𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤

sometimes, her sister’s…. not person? thing… was amusing. there always seemed to be dryness to beric’s words.  something morella could appreciate in a world filled with more pomp and circumstance then she could truly stomach. their words, their schemes, all of their games, to a dragon it meant nothing. like ants or rats, something to be eaten and squashed. but she was not born with her soul’s wings. nor the giant maw she could feel sometimes as if it was unhinging her own.

a twitch of a smile curved her lips before it was gone in the shifting of ice that was her natural expression. tilting her head to mirror his own earlier move, she motioned with her eyes that they would be moving further into the shadows with his agreeance before her body began that shift. it took a moment, away from the path. among nothing but the forgotten bits of dust the staff hadn’t had time to get to yet with an area so large to take care of.

“i wish to speak of my sister,” she began, her voice still low, holding coldness with a feral quality seeping in that was truly her own. “i wish to speak without masks,” her hands accompanied her question, moving to push her hood down and allowing her long braided her to shift over her shoulder. bones weaved in between the strands from her kills. animal and not alike. 

The faint movement of her smile did not escape him, little escaped beric when he was paying attention, whether he chose to acknowledge it was another matter entirely. he followed without protest when she indicated they should move elsewhere, deeper into shadow, away from wandering servants and curious ears. by the time she finally spoke again, his expression had settled into something attentive, if mildly curious. “your sister?” he repeated, for the first time, genuine interest surfaced. his gaze followed the movement of her hands as she lowered her hood. then to the blade as she drew it free and rested it aside. the challenge arrived a moment later.

for a heartbeat, beric simply looked at her. then the corner of his mouth curved. “lady morella.” her name settled easily between them. “if i intended to speak through a mask, your sword would make very little difference.” his eyes drifted briefly toward the weapon leaning against the wall before returning to her once more. “though i admit i am slightly offended.” the observation came dryly. “you've known me all of five minutes and already decided i require disarming.” a pause followed, thoughtful, the faint amusement remained. “for future reference, the things capable of causing me real damage are rarely made of steel.” his attention lingered on her for another moment before he inclined his head slightly. “yes, i am capable of speaking without masks, whether that's a wise decision where your sister is concerned remains to be seen.” his gaze held hers steadily. “but you've come this far. i'd hate to disappoint you, ask what you came to ask, lady kaelvorn.”

Lenore seemed to have developed a habit of starting games she could not win. How many times had she tried to string him up, only for him to entrap her instead? She let the silence stretch between them, half-noose, half-chain, while she smiled faintly, her eyes devoid of mirth. “You flatter me.” Lifting her head slightly, she took a deep breath, registering the barest trace of honeysuckle in the air, cloying and sweet in the cool night. In the distance, the music lingered on a single trembling chord. “Whether or not I am capable of more, the true question is whether I will.” Her voice was its own hushed melody, a silver bell. “Instead, I am here, speaking with you in circles again, and gaining little that is of use to me.” From her periphery, she watched his eyes cloud. They were still the deepest blue she had ever seen. Lenore wanted to lean in, to read his thoughts, to unspool him, to learn him. Why could she never tell what he was thinking? Perhaps if she finally could, she would grow tired of him, and then this affliction would cease.

More words. He curled a lock around his finger, and she let him. Something inside her coiled in answer, cold and dangerous. “The image does not appeal to you? What a pity.” She met his eyes and did not blink. “I made the lie pretty, just for you. Of course, I should have known better.” Her finger traced the edge of the banister, discovering the invisible grooves worn by time into the stone. “You like raw truths you can cut your teeth on.” She let the words settle before continuing. “You know what amuses me most about you, wolf? How you seem to enjoy the hunt, and yet, once you seemingly have captured your prey, you do not seem quite to know what to do with it.” Her hand lifted then, smoothing a wrinkle from his tunic with a feather-light touch. “I did not come here to convince you. I came here to play.” A soft sigh left her lips, scented faintly like jasmine. “But you have bored me.”

The corner of beric's mouth moved faintly at that, not quite amusement. certainly but not surrender. “is that what you think?” his gaze remained fixed upon her as she spoke lingering on every carefully chosen word, every dismissal offered only after she had ensured he was listening. for someone supposedly bored lenore invested a remarkable amount of effort into proving it. his fingers released the curl slowly. “you mistake restraint for uncertainty.” the observation came quietly, the distance between them had already narrowed, now it vanished entirely. one step, then another, until the banister rested against her and there was nowhere left for the conversation to retreat. beric's gaze lowered briefly to the hand smoothing the front of his tunic before returning to her face, he could smell jasmine. feel the warmth of heliophra lingering in the night air around them. “you came here to play,” he echoed. “and yet you've spent this entire conversation trying to convince me you don't care who wins.”

his hand settled lightly against the stone railing beside her, trapping nothing and yet somehow making the space feel smaller all the same. “i've never understood why you insist on lying about the things you're worst at hiding.” for the first time his attention drifted from her eyes to the curve of her jaw, the line of her throat, then back again. “and as for my prey,” his voice lowered. “you've made the mistake of assuming capture was ever the goal.” before she could twist the conversation into another circle, beric leaned forward, nor to claim her lips. not enough to give her the victory of calling it romance. instead his mouth brushed briefly against the side of her neck, a fleeting touch that lingered only long enough to steal the next clever remark from her tongue. then he withdrew, his gaze settled on hers once more. “there.” the faintest trace of amusement appeared. “are you entertained now, little bird?”

