Private Tales In the Vicinity of Thunder

[Mylo]

Mylo listened. Gods, he tried to listen, his mind clinging to the sound of her voice as though it were the only thing tethering him to this world. Each word wrapped around him like warmth, easing the storm from inside his chest even as the one outside rolled and thundered above them.

But his body was broken, exhausted, and every gentle brush of her thumb, every steady note in her voice tugged him further under. His eyes burned with the weight of sleep, but he fought against it, lids drooping before he forced them open again… only to fail, slowly, finally.

By the time she whispered her question, his lashes were still, his breath soft and shallow. He didn’t stir. His hand remained in hers, slack but holding onto her warmth, as though some small part of him refused to let her go, even in sleep.

 

[Stasya]

She did not want to let her hand leave his. She did not want to leave his side. Again, she told herself that it was not fair to let him wake up in the middle of a storm alone. What if he needed something?

Stasya set aside the book. She found a way to ease down onto her side. Reached behind her for the other blanket she had been ready to put on him if he needed nore warmth. Night would have fallen by now, and no food could be prepared while the promise of rain was on it's way. Some sleep, some rest.

At some point in her sleep, someone had fixed the blanket over her. She would open her eyes, look about the tent, until she saw Nadya sleeping against Cullen.

Stasya's hand was had been freed from Mylo's, but their hands resting side by side.

Slowly, she brought it back. A small press of guilt began to grow in her, that her sister and Cullen came here to find her. That they would have seen her and Mylo, hands together.

She rolled, turning to face Nadya and Cullen.

"What will happen to him?" She asked the quiet.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s voice was low, rough from keeping it to a whisper, his arm tightening around Nadya as though grounding himself. His gaze lingered on Stasya, then drifted back to the boy laid out on the blankets. The boy who's hand he'd wanted to sever from his body the moment he'd walked into this tent..

He let out a slow breath, his jaw working.

“If your sister is right about the Princess, then he won’t die,” he said at last, his tone careful. There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes, though. Cullen had seen first hand how thin mercy could stretch in Thanasis. “But stolen dragon eggs…” his head shook faintly, “they don’t just brush that off. Especially not this one. There’ll be punishment.”

His dark eyes returned to Stasya’s, softer now, though firm in the way they always were when he thought he was looking out for her. “You’ve a kind heart. Too kind sometimes. But he is what he is. A criminal.”

A pause. His thumb absently brushed Nadya’s arm as he pulled her closer into his side. “Don’t get attached,” he repeated, more gently this time, but with an edge of warning she couldn’t mistake.

 

[Stasya]

Stasya could feel it grow, that guilt taking form and shape.

She had grown up to Cullen, welcoming him into her family like every one else had. Had gone to him whenever Nadya had put her foot down, and often blamed Cullen for being in love with her sister whenever he agreed with Nadya's choice but was gentler and more kind about it's approach.

Even now, she knew he spoke with his own voice regardless of his love for Nadya.

"He told me he did not want to do it. That his father and brother called him cruel things for so long..." She had to say it, even if Cullen would hear it only as excuses. "He was surrendering the egg back to you."

Stasya was no lawyer. She was not familiar with the laws as well as those that fought to maintain the system.

"He's good." That feeling of guilt could not squash the adamant knowledge. She trusted her intuition when it came to people, and Stasya saw the good in Mylo.

Unfortunately, Stasya had already grown attached. She did not move from Mylo's side, knowing she should check his temperature soon. Her head turned to look at him, saw his hair tussled over his brow again and she had to fight the urge to smooth it away. "I guess the trial will have to see if he deserves a second chance."

Stasya had met the Princess once before. At her own debut ball, where it was tradition to always extend an invitation to the royal family. Princess Orissa had been dressed in a lovely mauve dress, had smiled with magnetic delight when Stasya was to make introductions before her. The Princess made a comment on how she knew Stasya owned a cat, for the white cat hairs still stuck to both their dresses from their own respective felines.

The people of Thanasis all loved Orissa. The same people also said she was too pure and soft to be the next Queen, that she had no warrior heart like her brothers.

