[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZPETHbP.png[/img] Collab between [@The Muse] and [@c3p-0h] [sub]Location: The Royal Residence[/sub] [i][h1]Part VIII[/h1][/i] [hr][/center] Upstairs, in the cold hush of his darkened room, Flynn crossed to where his sword leaned against a wall—the dark scabbard worn from years of use. With practiced movements, he fastened the belt around his waist. It was another ritual now, muscle memory. The Lunarians might have claimed peace, but their actions betrayed them, and did little to make him feel safe in their presence. But beyond that—he hadn’t conducted a blight-born interview unarmed since the day he’d started harboring them. Most of the time, Orion had been there too—made into a weapon himself. But if Orion wasn’t there… Well, the blade at least gave him a tangible sense of defense. Belt secured, sword in place, he made his way back downstairs. He slowed as he reached the bottom, careful to keep his steps light. At the threshold again, he stopped for a second time. Amaya hadn’t moved. He leaned into the frame, one shoulder braced against the wood, arms crossed. And for a while, he just stood there—watching her, letting the fire fill the silence. There was no need to wake her. The guards would need time to deliver the summons to every new blight-born they could find and ready their horses. She could sleep. They had time. Flynn’s eyes lingered on her face, tracing the soft curve of her lips. That quiet, stubborn ache in his chest burrowed deeper the longer he looked. Louder. Wilder. Pulling at him like a restless tide, begging him to go to her. He wanted to. He wanted to slip off her shoes, shed his own. Slide behind her and wrap an arm around her waist. Let her lean into him. Let sleep take them both. But the thought stopped him cold. That was what [i]he[/i] wanted. And he’d wanted—and received—enough for a lifetime, hadn’t he? So instead, Flynn let his head fall gently against the frame. His eyes slid shut as he drew in a slow breath, steadying himself against the ache twisting jaggedly around his heart. He’d wait like this, quiet and still, and let her rest. He could give her that. She deserved that much, at least. It was several minutes that – of soft breathing, and only the crackle of fire crossing the distance between them. Of Amaya, peaceful but alone. Of Flynn, standing quiet sentinel in the doorway. The fire snapped loudly, a crack of sound that commanded the room. Amaya’s eyes shot open, muscles tensing as adrenaline shot through her veins like foreign blood. Her gaze darted around the room as she searched for a threat and fought through the fog to reorient herself. Home. The couch. The fire. Flynn. His eyes were open too. He’d straightened where he’d slouched against the doorframe, watching quietly as she gathered herself. Amaya closed her eyes again, trying to steady herself as fear slowly ebbed away and embarrassment took its place. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and her breath was still too quick, but she could slow them. She just… she needed time. When her eyes opened again, they found him first – too far away. Too close to hide from. Her fingers curled, testing the stiffness of her muscles. She pulled her gaze away from him to take in the ceiling and walls, as had become routine whenever she woke up now. [color=d15e5e]“How long was I asleep for?”[/color] she finally asked when she looked to him again. She glanced over him – at the sword on his hip. He hadn’t worn it this morning. Something new and unpleasant swirled in her mind – the thought that perhaps he’d gone without her, after all. [color=337d71]“Not long. Maybe…”[/color] Flynn glanced toward the window, trying to count the minutes he’d also lost in the depths of his own mind. [color=337d71]“Fifteen minutes, or so.”[/color] She let out a small breath, some of the tension leaving her. Looking back at the fire and its lively embers, Amaya spent another moment trying to calm her body – to remind herself that danger lurked, yes, but not [i]here.