Stop, she said. Pleaded. He could not. Because he was the one who had done this, he who had sworn her only the greatest happiness, and yet had already brought her such sorrow that she had been reduced to weeping at a single phrase. The sound of it carved into him, a quiet, unbearable thing. Something inside him hardened all the same, a final, desperate defense rising up against her so he would not collapse at her feet. If he let even a shred of feeling in now, he knew he would never leave. He would stay with her forever, surrender entirely, and continue to taint her with his unworthy hands until their love blackened like overripe fruit and fell, spoiled beyond saving. She would either come to despise him once she realized his failings, or she would perish because of them, and then the world would truly burn, for he would be the one to set the pyre. So instead, for her, for the realm, for his oath, he would kill his heart. Murder their love. Once, he would have crawled through glass to reach her, died a thousand deaths to hold her hand. Now he would suffer her parting instead, sever himself from her, and suffer the gaping wound of her absence.

He carefully took her wrist, as though it might shatter, as though he might, removing her touch from his sleeve. “Seraphyna, it’s over.” The words fell from his mouth like sulfur, a confession phrased as penance. “I cannot be with you.” Quickly, almost reflexively, Hiran dropped her hand, as if her touch itself were poison. “It was unfair of me to promise you my heart, when in truth it was never mine to give.” His eyes lifted to her, smothered, deadened, devoid of feeling. “I made a mistake and made you suffer for it.” His words came out neatly, almost courteous, as if he had rehearsed them for many nights. “I thought I could be both man and knight, but I forgot myself, my duty, and I cannot betray my name.” He bowed then, deeply, formally. “I cannot ask for your forgiveness,” he whispered, the slightest fracture in his voice, “but I hope one day you will come to understand.”

For a moment seraphyna did not understand even the words reached her and she heard them. she understood every single one individually and yet together they refused to make sense. the lanterns blurred as she realized only distantly that tears had begun falling down her face, one after another. silent. steady. his fingers closed around her wrist and she let him move her hand away, not because she wanted to release him but because suddenly she could not seem to make her body obey her at all. the heaviness in her chest became something else, something sharp, something sickening. it stole the breath from her lungs. when he dropped her hand the absence felt physical, like a wound. seraphyna stared at him, at the bow, at the distance he had placed between them. at the stranger standing where the man she loved had been only moments before. her head moved slowly. once. twice. a silent denial. silver eyes remained fixed upon him as more tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “don't.” the word barely emerged, broken as she swallowed hard.

every sentence she attempted seemed to collapse somewhere behind her ribs, she wanted to tell him he was wrong, wanted to ask what duty demanded this. wanted to remind him of every promise they had made beneath moonlight and prayer and hope. wanted to ask why she had not been worth fighting for, instead she only stood there trembling her hands slowly curling into themselves. “please...” the word escaped before she could stop the, small, humiliating, honest. for the first time in her life seraphyna understood why grief drove people to their knees. the urge struck her so suddenly it frightened her, to beg. to bargain. to offer him anything if only he would take the words back, but she could not. she could barely breathe, “you don't mean that,” another tear slipped free, then another as her voice shook violently now. “you can't,” because the alternative was unbearable, because if he meant it, then every future she had quietly built around him had just died. and unlike the white oak, unlike the scrolls, unlike the home she had lost, there would be no ashes left to gather afterward, only emptiness. her gaze searched his face desperately, looking for something. anything. the man she loved or the warmth, or any sign of hesitation. “hiran...” his name broke apart on her tongue and for the first time since the white oak burned, seraphyna tethalune looked utterly helpless.

silken  voice  comes  forth  and  even  if  he  hadn't  seen  nuray  since  the  gathering  at  morkhul  ,  the  two  had  always  gone  long  without  correspondence  and  still  fallen  back  into  place  .  he'd  suspected  she  would  be  one  of  few  to  seek  him  out  .  one  of  few  he'd  perhaps  let  in  .  why  ?  maybe  because  she  didn't  pester  her  tears  ,  grief  or  words  upon  him  but  rather  tried  to  reel  back  what  little  was  left  of  the  once  great  council  man  who  now  was  nothing  but  a  withering  husk  .  head  lifts  and  onyx  hues  gaze  towards  the  sunrise  peeking  in  between  unclosed  curtains  .  should  he  follow  ?  should  his  blackened  and  angered  soul  follow  his  beloved  and  be  done  with  it  ?  damn  them  all  ,  let  the  world  and  order  they  all  wished  for  disappear  into  nothingness  ?  if  he  could  watch  ,  perhaps  he'd  let  it  happen  .

turning  where  he  was  seated  his  onyx  orbs  found  her  .  the  beasts  in  his  eyes  feral  with  need  to  let  lose  .  to  burrow  their  teeth  in  gore  and  creimson  .  "  can  you  bring  her  back  ?  "  he  knew  the  answer  before  it  escaped  his  lips  .  no  one  could  .  he  didn't  even  trust  nuray  in  this  very  moment  ,  for  all  he  knew  he'd  guided  his  son  into  her  slender  fingers  and  he'd  taken  every  measure  he  could  to  scheme  and  talk  with  her  .  his  son  ,  a  chapter  he'd  rather  lay  burried  until  the  need  to  choke  him  wasn't  present  anymore  .  "  ease  my  stay  by  letting  me  greet  the  sun  perhaps  ,  i  see  no  more  reason  to  stay  upon  this  forsaken  land  .  "  the  first  sad  smile  appeared  upon  his  lips  .  "  is  it  not  better  for  me  to  turn  to  ashe  ?  for  i  believe  as  soon  as  this  sadness  disappears  ,  i  will  want  nothing  but  blood  ,  dear  nuray  .  "  void  of  emotion  ,  yet  every  ounce  the  threat  he  meant  it  to  be  ,  to  everyone  -  not  her  alone  .