Stasya began to think the same until she heard how she brought a man back to life after death made it's claim, and that the two would be arranged to marry. Many forgot that the Princess learned to heal, and Stasya wanted to do the same. Perhaps one day she could heal someone and have her life forever changed from it.

Her eyes fell onto Mylo's face again.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s jaw tightened as he listened, his thumb pausing against Nadya’s arm. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to bite back what Stasya was saying, but instead he let out a long, weary sigh through his nose. He could see that she wanted to believe him, had already taken a liking to the injured lad. He didn't want to upset her, but there was a reality she had to face.

“And I said I knew nothing at all of my father’s treason,” he murmured, voice steady but carrying that old edge of bitterness. “Didn’t matter. They beat me, left me to rot in a cell. Then they dragged me out, tortured me, burned me with these marks so everyone would see me as nothing but a traitor for the rest of my life. I wasn’t part of my father’s plans at all, Stas. if there were ever any plans..” His dark eyes flicked from the sleeping boy to her, and there was something hard in them now. “Didn’t matter.”

He shifted slightly, lowering his voice further so as not to stir Nadya or Mylo. “I know you want to see the best in everyone. Maybe the boy’s telling the truth. Maybe he’s good. But whether he is or not..” Cullen shook his head, “.. it’s not up to me, or Nadya, or perhaps even Orissa. The Royal family aren’t in the habit of pardoning men who steal from them. Especially not dragon eggs.”

His gaze softened a fraction, but the weight of his words lingered. “So don’t get your hopes up, Stasya. You’ll only make it harder on yourself when they make an example of him.”

 

[Stasya]

His truths were hard to hear.

They made her tense, not looking back his way. Stasya rarely cried before anyone, and she certainly did not want to do so in front of Cullen. "Things are different now." She mumbled, stubborn. "Those of us that saw all this cruelty, we have voices to fight."

Because she had watched Nadya do it for years. Heard the things her sister said whenever someone came to attack the integrity of Cullen and his family. Even over Stasya and their sisters, Nadya was a fierce protector. It opened her eyes to the society they lived in, and Stasya began to sympathise. Even Faye Valimir kept friends that would be deemed questionable, and she would not dare tell Cullen or Nadya this, but the stories Faye shared with Stasya about the lives of many Marked Ones...

Stasya wanted to help make a difference in this world. Even if she could not fix it in her lifetime, she would want her future children to learn how to be strong and fight for what they love and thought was right.

Just like their Aunt Nadya.

"There is no use hating things we can change." Still, Stasya did not turn her face towards Cullen. "I hear what you have said Cully, but I aspire to help make that change." A new legacy for the Caliar name.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s head tilted, and for a few moments, he just watched her in silence; the defiance in her shoulders, the tremor she was trying to disguise in her voice. He’d seen that same fire in Nadya countless times, but from Stasya… it was quieter. Softer. The sort of courage that bloomed out of love, not anger. And that, somehow, always hurt to look at.

“I know you do,” he said finally, his tone quieting, losing that sharp edge it often carried when he spoke of the city and its ways. “And I know you mean it.”

He sighed, long and low, leaning back slightly as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, little sister. You can’t take responsibility for every injured thing you heal, or don’t. You need to harden your heart a little to the truth that sometimes things don’t go the way they should, no matter how good you are, or how much you care. It’s not fair, none of it is, but it’s not always ours to fix.”

His dark gaze drifted toward Mylo, his brow furrowing. “I saw the lad's father call for his death. Whatever he did or didn’t do, that much I’ll swear to before the Princess. Whether it earns him any leniency, I'm not sure..” He shrugged slightly, but his jaw flexed - that was as much as he could offer.

Then, at last, his gaze softened again when he looked back at her. “Now, get some sleep, Stas,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “You’ll need all that energy for the change you’re planning to bring about.”

The smirk faded into something fonder. “Just… make sure the world doesn’t change you first.”

