Fae Courts Echoes of the Elderglen

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The kick to his already broken ribs was more than enough to wake him. He really hadn't required two of them. Tears burned in his eyes and he coughed, blinking up at those present, trying to make sense of what was going on.

At first, Asher barely registered the warmth seeping into his ribs. His mind was fogged with pain and exhaustion, his body too worn down to recognise the relief for what it was. But then the iron cuffs hit the ground and something shifted. The burning in his wrists and ankles eased, the tension in his limbs loosening, and he sucked in a breath like a drowning man breaking the surface.

It felt wrong. The pain had been constant, gnawing, a thing he had accepted as inevitable—and now it was gone.

His bleary gaze flicked toward the healer, her hands still glowing faintly as she worked. But then— the redheaded female stepped forward.

Asher barely had time to process the sharp shift in energy before the healer crumpled, her body collapsing like a marionette with its strings severed. His heart lurched violently against his ribs, his sluggish mind snapping into sharper awareness.

"Wait—" His voice was hoarse, rasping, but the female was already dragging her away.. "What-"

Asher swayed on his feet as he was hauled up, his body barely holding itself together. The warmth of the healer’s magic still lingered, soothing the worst of the iron’s damage, but it couldn’t touch the deeper wounds—the ones that had nothing to do with flesh and everything to do with the weight of Rivain’s words.

He was setting him free.

Not just letting him go—helping him. Taking his side.

Asher swallowed, his throat tight as he clutched the bag Rivain had shoved into his arms. His fingers curled around the worn fabric, knuckles white, as though it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment. His breath came sharp and unsteady, his mind grasping at anything to say, but there was nothing. No sharp retort. No bitter anger. Just a hollow, aching kind of grief.

He met Rivain’s eyes, searching them for something—some reason, some explanation.

Asher exhaled shakily, blinking hard. He had spent five hundred years waiting for someone—anyone—to stand beside him. To see him. And now, when he finally had it, it was being given with the sharp edge of an ultimatum. Go. Disappear. Become no one.

He nodded, just once, his fingers flexing around the bag. "Thank you," he murmured, the words quiet, as though afraid for Rivain's sake that anyone might hear them.

He stared at his brother for a moment longer, and then he turned before he could break, before the weight of it all crushed him completely. His steps were unsteady, but he forced himself forward, out of the cell, into the open hall. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Because if he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to leave.

The night air hit Asher like a wave, cool and sharp against the fever burning beneath his skin. Every breath rattled through him, shallow and unsteady, as exhaustion sank its claws deep into his bones. He staggered forward, catching himself against the rough stone of the outer wall, fingers pressing into the cold surface as if it might anchor him. The world beyond that prison felt impossibly vast, stretching into an uncertain darkness that swallowed him whole. He had never felt so weightless. So untethered.

The bag Rivain had shoved into his arms hung heavy at his side, but not as heavy as the words his brother had left him with. Vespera was released. Unharmed. That should have brought relief, should have loosened the tightness in his chest. Instead, it only deepened the ache.

She would think him dead. That was for the best. It had to be.

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the stone. He tried to convince himself that this was mercy. That it was kindness. That by vanishing from her life entirely, he had done something right. Because if he stayed—if she knew the truth, if she searched—he would ruin her. He had been told more than once now that he would be the death of her, and that was something he couldn’t live with.

A shuddering breath tore from his chest as he forced himself to move. Every step felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of all he had lost threatened to drag him into the earth. His legs ached, his vision blurred at the edges, but he kept going.

The leylines would take him somewhere, but his heart would stay right here.
 
"Nnnngggh." Vespera woke with a start, her heart hammering in her chest as she lay sprawled out on the cold stone floor. At least she had made it inside before exhaustion took her. Though, if she hadn't, she was confident that Rivain would have kicked her through the door before leaving. Her head throbbed, every beat pulsing with the memories of pain. Agonizing. Unrelenting.

She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious, but the silence around her felt too still. Too empty. A hollow absence gnawed at her. Her nails ground into the stone as she tried to gather her bearings. Memories were still as fragmented as they'd been before. Nothing more than flashes of light, heat, hands too rough on her, and iron sinking into flesh. But nothing was clear. Nothing, whole.

Wincing as her head swam, she sat up slowly, an ache had formed in her temples like remnants of a nightmare she couldn't escape. But that same emptiness had left her unsettled. The absence of a presence pressed inward.

For a moment, she only sat there, frozen in confusion with her head between her knees. The only thing she remembered from her foggy thoughts, with any type of certainty, was the grip of the Sentinels' rough hands dragging her deeper and deeper. But none of that was important. She needed to know that Ash was okay. That he was alive.

They wouldn't have killed him. She knew she hadn't cracked. She lied, and would have lied until her bitter end if that was what it took to save him.

Her head spun, pulse quickening as she pushed herself to her feet and held herself up with the nearby end table. Something was shifting. Something intangible. She could feel him, feel him through the aching distance that stretched between them like an invisible thread. And with every passing moment, it pulled tighter, threatening to break. It was pulling because he was getting farther away. The ache in her chest grew.

His presence slowly, inevitably slipped farther from her grasp. She could feel emotions not belonging to her. Guilt. Sorrow.

She wouldn't let him slip again. Not like this.

He couldn't leave. He wouldn't leave. Not again. Not after he'd abandoned her. Let her embarrass herself. Not after years of torment. Not after slaughtering all those fae for her. For reasons she still needed to know.

Her steps increased as the walls closed in around her, air thickening until it threatened to suffocate her entirely. Breaths came in ragged gasps as she rushed through the darkened forest, heart pounding in her chest. Realization dawned on her that he was slipping away, rushing towards the ley lines. He was fleeing, trying to vanish from her grasp entirely.

Her mind moved faster than her body could keep up, racing across the Elderglen toward the one place she knew he would try and disappear from. She could feel him lingering there as if he was uncertain. But that guilt and fear ate at her, things that were not hers to feel. Chasing him towards the ley.

Vespera ran faster, nearly running face first into a thick tree before she saw him. His silhouette was stark against the dim light, white hair glowing when the moon hit it. He was making his way forward without a passing thought that she might not want him to go. Might not want him to leave her alone without an explanation for gods knew how long.

His own movements were slow. Deliberate. He had already resigned to his fate. But her voice broke through the air, ragged and furious as she closed the distance. Screaming before she could even think.

"Ash!"

It tore through her like a battle cry, full of fury and raw, unfiltered emotion that forced him to stop in his tracks. He tensed, posture stiffening as though he knew what was coming, but had the sense not to turn around yet.

"Do you think you can just disappear like this, Ash? I need answers. I am not going to let you leave again, not going to let you slip away and abandon us all like its...like it means nothing to you!" Her voice cracked as she drew closer, every word laced with pain. Pain of years spent wondering why they treated her like shit and why, now, it had changed. "Tell me why you did it. Tell me why the fuck you did that you coward!"

Her fists trembled at her sides as she stormed up to him, jamming her finger in his chest. It wasn't just anger that twisted inside her now. It was the weight of his silence. It was the crushing fear that she would lose him before she ever understood anything. "What the fuck is going on with you Asher? Why will you not just tell me what is happening instead of pushing me away and running from your problems?" She was screaming now, completely hysterical as her hands flew forward to shove him.

"Look at me and tell me the truth!"
 
Ash’s breath hitched in his chest as Vespera’s furious voice cut through the quiet night. Her words, sharp and filled with a desperation he couldn’t escape, pierced through the haze of guilt and sorrow that weighed down on him. He froze, body tense, as she echoed in the stillness of the Elderglen, every syllable like a knife through his heart.

He hadn’t expected her to follow him, to chase him down like this, but of course she would. She would never let him disappear without demanding answers. He felt the weight of her fury, her confusion, and the raw pain in her voice, and it shattered him more than anything. She was right to be angry. He deserved her anger. Every accusation she threw at him was justified. And yet, every word felt like an unbearable weight pressing down on him, threatening to suffocate him.

