Private Tales The Starling and the Bear

Lynus laughed softly under his breath, shaking his head as her brows arched at him.
“No more, I promise,” he teased, though there was a quiet warmth in his eyes as he watched her clutch her stomach.

When her plea came, he sobered. A sigh escaped him as he leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, his fingers threading gently into her hair. “I promise,” he murmured against her skin. “You are safe. We are safe. Nobody knows where we are but us."

He drew in a slow, steadying breath. “We’re both free now. Lord and Lady Caerwyn,” he said at last, tasting the name as though it might settle around them like armour.

The ache in his chest flared, the thought of Arryn never far, but it only made him more determined to reclaim some happiness. His brother had given his life for it, and he wouldn’t waste it.

His hand slid from her hair to cup her cheek, a faint smile breaking through. “And tonight, wife,” he said softly, “I’m taking you out.”

Lynus’ quiet laugh rumbled against her as he shook his head slightly.
“You’re beautiful,” he corrected softly, his lips curving into a smile.

“And Caerwyn,” he murmured, letting the name linger in the air between them, “means ‘blessed fortress.’ It means a fresh start. It means that you are safe, and loved—” his lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, then her cheek “—and it means the same for our children.”

“Bleugh,” Brett muttered from his post on the couch, making a face. “Come on, Duke. We’ll go explore whilst these two are bein’ disgustin’.” He swiped an apple from the table and bolted for the door, the hound bounding after him with a happy bark.

Lynus chuckled against Isla’s lips, stealing a few more kisses before pulling back just enough to grin.
“We have a couple of hours spare…” he murmured, words broken by another kiss, “if you’d… like to… get acquainted with… our new suite.”

The wolfish grin that followed had barely formed before he dragged her to her feet and swept her into his arms.

---

Oban at night was alive. The warm air carried the scent of spiced wine and roasted meats and candied fruits, and glowing orbs floated above the cobblestone streets, bobbing like playful dragonflies as they lit the way. Music drifted from the open doors of taverns and street corners where performers played, and laughter spilled from every direction.

Lynus felt his chest loosen with every step. It was easier to breathe here. Easier to just be. His fingers laced with Isla’s, thumb brushing over her knuckles as they walked - no guards shadowing them, no whispers following them, no one recognising them. Just another couple out enjoying the night.

They wandered into one of the many squares scattered across the city. Restaurants and taverns framed the open space, lanterns swaying overhead, and in the middle, a fountain sang beneath the music of a quartet.

Lynus stopped, turning to face her, his eyes warm and mischievous. Then he spun her lightly by the hand and drew her back toward him, his other hand sliding to her waist.

“Might I have the first dance with my wife?” he asked with a smirk.

He held her close as they swayed, the music drifting around them. When she looked up at him, Lynus met her gaze, his own softened by the glow of lantern light. One hand rose to cup her face, thumb brushing tenderly over her cheek as though memorising her in the moment.

“So fucking beautiful…” he breathed, the words almost to himself before his lips curved faintly, and he sighed as she spoke of the brothel.

“And I was just as terrible to you. An angry, drunk man in a brothel,” he admitted with a quiet, rueful laugh. “But I saw you smile, and it was the first time I’d felt anything other than pain and rage in so long.” His brow furrowed slightly, but he kept them moving in time with the distant music, rocking her gently.

“I was lost,” he said softly, as though confessing something sacred. “And I would have been again if not for you.”

He dipped his head to return her kisses with a soft sigh before pulling her fully against his chest, wrapping her in his arms.

“I’d never have had the courage to do this, if not for you. Every time I tried to run before, I never made it further than Bess’.” His breath left him in a quiet laugh, touched with disbelief at how far they’d come.

Then he drew back just enough to look at her again, voice steady, sure.

“But this, my blessing…” his thumb stroked along her jaw, his eyes warm and intent. “This is the life I want for us. For our children. You deserve to be loved, by me, by the people around you and the city you live in. Lets make it our home."

His eyes creased with a smile as he looked down at her, seeing the shimmer in her lashes again.
“Sentimental? Me?..” he chuckled under his breath, pressing her in closer. “I’ll try my best,” he teased gently, his arms tightening around her.

At her questions, his mouth curved into a smirk and he gave a thoughtful hum. “I’ve no preference.. Either way, he or she will be the most loved child ever born.” His grin tugged wider, boyish for a moment. “An army though, hm?.. Maybe not a whole battalion. A squadron perhaps. One of each might be nice to start with.” He gave a half shrug, laughing softly. “Let’s see how we manage the first before we get ahead of ourselves and order a dozen.”

When she spoke of Brett, Lynus’ expression softened, his humour folding into something steadier. He nodded once, firm. “Brett is family,” he said quietly. “He was Arryn’s son, but I’ll take care of him as though he were my own. He’ll want for nothing. Whatever his ambitions, I’ll see him set on the right path.”

He lowered his head, his lips brushing against her hair as his voice dropped.
“What do you think of Hope, if it’s a girl?..” he asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of her head.

Lynus nodded as she spoke of Brett, a smile tugging faintly at his lips.
“He reminds me very much of Arryn at his age…” he murmured, though the words pressed hard against the ache in his ribs.

When she spoke of her fears for a daughter, his brow knit, and he cupped her face in both hands, tilting her gaze back to his. He frowned softly at the crack in her voice, but when she laughed about her ‘feral madness,’ he couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Girl or boy, they’ll have all the freedom they want,” he promised firmly. Then his brows rose with mock solemnity. “Other than, of course, if it’s a girl, she won’t be free to marry until she’s at least thirty-five.” His head bobbed as though the decree were final, his expression a picture of reason.

