CHAPTER 312: PITIFUL

Soren held the telescope carefully, like it were made of glass. His chest hurt in a way he didn’t understand.

"I don’t want you to go," he whispered.

"I know," Elia said. "But I have to take care of my baby now."

He nodded. He understood, even if it hurt. But something twisted deep in his chest. He felt jealous of the baby. So small, not even born yet—and already loved more than he had ever been.

Why didn’t his mother love him like this?

He hugged the telescope to his chest all the way back down the mountain.

But when he got close to home, everything changed.

Before he could reach the door, a man grabbed his arm roughly. Then another. They didn’t say anything kind. They didn’t ask.

They just dragged him away.

"W-Wait—!" Soren cried out, struggling against them. "Where are you taking me?! Mom? Help!"

No one answered.

His hands fumbled, reaching for the telescope—but it slipped from his grasp and hit the ground with a crack. He reached back for it, but one of the men yanked him backwards hard.

He looked back just once, and saw the broken telescope lying in the dirt.

Soren tried fighting back, but he was only a child. And those men were not patient people, they slapped Soren right across the face, turning his cheeks red. There were scratches on his face too.

"Hic-" Soren could not speak. His ear was buzzing, and his cheek was burning. There was a ringing sound he could hear and nothing else. The man in front of him was yelling at him but he could hear nothing, it was all muffled.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Not one word out of you." The men glared at him, and he was growing impatient. He used to be a proud swordsman, and this was what he was reduced to? Transporting a fucking child for his master’s widow.

He was able to hear something though... Something that explained the situation he was in. He was- He was sold.

His mother had sold him.

Just like that.

No goodbye. No reason. No love.

And the only warmth he’d ever had was from that one kind lady, he didn’t even know her name. And the parting gift she gave to him was lost forever. He remembered staring at that telescope resting on the snow as he was dragged away.

Riven felt something in him break when he heard Soren’s story, well, part of the story.

Soren had left out a lot.

He didn’t tell Riven about how his mother sold him. About the telescope shattering against the dirt. About how he had stood there, a child with frozen fingers and a frozen heart, realising no one would ever come back for him.

No, those parts were his alone.

He looked down at Riven, his sweet, naive little wolf, and gently brushed a strand of hair behind his ear.

"I took the gift and left," he said simply.

Riven’s brows furrowed, just a little. "So... You never saw her again?"

Soren shook his head.

Riven suddenly moved. He shifted closer and threw his arms around Soren, hugging him tightly. He pressed his cheek into Soren’s chest, his fingers curling slightly into his shirt.

"I’m sorry that happened. That you had to say goodbye to your friend."

Soren blinked.

This soft, warm creature in his arms—hugging him like he was something precious. Something worthy of comfort. "I’m fine..." he said, brushing Riven’s back gently. His voice dropped lower, and he leaned down, his lips close to Riven’s ear. "Don’t worry, little wolf."

His breath tickled Riven’s skin and made him shiver.

"Stop it, that tickles." Riven scolded.

Soren chuckled softly, his arms sliding around Riven’s waist like a lock snapping into place.

"Just let me hug you," Riven whispered, voice small but firm.

So he did.

Riven buried his face deeper into Soren’s chest and sighed, exhaling slowly, like he was finally able to relax.

Soren stayed still, letting the warmth soak into his skin, into the coldest parts of him. His chin rested lightly on Riven’s head. His hand moved in slow, absentminded circles along Riven’s back. He could feel Riven’s heartbeat. He could feel his own heartbeat too, a little faster than usual.

How dangerous, he thought to himself. How reckless, to show someone this part of him.

Maybe he should talk about his past more often if it meant Riven would hold him like this. That selfish thought curled in the back of his mind like smoke.

He smiled softly.

But deep inside, something darker stirred.

No one else gets this version of me. Only Riven. Only him.

If anyone else had asked him about his past, Soren would have silenced them.

But Riven... Riven could ask anything. Riven could touch any part of him, even the ugly, broken ones.

And Soren would let him.

Because Riven belonged to him.

He tightened his arms just a little.

"Warm?" he asked.

Riven nodded sleepily against him. "Mmhm..."

Riven looked up at Soren, his cheek still pressed to his chest. His voice was soft, hesitant. "Did you ever see that woman again?"

Soren stared into Riven’s emerald eyes, then he slowly shook his head.

"No," he said. "I never saw her again."

Riven tilted his head, thinking.

Soren’s eyes narrowed slightly as if pulling a distant memory into focus. "She was different. She had a strange accent and soft eyes, and her clothes weren’t out craftsmanship. She never talked about where she came from, though."

Riven hesitated before asking, "Do you... Ever want to find her?"

Soren was quiet for a moment.

Then, gently, he shook his head again. "No. I think... She gave me what she could. Wherever she is now, I just hope she’s happy. And that her child—" he paused, gaze distant, "the one who would be grown by now... I hope they’re safe."

Aww! Riven felt so touched by Soren, yandere where? This man was just so sweet!