 

[Stasya]

"In your own bed." Grumbled Nadya. Stas breathed heavily, eyes fixing on her sister, but Nadya returned to slumber soon after.
Stasya could not help it, but she had to stifle her laughter.
She looked to Cullen, warmth in her eyes again. "I just need to change his bandages and then I will go rest."

---

The return to Thanasis was smooth as the skies after the storm.
Stas rode with Nadya, Kalyss large enough to carry a third rider if there had been a saddle large enough. Nadya did not lecture Stas on anything to do with Mylo other than to ask about his injuries. She had been grateful not to be needled into by her sister, and thought perhaps the eldest Caliar sister had heard the conversation between her and Cullen.
Upon return, the Princess waited for them. She was beautiful, even more so with her own dragon coiled around her. Her Gilded Wings gave her a wide berth, save for the Captain who stood nearest to the Princess. Stasya had been about to follow Faye and their charge towards the camp, but Nadya pulled her back.
"Stay. In case Her Highness has questions."
Debrief took hours. The day had been growing warm under the sun, and Stas was feeling the heat more than the others until Kalyss nudged her under his front left leg. She rested there, waiting for the Thunder and the Princess to finish their talks. All the while, she could feel another set of eyes on her. When she turned, she spied the other Storm Dragon peering at her. Stasya had thought nothing of it until Kalyss saw what she had been looking to, and he let out a territorial growl.
Nadya turned towards them, watching a moment before turning back. Moments after that, the riders and royal entourage parted ways.
Her sister went to approach Esdyr, spoke in Old Thanasian in low tones. Stasya recognised very little, only learning High Thanasian but spoke better in modern.

She turned to Cullen, frowning. "Did the Princess say anything about pardoning My— the prisoner..?"

 

[Cullen]

Cullen had said little during the debrief, staying beside Nadya like a shadow while she gave her report to the Princess. The exchange had been formal and tense, hours of recounting the ambush, the pursuit, and the deaths that followed. When his turn came, Cullen’s voice was steady, his words clipped but clear. He spoke of the youngest brother’s surrender, of how his father had given the dragon the order to throw him and then turned his weapon on Nadya, forcing Cullen’s hand. The boy hadn't seemed to have wanted any part in it, if his brothers' verbal abuse was anything to go by, and so Cullen told the Princess as much, for Stasya's sake.

"He didn't really seem.. Part of the family. Or in agreement with the plan. And so they thought him worthless enough to prefer him dead.. Not that you'll care much for my opinion, but the facts stand and i'll give it anyways. Charge them separately, the lad doesn't deserve the same level of whatever punishment you had in mind."

He made no apologies for killing the man. He’d been armed, dangerous, and had aimed at his wingleader - that was the truth, and Cullen would stand by it. "My only regret on that matter is that the old man had been less of a prick and had the good sense to come quietly, alas..."

Cullen did, however, concede again to silence under Nadya’s glare, his jaw tight, eyes on the ground while the others continued.

When the ordeal finally ended, Cullen stretched in the sun with a low groan, dragging a hand down his face as he wandered over to Stasya, “Well, that’s several hours of my life I’ll never get back. I don’t know how your sister does this political shite without throwing someone off a balcony.”

She looked tired, the heat having drawn colour to her cheeks, and still, she’d stayed through every word of the proceedings. He sighed, his arm coming around her shoulders, loose and protective.

“Your My-prisoner,” he said quietly, “is being held for now. They’ll need time to decide what’s to be done with him. I told them what I said I would.. Its out of our hands..”

He studied her a moment longer, brow furrowing slightly. “But tell me why you felt the need to wait out here all day to find out?” he asked, tone gentle despite the words. “Did you listen to anything I said before we left camp? You can’t help everyone, Stas. You’ll tear yourself apart trying.”

The hand on her shoulder squeezed once, lightly. His voice dropped to something softer. “I know your heart’s in the right place, but you’ve got to be careful. That sort of kindness burns fast. You’ll lose yourself if you don’t guard it.”

 

[Mylo]

Mylo had slept for the first time in what felt like days, and only because Stasya had been there, and perhaps thanks to a little too much blood loss. Her voice, soft and sure, had grounded him in a way nothing else could. Even when pain dragged him back to waking, he’d looked for her.

