knight's Royal Duty || Gonkillu ||

I'm

Gon wasn't easily fooled. He had known Killua for too long, had fought by his side through too many battles to miss the cracks in his façade. He could see the tension in Killua's eyes, the forced smiles, the way his voice wavered slightly when they spoke. Killua was pretending, and Gon knew why.

The weight of their situation was unbearable. Gon was being sent to the front lines of a war that neither of them believed in, and Killua was being forced to stand by, powerless to stop it. But Killua was pretending that everything was fine, trying to hide his fear and worry so that Gon wouldn't be distracted.

But Gon wasn't distracted—he was worried. Worried that Killua was suffering in silence, that he was carrying the burden of the kingdom's collapse on his shoulders without letting anyone in.

One evening, as the soldiers made their final preparations to depart for the front, Gon found Killua sitting alone in the palace gardens, staring up at the darkening sky. There was a heaviness in the air, a sense of finality that neither of them could ignore.

Gon approached quietly, sitting beside Killua without saying a word. For a long time, neither of them spoke, the silence between them filled with everything that was left unsaid.

Finally, Gon broke the silence. "You don't have to pretend, Killua."

Killua stiffened slightly, his hands tightening in his lap. "Pretend what?"

"That you're okay with this. That you don't remember what's happening," Gon said softly, his voice filled with quiet understanding. "I know you're trying to protect me, but you don't have to. I see through it."

Killua's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. The mask he had been wearing—his carefully constructed façade of calm and control—began to crack. He could feel the weight of everything pressing down on him, the fear, the anger, the helplessness.

"I can't lose you," Killua whispered, his voice trembling. "If I show how much I'm scared, she'll use it against us. I don't know how to stop this, Gon. I don't know how to protect you."

Gon reached over, gently placing a hand on Killua's. "You don't have to protect me alone. We've always faced things together. I'm not going anywhere—not without you."

Killua felt a lump form in his throat, the emotions he had been trying to bury threatening to spill over. He looked at Gon, his heart aching with both love and fear. "I'm scared, Gon. Scared that this war will take you away from me."

Gon's expression softened, and he squeezed Killua's hand gently. "I'm scared too. But I'm not going to let her win. We'll figure this out, no matter what."

For the first time in days, Killua allowed himself to let go of the mask. He leaned into Gon's side, his breath shaky but steadying as Gon wrapped an arm around him.

"I just don't want to lose you," Killua whispered again, his voice barely audible.

"You won't," Gon said quietly, his voice filled with softness. "I promise."

No more lies I beg

The next morning, the army began its march to the front. Killua stood on the steps of the palace, watching as the knights and guards formed ranks, their armor gleaming in the morning light. Gon stood at the head of his unit, his expression calm and focused, but Killua could see the glimmer of worry in his eyes as he glanced back toward him.

Killua wanted to rush down, to stop Gon from leaving, but he knew he couldn't. His father was watching from the shadows, and the queen's influence loomed over everything. If Killua made any move, it would only put Gon in more danger.

So he stayed silent, his heart aching as the soldiers began to march out of the palace gates, their footsteps echoing through the courtyard.

But as Gon's unit disappeared from view, Killua couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

The war was coming, and no matter how much they tried to fight it, it would change everything.

The days after Gon's departure felt like a blur to Killua. The palace, once filled with tension, was now quieter, but the silence was far from peaceful. The absence of the soldiers, the absence of Gon, left the halls feeling empty, and every step Killua took echoed through the corridors like a reminder of how alone he was. The queen, as always, maintained her composed façade, but Killua could feel her satisfaction growing with every passing day. Her plans were finally in motion, and there was nothing left for Killua to do but wait.

Wait for the war to begin.

Wait for Gon to return—if he returned.

Each night, Killua lay awake in his chambers, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts of Gon on the battlefield. His father had sent him into the heart of the conflict, commanding a group of knights in the queen's war. Gon was strong, capable, and brave—Killua knew that. But even Gon wasn't invincible. War was unpredictable, and the thought of losing him haunted Killua every second of the day.

He had tried to stay strong, to keep up the act of obedience that his father and the queen expected of him. But without Gon by his side, it was becoming harder and harder to maintain. Every time he thought of Gon marching into battle, Killua's carefully constructed walls began to crack, his emotions threatening to spill over.

And the worst part was, he had no idea when or how the war would end—or if it would ever end.

Days turned into weeks, and the palace remained eerily quiet. News of the war trickled in sporadically, carried by messengers who brought reports from the battlefield. Most of the news was vague—talk of skirmishes and minor victories, of territories gained and lost. But there was little mention of the knights or the specific units involved in the fighting.

Killua spent every waking moment listening for news of Gon. Every time a messenger arrived, his heart would race, hoping for some word that Gon was safe, that his unit had survived. But the reports were always general, always lacking in detail.

Then, one evening, as Killua was walking through the palace gardens, he overheard a conversation between two guards stationed nearby.

"They say the battles are getting worse," one guard muttered, his voice low. "The queen's forces are holding their ground, but the enemy's pushing back harder than expected. We've lost a lot of men already."

Killua's stomach twisted, and he stopped in his tracks, listening intently.

"Yeah," the other guard replied, his voice grim. "And I heard some of the knights have been taking heavy losses, especially in the eastern front. They're sending more reinforcements, but it doesn't look good."

The eastern front.

That's where Gon had been sent.

Killua's heart pounded in his chest, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. The fear that had been gnawing at him for weeks surged forward, threatening to overwhelm him. Gon was out there, in the middle of the worst of the fighting, and there was nothing Killua could do to help him.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. Panicking wouldn't help. He needed to stay focused, to figure out a way to find out more about what was happening on the battlefield. But every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do something—to run, to find Gon, to pull him out of the war before it was too late.

But how?