[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 II[/h1][/i] [hr][/center] Flynn’s breath was unsteady, his pulse thrumming in his ears as he looked up at Amaya, bathed in firelight, eyes sharp as ice and warm as embers all at once. One hand rested on her hip, his body angled into the couch, drawn into her intensity. He leaned into her touch, savoring this new sensation—being held by her, [i]pursued[/i] by her. A hunger stirred deep in his chest. He wanted more. Needed more. He didn’t want to talk about the High Priestess. He didn’t want to talk at all. The only thing he could think about was her—her lips pressed against his, the way she had pushed past hesitation and thrown herself into him. He wanted to pull her closer, to feel the warmth of her against him, to lose himself in this fire she had set. With slow, gentle care, his free hand curled around her right hand, gently peeling it away from his face. He planted a kiss on her palm, then her wrist, his lips trailing slow, deliberate touches along her forearm as he considered his next words. Her voice had left no room for argument, yet he found himself delaying, as if each kiss was an unspoken plea to stay in this moment with him just a little longer. But she had told him to speak, not asked. Demanded it. And in this moment, he was certain he’d do just about anything she commanded. His grip on her waist shifted lower, fingers pressing into the curve of her body. And then, in one smooth motion, as if she weighed nothing at all, he pulled her into his lap, settling her against him. A surprised sound escaped her, briefly dissolving into an airy laugh. Her arm, the one he had been kissing, now rested over his shoulder, and his hands found their place at her hips. He looked up at her, his eyes dark beneath her shadow. [color=337d71]"Can you keep a secret?"[/color] His voice was low, a whisper in her ear, barely rising over the crackle of the fire. Something flickered in her eyes as she tried to hide a shiver. She arched a dark eyebrow. He was aware, distantly, that her guard was somewhere in the house, likely within earshot if they were careless. He didn’t want to keep things from her, but certain things would have to stay between them and only them. Though, right now, all he wanted was for nothing to be between them at all. [color=d15e5e]“From everyone but you, it seems,”[/color] she muttered, matching his volume. But her hand was soft as it drifted down from his cheek to the side of his neck. The accusation didn’t stick. Flynn smirked, unable to hide his satisfaction at her answer. He held her gaze, letting the moment stretch as he tried to ground himself back down to reality—tried to focus on anything but the way she fit against him. He was broad and solid beneath her, his hands burning through the fabric of her dress. Amaya was… not [i]nervous,[/i] per se. But aware. The intensity of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the rough edge to his voice. Her weight on top of him, her many layers shed, the few that still remained between them. She catalogued all of it, her attention pulled in countless directions, all of them leading back to [i]Flynn.[/i] His mind drifted to Tia—the way he’d cornered her with questions, demanded answers she had been reluctant to give. No wonder she had vanished when he’d needed her. His smirk faded, the amusement in his eyes slowly dimming. [color=337d71]“The High Priestess saw it in a dream.”[/color] His gaze flickered away, jaw tensing briefly before adding, [color=337d71]“She’s a seer… I think.”[/color] He shook his head slightly, uncertainty evident. [color=337d71]“She doesn’t seem to trust her dreams as visions.”[/color] He met her eyes once more. [color=337d71]“But she saw the path to Lady Hightower’s discovery.”[/color] Amaya was still as she tried to process this new information, emotions flickering across her face. A [i]seer.[/i] It was an exceedingly rare gift. Valuable. Powerful, both magically and politically. Aurelian Priests and their [i]dreams[/i] had gotten them to this mess in the first place. And they’d sent one to Dawnhaven? Why had she tried to hide behind clues and the Sage instead of ingratiating herself with Flynn? That she didn’t trust her own visions was another point of confusion — Amaya had never known a member of the clergy to admit they were uncertain of anything. They posed themselves as a font of guidance and answers. Doubt was poison in a church. Then again, the Sun faith seemed vastly different from what she was used to. Ranni flashed in her mind, nervous and trembling and [i]blight-born[/i]. She would’ve been stripped of her station before the first meek apology escaped her in Lunaris. Amaya’s eyes drifted, her thoughts racing. Questions clamored for the open air. [color=d15e5e]“What do you make of her?”[/color] she asked, refocusing on Flynn. He’d met her. He knew his clergy better. Amaya didn’t have all the pieces yet. Flynn’s fingers toyed absentmindedly with the thin fabric of her gown, feeling its softness between his thumb and index finger. His mouth tightened as he gave a small shake of his head. Finally, he admitted aloud, [color=337d71]“The Arch Priest can’t be trusted… [i]I[/i] don’t trust him.”[/color] The weight of saying it felt oddly freeing, but it was followed by a sigh as his gaze traced the curve of her shoulder. [color=337d71]“I don’t know if she can be trusted yet, either.”[/color] He pulled his eyes back to hers before they could wander any further. [color=337d71]“She shows more kindness than I’ve seen in the Citadel, but I… I don’t know yet. We’ll need to keep a close eye on her.”[/color] He considered pulling her in closer, letting the conversation end there and dissolve into something else entirely. But there was still more. Always more. He shifted slightly beneath her, settling more comfortably against the back of the couch before speaking again. [color=337d71]“Regardless, Lady Hightower’s discovery needs to be taken to the blight and tested.”[/color] His hands instinctively tightened on her hips, a subtle, unconscious protest against the very thing he had laid out in his mind earlier that day. He had planned to lead the voyage himself, but that idea felt like it had formed a lifetime ago. Before she had been attacked. Before the world had irreversibly shifted beneath his feet. [color=337d71]“We’d need to send her and a few of the Sages out there to do it. With protection. A small force, nothing that will draw too much attention, but enough to keep them safe.”