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| Location: Royal Cabin-The Inn | Collaboration with @The Muse |
Flynn stood downstairs, adjusting his collar in front of a small mirror by the entrance. He wore a tailored dark green wool coat with gold vine embroidery along the edges. Beneath it, a high-collared tunic and deep forest green waistcoat peeked through, both subtly accented with gold. His charcoal trousers were tucked into fur-lined black leather boots, and a rich emerald cloak draped over his shoulders, fastened by a gold leaf brooch. Dressed neatly for the feast, his attire blended Aurelia's elegance with winter practicality—something he rarely needed back home but had wisely prepared for before arriving.
Hearing footsteps descending the stairs, he turned, his gaze softening as he saw Amaya. She looked poised and polished, her head held high like always. He offered her a closed-lipped smile, a genuine warmth behind it.
"Good Morning." he said, glad to see that she planned to leave the confines of her room today.
Flynn nodded as she spoke of Elara, understanding that Amaya and her handmaiden seemed quite close with one another.
"May I walk you there?" he asked, his tone more hopeful than insistent.
Without waiting for an immediate answer, he reached for her heavy coat that hung by the door. As she closed the distance between them, he held it open for her, the gesture silent but clear—he was offering to help her put it on.
Amaya was pleased with herself that she only hesitated
slightly when she glanced at him. His smile was… not
new per se. She’d seen it a fair number of times over the course of the last two months – in the quiet moment they’d had alone immediately following their exchange of vows. The first time he’d shown her the cabin that would become their home for what might be the rest of their lives. When he’d placed a plate of surprisingly edible food in front of her just the other day. Amaya was beginning to recognize this smile.
That the sight of it didn’t immediately fill her with indignation, though – that was new.
If there was one thing Amaya hated, it was others seeing her caught off guard. Flynn had seen that an embarrassing number of times, of late. And so, she didn’t pause as she walked down the stairs and approached. She swallowed at the proximity, suddenly nervous the closer she got. She turned, slipping her arms through the offered coat in a smooth motion. Amaya pretended she didn’t remember the echoes of his voice, soft and close, murmuring to her as she fell apart.
At least when her back was turned to him, he couldn’t see her expression. Eyebrows scrunched together, lips pressed, it only lasted a moment. Amaya didn’t
want anyone else there when she went to see Elara – she didn’t want to have to hold herself together for anyone, least of all Flynn who’d seen so much of her already.
But then she imagined herself wandering aimlessly around Dawnhaven because she didn’t know where anything was — sightseeing hadn’t been high on her list of things to do in the last two months. Or venturing much out of the cabin at all. But Amaya didn’t have the luxury of moping around or refusing Flynn just to be petty anymore.
When she stepped away from Flynn and turned back to face him, coat heavy on her shoulders, her expression was unbothered again.
“If you wish.”As Flynn opened the cabin door the cold air swept in, but the wind was gentle now, the storm reduced to a slow, steady fall of snowflakes. The path before them was clear, the snow piled high on either side, evidence of the guards' efforts. When they stepped out, the guard on duty straightened and bowed to them both, offering a polite greeting.
"Your Highnesses, good morning."Flynn acknowledged the guard with a nod, then turned to Amaya, making sure he would walk in step with her as they made their way down the freshly cleared path. The walk to Elara's home was only about five minutes, but with each step, the silence between them grew awkward—yet somehow he felt it was becoming more familiar. Still, he found himself searching for words, anything to fill the space.
In his head, Flynn could still hear the sharp edge in his mother’s voice, chiding him with the lessons she’d drilled into him since he was a boy.
“Stop standing there like a mute, Flynn.” she had said through gritted teeth, a hand tightly gripped around his bicep as she forcefully dragged the teenage Prince to the side during one of their dining events with the Raunefeldt family.
“Do you want people to think you’re a dull-witted boy with nothing to offer?” her green eyes narrowed in disappointment as she pretended to be fixing his collared jacket.
"No, mother, I just don't like—""A prince who cannot command a room with his voice is no prince at all." She swiftly cut him off. Flynn had opened his mouth to say more, but closed it shortly after, knowing better.
"You must entertain and engage.” she reiterated, pulling his coat to make it perfectly straight against his body.
"At least make an effort—silence is no way to make anyone feel welcome." Delicately, she fixed the placement of his blonde locks while glaring daggers at him.
