[table][row][cell][img]https://i.imgur.com/WQjDp9F.png[/img][/cell][cell][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240501/f05a736427987502b04e7512136c14ae.png[/img][/cell][/row]
[row][cell][sub]Location: Royal Residence[/sub][/cell][/row][/table]Flynn lay still, his arm still draped around Amaya as she slept peacefully, nestled comfortably between him and the back of the couch. Her breathing was soft, slow and even against his chest. The blanket he had pulled up in the middle of the night covered most of her, her face tilted down slightly as she curled herself in against his body.

He’d been awake for some time, roused by distant noises outside as the guards resumed their regular duties. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but darkness engulfed the room—the logs in the hearth long since burned to ash and the moon’s glow barely visible through the window. They must have slept through the “night” here, wrapped around one another. 

He hadn’t moved since waking—too afraid to untangle himself from her, to wake her and be faced with reality. Last night felt like a dream. A fever dream with raw emotion that had left them both undone in each other's embrace. A part of him feared that when she woke, she’d regain that stubborn strength of hers, harden, and wall him out again. 

His gaze wandered from her peaceful face down to her shoulder, tracing the curve of her body beneath the blanket. Her legs were intertwined with his, fitting in between each other as they had adjusted throughout the night—conscious or not. 

He hadn’t slept like this with someone in months. The last time… The last time had been Nyla. 

The memory found him before he could stop it, clawing its way out of the dark corner he’d shoved it into. He didn’t want to think about it, but it came anyway. The way they’d been tangled in sheets, breathless and fiercely passionate, her fingers digging into his shoulders. How she’d kissed him with that easy, confident smile, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be wrapped up with him. How he’d whispered things he meant, things that felt so real in that moment.

He could almost hear her laugh, warm and unguarded, and it struck him like a dagger between the ribs. She’d always been flighty and unpredictable—hot and cold like a fickle flame, burning bright one moment and slipping through his fingers the next. Their love had been unsteady—like trying to hold on to a summer storm. Sometimes he didn’t know whether she’d kiss him breathless or tease him just to watch him get flustered.

But there had been subtle, comfortable warmth, too. Gentle, quiet moments when she’d rest her head on his shoulder, humming softly under her breath. Times when she’d look at him like he was the only one who could tie her down without clipping her wings. He’d been so sure of her back then—so sure that, despite her unpredictability, she would always find her way back to him. 

And she had. 

When he’d been forced to leave, it had felt like a part of him had been ripped away, leaving something jagged and empty behind. Maybe that was the nature of loss—it left echoes that never truly faded, even when life moved on.

But Amaya was here—solid and warm, breathing softly against him. Right where he’d asked her to stay. A hollow ache settled in his chest, his fingers flexing along her waist as if to reassure himself that she was real. 

He let out a slow breath, trying to let go of the guilt that gnawed at him—that whisper in his mind that he told him he had no idea what it was that he truly wanted. That he would hold onto anyone who would let him get close enough, if only to feel like he was more than just a pawn in someone else's game. 

And yet, Amaya... She'd tried to keep her distance, had attempted to evade him at every turn, but he’d pursued her anyway—drawn to her regardless of the fact that she held no love for him. His heart twisted with something confusing and complex as he tried to pick apart the emotions swirling within him, but it was too much to analyze, and he was too weary.

The air between them suddenly felt too thin. There wasn’t enough for the both of them to share this space. She was stunningly beautiful—a glass work of art that he’d inevitably break.

Carefully, he shifted under the blankets, retreating his hands and untangling his legs from hers as slowly as he could manage. Inch by inch, he freed himself, finally managing to sit up on the edge of the couch. He almost got away with it—almost. But as he reached to pull the blanket back over her, piercing blue eyes blinked open, catching him mid-motion.

That anxious fire within him flickered out, and he couldn’t help the soft smile that curved his lips, caught in her sleepy stare. [color=337d71]“Good morning.”[/color]


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[Sub][b]Interactions:[/b] Amaya [@c3p-0h][/sub]