When they came to move him, his body betrayed him. He was too weak, too sore to stand on his own for long. His legs buckled twice before someone caught his arm and shoved him forward again. Getting him onto a dragon had been a miserable ordeal, his limbs barely responding, every muscle trembling as though he’d been hollowed out.

His brothers hadn’t missed their chance to sneer.
“Dead weight,” one spat. “Leave him. Or let your beasts have a meal before the flight.”

Mylo said nothing. He didn’t have the strength to fight, not even to look at them. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the dragon Stasya rode, the gleam of scales, the way her braid caught the wind. He tried to think only of her stories, her laughter, her quiet curiosity, the light she carried that even this darkness couldn’t dim. If he could just hold on to that, maybe he could forget for a moment, what waited for him in Thanasis.

The flight was long. When they landed, the heat and noise of the city pressed in on him like a suffocating wave. He was led through the corridors of the stronghold and down into the cells, where the air turned cool and damp. His brothers were dragged elsewhere, shouting still, curses, threats, the same poison they’d always spat.

When the door closed on him, it was almost a relief.

The cell was small, stone cold beneath him as he sank to the floor. He could still hear them though, muffled through the walls, their voices sharp and furious, blaming him for everything. For their father’s death. For their failure. For being born weak. And the promises they made to make him wish he'd died in the fall.

He pressed his hands to his ears, curling in tighter despite the pain, until his knees touched his chest. Fear crept in slow at first, then all at once.

So he closed his eyes and saw her instead. Anastasia, bright and kind, with eyes that had looked at him like he was something worth saving. He held on to that image, clinging to it as though it might be enough to keep him from breaking completely.

If he had to die, he wanted her to be the last thing he saw.

 

[Stasya]

“I know your heart’s in the right place, but you’ve got to be careful. That sort of kindness burns fast. You’ll lose yourself if you don’t guard it.”

Stasya knew Cullen meant well. He knew her, watched her grow, and saw her through all her decisions in life. Cullen knew the kind of person she was, protected her even from Nadya's frustrations when they were younger. She stared at him, blue eyes sparkling with gold, and she knew then that she was silent because he was right.

"This... this does not feel like anything else I have experienced before, Cully." Her voice was quiet, wishing to keep it between them as she saw Nadya begin to walk over. "I know what waters I am treading."

And that was what scared her the most. That she trusted this young man that was on the wrong side of justice. That he was someone so sweet and like her... soft and strong.

 

[Nadya]

Reporting back with the General was every bit tedious to deal with, that Nadya dismissed Cullen to take Stasya home. She had said it pointedly, aimedd to her sister, and not to further assist Faye on the boy's healing.

She knew from listening half asleep last night that her sister was soft on the traitor's son. Stasya, who was to become the next Lady of House Caliar... every expectation would be placed on her, and Stasya was a sweet soul that would crumble beneath snide remarks if she were to fall in love with the wrong sort.

And that thought alone angered Nadya. That she fought to be her own person, to fall in love with anyone she pleased, but now expected Stasya to be the very picture she didn't want to be?

The dark mood hung above her like the storm clouds Kalyss could conjure. She had never returned home so often in so long, but walking up to the country house made her feel at home and it began to heal her weary. She knew Stasya would be in her room, perhaps she ought to speak to her eventually, but Nadya caught Cullen in the front room. She stood there in the doorway, staring at him like he was a visit from the past.

She had a familiar memory, as if this had played before, and Nadya began to slowly walk towards him.

"The Princess secured us a week leave in order to prepare for the trial. They do not want to wait..."

 

[Cullen]

Cullen sat in a lavish armchair by the hearth, waiting for her, his gaze distant in the flames. His gaze rose as she stepped into the doorway, and he leaned back slightly in the chair, the fire casting flickering shadows across his face.

His hand lifted slowly, palm open toward her, a silent invitation to his lap, to sit with him.

“Mh…” he murmured, his voice low, roughened slightly by thought and fatigue. His gaze didn’t waver, following her every step as she approached, tracing the familiar lines of her figure with a careful, protective focus.