[/color] His focus remained on her face, watching for any shift in expression. [color=337d71]“I can ask Orion to lead the expedition in my stead.”[/color] Reaching up, he tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear. [color=337d71]“What do you think?”[/color] Amaya’s free hand, the one still hanging over his shoulder and out of sight, curled into a loose fist as she caught his words. [color=d15e5e]“You intended to lead it.”[/color] And he didn’t anymore. Amaya’s voice was carefully neutral, her expression quiet. Flynn nodded, his hand finding its way back to her hip as he lost himself in the steady way she looked at him. [color=337d71]“I’ve rethought it.”[/color] he said, quietly. [color=337d71]“My time is better spent here.”[/color] Words formed on the tip of her tongue, her eyebrows drawing together slightly. He’d changed his plans because of [i]her.[/i] He shouldn’t have needed to. But beneath her displeasure and tired shame, Amaya couldn’t help but feel grateful. Warm, despite the chill. So she didn’t push. Amaya sighed, her expression melting into something thoughtful as she watched him. Then she leaned into his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around her as she nestled into him. Her head rested along the slope of his shoulder as her arms curved loosely around the back of his neck. She lay there, feeling his breath rise and fall like the tide. [color=d15e5e]“Then he seems the logical choice. If this discovery stems from the church and they’re not trustworthy, then there’s no telling what it leads to.”[/color] She was silently relieved he wouldn’t go — even without the blight poisoning the land and all the political and divine intrigue, the wilderness had never been easy to survive. [color=d15e5e]“You’ll want people familiar with the Lunarian wilds, too. More have died from the cold than the blight.”[/color] Flynn rested his head against hers, his eyes trailing the length of her back as he listened. She was right. [color=337d71]“Do you have anyone particular in mind?”[/color] he asked, his gaze flicking to a nearby window. Large snowflakes were gathering against the glass, a sight that might have sent a shiver down his back, had he not been comfortably warm beneath her. But he dreaded the thought of sending men and women out into the cold—the ill-equipped Aurelians especially. [color=337d71]“I plan to talk to both Commanders tomorrow, if you’d like to join me,”[/color] he continued, his voice still quiet. [color=337d71]“I need to make it clear that they have to work together while they’re here in Dawnhaven. We can ask Commander Volkov for specific people to volunteer, too. He should know who is best to handle the terrain.”[/color] Amaya tried to remind herself that this wasn’t a trap. He wasn’t giving her a test she was meant to fail. He asked for her opinion, invited her to discussions, because he thought she might contribute — even if Amaya didn’t know [i]how.[/i] She bent her arms a little tighter around him. [color=d15e5e]“All the guards I know are from the palace.”[/color] It was a whisper — too soft and vulnerable for the innocuous words. But throughout her life, guards had meant her father. Kind, or competent, or intelligent… whatever their merits, they had been above all, obedient to the crown. Sir Abel flashed in her mind again, as she’d known him — cold and distant, at the periphery of some of her worst memories. [color=d15e5e]“You spoke to a blight-born, once,”[/color] she said, hiding behind the change in topic. [color=d15e5e]“He was from one of the wild tribes. No one knows the forests better than them.”[/color] And they were independent, disconnected from the palace’s influence. Amaya remembered his booming voice, the way his laugh had pierced through the walls. [color=d15e5e]“And he has less to fear from the blight.”[/color] [color=337d71]"Ivor,"[/color] he said, recognizing the blight-born she was talking about. [color=337d71]"Good idea."[/color] Something bright bloomed in Amaya’s chest at his approval. He closed his eyes, letting silence stretch between them. He was utterly exhausted, but for the moment, it felt like the world outside this room didn’t exist. Her heartbeat pulsed softly against his chest, like a dance in time with his own, and he breathed in the warm, subtle undertones of her perfume. He could have fallen asleep here, with her. But his mind did as it so often did. Drifting, cataloging the day’s events. Eventually, an unwelcome image surfaced—Nyla. Standing in the cold outside the tavern, looking up at him with her own blue eyes full of sorrow and regret. The memory hit him harder than he wanted to admit, a sharp pang that lanced through his chest and made his heart miss a beat in their dance. He opened his eyes, grounding himself in the soft feel of all Amaya’s curves against him. Forcing himself to focus on the fire crackling across the room, he tried to chase away the guilt gnawing at him. Quietly, he grappled with whether or not he should say something—confess and risk unraveling the bond they'd only just begun to build. Desperately, he wanted to protect it. Their connection still felt so fragile—like one wrong move could shatter it and Amaya would cast him back out into the cold. Something in him had shifted today. He craved what she so scarcely offered out. He’d been bathed in that rare, precious warmth that she held, and the thought of being out from under it again terrified him. Yet, he knew keeping secrets could rot people from the inside out. He’d seen it in his father, in his mother—how lies and hidden truths poisoned everything they touched. He didn’t want that for them. Didn’t want to start their partnership on ground riddled with hidden pitfalls. [color=337d71]"Amaya..."[/color] he breathed, his voice low and hesitant. He glanced down at her, resting against him, her head turned away on his shoulder. Nerves coiled tight in his stomach. He wanted her to look at him, but at the same time, he didn’t. Maybe it would be easier not to see the inevitable shift in her eyes that threatened to slam a wall of ice between them. [color=337d71]"There's something else you should know, too..."[/color] The words felt heavy, almost suffocating, but he made himself say them. He wanted to be brave enough to risk it—to be honest with her, even if it cost him the warmth he'd fought past endless barriers for.