was flooded with questions, having learned about two kings within this short period—his greatest enemy and his beloved. However, he didn't bring up his questions to Draco. Both had their secrets at this time, so he respected Draco's

While Oliver was lost in his thoughts, Draco entered the room and looked around.  A slight frown pulled at his lips when he realized that the worn desk was piled with paperwork, but the bed had gone untouched.  He remembered how he found Oliver sleeping on the ground in the cabin and feared that this was a sleeping habit.

His eyes continued to roam the room, and his eyes widened with surprise when he saw a vase holding three arrows. They were the Rucrean arrows Oliver had taken when he fought the Ravagers in the village before entering Wynter.

"You kept my arrows," Draco said as he picked one up from the vase.

"Your arrows?"

Draco chuckled. "Your soldiers were going to fail in that Ravager attack. They were miserable, and I was about to interfere, but then you and your men rushed in. I've never seen someone control a squadron so quickly, but you did it seamlessly. It was like you have been leading soldiers for years."

Oliver thought back on the attack. "So you were the hunter that helped me."

"I'm sure you would have survived easily, but I figured you didn't mind a helping hand." Draco put the arrow back in the vase and sat on a chair in the sitting area.

"I didn't realize it was you."

"Who would have thought we would meet up again so soon after." He laughed lightly. "It's like we're tied by fate."

Oliver controlled his erratic heart. Something about their fates being tied together made him content. "I'm glad if that is the case." His voice was soft and gentle.

Draco smiled as he watched the bashful expression deepen on Oliver's face. "By the way, thank you."

Oliver poured him a cup of tea and raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"My sister..." He said with a sigh. He usually felt unease when an outsider knew of his relationship with Cora. It would expose him and put Cora in danger as it did with the Ravagers. But he didn't feel that way with Oliver; instead, he felt better admitting it to him.

Oliver smiled warmly. "You care for her."

Draco nodded. "More than anything. But she never believes me when I tell her I'm happy with my decisions. So thank you for talking to her."

Oliver held the cup tightly as he thought of Draco's past. "I'm sorry that you and your family had to experience such tragedies."

Draco took a sip of the tea, his eyes lost in his memory for a moment. "It was assassins. They were hired by some court elders who disagreed with my father's politics. He fought off a group of them with his spear, but in the end, he still fell."

He placed his cup down and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I was protecting my mother at the time of the attack. When I made sure she and Cora were safe, I ran to help my father... but I was too late."

His red eyes flashed with emotion. "After that day, I stepped into my father's shoes and took over his role...but the injury my mother sustained was serious, and she now experiences periods where she is confined to her bed, so I had to help raise Cora."

Oliver was silent for a moment. "How old were you?"

"Sixteen."

Oliver sighed deeply. He knew the answer but still hoped he was wrong. Perhaps this was why they had such a strong connection. They were both like broken pottery, but they became whole when they put their broken pieces together.

He stood up and walked to his bookshelf. He moved a couple of books to the side and pulled out a large jug. He dumped the tea and filled the cups with honeyed alcohol.

Draco looked at the contents of the cup and raised an eyebrow. He recognized this alcohol as a honey mead that was brewed in Rucrea. Those with dragon blood are not affected by alcohol, but this mead was strong and could intoxicate them if they had enough. He smiled as he picked the cup up and emptied it with a gulp.

"I'm sorry that you went through that," Oliver said quietly as he refilled their cups.

"I picked up my father's mantle. Didn't you just so that this was an honor?"

"I did, but that doesn't mean the honor isn't heavy." Oliver's voice was low as he said this.

He recalled when he had to step into Antony's shoes. He was naive and struggling. The weight of responsibility nearly brought him to his knees. He had to find a way to endure, and after years of trying, he finally found a way to stay afloat.

Draco raised his cup. "Then I'll toast to heavy honors."

Oliver raised his glass with Draco and drank. One cup turned into many.

Draco sighed as he sipped another cup. The room had already started to permeate the smell of alcohol.

"I killed them all." Draco suddenly said.

"Who?"

"The assassins and those who hired them. It took me years, but I made sure they suffered." He smiled disdainfully. "I told you... when we're angry, we become monstrous."

There was that tantalizing word again.

Oliver nodded. "Good."

"That doesn't scare you?"

Oliver gave a lazy laugh, his breath heavy with mead. His glazed eyes crinkled at the corners. "Why should that scare me? This old ghost knows a thing or two about death and vengeance."

"Ghost... you've called yourself that before. Why?"

Oliver paused. "Ah... I didn't realize I said that."

Draco waited patiently to see if Oliver would answer. He didn't expect anything but was pleasantly surprised when Oliver spoke again.

"Ghost was a name given to me. It was supposed to be an insult, taunting me for being a person who had lived closer to death than life." He chuckled disdainfully and pressed his hand against his chest. "Even my own heart has stopped beating and the only reason why I am here today is because of another's heart beats in my chest, so Ghost is quite fitting. I should hate this name... but for some reason, I hold on to it."

This time Draco filled the cups with alcohol. "Do you regret the life you live now?"

Oliver's lips curled as Draco asked this question. He regretted so many things. But now, he can change things; right his wrongs. He was graced with this chance even if he lived as a ghost.

His smile broke into a light laugh. "At this moment, I don't regret anything. Instead, I look forward to how I will haunt the future."

Their conversations faded in and out until late in the night, and one jug of alcohol turned to a few. Inwardly, Oliver expressed his deepest thanks to the ancient dragon who granted his wish.