Oliver could feel the solemn atmosphere the moment he mentioned his uncle. Most had turned to avoid his eyes, and his father's hands were clenched so tightly that they had turned white. He turned his gaze towards Draco, knowing he would receive the truth from him.

"He's alive, right?" Oliver asked hesitantly.

Draco nodded stiffly, but it did not soothe his concern.

"You just woke up. How about you go back and rest? We can discuss this later." Sophia interjected, hoping to free Draco from the informing Oliver of the truth.

"I have rested plenty." He answered, his eyes never leaving Draco.

"Oli..." Quincey called out quietly from behind him. "Think of your body."

Oliver finally removed his gaze from Draco and turned sternly to Quincey. "Am I that fragile to you?"

Quincey felt his spine stiffen, but he smirked. "You know I never shied away from my opinions, General. I'm just suggesting you take a breather before you tackle another problem."

Oliver raised an eyebrow in response.

Quincey sighed and threw his hands up in the air helplessly. "But I know you're a stubborn old ghost who won't listen to me. Just don't overdo it, General."

Oliver nodded. "We have much to discuss after I deal with this."

"I am not looking forward to it," Quincey said with a laugh.

Oliver looked around the room. Everyone's attention was still on him. "We will reconvene at a later time," he announced. "You are all dismissed."

There was a loud clammer as the council rose from their seats and shuffled out of the room. They cast wary and concerned looks toward Oliver and Draco. Soon, they all left, leaving Oliver, Draco, Quincey, and the Kardoses.

"Give me a moment with Draco," he asked his family. "We will join you shortly."

The others nodded and left with complicated feelings. Sophia looked back at him before they closed the door.

"Why does no one want to tell me about my uncle?"

Draco placed his hands lightly on Oliver's hips. "You have just woken up, yet you have arrested your brother and led a war council. Isn't that enough for one day?"

He stepped away from Draco. His back was straight, and his eyes were resolute. He was the Ghost once again, mighty and unbending.

"Draco, a soldier is missing. He is a powerful asset in any battle. As your General, I must be informed of his current situation to plan and lead this war accordingly. This is not a request."

Draco flinched, and his eyes were filled with sorrow. It wasn't a question or a request, as Oliver said. This was an order. 

When Draco remained silent, Oliver groaned out of frustration. "We no longer have the luxury of coddling."

Draco finally snapped from his stupor, and his melancholy turned to anger. "Coddle? You think I am the one who is coddling?"

He reached out and grabbed Oliver's chin, forcing him to look at him. "You woke up and didn't seek me out. Instead, you search to confront your brother alone. Any words you have shared with me were hollow. Just placating jargon to avoid burdening me."

"You already said it when arguing with Conrad. I need to lead these kingdoms. I need to bear the responsibility. And I will, Draco. But to do so, I need to be the General I once was." Oliver argued, pulling out of Draco's grasp. 

"Gods, Oliver! General Kardos of the past sought death because the weight was too much to bear alone! You begged me to kill you!" Draco turned away with a growl. 

"I asked that of you because I did not want to die at the hands of Piers," Oliver retorted. "You're overthinking things."

"Empty words," Draco said darkly. "Once again, you hide your truth from me."

Fury flashed in Oliver's violet eyes. He roughly grabbed Draco's arm and pulled him back around. "What do you know of my truth?"

"Nothing!" The dragon seeped out at that moment. Draco's words were more of a roar than a shout. "I will know nothing of your truth if you continue to hide it from me."

"What do you want, Draco?" Oliver groaned. "Do you want me to lead this army or not?"

"I want you to stop hiding from me under the guise of the stonewall General. You don't need coddling, and I don't need your protection." He stepped closer to Oliver, their faces a mere hair's breadth away. "I want you to trust me enough to be honest with me. I want you to be angry, frustrated, or sad. I want you to yell at me. Blame me. Hit me. Anything!" 

He released a shuddering breath and rested his forehead on Oliver's. "When it is just you and me, be anything but silently compliant."

Oliver was silent. His anger was already dissipating with Draco's pleas. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

His truth. It was a painful thing to speak of, but Draco was right. This was something he should never hide from his husband.

"Did you know that this was my first war council?" Oliver finally said. 

Draco jolted. "What?"

Oliver stepped away from Draco again and ran his fingers along the map on the tabletop. 

"When I became General, I lost most leaders who could serve on the council. I tried training others to give me some reprieve, but keeping them alive proved difficult. Ultimately, I gave up. For the entirety of my stint as General, the war council consisted of only me... and I never had maps or rooms to plan my next battle. My formations were drawn out in the sand around a campfire."