"If you can't manage a simple conversation, how do you expect to lead? You’ll look a fool, and worse—make your family look a fool." The sting of her words had a way of resurfacing at the most inconvenient times, reminding him of the expectations that came with his upbringing.
Brought back to reality by the crunching of snow underneath their boots, Flynn shifted uncomfortably, aware that his silence might seem awkward or rude, even though the right words still eluded him.
"It's good to be outside again, isn't it?" he said at last, glancing up toward the dark sky, where the full moon shone brightly, illuminating the snowy landscape. He let out a small laugh, more to break the silence than anything else.
"I don't know how you all manage to live in such a harsh place year after year." He tried to keep his tone light, the hint of a joke in his words, though there was an underlying admiration there—an acknowledgment of the resilience he'd seen in her and the others who called this place home.
Amaya bit back her immediate response – to ask if
His Highness had alternative suggestions?. She took in a slow breath and reminded herself that she wasn’t being petty anymore. In truth, the silence had been a relief. She didn’t know how to converse with him without being set on edge. Instead, she’d spent the quiet walk trying to take in everything about the town that she could, memorizing the path to Elara’s home – which she realized she vaguely remembered, at least. Her magic buzzed gently under her skin. Amaya had been sure to expend some before leaving her room this morning, and prayed to Seluna that it would be depleted enough to at least be manageable through the feast.
But Flynn was right about one thing – it
was nice to be outside. After being trapped in her room, Amaya didn’t realize how much she’d missed the glittering snow, the soft way it crunched under her boots, the way it enveloped the town like a blanket.
“The same way Aurelians manage without the sun, I imagine,” she finally offered, her voice soft and reserved.
“There is no other choice but to survive.”Flynn nodded thoughtfully at Amaya's words, a quiet acknowledgment of the truth in them.
"I suppose you're right," he said, his voice softer, almost contemplative.
"Survival is the only choice." Ironically, he felt the same way about their prophesied fate. He would not surrender to being sacrificed without a fight.
As they continued to walk, he couldn’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between their two kingdoms. Aurelia had always been the more prosperous of the two—a land of sun and fertile soil, with every advantage stacked in its favor. Its power and wealth had come easily, while Lunaris had been left to struggle in shadow. Now, everything was flipped.
A tinge of guilt crept into Flynn's chest, and he tried to push it away. He knew the history—how his kingdom had used its superiority to oppress the Lunarians for generations. His father had always dismissed it as the natural order of things, never sparing a thought for the lives it affected. Flynn had long told himself he shouldn’t feel responsible for the sins of his ancestors, but the nagging feeling lingered. What if he could be the one to change things? The idea felt like hubris, a dangerous pride that he had no right to entertain.
As they neared Elara’s home, he noticed something unusual—he had let a few more minutes of silence pass between them, and for once, it didn’t feel excruciatingly awkward. The quiet felt... comfortable. The kind of silence that wasn't strained, but almost peaceful in its simplicity. Odd.
When they reached Elara’s door, Flynn glanced through the windows and found them dark, no hint of movement inside. He knocked firmly and waited, listening for any sound within. After a minute or two, he turned to Amaya.
"She might already be at the feast." he said, meeting her gaze and watching her expression for that familiar look of disappointment.
Amaya was struck by the sudden, overwhelming feeling of being
alone. She stood in an empty cavern, her own voice echoing back at her as she called out, mocking her with each reverberation.
And then just as she always did, she shoved the feeling down because she was not a
child.If there was any hurt in her eyes, it was only there for a moment before Amaya wrestled herself back under control.
“Well,” she said, her voice too tight. The cloud that formed in front of her face was too big for the word, her magic twitching to life. She looked away from Flynn to see Elara’s house again. Her hands tightened at her sides as she smoothed her magic back down again.
“It was unimportant anyway.” She repeated it to herself in her head. It didn’t
matter. She saw her handmaiden near every day, this past week notwithstanding. She’d see her again soon enough.
“It can wait until after the festivities.” After Amaya was surrounded by people she
didn’t know, in an environment where she didn’t know how to act or what was expected to her, and –
She pulled herself back in. She breathed until the little clouds that formed from her breath were small, faint wisps. Amaya would go to the feast, perform adequately, and
keep herself together through all of it.
“Others have likely already gathered at the inn,” she said, still looking at the empty cabin. She suddenly didn’t want to be here, standing before this reminder of her own insecurity and embarrassment. She looked back at Flynn with her carefully neutral expression, if only so she didn’t have to look at the building anymore.
