[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/SlYdiRw.png[/img] [sub]Collab between [@The Muse], [@Qia], & [@c3p-0h] Location: The Royal Home[/sub] [i][h1]Part III[/h1][/i][hr][/center] Beyond the threshold, Elara stood in rigid stillness, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the tension coiling through her frame like a vice. The steady, insistent drum of her heartbeat reverberated in her ears, a relentless cadence that refused to be silenced. Against her palm, she could still perceive the ghostly vestige of Amaya’s touch, a lingering warmth that once felt sacrosanct—now marred by the inescapable presence of the man within that room. The intimacy they had shared, once untainted and inviolate, now seemed eclipsed by an unwelcome reality, a fracture she could neither name nor ignore. [i]Not as a Princess but as you.[/i] They were meant to be reassuring, those words crafted to offer solace, a promise that Amaya had found a champion willing to stand unwavering by her side in ways Elara never could (at least in ways that were enough for Amaya). And yet, the words did not soothe; instead, they festered, hollow and discordant, resonating with a quiet devastation she dared not voice. The most lamentable aspect, however, lay in the irrefutable truth that Flynn’s assertions weren’t devoid of merit. His concern was well-placed and resonated with an almost palpable intensity. Amid her corporeal torment-an insistent throb in her ribs- and the smouldering ire roiling just beneath her skin, Elara discerned an undeniable reality: Amaya required Flynn’s presence as fervently as she herself craved companionship. And the sooner she accepted this, the better off she would be. She didn’t want to go back inside. Nonetheless, the moment came when… The door emitted a lamenting creak as Elara reentered the room. Her gaze found Amaya immediately, flickering briefly to the hand still resting on Flynn’s knee. Something passed through her expression before she quickly schooled it into neutrality. Amaya lifted her hand away from Flynn like a reflex. “[color=royalblue]I brought the water,[/color]” Elara announced, brandishing the pitcher she had ostensibly retrieved as a pretext to escape the overwhelming atmosphere. Flynn’s eyes briefly flickered to the empty spot on his knee, the sudden absence of Amaya’s warmth striking him more sharply than he’d expected. He glanced up toward her, noticing her gaze locked on Elara, before turning his attention to Elara himself. Tension thickened the air, suffocating in its weight. He wasn’t sure if it was Amaya’s magic, chilling the room, or his own selfishness that caused the shift—Elara’s interruption, the reason Amaya had pulled away. [color=337d71]“Thank you.”[/color] he said, straightening slightly and focusing his gaze on Elara. He wasn’t sure whether to address the tension that hung in the air or let it remain, but he was acutely aware of it. For now, he said nothing more, letting the moment stretch into awkward silence. Amaya’s nerves grew, pressing against the boundaries of her body. The quiet calm of the previous moment evaporated. Elara captured her focus — the still way she held herself, her carefully neutral expression, how she hadn’t approached beyond entering the room and now stood so very far away like she couldn’t close the distance. Amaya knew the words. They were thick and heavy in her throat. [color=d15e5e]“I shouldn’t have said that.”[/color] They were quiet, but they crossed the distance of the room, reaching for her only friend. Amaya held her breath, watching for any sign of forgiveness. [color=d15e5e]“I’m sorry.”[/color] It seemed she couldn’t stop apologizing to Elara today. Elara’s grip on the pitcher tightened, her knuckles blanching under the strain. A brittle silence stretched in response, but inside, her thoughts churned like a storm-tossed sea. Amaya’s apology was expected-inevitable even- but it did little to soothe the wound left by their earlier exchange. Did she even understand what she had done? Or was this just another attempt to smooth things over? Elara’s gaze drifted past Amaya to Flynn, sitting there as if he belonged-as if he had always belonged. The possessive way his presence filled the room, the quiet confidence with which he’d taken up space in Amaya’s life, gnawed at something deep within Elara that she couldn’t name. But no. She could now. Loss. Sucking in a measured breath, Elara finally advanced, setting the pitcher on the bedside table. Upon regaining her stance, her gaze reconnected with Amaya’s, and therein, she detected something that resurrected her melancholic longing anew. Guilt. And more alarmingly fear. Amaya feared losing her, and Elara knew it. But fear was not enough. Fear was never enough. And fear was never going to be enough. The words were there just the same, resting on the tip of her tongue-[i] I know, it’s alright, we’re alright[/i]- but they felt too much like surrender. Thus, her lips formed a muted line, and, after an oppressive pause, she inclined her head with the slightest gesture. “[color=royalblue]You should rest while Lady Hightower is still away,[/color]” she said at last, her voice offering neither forgiveness nor reproach, only a quiet