For a moment, nuray said nothing. his question settled heavily in the room between them, joining all the other things neither of them truly wished to voice aloud. can you bring her back? no. they both knew that. her gaze remained fixed upon him as he turned toward her, taking in the fury lurking beneath the grief, the exhaustion beneath the fury. she had seen kaelen angry before. she had seen him stubborn, sharp, relentless. this felt different. this felt like standing too close to a wound that had forgotten how to close. and then there was the name. nuray. the familiarity of it landed strangely amidst everything else and perhaps because she could not remember the last time he had used it. perhaps because grief had stripped away so many of the barriers people normally hid behind, she wasn't certain which possibility unsettled her more. “if i could,” she answered quietly at last, “i would not be standing here.” the admission carried no diplomacy. her gaze drifted briefly toward the growing light beyond the windows before returning to him once more. “and if turning to ash would bring her back, i suspect you would need no escort to the light”

slowly, nuray moved closer, not enough to intrude upon the space he had carved around himself, but enough that speaking no longer felt like addressing a ghost across a room. “but it won't,” her voice softened. “it will simply leave another grave behind.” the words lingered for a moment before silence settled again, outside, dawn continued its slow advance across the horizon. inside, her chest tightened despite every effort to remain composed because a part of her feared he meant it. a part of her feared that if she looked away for too long, he might walk directly into the sunrise simply to see whether the pain ended there.

“and for what it's worth,” she continued more quietly, her gaze never leaving his, “i don't think the blood will help either.” there was no judgment in the statement, only understanding. “vengeance has a habit of promising relief it never intends to provide.” a small pause followed before she walked pass him to the window, closing them with both arms, the room illuminated by the dancing lantherns.

as more and more houses converged within the keep, morella found herself retreating to the shadows whenever she could. if only for a little respite in her own mind. most living beings were exhausting. putting up with their continued existence taxed her mind more than she would like to admit. despite her silence, her brain commonly had enough to say that it would annoy herself. but that didn’t mean there weren’t a few she was looking out for, specifically.

the verathorm arrival seemed to carry the same circumstance it always did, which was good. despite the circumstance of ophelia being the only to survive of the chosen. but, perhaps they were a mask just like anyone else could. morella understood that more than many. she wasn’t looking for one of the younger verthorms, it was beric that her cold eyes looked for.

allowing them to settle, she waited, stalking the halls quietly for a short time and allowing her sister to have her conversations she expected to be in private. but this one was for morella to have all on her own. an echo for ferocity playing in the back of her mind as she waited. vryn was restless, she could feel it in her own bones. catching sight of the man in question, she moved to walk just behind him, like a shadow. just as she did with her sister.

The corridors near the verathorm chambers were considerably quieter than the rest of elaris keep. whether by fortune or deliberate design beric had found himself lingering there rather than returning to the endless cycle of greetings, conversations, and political performances waiting elsewhere. his pace was unhurried while his attention was fixed somewhere ahead when her voice reached him. his gaze shifted over one shoulder as he slowed before finally turning fully toward her. unlike many, morella kaelvorn never seemed interested in wasting words and he found that oddly refreshing. “lady kaelvorn.” the greeting came evenly accompanied by a slight inclination of his head. his eyes lingered on her for a moment, studying the familiar stillness she carried about her. there had always been something ghostlike about her presence. beric had never minded ghosts. at her request, the corner of his mouth moved faintly. “if i wasn't willing, i'd have made a far greater effort to avoid being found.” the observation carried the shape of dry humor before fading again. “you've gone through the trouble of stalking the halls for me.” a small pause followed, thoughtful rather than accusatory. “it would seem rude not to hear what earned such determination.”

Lenore grew still. Beric had phrased his observation with idle curiosity, but she knew better than to trust his calm. She knew exactly the sharpness that lingered beneath, had more than once needled it to the surface, played with it, courted it despite her better instincts. She did not hide her face, keeping her eyes on his, the blue edging into something deeper, less the ice of winter and more the mist rolling through the mountains—fleeting and unknowable. “Blood has been shed in pursuit of that throne.” Her chin inclined by a fraction. “All our lives forever changed by the event, no matter if we think ourselves above it.” For the first time in months, she remembered the warm, sticky liquid painting her skin, the wet slice of the knife, the Chosen’s bodies strewn like discarded offal. “Only a fool would avert their eye now, at this pivotal moment. So yes, I am watching carefully.” A beat, then the lie, phrased like an afterthought: “It’s all I can do.”

Her fingers tightened against the stone for a moment, but only a moment. Then a soft laugh escaped her, light, airy. “That’s not an answer, Beric,” Lenore began, eerily feeling as if she were treading darker waters, trying her best not to let the depths take her, even as she knew she chose the plunge. He would not master her. “Maybe I did,” she continued softly, her voice like watered silk. “Maybe I wanted you sick with want.” Her eyes met his, unblinking, while she leaned in just enough to close the distance without bridging the gap completely, as if the wolf’s teeth were of no concern to her. “Maybe I’m insulted by how you did not come to see me, after all you said to me in Vallarion.” Her breath wove between them. “Maybe I pined for you myself, all alone in those distant mountains.” A moment passed, and then she turned away with deliberate dismissal. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Please. You can do better than that."

His gaze never left her, not when she spoke of blood, nor when she spoke of fools, nor even when she offered that careful lie and dressed it in enough truth to make it difficult to separate one from the other. for a moment, silence settled between them once more. the warm heliophrian wind stirred the loose fabric of his sleeves, carrying distant music from somewhere below. “no,” he said at last, voice low and even. “i don't think that's all you can do.” his attention lingered on her fingers where they tightened briefly against the stone before relaxing again. “in fact, i suspect you're capable of considerably more than most people realize.” there was no flattery in the observation, if anything it sounded like recognition. then came the rest, the wanting, the pining, the insult. beric allowed every possibility to hang between them without rushing to catch a single one.

for the first time, something faintly thoughtful crossed his expression. “maybe,” the word arrived calmly. “though if that was your attempt at convincing me you've spent the last month longing dramatically from a mountain window, i fear you'll have to work harder.” the corner of his mouth curved slightly. “i've always found you capable of more convincing lies than that.” his gaze followed her as she turned away, dismissing him as though she had not spent the last several minutes doing the exact opposite. “you think i'm asking the wrong question,” a small pause followed as he stepped closer. hunter to his prey. “i don't particularly care whether you missed me, lenore.” quieter now as his hand lifted to coil a curl on his finger. “because for someone who insists none of this matters, you spend an awful lot of time trying to convince me otherwise.”

