Midwinter is different in Katolis. They call it Yule here, and Rayla's done a couple on this side of the border now that the yearly traditions aren't such a surprise. Skating is weird (she's been using her blades pretty deftly for years now and she's never once thought about strapping them to her feet but okay) and the food is... not for her (she and Ezran stick to salads while the others dig into the boar Soren and Corvus had brought back from a hunt) but the sentiment is the same. It's friends and family gathered around the hearth to celebrate, to talk and laugh and share stories of the year gone by.
It's supposed to be a happy time. A time of peace. Of rest. Of relief.
Instead, Rayla is wringing her hands in the hall while the others gather by the fire, uncertainty roiling in her gut.
It's been three years since the Archdragons defeated Aaravos. In four more, he will return, and she and Callum had promised to keep everything on hold until then; to wait until the danger had passed before they commit to the life they know they both want, and yet...
She swallows. She breathes. She clenches her fists and focuses on the sensation of her nails in her palms to keep herself from throwing up.
"You haven't told him yet."
"No, I haven't told him yet," she snaps, waving Runaan off with an irritated huff. "I haven't told anyone yet.You shouldn't even know."
"I can't help that I know you well, Rayla." Runaan smirks a little at that. "You remind me of your mother."
"Oh, please, like this is even a little bit the same."
"She had concerns," he says. "That she wasn't ready. That Lain wasn't."
"They just had to go back to work," snaps Rayla. "We have a time limit. Four years, Runaan. Four before the world'll end again. That's not a life! That's barely even a childhood! How could we possibly—"
"Overreacting?" Rayla scowls and rounds on her father, hackles raised, jaw clenched, teeth sore from the way she's been grinding them for days. "Aaravos isn't done, Runaan! He'll be back! What if we're not ready then? What if we can't stop him? What if—"
Runaan holds her stare, his face unnervingly unworried. "What if you do defeat him? What if it's all okay after all? Will you sit around and put something like this off because you're afraid of the next thing?"
"There won't be a next thing—"
"Well—you don't know that we'll defeat him either."
"And you don't know that you won't."
Rayla clamps her mouth shut. Runaan twitches the corner of his lips.
"There's a lot of uncertainty right now, Rayla," he says gently, "but something that is certain is that Callum loves you. There's no doubt about that. And he will not resent you for bringing his child into this world."
Rayla grimaces. "You're not worried even a little?"
"I will worry when I need to. There's no point in worrying twice."
Rayla breathes again: one slow steady breath in, one rush of an exhale out. "You've been hanging out with Gren."
Runaan laughs at that. "Yes, I remember him. Far too sunny a human but surprisingly good company these days. Go on, little blade. Your beloved deserves to know."
He pushes Rayla into the room and Callum looks up at once, his eyes bright and pleased to see her join them at last. Rayla takes another breath. And then another. And one more after that.
There's no point in worrying twice, she tells herself.
(And, in any case, Callum is thrilled).
2087
vaporwave
stormborns
kianamaiart
yousharknotpass
izzy806
germansingergirl