Her finger jabbed into his chest, and he winced, as if her touch itself was a reminder of how much he had failed her. He could feel his pulse quicken, his breath shallow, as she continued to tear into him, demanding answers. Why? Why did he do it? Why was he running from her?.. Coward..

Because he didn’t know how to stay. Because he had already broken her, and staying would only destroy them both. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say what needed to be said, not like this, not with her in front of him, still furious, still desperate for him to explain everything.

He flinched again as she shoved him, her hands trembling, her pain raw and uncontained. But this time, he reached for her. He couldn’t let her say any more. He couldn’t hear it. Not now.

“Vespa, please—stop. You need to. Shh!” His voice was low, strained, as he pulled her into him, turning her against his chest and pressing a hand over her mouth, his palm firm against her lips to silence the frantic words spilling from her. He couldn’t let her keep screaming and risk being caught or he really would be a dead man. He dragged her with him, pulling them both into the quiet safety of the leyline, away from everything, far from the world they had left behind.

The sounds of the forest faded into the distance, replaced by the soft murmur of a river running beside them. An old oak tree loomed in the distance, its twisted roots forming a makeshift bed where he had laid in the days before, a place where the world had felt more distant, more possible. His things were scattered around, evidence of his hasty departure, a sign that even this place had become something fleeting, a temporary refuge.

He released her slowly, his hand slipping from her mouth as he looked down at her, his face a mask of sorrow and regret. “I did what was necessary,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. He couldn’t meet her eyes just yet. “They hurt you, did they not? Tortured you?” He swallowed hard, his words coming out in a rush. “Yes, I… lost control a bit, but they...” He paused, the words bitter in his throat. He knew what he had done, the way he had done it, he knew the damage he had caused, but he would have done it again. That terrified him more than anything.

“I am a coward. A monster. You’ve known that for a long time.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes finally meeting hers, full of apology and sorrow. “I’m sorry. For everything. But Vespa… you need to go home. Let me leave. Rivain let me go. The others will think I’m dead. If I stay around you, I’m only going to... I’ve hurt you enough.”

His voice faltered, his chest tight as he took a step back, his gaze never leaving her. He didn’t know how to make her understand, how to make her see that his leaving was the only way he could protect her from the darkness that had followed him. He had to leave. And as much as it tore him apart to say it, to see the look in her eyes, he couldn’t stay. Not like this. Not when staying would mean destroying everything they had left.

“I have to go,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if saying it aloud would make it real.
 
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Vespera barely felt her feet when they hit the ground, barely registered the rush of wind and water and life as they leyline carried them away. She only felt him-arms locked around her tight, hand still pressed against her mouth to shut her up. Her breath came in sharp bursts against his palm, hot, frantic, uneven. Her body trembled with fury and grief sharper than any blade. He wouldn't let her speak. He wouldn't let her fight.

Like always. She was a weak inconvenience.

And he was leaving her. Again.

When Ash finally let her go, she staggered backward, inhaling sharply as the world settled around them. Her hands were clenched at her sides, still shaking with every word she wanted to say. But there was a weight in Ash's eyes, the sorrow, the apology, unbearable self-loathing, that stole her breath. He thought this was some type of mercy? He thought he was doing her a favor by slipping away into the night like a ghost without so much as a goodbye.

And she had called him a coward.

The word still burned in her throat, raw and bitter. She wanted to take it back, but she couldn't deny the truth of the word she'd chosen. He was a coward. He was afraid of facing the war raging inside of him, tearing him apart. He'd rather let it tear him apart than ask for help.

Her lips parted, but she said nothing for a long while. Then, quietly, hoarsely from screaming, she whispered.

"I told you before. I am not scared of you." Her voice wavered, she felt herself breaking. Not because she doubted the truth of it. She never feared him. Even surrounded by bodies, burning branching tumbling around him, she did not fear him. Not the way he feared himself. Not the way he wanted her to fear him.

"I do not care what you think you are, Ash," She continued, breaths still uneven. "You do not get to decide that for me. You do not get to tell me what I should be afraid of. And you sure as hell do not get to leave me behind without a damn explanation! Telling me that they hurt me is not an explanation, Ash. I know exactly what happened to me. I have scars you can't see, but you cannot burn the world because I've been hurt one too many times."

Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she refused to let them fall. She had spent too many years choking down her pain, too many years fighting for her place, too many years fighting for her right to exist. And now, she was fighting for him. For the infuriating, reckless, impossible man standing in front of her. "It's the way you stand when the world tries to knock you down," She began quoting him, the night she'd embarrassed herself so badly she wished it was just a bad dream. "You take every hit, every insult, every ounce of hate...and you keep going."

She sucked in a shaky breath. "Haven't I suffered enough?" Without losing you? Her golden eyes lingered over his face before falling. Vespera tried to hold back the emotion that threatened to spill over, closing the space between them as she swiped furiously at her eyes. "I don't know what is happening in your mind if you don't tell me.." She exhaled quietly and took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down.

"I don't know what happened to you in the cell. I don't know where you've been running off to or what happened every time you've disappeared. But you cannot say I haven't tried to get even the smallest glimpse into what is happening to you. You do not get to hide behind veiled truths and vague fucking warnings and expect me to go home like nothing is wrong."

She reached out, fingers brushing against his wrist before they locked on around it. "You do not get to do this alone." She whispered, fierce and desperate, breaking under the weight of everything. Her fingers tightened, as if she could hold him there, as if she could tether him to her, to the current moment.

"I will not let you leave without me." Because she couldn't. Because losing him, truly losing him, was the only thing in the world that was absolutely sure would stop her.
 
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Asher exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair as he stepped away from her, pacing like a caged animal. The healer had knit his wounds and mended his bones but every nerve in his body was alight with lingering pain. He could still smell blood, iron, charred flesh, burning trees, could still see his father's face, Rivain's, feel their fists and feet pounding into him, feel the cuffs burning into his wrists, scars he would carry forever. Above it all, he could still hear Vespa's screams, and those scars ran deeper.

He clenched his jaw, forced his breaths to steady, but nothing could stop the way his heart pounded, the way his mind raced.

And then she was quoting him. His own words, thrown back at him like a blade to the ribs. Things he'd said that he shouldn't have, even though he'd meant them.

'Haven't I suffered enough?'

"Yes. You have." he looked at her then, his throat tightening as he swallowed the urge to say more of those things he meant, his nails digging into his palms.

"So why do you want so badly to be at my side?" he asked hoarsely, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "Have I not contributed to your suffering?" He could see it in her, the grief, the pain, the fire that refused to die out even when the world had tried to snuff it out a thousand times over. And he had done nothing to help her. If anything, he'd made it worse.

"Why?" His voice broke on the word. "Vespera... why can't you let me leave?" He wanted her to answer. Needed her to think about it. Because he couldn't fucking say it.

"The last thing I did before I left you there was throw that dagger," he reminded her, his voice growing rough. "You are not afraid of me when you should be. I am not good, Vespa. I will be the death of you, and I cannot—will not—have that on my conscience." He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. "It would—"

His breath hitched. His body went still. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached, forcing the words back down before they could escape. But he saw the flicker in her golden eyes, the way she took a half-step toward him as if she’d caught onto something, as if she were searching his face for an answer he wasn’t ready to give.

He turned away before she could pry it from him.

"It doesn’t matter," he said roughly, his voice lower now, tired. "You can’t fix this. You shouldn’t have to."

But her fingers closed around his wrist, warm and unyielding. 'You do not get to do this alone,' she whispered and his breath shuddered out of him, betraying the cracks in his armour.

Gods help him—she was going to break him.

"You may not fear me, Vess.. But I am fucking terrified of you." he admitted quietly.
 