“They’ll grow restless if you let them wait too long.”Flynn noticed the shift in Amaya’s expression—just a flicker, barely enough to register, but he saw it. Her eyes lingered on Elara’s cabin in a way that made it clear the news hadn’t sat well with her. He didn’t pry, though; Amaya had always been careful to keep herself guarded, and he respected that. Instead, he nodded at her words.
"You're right, we shouldn't let them wait much longer," he said, his tone light. Amaya’s eyebrow twitched up.
"Hopefully Elara is enjoying the food and you two can catch up there."Selfishly, he was glad for her continued company. Despite her silence, he was glad to have her beside him. It was better than being trapped alone in his own mind, wrestling with thoughts that never seemed to give him peace. Even if Amaya didn’t say much, her presence was a welcome distraction.
As they started down the cleared path towards the city center, he wondered how the festivities were coming along. Were the Aurelian's and Lunarians getting along after so much seclusion? Were they making friends, becoming comrades? It was most likely a far fetched dream.
After a while, he couldn't resist a playful smile as he glanced over at Amaya.
"So, are you looking forward to a real meal soon? I mean, anything has to be better than the attempts I made for you, right?" His smile grew a bit wider as he met eyes with her, finding humor in his kitchen escapades, if only for a moment.
Amaya was pulled from her buzzing thoughts — of breathing exercises, the town’s layout, the impending
crowd she would be amongst — by the sound of Flynn’s voice. Her eyes flicked over to him at his tone, giving him an unimpressed look. There was no heat to it though — no edge. The memory of his attempts at cooking flashed through her mind. He’d been so…
proud of himself. So eager for her reaction. Amaya had stubbornly refrained from commenting, like to give him her opinion would be to lose something. But each time she’d finished her meal and returned to her room without a word, seeing him deflate out of the corner of her eye… it hadn’t felt like winning.
He was still fishing for an evaluation, it seemed.
She pulled her gaze away from him — his smile, his green eyes — to look forward again. She let out a breath. Perhaps she was feeling generous.
“Few would expect a Crown Prince to know the first thing about cooking,” she said primly. The ground crunched under their boots as they walked through the town, a light breeze lifting wisps of snow into the air from where it was piled along the path.
“That we survived it at all should be cause for celebration.” Amaya had finished her plate each time.
Flynn let out a laugh—a genuine laugh that seemed to shake off some of the heaviness that weighed on his soul. The first real laugh he'd had in ages. Amaya jumped at the sound, turning her head to look at him fully. He looked at Amaya, a grin still lingering on his face.
"I'll give you that," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice.
“The fact that you tried it at all is a feat of bravery. We should hold a celebration in your name—Amaya the Brave.”She blinked up at him. Then she turned her gaze straight ahead, before her cheeks could start to heat.
It was a relief for Flynn, hearing her at least entertain the question, even if her words were sharp as ever. The way she spoke was almost even… endearing? There was something oddly comforting in her dry humor, and he felt a small sense of satisfaction settle within him.
Slowly, the distant hum of the gathering crowd began to drift toward them, growing louder with each step. Flynn's eyes flicked to Amaya now and then, watching her closely, ready for any sign that her magic might be stirring again. He wasn’t entirely sure how to help her if it did, but he was determined to try.
As they rounded the final corner, the sight of people clustered around the tavern came into view—citizens laughing, enjoying warm food, and huddling close to the bonfire. It pleased him, at least, to see that people were eager to converse with one another and break bread.
"Elara must be around somewhere," he mused aloud, scanning the crowd and searching for the familiar flash of silver hair.
Amaya’s hands tightened around the thick fabric of her coat, her nerves jumping at the sight of the crowd. Any cracks in her mask that she’d allowed were rapidly filling themselves in as she retreated into herself.
She had no experience on which to draw from to know how to…
deal with this. Amaya had never been amongst common folk before. She’d never been to an
inn. Her father’s greatest shame, he’d all but hidden her away within the walls of the palace. She’d stood before the people of Dawnhaven a brief handful of times, and each time her role had been simple — keep still, keep her expression neutral, walk where directed,
eulogize her mother…
She nearly opened her mouth to ask Flynn
what was expected of her, or
how long did she have to be here, or
why did that man have a shovel. But Amaya pressed her lips together, shoving each question down the moment it appeared. Her white clouds of breath seemed to grow — or perhaps that was just a result of her breathing growing more rapid.
