[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZPETHbP.png[/img] Collab between [@The Muse] and [@c3p-0h] [sub]Location: Outside the Jail[/sub] [i][h1]Part II[/h1][/i] [hr][/center] Snow fell in the empty space between them. The distance was short. They stood closely enough together that Amaya had to crane her neck to look up at him — closely enough that she could feel the edge of his warmth, radiating out from him even in this storm she’d wrapped around herself. The cold made her muscles stiff and aching. But she couldn’t look away from him. She could still feel the burn of his hand around her wrist, a shock of heat cutting through her wrath. Images flashed in her mind — she imagined turning away from him and calling [i]Knight Kain[/i] outside again. Amaya could feel the wicked blades her magic would make, even now tearing at the inside of her, restless and eager. They would pierce through her skin, her wrath made solid. They would tear through him, her frozen blood mixing with his as Amaya screamed in rage. And as her attacker, her [i]tormentor[/i] died, it wasn’t Kain’s face that looked back at her. It was her father’s. Ice crept through her. Amaya ripped her eyes away from Flynn’s, gaze unfocusing against his chest. Shadowed green and gold filled her vision. The winter world blurred around her. Another tear slipped down her face, following jagged, frozen tracks. [color=d15e5e]“I…”[/color] Her voice was a pale breath, wrapped in inescapable cold. It was small — [i]she[/i] was small, trembling and helpless against the pull of her own magic. Her emotions. She was a stunted creature of pain and grief and [i]anger.[/i] Frost pierced her from the inside out. Amaya could feel the weight of it all pressing against her, burying her, suffocating her. She thought maybe she was imagining the ghost of Flynn’s warmth — a treacherous, hurtful thing. [color=d15e5e]“Please, Flynn,”[/color] she whispered. She still couldn’t look at him. The words tore slowly against her throat as she tried to force them out. [color=d15e5e]“Be very careful what promises you make to me.”[/color] He offered so many — spoke them easily, as if that act alone made them true. That her father would never touch her again. That she wouldn’t live with the fear and torment that had defined so much of her life. That he would be a partner, rather than a keeper. That he was hers. [i]Forever.[/i] Each one was another cord tangling tightly around her heart. If he pulled too tightly — if Amaya let him wrap himself around her, if he melted her ice and left her with nothing but shattered walls and burning heat, if she raged and bit and pushed until she finally gave him enough reasons to [i]leave[/i] — The tear completed its slow path down her cheek, pooling against her jaw. Its trail glittered over the lines of ice against her ashen, bloodless skin. [color=337d71]“Amaya…”[/color] His voice was steady only by pure force of will. A beat passed as he braced himself—holding together the pieces of the dam she chipped away at with each trembling word and crystalline tear. The storm she’d summoned bit into his skin, sinking past layers of clothing, but the cold wasn’t causing the ache that rippled through him. His gaze remained fixed on her face, watching snow gather in the dark strands of her hair. His hands yearned to close the distance, but he kept still, as if any sudden movement might shatter them both. [color=337d71]“I’ll die trying to make sure you never live like that again. I promise you that.”[/color] His words sank into her frigid skin, her aching muscles, burrowing deeper like there was nothing that could keep them from reaching her heart. She let out a shuddering breath as the teardrop, unfrozen, finally fell to the ground. Around them, the four Aurelian knights stood silently, spread out in a loose half-circle, watching and listening. The brown-eyed guard was the first to lift his gaze from Amaya, scanning each of his comrades. One by one, their eyes flicked between Flynn and Amaya, then to each other—an unspoken understanding passing between them. The soft clang of shifting metal cut through the air as they lowered themselves to one knee, careful not to slip on the ice that had solidified beneath their boots. Amaya flinched at the muffled sound of steel — glinting armor and swords in their scabbards, the familiar crunch of soldiers stepping through snow. The sounds jolted through her and Amaya spun, brushing against Flynn with the movement. [i]Warmth[/i]. She barely registered it. Didn’t think to pull away. Instinctively, Flynn’s hand reached out, hovering just behind her back—poised to steady her. But before making contact, he hesitated, and dropped his hand back to his side. Amaya’s frost coated mind was too frantic as she blinked rapidly to see — Flynn’s guards, Aurelian seals emblazoned on their golden armor. Heads bowed, their voices came firmly in unison: [color=FA8072]“By oath and honor, we are your sword and shield.”