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"I am not afraid of you, Ash. I have never been afraid..." She repeated herself softly, as though she were trying to convince herself just as much as him. Vespera's eyes burned with unshed tears while Ash spoke, fury and pain striking her harder than any physical blow had. Yet, she remained strangely composed after her own screaming outburst that had forced him to drag her into the leyline. In the quiet that followed, she took a slow and deliberate step forward until she stood right before him, gaze steady despite the trembling that wracked her body.

He accused her of being the cause of his torment. He would be the death of her, that she terrified him. Standing in front of her, he may have been right for she felt her heart breaking right there.

Vespera's gaze shifted upward to his, searching mossy green eyes desperately for any sign of the man she grew up with. The stubborn, irritating, pain in her ass was gone. Replaced by a husk of himself- a coward hiding in Ash's skin. Instead of continuing her tirade, she shifted into something quiet. Something lethal. Silence stretched between them until it was thick as the night itself and so taut that one wrong move might shatter it.

Her voice finally emerged as a barely more than a whisper. "Do you truly want me gone?" The question lingered in the space between them, a fragile piece of glass. Her eyes glistened with tears and she swiped them away with her sleeve. She would not let herself cry until she had the full truth from him.

She continued before letting him answer. "You threw a dagger and you missed me." Instead of fully closing the distance between them, she took two steps backward. "You were never going to hit me. You would never hurt me. We both know that." Her sigh was heavy, bordering on defeat. "Are you so terrified that I won't let you push me away and disappear into the darkness alone, Ash?"

Her throat tightened, heart pounding in her ears as she willed herself not to cry in front of him. "I ask for the truth and you won't let me in. Ash I have spent ninety-four years beside you. You can trust me. I want to help you." She reached out with her desperate plea, a palpable weight placed upon him.

"Tell me the truth. Do you really wish for me to vanish from your life? Is that what you desire? Will you stop drowning yourself in your own guilt and fear if I rid you of this burden?" She trembled, waiting to be struck with the unbearable truth.
 
Asher’s breath was unsteady as he stood there, staring down at her. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a vice. He could not lie. He could twist truths and skirt around them but he couldn't speak a lie and she knew it. But gods, he wanted to—wanted to tell her something cruel enough to make her turn away, something final enough to force her hand, despite how he felt his heart splinter in his chest at the way she looked up at him right now.

But she would see right through him. She always had. "I want you to be safe, and you are not safe with me," he answered, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

His jaw tightened. He turned his head slightly, as if he could avoid the way she was looking at him, as if he could avoid the truth burning between them.

"You want the truth?" His voice was raw, hoarse. "The truth is that I don’t know how to live in a world where you are gone." He exhaled sharply, his fingers raking through his already disheveled hair. "And I don’t know how to live in a world where you stay, knowing what I’ve done. Knowing what I will do."

"I would never purposefully hurt you." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper now. They both knew if he'd wanted to hurt her with that blade, he would have. "Back then, I'd hoped it would bring you back to me, back to fighting and arguing like we always have, because I didn't want to be left alone". His throat worked around the words. "I still don't.."

Silence stretched between them again, thick, heavy—until he spoke once more, softer this time.

"You are the only thing in this fucking world that still sees me as something more than what I’ve become.. I fear your faith in me is misplaced." His voice faltered, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He forced himself to meet her gaze, to let her see the war waging inside of him, the fracture lines forming beneath the weight of her presence.

"You want the truth, Vespa?" Ash's voice cracked, raw and desperate. "The truth is, I can't breathe when you're not with me. Every day I was gone, all I could think about was you. And the truth is... I'm so fucked up that I know I’ll ruin your life. I’ve already ruined it, more than you’ll ever know... I can’t do that to you. I can’t..."

His words faltered as he looked at her, his heart breaking with each passing second. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms, to feel the warmth of her presence and feel something other than pain or fear or sadness. But he couldn’t. How could he do that to her, knowing what he was? Knowing how much damage he could cause? He was drowning in his own darkness, and he couldn't drag her down with him.
 
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Vespera's breaths came in, sharp and uneven, pulse hammering in her ears as she stood there and stared at him. Her mouth was opened slightly, but nothing came out. His words, his truth, cut between them- a jagged, open wound. For a moment, she could only stand there, struggling visibly to process what the fuck he'd just admitted to her.

I can't breathe when you're not with me.

Unexpected and raw, the confession struck her like lightning, sending her mind reeling. He couldn't lie. She knew that. And yet, she didn't believe him- not fully. Not after everything. It did not make sense.

"Then why do you push me away?" Her voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the absence of any softness. She wasn't screaming now. She wasn't lashing out at him. But there was something so painful in the way she spoke, lethal. Something sharper than any blade could cut. She searched his face, waiting, daring him to come up with some answer that would satisfy her. "If you are so afraid of being alone, then why do you choose to be? Why do you keep choosing to push me away, to run from me like I am hunting you down instead of trying to stand by your fucking side?"

She was refusing to let him escape this. His excuses did not interest her.

"You say you've already ruined my life." Her voice broke when she spoke, but she tried to cover it up. "That you've done things to ruin me. But when did I ever say that, Ash?" She swallowed hard and looked up into his eyes. "When did I ever look at you and say 'You ruined me'?"

Vespera was shaking, not from anger. From something deep, something fractured inside of her that she wasn't sure how to put back together. She wasn't sure if it could be put back together at all. "You do not get to decide what is ruined for me, Ash. You do not get to stand in front of me and act like you know what I can or cannot handle." Her golden eyes burned, unrelenting, like there was a hint of magic from her mother still left somewhere inside. "And you do not get to make my choices for me."

The silence between them this time wasn't empty. It was filled, bursting, with things they'd never said. Things she wanted to hear. And now that they were out in the open, she could see the truth written all over his face. And she refused to let him slip away again into his lonely undoing.

"Please Ash," Her voice softened, her shoulders dropped. Her voice came in a murmur, throat aching from holding back emotions she refused to let spill over. "Please let me come with you."

She inhaled sharply, head tilting backward to keep her tears inside. "If things get too dangerous, I'll leave." She promised, her voice shaking. "If you tell me to go, I will. But don't-" She tried to cover her sniffling with a cough. "Don't walk away from me now. Not after this. Not after telling me the truth and just expecting me to go back home and forget about you."

Her voice trembled, dropping low into something dangerously close to pleading, "I won't let you go through this alone. I can help you. So please...don't leave me here."

And then, she fell silent. Her chest rose and fell with ragged, uneven breaths, waiting for him to answer. Waiting for him to let her in.
 
She was angry, cutting. Good. He could handle that better. "Because I shouldn't be allowed to fucking breathe."

"I contributed. I saw what they carved into your skin and I may not have held the blade, but I was never kind to you. I let Rivain be worse to you, I done nothing about it and all along you--" he cut himself off again, turning to walk away and then turning back on her, moving closer, attempting to threaten. "I may not have ruined you yet, Vespera, but I will. Not intentionally - but I will."

"Don't. Don't plead with me." he asked with a shake of his head, knowing he wasn't strong enough to deny her.


Asher's eyes burned, his chest tight as her words tore through him. Please don’t let me go. It echoed in his mind, haunting, suffocating him.

She was too close to the truth. Too damn close, and it made him want to tear his own skin off to stop it from being real. Her words, her pain, cut into him deeper than any blade could.

"Because I shouldn’t be allowed to fucking breathe, Vespa!"

He spat the words out, sharp and venomous. It hurt him to say, but it was the only reason he had for trying to make her leave him. He needed to protect her. He needed to shut her out because he couldn't bear the thought of hurting her.

"I contributed. When I saw what they carved into your skin," he said, voice cracking with the weight of the rage he still held despite the smouldering bodies he'd left in the glade. "I may not have held the blade, but I was never kind to you. I let Rivain be worse to you, I did nothing about it, and all along you--" He cut himself off again, the words too much to bear. His head dropped for a second, hands trembling as he tried to steady himself.