[/i] Not right now. She glanced back at Flynn, tall, and commanding, and distant. The silence stretched to fill the space between them. Amaya was still curled on the couch like a child. It took another moment to convince herself to move. Looking down, Amaya slowly righted herself on the couch, slipping the blanket off of her shoulders and beginning to fold it, if only for something to do – some tangible way to put herself together. The loss of the blanket meant the warmth left her body a little quicker, but Amaya wasn’t frozen anymore, at least. The fire and fabric had done their job and returned her to a more tolerable, familiar cold. [color=d15e5e]“I’m sorry,”[/color] she said as she worked, eyes trained on the fabric – how ridiculous that [i]now[/i] was when those words finally managed to dislodge from her throat. [color=d15e5e]“If you were waiting for me.”[/color] Far away. Across the room. Out of reach. Flynn’s brows pulled together, a flicker of confusion in his expression. [color=337d71]“There’s nothing to apologize for,”[/color] he said, eyes settling on her again. [color=337d71]“We have some time. I thought I’d let you rest while you could, is all.”[/color] After a brief pause, he finally willed his feet to move and pushed off the doorway to cross the distance between them. [color=337d71]“Besides, you looked beautifully peaceful there—again.”[/color] The faintest smile touched his lips, recalling the way she’d looked tucked against his chest. Her hands stilled for just a moment, the corner of the blanket slipping out of her fingers as she tried to align it with its partner. Her cheeks darkened the slightest bit as she kept her eyes focused on the blanket and continued folding. All the while, he commanded her attention as he grew ever closer. [color=337d71]“Far be it from me to take that from you.”[/color] As he reached her side, Flynn extended a hand to help her up. [color=337d71]"The guards should have the horses out front any minute. Figured we’ve walked across town enough for one day."[/color] Amaya finally looked up at him, and the gentle expression on his face. He’d done most of the work – moved to her, reached for her. All she had to do was cross the little distance that was left. Hardly anything, really. The fire cast half his face in a warm glow, turned towards her as he was. Amaya glanced at the fireplace, the embers still dancing merrily as they bathed her in their light. Blanket folded, Amaya draped it back over the edge of the couch – like she’d never disturbed it at all. Her fingers drifted over the fabric, hesitating a moment. Then she slipped her hand in Flynn’s and felt the warmth of him, his calluses, the familiar grip, as he helped her to her feet. Standing together, the space between their bodies suddenly felt too narrow. His scent and warmth washed over her as she tilted her head to look up at him. He was close in a way that brought heat to the surface of her skin instead of ice, her pulse quickening with something that wasn’t quite fear. They’d been touching in some form or another for most of the morning, but somehow, standing together alone in this room, his hand curled around hers, patient and careful as he waited for her… She was learning to recognize this feeling, she realized. She’d felt it this morning, when she’d woken to find him sitting over her. Last night, as he’d offered her more than she’d ever dreamed and she’d pushed herself towards him like the tide. Yesterday, when he’d called her [i]his[/i], just before he’d kissed her for the first time. She knew how to put a stop to the feeling that danced through her – how to create the safety of distance again. Amaya didn’t pull her hand away. [color=d15e5e]“Perhaps the next town you build could be smaller,”[/color] she said, trying to distract herself – distract [i]him,[/i] before he could look too closely at her and measure the effect he had. Amaya was quite pleased that her voice was steady, even if it was soft as the crackling fire. Part of her, the part that wasn’t focused on the feel of his hand or the green of his eyes, tried to think when the last time she’d ridden a horse was. Hopefully muscle memory would kick in. [color=d15e5e]“Or have smoother roads.”[/color] Flynn’s smile grew at her suggestions, a quiet breath of laughter escaping as he held her hand. The small space between them felt too charged. That familiar ache stirred again, taut inside his chest. The urge to pull her into him, to silence her with his mouth on hers, burned hot beneath his skin. [color=337d71]“Oh? Not to your liking, Princess?”[/color] he asked instead, lifting a brow as he looked down at her, eyes gleaming. His full attention had narrowed to her—the rest of the world falling away. Her chin raised slightly, proud and proper as she held his gaze. All the while she felt the weight of his keen focus, holding her in place and singing through her nerves. [color=337d71]“My deepest apologies.”