[/color] Amaya’s voice died in her throat. Her swirl of thoughts and emotions and magic stilled. She could only stare at the four men at the edge of her storm, kneeling. To [i]her.[/i] The moment stretched. All she could do was stare, awestruck, as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The guards didn’t move. The snow still fell — but it wasn’t quite so frenzied as it spun through the air. It dusted against their shining armor, small snowdrifts growing in piles on their shoulders and bowed heads. Ice still crept beneath them, expanding outwards. Crystals climbed, edge by edge, along the bottom of their boots. Amaya halted it with a breath. She stared at the ice, now still. Her lips parted in stunned silence as she waited for it to move again, to creep out of her control and build and grow. But it didn’t. There was no frenzied pull, no tendrils lashing against her grip. The ice was still there though — still coating the courtyard and flurrying around her, even if it’d slowed. It still claimed her hands, her cheeks, every fault and risk and shameful [i]failure[/i] she represented on full display. And still the guards bowed to her. Still, they didn’t move. Flynn, his warmth, his solidity against her back, didn’t say a word. There were no more promises or commands. [i]They were waiting for her.[/i] The realization cascaded through her. Something surged, overwhelming and irrefutable as the tide. Another tear slipped down her face. It tripped and flowed over trails of ice, finding the curve of her jaw. Amaya had always understood how to play a role. It’d been just minutes ago that another had kneeled before her, and she’d slipped into what was expected — what was necessary to hide and protect herself, to keep him at arms length but appeased. But all her careful words failed her now. There was nothing to hide behind, no mask to slip into place — not when they’d seen her unravel and known the storm she carried like a second heartbeat. Not when Flynn was still against her back. Her lips parted. No sound came out. She couldn’t speak, her own nerves damming her throat. Doubts flashed through her mind — that this was simply a display, that they would eventually regret this, that she was too small and stunted for whatever they hoped of her now. A mask was all that Amaya was meant for, and that’d been stripped away. …What was left? As if taking them in for the first time, Flynn’s gaze swept over the knights. He’d heard those words—[i]by oath and honor[/i]—countless times before, but never directed at anyone outside of Aurelian royalty. He hadn’t ordered the vow, yet they’d sworn it to her all the same. Given it freely. What he saw in their faces wasn’t blind obedience, but choice. A quiet, deliberate decision to follow his lead and stand for Amaya as passionately as they would for their own. To lay down their lives for her. To place their faith in a fragile bond still being forged between two leaders born worlds apart. Amaya took in a slow, stuttering breath. The guard directly in front breathed out in time with her, a small cloud drifting into the night air. Her voice was frail under the weight of the first true authority she’d ever held. [color=d15e5e]“Rise.”[/color] As they stood, their attention lingered on Amaya for a few heartbeats before sliding back to Flynn. He met the brown-eyed guard’s stare and gave a subtle nod—a silent thank you, his eyes heavy with gratitude he did not yet know how to voice. His gaze shifted back to Amaya. Her cold form was within reach. Close enough to draw into his arms, if he only dared to move. The urge clawed at him, tightening sharply in his chest, causing a single finger to twitch involuntarily at his side. But he held fast. Her earlier words bound him as surely as chains. And yet the overwhelming need to be near her burned just as fiercely. The two warred within him, heat and ice locked in stalemate. And he stood suspended between them, trapped in her gravity—utterly frozen. When he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. [color=337d71]“What is your choice, Amaya?”[/color] Her eyes fluttered shut. His voice was the same — she was back on that couch, surrounded by him, holding herself so still against him, as if to move would be to risk shattering. Flynn’s voice brushed like the ocean breeze along her skin. Close, quiet, it narrowed her world to just the space between them, as he whispered… [i][color=337d71]“Stay.”