The silence between them was suffocating, and then he moved, stepping closer. His eyes were a storm of fury, fear, and something darker that threatened to swallow them both. "I may not have ruined you yet, Vespera, but I will. Not intentionally, but I will." The truth was simple, ugly, and there was no way around it. He would destroy her. Slowly, surely, until there was nothing left but the wreckage.

Please, Ash..

He could hear it in her voice—something so desperate and fragile it made his heart shatter in ways he couldn't even begin to describe. She didn't deserve this.

He stepped closer again, this time without thinking, shaking his head as if that would silence the truth in her eyes. "Don't," he begged, voice hoarse. "Please, don’t. Don’t make me feel like this."

He wasn’t strong enough. Not to push her away. Not to keep pretending he was fine with her walking away. Not when he was this broken. When he was so fucking lost without her. But he couldn't let her in. Not like this. "I’m not strong enough to deny you. And I’m not strong enough to protect you, either." he whispered, voice cracking again.
 
She inhaled sharply, breaths uneven. But she did not back down. She would not back down. Not on this.

His words, his confessions, his pain. It was all raw, all consuming. But Vespera saw through his agony, through his self-hatred and through the desperate, reckless way he was trying to shove her from his life before he could lose her.

I may not have ruined you yet, Vespera, but I will.

She shook her head. No. She could not- would not- let him believe that.

"You say you'll ruin me," A muscle in her jaw flickered as she contemplated what she would say, what she would do. "That you are not strong enough to deny me. That you are not strong enough to protect me. Ash, I never asked for your protection."

Her head shook again. "I never asked." She repeated, softer this time. "And I still won't. Ever."

There was a fierce certainty in her voice as she spoke, even as her throat ached. "Don't you think I know you by now?" The gold in her eyes dimmed until the color had gone flat. "You are reckless and dangerous, but you are not cruel. You will not hurt me." She didn't know if she was trying to reassure him or herself with those words.

A drop of rain fell, landing on her cheek. She ignored it, attention solely focused on him.

Hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails dug into her palms. She wanted to shake him, throttle him, force him to understand that it did not matter what he said. She was not leaving. She could not leave him.

"I don't want to be safe if it means losing you, Ash." She whispered. "I don't want to walk away and wonder if you will disappear forever. I don't want to go home and sit in Merenor's unbearably silent house and know that you're out there, alone, carrying the weight of all of this by yourself. I want to help you." Her voice cracked.

"Let me stay." Her heart pounded as she closed that last little bit of space between them, rising onto the tips of her toes. Against her better judgment, Vespera grabbed Ash by his neck and pulled him down, letting her get close. Let the air between their mouths charge with something fragile and all-consuming. She hovered there, just close enough to feel his breath against her lips. Close enough that if he moved, even a little, they would be lost. And gods, she prayed they would.
 
He would hurt her. He knew he would.

Yet she kept closing the distance, her heart a frantic rhythm that matched his own. He could feel it—feel her, that invisible tether pulling them together, undeniable, inescapable. And she didn’t even know why.

His body refused to move away. It wanted her closer.

Asher swallowed hard, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He didn’t dare touch her. If he did, he wouldn’t know where to draw the line. Her hand on his neck burned, scalding through his skin, searing straight to his bones. His chest rose and fell, ragged, breathless.

The rain thickened, heavy drops pelting down, as if the world itself was warning her. Warning them both.

His head dipped, lips hovering just shy of hers, so close he could taste the space between them. Gods. He had kissed others before, but never—not once—had he felt this, had he wanted something so badly. This unbearable pull, this ache so deep it twisted his ribs.

But he couldn’t. Not without telling her. Not without her knowing. She had a right to know why she wanted what she did.

Vespera,” he breathed, forehead resting against hers for a moment before he tore himself away, exhaling sharply.

“I can’t.”

He turned, pressing a hand to the back of his neck where hers had just been, his skin still burning with the phantom of her touch. The rain was relentless now, soaking through his clothes, running in rivulets down his face. He let it.

His mind raced for the right words, for the truth she deserved.

“You need to know everything,” he said, voice hoarse. He couldn’t look at her. “You need to know why you want to stand at my side. Why you think you want to kiss me. Why you .. felt pain when I was the one being hurt.” He winced, glancing up at her, just for a moment, before forcing himself to go on.

“Why I knew about the attack when I was right here and you were in the glade. Why I—” his voice caught, his hands flexing at his sides. “Why I murdered them the way I did.”

The words hung between them, heavier than the storm around them.
His shoulders shuddered, his head bowing.

I’m so sorry.” his voice broke.

Sorry that he hadn’t told her. Sorry that she had been cursed by fate to be bound to him..

"You're my mate, Vespa." he said.

The moment the words were finally spoken, his chest caved, as if the weight of them had been pressing down on him for far too long. His legs nearly buckled. A shuddering breath tore through him.

It had been there, unspoken, clawing at his throat, twisting inside him like something alive. And now that it was out—now that it could not be unsaid—he felt unmade.

Relief and terror warred within him, twin forces battling for control. He had spent so long trying to deny it, to fight against it, but the truth had always been there, lurking beneath his skin, woven into his very being. She was his. He was hers.

And she had no idea what that meant.

His vision blurred at the edges, the rain mixing with the heat burning behind his eyes. He had ruined her. The moment she had stepped into his life, the moment fate had tangled their souls together, she had been doomed.

He wanted to take it back. To swallow the words, to pretend this wasn’t happening, to keep her safe from him.

But he couldn’t.

Because now she knew. And he prepared himself to break.
 
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Rain was soaking through her clothes now, chilling her skin. Her teeth chattered. Her heart slammed violently against her ribs as her breaths came in shallow, uneven bursts. With each word Asher said, her world was narrowing, pulling tight around him, around his words, around the truth he had just tried to hand off like it wasn't going to destroy everything.

You need to know why you want to stand by my side. Why you think you want to kiss me.

Her lips were already parting, a sharp rebuttal on her tongue- her fire rising to meet the storm. "I don't think, Ash." She snapped, her voice trembling just as her hands were before she balled them into fists. "I know. I know what I want to do. I know I want to stand beside you. I know I want to help you. I know I-" She cut herself off, swallowing the words that nearly tumbled out. Ones she was not ready to voice aloud. Not after being rejected, not once, but twice now.

But she still did not understand it.

Her hands shook as she forced herself to take a breath, but it was useless. She was already unraveling piece by piece, bit by bit, suffocating from the weight pressing down on her from the words he was about to say.

And then he said it,

You're my mate, Vespa.

And gods, she felt it now.

Her world broke, shattering in to a million shards. Sharp and lethal, they spilled around her. Rain roared around them, but it was nothing compared to the deafening silence that crashed through her mind. The world around shifted beneath her feet, tilting dangerously like she was standing on the edge of a cliff she hadn't even known was there.

She felt sick. She was going to be sick.

She was thrown into a sea without warning, her lungs filling with saltwater, body sinking under the weight of something too vast and unknowable. Vespera had spent her whole life thinking of this...mate... as nothing more than myth- a lesson Merenor had skipped over in his teachings. Perhaps because he, too thought they were myth after a lifetime without another half of himself, or because it was simply not worth telling someone with human blood. It had been a joke Vespera had whispered to Fionn about when they were younger, laughing about how it was just a fairy tale that his kind used to justify obsession, to make love into fate rather than choice.

And now Ash had spoken it into existence.

Her stomach twisted and she barely registered the step she took backward, shaking her head once, then twice, as though she were trying to deny it. As though she could make it untrue without not accepting it.

Her lips parted, but words didn't come immediately. How long...How long had he known? How long had he been carrying this burden and hiding it from her?

