Dew wakes up a few minutes before he's set to leave, so he just changes into some jeans and leaves the condo circa 6:56 AM, finding the driver waiting for him in the parking lot.

The ride to the castle is uneventful, and when the driver stops in the staff parking lot Marley is there waiting for them. He's standing by the entrance, and Dew makes his way over to him. The low morning sun casts long shadows on the pavement, and Dew yawns upon reaching the king.

"Good morning," Marley greets. Dew smiles at him, and the king holds the door open for him while they enter the castle. They both begin to make their way down the staff hallway, eventually reaching the staircase that leads to the second floor.

"Did you sleep well?"

Dew nods, and responds, "did you?" Marley replies with a hum, and the two reach the top of the stairs. They then make their way down a separate hallway. The two eventually arrive at a door that Dew recognizes as the room the two had gone to the last time he was here. This is Marley's office.

After they enter, Marley closes the door behind them before walking over to his desk. He begins sorting through several papers and files that are stacked up, and Dew takes a seat across from him. He wonders exactly how he's going to break this to Marley.

"Okay, so I was sorting through the basement files last night, when I came across this."

Marley takes a paper out of a folder and slides it closer. It doesn't take Dew long to recognize that it's a photo.

The picture is sort of grainy, but it doesn't take Dew long to recognize the person in it. Rowan kneels down, with a german shepherd beside him. This photo is clearly very old, but Rowan hardly looks any younger. Dew sees a little label on the back, which reads, Dog Handler Rowan Lux, USMC.

Oh shit. This is from a long fucking time ago.

"That photo was taken 172 years ago, only a few months before the war."

Dew raises his eyebrows, glancing up. 172 years ago. Sometimes Dew forgets that Rowan actually fought in the war that defined the world today.

"Okay, well—"

"I," Marley continues, "don't know about you, but this is a little disconcerting. So, I kept looking, and I found that aside from several photos from many different militaries, there aren't any records of Rowan's past. So, I kept searching, and I found this—"

Marley slides over a printed out news article, and Dew doesn't recognize the journalist name. He realizes why, though, when he spots in the fine print that this is American. America, which was one of the hundreds of countries that fell during the war.

Baby Found in Russian Woods, Currently Being Cared for by Married Couple

Dew glances at the picture, and finds a photo of a red haired child wrapped in blankets. He has really large irises, and it doesn't take Dew long to recognize that this is probably Rowan.

"The 'Russian Woods' that he was found in, weren't far from where you two went to look for the Origin." Marley finally pauses, and stares into Dew's eyes. "I really think it's possible that he's the Origin."

Dew sighs, averting his eyes as he gets his thoughts together. How should he word this?

"He is." Yeah, that'll do it.

Dew refuses to make eye contact with his king, staring at the desk instead. A few long moments of silence go by before Marley quietly responds;

"What?"

Dew holds his breath in anticipation, before finally looking into Marley's eyes. Marley, who appears unbelievably confused. His eyebrows are furrowed and he's staring at Dew with a very thoughtful look. Thankfully Dew isn't feeling any betrayal from him, the only emotion coming from Marley is confusion.Well fuck, here goes.

"I... I figured it out, a while ago. Rowan is the origin, and—I'm so sorry, Your Highness, for lying to you. It's just that Rowan told me there were people who wanted to kidnap and torture him and his soulmate and I had to keep it a secret."

Marley pulls out his desk chair and takes a seat, before folding his hands. He frowns at the desk, while Dew genuinely contemplates if he's about to get arrested.

Finally, Marley replies; "Tell me everything."

So, Dew does. Well, he tells him what he knows. There are still quite a few details that Rowan is keeping from him, so there are several things he doesn't have any answers for. He essentially starts from the beginning, when he first figured Rowan out. Honestly, the whole explanation doesn't take long, as there are many pieces of information that Dew still doesn't know.

When he's finished, though, Marley leans back in his chair and rubs the side of his head in thought. Dew just sits there, unsure of what to do, until Marley eventually responds.

"I... can keep this secret for the time being, but the public needs to know at some point. Preferably soon."

Dew nods in understanding. "I know. He just needs a while to figure some stuff out."

Marley hums, "in time, then," and Dew smiles politely back.

In time.

-

When Dew gets back to the condo, he just starts cleaning. The place is already near spotless, but he mops the kitchen floor and wipes off the counters. Then, he organizes the fridge and throws out all the expired stuff. After that his arms are a bit tired, so he walks over to the couch and flops down, picking up the remote and flipping through channels.