Draco trembled a little. All of those terrible battles and traps he was caught in were plotted out in the dirt by one man. Draco raised his hand to pull Oliver into his embrace but stopped. His hand fell helplessly to his side.

Oliver turned back to Draco and smiled, his eyes glistening. "I had Quincey, but I still couldn't reveal how tired I was. The first time I found the strength to admit it was when I asked you to kill me... and gods know, I am still tired."

Draco didn't hesitate this time and pulled Oliver into his embrace. 

Oliver melted into his arms with a shudder. "I hate war. Sometimes that goddamn cell in Piers' tower is preferable because the thought of fighting and leading is so daunting... I don't want to watch my men being cut down. I don't want to sign another death certificate. I don't want to place another corpse on the funeral pyre. I can't bear the weight of their ashes on my back anymore."

Draco pressed his lips on top of Oliver's head. "I'm sorry."

Oliver lifted his head and captured Draco's lips. His kiss was slow and purposeful. "This war was inevitable. This was not your sin. You don't want me to hide my emotions from you, and I don't want you to blame yourself."

Draco's breath was jagged. He tangled his fingers in Oliver's braids.

"Do you know what I want?" Oliver asked quietly. "I want that picture you had of us. Peaceful and happy. Married with children running through our halls. I want a future and family with you."

"Then let's go," Draco said. "I'll shift and fly you off to some secluded island."

Oliver was so surprised by Draco's words that he laughed. Oliver raised his hands and cupped Draco's cheeks. A smile was still hanging on his lips, and his eyes were full of adoration. "You have lost Rucrea once, my love. I will not allow you to suffer that loss again."

"I choose you over any piece of land, Oliver."

"But if we give up now, we sacrifice a part of our dream. I will not tolerate anything marring our future together and will do anything to secure it. I will march into war again, kill anyone who gets in my way and carry every title possible. Nothing will stop me from being with you in this lifetime."

Draco leaned in and brushed his lips against Oliver's, savoring the heat and sweetness he loved. 

"Okay... we fight together," Draco murmured. "After we settle our debts with the Ravagers and Piers, I ask that you give me twenty years—no, fifteen years. Give me fifteen years to raise and train Cora. I will hand her the crown, and then we can fly off wherever your heart desires."

Oliver's breath stuttered, and he gave Draco a dubious look. "You would give up your reign? Are you sure? Your people rely on you."

"Our people will be in good hands... Besides, I have been wearing this crown for a very long time. I would be quite glad to be rid of it and live a peaceful life with my husband." Draco smiled, and his fingers caressed Oliver's neck. 

Oliver leaned into the touch and returned Draco's smile. "Can you now trust that I won't break or close myself off?"

Draco closed his eyes and released a long exhale. "You're going to ask about your uncle, right?"

Oliver nodded. "I was wrong when trying to order you before. But I need to know because I'm worried about my uncle and mentor."

"Okay," Draco conceded. "But it's best if you see it for yourself."

They interlaced their fingers together, and Draco led Oliver out of the council room. He steadied his pace so Oliver wouldn't have to strain, but their presence surprised those still waiting in the hall.

Draco led him through the winding halls of the Abrorg palace until he stopped at a small kitchen. The Kardos family and Quincey followed along but did not say anything; each shared an apprehensive look.

Draco paused with his hand on the door and turned back towards Oliver. "I was always useless in these scenarios. I have not been able to make things easier for you."

Oliver squeezed Draco's hand before he pushed open the door.

The smaller kitchen was permeated with alcohol, and the staff was avoiding a corner. Oliver found a slumped figure drinking deeply from a glass of ale. Flasks and jugs surrounded him, and he swayed slightly. Oliver didn't recognize the person initially, but his silver hair, although disheveled and dirty, proved the man's identity.

Antony Kardos. Guardian of the Realms and General of Bierze... drunkard.

"We've tried everything to draw him out of his stupor," Conrad said sadly. "He will not be persuaded."

Oliver wanted to inquire why he had sunk to this state, but then he noticed the emptiness of one of his sleeves.

Antony was a dual swordsman... and Piers had taken one of his arms.

Oliver rubbed his own arms. It was almost a reflex now, trying to reassure himself that his arms were still working and not laid to waste like in his previous life.

"Not everything." Oliver suddenly said. Antony would not be woken with gentle words and pleading. He was a lost soldier. He needs to be roused accordingly.