"How long?" The words tore from her throat, unsteady and panicked shouting over the storm. She didn't care how desperate, how pathetic and weak she sounded. She didn't care if her voice cracked, if she looked like she was about to fall apart. Because anything else would be a lie. She was falling apart. She was.

"How long have you known, Ash?" Panic climbed higher and higher, threatening to drown her. "Why?" She inhaled sharply after her next question, tears freely falling from her eyes- no longer trying to force the storm down that was raging inside of her. "Why me?"

She wasn't meant for this. It was impossible. She didn't believe in fates. She never wanted to be claimed like her and Fionn joked in their youth.

And yet, here he was- Asher. Standing in front of her like he had admitted to murder. Looking like he was preparing to be ripped apart.

"You don't just-" She exhaled sharply, trying to silence the tremor in her voice. "You tell me this now. Like its some horrible inevitable truth that I have no say in?" She felt it beneath her ribs- fear, anger, betrayal curling inside like something venomous. But her head was spinning, vision blurring. She didn't run. Running would be cowardly, hiding from the truth.

She didn't flee.

No- she stepped forward.

And before she could talk herself out of it. Before logic caught up with her emotions, she got onto her toes, breaths uneven, lips hovering just shy of his. She wasn't sure if she was meant to kiss him or break him apart. She kissed him. Her lips pressed against his, tentative and uncertain, but real. Deliberate. Hers.

Not fate. Not the gods.

Hers.
 
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Asher felt her emotions crashing into him, like waves he couldn’t fight, couldn't survive. Each pulse of anger, confusion, and raw pain was his own, flooding him until his stomach twisted violently. The moment she stepped back, it felt as if a chasm had opened between them—like the miles between them stretched beyond anything he could bridge. His heart felt like it was breaking in his chest, the tightness in his ribs nearly suffocating him where he stood.

Fuck, if she walked away... He wouldn't just go insane. He'd die where he stood. He could already feel the force of it around his heart, ready to crush it.

He expected it, but still the thought alone sent panic surging through him, the dread wrapping around his chest, squeezing until he was breathless. His world teetered on the edge of an abyss. His fingers curled, aching to reach for her, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t do a damn thing as she tore herself apart in front of him.

He could feel every word, every shift in her thoughts, the way the storm raged inside her. His chest ached, a deep, raw pain that matched hers, as she threw the questions at him like knives.

"How long?"

He closed his eyes, his throat tight as he struggled to find the right words through the blinding pressure that threatened to crush him.

"I... I don’t know," he whispered, his voice barely cutting through the rain’s roar. His head shook as he struggled to grasp the truth, his fingers flexing at his sides. "I suspected, but... I’ve only been sure for a little while."

"Why me?"

His heart twisted. The question that he couldn't answer. Why her? How could he possibly explain? There was no rational answer. No reason he could give that would make this right in her eyes. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather be bound to - but that wasn't what she wanted the answer to. She wanted to know what she'd done to deserve being bound to him.

His gaze lifted, meeting hers, pain lancing through his chest. “That’s not a question either of us can answer...” he said, his voice rough with the weight of his own helplessness.

He’d never wanted anything more than to make this easier for her, but he couldn’t. He couldn't change what was happening between them, couldn't change the bond that had already begun to shape their worlds in ways neither of them understood.

"I'm sorry, Vespa... I am." The words felt hollow, but they were all he had. For this, for everything.

"You do have a say." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he regretted them the instant they left his lips. "You turn around now, step back into the leylines, and forget. Deny it. Reject me. It’s alright...” His gaze softened, but his chest tightened as he spoke the truth he feared—her rejecting him might be the only way to save her. He didn’t want her to make this choice. He didn't want her to have to make this choice, but he couldn’t bear the alternative. She deserved better than him.

But then she took a step forward. Close. Too close. Fuck. Her eyes met his with that same fire, the same defiance, and in a heartbeat, she was pressing herself against him.

His breath hitched, panic clawing up his throat. "What are you--?" But before he could finish, her lips were on his.

The world erupted. A thousand stars exploded behind his eyes as her kiss burned through him, raw and real, flooding him with a heat that surged through every fiber of his being. The pressure in his chest lifted, replaced by the odd sensation of something clicking into place. Every one of her emotions he had felt had been dull until now, faint in comparison to what he felt now, like their very minds, their souls had connected. His body tensed, frozen in shock at the feeling of her lips, her acceptance, everything he had wanted and feared.

For a moment, he was still, the rain drenching them both, their bodies pressed together in the only way that mattered, their fates sealed in that single kiss.

And then, everything inside him broke.

With a growl that felt like it came from the deepest parts of him, Asher surged forward, his hands finding her face, cradling her as if she might slip away. His lips crushed against hers, desperate, frantic, and full of everything he had never dared to feel.

She was everything. She was the storm, the rain, the earth beneath his feet, and the fire in his veins. She was the one thing he couldn’t live without.

He pulled her closer, his hands gripping her waist, then her thighs, lifting her from the ground as if she were nothing more than air, holding her against him as if he never wanted to let go. The kiss deepened, each movement more urgent than the last, his entire body aching with the need to be closer, to meld with her, to make sure she knew she was his.

Fuck. She was his.

He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

His heart thundered in his chest, a wild, pounding rhythm that matched the frantic way he kissed her back. Her taste, her scent, the feel of her pressed to him—it was all consuming. She was his air, his breath, and in that moment, he fucking breathed for the first time in his life.
 
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The moment their lips met, everything exploded. Magic surged through her like wildfire, burning her from the inside out, binding itself to something deeper and older than she could comprehend. It wasn't just the fire. There was lightning, crackling through her veins, running along her skin and sinking into her bones. It was all consuming. Utterly fatal.

Vespera felt him.

Not just the heat of his body pressed up against hers, not the desperate and frantic way his lips moved with hers, but everything.

His rage. His agony. His need. Gods, his need. And hers matched it.

The moment his hands gripped her thighs, pulling up and against him, a low, broken sound tore from her throat. It was something unbidden, something that sent a shudder through her entire being. Fingers dug into her skin, holding her- claiming her, anchoring her to this moment. To him.

And Vespera wanted more. She needed more.

She needed to let go and let the bond take her. To let the storm inside consume them both. Ash was pulling her under, and she was letting him.

Magic surged, twisting around them, lashing out into the space between their bodies and pulling them closer. Gods she needed to be closer. Vespera had never felt any of this before. It wasn't just desire. It wasn't just hunger. It was something deeper, being woven into her very existence. She felt the threads of it latching onto him, into him. A force greater than herself was choosing, deciding that this was it.

He was hers. And she was his.

Her mind was screaming at her to stop. Her body begged her not to.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the raw hunger in his gaze, the sheer need in his body, in the way he held like like she was the only thing in the universe that could keep her from falling apart. And gods, she understood. Because she felt exactly the same. She had spent her entire life belonging to no one. Unclaimed. Unwanted. Undesired.

But this...was not belonging. This was fate. This was something she had never chosen. Her heart pounded in her chest, realization slamming into her with the force of the storm they were trapped in. It twisted into the desire, the desperation, the fear.

She wasn't ready for where this was going.

Not yet.


Vespera gasped against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders as she clung to him like he was the only solid thing in her world. But she pulled away. Just enough to breathe, just enough to force it back and stop before she lost herself completely.

"Ash..." She whispered, forehead pressing against his, body still trembling from the aftershock of whatever was happening between them,

Her voice broke as she forced herself to say it- not believe a single word she uttered. "I'm not ready. Not here." It nearly killed her to speak, because they weren't true. She wanted this. She accepted this. She needed this. She craved this. But she needed to be sure- needed him to tell her exactly what was happening in the moment that fate had decided for them both. Fingers shook as she pressed against his chest, golden eyes still burning, still searching his face.

It was cruel, terribly unfair, to ask him to wait while this bond was screaming for them to complete what they had started. But she couldn't give herself to him until she understood.
 
