Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!-Chapter 265: Memories

The soft clop of the horse’s hooves faded into silence as Ronan brought them to a gentle stop at the crest of the hill. The wind was cooler here, curling through the grass and trees like a whisper of things long past. Riven blinked at the view. It was beautiful!

"Where are we?" he asked softly.

Ronan didn’t answer right away. He slid off the horse and reached up to help Riven down, steadying him by the waist as he did. His hands lingered for a moment before he took a few steps ahead, expecting Riven to follow.

They walked in silence, the hush between them not awkward but reverent. The path was lined with wildflowers—gold, white, and violet—bending in the breeze. It led to a small stone marker nestled beneath a tall tree that cast a long, dappled shadow.

It wasn’t a grand memorial. There were no clan insignias, no engraved tributes of glory or status. Just a name carved into stone.

Riven’s eyes landed on it. He read the name slowly, almost reverently.

"...Your mother," he whispered.

"I like this place," Riven finally said as they walked.

"It was her favourite." Ronan stood silently by the grave, his eyes tracing the soft etchings of her name. He remembered her smile—gentle, unwavering, even on the worst days. His mother had lived in a gilded cage, married to a man who never raised a hand but broke her down with words sharp as knives. She was called weak, foolish, too soft to lead, yet she remained kind.

In a house ruled by ego and control, she had been the only warmth. She comforted Ronan with quiet strength.

Riven smiled faintly. "I can see why. It’s calm. And kind of hidden, like a secret garden."

Ronan nodded once, his jaw tense.

"She liked this place," Ronan finally said, voice low and quiet. "She used to come here whenever she needed peace. To breathe. To think."

Riven turned to look at him. Ronan wasn’t looking at the grave. He was staring past it—into memory, into some quiet corner of himself that very few people were allowed to see.

"She was strong," Ronan continued. "She had conviction. Even when my father refused to."

Riven said nothing. He knew Ronan didn’t often talk about his family. Especially not his parents. He had to fight against almost all of them to take his rightful place as the alpha.

"She wasn’t treated well," Ronan said, voice thick now. "My father—he was cruel. Not always with fists, but with words, with control. He married her because of her bloodline. But he resented her strength."

Riven’s hands curled at his sides. "I’m sorry," he said, the words soft but sincere.

"She used to tell me," Ronan went on, "that strength doesn’t come from dominance, that a true Alpha listens. Protects. Leads with respect, not fear."

He looked down at the gravestone.

"I used to think... That strength meant being unshakable. Unfeeling. That vulnerability was a weakness. That is until I met you. You are the perfect mate for me, and mother would be happy to see us like this."

"She believed in balance. In peace. She wouldn’t have wanted war, not like this. And I wonder what she would have been like if my father were not the way he was... If he were someone kinder and treated her with respect."

Riven looked down at the gravestone again. The wildflowers swayed gently, brushing the stone.

"Why did your father bury her here?" he asked after a beat. "It’s a beautiful place, but—"

"Out of fear," Ronan said. "Not love."

Riven’s brows furrowed.

"He didn’t want her honoured in the family cemetery. Said she didn’t ’submit’ enough to earn a place beside him. So he had her buried here, away from the clan grounds." Ronan’s tone was bitter, but steady. "He gave her a respectful burial here, afraid of the wrath of the Moon Goddess for mistreating his mate. He didn’t realise he was giving her exactly what she would have wanted. Peace. Freedom. A view she loved."

Riven felt something heavy settle in his chest. He glanced at Ronan, whose expression remained unreadable—but his eyes betrayed him. There was pain in there, buried beneath layers of pride and strength.

"Thank you," Riven said.

Ronan looked at him. "For what?"

"For bringing me here."

Riven stepped closer to the grave. He knelt down and plucked one of the wildflowers from nearby, placing it gently on the stone. "She’d be proud of you."

Ronan gave a faint smile. Not his usual stoic smirk or calculating grin—something gentler. Something rarer. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

As Riven stood again, he reached out and took Ronan’s hand.

"I see it," he said. "The kind of leader she wanted you to be. You’re already becoming him."

After taking down the elders and after the war, he finally had some time to visit his mother’s grave with the mate that the Moon Goddess gave him. He did not want to be his father, he almost did though... The way his father treated his mother and the way he treated Riven at the beginning... But as soon as realisation struck, he strived to be a better man. And he did.

"You know," Riven murmured, "you’re really warm."

"I’m always warm," Ronan replied. "You’re the one who’s always cold."

"I’m not cold," Riven argued, snuggling closer. "I just like being held."

"Then you’re in the right place."

Riven leaned in and kissed him properly. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—just soft, unhurried, the kind of kiss that said I’m happy. I feel safe. I’m glad it’s you. Ronan didn’t say anything in return, didn’t need to. His hand slid up to cradle the back of Riven’s neck, steady, sure, and when the kiss broke, he rested his forehead against Riven’s.

Riven smiled and whispered, "Thank you. For showing me this place. For coming when you did. For being here."

Ronan’s only response was to tighten his arms around him and pull him into a silent embrace.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