[/color][/i] A plea. An offering. A hand, warm and callused, cradling her cheek like she was something precious. Like she was worth holding. The winter air bit at her. When her eyes drifted open again, they found the guard standing directly in front of her. He met her gaze steadily. Patiently. And for a moment… Amaya thought she saw something soft as the torchlight flickered in his eyes. She looked to the other guards — three men who looked at her just as he did. Waiting for her. The ice along the ground had halted its steady crawl. The snow still fell, but gentler now. It floated through the air in easy paths, no longer frenzied and wild. And when a final tear dripped from Amaya’s chin, it splashed onto the muddy path below, soaking into the cold earth. Only the remnants of her magic remained — the places that the ice had claimed as an extension of Amaya’s fury. The courtyard. Her body. Her teartracks. She’d always been better at freezing than thawing. Words trapped themselves in her throat. Slowly, carefully, Amaya turned her head to look back up at Flynn. It was a struggle to move even that much — to not curl in on herself, her muscles tight and trembling with the cold. When she found him again, his tired eyes, his tense jaw… he was so close that Amaya could hear the steady rhythm of his breath. She could see the way the light shifted in his shadowed eyes as he met her gaze. Flynn looked down at her, green eyes darker, heavier, more tired than she was used to seeing them. But the gentle sea held her all the same… even if he seemed so very far away now. Regret and guilt surged through her. They mixed with dangerous, painful [i]longing.[/i] Amaya had placed him there — [i]far away.[/i] It was all she ever seemed to do. Push, and snap, and freeze, until she made herself unreachable. What had Flynn ever done to deserve that? What had Amaya ever done to deserve the gentleness in his eyes, even now? There was the soft thump of her heart. Stillness. Another heartbeat. Her fingers at her side twitched. She could barely feel them, beyond the arc of pain they sent through her hand and up her arm. It made her freeze, muscles tensing as she took in a small, sharp breath. But she didn’t look away from Flynn. She couldn’t. He was so far… but only inches lay between them. Amaya had never known how to cross distances, how to [i]reach[/i] for someone. But she was learning. Slowly. Clumsily. And from the first moment they’d met, when Amaya had only been a furious fool in her wedding gown, Flynn had always, [i]always,[/i] reached for her with an open palm. Waiting for her to reach back. She could cross this meager distance for him. Amaya let herself hesitate for a moment — a heartbeat filled with worries and doubts, hissed reminders of every painful lesson she’d ever learned — and reached back with icy fingers towards his hand. She barely touched him, too nervous of the harsh chill that would seep into him. But in that hesitant brush of her cold, clumsy hand, in the winter blue of her eyes, was a silent, nervous question. An apology. An offering. Flynn’s brows drew together in a swift, nearly imperceptible movement, as he braced for her to recoil. The dam he’d spent decades building cinched tighter, knotting painfully inside his chest. Relentless waves continued to crash violently against steel, threatening to wash it all away. And still, he didn’t dare move. His eyes hardened as they held her gaze—confusion glimmering in the shadows. White knuckled, he clung tight to a reflex taught to him long ago: be blank, be unshakable, let nothing in. If he didn’t react, he didn’t cause another reaction. Didn’t invite more pain. But even after several silent beats, she stayed. Breath after breath, she held his stare. The weight of it pressed against him, sending hairline cracks creeping into what had always been unyielding. Now, eyes locked with hers, that steel softened against his will. Made aluminum. Bendable. Breakable. Vulnerable. He let his eyes drift over her face again, seeking a moment of relief from the unraveling he knew he couldn’t stop. Wet trails shimmered along her cheeks and jawline. He wanted, desperately, to wipe them clean. To hold her close and kiss the warmth back into her lips. To tell her everything would be alright—even if he couldn’t promise it. Finding it just as difficult to look her over, his gaze dropped to her hand barely touching his. No longer covered in frost, but still trembling. Another crack formed. Another ache. Another longing. He lifted his eyes back to hers. The dam shifted, a fracture widened. Cautiously, he reached for her—fingers tentative as they slid against hers, almost afraid to fully claim her. The frigid contrast of her skin against the warmth of his own sent a shock through him, but he didn’t flinch. His touch lingered, soft and searching, a silent question woven in the way his eyes held hers—unsure if he was allowed to cross the boundary she’d set only moments ago. Amaya’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched the emotions flash through him, almost too quick to catch. There was that same realization she’d had the night before — that for all his surety, his stubborn hope and warmth were not unending. Flynn was [i]guarded.[/i] Careful, distant, and controlled… He had walls to call on, too. Ways of protecting himself. It was all heartbreakingly familiar. Flynn was waiting for Amaya to hurt him. [i]Again.