Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 164: Dare

Chapter 164: Dare

The king’s voice thundered through the grand banquet hall, his fury reverberating off the marble walls. "What is the meaning of this?!" he roared, his booming authority slicing through the stunned silence. Gasps and murmurs swept through the gathered nobles like a wave, but the couple at the center of the storm paid no mind.

In the middle of the opulent hall, Thorne held Noelle in a fierce, unbreakable embrace. It was as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of relief and love. Thorne’s lips brushed across Noelle’s face, pressing feather-light kisses to his temple, his cheeks, his forehead. The soft, unguarded words he whispered were only for Noelle, sweet nothings murmured like a balm for old wounds. Noelle nodded, his arms wrapped tightly around Thorne’s neck, clinging to him as though he were afraid this moment would slip through his fingers like sand.

Their reunion was an island of peace amid the chaos. They were wholly in their own world, a world built on the foundation of years of separation, longing, and unspoken promises.

From a few steps away, Duke Remiro watched the scene unfold, his brow furrowed in astonishment. The man he had come to know over the past several months, the one who had seemed cold and impenetrable, now held this slender young man with a tenderness Remiro had never thought possible. Thorne, who always appeared stoic and implacable, was transformed. Gone was the hard-edged warrior, and in his place was someone raw and heartbreakingly human. It was a side of Thorne that Remiro realized he’d never even imagined existed.

Celia, Thorne’s mother and the Duchess if Remiro stood near her husband, her own feelings a tangled mess of guilt and awe. She had never witnessed this side of her son, had never seen him express even a fraction of the affection he now displayed so freely. A pang of regret twisted in her chest as she realized how deeply she had failed him, how she had neglected and mistreated the boy who had needed so much more. She wasn’t deserving of joy on his behalf, but nonetheless, she couldn’t suppress the glimmer of relief she felt. At least, he had found his home in this man. The way she had found her home, despite all odds, in her own husband.

Count Grady, standing not far off, couldn’t suppress his wide, delighted grin. The entire spectacle was simply delicious, the most thrilling event to rock Vitra in years. Not since the infamous antics of the unruly princess had anything stirred the nobility this much. This scandalous, unexpected reunion was undoubtedly a story that would be whispered through palace halls and written in the annals of gossip for decades to come.

All around the hall, nobles of every rank and allegiance stood frozen, their jaws hanging in shock. This was supposed to be a day of celebration, a day to honor the king on his birthday. Yet here, amidst the gold and crystal, the king had just introduced his long-hidden nephew as a newly recognized prince—only for that same prince to be swept up in the arms of a complete stranger. The nobles had no idea how to process the sight of a man so fiercely embracing royalty, let alone the prince’s utter surrender to it.

The king had never experienced such unbridled disrespect in all his years of rule. His face flushed a deep, livid red, and it seemed that fury radiated off him in waves, nearly visible. He stood up abruptly, his fists clenched, his powerful voice echoing throughout the hall.

"Knights!" he roared, the command like a battle cry.

At once, armored knights came rushing into the hall, their swords unsheathed, gleaming ominously under the golden light of the chandeliers. The sound of metal boots clashing against the marble floor filled the grand room, but Thorne and Noelle, still locked in each other’s embrace, remained oblivious to the chaos that swirled around them. Their arms stayed wrapped around one another, bodies pressed close as if the world around them held no consequence.

"Remove him!" the king bellowed, his once composed and regal features twisted with rage. His emerald-green eyes blazed as he gestured furiously at Thorne, as if ordering the heavens themselves to tear them apart.

The knights approached with steely determination, their movements precise, but as they drew near, an unexpected force hurled them backward. An invisible shield erupted around Thorne and Noelle, sending the heavily armed men flying across the hall. Their bodies crashed into walls and tables, armor clattering to the ground in a cacophony of noise. Gasps and screams burst from the gathered nobles, who instinctively shrank away from the chaos, horrified by the display.

A collective wave of shock swept through the room. Duke Remiro, who had remained calmly observant through the unfolding events, didn’t flinch. His sharp eyes took in the scene with detached curiosity, as though he were a spectator at a theater performance, his mind turning over the implications of what he had just witnessed.

From the back of the banquet hall, Callan arrived just in time to see the knights being flung aside like rag dolls. His heart lurched with worry, and he pushed through the crowd, making his way toward his wife, Jane, who stood frozen in terror. He reached her side and placed a protective arm around her, his eyes darting nervously between the enraged king and the couple at the center of it all. The tension in the air was thick, electric, and he knew that at any moment, the situation could escalate into true catastrophe.

More knights rushed into the hall, their armor clinking as they formed a circle around Thorne and Noelle. Swords were raised, shields positioned, as they surrounded the couple like a coiled snake preparing to strike. The nobles looked on, holding their breath, as the air grew heavy with anticipation. It was a moment teetering on the edge of violence, and the entire hall seemed to hold still, waiting to see who would make the next move.

Thorne eventually, though reluctantly, released his hold on Noelle. With a protective motion, he stepped in front of him, placing himself between Noelle and the king. His broad shoulders and commanding presence shielded Noelle entirely, as if Thorne’s very body could act as an impenetrable fortress. He stood tall, his cane gripped tightly in one hand, though there was no hint of weakness in his stance. His gaze swept over the sea of knights and nobles, daring anyone to challenge him.

"No one make a move," Thorne warned, his voice deep and unyielding, each word carrying the weight of a simmering fury. "Because I’m really angry right now."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and unspoken but very much understood. The banquet hall, once so full of grandeur and music, had transformed into a battleground of emotion and unspoken dangers. Thorne’s presence exuded a sense of raw, restrained power, and for a moment, no one dared to move, not even the armored knights who had just arrived.

The king’s eyes flared with rage, and he jabbed a finger in Thorne’s direction. "You!" he roared, his voice cracking under the weight of his fury. He was unused to such insolence, such defiance, especially at his own celebration, and the sight of Thorne standing there, challenging him openly, was a blow to his pride. His chest heaved with anger, and for a moment, he looked like he might explode, the veins in his neck pulsing visibly.

"You dare disrupt my celebration," the king continued, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. "You dare lay hands on my nephew, in front of the entire court! In my palace! In my kingdom!"