Each word was another arrowpoint delved deep into his flesh. Fate. Abandonment. Cowardice. Once more, she proved herself the better between the two of them. By all rights, the balm of her voice should have salved his fears instead of pulling at the fragile stitching that kept his composure together. “I know you would, Sera. You would never turn from a promise, no matter how much it might cost you to keep it.” His eyes remained on the hollow faces of the long-dead. His mind lingered on the dusted remains of all he'd once worshipped. “It is why I love you.” Warmth should have touched his voice, the carnelian of his eyes, as it had so often in her presence. Instead, his voice spoke as if grieving, and his gaze held the hue of cooled amber. “Even now, with what the world has taken from you, you hold onto hope. Your faith remains strong.” Nothing would break her spirit, he knew, not even him. She would endure. She would survive. She would come out stronger.

At last, he turned his face toward her, a careful mask replacing the man she knew. Beneath it, his heart slammed against his ribs in a manic rhythm. The realization descended like a hammer’s blow. He was a man of empty vows, a knight made of tin, who would choose a woman over his world, even if it burned—let alone that she might burn with it. He had coveted. He had taken what could never have belonged to him, for it was not for him to want such things, especially not her—she who was more precious to him than the stars and moon. His hand reached out again, his thumb stroking her cheek once. Selfishly, he would steal this last moment and safeguard it forevermore. A moment that lived on a single breath, the most precious one he would ever take. Then he stepped away. “I truly am sorry.”

The words struck harder than they should have. for a moment seraphyna simply stared at him because love was not something hiran had ever spoken of like this. not like a farewell, or like a eulogy spoken over something not yet dead. the heaviness in her chest deepened, grew even. his voice carried grief where warmth should have been and suddenly she hated it, hated the distance in it. hated the careful way he looked at her as though she were already becoming a memory. when he stepped away, instinct moved faster than thought. “no.” the word left her softly, breathlessly, as panic began to settle in. her hand caught the sleeve of his tunic before he could put more distance between them. for perhaps the first time since he had arrived, composure slipped. silver eyes searched his face desperately now, glossed with something dangerously close to tears. “hiran, stop.”

her grip tightened only slightly. as though she feared letting go would somehow allow him to disappear entirely. “what are you talking about?” the question came quieter this time, less patient and more frightened. because some terrible part of her already knew this conversation was no longer about promises, or hope, or philosophy. it was about them and she did not understand why. “why are you speaking to me as though something has already happened?” her voice faltered despite herself. “as though you've already decided something and i'm the last person being told.” the lantern light flickered across her features, illuminating the growing distress she could no longer entirely hide. her chest felt tight, every answer he gave seemed only to create more questions. seraphyna shook her head once. “you're frightening me.” the admission emerged barely above a whisper, honest in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. her gaze never left his. “please.” the word caught painfully in her throat. “tell me what you mean.”

Vaelor  smiles,  the  indentions  of  smile  lines  curving  in  his  cheeks.  As  he  does,  the  warmth  cuts  through  his  face,  the  lines  akin  to  a  hardened  stone  carved  by  a  mallet.  It  does  not  reach  far,  only  towards  the  edge  of  his  mouth,  where  the  grief  could  still  be  seen  under  each  moon.  " Few?  Hm   give  it  time. "  His  shoulders  are  broad  in  their  width,  and  Vaelor  hopes  the  frost  still  clings  to  his  skin.  Only  if  it  were  to  cool  him  in  this  heat,  to  unburden  the  oppressive  closing  fist  that  Heliophra  brought.  " People  always  do  find  their  voice  after  the  damage  is  done. "  For  they  were  both  council  members  and  heirs  of  a  vassal  house,  and  both  knew  the  indictments  the  Velkynar  could  bring  with  them.  Nuray  even  more  so  today,  with  the  burden  of  host  laid  across  her  shoulders.  A  mantle  that  brought  its  weight  and  one  that  was  not  worn  without  costs.  He  does  not  envy  her.  For  their  realm  still  wasn’t  safe,  fragile  like  a  cliff  finding  a  fracture  in  its  line.  And  with  it,  the  dead  still  fell  like  flies,  with  nothing  held  but  a  shadow  and  the  lack  of  honor  in  their  name.  " Still,  I  hope  our  Velkynars  have  the  sense  to  spare  you  with  most  of  their  grievances. " Breathed  kindly  as  the  commotion  around  them  rose  in  crescendo.  He  only  nods  at  the  comfort  she  held  in  her  own  hollow,  forgoing  his  own  words,  though  not  his  agreement.

But  as  the  conversation  dwindles  to  Drakathar,  Vaelor  thinks  that  even  the  safest  ground  has  edges  worth  watching.  He  does  not  reply  to  it,  but  nods  once  more.  And  the  serrated  peaks  flicker  in  front  of  him,  where  stone  could  be  trusted  unless  it  shifted,  where  the  mountain  learned  to  breathe  one's  name  as  they  walked  through  it.  Even  the  silence  there,  came  with  its  own  echo.  When  Vaelor  speaks,  he’s  direct.  " Drakathar  does  not  change.  It  endures  what  it  gets. "  Whether  it  were  snowstorm  or  hail,  treachery  or  loyalties,  it  mattered  little,  each  alike  would  fall  upon  the  Drakathar  soil  with  equal  indifference.  Still,  Vaelor  strives  to  suppress  a  knowing  smile, and he  listens  carefully,  his  salt  eyes  bound  to  her  gaze.  Eventually,  he  lets  the  silence  pass  before  he  speaks.  His  expression  steady,  composed,  the  stoicism  layered  upon  him  once  more.  " Hm.  Perhaps. "  He  starts  carefully.  " As  for  your  distinction.  "  A  breath.  " You  speak  as  though  there  are  two  paths. As  though  I  am  divided  between  two  loyalties.  Council  against  crown. In  truth,  and you know this as well as I do, that one  rarely  exists  without  the  other  speaking  over  it. " This  time,  Vaelor  lets  himself  shake  his  head,  slightly,  briefly.  His  jaw  just  short  of  twitching.  " The  council  has  a  way  of  concerning  itself  with  what  must  be  contained.  And  yet  it  continues  to  speak  as  though  it  is  the  same  institution  it  was  meant  to  be. "   Hue  of  voice  still  unwaveringly  moored.  Vaelor reckons that Nuray is bright enough to read between each line of his. " And  the  crown  the crown is in servitude to the protection of its realm. Yet it finds itself answering to institutions that no longer seem to share its real weight. "  He  speaks  more  softly  now.  " If  chosen,  I  intend  to  bring  change  to  that  weight. "  No  shift  in  his  limbs,  only  a  steady  gaze  upon  her.  " For  what  it’s  worth  my  ambition  lies  not  in  the  way  men  like  to  accuse  ambition  of  being. "

