[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/WTh35uW.png[/img] Collab between [@The Muse], [@c3p-0h] and [@Queen Arya] [sub]Location: The Aurelian Commander's Quarters[/sub] [i][h1]Part I[/h1][/i] [hr][/center] The snow fell in familiar patterns as Amaya walked down an unfamiliar path. She was trying very hard not to feel like she was making a mistake. Back in the house — [i]their[/i] house — taking Flynn’s hand had been the only natural path forward. His smile as he called her beautiful had been the only truth in the world. And then he’d led her up the stairs and she’d sealed herself in her room… and Amaya had been alone with her thoughts. Chilling, confusing, overwhelming thoughts. She’d given herself a moment of leaning her back against the door, eyes drifting shut as she tried to breathe. Then began the process of putting herself back together again. It took longer than it should’ve. Amaya felt undone and laid bare — and her garments weren’t meant to be fastened by the person wearing them. The absence of Elara, that aching void she used to fill, hurt with every move she made. The attendants began to enter the house and move about their duties, and Amaya felt her heart jump with every new voice, every time the door opened. But the voices were too loud. The footsteps too heavy. Even as she faltered with the ties of her skirts and the buttons of her dress, nerves shooting through her — Amaya knew she was waiting for someone who wasn’t coming. Amaya was bleeding again. She could feel the freshly formed scabs crack and pull with every move she made. She could feel her own blood, hot and thick as it stained her. It would drown her soon enough. She didn’t blame Elara for not coming this morning. She hated her for it. She was so relieved it took her breath away. She — Amaya wiped at stubborn tears. Her room was dark. Any candles lit the day before had long since burned to the quick, leaving Amaya’s bedroom draped in frigid midnight. Was it colder now than when she’d first stepped inside? The echoes of Flynn’s warmth in her hand had faded. Her magic — her [i]magic[/i]. By some miracle it hadn’t run rampant in the night. Probably exhaustion. She’d been so drained yesterday, had used so much magic, both willing and accidental, that there’d probably just not been enough left over to spill out of her as she slept. Even now it felt… calmer, somehow. Placid in a way that left Amaya uneasy. But there was too much to accomplish today to try and examine it too closely. And Amaya was moving too slowly already. She didn’t need candlelight to finish her makeup and the simple arrangement of her hair. Taming her curls, hiding herself behind the careful image of a Princess, was second nature, and she needed little more than the pale moonlight. And when she’d stepped out of the front door of the — of [i]their[/i] — home, Flynn tall and dashing beside her… Amaya’s mask had faltered at his warm smile, the softness in his eyes. The presence of the guards around her, strangers with distant eyes, made it easier to retreat into herself as they walked through Dawnhaven. Flynn was a beacon that captured her attention with every move, but there were other sounds too. Amaya tried not to flinch at every stray noise and flicker in her periphery. She tried not to let her thoughts spin, her body feeling foreign blood, foreign thoughts, her vision filled with a haunted face and crimson and — The world stretched so [i]wide[/i] around her. Why was everything so open? Where were the walls, blocking away the feeling of eyes and the opportunity for [i]hands[/i] to grasp at her — What was she [i]doing?[/i] What exactly did she hope to accomplish, accompanying Flynn to meetings and errands like an errant child, lost if not for a guiding hand to indulge her moods? When had men in uniforms [i]ever[/i] seen her as anything but an impractically pretty doll? And Flynn — Flynn had stopped walking. They stood before a simple building, Aurelian banners hanging limply, pulled by the stray breeze. The snow fell pale across the summer fabric, winter cutting through what should’ve been vibrant and lush. Amaya’s eyes, ice blue and [i]young[/i], took in the sight. She was suddenly very certain she didn’t belong here. Her face remained calm. At least she hadn’t completely lost her ability to mask herself. She flicked her gaze up to Flynn. If there was a flicker of worry, she would’ve denied it. As one of the Aurelian guards pulled open the door to the Commander’s Quarters, Flynn’s attention shifted to his left, missing