I Can't Escape This BL Story

The peace treaty banquet was a grand affair, held in the castle's sprawling ballroom. Tall, glittering chandeliers illuminated the space, and nobles and dignitaries from various territories mingled, their laughter and chatter echoing off the polished marble floors. Adrien stood near the far corner of the room, trying to blend into the background as best as he could.

He'd spent the entire morning preparing, reviewing Damian's advice about food testers and sealed drinks. Even now, his goblet remained untouched on the table beside him, his gaze flicking warily across the room. Every face felt like a potential threat, every laugh like a hidden blade.

"Your Highness," Damian said, stepping up beside him. "You seem tense."

Adrien sighed. "Tense doesn't even begin to cover it."

Before Damian could respond, a loud voice interrupted them.

"Well, well, if it isn't Prince Adrien."

Adrien's stomach sank. He recognized that voice immediately. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with Prince Eren of Vitrial—heir to the neighboring kingdom.

Eren was the very picture of aristocratic drama. His sharp, angular features were striking, and his golden hair fell in soft waves that gleamed under the chandelier's light. His emerald-green eyes were piercing, always alight with a mixture of mischief and annoyance, framed by thick lashes that would make most noblewomen jealous. He wore a meticulously tailored suit embroidered with intricate silver patterns, the Vitrial crest emblazoned on his chest. A pale blue sash draped across his shoulders, adding a regal touch to his flamboyant appearance. Yet, despite his polished exterior, there was always a faint pink tinge on his cheeks whenever he spoke to Adrien—though Eren would never admit why.

"Eren," Adrien said evenly, keeping his tone neutral.

"I see you haven't changed at all," Eren said, tossing his head and letting his blonde hair fall perfectly into place. "Still as unremarkable as ever."

Adrien blinked. "Thanks?"

Damian, who had been standing silently beside Adrien, suddenly stepped closer, his presence almost protective. "Prince Eren," Damian said, his voice smooth but with a sharp edge, "is there a reason for your hostility?"

Eren's cheeks flushed, and he stammered, "Hostility? Don't be absurd! I'm merely pointing out the obvious."

Adrien sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He remembered this part of the novel well. Eren was a classic tsundere—prone to insults and dramatics whenever he felt embarrassed. Unfortunately, the embarrassment usually stemmed from his obvious crush on Adrien, a fact that the novel's original protagonist had found endlessly amusing.

"I'm fine, Damian," Adrien said quickly, hoping to diffuse the situation before it spiraled out of control.

Damian didn't move, his piercing gaze fixed on Eren. "If you're here for the treaty, Your Highness, perhaps you should focus on that instead of insulting my prince."

My prince? Adrien thought, glancing sideways at Damian. The knight's expression was calm, but there was a tension in his jaw that Adrien hadn't noticed before.

Eren bristled. "I wasn't insulting him! I was just...being honest!" His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a few nearby guests.

"Your Highness, your honesty might be better received if it were delivered with less...flair," Damian said smoothly, his words laced with sarcasm.

Adrien sighed again. "Can we not do this here? This is supposed to be a peace treaty, not a comedy show."

Eren flushed deeper, his fists clenching at his sides. "I-I'm not trying to fight! I'm here because...because..."

Adrien raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to finish.

"Because I care about the stability of our kingdoms!" Eren blurted, his face now a deep shade of red.

Damian scoffed softly, and Adrien shot him a warning look. "Right. Well, thank you for your concern, Eren," Adrien said diplomatically.

Before Eren could respond, the doors to the ballroom swung open, and the herald announced the arrival of the king's delegation.

King Alistair of Eldrin entered the room with a commanding presence that silenced all murmurs. His towering frame, broad shoulders, and proud bearing made him impossible to ignore. His features were chiseled, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that seemed to have been sculpted by an artist. His piercing blue eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the room with the precision of a hawk. His hair, once as dark as midnight, was now streaked with silver, giving him an air of wisdom and authority. Clad in a deep crimson robe lined with gold, the king exuded regality. The Eldrin crest—a roaring lion—was embroidered on his chest, the threads gleaming like fire under the chandelier's light.

Adrien's stomach churned. He knew what was coming. The feminine attack would strike soon, likely during or after the treaty signing.

The banquet proceeded as planned, with speeches, toasts, and endless small talk. Eren stuck close to Adrien throughout, much to Damian's visible annoyance. Every time Eren leaned in too close or spoke in an overly familiar tone, Damian's expression darkened just a fraction more.

At one point, Eren grabbed Adrien's wrist to pull him toward the refreshment table. "You have to try the pastries," he said eagerly, his earlier bravado replaced by a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

Damian appeared at Adrien's other side almost instantly. "His Highness can walk on his own, Prince Eren," he said coolly, prying Eren's hand away with a little more force than necessary.

Eren glared at him. "What's your problem?"

"I have no problem," Damian said, his tone icy. "I'm merely doing my duty as the prince's guard."

Adrien groaned inwardly. Why me?

Before the brewing argument could escalate further, a sharp cry rang out from the far side of the room. The crowd parted, revealing a young maid clutching her throat, her face pale and stricken.

"Poison!" someone shouted.

The room erupted into chaos. Adrien's heart raced as he scanned the scene. This wasn't part of the attack he remembered from the novel. Something was different.

"Stay close," Damian said, stepping in front of Adrien and drawing his sword.

Eren, surprisingly, didn't flee. Instead, he moved to Adrien's other side, his hand hovering over the hilt of his own blade. "I'm not letting anything happen to you," he said firmly, his earlier flustered demeanor replaced by determination.

Adrien didn't have time to process the shift. His focus was on the crowd, searching for the real threat. The maid's collapse was a diversion—he was sure of it.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and Adrien turned just in time to see a figure darting toward the dais where his father stood. The assassin moved quickly, their blade glinting in the light of the chandeliers.

"Damian!" Adrien shouted, pointing toward the dais.

Damian didn't hesitate. He surged forward, cutting through the crowd with ease. Adrien followed closely, his heart pounding in his chest.

The assassin reached the dais, their blade raised high, but before they could strike, Damian intercepted them, his sword clashing against theirs with a deafening ring.

The crowd gasped, and the room fell silent once more.

Adrien stepped forward, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "Who sent you?" he demanded.

The assassin sneered but said nothing.

Damian's blade pressed against their throat. "Answer the prince, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Adrien placed a hand on Damian's shoulder, stopping him. "No need," he said quietly. He turned to the guards. "Take them to the dungeon. I'll handle this later."

As the guards dragged the assassin away, Adrien felt the weight of the room's gaze on him. He straightened his shoulders, forcing a calm he didn't feel.

"Let's continue," he said, his voice firm.

The treaty would be signed. But Adrien knew the battle was far from over.