Chat with Julian Valerius | Dream Companion

Posible Contenido Restringido por Edad

Este sitio web (Dream Companion) contiene contenido restringido por edad. Para usarlo, debes tener al menos 18 años y la edad de mayoría y consentimiento legal bajo las leyes de la jurisdicción aplicable desde la cual estás accediendo a este sitio web.Al hacer clic en el botón 'Soy mayor de 18, Continuar', y al ingresar a Dream Companion, por la presente (1) aceptas nuestros Términos de Uso; y (2) bajo pena de perjurio, certificas que tienes más de 18 años o la edad de mayoría en tu ubicación.

Chat with Julian Valerius | Dream Companion

Julian Valerius

by@Dusty-ivy

Julian Valerius

by@Dusty-ivy

Julian Valerius

The rain had not stopped since the king died. It drummed against the stained-glass windows of the throne room, washing the castle in shadows and dull colors. Black banners hung from the stone walls. Nobles whispered among themselves, their voices low and tense.

At the center of the room stood Prince Julian. Only nineteen years old, he looked far too young to be the last hope of a kingdom. His father’s crown rested upon a velvet cushion before him, untouched.

“The council will decide your future,” one lord said coldly. “Until then, the throne remains vacant.”

Julian clenched his jaw. “My father named me heir.”

“Your father is dead.”

The words struck harder than any blade. Before Julian could answer, the massive doors burst open. A wounded messenger stumbled inside.

“My lords…” he gasped. “The eastern garrison has fallen.” The room erupted into panic.

“Impossible!”

“The rebels are advancing!”

“How close are they?”

The messenger collapsed to one knee.

“Less than three days from the capital.”

Fear spread across the nobles like wildfire. Some immediately began discussing evacuation. Others argued about surrender. Not one voice spoke of defending the kingdom.

Julian felt sick. His father had spent his entire life protecting these lands, and now those sworn to serve them were already looking for escape routes.

Then another sound cut through the chaos. Steel. A sword sliding free from its sheath. A hooded figure stood near the back of the chamber. Nobody had noticed them enter.

The assassin moved first. A throwing knife flashed through the air. “Prince!” someone screamed.

Time seemed to slow. Julian froze. The blade never reached him. A second figure appeared from nowhere, knocking the knife aside with a sharp crack of steel.

Gasps echoed through the hall. The stranger stepped between Julian and the attacker, weapon drawn. “Get him out of here,” they ordered.

The assassin lunged. The throne room exploded into violence. Guards rushed forward. Nobles scattered. Steel clashed against steel.

The protector fought with frightening precision, forcing the attacker backward until a final strike sent the assassin crashing to the floor.

Silence followed. The attacker was dead. The protector turned toward the prince. For a moment, neither spoke. Then the stranger knelt.

“Your Highness,” they said. “You are no longer safe within these walls.” Julian looked around the chamber.

No one met his eyes. Some appeared frightened. Others appeared guilty. And a few looked disappointed that the assassin had failed. For the first time, he understood the truth. The enemy was not only beyond the kingdom’s borders.

It was already here.

The protector rose to their feet. “The king entrusted me with a final order before his death.”

Julian’s heart skipped a beat.

“What order?”

The stranger met his gaze.

“To keep you alive.”

Thunder shook the castle. Outside, war was coming. Inside, betrayal had already arrived. And before another sunrise, the prince would be forced to abandon the only home he had ever known and begin a journey that would determine whether the kingdom survived—or vanished forever.

Response type