Nuray listened without interruption, her gaze remaining on him as he spoke. unlike many vaelor rarely wasted words which made them considerably more difficult to ignore when he chose to spend them. for a moment she said nothing, the noise of arriving guests continued around them, servants crossing the courtyard, wheels rolling over stone, lanternlight flickering against desert sandstone. somehow it all felt very distant compared to the conversation unfolding between them. “no,” she agreed at last, her voice calm. “they rarely exist separately for long.” a faint breath followed as her gaze drifted briefly toward the arriving procession before returning to him once more. “which is precisely why most sensible people avoid volunteering for both burdens at the same time.” the observation was delivered lightly enough to pass for humor.

her attention lingered upon him for a moment longer, thoughtful now. “change, it's become a very popular ambition lately.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly, though the expression never fully reached her eyes. “everyone wishes to change something. the council. the crown. the hollows. the world itself.” a small pause followed. “the difficult part has always been deciding which things survive the process.” for a moment her gaze shifted toward the banners moving gently above the courtyard, every hollow represented, every grievance, every ambition. then she looked back at him. “and no,” she continued more softly, “i've never believed your ambitions resemble the sort people whisper about in corridors.” there was no flattery in the statement. only truth. “if they did, i suspect i'd find them far easier to predict.” a faint trace of amusement touched her voice then. “though i'm not entirely certain whether that should reassure me.” her head inclined slightly. “or concern me.”

Onyx meets deep blue. Ásta knew of this man. Had lingered by the walk-ways that opened to the courtyard to catch a glimpse of him; had worried and hoped at the arrival of his carriage. They had never before exchanged a single word. “You—” They take a step back, straighten their back. “I didn’t ask—I mean! I did not mean that the way that it sounded,” Wings above! “I would never suspect—I would never even fathom the thought of you stalking me, lord Verathorm. That would be quite ridiculous, there wouldn’t be much to be caught.” The laugh that follows is half-forced, half-begging for him to allow it, if just to deliver them from the misery of such embarrassment. “And you did not ruin it, just… One cannot be too careful nowadays, can they?” They mutter, already wrought with grief, both past and borrowed.

They deliver him a small curtsy, and a smaller-even-if-bit-stiff smile. “Do you—Uh. Do you wish to keep listening to my performance? I can play a much lighter song. You must be wishing for some relaxation! Because of the... Because of the circumstances, I imagine…”

Beric's gaze lingered on them as the explanation unfolded, each attempt to correct the previous one somehow making the situation progressively worse. for a moment he said nothing. then the corner of his mouth moved faintly, amusement. “i'll consider myself relieved.” the reply came evenly. “being accused of lurking is one thing. being accused of stalking would be considerably more difficult to explain.” his attention drifted briefly toward the lyre before returning again. “though i suspect anyone determined enough could make a scandal out of either.” at the mention of caution, however, something quieter settled behind his gaze. “no,” he agreed after a moment. “they can't.”

his eyes wandered briefly toward the surrounding gardens before returning to asta once more, taking in the careful politeness, the obvious effort being spent recovering from the conversation's unfortunate beginning. for the first time, genuine amusement flickered briefly across his expression. “play whatever you intended to play before i arrived.” quieter now. “i've always found people choose the most honest songs when they don't know they're being listened to.”

A quiet curl touched her lips, as if he had delivered her exactly what she wanted. Him. His attention. His stubborn mouth. “Oh, Beric…” Lenore turned her head and graced him with a hint of ivory canine. “After all we've shared, I would never do you the discourtesy of attacking you from behind.” Her voice wove between them, soft and sealed with promise. “I would look you in the eye.” Faint notes carried along the wind, an echo of strings rising from down below. Her gaze returned to the terraces, watching the lanterns blink in the distance, as if the tune had already reached them and the audience held its breath to see who would move first. “Though not with something so common as a dagger.”

Placing her hands on the banister, Lenore leaned forward slightly, the faint breeze stirring the curls along the line of her throat. Below them, a stream of bodies passed in diffused shapes. High above, the current would not touch them—but they could yet reach one another. Though her gaze was averted, she could still feel him near, the heat of him pressing against the edges of her composure. “True power need not announce itself. To climb upon a pedestal is to make yourself visible, and to make yourself visible is to limit your movements.” A slight shrug, elegant, careless. “That is why, while their proxy sits the throne, the council operates behind closed doors.” Realization struck her then. Lenore drew her lower lip between her teeth. She was revealing far too many truths, yet she could not help answering him, defending herself from the accusation even as it struck some deeper chord within her. “Are you not already? Did you not just scale the walls to reach me?” Her tone was light, faintly mocking, as she added, “Or did you miss me that much?”