suggestion wrapped in duty. Duty-because it was easier than facing what truly lay between them. Amaya felt the shift in the air. It was subtle – but undeniable. Her blood stilled in her veins as something she couldn’t name started to crawl its way through her. Elara’s detached tone fractured something inside her. Elara’s fingers brushed the periphery of the table and she hesitated a little before she retreated, reestablishing distance. “[color=royalblue]We’ll talk later,[/color]” she added, softer now, but with a finality that left little room for argument. Without waiting for Amaya’s reply, Elara turned her attention to Flynn, offering him the barest nod of acknowledgment-polite, distant, and a reminder that despite everything, her place in this room remained secondary to his. Her footsteps then ushered her to the window, where her gaze traversed the nocturnal expanse beyond, even as her mind remained detached from its landscape. Was it more painful that she hadn’t left the room? Amaya couldn’t tell. Elara’s rejection – because that’s what it’d been, a [i]rejection[/i] – created a new storm within her. It whipped up all her broken pieces, their razor edges tearing at her from the inside out, even as she tried to cling to Elara’s promise of talk. Her face was blank. She couldn’t move. The only changes were the slight tensing of her brow and the way her pupils grew and shrank, as she grappled with this new reality where Elara stood on the other side of the room, and she didn’t look at Amaya with love and gentleness. She wanted to go to her – to beg her forgiveness, to see the places she’d hurt Elara so she could make it right. But she was frozen in place. The blanket covering her legs was ledden. And Elara chose to stand apart from her, cold and beautiful as the winter, staring out the window. Suddenly she realized why it hurt so much, why it was [i]worse[/i] that Elara had remained: because without warmth, or concern, or even [i]anger[/i], there was nothing but cold obligation to keep her in this room. And for Amaya’s entire life, that was all she had ever known until Elara. Amaya’s breath escaped her in a tiny wisp, barely visible. The water began to freeze in the pitcher beside her. Flynn’s gaze shifted from Elara to Amaya, feeling the suffocating weight of unspoken words between them. The frozen detachment in Amaya’s eyes wasn’t entirely unfamiliar—it was a dissociation he had seen from her before, one that left him feeling helpless every time. Seeing it now tore at him, and a flicker of annoyance rose within him, directed at Elara for causing it in the first place. But this wasn’t the first time he’d seen a standoff like this. Memories of his sisters flashed in his mind—fiery arguments, wounded silences, and the inevitable mending that always followed. This felt uncomfortable, but familiar. He considered leaving, giving them the privacy they clearly needed. Staying might only make things worse. Nothing he said or did ever seemed to truly soothe Amaya—not really, not when it mattered most. The thought twisted viciously in his chest. He tried to shake off creeping doubt, reminding himself of the way she had melted into him—the way she looked at him. That proved his insecure thoughts were wrong... didn’t it? Uncertainty gnawed at him, but he clung to the memory, hoping it outweighed the fear that he was wrong. His sisters had always just needed time to cool off, but time wasn’t a luxury they had now. He briefly looked at the pitcher of water, ice crystals forming along the surface. No, they needed a push—space to bridge whatever divide had grown between them without his presence hovering nearby. Flynn leaned in closer to Amaya, his hand reaching for the one she had pulled away from him earlier. [color=337d71]“I’ll give you two a moment,”[/color] he said softly, his voice steady as he wrapped his warm fingers around hers. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it to his lips, pressing a gentle parting kiss against her skin. [color=337d71]“I’m going to check with the guards on the search status,”[/color] His gaze lingered on hers, holding a silent promise that he would return. Yet beneath that lay another unspoken question. Did she want him to stay? To leave? She gave nothing away, leaving him caught in a maddening uncertainty that was both frustrating and, in some strange way, exhilarating. Slowly, he released her hand and rose to his feet, gathering his boots and slipping them on. His coat and sword still rested at the edge of the bed, waiting where he had left them. Flynn strapped the blade to his waist and shrugged his coat over his shoulders. For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes flicking to Elara where she stood by the window, her back to them both. She remained distant, unmoving. Finally, Flynn turned back to Amaya, his gaze lingering on her one last time before he stepped toward the door. [color=337d71]“I won’t be long,”[/color] he said quietly as he opened the door. He could only hope he’d made the right choice—that giving them this moment would allow them to mend whatever rift had grown. Still, he intended to make it quick, if only for fear that Amaya would cover the entire room in ice by the time he returned.