He eventually settles on a cartoon, and Spikes jumps up onto the sofa with him, curling up on the cushion to his left. Dew smiles at her, reaching over and rubbing her behind her ears.

Dew watches quite a bit of TV, stopping briefly to have lunch, and before long he hears the front door open. Dew immediately perks up, and gets to a standing position, before walking to the entryway. As expected, Rowan is standing there, taking off his boots. Dew doesn't waste time, immediately telling him about his meeting with Marley.

"Okay, so apparently Marley figured you out from a picture of you in the Marine Corps?" Dew begins, watching as Rowan glances up at him. He continues, "and also from some news article about Russia. Anyway, I told him that you were the Origin."

Rowan starts to make his way to his bedroom, and Dew follows him all the way. The man begins to strip his clothes, and Dew averts his eyes to stare at the bed, a blush forming on his cheeks. "Marley agreed to keep it secret, but only for the time being. He... Uh..."

Dew sort of trails off, mind going vacant for a moment as he stares at Rowan's abs, attention having left the piece of furniture at some point. When the man glances up at Dew's pause, though, he clears his throat and looks at the wall, ignoring how his face is even warmer now. "He wants to tell the public soon, though, so we should really sort out this whole soulmate torture thing."

Rowan finishes after a few moments and makes his way to the kitchen, Dew taking his seat at the counter. Rowan begins getting out all the things he needs to cook, then he asks, "and how exactly are we going to do that?"

Dew frowns, unsure of how to answer that. He folds his arms on the counter and rests his head on them, as he contemplates his answer. He honestly has no idea how to accomplish this. "I don't know, you didn't exactly tell me any details. I don't even know who your soulmate is."

Dew asks that question like every day, but whatever. He takes note that Rowan is now cooking some ground beef. This gives him the impression that the captain is probably making them nachos. Dew is honestly almost jealous at how good Rowan is at cooking. He wonders if he should ask him for some lessons. Dew can make burgers and fries. That's it.

"You don't need to know that." Is Rowan's response.

Dew rolls his eyes. "It would definitely help," he responds.

Rowan gets out two plates and puts some chips on them. Then, he starts to chop up the meat in the pan. Dew watches the captain's biceps flex as he does so, and again he's not sure if he should be happy or not that the man isn't wearing a shirt, since he's trying to have a conversation. Rowan is just the very definition of distracting.

Rowan turns away from his cooking, and Dew immediately shoots his eyes up so he's looking at the captain's face, instead of... other places.

"The only information you need is the fact that there are people who want to capture me, and you need to be very careful. Okay? Actually, that reminds me." Rowan reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his cell phone. He taps around on it, then walks over to Dew and holds it out.

"Put your number in there, I want you to tell me where you're going every time you leave the condo, and text me when you get there and when you leave. Also, go to my contact and set it to share your location with me, always."

Dew just stares at him, mouth agape, wondering if he's in a fever dream. Did-Did Rowan seriously just say that? That's the kind of stuff that a parent would demand of their child. Dew's almost 23 years old! He's a grown ass man!

"Uh, how about I'm actually not gonna do that?" Dew replies, taking the phone, and watching as Rowan's brows lower in irritation. "You're not my fucking dad."

He starts to put in his number anyway, naming his contact Dew without putting a last name. "I don't have to be your dad for you to listen to me." Rowan states, voice deeper than usual. He's clearly not in the mood for Dew's attitude.

"Even if you were my dad I wouldn't listen to you." Dew replies, handing Rowan his phone back and raising an eyebrow, smirking a bit and feeling like he's making this unnecessarily difficult. If only he cared.

That's mostly because Dew's father walked out on him when he was young, before his mother's show got really popular. So, if Dew ever met him in person, he'd probably just beat the shit out of the guy, no questions asked. Or, well, maybe ask Rowan to beat the shit out of him. Dew weighs like 150 pounds.

Rowan pockets his phone, turning around and going back to his cooking. He is visibly irritated with Dew's lack of cooperation, but Dew doesn't particularly care. Sorry, but Dew's mother neglected him right up until he attempted suicide, after that she basically had the entire staff of their house hovering over him. She herself did sometimes as well, and Dew wasn't particularly happy about that.

Dew is not going to deal with the kind of shit he had to after he tried to kill himself. He constantly had to tell his mom where he was and what he was doing and how he was feeling. That's why he moved out as soon as he hit 18.

Fuck that.