Before to Saying Goodbye: A Bath with the Queen
The door thudded softly shut, the noise immediately absorbed by the subsequent silence. Queen Sona stood beside it, fingers tracing the glinting brass handle. The room seemed quieter now—hollower in some way—since Lira’s sudden visit. A gentle exhalation escaped her lips as she turned away to face the chamber’s center, her mind still entwined in what had transpired.
But the instant she turned, her breath froze in her throat.
Leon emerged from behind the velvet drapes.
Or rather, glided out—like a shadow escaping the morning.
Half of his sculpted torso glowed in the soft light coming through the high windows. Water drops clung to his bronzed flesh, running down the undulations of muscle that seemed etched with heavenly precision. One blanket looped low around his waist, flowing negligently but with purpose—just so, to offer little to the imagination. His wet hair dropped in messy strands across his forehead, the black locks outlining those gold-dappled eyes that shone with teasing mirth. A smirk curled at the edge of his mouth.
"Did she leave?" he inquired, his voice a warm growl tinged with laughter.
Sona’s eyes rose to intersect his, but first they lingered—just for a beat—on the expanse of his chest. Her lips parted, then compressed as she took in another measured breath.
"You might’ve dressed before venturing out, Duke Leon," she said, one brow rising, arms crossing under her ribcage.
He laughed, moving toward her with that same lazy stride. "I weighed it. But then... I saw where your eyes wandered."
A laugh escaped her, brief but mortified. She tilted her head, although not quickly enough to conceal the slight flush on her cheeks. Her regal demeanor was intact, but the flush betrayed her.
Leon came closer, each step unhurried, deliberate. The tension between them shimmered in the air—warm, familiar, and alive. When he finally reached her, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her face up, drawn into the gravity of his presence.
His arms circled her waist, firm yet gentle, and he dipped slightly to brush his lips over her hair. "Why did Lira come?"
She leaned her head back to look at him, eyes scanning his face. "You were spying?"
"Of course," he said softly, the smile reappearing. "Didn’t see much, anyway. Didn’t have the courage to channel a lot of mana. Would’ve tipped off your alert knight."
He didn’t need to explain further. Sona knew exactly what he meant—mana use inside her chambers was sensitive, especially under Tsubaki’s constant watch. A slight fluctuation could trigger suspicion, and Leon had no intention of rousing that kind of attention. Not yet.
Her fingertips caressed his chest now, slow and contemplative, resting lightly on the heat of his skin. "She asked to come to your mansion," she said softly. "Said she wanted breakfast... with Rias. And your other wives."
Leon blinked, a flash of surprise crossing his face.
"My mansion?" he repeated slowly, one eyebrow rising as a flashing glint—half amusement, half curiosity—lit his eyes. A moment passed before his lips curled slightly, voice tinged with wry irony.
But behind the light tone, his thoughts were already running. A fleeting frown creased his brow.
Why would she want to go there, unless...
His mind flashed back to the previous night. He had scanned her emotional frequency using the system. The love gauge—astoundingly high. It wasn’t a coincidence. And if she gazed at him. he could still remember the soft glimmer behind her eyes, that faint quiver in her emotional frequency. A whisper, not quite there—but revealing.
Was she going there to visit me? Or. to visit Rias?
It was an odd question—though not without cause. He knew Lira was spontaneous, never afraid to act on instinct. But this. this was different. There was intent behind her coming. A secret thread of desire.
Was it for him—the man she professed to love secretly?
Or for me—the one who stood before her, witnessing her heart unfold one breath at a time?
He didn’t say the question aloud. The air was too delicate to push. Instead, his smile gentled, his face a mask.
"Oh," he whispered, the word bathed in easy teasing. "Then I should come back to the mansion as well."
Sona raised her head from his chest, her brows furrowing as she narrowed her eyes.
Leon nodded, pushing back her hair with tender fingers.
"Yes, dear. I’ve already disappeared for a whole night without a word with my wives. They’re probably worried. And if I’m gone much longer..." He chuckled, low and warm. "My wives might burn the place down looking for me. And if they don’t find me, they’ll assume I’ve gone hunting for more of their sisters again."