For the first time, something closer to genuine amusement touched beric's expression, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. “how reassuring.” his gaze lingered on her as she spoke, settling for a moment on the faint curve of her smile before drifting back toward the lanterns below. “i'd hate to think i had inspired cowardice.” the reply came calmly, absent of any real concern for the threat itself. at the mention of the council, however, his attention returned fully to her. he listened, allowing the words to settle between them. “perhaps.” he did not dismiss the observation, nor did he entirely agree with it. “though people spend so much time studying the throne that they forget to watch the ones circling it.” a small pause followed, thoughtful. his gaze drifted briefly toward the garden below before returning to her once more. “you included.” there was no accusation in the words. if anything, they sounded almost curious. as though he had noticed something and was waiting to see whether she would notice it too.

beric's eyes narrowed faintly, not in irritation, but in consideration, as though he were examining something from a different angle now. “missed you?” he repeated, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. “i don't recall saying that.” the wind shifted between them, carrying distant music from somewhere far below. for a moment he said nothing, only held her gaze with that same patient attentiveness. “though i find it interesting that your mind arrived there before mine did.” his head tilted slightly. “did you want me to miss you, little bird?” the question settled between them, lingering longer than it should have. not because he expected an answer, but because he wanted to watch what she did with it. his gaze remained steady upon hers, unhurried, predatory in the way wolves often appeared most dangerous when standing perfectly still. “or have i misunderstood?” quieter now, though no less deliberate. “because for someone who claims not to care for crowns, councils, or the people chasing either, you seem remarkably interested in where my attention rests.”

His touch stilled on her face. A shuddering breath left him, as if he had just been gutted. The grace she bestowed upon him was undeserved. This close, he could feel the warmth emanating from her skin. Her scent filled him, scraped him raw from the inside out. He had always known he loved her so dearly he might die of it, but now he learned what it was to burn in worship, to cast oneself upon a pyre and let lowly flesh be stripped from bone. True exaltation, he now realized, was never about pleasure. To have faith in something higher than oneself was to suffer. His eyes traced her features, retracing them over and over, as if to capture the memory, so he might preserve her in amber. If only he could. If only he could keep her away from the world, and for himself alone.

His hand dropped; he looked stricken. What a wicked thought. What an unworthy desire. He shamed her with his want. Shamed himself, his name, his vows. Hiran stepped away, running a hand through his hair. “Everything.” The word shattered the peace between them. He gritted his teeth. “Sera, I have to ask you something.” His eyes averted from her form, landing on a marble memorial. Dead faces surrounded them. Stone corpses stretched as far as the eye could see. “What do you believe is the greater sin: to hold onto a promise one can never keep, or to break one’s word before hope takes root?”

Seraphyna fell silent. for a moment, only the lantern light moved between them, flickering softly across pale stone and memorial faces carved into eternity. her gaze followed his briefly toward the statues before returning to him once more. whatever answer she had expected, it had not been this. the crease between her brows deepened faintly. she could feel the fracture beneath his words now. not the shape of it. not yet. but enough to know it was there. “neither is a simple thing,” she answered quietly. her voice carried no judgment. only thought. for a moment she lowered her eyes, considering the question with the same care she might have given a prayer. “but i think breaking one's word is the greater sin.” the admission came softly, without hesitation.

when her gaze lifted again, it settled fully upon him. “hope is not a kindness we should fear giving.” a small pause followed. the warm breeze stirred loose strands of silver hair across her shoulder. “sometimes promises cannot be kept through no fault of our own. sometimes circumstances change. sometimes fate is cruel.” there was something sad in that. something born from recent months. from scrolls reduced to ash. from homes lost overnight. from names now carved into stone around them. “but to abandon a promise before it is tested...” her voice softened further. “to decide for someone else that hope is not worth having...” seraphyna shook her head gently. “i do not think i could call that mercy, but cowardice draped in silk.” her gaze lingered on him with concern. searching. “if i gave someone my word, hiran, i would rather fail trying to keep it than surrender it before the day arrived.” a small silence settled between them.

Seen through another pair of eyes, perhaps they would have looked the perfect storybook picture: a maiden leaning over the balcony’s edge, a lord climbing up to meet her. But she was more thorn than rose, and he was more teeth than poetry. Lenore felt the pull as he approached, and her hand lifted on reflex—though whether to help him up or push him down, she could not say. In this sun-soaked heat that roused the senses, she felt her restraint loosen, like a creature that had tasted blood and wanted more. Whatever happened, ruination would soon follow, whether hers or his, for this throne held only one seat, and she would bury them both for Nocturnia’s sake if she had to.

Her hand lowered, and she merely stepped aside to make room for him, cocking her head, the fullness of her lips slipping into the guise of a smile. “I was doing you a favor, Beric. You seemed so very lost in thought.” Lenore clicked her tongue. “You should be more attentive to your surroundings.” Resting her elbow against the balcony, her head tilted in idle interest. “After all,” she said airily, “your unguarded back will soon be a most tempting target.” Her eyes glinted, though not with amusement—something sharper than that. “Though I must say, the news surprised me. I did not take you for a willing puppet.” Her dress billowed around her form, the silks gossamer and flowing, as if she had draped herself in mist; as if she had nothing to hide. “I never expected you to mistake their collar for a crown, pretty as it is.” The phrase left her lips in a sigh.

She contemplated him for one held moment, then turned her face back to the view of the terraces, as if dismissing him.

“What a shame… just as you'd become interesting.”