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Asher's breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body thrumming with the aftermath of whatever had just ignited between them. His grip on Vespera tightened for a moment, as if he could hold onto the fire, keep the storm from receding. But she was already pulling back, her trembling words slicing through the haze of magic and hunger.

He should have expected this. Should have known that something so powerful—so utterly consuming—couldn’t just happen without a second of hesitation, of fear. Because he felt it too. This wasn’t just a kiss. It wasn’t just want. It was something deeper, rawer, more dangerous than either of them had been prepared for.

His forehead stayed pressed to hers, their breath mingling, his hands still wrapped around her thighs, holding her against him. Even now, even as she tried to slow this down, magic coiled between them, refusing to be ignored.

.She was shaking. So was he

A muscle in his jaw flexed as he forced himself to steady his breathing, to fight against the primal urge still clawing at him. His. She was his. The magic had decided, but that didn’t mean he could take. That wasn’t what this was. That wasn’t who he was.

Asher let out a slow, shaky exhale, his grip loosening, though not by much. He lowered her back to her feet, though he wasn’t sure he could let go entirely. His voice was rough, strained when he finally spoke.

“I know.. Sorry, I...” the words died on his tongue and he swallowed, shame settling in his chest.

But she mattered more.

His hand slid from her thigh, tracing along her side, lingering against her ribs as if memorising the shape of her. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second before meeting hers again, those golden irises still burning, still pulling him in. He let his hands fall, even thought if it felt like fighting against the current of a river too strong to resist.

She had been angry, likely still would be, she was confused and afraid.. But she had not rejected him. His eyes were crushed emeralds as he stared at her in awe, as though seeing her for entirely the first time. She had never been more beautiful to him than she did now, standing in the rain, her mouth swollen from kissing him, her cheeks flushed. His.

"I didn't think you.. I thought you'd walk away.. You've already given me everything.." he frowned, not expecting her to understand what he meant. "I will wait lifetimes if that is what you need. I'm ... I'm not going anywhere." It nearly killed him to say it. To mean it. To fight against every instinct screaming at him to finish what had started, to claim her the way the magic was demanding. But he would wait.

The storm between them didn’t fade, didn’t lessen. It only churned, waiting.

"Are you alright?..." he asked, his fingers twitching at his sides with the urge to touch her, but fear of pushing her away stopped him. Asher was no stranger to feeling vulnerable, but gods he had never known true vulnerability until now as he stood there in the rain, waiting. Now that someone held the power to destroy him entirely.
 
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Vespera immediately regretted pulling way. The moment his grip loosened, the moment her feet touched the ground again, she felt cold. Like something vital had been stripped until she was bare. Her body still hummed with the magic, the bond, surging between them- his magic latching onto her soul after she had nothing to reciprocate, refusing to let her go.

She was glad it couldn't let go. She didn't want it to.

But she had stopped them, she had been the one to pull back. And yet, the second she felt the distance growing between them, she wished she could undo it. She needed to close the space again, to keep holding onto him. Even as his hands fell away, his voice came out low and strained- apologizing. She felt his disappointment. Not anger. Not rejection- gods, she was not rejecting him like he had done to her. It was just something aching.

Her breath shuddered and she reached for him, grabbing his wrist before he could step any further away. "Don't." Her voice was frantic. Cracked and urgent. "Don't step away." She sucked in a breath, barely keeping herself together as the chill of the rain settled in her bones. She was barely holding back the instinct to pull him back up against her, to chase what high they had just experienced.

Her fingers clenched around his wrist. Not tight, not desperate, just there. Just holding on to him because she could. Because she needed to. That unspoken storm still churned between them, pulling at them, demanding more.

Vespera swallowed, her voice softer now. "I'm not stopping this, Ash." She lifted her gaze to his. She could feel the raw hunger in the crushed emeralds- the way he was looking at her like she was everything. And strangely, she understood it. She felt it, too. "I'm not. I just...I don't know what any of this means."

"My entire life...the idea of mates had been fiction. A myth. It was some old fairy tale that had never been more than a joke between me and..." She paused, looking away from his face. "Merenor never bothered to teach me about it...But it's real? And I have no idea what it means." Her voice cracked with her honesty. "It terrifies me."

She still felt him inside her- his emotions, magic, his presence woven into her like a thread that could never be untangled. She was not rejecting the bond. She knew that. But how was she supposed to move forward with something she didn't understand. With something that may guarantee she is nothing more than his burden for the rest of her life?

"Tell me about it." She demanded, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she looked up at him. Her hands still shook from the storm raging in her heart, from the cold of the storm raging around them. "Tell me what you know about it, Ash. Tell me what it means. Tell me who else knows." Because if he had known, if he had been keeping this from her...for how long? The thought had her heart stuttering, the possibility that she had spent years beside him completely oblivious to the truth.

To the bond.

To her mate.
 
  • Cthuloo
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Asher's heart jolted the moment her fingers wrapped around his wrist. The storm in his chest stilled—not completely, but just enough for him to breathe again. Just enough for him to believe that she wasn’t slipping through his fingers. His stomach twisted at the desperation in her voice, in the way she held him there, grounding him, anchoring them both to this fragile, unspoken thing between them.

'I'm not stopping this, Ash.'

The knot in his throat loosened. The agony of her pulling away, of the bond howling at the space between them, ebbed just slightly. His other hand rose before he could stop it, knuckles grazing the rain-soaked skin of her cheek, stopping beneath her chin. He tilted her face toward him, his thumb barely skimming over her jaw as he exhaled a deep, uneven breath.

“I’ll tell you everything I know.” His voice was rough, steady. A promise. “But let’s get out of the rain first...”

A half-smirk ghosted over his lips, the faintest crease at the corners of his eyes, though there was nothing playful about the way he looked at her. Only warmth. Only knowing.

Asher took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers like it was the most natural thing in the world, and led her to the riverside. The canopy was thicker here, the rain a soft patter against the leaves above, and he guided her beneath the ancient Oak where he had been sleeping for the past few weeks. A lean-to shelter rested against the cradle of gnarled roots, rough but sturdy—temporary.

1740682394288.png

He let go of her hand only to shake the leaves from the blanket draped over a low-hanging branch. Without a word, he wrapped it around her shoulders, his fingers rubbing the fabric against her upper arms in some attempt to warm her.

In an instant, the fire was lit, its golden glow flickering against the rain-dampened earth. He sank down within the roots, stretching his hands toward the heat, before glancing up at her.

“It’s not much,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, rougher. “But it’s been home for a little while.” His gaze flickered toward the trees, something unreadable passing through his expression. “I’ll figure out where to go later. Just… one thing at a time.”

And for now, that one thing was her.
 
Last edited:
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Hand in hand, Vespera followed him. Her fingers curled around his own on instinct as he led her deeper into the unfamiliar trees. Merenor would have lectured her for following so blindly and she didn't know if it was the bond making it feel so natural, or something else entirely. She didn't let herself think too hard on it.

The shelter was simple and obviously meant to be temporary. But it smelled like Ash. Like pine and ember and something darker, something so uniquely Ash. It curled around her, familiar and unavoidable, and something in her cracked knowing that he wasn't lying. This had been his home. Or at least the closest think he had to one during his months away.

But there was something off about it. As she stood beneath the oak's broad canopy, arms wrapped in tightly under the blanket he'd draped around her, the fabric still warmed where his hands had sought to warm her. It lacked something here. Something indescribable.

Her gaze flickered over the ground Ash sat on, to the roots of the oak, trees looming overhead. It was wrong. Not home. Not the Elderglen. Her brows furrowed. "Where are we?" She asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "This isn't the Elderglen."

She didn't feel it here. There was no hum of magic in the roots, no whispers in the leaves. No living pulse of the sacred land that had always surrounded her. This place was...different. Quieter. Hollow.

The only part of it that felt right was the white-haired male warming his hands over the fire.