the way she looked at him. Instead, his focus fixed onto a gleam of pristine armor and golden hair cutting through the torchlight, moving with purpose in a direct line toward them. His posture straightened instinctively, a Princely habit tightening his frame. Amaya tensed on instinct, before her eyes followed his gaze. With a subtle raise of his hand, Flynn signaled the guard holding the door to wait. The man obeyed without question, despite the Commanders waiting inside. Then, as shadows and flickering firelight danced across the approaching figure’s face, Flynn met their gaze head-on. The Champion of Aelios. He recognized her instantly from the temple yesterday—the one he’d heard had arrested Halcyon. And now, her focus was set squarely on him. A friendly smile curved his lips, carefully honed over years of courtly encounters. Diplomatic. Polished. A smile meant to put people at ease—or at least make them think he was at ease himself. Whatever business she had, she clearly wasn’t here for idle pleasantries. [color=337d71]"Champion,"[/color] he greeted smoothly, his voice warm, easy. [color=337d71]"What can we do for you?"[/color] He stole a quick glance at Amaya beside him, hoping to gauge her thoughts in just a few brief seconds. But her expression remained as unreadable as it had been throughout their walk—silent, guarded, giving nothing away. Looking every bit the Princess she was, but far more rigid than she had felt the night before, wrapped up in his arms. A brief exchange of thanks was made with the young Aurelian soldier who'd brought her here, knowing she'd find the Prince at the coming meeting. Dyna could tell from the way the man's gaze stuck to her that there was a more [i]personal[/i] hope hidden behind the assistance than a pure professional interest in one of Aelios’ Champions… yet she did not acknowledge it. Turning instead towards the figures of the Prince and Princess, she cut a purposeful path towards the two. While she wasn't particularly [i]trying[/i] to appear any particular way, the Champion moved with an innate air of confidence and authority. As she approached the Prince and noticed his change in posture, the Champion gave a polite nod of acknowledgement as she closed the distance. Stopping a respectful distance away, and offering Prince a crisp salute. After a few moments, she let the salute fall as her gaze lingered over the pair for a moment. Hardening for the briefest of seconds as her gaze traveled over the Princess; the Champion recalling Ranni's description of the previous day. Something flickered in Amaya’s eyes as she held her gaze, but it lasted less than a heartbeat. Still, she had a task at hand. [color=daa520]"I came to report on the arrest I made, your Grace,”[/color] she said, looking towards the guard holding open the door. [color=daa520]”Given the reason for said actions, I felt it prudent to report in personally. Can you spare a moment?”[/color] she asked, although her gaze betrayed that it was less a request for the Prince… and more a demand for the nearby guard to stop listening in. Flynn gave the Champion a small, agreeable nod. [color=337d71]“Of course.”[/color] His polite smile never faltered, even as he caught the brief flicker of something sharper in her gaze when it passed over Amaya. It was subtle—so quick most might have missed it—but Flynn had been raised to notice the unspoken, to read between the lines of a noble's honeyed words and measured expressions. One of his mother’s many lessons. A prickle of irritation ran beneath his skin, but he smoothed it over in an instant—this was neither the time nor the place to bristle at silent judgment. At the Champion’s request, he cast a glance at the guard still holding the door open, offering a short nod. The soldier hesitated only a moment before stepping outside, allowing the door to close behind him as he resumed his post. Given that the man had nowhere else to go—his duty keeping him stationed there—Flynn subtly motioned to both the Champion and Amaya, signaling them to follow. It took Amaya a few steps to realize that she’d moved as he directed without question — it’d been second nature. This shouldn’t have been surprising. But something about it, the familiarity, the sudden [i]awareness[/i] of it, almost made her stop. It was less than a moment, barely noticeable in the way she moved smoothly after Flynn. But it was there. Amaya shoved the odd feeling down, trying to focus again on the scene surrounding her, on the dynamics and personalities at play. Her eyes were