[/i] But he didn’t pull away. Twin lances of regret and shame pierced her. [color=d15e5e]“You said partners,”[/color] came her broken voice. Her throat constricted painfully as she moved her fingers against his, curling slowly despite the ache — a tentative answer. She tried to swallow, watching for any sign, any [i]warning[/i] to his reaction, as if she could outrun a tidal wave if only she saw it early enough. [color=d15e5e]“…Still?”[/color] The word was as fragile as everything else that lay between them. Flynn let out a silent, painful breath. His warmth betrayed him as it fogged in the air. He peeled his gaze from hers, letting it fall back to their hands. The heart he thought had stopped was suddenly thunder in his ears. The dam he’d formed around it was crumbling. Each jagged piece of metal cut as it fell, stealing his breath—stripping his control—leaving him bare. He ran his thumb gently along the outside of hers. He didn’t know her. Could he ever? She didn’t know him, either. Could they ever truly be partners? He recalled the rage he’d seen boiling in the shimmering pools of her eyes. He’d seen it countless times before, but never in her. Did she know how to quell it? Did she want to—or [i]care to[/i]? Would she prefer to let it claim her? What kept her from becoming her father? He thought of her stubborn defiance—something he’d found endearing in the past. He thought of her reckless readiness to throw herself into danger, without a thought for those who might be terrified to lose her. She wasn’t a partner. She was an independent storm of fury and anguish, waiting to be unleashed. But he hadn’t been much of a partner, either. Today, they’d tried. He thought of her last night. Cast in the firelight. In his lap, against his chest. Fragile and soft, like she’d never been held before. Then, without warning, ice cold and razor sharp—pushing him away whenever he got too close. [i][color=d15e5e]“I don’t begrudge you your happiness, Flynn.”[/color][/i] The words still rang in the back of his mind—a painful reminder that time and time again, she’d shown herself to be selfless. Despite it all. Frustratingly, terrifyingly, selfless. Would he have done any different than her today? Or yesterday? She wasn’t her father. She couldn’t be. And he wasn’t his. His eyes found hers again. [color=337d71]“My feelings haven’t changed.”[/color] he breathed, sliding his fingers between hers and curling fully, pulling her hand into the heat of his palm. [color=337d71]“Partners.”[/color] Something released in her chest, sudden and overwhelming – it was like she was emerging from behind the prison wards again, a force as terrifying as her magic filling her body and making her whole. Relief. Fear. Warmth. [i]Flynn.[/i] He took her breath away. Amaya still had something to lose – a future grief not yet met. The shallow cuts she’d gouged into her own palm stung as the cold leaked away. Sensation slowly returned, and little by little Flynn’s hand didn’t feel like a wildfire against her own. The pain gave way to something softer as he held her, even if the rest of her still trembled. [color=d15e5e]“Then the choice is ours,”[/color] she corrected when she found her voice again. Amaya finally looked away from his eyes, down to their twining, mismatched hands. She curled her fingers securely around his, mirroring his grip. Pressing her lips together, she let her gaze drift further down, to the ice covered path below them. Remnants of her fury glittered like glass in the moonlight. There was that potent shame again, the fear of her own glacial wrath. Firelight danced along the surface of the ice, staining the surface red. It stilled her. Beneath her skin, restless magic flickered and stirred. She thought of the guards surrounding them – the weight of their gazes. Heavier still, the weight of their [i]oaths,[/i] binding them to her. [color=d15e5e]“I don’t want anyone else hurt,”[/color] she murmured – even as something dark and cold whispered to her, asking if she wasn’t sure that [i]one[/i] would deserve it. Another promise Flynn couldn’t swear to her, though every fiber of him wanted to. He studied her silently, absorbing another surge of helplessness that rolled through him. What he wished he could promise to soothe her worries… he wasn’t even sure it was what he truly wanted. Kain—the blight-born, whoever he was—deserved death. In Aurelia, the blight-born’s fate would have already been sealed. Death would have been a mercy. He knew Amaya’s father would agree, which caused him to hesitate. Flynn didn’t wish to prolong the blight-born’s suffering, but that ember of anger inside him hadn’t been fully extinguished. The blight-born had [i]attacked[/i] Elara and Amaya. [i]Violated[/i] her. [i]Killed[/i] two royal guards. [i]Impersonated[/i] one. Made a [i]false oath[/i] and tried to manipulate her. For what purpose? The thought made him sick, but he’d done his best to force it down. Focus on the present. On her. His fear for Amaya’s life alone had kept the fire at bay. [color=337d71]“I think we should alert the Commanders.”