Marcus

I returned from hunting with a small haul: two rabbits and a pheasant. The crisp air carried the promise of an early winter, and I was grateful for the warmth of the base when I stepped inside.

William was at the kitchen table, dusting his hands off after working dough into another loaf. The fire crackled, and the smell of baking bread filled the room.

"You’re back late," he said, not looking up as he carefully adjusted a rising bowl of dough.

I shrugged, setting down my catch. "Took longer than I expected. I’ll clean these and prep them for tomorrow."

William glanced at me then, raising an eyebrow. "Did you even eat out there?"

"Not yet," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "I’ll grab something in a minute."

He rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on a towel. "You can’t keep skipping meals, Marcus. You’re going to collapse one of these days."

"I’m fine," I said, waving him off. "I’ve gone longer before."

"That doesn’t make it smart," he muttered, crossing the room. Then, with a pointed look, he added, "You won’t even make it to thirty if you keep this up."

I paused mid-motion, startled by the comment. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the odd way he said them—as if there was more behind them.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

William’s mouth twitched, but he only shook his head and turned back to the table. "Just take care of yourself, alright? Humor me."

I stared at his back for a moment, puzzled. There was a faint dusting of flour on his sleeves and his hands moved with purpose, but I couldn’t shake the feeling he was hiding something. It wasn’t unusual for him to scold me about eating, but this felt different—like he knew something I didn’t.

Later, as we sat at the table sharing the simple but hearty dinner William had prepared, I found myself glancing at him more often than I should. There was a warmth in the air, something unspoken but comforting. I cleared my throat, trying to find the words that had been lingering in my mind all evening.

"Nobody’s ever done this for me before," I said quietly.

William raised an eyebrow, his expression curious. "What, cook?"

I shook my head, hesitating. "No. Taken care of me. Like this."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath, unsure if I should share. But the way he looked at me made it easier to open up. "I’ve always been the one to look after my brothers. Our mother… she wasn’t kind. She… she hit us. Mostly me. I think she thought I was old enough to handle it. So I just… stopped coming home as much. I’d go hunting instead, bring back food for my brothers so they wouldn’t go hungry."

William’s eyes darkened with something I couldn’t quite name—anger, maybe, or sympathy. "That’s… a lot to carry on your own," he said softly.

I nodded, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve. "It’s just how it was. I didn’t mind as long as they were okay. But it’s strange now, having someone worry about me. I… I like it, though." I felt the heat rising to my face and quickly changed the subject. "What about you? Anyone ever… taken care of you like this?"

William’s lips twitched into a small smile, but he seemed to avoid the direct question. "I’ve always been on my own, more or less. Learned to fend for myself early on. Relationships… well, they haven’t been a priority."

His tone was careful, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the subject of gender. My heart raced as I decided to test the waters. "So, you’ve never… been with someone? Anyone special?"

He shrugged, his smile turning teasing. "You mean aside from you?"

I choked on a sip of water, and William laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, Marcus. I’m just teasing."

"You’re impossible," I muttered, though the heat in my cheeks betrayed me.

"But to answer your question; Not really. I’ve never needed it, I guess. People… they liked the way I looked, the muscles. I could usually choose who I spent my time with,“ William continued.

I blinked, taken aback by the casual confidence in his tone. "Oh," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "So, a lot of… partners?"

William shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Here and there. Nothing serious. Just… company."

It wasn’t what he said, but the deliberate vagueness of his words that caught my attention. No mention of gender. No details. My mind raced, but I forced myself to keep my tone light. "Sounds like you’ve had an interesting life."

His smile turned teasing. "Interesting might be one word for it. What about you? Was there someone?"

I nodded but kept my eyes down, my mind wandering back to my teen years and the stable boy I’d kissed in a moment of reckless, foolish joy. I could still remember the sting of the shame that followed when the village found out, the cruel whispers and the pointed fingers. William didn’t need to know all of that. Some things were better left buried.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I hesitated, my chest tightening. "There was… someone. Once." My voice dropped, and I looked down at my hands. "But people found out, and they… they didn’t take kindly to it. After that, I just… kept it to myself."

For a moment, the silence stretched too long. Then William’s voice broke it, soft but firm. "Marcus, you should never hide who you are. What you want. What you need."

I glanced up sharply, my heart skipping a beat. The way he said it—like he already knew, like he’d guessed more than I wanted him to. There was no teasing in his expression, no judgment. Just that steady, calm gaze that felt like it saw right through me.

"It… it doesn’t matter now," I said, forcing the words out even though my voice sounded strained.

"It does," William replied, his voice low. "More than you think."

My breath caught, and I looked away, my thoughts spiraling. Did he know? How could he know? But his words lingered, echoing in my mind long after the conversation had moved on.

Later, as I cleaned the pheasant by the fire, my thoughts wandered to the rest of the rebels. They’d been gone far too long. It gnawed at me, the uncertainty of their fate.

They must have been captured. The idea had lodged itself in my mind like a thorn, impossible to ignore. I tried to imagine what might have gone wrong, but the possibilities were endless. Ambushed? Betrayed? Or simply outnumbered, overwhelmed by the king’s forces? Every scenario left a bitter taste in my mouth.