“Are you alright?” he asked finally, concern threading through his words. It wasn’t a casual question, he meant it, and the slight furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw betrayed how much he already knew she was carrying. His eyes softened as they met hers, waiting, patient, letting her decide whether to take his hand or simply sit near.

 

[Nadya]

On his lap, Nadya fell into his awaiting comfort. She exhaled, and with her next breaths she smelled him. He was a mixture of deepest woods and forests, sweetened with a lingering honey that came from the soaps her younger sisters made. Cullen was her needed comfort. "I am now... for the moment."

She leaned into him, comfortable, but eyes watching that flame as if it played the scene over and over.

"Esdyr recognised Stasya." Nadya began, speaking lowly that only he would hear. She knew her family were in the city, occupying the Caliar House there in the Upper District. "She wishes to bond to Stasya, and I... I cannot stop that from happening. Even Kalyss agrees it would be best, especially with that cunt trying to make trouble." Nadya at least hoped if Ilir was to come near Stasya, that Esdyr, as wild as she could be, would eat him there and then.

The thought made her chuckle, half-hearted, but it brought a smile to her face.

"I... never realised how much she has grown up since I left home. How much of her own person she has become. She used to be all about the parties and the dresses, but... Stasya has changed. Nothing bad about that... I am just terrified of her going into this world."

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s arms wrapped around her the moment she settled into him, his large hands smoothing up and down her back until she melted fully against his chest. He breathed her in, and felt the tightness in his shoulders ease. When she spoke of Esdyr, his brow rose, a faint, disbelieving sound leaving him.

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, a quiet huff of surprise breaking into a low laugh. “She’s—That’s… going to take some adjustment,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Esdyr isn’t what I’d have pictured for her. You’ll need to break that to her gently…”

The words came with a sigh, but there was no criticism in them, just quiet understanding, the kind that came from knowing both Nadya and Stasya as well as he did.

He dipped his head and pressed a slow kiss to the crown of her hair, his thumb tracing small circles over her shoulder as the firelight painted gold across her face.

“Aye, she’s grown,” he murmured, his voice softening. “But she’s strong in her own way. She’s a Caliar through and through, and she’s had you to look up to all her life. She’ll do just fine.”

"As for the trial, what else is there to prepare? We gave our accounts, can't she just, decide?.."

 

[Nadya]

"How can she advocate for fairness when it would be her decision?" She could not help the exasperated quip. "Sorry...." She exhaled heavily, staying there in his arms with the comfortable silence. "I only mean to say that this trial is the start of change. It may work or it might not, but I want to see this future vision of Thanasis the Princess wants to shape. I know you're disdain for her, but I want to believe in those that want the same future as I."

A future where she didn't have to hear the filth spat Cullen's way.

It meant she could feel better about Stasya bonding to a dragon.

"We would need to present our debriefs in writing and repeat the events during the trial. Something to worry about later."

Nadya titled her head back, enough to meet his eyes. His face was a warm glow from the fire, and she drew a hand up to his face to cradle his cheek. Her thumb brushed across his cheekbone. "You are mine." Her smile played at her lips, but her eyes held adoration. They were words she had told him during their tryst in the middle of the storm. "I still cannot believe you have forgiven me."

Her heart ached in many ways. For him, for the betrayal she paid him, and for the fact that she no longer had to look elsewhere to fill the hollow within her. Cullen had always been there, had always been hers but it did not feel real until now.

"But I am grateful that you have. I love that you have been my unwavering right hand man... and I love that you have made a family here with mine. You have always been my answer, Cullen Morvane, my truth." Everything felt right, to have him here in this chair. In this home. The calm to her storm.

Nadya pulled his head down, closing the distance between their lips. Before her own could brush against his, she warmed his lips with a proclamation of her feelings. "I love you."

 

[Cullen]

He sighed when she snapped, “I know,” he murmured quietly. “I just… hope, for your sake, and for Stasya’s, that these changes you both believe in actually take root. Forgive me for being sceptical.” His hand found her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. It wasn’t that he wanted to dampen her fire, he just didn’t want to see her heart broken by a world he’d long since stopped trusting.