[/color] he suggested softly, lifting his gaze briefly to the knights who still watched intently, before returning to her. [color=337d71]“The more support we have, the less likely we’re the ones to get hurt…”[/color] he paused, searching her face for the same defiance he’d seen moments ago. [color=337d71]“Unless… you think otherwise?”[/color] Amaya’s expression held in place as she stilled reflexively. Volkov’s face flashed in her mind, his shadowed eyes as he watched her through the crack of a closing palace door. A flood of warnings filled her, lessons hard-learned, shouting at Amaya to not trust the old Commander — to guard and hide herself away, to reveal nothing that could be delivered back to her father like a bird carcass between the teeth of a smug cat. [color=d15e5e]“They should know,”[/color] she managed. It wasn’t about her, [i]it wasn’t about her,[/i] she fought to remind herself as she shoved the fear down. Cold crawled up her throat in protest. She tried to swallow around it. [color=d15e5e]“But that might take more time than we have.”[/color] It sounded pathetic, like wishful thinking to Amaya’s own ears. Impractical. [i]Selfish.[/i] Gritting her teeth together, she forced out a slow, clouded breath as her hand curled tighter around the anchor that was Flynn. There were more at risk than just her. [color=d15e5e]“Using his psychic magic… [i]drains[/i] him. It’s like he withers away.”[/color] She’d seen it yesterday. She’d seen it starting again today. He wore a different face now, but the effect was the same — the lengthening shadows beneath his eyes, the deepening hollows of his cheeks as he tugged at stray threads of her emotions, searching for what would finally make her unravel. The memory sent a chill across her skin and up her spine. [color=d15e5e]“I think he’ll need to feed soon.”[/color] Amaya could still hear the deafening boom of his voice in her mind, a discordant chord reverberating down her veins, as he coated himself in Sir Abel’s blood. And Amaya had just watched him walk into a closed, secured building with two magicless humans who didn’t know he was a threat. The cold snapped through her as she looked at the prison with wide eyes. [color=337d71]“We can at least have support on the way, if we’re engaged sooner.”[/color] Flynn’s eyes lifted to the brown-eyed guard ahead. No words were needed. Just a steady look, a small nod of his head. The knight straightened, gave a brisk nod in acknowledgement, then turned on his heel and hurried toward the Commander’s quarters. Amaya listened to the fading crunch of his steps and tried not to hear the echo of palace marble under his boots. Down one guard, Flynn’s gaze swept over the remaining three. Men he didn’t fully know, but they’d loyally shadowed him for months. Men who bore their oaths with honor. Men who likely had families waiting for them. Families they’d only ever see again if Flynn could find a cure… and kept them alive long enough to return. Fear circled, whispering all the ways he might fail them. Fail Amaya. Fail the world. The crushing weight of responsibility pressed hard against his chest. Familiar, yet more suffocating than ever. He tried to brush it aside. Fear twisted choices, froze action. His father had taught him that much. A leader who bent to fear would always be broken by it. These men were soldiers—the best of them. They’d known the risks when they took up the sword. When they’d marched to Dawnhaven. And yet Flynn couldn’t silence the gnawing thought that he was leading them all to an untimely end. He shoved the dread down, locking it tight behind the same walls he’d used to hold himself together—crumbling as they were. He couldn’t let it master him. Not now. Action had to be taken. His gaze returned to Amaya. Fear slipped straight through the cracks, coiling tight around his heart. [color=337d71]“We should get you to s—”[/color] The prison door swung open. Flynn’s eyes snapped to it. Adrenaline jolted through him. He straightened, making an unconscious shift to draw Amaya closer into his side. But it was only the squire. A quiet breath of relief fogged in the air. [color=337d71]“Daphne.”[/color] His gaze searched for any signs of visible distress. [color=337d71]“Is everything alright?”[/color] The heavy thud of armored boots cut through the air, ice cracking beneath each step. Flynn turned, noting the knights were already focused on the sound. The Champion approached, her armor gleaming in the torchlight. The blight-born Priestess from the night before trailed quietly behind. Flynn could almost feel the dread loosen its grip over him, just slightly. Beside him, Amaya barely moved. Her eyes were still trained on Daphne as she catalogued the new arrivals. New risks. New weights pressing against her. She pressed incrementally closer into Flynn’s side. [color=337d71]“Champion.”[/color] He inclined his head, then glanced back at Daphne. [color=337d71]“Might we have a word with you three?”[/color] [hr] [sub][b]Interactions:[/b] Dyna, Ranni [@Queen Arya], Daphne [@PrinceAlexus][/sub]