Beric listened without interruption. his gaze remained on her as she spoke, lingering on the smile that hid more teeth than warmth. the warning about his back. the puppet. the collar. all of it offered with the same effortless elegance people often mistook for harmlessness. for a moment, silence stretched between them. then his eyes drifted briefly toward the shattered remains of the goblet below. “i appreciate your concern,” he said at last, voice low and even. “though at present, the only dagger i'm particularly concerned about seems to belong to you.” the corner of his mouth curved faintly, not with amusement, but with recognition. his attention returned fully to her. measured. “as for the council,” he continued, “i find it interesting how quickly everyone decided they understood my reasons.” a small pause followed. “especially the people who never bothered asking.”

the warm heliophrian wind stirred between them, carrying distant music from somewhere below. “you call it a collar.” his gaze held hers. unwavering. “perhaps because that's what a crown would feel like on your neck.” there was no cruelty in the observation. which somehow made it worse. only quiet curiosity. the sort a wolf might display before deciding whether something was prey. “personally, i've never found much use in letting other people tell me what my choices mean.” his eyes drifted briefly toward the city beyond the terraces before returning to her once more. “but do tell me, lenore.” the question arrived softly yet dangerously. “if you're so certain i'm dancing to someone else's tune... why does that disappoint you?” for the first time, something almost resembling amusement touched his expression. “because from where i'm standing, you seem far more offended by the fact that is not your tune i chose to dance to.”

with these developments, amarei, who had long learned to shape shadows to her purpose, had lost the familiar safety of obscurity. in heliophra, it appeared, she would learn to take space within metaphorical light yet -- but marble and starlight did not dazzle. the soft lull of bardsong and threads of light-hearted conversation did not fool her; even the most mesmerising of courts could be fashioned into a battleground. that said, amarei did so appreciate when polish veiled intent. she had never had any use for crudeness.

Nuray's gaze lingered upon her for a moment longer than politeness strictly required. not rudely but thoughtfully. house velwyrn had become increasingly difficult to ignore these past months. whether that had been intention or consequence remained a matter of debate. nuray suspected the answer lay somewhere between the two. “you are kind to say so,” she replied smoothly. the compliment was accepted without false modesty, though neither did she appear particularly dazzled by it. years spent hosting nobles had taught her that praise often revealed as much about the speaker as it did the subject.

her gaze drifted briefly toward the keep rising behind them, lantern light dancing across pale stone and carved archways before returning once more to amarei. “heliophra has always inspired stories.” a faint pause followed. “whether they are flattering tends to depend entirely on who is telling them.”the corner of her mouth curved slightly at that. around them, another group of arrivals crossed the courtyard, servants moving with practiced precision to guide them toward their chambers. for a moment nuray watched them pass before returning her attention fully to the woman before her. “i imagine you understand that better than most.” the observation was offered lightly. but deliberately. “some houses spend generations preserving their place in history.” her head tilted slightly. “others seem to find themselves becoming history rather quickly.” not accusation, not quite praise either. merely recognition.

a  rush  of  adrenaline  had  been  growing  in  his  chest  since  he'd  last  seen  his  beloved  heir  .  he'd  felt  heartache  caused  by  none  other  than  himself  ,  he'd  felt  lost  and  depraved  of  valkan's  touch  so  long  he  wondered  if  he  would  succumb  to  nothing  as  soon  as  he'd  catch  his  hues  .  anticipation  ,  angst  ,  he  was  in  truth  terrified  to  see  him  once  more  .  terrified  and  thrilled  all  at  once  at  gazing  upon  the  man  who  made  his  heart  ache  .  he'd  headed  for  his  quarters  as  soon  as  he'd  been  brave  enough  to  go  ,  only  to  be  told  the  heir  of  thurin  keep  had  left  his  chambers  to  explore  their  newfound  location  .

the  humid  air  made  his  thin  linen  shirt  cling  to  his  torso  .  his  nerves  getting  the  better  of  him  as  the  temperature  wasn't  the  only  thing  making  him  sweat  .  he  searched  for  far  too  long  ,  halfway  giving  up  until  he  saw  the  onyx  curls  and  tall  frame  seated  ,  contemplating  something  .  did  he  still  love  him  ?  did  he  hate  him  ?  had  he  truly  destroyed  them  back  in  celembron  ?  he  hesitated  as  he  stood  there  ,  wondering  if  he  should  approach  .  yes  ,  he'd  come  this  far  ,  yes  he  wanted  to  see  him  ,  touch  him  ,  to  gaze  upon  him  up  close  .  if  he'd  let  him  .  his  words  surprised  him  and  his  own  emerald  orbs  widened  with  the  words  .  he  didn't  disappoint  anyone  ,  he  was  the  one  who  did  that  ,  the  one  who  laid  their  love  bare  and  tried  to  destroy  it  with  knife  and  blade  .

For a moment, valkan said nothing. his gaze remained fixed on lathander, studying him with a quiet stillness that felt very different from the ease that had once existed between them. the month apart had not dulled anything. if anything, distance had only preserved the sharp edges exactly as they were. annoying. the part of him that had missed him most. the part of him that was still angry. he had spent weeks deciding which feeling deserved his attention more. he had yet to reach a conclusion. “have i been well?” the question came quietly at first, almost thoughtful. his eyes drifted away from lathander then, settling somewhere beyond the garden paths once more. “that's left to interpertation,” the dryness in his voice returned, though it lacked its usual ease.

at the question that followed, a faint breath escaped him through his nose. not amusement. not quite. “i've been alive.” which was not the same answer. and they both knew it. his fingers tightened briefly around the stem of the glass before relaxing again. only then did he finally look at him properly. really look at him. taking in the nervousness, the hesitation, the words that seemed to stumble where they once never had. it should have softened him. instead it only made the memory worse. the memory of celembron. of everything lathander had said. of everything valkan had been forced to hear. “and you?” his voice remained even. controlled. careful. “did the last month bring you whatever it was you were looking for?” a small silence followed. then, quieter still, “because i've spent most of mine trying to understand what exactly i was supposed to do with what you left me with.”

