Despite his deep thinking, Nikkol perked up again when hearing footsteps walk down the hall.

Only to berate himself mentally once he saw it was a passing noble.

He had just resolved himself to not getting too attached and yet here he was desperate for a possible Setial.

He needed to remove his feelings from the situation.

But he couldn't help his attention being drawn once more with footsteps.

Only these footsteps were different.

They were loud and purposeful.

They were angry.

They clearly belonged to the subject of Nikkol's thoughts.

Forcing himself to keep looking straight ahead, he could barely stand still. He very badly wanted to break out of his stiff post and beg to the prince to get him out of what had become absolute torture.

He never expected for the prince to do what he did next.

Because instead of a hand grabbing his, he got a hand roughly grabbing his neck and forcing his face forward until it met a rough pair of demanding lips.

Eyes wide and stance broken, Nikkol was mentally panicking, all previous thoughts out the window.

His eyes scanned the halls quickly, thankfully seeing them clear, but he knew they wouldn't be for long. He knew the other guards could hear something going on, but weren't allowed to turn their heads to see exactly what, so they were no threat.

Nikkol wrenched himself out of Setial's grip, hands having to go behind his back to catch himself against the stone wall.

To know what his main goal was while behind closed doors was different than him doing this.

Nikkol recognized this as no act of affection.

It was an act disregarding his entire life.

It was an act meant to end his life.

Setial was trying to kill him.

He knew it wasn't the prince's main goal, but it was indirectly.

His eyes, a solid cloudy grey, were wide but filled with anger for whatever reason he came to diffuse. Nikkol had a strong suspicion that it was from whatever his half-brother and father came to him to talk about.

Setial tried to lean in again, but Nikkol's hands flew out and rested solidly on his chest, holding him away from himself.

Setial looked down at the guard's hands before lifting them up to study Nikkol's face.

Nikkol knew that if Setial really wanted to do this, to end his life with what he used to consider a loving gesture, he would. He could do it very easily with a few short orders.

So Nikkol tried to discourage him, with wide, scared eyes and a shaking of his head, 'no' being formed on his lips with not a sound coming out.

A look of annoyance came over the prince's face. He leaned closer, Nikkol pressing himself further into the wall, until his hand slipped down and grabbed Nikkol's and turned, stalking off to who knows where with Nikkol in tow.

This was exactly the second time that Nikkol was scared of where Setial was taking him. The first had been the first time the prince grabbed him.

This time, Nikkol had indirectly disobeyed him, fueled his anger. He didn't know what would happen to him once again.

And it was terrifying.

For the first time, Nikkol missed when his life wasn't complicated. When he would do the same predictable things every day with no surprises, no threats besides distant news of war. Where he could live.

He allowed no emotion to come to his face, eyes focused on where Setial's hand held him and keeping pace as they went to where Nikkol recognized as the prince's room.

The door was thrown open and they walked inside.

Nikkol didn't know what would happen next. There was a chance that the prince would want to share his bed once more but Nikkol really wasn't in the mood, the reminder of the prince wanting his death and all ruining it. There was also a chance Setial wanted to yell at him before arresting him or ordering his death, which was actually less preferable.

"Why did you push me away like that?" Setial's voice was unusually calm, and when Nikkol looked up his eyes met his.

"We were in the middle of a well used hall."

Setial's eyes narrowed. "What of it?"

Nikkol tilted his head in confusion. Did he really not know? Perhaps he just didn't care. "If anyone saw you would get scolded and your father would probably be upset with you." Setial looked like he was about to speak so Nikkol spoke faster. "I would likely get arrested and killed."

Setial finally broke the eye contact, looking lower and past the guard. "I never really thought about it like that."

"I don't mind you using me to relieve frustration or to just have fun," Nikkol didn't know why or when he had become so at ease with the prince, and later would be upset at himself for speaking so freely, "but when you use me in a way that would get me killed for something so petty as your fathers attention, that's where I draw the line."

Nikkol's eyes widened a second later, Setial looking at him expressionless, realizing that he had broken so many laws and rules with what he just said. He was surely to get arrested now. There was no question of his fate if he stayed, so he did something that might not have been his wisest move and left quickly.

His steps were fast, eyes down before realizing they should be up as he rushed back to his post, stopping and turning outwards once he got there.

A thousand thoughts were racing through his mind. He was in so much trouble. He'd never allowed himself to speak so freely to anyone except Edgal and he just spoke that way to the prince, spoke so out of line. The prince could very easily arrest him then and there and give any punishment he desired. He could be tortured. He could be killed.

Nikkol spent the rest of his shift waiting tensely for angry footsteps or the clanking of metal as guards came to get him. He tensed unnoticeably every time footsteps came his way.

But every time they just walked past without sparing him a thought.

Not a single person even glanced at him.

And the prince was nowhere to be seen.

This didn't relax Nikkol's nerves. Perhaps he was just debating whatever punishment he was to give him. Perhaps he was setting up a pyre to burn him alive the second he was arrested.

Nikkol didn't go to the tavern after his shift.

And he spent the rest of the night laying wide awake in bed, waiting for his door to be kicked in.