The Princess of Thanasis wasn’t the only one he held disdain for. Few in this city had ever called him friend. He had bled so much for its walls, for its crown, for its people who had spat on his name and branded him traitor. He had never been guilty, but Thanasis had made him wear guilt like a shroud all the same.

Then Nadya’s hand touched his face, and just like that, she pulled him out of the mire of his thoughts. His lips curved faintly, that familiar dimple tugging at his cheek as his fingers threaded through her hair. When she whispered that he was hers, he could only nod.

But her next words about forgiveness dulled the warmth of the moment. He had forgiven her. Gods, he had. But forgiveness didn’t erase the scars. It didn’t rebuild what had burned. He didn’t think of Eira; she’d simply done what was expected. What haunted him was Ilir, the bastard who’d walked away knowing he'd won, that he'd taken everything from him again.

And yet, here she was. The one person who could say his full name and not make him flinch because he trusted her enough to know she never meant it with malice or hatred.

When she kissed him, he melted into it, letting the tension bleed out of him until it was just her, her warmth, her breath, her scent. But then she spoke those words and the world seemed to still around him.

He looked at her, drinking her in, the firelight flickering in his dark eyes. When had anyone ever truly loved him? When had he ever believed it? He had spent so long building walls, convincing himself that love was something meant for everyone else. That no one could ever truly want him.

But she did. They had always loved one another as friends but this, this was different, this was deeper.

He wanted to tell her that he loved her too, that she was his heart, his home, the only thing left in this cursed city that made him feel whole. But the words caught in his throat, heavy with fear. He could feel them clawing to be free, and yet he couldn’t let them go.

His chest ached as he swallowed hard. “Everything I love…” he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze shimmered faintly, the flames painting gold across the wetness in his eyes. “This place finds ways of taking it from me.”

He drew her closer, his forehead brushing hers. “And I very much want to keep you.”

 

[Nadya]

Nadya moved her hands to the top of the armchair, using it to help hoist herself to swing one leg to sit on the other side of his lap. She stared down at him, frowning, and dragged her hands down until they draped over his shoulders and rested on his chest. The Wing Leader stared at him a moment before parting her lips to draw in a breath before speaking.

"You will need to learn to accept the fact I am going to a be hard bitch to be taken away." She was serious. Now that she had him, was free to love him in the way she wanted, Nadya was not going to go easily. Over a decade she had built rapport, earned the respect of many officers and generals in the Thunder. She had a princess on her side also. Nadya was not going to part from Cullen without a bloody fight. "That is how this works. I am yours, you are mine. We are in this together."

She leaned in, unable to help herself. Nadya had gotten a taste of Cullen last night, but right now, speaking of her love for him spurred an awakening. At his ear, she left space from her lips to speak softly, a warmth she would share between them. "Then keep me, love." Her fingers curled, nails scraping against the leather of his riding gear. "If you cannot find the words to say it, there are other ones you can say in it's place. Other things you could do to show it. I will have you even if you do not wish to speak those words in fear of what may be taken..." She pressed a kiss below his ear, where she could feel the faint beat of a heart.

"When I first started calling you Sullen Cullen, that was my way of saying I love you, but I could not say those words. Instead, I found ways and excuses to call you that again in order to see the mischief and mirth in your eyes. It told me that you were about to call me a name in return. Nads, you remember? You never got offended, you simply picked up your sword and parried with me."

She had many other ways to say her love for him in secret, things she had done in order to show her love for him. Nadya wished to confess it all to him, to bring to light the quiet ways she loved him beyond that of childhood best friends.

"I want you, Marks and all, Cullen. You may be the last of your family, but you have always had mine. One day, I would like to stand by your side, taking your name and rebuilding your family. To live a life of quiet away from all of this." Her perfect world, just to be with him.