He broke into a grin before pressing a kiss to her lips, lingering there.
“I hope they’re exactly like you,” he said against her mouth. “In every way. You are perfect. And you were always meant to have this, Starling. You were meant to have everything you’ve ever wanted.” His eyes roamed her face with quiet awe before a smirk broke through.

“Fuck, our kids are going to be gorgeous.” he grinned.

When she whispered the name she had considered for their son, though, it hit him square in the chest. His throat tightened, his jaw working as he swallowed down the surge of feeling. He kissed her back instead, long and slow, his thumbs brushing tenderly along her cheeks.

When he finally broke just enough space to breathe, he laughed softly against her lips, voice hushed.
“Now who’s getting sentimental?..” he teased, though his voice was rough. “I love it. And I love you.”

Lynus barked a laugh at her “divorcing” remark, shaking his head as he leaned down to steal another kiss.
“Not a chance, wife. You’d make half of Oban swoon and I’d have to duel every bloody one of them until you decided I was worth remarrying.” His grin widened, though his eyes softened at the tears trembling on her lashes. He kissed her once more, not caring in the slightest that the music had stilled, that a few curious eyes lingered on them. He only swayed with her, as though the world existed solely for them.

At her questions about his family, he sighed through his nose, lips brushing her hair.

“He’s not known for being particularly kind, no,” he admitted. “But… he was to me, when I was a boy..”
He hesitated, lowering his voice as his gaze flicked discreetly around them. “I’ve one cousin. And there were… unsettling stories about him.” His expression hardened a fraction, though he held her closer, protective even here.

“The wealthy thrive here,” he went on, voice quiet, “and those without do not. Like any city, I suppose. But in Oban, there’s a ruthlessness about it. Wealth and status mean everything. They flaunt their riches while the poorest starve.” His mouth pressed to her temple, lingering there, as though to ward her against such ugliness. “They are superstitious of women with power. And here, the women with magic are often stronger than the men. So they outlaw its use without permission… and yet they covet it, marrying those same women to strengthen their bloodlines.”

He drew back, sighing. “The Queen, however—” his lips curved into a faint smile “—is quite lovely. And very powerful.”

When Isla teased about his parents, he laughed low in his chest, tipping his head down to kiss her nose before capturing her lips again.

“My mother is a saint,” he said with mock solemnity, “and my father was a pompous teen with a fat inheritance and a good name. That is what she saw in him.” He smirked, resting his forehead against hers.

His hand slid down her back, pulling her into him as he kissed her deeply, heedless of whether the square watched or not. When he broke away, he whispered against her lips, smiling.

“And thank the gods I found you.." he sighed. "Come on.." he smirked, pulling her from the square.

They ate dinner at a little tavern tucked beneath a colonnade, the smell of roasted meats and spiced wine drifting out into the streets. Lantern light painted Isla’s cheeks in soft gold, and every time she laughed, Lynus found himself staring as though he’d never seen her before. Between bites and kisses stolen across the table, they slipped back out into the city’s veins.

Hand in hand, they wandered across arched stone bridges, the canals below glowing with lanterns bobbing gently in the water. Somewhere, a musician played a lilting tune on a flute, children darted between the crowds, tossing flower petals from baskets; and above, high and distant, the dark silhouettes of gryphons circled against the starlit sky. Lynus slowed to watch them, his thumb brushing Isla’s knuckles. “My uncle keeps them near the palace,” he murmured. “Magnificent creatures…"

The streets grew quieter as they left the bustle behind, trading marble and chatter for the lull of the sea. Oban’s white sand stretched out like powdered sugar beneath their feet, soft and warm despite the late hour. The surf lapped in lazy strokes under the moon, and the city’s glow shimmered faintly on the horizon.

Lynus toed off his boots, stepping into the cool edge of the tide before turning to offer his hand to her again. “Come on, Starling,” he said softly, eyes drinking her in as though she were brighter than the stars above them. “Dance with me once more. Just us now.”

Lynus huffed out a breath when she spoke of his mother, his expression softening, shadowed by a hint of ache. “We can write to her…” he murmured, though even as he said it, doubt flickered in his gaze. It was a promise he wasn’t certain he could keep, not with oceans and politics between them. His thumb brushed along Isla’s hand as he added, quieter still, “My sister, too… though my brother—” his mouth quirked into a half-smirk, though there was no real humour in it— “I doubt he’ll be any fonder of me now that I’ve left him first in line.”

Later, on the beach, when her voice faltered and her body stilled against him, his chest tightened with panic instantly. His brow furrowed, heart thudding as he bent his head to catch her eyes. “What? What’s wrong? Are y—” he stopped short when her hand caught his, pressing his palm to her stomach.

He froze, breath caught in his lungs. At first, there was nothing. And then, the faintest shift, a flutter against his hand. His lips parted in disbelief, his chest loosening as all his fear crumbled away in a rush of overwhelming love. The next nudge came, stronger, and his throat worked as he swallowed back the sting in his eyes.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, a laugh catching on it, breaking into a teary smile as he cupped her face and kissed her, once, twice, three times before a resting his forehead against hers. "They're real.." he rumbled, hand still resting against the swell of her stomach..

“That’s our child, Starling. That’s them.”