Flynn strolled into the square with a sense of ease, blissfully unaware of the turmoil building inside Amaya. He had spent his entire life being groomed for these moments, effortlessly stepping into the role of leader, trained from a young age to address the crowd with poise and confidence. The stage was second nature to him, woven into the fabric of his upbringing. It never crossed his mind that for Amaya, it might be different—that the very idea of speaking before strangers might twist her insides. Their upbringings were worlds apart, each molded by entirely different expectations.
Amaya’s steps slowed as they walked further into the square. She felt smaller and smaller with each step, fighting to keep her chin held high and her expression blank as more and more people spotted them with lingering gazes. Some were even
smiling at them. Well, at
Flynn. A man amongst his people, Amaya felt a sharp pang of envy at how easily he seemed to move.
He spotted Elara standing near Sya in the distance and smiled, pointing them out.
"There she is." he said casually, as if it were just another day. Amaya perked up, her eyes desperately searching the crowd for her handmaiden’s familiar face. A relieved breath escaped her when she saw silver hair. As Flynn’s eyes drifted back to Sya, however, he did a double take, furrowing his brow in confusion.
"That's new..." he muttered, his eyes fixed on Sya from afar, unsure if he was still grounded in reality. It was like a scene pulled straight from a dream—or a nightmare—where reality twisted in ways that defied reason. The innkeeper, somehow, no longer had legs. Instead, a sleek, shimmering snake tail took their place. How had she morphed
again?He blinked in disbelief before turning back to Amaya, the uncertainty of the moment making him hesitate. Did she want him to walk her over to the group of strangers now gathering around Elara and Sya? Or was she waiting for him to leave her alone, giving her the space she so desperately seemed to crave? Part of him didn’t want to let go of her company just yet—it had been easier with her beside him, even with the silences.
Flynn found himself torn between the desire to stay close and the worry that his presence might only add to her discomfort. So, he waited, looking to her for any sign of what she needed, ready to follow her lead—whatever that might be.
Amaya hesitated, now that she’d finally found Elara. She was in the middle of a chaotic gaggle of people, two of them very
noticeably blightborn, and a small handful that she recognized. Despite the mess of bodies and voices surrounding her though, Elara seemed… comfortable. As reserved as ever, but relaxed, as she munched on a cookie. Another sharp pang of envy stabbed through Amaya, at her friend’s poise.
Oh, stop feeling inadequate and just do something about it.Though her hands remained tight at her sides, Amaya tried to stretch taller, to relax the muscles in her face to at least
pretend she was calm. But when she tried to force herself to move towards the crowd around Elara, she couldn’t do it.
“She seems… occupied.” Amaya tried to tell herself that this wasn’t retreating.
“It would be impolite to —”She cut off with a sharp gasp as something bumped into her and Amaya was pushed into Flynn’s side. There was suddenly a chill at her fingertips. Flinching away from the collision Amaya looked over with wide eyes.
Flynn reacted on instinct the moment Amaya stumbled into him, his arms reaching out to catch her before she could fall. One of his hands settled on her waist while the other steadied her shoulder, the touch lingering as he focused his full attention on the man who had run into her.
It was a large man, with a red nose and Aurelian garb. He blinked and looked over Amaya’s head at Flynn.
“Beg your pardon, Your Highness…es.” His eyes darted between Prince and Princess, looking at them with mild surprise.
Flynn's gaze hardened, a flash of protectiveness igniting in his green eyes as he stood a little taller, shielding Amaya with his presence.
"Watch where you’re going." he said in a voice that carried more command than usual, his tone clipped with restrained irritation. Amaya’s eyes flicked up to him, shocked by the harshness of his normally smooth voice.
“Move along, now.”The man, clearly taken aback, gave a hasty nod and a mumbled apology before stumbling off.
Amaya could only stare up at Flynn, cataloging this new facet of him. She knew he was unguarded with his emotions. She’d seen him switch from joy, to worry, to defeat, and back again in the span of a single conversation… but never
anger. It was contained, but unmistakable in the small crease of his brow, in the way his lip lifted slightly as he watched the other man over Amaya’s shoulder.
Flynn looked down at Amaya then, his eyes softening with concern as he slowly released his hold on her, though the warmth of his touch seemed to linger in the small space between them.
"Are you alright?" he asked gently, searching her face for any sign of distress—not just physically, but emotionally, knowing how on edge she had been as of late.