We couldn’t wait for them forever. If they were alive, they would need us to keep this base operational, stocked, and fortified for the winter. If they escaped, they’d return to us with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and we’d need to be ready. And if they didn’t come back…

I shoved the thought away, focusing instead on the task at hand. The base had to be prepared, no matter what. Supplies needed gathering, repairs needed finishing, and if the worst came to pass, we’d have to go after them. The idea of launching a rescue filled me with equal parts dread and determination.

William had once said it would be reckless to attempt anything without more information, and he was right. But how much longer could we wait? Every day that passed, the winter crept closer, and so did the possibility that our comrades’ fates were sealed.

My hand stilled on the knife, and I stared into the fire. They wouldn’t give up on me, I told myself. I owed them the same loyalty.

"Marcus?" William’s voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up to see him watching me, concern in his eyes. "You alright?"

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Just thinking."

He studied me for a moment longer before nodding. "Don’t let it eat at you," he said quietly. "We’ll figure it out. Together."

I returned my focus to the pheasant, but his words lingered, a faint thread of hope weaving through the weight of my worry.

That night, as I crawled into bed, exhaustion weighed heavily on me, but my mind wouldn’t quiet. A fleeting thought pierced through the haze: tomorrow was my birthday. Thirty years. The realization came with a strange mix of emotions—a milestone that felt utterly insignificant given everything happening around us. No reason to mark the day. Not without the others here. It would just be another day of hunting, preparing, and waiting.

I resolved to push the thought aside and let sleep take me, but the awareness lingered, like a quiet ache in the back of my mind.

The first thing I noticed when I woke was that William’s bed was empty. The blankets were rumpled, but he was gone, which was unusual. It was early—so early that even the faint gray light of dawn hadn’t fully brightened the room. Normally, I’d be the one to rise first to head out for the hunt.

Frowning, I got up, pulling on a shirt and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The faint murmur of movement reached me from the common room. Curious, I padded out quietly, expecting to find William busying himself with some task.

What I saw stopped me in my tracks.

On the table in the center of the room sat the most delicious-looking cake I had ever seen. It was simple but perfect, with a layer of creamy frosting and decorations made of what looked like sugared nuts and dried fruit. William stood beside it, holding a small knife and looking impossibly pleased with himself.

"Happy birthday, Marcus," he said, his voice warm and full of pride.

I stared, utterly speechless. A lump formed in my throat as I took in the sight. The care he had put into it, the thoughtfulness—it was overwhelming. No one had ever done something like this for me before. My chest tightened, and before I could embarrass myself with tears, I crossed the room and gave him a quick, friendly hug.

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t even know what to say."

William chuckled, patting my back before stepping away. "You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy it. But…" His grin turned mischievous. "You’re not getting around the sweeping tradition."

I feigned confusion. "The what?"

With a laugh, he grabbed a bucket from the corner and unceremoniously dumped its contents—a harmless mix of dry leaves and crumbs—onto the floor. Then, he handed me the broom. "Thirty years means thirty sweeps. Get to it."

I groaned, rolling my eyes but smiling despite myself. "You’re insufferable, you know that?"

"And yet here you are, sweeping on your birthday," he quipped, leaning against the wall with an infuriatingly smug look.

I started sweeping, muttering under my breath but unable to keep the grin off my face. Each sweep felt more ridiculous than the last, especially with William standing there, clearly enjoying my plight. "You’re loving this, aren’t you?" I asked, pausing to glare at him.

"Oh, absolutely," he replied without hesitation. "You should see your face."

As I reached the last few sweeps, I leaned on the broom and raised an eyebrow at him. "You know how this tradition continues, right?"

He tilted his head. "Oh? Do tell."

"I need a maiden’s kiss to free me," I said, smirking. "So unless you’ve got one hiding somewhere…"

William’s teasing expression softened into something shy. He looked away for a moment, then back at me, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "Sorry," he said, his voice quieter now. "I don’t have that. But…"

Before I could process his words, he stepped closer and leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. The warmth of his lips lingered, and I froze, the broom slipping from my fingers.

My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at him, my breath hitching. The room seemed impossibly quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of the broom hitting the floor. Heat rose to my face, and I struggled to keep my composure, but my pulse betrayed me, pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it.

William didn’t step away immediately. His eyes held mine, the shy smile still playing on his lips. Then, slowly, his gaze dropped, lingering on my lips for a heartbeat before flicking back to my eyes. My stomach tightened, a mix of nerves and something else I couldn’t name.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Was this just another tease? Or was there something more behind the way his gaze softened, the way he lingered so close? My hand twitched at my side as I debated—should I close the distance? Should I risk it?

The question hung in the air between us, unspoken but heavy. William’s breath was warm, his proximity making it impossible to think clearly. My fingers curled into my palm as I wrestled with the urge to act, the fear of misreading him holding me in place.

After what felt like an eternity, William gave a small, nervous laugh and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck. "There," he said softly, his voice a little unsteady. "You’re free."

The spell broke, and I let out a shaky breath, a grin breaking through despite the whirlwind in my chest. "Thanks, William. For everything."

"Happy birthday, Marcus," he said again, his eyes meeting mine briefly before he turned back to the table. "Now let’s eat before the cake gets cold."