 

[Cullen]

He watched her as she moved like a storm rolling in. His hands instinctively found her thighs, fingers digging into the supple flesh and hard muscle there as she settled atop him. He could feel the heat of her even through the leather, and the sound that rumbled up from his chest was low and wanting.

Her words made him grin despite himself, a quiet breath of laughter slipping from him. “Aye,” he muttered, voice gravelly and amused, “I don’t doubt for a second you’d fight the gods themselves if they tried to take you.” He sighed, the sound rough but fond, his hands roaming, kneading as she leaned in. The smell of her, smoke and storm-wind drove a warmth through him.

Her lips brushed against his skin, her voice soft in his ear, and he shivered as her nails scraped against the leather at his shoulders. He let his head fall back against the chair, a low sound escaping him as he tried to breathe through the flood of feeling she pulled from him so effortlessly.

When she spoke of Sullen Cullen, it drew a quiet laugh from him, the kind that shook through his chest and softened his expression. “Aye, I remember,” he murmured, tilting his head to meet her gaze. “You were a menace, even then. I think I liked it more than I let on.” The mischief between them had always been their language, banter and sparring.

But then she spoke of taking his name and his heart seized. His hands slowed. One slid up to her neck, curling around the back of it as he drew her face back from his. His brows furrowed, a flicker of pain in his dark eyes.

“Nad…” he said quietly, voice roughened by something more than desire, knowing he was about to ruin the moment. “Don’t.”

He swallowed, thumb brushing lightly at her jaw as he tried to find the right words. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he whispered. “That name is cursed in this city. You’d damn yourself with it. They’d look at you like they do me, and I’ll not have that. I can’t.”

He breathed out, the sound breaking slightly as he pressed his forehead to hers. “All I’ve got left to give you is me,” he admitted, raw and unguarded. “No land, no title, no family worth rebuilding. Just… me.”

His fingers flexed gently at her neck, a touch that was both apology and promise. “You deserve more than a ruined man with a black mark on his name and body. But if you still want me,” he said, voice dropping to a low, fervent murmur, “then I’m yours. Every broken piece of me.”

He met her eyes again, and there was fire there, pain and love and defiance all tangled together. “But I won’t give you my name,” he finished softly.

 

[Nadya]

"Alright." Nadya was unfazed by his rejection of taking his name. She began to place kisses along his jaw, of kissing the rough skin where his stubble had begun to prick at her lips. "As long as I get you in the end. Marriage vows exchanged so that I am yours and you are mine before the gods."

She had no intention of wasting anymore time. They had done their waiting over the years, and now she was determined to keep him. For him to keep her and seize her.

Nadya loosed a breath as she felt his fingers press into her as her kisses lead her back to his neck. "Damn this collar." She cursed, grazing her teeth against it. "I liked it better when I got to watch you strip away every layer you wore." She wanted the comfort of him. The security and privacy she got to experience with him in the forest.

Under the cover of a storm, misted by rain filtered through thick leaves, Nadya had said his name over and over. Made him a prayer, as if he were a god she was blessed to lay with. Of course, a bed of earth was not comfortable, but the pebbles and stick digging into her had only enchanced the experience of pleasure they both gave into.

"I love you." She murmured again, a kiss to his neck. "I love you." Her tongue teased the shell of his ear. "I love you." Her hand came to his cheek, thumb brushing his lips before her own face met him. "I will always have you." Pressed a kiss upon his lips with her own that were making her love a prayer to him.

 

[Cullen]

“Alright?” he echoed in disbelief, his voice rough and uncertain. She wasn’t angry, wasn’t hurt, or offended. Just sure. Just herself. That twisted something deep in his chest, a mix of relief and shame. Gods, she deserved better than a man who flinched from his own name, who was too afraid to say what he felt in fear of some cruel hand taking it from him.

He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to her as her lips trailed along his jaw, soft and burning all at once. “You still want to marry me?..” he breathed, the question barely a whisper.

The press of her mouth along his stubble drew a quiet groan from him. His hand came up, fingers curling around the back of her thigh to anchor himself to her. He sighed through his teeth, head tilting slightly as she found the spot at his neck that threatened to unravel his restraint all over again.

