[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZPETHbP.png[/img]
Collab between [@The Muse] and [@c3p-0h]
[sub][b][h3]Previous Day[/h3][/b] 
Sometime around 1am | Location: The Royal Home[/sub]
[i][h1]Part I[/h1][/i]
[hr][/center]

Flynn descended the stairs slowly, every step heavily weighted with exhaustion. The long day clung to him, visible in the disheveled way he carried himself—his coat discarded, blond hair an unkempt mess, clothes wrinkled and untucked. The absence of his coat left a chill at his back, but he hardly noticed anymore.  

He couldn’t sleep, so he’d come downstairs for tea. Something warm, something familiar. Perhaps a book or a round of cards with one of the guards. A small comfort, though he wasn’t sure if it would bring him much solace anymore.

Reaching the bottom step, he stilled.  

Across the hall, Amaya sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, her figure illuminated in flickering gold. Shadows stretched long across the floor, her face cast in shifting light and dark, unreadable, yet pensive. Alone.  

Slowly, as if moving too quickly might shatter the delicate atmosphere of the room, he stepped forward. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorframe and took her in. For a few heartbeats, he simply let the quiet settle. The crackle of the fire the only sound between them.

Then, softly, he asked, [color=337d71]“How’re you feeling?”[/color]

The words hung between them in the open air. Amaya felt them, like snowflakes fluttering back into place after being disturbed by an errant breeze. 

All that time listening to him move about the house, and she hadn’t thought of how she would… [i]be[/i] with him, when he inevitably found her. If she would try to distance herself again. If she would… well, she didn’t know. There had only ever been one way for her to be with Flynn, and in the span of a single day it had been rendered impossible. 

And so she’d sat there, bundled in a blanket, legs curled under her body, her hair loose, and her face bare. He’d never seen her like this — Amaya had made certain of it. But whatever nervousness or embarrassment she might’ve felt was muted beneath the weight of the day. She counted her failures like they were the logs feeding the fire, filling the hearth with ash and smoke. Sir Abel, dead by her foolishness. Elara, heartbroken and vulnerable by her selfishness. Ranni, terrified by her paranoia. Amaya had watched the flames dance as she listened to him close the distance. 

[color=d15e5e]“As you’d expect.”[/color] An answer that was not an answer. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth, and he would see through a lie. Her words wove between the crackling of the fire, the muffled rattle of the wind, soft enough that they might’ve just been another feature of the winter landscape. 

[color=d15e5e]“The healers are quite competent.”[/color] It was a weak deflection — but at least it was honest. She’d even allowed them to close the wound on her arm after they’d finished clearing her blood. It felt selfish. Ranni and Lady Hightower had been exhausted with the work of detoxifying her, and it seemed wasteful to tire them more to heal a simple cut. But she’d kept her protests to herself, Elara’s anger ringing in her ears. She’d watched Ranni, withdrawn and ashamed, knit her skin back together until it was smooth. 

Amaya could taste the smoke in the air as she took in a slow breath. 

Finally, she turned to look at Flynn. For a heartbeat — two, three — he was the only thing in the world. He was messy and unpolished, exhaustion draped around him as heavy as a cloak. The shadows played tricks, deepening the lines in his face and making him look older than he was. It was stunning to realize he was unguarded — that he had a guard to hide behind, at all. Amaya had always thought him too open, too careless with what he let others see, but this…

This was a man who carried the weight of the sunrise on his back. He’d stood against both their kingdoms and clergies, willed this community into existence, and would likely drag the sun up from the depths of the ocean himself, if that’s what it took. 

How had it taken Amaya this long to realize that it was killing him?

He was watching her, attentive and patient as ever. The firelight in his green eyes caught like dawn against sea glass. Something soft flickered over her face, but she looked away before it could overwhelm her. Her fingers curled around the edge of the spare blanket she’d pulled from her room. Instinct told her to retreat. 

[color=d15e5e]“Though sleep seems difficult to come by tonight,”[/color] she murmured instead. It was an offering — a subtle connection, even as Amaya kept her eyes trained on the fire. He wasn’t alone with this struggle at least, as small as it was. 

Flynn nodded in agreement, the silence stretching between them as he searched for the right words. There were still so many things he needed to say—so many things she needed to know, despite everything that had already happened. 