sharp and her mind was quick — she’d always been able to rely on these, if nothing else. Flynn led them only a short distance away, stopping beneath the sprawling branches of a towering pine just off the main path. The crisp air carried the scent of fresh sap, and the ground beneath them dusted with a fine layer of snow and fallen needles. Close enough to the Commander’s Quarters to remain within sight, but far enough for a private conversation. The woods cast a shadow over Amaya’s mind. If she stood a little closer to Flynn, hands tight where they hid in the folds of her skirt, she didn’t let herself think about it. Turning his attention back to the Champion, Flynn met her gaze again. [color=337d71]“I appreciate your diligence, Champion,”[/color] he replied, his tone laced with effortless courtesy. [color=337d71]“What is your name, if I may ask?”[/color] [color=daa520]"Dyna Soleil, Your Grace.”[/color] The Champion said after having followed Flynn and Amaya as they stepped away. [color=daa520]"I apologize, Your Grace, for not reporting yesterday. The… situation plaguing Dawnhaven seemed the more prudent issue to assist with.”[/color] After a few moments, Dyna shook her head as if chastising herself for something. [color=daa520]"My apologies, I will not waste either of your time further,”[/color] The Champion said with a polite-yet-professional tone. [color=daa520]"The man I arrested, was attempting to spread dangerous ideals to Priestess Tia. In particular…”[/color] She said as she cast a look over her shoulder then back towards the Prince. [color=daa520]"A desire of his to strike down King Auric.”[/color] The woman explained, pausing for a moment before continuing. [color=daa520]"He also seemed… excited… about the idea of being questioned by you. I’ve not a clue about the implications there, but you’ve all the facts.”[/color] Flynn arched a brow, intrigued but not entirely surprised. [color=337d71]“That is… quite the different claim,”[/color] he mused, his voice measured. [color=337d71]“Aurelian law does not look kindly on treason, as I’m sure you know.”[/color] It was no secret that even a whisper of regicide had been enough to warrant execution in some cases—each sentence left to the whim of his father. For a brief moment, his mind flickered to Valentina—how, on occasion, his sister had been involved in such decisions. The details were better left unspoken, the reality of her role something he refused to linger on. He buried the thought deep, far beyond reach, where it belonged. Clasping his hands loosely behind his back, he considered the implications. Threats against the crown were nothing new to him—his family had weathered their fair share over the years. This man would be dealt with, just like all those before him. And yet, what lingered in his mind was the enthusiasm with which the Champion said Halcyon awaited his questioning. That same unsettling eagerness Flynn had caught a glimpse of at the tavern. Either the man was a fool, or he believed he held something Flynn wanted. [color=337d71]“I appreciate your quick action, Miss Soleil. It seems I could use more people like you around.”[/color] [color=daa520]”Champion, Your Grace. I've done nothing beyond my duty. Both to the Church and the Crown, and thus nothing worthy of being addressed separately from my title.”[/color] Dyna responded nearly immediately, the trained response coming out nearly instantly. Champions were not to be vain, they were simply but one of the order… Still, even Dyna herself seemed to blink a couple of times in surprise at how quickly, and without thought, she'd responded. [color=daa520]”If I may be of further service to Your Grace,”[/color] She said, turning her attention then towards Amaya, who’d been silently watching the conversation play out. Her pale eyes stilled when Dyna met them directly. [color=daa520]”Either of you,”[/color] She continued. [color=daa520]”Please do not hesitate to ask. It appears I will likely be staying in Dawnhaven, due to Priestess Soleil’s… affliction.”[/color] She offered with a polite bow of the head. Flynn’s gaze sharpened at the name. He turned it over in his mind as he studied the Champion’s face more closely. In personality, they were worlds apart, but the resemblance was there—the same shape of jaw, the same arch of the brow and golden hair that caught the light. He could picture the blight-born priestess without the horns, the pointed ears, or the violet eyes. [color=337d71][i]‘Sisters… twins?’