[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 III[/h1][/i]
[hr][/center]

Amaya heard the change in his voice, rumbling beneath her. Nerves. Caution. It prickled down her spine like a warning. For a moment the weight of his arms around her back, holding her to him, felt paralyzing. Her eyes opened — she didn’t know when they’d drifted shut. 

It took her too long to remember how to move. Flynn was silent, seemingly waiting for her to be ready to take the next step forward. Her arms slid down until her hands found his shoulders, and Amaya pushed herself away from his chest. It wasn’t much. Just enough for her to look at his face, the firelight painting dancing shadows. She wanted to raise her hand and smooth the tension from his brow. Instead, she waited. 

Flynn’s hands shifted along the subtle curve of her waist, settling on her hips again as she pulled away. Her warmth that had seeped into him faded, and he couldn’t help but feel regret twisting through his gut, telling him to just drop it—to pull her back against him and pretend none of it existed. But he’d already started down this path, so he took a breath, and let the words spill out. 

[color=337d71]“Before all this... before the prophecy, I... I had a girlfriend, of sorts.”[/color] His lips tightened as memories played out in his mind—long nights filled with easy laughter, flirtatious teasing and reckless adventures. They had never thought to label themselves. They had just been together, and knew it without needing to say it. [color=337d71]“Her name is Nyla.”[/color]

The name felt foreign on his tongue now—a reminder of a life he barely recognized anymore. A name that had once held so much meaning to the person that he no longer was. It was strange, saying it aloud to Amaya, his wife, who had been threading herself into his heart without him even noticing. 

[color=337d71]“And she’s… she’s here.”[/color] He looked at her, trying to read her expression. But it had locked in place. His fingertips were tense against her hips, bracing himself for her to pull away completely and turn to ice—for the air between them to grow cold and hostile. 

[color=337d71]“I saw her at the tavern this morning.”[/color] He continued, forcing the next words out. [color=337d71]“She’s also... turned.”[/color] The words stung. It hurt to picture her that way, succumbing to the blight and facing a slow, agonizing death. [color=337d71]“I think that’s why she came here.”[/color]

The truth hung between them like a drawn blade, and Flynn couldn’t help but feel like it was pointed right at his chest. 

Thoughts swirled in Amaya’s mind, chaotic and numerous as snowflakes in a blizzard. They blurred together, impossible to grasp. They left Amaya numb. 

Better numb than hurt. Or angry. Or foolish. Or relieved, or jealous, or embarrassed, or [i]alone[/i], or —

[i][color=royalblue]I need to know if you want me here because you need me, or because you want me.[/color][/i]

The memory of Elara’s words slammed into her with shattering force. It consumed her, burying her in frost. [i]She still didn’t know the answer.[/i] Amaya was too small and poorly developed to know the difference, always too desperate for any warmth offered her.

It had cost her everything. 

It felt like a terrible prelude now. Flynn watched her with fear in his eyes and it sent a jolt of pain through her. This woman… he expected his affection for her to be taken as a betrayal. He saw Amaya more clearly than most. Could he feel it? The way her frail, sickly heart clung to him so desperately? So suddenly? She’d [i]thrown[/i] herself at him today. Embarrassment flooded her at the memories, the way she still sat on his lap damning. How long would it take Amaya to turn his compassion into grief, as she’d done to Elara? Or something even worse?

A small, bitter voice told her that at least it would be familiar. She had a lifetime of practice being an unwelcome obligation. Amaya was suddenly so cold that she expected to find ice crawling along her skin. But her magic was silent, too drained from the chaos of the day. No, a different sort of spell froze her now.

Retreating into herself was instinctual. Amaya tried to fold away her heart, but it didn’t seem to fit in its little hidden box anymore. It was a long time before she trusted herself to speak. 

[color=d15e5e]“I don’t begrudge you your happiness, Flynn.”[/color] Her voice was flat, emotionless in the way she’d spent years perfecting. His body beneath her, around her, suddenly felt stained under her touch. But she couldn’t move. [color=d15e5e]“I wouldn’t keep you from it.”[/color] Amaya tried to make the words true, even if they were too fragile and glasslike, slicing at her throat. 

Flynn stared at her, caught off guard and unsure of what to do with that kind of answer. He found himself searching her eyes, trying to make sense of the emptiness in her voice. He had braced himself for pushback, for anger—something he had weathered countless times before. He’d prepared himself to shoulder the weight of her resentment and fight through her barriers all over again, if it came to that. Though it would have crushed him, at least he would have known where to place it. 

This emotionless acceptance left him feeling off balance. A sharp ache pierced his heart, and suddenly, he realized that her offer was far from what he wanted. He had wanted her to fight. To give him anything but cold detachment.

A month ago—maybe longer—he might have been happy with this. Resigned himself to a marriage of frigid obligation while seeking comfort in the arms of another. But everything had changed. He wasn't the same person anymore. The way he saw her now could never be undone. 

Flynn didn't know when it had happened, but he'd become utterly intoxicated by her. He hadn't lied. He needed her—wanted her—in ways that felt different from all the rest. 

Nyla wasn't in his future. His future was right here, sitting in his lap, more bare and vulnerable than she'd ever allowed him to see before. And he couldn't imagine anything more beautiful. 

Yet, he didn’t know what to say. Words failed him, slipping through his grasp like sand. All he knew was the suffocating sense of her slipping away from him, and he couldn’t bear it. 