Running a hand through his unruly hair, he pushed off the doorframe and he stepped further into the room. [color=337d71]"Amaya, I—"[/color] The words caught in his throat. He hesitated for a moment, then, rather than taking the armchair across from her, he sat down at the other end of the couch. Not too close—he wouldn't push her—but close enough that the space between them didn’t feel like a chasm.

For a few breaths he fell silent, his gaze flickering to the fire as if the right thing to say might be waiting for him there. Then, finally, he turned to her again, his eyes full of quiet regret. [color=337d71]“I’m sorry for leaving you today. I thought, with the—”[/color] He stopped himself, lips pressing into a thin line, not wanting to offer her any excuses. This was his mistake to bear. [color=337d71]“I shouldn’t have.”[/color]

Something small and ugly in Amaya wanted to snap at him. He [i]shouldn’t[/i] have left her. He’d —

But she swallowed the thoughts down. 

[color=d15e5e]“It wasn’t your fault,”[/color] she reminded both of them. Flynn’s voice was the same as it’d always been whenever he’d tried to talk to her. Sad. Cautious. Soft in a way that used to spark an anger so frigid she’d thought she’d turn the walls of their home to ice. But now Amaya listened with new ears, fresh shame filling her. She heard him trying to place another weight on his own back. To think, she’d spent two months punishing him for it. [color=d15e5e]“I made a reckless choice. You don’t get to carry that.”[/color]

For a moment, Flynn didn’t respond. He didn’t agree with her, he never would, but he knew better than to argue. He would carry his choices with him wherever he went—whether she allowed it or not. 

His gaze drifted back to the fire, recalling every misstep of the day—beginning with the moment he’d left her alone. 

[color=337d71]“I went to talk to the Aurelian High Priestess. I should have asked you to join me.”[/color] He admitted, the memory of Tia’s nervous face flashing in his mind. [color=337d71]“The Sage… she found something. One of the blight-born has blood that reacts to light magic—like a compass, pointing to blight.”[/color] His voice was flat, distant. The discovery had held some semblance of hope for him earlier, but he no longer felt the same spark. The weight of everything that had followed had dulled its significance. 

His words landed with a shock that rippled through her, though she sat motionless beneath the blanket. Amaya heard the shift in his voice. There was a formality to it that caught her off guard — a bluntness and clarity that was almost businesslike. Her eyes unfocused as she listened, her mind quickening. 

[color=337d71]“She told me the High Priestess gave her a clue to look into this blight-born’s blood, but didn’t know why. Or how she knew.”[/color] He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple before letting his hand fall away. [color=337d71]“So I went to ask her.”[/color]

And he hadn’t thought to include Amaya. 

His jaw tensed. [color=337d71]“I made the mistake of not asking you to be involved, but I…”[/color] he trailed off, looking back at her now. She met his gaze, her eyes wide and bright. He was still learning how to be a partner, how to move alongside her rather than forging a path all his own. But today it had nearly cost him more than he could bear. 

[color=337d71]“It won’t happen again.”[/color] 

Amaya could only stare, trying to fit the pieces into place. The blood. The explanation, delivered clearly and without reservation. The way he looked at her, filled with a different sort of intensity — the same way she’d seen him look at Lord Nightingale or Lady Hightower, voices quick and weighted as they decided their next course of action. 

[i]He wanted her involved.[/i]

Amaya looked away, her heartbeat quick. She found the fire again, devouring blackened logs. Thoughts rushed in. She’d been reminded her entire life that she was locked out and unwelcome, forced to create her own winding paths and hidden entrances, and now… he was simply opening the front door. He expected her to walk through, but in her shock she’d forgotten how to move. And then of course there was the doubt. The fear. She would disappoint him. Worse, she would [i]ruin[/i] him, and all his noble plans. Today was proof of that. 

She shook her head. [color=d15e5e]“Flynn…”[/color] But Amaya’s protests died on her tongue as she met his gaze again. His shoulders were square, for all that they carried. His eyes were tired and too old, but there was no hesitation when he looked at her — no doubt that she could put one foot in front of the other and walk through the door he’d opened. She thought suddenly of kissing him.

The silence stretched. The night only grew longer.

[color=d15e5e]“Was it a mistake?”[/color] The question was frail where it sat between them. [color=d15e5e]“I take a step and disaster follows. That’s not something you can afford, Flynn. Not when you’re finally making progress.”[/color]

[color=337d71]"It was a mistake."[/color]

Flynn didn’t hesitate. The words left his mouth simply, matter-of-factly, as if there could be no other answer. Because there wasn’t. The very question was painful to hear. Of course it was a mistake. What he couldn't afford was to lose her.  