This  time,  Marya  does  not  mimic  his  gaze,  does  not  imitate  the  closing  of  one’s  limb  to  another.  Instead,  she  simply  stands  there,  washing  her  eyes  over  the  width  of  his  frame.  " It  would  appear  so,  for  most  people  tire  far  too  easily. "  Never  her.  For  a  killer  never  abandoned  their  lust  for  blood.  It  was  a  hunger  she  felt  near  the  stone  in  her  stomach,  where  each  and  every  single  moral  of  hers  slipped  into  a  descent.  And  whatever  lived  in  her,  it  spoke  in  its  own  tongue,  thin  and  cutthroat.  " It  is  a  common  thing,  where  attachments  turn  into  liabilities  when  they  stay  unmanaged. "  This  time,  Marya  closes  the  gap  between  them,  the  scenery  around  them  only  darkening  despite  the  glittering  gems  in  the  sky.  She  felt  closer  to  it  the  more  she  stood  here,  on  the  highest  point  in  the  tower,  with  the  ether  on  her  tongue  turning  metallic  as  the  stardust  in  the  air  brightened.

A  huff  of  breath,  the  motion  succumbing  into  a  half  laugh  that  lacked  all  its  grace.  " The  fault  lies  not  with  the  sky  of  lovers,  nor  with  the  poet,  I believe  it  lies  in  allowing  any  of  them  the  illusion  that  they  matter. "  No  living  thing  on  the  earth  would  matter  more  to  her  than  the  dead.  Perhaps her Pater, but even he would understand that her faith took precedence above all. Marya  walks  even  closer,  her  hands  in  front  of  her  before  she  decides  to  loosen  them,  and  entwine  them  behind  her  spine.  If  one  couldn’t  see  her  hands,  one  might  wonder  what  could  be  held  in  her  fist.  " The  stars  that  I  like  to  keep    you  see,  they  do  not  talk  back.  They  do  not  guide  either.  They  stay  where  I  put  them. "  For  here  the  deathling  comes  again  with  riddles.  Her  own  indulgence  to  her  work, as  such  worked  her  mind,  arranged  like  bones  set  into  a  pattern  only  she  could  discern.  A  tilt  of  her  head,  and  a  question  offered  to  him.   " But  how  curious  you  made  me,  where  would  you  like  the  stars  to  guide  you? " Voice shrill and playful.

Valkan's gaze remained on her as she approached, though nothing in his posture shifted to meet her. he simply watched, quiet and measured beneath the moonlight, as though deciding whether her words were philosophy or warning. perhaps with her they were the same thing. “attachments become liabilities when they're unmanaged,” he repeated thoughtfully. the corner of his mouth curved faintly. he had learned that very thing himself lately “that sounds like something a person tells themselves shortly before becoming attached anyway.” his attention drifted briefly toward the stars overhead once more before returning to her. there was something strange about the conversation. not unpleasant. merely unusual. as though they were discussing entirely different things while somehow arriving at the same place.

at her declaration about stars that neither spoke nor guided, the faint amusement in his expression deepened slightly. “those sound considerably less like stars and considerably more like possessions.” the observation came calmly, absent of judgment. a small silence settled between them. cold wind moved through the terrace once more, stirring dark strands of hair away from his face as he considered her question. where would he like the stars to guide him? for a moment he looked beyond her, toward the distant darkness stretched beyond heliophra's walls. “nowhere.” the answer arrived simply. honestly. his gaze returned to her afterward. “i've never been particularly interested in being led.” a faint pause followed. “guidance implies trust. trust implies surrendering some measure of control.” the corner of his mouth twitched. “i've never excelled at either.” for the first time his eyes lifted fully toward the sky above them. toward the countless lights neither of them could reach. “but if they insist on pointing somewhere,” he added more quietly, “i suppose i'd settle for warning me where not to go.” the faint dryness returned then. “which, admittedly, would have saved me a considerable amount of trouble over the years.”

His voice had died in his throat. He could not bring himself to move either, captured as he was by the sight. Her locks were wreathed in an aureole of light, her skin seemingly spun by the hands of saints, though he could not say whether she was lit from within or without. Not when her image seemed to burn him by its sheer presence. Hiran thought of the dream again, as he had every night since—how she had crumbled in his arms, like an effigy worn away by the hand of time. She, whom he knew was immortal in name only; that knowledge was his greatest curse.

Hiran swallowed, grief lodged in his chest like a blade, the flesh grown around it until its weight could no longer be separated from him.

What was he doing? What had come over him? She was his succor and shelter, yet now, when those eyes fell upon him, he felt trapped. Hiran’s brow lowered, a tight line set to his mouth. Love beat inside his chest, painfully so. Love drowned him. He could not breathe. He could not—

He forced the air into his lungs and stepped forward. “My heart,” he said, his voice thick. “How I’ve missed you.” Hiran tried to shake off the spell, telling himself the same thing he had since his return to Solari Sanctum. She was his destiny, meant for him; she was safest by his side. No harm would come to her if he was near. It could not. It could not. It could not—

Hiran reached out with trembling fingertips, tracing the smooth skin of her cheek. “I’m sorry.” For I will fail you. I will lose you. Whether by my own hand or another’s, you will be cleaved from my side.

Seraphyna’s expression softened the moment his hand touched her cheek, but the apology drew a faint crease between her brows. confusion. genuine and immediate. for a moment she simply looked at him, silver eyes searching his face as though the answer might already be written there. slowly, her hand lifted to cover his where it rested against her skin. “sorry?” the word came quietly. carefully. as if she feared she had misunderstood him. her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles before stilling. “for what?” there was no accusation in the question. no demand. only bewilderment. she could see the grief in him. the exhaustion. whatever burden he had carried into the garden tonight. but none of it explained the apology.

none of it explained why he looked at her as though he had already failed her somehow. “hiran.” his name was spoken softly. fondly. the way one might speak to someone standing too close to the edge of a thought they should not be carrying alone. “what are you apologizing for?” her gaze never left his. steady. patient. and quietly concerned. for a fleeting moment the memorial, the lanterns, even the grief surrounding them seemed to fade from her attention entirely. there was only him. and the strange sorrow behind a word she could not understand, and that growing pit in her stomach she kept trying to push away.