[/color] He stepped back just enough to give her space, though he didn’t let go of her hand. With theatrical flair, he dipped into a low, overly formal and exaggerated bow. There was a soft, startled huff, almost a laugh, as she raised her free hand to hide her smile with her knuckles. But there was an amused glint in her eye, her eyebrow lifting – a dark tinge to her cheeks. [color=337d71]“Perhaps next time I’ll carry you.”[/color] He teased as he rose to his full height again. [color=337d71]“Spare you the rough roads I’ve so carelessly built.”[/color] He stayed close enough to feel her warmth, but didn’t quite close the distance. [color=337d71]“Just say the word.”[/color] Something sparked in her at his words – another offer, as he watched and waited for her. The distance between them was a tangible thing, more intolerable with each passing breath. [color=d15e5e]“A horse will do for now, thank you,”[/color] she said primly as her hand lowered. She’d schooled her expression quickly, though that look in her eye remained. [color=d15e5e]“Clearly we cause enough of a scene as it is.”[/color] But her voice was soft and light, despite the memory of the Moon Temple it conjured. It would’ve surprised Amaya, if she weren’t so distracted by that word – [i]we.[/i] Her heart fluttered in her chest as she felt that pull, that tension, the flurry of nerves under her skin that demanded action, a storm waiting to be unleashed. Looking up at Flynn, his eyes dark and deep as he looked back, she thought that perhaps this storm… it wouldn’t be awful to let this one swallow her whole. Her lips parted slightly but she didn’t have anything to say. All the words had been chased from her mind. He was so close – she’d barely have to move at all. And he was [i]warm[/i]. Warmer than any blanket. Even without him wrapped around her, Amaya could feel it, pulling her in. Distance was an illusion. He already had her. [color=d15e5e]“You’re far too tall.”[/color] It was a thoughtless, whispered observation as she looked up at him, gaze flickering over his face – his eyes – his lips. Her hand slid more securely around his, tying her to him, as she found herself pulled by his gravity. Flynn huffed a soft laugh, his eyes drifting inevitably to her lips. He [i]was[/i] too tall. And she was too short for him to move without thought. Reaching her would take deliberate intention, and he’d have to push past the hesitation he was barely holding at bay. Bit by bit, the desperate grip he’d held on restraint slipped as she remained in place. He’d expected her to retreat by now. To meet him with cold dismissal and place distance between them. Not this… playful banter. Soft and close, light and warm. She was far too near. And still too far away. Despite everything he’d told himself, his own selfish, traitorous heart only wanted. And wanted. And [i]wanted[/i]. [color=337d71]“I could kneel, if it’d help.”[/color] he smirked, his voice low, the look in his eyes anything but casual. Amaya’s gaze sharpened as he teased her, something bright and challenging rising to meet him. He didn’t move, but the urge to close the final inches between them clawed just beneath the surface. He kept his hand in hers like a tether, an anchor to stop himself from reaching. Lest his hands go searching in all the places [i]he[/i] wanted. Lest they find the curve of her waist, lift her against him, feel her legs wrap around his hips and bring her mouth to his instead. [color=d15e5e]“You could —”[/color] A loud knock at the door cut her off. Amaya startled, the world snapping back into place as she stepped back with wide eyes, her cheeks warm and her breath quick. Flynn’s eyes closed for a brief second, a flicker of frustration tightening his features, as if the world had just torn something precious from his hands. His jaw flexed with the effort not to curse. [color=fa8072]“Your Highness,”[/color] called a guard, muffled from behind their front door, [color=fa8072]“the horses are ready.”