A few heartbeats passed as he stared at her, trying to gather his thoughts, but all he could think was—

His hands slid up the small of her back, drawing her closer, and before he could think twice, his lips found hers—gentle, cautious, slow—testing the waters of their fragile connection. He pulled away, lips hovering above hers for a moment before his hand cradled the back of her head and pulled her into him again. 

His face rested in the nape of her neck, and he pressed a kiss to her skin, his breath warm against her shoulder. [color=337d71]“My happiness is here,”[/color] he whispered, fingers gently curling into her hair. 

Amaya let out a shaking breath, sparks rippling across the sensitive skin of her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed. His words twisted around her heart, sending another pang through her.

She remembered the sound of his voice when he’d said he was [i]hers[/i]. Somehow, she knew he believed it – or at least he wanted to. He’d held her close because she’d needed it. He’d smiled at her because he was determined to [i]find[/i] happiness here, every other door closed to him. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Amaya wasn’t his only choice, like she was for so many others. It was almost a relief.

[color=d15e5e]“Your duty is here,”[/color] she corrected. Her voice wasn’t as steady as it should’ve been. Every warm breath that ghosted along her skin, the feel of his fingers burrowed in her hair, brushing her scalp, made it more and more difficult to hide herself away as sensations danced through her. [color=d15e5e]“You can convince yourself they’re the same thing –”[/color] 

Her words caught as Flynn pressed another gentle kiss further down her neck. His eyes flicked upward, unfocused and dark, listening as she tried to push him away again. Amaya’s hands tensed on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. She tried to convince herself he couldn’t feel her fluttering pulse against his lips. When she found her voice again, it was soft and too breathy.

[color=d15e5e]“But not forever.”[/color] 

It was like Amaya could reach into the future and feel the spaces he now warmed turning cold and icy. She could hear his voice, detached and distant – or worse, disdainful like her father’s. 

Just this morning Elara had been a source of warmth too, tied to Amaya by obligation and compassion. They’d found rare happiness together in the cold halls of the palace. What had she [i]done[/i] to ruin it so? How long until she did it to Flynn, too?

Her thoughts were too unfocused to search for her own mistakes, split between the need to preempt disaster, and the distraction of Flynn and all the places she felt him against her. This was her problem – she too easily entangled herself with those who didn’t have a choice, was too greedy with what sparse affection she could find, and then –

It hurt too much to lose. 

[color=d15e5e]“I –”[/color] 

[color=337d71]“Stop talking.”[/color] The words came out swiftly, rough and hushed—an order whispered against her ear as he lifted his head, his fingers tangling deeper into her hair. The tone in his voice was unequivocally more dominant than he’d ever dared to use with her before, but it held no anger. He’d spent too long walking on eggshells, uncertain and afraid of pushing too far or making her unhappy. But right now, he wasn’t uncertain—he knew exactly what he wanted. Underneath her, craving every piece of her that she kept guarded, he’d felt something in him click into place. Nothing she said or did could make him unfeel it. 

Before she could protest, he kissed her again—deeper this time, with a certainty that bordered on possessive. His hand tightened on her waist, fingertips curling into the fabric of her nightgown, as if holding her closer could somehow keep her from slipping away. 

Amaya was soft and pliant against the force of him. The insistent way he pressed her close, every movement a command rather than a question, left her unmoored and undone. Flynn was the only stability she had. Her hands slid over his shoulders, one curving around the back of his neck, the other bracing against his chest, as he pulled a soft sound from her.

When he parted from her, his lips just a breath from hers, his gaze settled on the softness of her mouth.

[color=337d71]“Stop trying to push me out,”[/color] he murmured, his voice low and steady. [color=337d71]“I want this.”[/color] He felt something buzzing beneath his skin—electric and nervous all at once—making his heart race. [color=337d71]“I want you.”[/color] His gaze finally met hers, searching for understanding, willing her to see just how much he meant it. [color=337d71]“Only you.”[/color] 

He stayed like that for a moment, just looking at her, as if the world had slowed to let him catch up with his own heart. His hand slipped from her hair, tracing along her jaw, his thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek. Realization crept over him like the first light of dawn, soft and inevitable. He’d thawed past her ice, and for him, there was no going back. He’d never be the same again. Whatever he felt for her had rooted deep into his chest.

[color=337d71]“Forever.”[/color]

Amaya’s heart lurched towards him, even as she tried to hold it in place. His certainty was overwhelming. His gaze was filled with a heat so intense, Amaya thought it might burn her if she held it too long. 

She could retreat. As unyielding as Flynn was now, she didn’t think he’d stop her from pulling her hands away, from escaping his touch and leaving the room. The conversation wouldn’t be over – he wouldn’t allow [i]that[/i] – but she would have a reprieve. She could rest, and clear her mind, and…

Her head tilted the slightest bit, leaning into the gentle touch against her cheek. She hadn’t meant to. Distantly, she saw herself – falling into him, pulling him around her, only to remember herself each time and scramble for reasons and justifications and [i]excuses[/i] to shut him out again. What he’d told her about Nyla didn’t matter, not really. Nor did the open wound of Elara’s absence. No, the only things that mattered were the way he held her and how desperately she didn’t want him to let go. The terror of falling, even when Flynn asked her to trust that he would catch her.

But Amaya had only ever known how to shield herself. And he saw her too easily. With a breathless voice and bruised lips, she couldn’t keep herself from whispering a final defense.

[color=d15e5e]“I’m sure the church will be pleased.”[/color]