[/i][/color] He thought, the realization settling into place, though he chose not to acknowledge it aloud. [color=daa520]”That was all I had to report, Your Grace. Should I take my leave, or is there more you require?”[/color] She said, returning her attention to Flynn. The air of calm professionalism surrounding Dyna, even hints of her previous flash of emotion towards Amaya herself seemingly abolished, as she awaited the Prince's response. [color=337d71]"Please give the Priestess my deepest gratitude.”[/color] Flynn said, his tone sincere. [color=337d71]“What she and Miss Hightower did last night is worth more to me than I can express and I… I believe I was not in the right state of mind last night to properly convey that."[/color] Amaya watched him intently, something softening behind the cool, careful mask she wore. Hidden in the folds of her dress, her fingers twitched, longing to reach for him. He exhaled softly, his expression momentarily thoughtful before he added, [color=337d71]"I will find a way to thank her myself, soon. But for now…"[/color] Flynn gave Dyna a deep, respectful bow of his head—a rare gesture of high gratitude from Aurelian royalty. Amaya was stunned, staring at him with wide eyes. Protocol dictated that she follow suit and bow as he did. The Soleil sisters certainly [i]deserved[/i] her thanks. But she was frozen in place. All she could do was watch Flynn, the Crown Prince of Aurelia and founder of Dawnhaven, humbling himself — on [i]her[/i] behalf. As he straightened, he parted his lips to say more— [color=FA8072]“[b]Your [i]Grace[/i].[/b]”[/color] A deep voice boomed out from across the path, shattering the moment. Amaya flinched at the sudden noise, a cold, blinding bolt of fear shooting through her. When she came back to herself, she found that she’d moved closer to Flynn, his warm hand securely wrapped around her own at their sides. She’d reached for him on instinct — he’d answered in kind. Flynn turned, catching sight of Volkov, the Lunarian Commander, stepping out of the Commander's Quarters. Amaya’s walls slammed back into place. The older man’s words were formal, but his tone was anything but patient. [color=FA8072]"If you're finished, might we begin this meeting?"[/color] The edge of irritation in Volkov’s voice was unmistakable, toeing the line between formality and outright disrespect. Amaya forced her hand to uncurl, trying to pull back and hide herself behind cold decorum again — but Flynn’s grip only tightened. Before Flynn could reply, the door to the quarters slammed open. [color=FFB19A]"For the love of Aelios, [b]get inside, [i]you fool[/i][/b]. Let the Prince tend to his business."[/color] Barrett, the Aurelian Commander, glared daggers at his Lunarian counterpart, his tone sharp. [color=FFB19A]“Or must I remind you—[i]again[/i]—of protocol?”[/color] Flynn exhaled slowly through his nose, already feeling the onset of a headache creeping in. [color=337d71]"My apologies, Champion,"[/color] he said, his own tone laced with a hint of irritation now. [color=337d71]“Duty calls.”[/color] He inclined his head to her once more. [color=337d71]“Thank you, again.”[/color] Without another word, he turned, catching Amaya’s gaze, searching for any flicker of her thoughts. In that brief, silent exchange, he tried to communicate—[i]Are you ready for this? Are you okay? I’m already tired of them.[/i] Amaya met his gaze, her expression cool and composed. But her mouth was a little too tense. Her posture a little too rigid. Looking into the green of his eyes, she took in a slow breath, the sound reminding her of the tide. Her thumb drifted over the back of his knuckles once. When she slipped her hand out of his, he didn’t protest this time. Breaking their stare, he fell into step beside her, headed toward the Commanders' Quarters. The two old Commanders had begun ushering themselves inside, their muffled bickering barely audible as the door swung shut behind them. As Flynn reached for the door, Amaya glanced back over her shoulder — back to Dyna, shining and resplendent in her Aurelian armor. Amaya traced the lines of her face, stern and guarded where Ranni had been soft and nervous. She remembered them as they’d been at the feast yesterday, unsteady as one hurried after the other. Something stirred in Amaya, flickering to life like her magic. She lowered her eyes. Gave a subtle nod of her head. It was less than the sisters deserved, but it was what she could offer for now. She held Dyna’s gaze for another moment. Then Amaya forced herself to turn and walk through the door Flynn held open for her.