[/color] When Flynn opened his eyes again, they found hers immediately. He didn’t glance toward the door. The rest of the world could wait. His attention was wholly hers—not quite willing to let the moment die just yet. She’d stepped back, but it didn’t matter. Her hand was still in his, and the heated tension of the thread that bound him to her hadn't gone anywhere. Before she could find the clarity to create more distance, he drew her back to him. His free hand slid around her waist, guiding her in until her body rested lightly against his. She was quiet, but for the soft gasp that escaped her – still, except how he moved her. He leaned in until his lips hovered just above hers—close enough to kiss her. But he stopped short. Didn’t move. Holding fast to the last shred of restraint he had left. Her breath drifted over his skin, faint and warm. [color=337d71]“I could do a lot of things,”[/color] he said, voice low and rough, like they still had all the time in the world. Her eyes fluttered closed, the shallow rise and fall of her chest stuttering out of tempo. He let the words hang between them for a beat, his mouth hovered above hers as he weighed whether or not he should close the distance. It felt almost painful not to. But somewhere in the haze of his mind, he reminded himself of all his endless wants. He could feel [i]something[/i] between them, could see it in the way she’d looked at him. But how much of it was his own delusion, built solely from his own desires. And were they too loud to truly feel hers? A faint, rueful smile pulled at his lips as he murmured, [color=337d71]“But hold that thought. I want to hear your ideas, too.”[/color] Slowly, he eased back just enough to meet her gaze more clearly. [color=337d71]“We should probably go.”[/color] It was like he’d taken all the air in her lungs with him. Blinking rapidly, Amaya tried to reorient herself in the world – the one not made up entirely of Flynn, his voice threading through her, his touch and scent surrounding her, his lips close enough that Amaya could feel the memory of them against her own, her hands, her neck – And in memories not yet made, Amaya could feel those lips on all the places they hadn’t been. The air was cold around her. She was too warm. Wide eyed and breathless (despite the fact that, frustratingly – thankfully? – nothing had [i]happened)[/i] Amaya refocused on Flynn. Her hand, the one not wrapped up in his, had found the side of his shoulder at some point to keep herself steady. His arm looped around her waist to keep her close – but he held her so lightly. He was solid against her back, encircling her, but his grip was gentle and undemanding. Amaya could’ve stepped away from him. Except she couldn’t. His eyes were dark and fathomless as they looked down at her, keeping her in place more surely than any touch. There was hunger there as he took in the sight of her, too unguarded – and [i]smugness[/i]. Amaya tried to remember why that mattered. She tried to grasp at anything at all, to anchor her scattered, frantic, dizzy mind. But there was only Flynn. [color=d15e5e]“When we return,”[/color] she breathed out, almost to herself. She tried to swallow before continuing, soft and unsteady, [color=d15e5e]“Perhaps I’ll have better ideas.”[/color] Because it seemed like right now, wrapped up in him, she only had bad ones. Flynn smirked, his gaze still locked on hers. [color=337d71]“One can only hope,”[/color] he murmured, voice dipped low, purring with quiet confidence. For a moment, he entertained the thought of not leaving. His fingers shifted along her waist, slipping lower, a promise forming in his posture as he— Another knock. A muffled, hesitant voice through the door. [color=fa8072]“Sire?”[/color] Flynn’s hand stilled as he finally peeled his gaze away from her, up toward the ceiling. The world came back too fast. His endless, relentless list of obligations. Duty snapped back into focus. Reluctantly, he stepped back, the hand at her waist falling away. But the one laced in hers remained. He didn’t speak. Just gave her one last look—a glance that held everything he was choosing not to act on. Her eyes were wide and bright, and just as charged. The chill in the air met him like a wall, biting against the place she’d been pressed to him. An empty space now, already missed, but he quietly guided them toward the front door regardless. As they neared, it opened before they could reach it. The guard froze in the doorframe, blinking in surprise. [color=fa8072]“Oh—”[/color] he faltered, brown eyes bouncing between the Prince and Princess. [color=fa8072]“Apologies. I wasn’t sure you’d heard me.”[/color] He dipped his head, then stepped aside to hold the door open. [color=fa8072]“The horses are ready for you.”[/color] [color=337d71]“Thank you,”[/color] Flynn said simply, giving him a small nod.