His switch back to quiet concern caught Amaya off guard. Suddenly his focus was back on her, and it was like she was surrounded by him. His green eyes searched hers, his hands hovering above her body like he was ready to put her back together if she fell apart. At some point she’d brought her hand up to his chest to steady herself, the fine embroidery of his coat catching against her skin.
She took a step back.
Light and sound returned to the world. She’d been standing in his shadow, she realized distantly. They’d been so close together that his tall form had blocked out the firelight flickering around them. Chatter filled the air around them, mixing with scraping utensils and grunting chairlegs. Amaya brought her hand behind her back, fingers curling. The chill was gone. She swallowed, trying to find her voice again.
Flynn frowned as Amaya’s hand slipped from his chest, feeling the absence of her touch. For a moment, he felt a pang of longing and almost wished for her to stay so that they could hold onto that rare closeness just a bit longer. But he quickly shoved the thought aside, reminding himself how long it had been since he’d felt a woman's touch—too long,
clearly, if something as simple as her steadying hand could make his mind whirl like this. There was no way he could have been developing any sort of feelings for the Ice Princess… could he? She had shown him only slivers of herself, barely wanting to be around him. And yet…
“I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend to than playing the role of my keeper,” she said in lieu of an answer. The words came out in a rush, her voice softer than she’d intended. She glanced around them, at the unknown faces and huddled bodies.
“I promise to survive until you’re ready to leave.” She was so focused on being dismissive, Amaya didn’t realize she’d implied that she still expected to walk home with him.
As Amaya deflected, her words left Flynn feeling bittersweet, recognizing the distance she was trying to create again. Still, despite her attempts at putting up walls, her comment about waiting until he was ready to leave echoed in his mind, and he found a trace of hope in the idea that she still intended to be by his side later on.
She gave him one last look. Then Amaya forced herself to turn and walk towards Elara, her back straight and her pace measured. She didn’t give herself the chance to look back at her husband.
"I’ll come find you soon," he called after her, carrying a note of encouragement. For a few breaths he watched her approach Elara’s group, shoulders square, as brave as ever.
Turning his attention back to the crowd, Flynn shifted his focus. He needed to whittle down his ever growing tasklist. Near the top of the list was Ashe, the fiery blight-born who he had promised an interview with before the blizzard had trapped them indoors. He began scanning the crowd, expecting to spot Ashe’s flaming aura with ease among the bodies that filled the square.
But then, something else caught his eye—a raven-haired woman with pale blue eyes that pierced right through him. His breath caught in his throat as he instantly recognized her face.
Nyla.
The sight of her hit him like a punch to the gut, his heart dropping into his stomach and then racing uncontrollably. The sound of the crowd chatter dulled to a muted buzz in his ears, drowned out by the sudden ringing and the thunderous beating of his own heart. He blinked, once, twice, hoping he was imagining it. But no, she was there, staring right back at him from across the square.
For a moment that felt like an eternity, they simply stared at each other, the weight of countless memories rushing to the forefront of Flynn’s mind. The connection between them taut and electric. He could hardly breathe.
Was this real? Why was she here? How was she here? His mind raced, his body paralyzed. He had to be dreaming.
Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, she turned away, slipping into the tavern and vanishing from view. The shock of her presence caused his hands to tremble with adrenaline, his stomach twisting in ways that made him feel sick. Flynn stood frozen in place, trying to process whether this was reality or some cruel trick of his imagination.
His concentration shattered as a guard passed by, dipping his head in a respectful nod and offering a quick,
“Your Highness.” The words jolted Flynn back to reality, and he felt a hot flash of energy rush through his body, like a wildfire sweeping through his veins. His nerves bounced wildly inside his chest, making him feel both sweaty and cold at the same time—a confusing storm of sensations that left him unsteady.
He forced a stiff nod in return to the guard, the motion automatic, though he barely registered it. Desperately trying to ground himself, he glanced once more in Amaya’s direction, catching sight of her just as she began to connect with Elara’s group. For a moment, he hesitated, torn between the pull of his duty to Amaya and the overwhelming need to chase down a ghost from his past.
Forcing his legs to move, Flynn pushed his way through the throng of people with newfound urgency. He had to know. He had to confirm if Nyla was truly here or if his mind was playing tricks. The crowd seemed to blur around him, the faces and voices blending into a haze as he set his sights on the inn.
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