When he didn't immediately answer, she turned back toward him, watching the glow flicker against his sharp features. His expression had shifted to something she couldn't decipher. Something distant. She sighed heavily and sat down beside him, the weight of the weeks settling in her bones.

"You're lucky, you know." She muttered, tugging the blanket tighter around herself. "Just conjuring up fire like it's nothing." She rolled her eyes, her voice edged with something wry. "Must be nice to never be cold."

There was an odd, lingering silence. She wasn't sure what exactly to do.

Vespera could still feel the warmth of his hands where it lingered on her arms. Still felt the way he touched her without hesitation like it was simply an instinct. She wished he hadn't let go. She exhaled slowly, staring into the fire. Listening to the way it crackled and burned so easily.

It's been home for a while. I'll figure out where to go later.

She wondered if that plan included her. Her throat tightened. She didn't want to ask. So she changed the subject before she could break her own heart. Her fingers curled against the blanket, gripping tightly as she finally broke the silence. "What were you doing while you were gone?" She didn't look at him. Couldn't.

But she could still feel the way his body moved when she asked. "And why did you leave?" Her voice had softened. It was quieter, more fragile.

He had wanted her to fight with him. Wanted her to push back harder, to scream at him and give him a reason to stay- even if it was just to argue. But she hadn't. She let him slip right through her fingers. She had left him when he needed her to stay. That was her fault.
 
"We're somewhere close to the border of the Spring Court. Near the leylines." His voice was quiet, almost distant. Closer to you. The only thing that had made the ache bearable.

He watched as she settled beside him, the firelight flickering across her face. A quiet breath of laughter escaped him at her comment about his fire. “I wasn’t always good at it.” He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if the memory lived beneath his skin. “It took me much longer than my brothers to show any power. Too long. My father grew impatient, and weakness isn’t tolerated.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

He stole a glance at her, nerves twisting in his gut. Gods, when had he ever felt like this around a female? It was ridiculous how nervous he felt. He wanted to reach out, to pull her against him, but he wasn't entirely sure whether the boundaries lay. Whether she wanted him to.

Her questions lingered in the silence between them for a long moment before he spoke.

He exhaled, running a hand through his wet hair. “I left because I was alone. I’ve always been alone.. And as you so rightly pointed out, I'm a fucking coward.” He gave a humourless laugh. “I got used to being something to fear, to hate, to pity—but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I thought maybe if I left, I could change something. Find someone who could fix this..” His fingers curled into a fist as he looked down at the runes inked there.

“But all I found was that I couldn’t go a single damn minute without thinking about you. That it fucking ached every time I did, until I could barely breathe.."

He shook his head, staring into the fire. “I tried to make it stop. I tried to outrun it. But it just got worse. The only time it eased, even a little, was when I got close to the leylines. So I stayed here. Closer.”

His voice dropped lower. “Until I felt your pain. I heard you scream.” His jaw clenched, firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. “I have never known rage like it, Vess. Never wanted to burn the world down the way I did when I felt your pain.” His eyes flicked to hers, glinting with something raw. “And then I saw your scars.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Fuck, I wanted to kill anyone who had so much as breathed near you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as he looked away, fixing his gaze on the fire. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this.” His voice was quieter now, heavier. “It could have been anyone. Someone stronger. Someone better.”

He let out a bitter laugh, tilting his head forward, shoulders bowing. “But instead, you were bound to me.”

His fingers curled against his knee. “I won’t force this on you. I won’t ask for anything from you.” He exhaled slowly. “But I can’t pretend this bond doesn’t exist. I can’t pretend I don’t feel you in every breath, in every heartbeat.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “And I don’t want to.”

He didn’t think he could survive letting her go.
 
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For a while, Vespera sat in silence, watching him, listening. The fire cast shadows that shift across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the exhaustion in his eyes. He looked tired. Tired of running. From this...from her. He spoke like a man who'd already lost, like he'd convinced himself there was no path forward- only a slow, inevitable descent into his own ruin.

She hated watching this happen to him.

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the blanket as he spoke of Aerion, Ash's inadequacies with magic, weakness, his father's impatience and a childhood where failure was met with something worse than disappointment. Even Fionn, who'd never been gifted as strongly as his two brothers in combat, never seemed to be the target of their father's fury. Her throat tightened with his concluding thought. Weakness isn't tolerated.

She had never heard this story, how Asher came into his magic, how he'd become the man sitting beside her right now. She had always assumed that he'd been more like Rivain- naturally gifted, naturally strong. But now. He'd been more like her, in a way. But something was clear to her. Whatever happened, had been slow and painful. A process that left scars she could never see.

Her eyes flickered to his face, fingers tightening into a fist. But the question she wanted to ask didn't come yet. And Asher continued speaking. Her heart broke anew.

I left because I was alone.

She thought back to all the years she spent fighting, proving, screaming just to be heard in a world that never wanted her there to begin with. But even then, even at her loneliest, she had never been truly alone. Even when Merenor died. Not like this. Not like him.

Ash had carried all of this pain and loneliness by himself.

For centuries. For longer than Vespera had even been alive.

Her chest tightened as he spoke of running, trying to escape, failing to erase her from his mind and alleviate some of the pressure from the weight of their bond. Escape from feeling her pain. From hearing her screams. Vespera swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. But she let him finish talking.

And when he did, shoulders bowed, when his voice dropped to something so raw and heartbreaking- when he had wished it could have been anyone...

Should have been someone better...

Before she could stop herself, before she could let herself think too much about what he'd said and what it meant, she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and pulled him in against her. He stiffened for a moment, like he wasn't used to being held, like the touch of another, of Vespera, startled him more than anything else. She didn't say anything at first, just let her arms stay there, wrapped around him tightly, anchoring him to the way she wished someone had anchored her all the years ago when she felt like nothing. Like she wished someone anchored Ash when he had been alone.

"You are not a burden to me." She whispered. "I need you to understand something. I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of the bond." She held tighter, she wouldn't let him pull away. "I just...It's new...Scary.." She paused and looked up at him. "It could have been anyone stronger, sure. But there isn't anyone better than you." She had never needed a savior. She had only ever wanted a choice. And it was clear that she had made it.

She chose him.
 
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For a moment, Asher didn’t move.

Her warmth surrounded him—the weight of her arms, the steady press of her body against his. It was foreign. Unfamiliar. He had never expected this. Not from Vespera. Not after everything.

He had spent centuries learning how to withstand pain, how to endure suffering in silence. But this—this—was something else entirely. His breath caught in his throat, his entire body going rigid beneath the weight of her embrace. Not because he didn’t want it, but because he did. More than anything.

The blanket settled over his shoulders, her scent threading through the fabric, wrapping around him as tightly as her arms. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, Asher felt safe.

Her voice was soft, but her words struck like lightning, searing through the darkness that had twisted inside him for centuries.

"You are not a burden to me."

His eyes clenched shut.

"I am not afraid of you. I am not afraid of the bond."

His fingers twitched, aching to hold on.

"It could have been anyone stronger, sure. But there isn’t anyone better than you."

He exhaled sharply, something breaking open inside him—something raw and frayed at the edges, something he had long since forgotten how to name. It wasn’t the bond compelling her to say those words. It wasn’t fate forcing her hand. She chose him.

The truth of it settled deep in his bones, in the spaces he had tried to keep hidden. He let it sink in, let it wrap around his ribs like something solid, something real. And then, at last, he moved.

His muscles eased, the tension bleeding from his body as he shifted. His arms lifted, strong and steady as they wrapped around her, pulling her fully against his chest, folding the blanket around them both.

A slow breath escaped him, one he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. His lips found the crown of her head, pressing a kiss into her hair, lingering there as if he could will the moment to last forever. And then, with a quiet exhale, his chin rested there, the weight of him settling around her like something unshakable, something unyielding.