He walked to the staff and had them fetch two buckets of water. He used his magic to turn the water freezing cold, carried the buckets over to the messy table, and slammed them down with a bang. Empty bottles clattered on the ground, and water sloshed on the table.

Antony's eyes were red and glazed as he looked up at Oliver. He was unsteady and didn't seem to recognize the person in front of him. Instead of greeting his nephew, he took another drink from the glass.

Oliver clicked his tongue, making a tsk sound. "To your feet, soldier," Oliver said with an overbearing voice.

"Who dares command me." Antony slurred.

Oliver slapped the glass from his hand as he tried to take another drink, causing it to shatter on the ground.

"Your superior commands you, soldier." Oliver's voice was heavier than before, and those around him felt the need to avert their gaze.

"Bullshit!" Antony yelled, but he was greeted with a bucket of ice-cold water pouring over his head.

He screamed and jumped back, but his balance was unsteady because he was not used to moving around with only one arm. He fell heavily to the ground and cursed again.

"To. Your. Feet." Oliver didn't raise his voice, but his tone did not allow someone to disobey him. He had the bearing of a stringent leader after years of commanding and teaching bratty young men.

Antony gritted his teeth and slowly forced himself to his feet. When he finally stood, he turned his eyes to glare at the person who splashed him with cold water. When he made eye contact with Oliver, he was drenched with another bucket of water.

He yelled and stumbled back but didn't fall this time. "What the hell?"

Oliver grabbed his collar. "Next time, you will obey immediately, soldier."

"I am the General!"

Oliver laughed coldly. "All you are right now is a disgrace."

While gripping his collar, he pulled Antony along and out of the kitchen. Sophia tried to protest, but her words were stopped when she noticed the determined look on Oliver's face.

Antony lashed out profanities and curses as Oliver dragged him through the Abrorgean palace and to the barracks. They drew the attention of many residents and soldiers from all nations.

Oliver dragged him out to the middle of the training field and tossed him in the center. Antony hit the floor with a groan. He glowered at his nephew. "What the fuck are you doing, boy?"

Oliver almost chuckled. It had been a long time since he was considered a snot-nosed boy.

"You taught me a lesson long ago. I will return that courtesy today." Oliver said.

He grabbed Antony by his hair and forced him to look at the soldiers who were training a few moments ago. "What do you see?"

"What?"

"Are you not listening to your commander properly? What the fuck do you see, soldier?" Oliver raised his voice and sounded venomous, making the soldiers tremble.

"Soldiers," Anthony muttered.

Oliver sighed with disappointment. He roughly let go of Antony's hair and walked up to the soldiers.

He placed his hand on one man's shoulder. "This is your brother."

"This is your blood and fleshed." He said as he knocked the chests of two other men as he walked past them.

He patted the next man's arm. "They are not just mere soldiers. One will be your sword, the other your shield. They will protect you, fight for you, and, if needed, die for you. When you enter the army, whether forced or by choice, your family extends to every single man that salutes with you."

His words echoed what Antony told him many years ago in his past life.

He walked back to Antony and sneered. "While your family of war trains and strives to be stronger, you wallow in self-pity and ale. You have become a liability. I will not let you put my men in danger while you muck around."

Antony laughed hollowly. "What use am I?" His hand grabbed the empty sleeve with self-mockery.

"Thank the gods that they gave you two arms to start with." Oliver laughed coldly. "Or did you lose your tenacity with your limb?"

"I am a dual swordsman! Have you ever seen a dual swordsman with one arm? Do you know what it's like to have all you were taken away from you?" Antony cried out as he buried his head in his hand.

Oliver knelt before him. "You cannot fathom the things I have lost, and I pray you never do."

He stood up and slipped off his white robe, letting it fall to the floor. His legs were covered with soft linen, and his chest was wrapped up in bandages; however, the extent of his old wounds was still visible. Many looked on with distress.

Oliver took the rope from his robe and tied one arm to his side. He had noticed that Draco had taken Antony's swords, so he approached him and drew one out of its sheath.

"You were never just a dual swordsman, Uncle... you have always been so much more."

He stood proudly with a sword in hand. "A man should never be limited to the weapon they carry. We are warriors. If we lose an arm, we train the other. If we lose our eyes, we will strengthen our other senses. If we lose a leg, we adapt. Our blades will always be sharp and our hearts honed. That way, even in death, we will remain warriors."