A deep blush crept over her cheeks as he called her "new sister"—the words painted scarlet across her fair skin. She didn’t argue. Not this time.
Her voice came softer now, woven with reluctant acceptance. A quiet sadness tugged at each word.
Leon felt it instantly—the shift in her tone, the weight behind her words. His gaze softened, filled with a tenderness that only she ever saw.
Not for long," he vowed, stroking his knuckles lightly along her cheek. "Just to maintain appearances. You know why I must."
"I know," she breathed, voice barely a whisper. "But that doesn’t mean I wish to release you.
His thumb followed the shape of her lips, slow and gentle. "We’ve waited so long for this, Sona. We stepped over the line—there’s no turning back now. And I won’t let you go. Not again. Just a little more time... and I’ll take you out of here. For real. No shadows, no pretence."
His smile flashed—briefly—before he leaned in, voice like a promise in her ear.
"No one will ever tear us apart again. Just hold on to our little while longer...."
Her breath hitched. Their gazes connected, held in an unspoken understanding that said all they’d ever been afraid to say out loud.
And in that stillness, she nodded.
In that one small movement was her surrender, her unspoken faith, her silent yearning.
But then—his smile came back, this time with a wicked glint.
"But first..." His voice dropped, velvety smooth and twice as deadly. "Why don’t we pause, my dear queen... and share a bath?"
She blinked, taken aback for only a moment—then her lips spread into a smile, equal parts teasing and knowing.
The aching from last night had worn off a long time ago, relieved by the pill he’d administer to her before morning. Her body felt light once more, her heart lighter.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Leon—"
He didn’t allow her to continue.
His smile broadened, wolfish and mischievous. "A soothing one. Or... or not so soothing."
She stood there, hesitating for a breath, balancing the teasing in his voice—then nodded once, firm and unhesitant.
Actually, she wasn’t ready to release him either. Not yet.
Decision made, Leon strode without another word. With a fluid crouch, he stooped and slipped one arm under her knees, the other around her back, and scooped her up with ease into his arms.
She gasped, laughing half-heartedly, hanging on his neck. "Leon—!"
He laughed low in his throat. "Don’t worry, Your Majesty," he teased, moving away from the couch. "I’ll be gentle."
"That’s what you said last night!" she retorted, laughter threading her voice.
His smile grew wider as they approached the far wall. "Which way, my queen?" he asked, though the answer was already on his lips.
She lifted her arm, the other woman tightly wrapped about him. "Right side. Behind the wardrobe."
He did not slacken speed. His footsteps were firm, authoritative, each step whispering softly against the chamber floor.
They came to the shining wooden door. She bent forward, fingers wrenching the golden handle with practiced ease. The latch clicked, and the door creaked softly behind.
A warm wave of perfumed air met them—jasmine and rosewater carried in the steam, drifting through the heat emanating from the highly polished marble. It wrapped itself like a gentle sigh around them, a hospitable sigh from the close space within.
Held still in his arms, she sensed the subtle quiver of his breathing against her flesh as they entered.
The bathroom was no less luxuriant than the rest of her private quarters. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors in elegant lines caught the golden glow of lanternlight, and all details—down to the gilded hardware and the soft curve of the arched window above the sunken tub—spoke of riches inflected with elegance. The water glimmered enticingly, steam coiling in dainty patterns that kissed glass and walls.
Leon moved closer, his boots making no sound on the stone, and the door at their backs closed softly, surely.
There was silence—but for one breath.
Then the rushing of water as bodies fell into the heat. of lips meeting halfway in hunger tempered by memory. of muffled gasps and sighs carrying softly in the haze. Kisses deepened, limbs were entwined, the steam about them grew heavy with each pulled breath and soft moan.
Each sound was incorporated into a rhythm shared only by two hearts relearning what had long been warm in the subterranean currents of their flesh. The bath was no longer a site of purification and instead was a sanctuary for flesh and emotion—where longing slipped beyond restraint and took its voice through each tender, pleading motion.
Time lost its position. The water was gently agitated by their movements, the only onlookers being the reflected walls and scented vapor.
And when finally the passion cooled into still warmth, all that remained was the gentle ripple of the water—echoing like a cradle-song around them.