The memory of the fear he'd felt, thinking she might have been dead... it hadn't left him. It sat at the edges of his mind, a shadow that had lingered ever since he’d found her unconscious on Elara’s floor. He exhaled, leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees as he looked at the wooden floorboards beneath them. His hair fell into his face, and he idly rubbed his tired, cold hands together in thought.  

[color=337d71]"You know,"[/color] he started, his voice quieter now, [color=337d71]"when I first sought to marry you, it was out of desperation. To buy us time."[/color] He shook his head slightly. [color=337d71]"I had no idea how to be a partner. I’m sure I still don’t."[/color] He huffed a humorless breath, his hands stilling. [color=337d71]"But..."[/color] 

His voice trailed off, eyes shifting to her, something searching in his gaze. [color=337d71]"You see things that I don’t. You know things I can’t begin to perceive."[/color] His brows knit slightly as he gestured toward upstairs. [color=337d71]"You sensed the psychic magic Ranni was using when I hadn’t sensed it at all."[/color]

He straightened then, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. [color=337d71]"It’s like before. At our wedding. You observe. You can see things in my blind spots.”[/color]

Flynn leaned back against the couch, meeting her gaze and holding it. [color=337d71]"For all our differences, I think we complement each other well. The way partners should."[/color] The smile lingered, but there was something more in his eyes now, something steady and sure. [color=337d71]“I want you here, Amaya. With me. Beside me.”[/color]

His expression faded into something more solemn. [color=337d71]“I wish it hadn’t taken something so extreme for me to realize it, but…”[/color] His eyes flickered to her lips before finding those pale, ice-blue eyes once more. [color=337d71]“I need you. In more ways than I had allowed myself to feel.”[/color]

He paused, letting the words settle between them. Then, after a moment, he added, [color=337d71]“The progress being made is [i]our[/i] progress. And I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel like you’re part of this, too.”[/color]

For a beat, he hesitated. Then, slowly, he extended a hand toward her, palm up, open. An offering, an invitation. 

[color=337d71]“Amaya,”[/color] A hint of a smile returned. [color=337d71]“Would you like to be my partner?”[/color] His gaze softened, though there was a glint of something playful behind his eyes. [color=337d71]“My Queen?”[/color]

His words wrapped around her, warmer than any blanket. Amaya stared at his open hand, and all it signified. Beneath her skin, in her chest, along her spine, energy crackled like the fire. And when she looked back up to Flynn and met his dancing eyes, Amaya thought — no. She didn’t think. She was tired of living in her head. 

In the span of a heartbeat, Amaya pushed herself towards her husband, closing the careful distance he’d left between them. She brushed his hand aside and moved past it. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, pooling carelessly on the couch, and she was left with only her sleeping gown to ward off the chill. It didn’t matter. 

Amaya kissed him and set herself aflame. 

She didn’t know how to describe the feeling that coursed through her — what would a painting feel, if it was removed from its frame and became the landscape once more? What would it say to the first traveler to explore it after a lifetime of incurious stares and cold dismissal? Amaya was a forest coming back to life, pouring herself into him. 

[i]You see it,[/i] the landscape would whisper. [i]I was not meant for stillness and silence.[/i]

The feel of his skin was familiar as she held the sides of his face — unmanaged scruff along the hard angle of his jaw, curving cheekbones, [i]warmth[/i]. He pulled her closer, hungry in a way that stole her breath. It sent her nerves into a frenzy, and she knew it should’ve been terrifying. Instead, she drank him in, savoring the way he commanded her attention. 

When she finally pulled away from him, she was breathless. Her lips tingled, sending sparks of electricity through her body. She stayed there, eyes still closed, and let the sound and smell and touch of him wash over her. 

Her eyes fluttered open. They found his immediately, his pupils blown wide, his ocean green made deep and fathomless. Up on her knees, she was taller than him for once. She took in this new angle of his face, tilted up to look at her. Then Amaya pressed a kiss to his forehead, tender as a blooming flower.

Partner. [i]Queen.[/i] She was inexperienced, and ignorant of the world. But if he was beside her, maybe she could learn. Maybe they could step forward, and keep each other from falling. Her thumb brushed softly over the shadow beneath his eye. 

[color=d15e5e]“Tell me what you learned from the High Priestess.”[/color]