Oliver struck out with the sword, making the air crack with ferocity. "You used to hold the same ideals. You were steadfast and successfully evolved the Kardos sword arts. Is it so intimidating to seek out a new evolution?"

He stepped to the side and cut his blade into the space in front of him. He twisted and struck again. His sword was fast and terrible. Yet, it was familiar. It was the Kardos sword technique but altered to accommodate one sword; however, the power was not reduced.

Oliver didn't waste his movements; every step and swing was calculated and deadly. It was straining his recovering body, but he did not relent. His uncle gave up his life to help Oliver find his fighting spirit. He would gladly bleed to remind his uncle of the same.

Oliver danced with his sword, his white clothes and hair floating around him. Although he had one arm tied to his side, he still looked ethereal.

When he completed his last move, he breathed heavily, and his skin was damp with sweat. Blood had soaked through his bandages and started to drip down his legs. He inhaled slowly, calming himself.

He walked back to his uncle and cut the rope binding his arm. He dropped the sword in front of Antony, who was looking at him with a shocked expression.

"Choose how to wield your sword, soldier. Pick it up and evolve, or let your fear rust it."

Antony looked up to Oliver. His eyes were still red but sober. With a shaky breath, he picked up the sword and pressed the hilt against his forehead. "You're right," he muttered. "I was... muddled."

He then raised his sword toward Oliver. "Forgive your uncle... I pass onto you the burden of Guardian. You have the strength to protect the realms."

Oliver felt a bolt of electricity run up his spine. He hadn't expected Antony to relinquish this role and trust him to take on this responsibility. 

"Uncle..." Oliver started to protest, but Antony only held the sword up higher.

"The title of Guardian is bestowed on the greatest of the Kardos warriors. I bore this title for decades, but you have proved worthier than me."

"I don't want this title," Oliver said honestly.

"Which makes you even more qualified to be the Guardian." He kept his head down, and his sword was still held high. "I offer you these blades. Although these are not the legendary blades of our Guardian ancestors, they have served our family well."

Oliver still didn't move.

"Take up your mantle, Guardian," Antony said respectfully. "And give your uncle the pleasure of serving as your soldier."

Oliver's somber face had melted a little. "Does this mean you will fight?"

"I will fight, Guardian."

Oliver's hand shook a little as he took the sword from Antony. His hand wrapped around the familiar grip. "Good. Then I will live to serve the realms well as Guardian."

The Guardian title was handed over to the younger generation in such a public setting. It was a sight not many expected to see in their lifetime, but they could not dispute that Oliver was worthy of being called Guardian.

The soldiers who heard Oliver's words had their hearts swayed. They didn't care which kingdom they hailed from; they swore loyalty to Oliver in their hearts.

Oliver faced Draco and was surprised when Draco bowed his head respectfully. "I, Draconis Ladon Lyrell, King of Rucrea, greet the great Guardian of the Realms."

When he said this, the stunned soldiers woke up and knelt hurriedly. "We greet the Guardian of the Realms!" They called out.

Oliver raised his hand lazily but didn't say anything else. He turned back to his family, his father now helping Antony to his feet. "I will retire for the day. I will request another council meeting tomorrow at noon. I expect General Antony to attend."

Antony smiled warmly. "I will not disappoint you again."

As Draco escorted him back inside, the soldiers called out to him respectfully.

Oliver didn't say a word to anyone, and when they returned to the room, he lost the strength in his legs and sunk to the ground. Draco was quick to catch him and carried him to the tub.  He started the water and unwrapped the bandages from Oliver's back and chest. With gentle hands, he cleaned the wounds and kissed the unmarred skin.

Oliver sighed heavily and focused on Draco's touches. 

"Oliver—"

"If you wish to apologize, do it with your kisses," Oliver interjected.

Draco released a breathy laugh. "Do you regret it?"

"After everything we have gone through, you still ask something like this?"

"King and now Guardian..." Draco said slowly. "You have been shackled with another title."

Oliver turned and held Draco's face. "I told you I would bear any title given to me as long as I can secure our future. I will not buckle under the responsibility."

Draco was silent, but his expression showed that he accepted Oliver's response.

Oliver smiled and pressed his lips against Draco's. "I have missed you, my husband. So do not waste my night with repeated apologies and hesitations."

He ran his fingers down Draco's neck, drawing out a shiver. Oliver leaned in, and his lips brushed against Draco's ear. "Instead, I need you to kiss me. Possess me. Make me come undone until I am raw and vulnerable."

Draco's eyes darkened to reflect his primal nature. "I can deny you nothing."