"Vespera..." Her name was barely a whisper, reverent and disbelieving all at once. The name of his mate. Fuck, he wished he'd known so much sooner. He closed his eyes, tightening his hold just slightly.

He had spent so long running. But he wasn’t running anymore.

For a long moment, Asher didn’t say anything. He just held her, breathing her in, letting the silence settle around them like the embers of the fire flickering low. His throat tightened. He wasn’t sure he deserved this. But gods, he wanted it. Wanted her.

"I don’t know how to be what you need." The words were quiet, hesitant, as if voicing them might somehow shatter whatever fragile thing was settling between them. "I don’t even know if I know how to be… this."

He swallowed, "But I want to try." His voice was rough, raw in a way he hadn’t let himself sound before.
 
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Vespera melted into him, body pressing fully against his as his arms tightened around her. The warmth of the fire couldn't stave off the chill still creeping through her body, but this-his arms- did. His touch, his scent, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest against her head. The way he held onto her like he was afraid of letting go.

Her teeth still chattered slightly, a soft shiver running through her from the damp fabric clinging to her skin, but she didn't care. She only curled herself further into him, burrowing into the safety of his embrace as if it was exactly where she belonged. She closed her eyes and exhaled softly as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't fighting to be seen. Wasn't fighting to be wanted. He chose her.

She swallowed hard, keeping her face tucked in against his chest where she could listen to his heartbeat, steadily thundering beneath his skin.

I don't know how to be what you need.

The words struck something deep, a wound that never quite healed. She understood him. Too well. She had spent her entire life never being what anyone needed. She hadn't been enough for Merenor's teachings. Hadn't been enough for the Elderglen. Hadn't been enough for the boy who she one loved, the one who had left her without a second thought. Had never been enough for the one who left her in the forest to become someone else's problem when she was only a baby.

No one had ever needed her. Not really. Even as she fought, she had bled for them, she had survived, no one had ever wanted her to stay.

Until now.

Until him.

And for the first time, she didn't feel like she had to fight to be here.

Her fingers curled tightly into his tunic, shivering as she whispered. "I don't know how to be what you need either." She swallowed hard with her confession. "But maybe we don't have to know that yet." Maybe trying was enough. Maybe just choosing one another was enough for now.

Vespera could still feel tension coiled beneath his skin, the weight of everything still unspoken between them. She wished she could convince him that this wasn't a mistake. That whatever he thought of himself, whatever ruin he was sure he would bring her didn't matter to her.

She wasn't going anywhere.

Vess shifted slightly, her damp clothes clinging uncomfortably to her skin, cold still creeping in despite the fire and the warmth of Asher's arms around her. She let out a slow breath, desperately fighting off a yawn- and failing. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to her.

Her fingers tugged at the edge of the blanket still wrapped around them both, tilting her chin slightly to look at him. "Did you have a bedroll here?" She murmured, peeling back the tunic sticking to her skin. "We should probably dry our clothes and sleep..."
 
Asher let out a slow breath, reluctant to release her but aware of the chill still clinging to her skin. He could feel the way she trembled against him, the way she curled into his warmth like she was trying to absorb it. The fire could do little against the damp, but he had fire in his veins, and the cold bothered him little..

She wasn’t so lucky.

His brows furrowed, displeased at the thought, but he nodded and slowly loosened his arms from around her. The absence of her warmth was immediate, but he pushed the feeling aside as he stood, reaching down to help her up.

"Get out of those clothes and get warm. You can wrap up in the blanket." His voice was quieter now, but firm, as he grabbed the bedroll and tossed it across the ground near the fire.

Asher found himself hesitating, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should. Every time he looked at her, she seemed to become more beautiful, more real—like something he had spent centuries convincing himself he would never have.

His mouth went dry.

"I’ll, uh—" he cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck as he forced himself to look away. Gods, he was centuries old, and yet she made him feel like some untested boy stumbling over his own words. With a forced air of nonchalance, he turned, casually strolling around the tree to give her the space she needed.
 
Burning. Bright pink. The second the words left his mouth- get out of those clothes- her entire body flushed. Heat flooded her face, racing down her neck, her arms, her chest. A slow horrified realization settled, her thoughts tripping over themselves as she tried to not make the moment worse. He wasn't suggesting anything beyond helping her warm up. He wasn't even thinking about it like that.

And yet, she avoided his gaze, embarrassed to look at him, to even see if he noticed the way the tip of one of her ears burned. There was no reason for her to be so flustered. NONE. They were adults. They were mates. They were bound together. But none of that mattered because as soon as he realized what he had said, as soon as his voice stumbled and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, it became too clear that she was not the only one who had thought about it.

Awkward.

She felt it- a living, breathing thing now in the air between them. Gods, had they always been this awkward? It was so much worse now that a bond tethered them, wrapping them up with an invisible thread that tugged and pulled her until she felt like it was urging her forward, urging to her move closer to him. But he turned away.

Coward.

A smirk ghosted her face. Then, after a moment of waiting, just enough to make sure he was far enough away, she moved. Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the laces of her own tunic, peeling wet fabric off of her skin. The cold hit immediately, biting at her now bare arms, her stomach, and, after peeling off her pants, her thighs. She grimaced, quickly stripping away the rest. Underclothes and all.

A shiver rolled through her as she draped everything over a low hanging branch, hoping the fire's heat would dry them faster. The blanket was only slightly warmer than nothing, but she wrapped it tightly around herself, stepping across the ground before lowering herself onto the bedroll.

The moment she laid down, she felt it. The bond. Incessant. It buzzed beneath her skin, humming and growing louder ever since she had kissed him. Tugging. Pulling. Wanting. Her body ached in a way it had never before, an unfamiliar, primal yearning that fought for control. Be near him. Be with him.

The thought sent another wave of warmth across her skin, one she fought and failed to push down.

She turned her head slightly, toward where he had walked away. The distance between them felt wrong. Too far. And when she finally spoke up, there was an edge of uncertainty lingering in it. "Are you just going to hide over there all night?" She wasn't going to ask him to lay beside her. She wasn't. No.

No.

But if he chose to? She certainly would not stop him. It would save them both from the cold anyway. Survival instincts...or something...
 
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Asher leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, exhaling a slow breath as he tried—tried—to think about anything other than the way she had looked at him before he walked away. The way she had felt pressed against him. The way she smelled—all rain and embers and wildflowers.

And now? Now she was a few steps away, bare, stripping out of those wet clothes, the firelight flickering and casting shadows he refused to picture.

But his mind betrayed him.

The thought of her skin, damp and exposed to the cold, sent a sharp pulse through him, his blood burning hotter than it should have. His jaw tightened. He forced himself to stare up at the trees, at the endless dark stretching above them, and not think about the fact that she was right there. Wrapped in his blanket. On his bedroll. The one where he had spent weeks thinking of her, dreaming of her, aching with something he hadn’t dared put words to.

And now she was his.

That should have made this easier. It didn’t.

He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling harshly, until her voice—soft, uncertain, teasing—broke the fragile hold he had on himself.

His pulse thumped. He peeked around the side of the tree, raising a brow.

"I wasn’t hiding... I was being gentlemanly," he answered, a touch indignantly, before stepping back into the fire’s glow.

And there she was.

Curled up in the blanket, her hair still damp, her skin still carrying the telltale flush of warmth and something else—something he didn’t let himself think too hard about. She looked small wrapped up like that, but her eyes, reflecting the flames as she watched him, gave away everything her words didn’t say.

His lips twitched into a half-smile as he crouched beside the fire, poking at the embers with a stick, watching the flames catch and curl higher.

After a beat, he moved.

He lay down beside her, shifting until she fit against him like she had before, like she belonged there. His arm instinctively curled around her, pulling her against his chest, where she was warm, where she was safe, where the scent of her filled every part of his senses until there was nothing else.

"Get some sleep," he murmured, voice low, rough at the edges.

"We’ll figure some things out in the morning."
 
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