“Fuck, Nadya…” he rasped, voice catching somewhere between warning and surrender. Her words, her warmth, the scent of her, it all tangled together until reason blurred at the edges. “You keep that up, I—” His breath hitched, a low growl rumbling from his chest. “I can’t promise I won’t attack you right here.”

He caught her chin between his fingers, lifting her face just enough for their eyes to meet. Firelight caught in her irises. Gods, she was beautiful. His jaw tightened, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought the grin threatening to break through.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, voice rough. “You say those words and I forget every fucking reason I ever had to hold back.”

He leaned in then, his breath brushing her lips, his hand sliding up her spine to grip the nape of her neck. “Say it again,” he whispered, gaze flicking between her eyes and her mouth.

 

[Nadya]

"I love you, Cullen Morvane." She would say it a thousand times again if it meant he could look at her like that every time. He stole the breath from her, made her feel intoxicated on drinking him in. His hands were always a welcomed touch to her, and she bit her bottom lip as she toyed with many decisions.

"I love you all, the man you hate, the name you do not trust, the bitterness you became. I am going to love every part of you, because without all of that, you would not reach for the good parts in your life. For me. I will be your shelter, your love, and your forgiveness when you need it." Nadya dropped her hands to his leather jacket and began to undo the fastenings. Her eyes dropped, watching her work, but she knew his eyes were still on her face. "Yes, I will marry you still. If you would not give me your name, I offer you mine... as is the tradition with the Caliar bloodline... as long as I have you, as long as you will have me, that is all I want."

She should go close the door to the sitting room. Her hands paused on the third fastening, still thinking on her decisions.

Her voice was low, husky with the difficulty of whispering when her love for him wanted her to shout, to be heard. "My room is much too close to Stasya's... so either I have you hear, or we go for a wander out in the grounds, love." To call him that filled Nadya with warmth, and heat that fueled another fire she had for him. Now they had a taste of one another, it was hard not to want more.

 

[Cullen]

“Fuck…” The word slipped from him, low and rough, his chest tightening at everything she said. Every promise, every vow, he wanted all of it. Her love, her shelter, her damn stubborn heart. He hadn’t realised how much until she offered it so freely.

Before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers, sudden, urgent, full of all the things he hadn’t managed to speak aloud. His hands gripped her thighs, steadying her as he rose with her still in his arms. The world beyond them vanished; there was only her heartbeat against his, the faint hitch of her breath as he moved.

He crossed the room in a few strides, kicking the door shut. “Interruption’s a risk I’m just going to have to take,” he murmured against her lips, voice thick with restrained laughter and longing both.

At the hearth, he lowered her to the rug, the glow of the flames painting her skin in gold and shadow. His mouth barely left hers as he shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head. He gripped her wrists, pinning them to the floor above her head with one hand as he hovered above her.

“You offer me your name…” he breathed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Nadya Caliar, you’ve no idea what that means to me.”

His thumb traced her jawline, slow and reverent, his voice softening. “I don’t deserve half of what you promise, but gods help me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of it.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, exhaling slowly, letting the moment stretch, firelight, heartbeat, her warmth beneath him.

 

[Nadya]

Her heart soared beyond the confines of her chest; it learned how to break past the bones and swell as if her love were a song for him. It hurt to love him, to be so utterly in love with him that he could do this to her. That was when she knew he was the only one for her. This was her last love, her only love. A love never felt like this for anyone else.

It was right, the moment he lowered her down onto the rug, the fire warming them. He looked down at her and she could see all his love, even if he could not say it, she saw it and felt it. She wanted to cry, overwhelmed by it all. "It is too boring to not share a world with someone. Besides, the sound of Cullen Caliar is growing on me..." She smiled, tipping her jaw upwards to snatch a kiss from him. "And saying it now, it makes sense. It sounds so natural, because you have always been part of this family. My sisters have always considered you their brother. My father and my mother love you like their own, even if you remind them of your parents. Cullen... our families have always been tied together..."

For they had grown up together since they were young. Nadya was sure he was her childhood crush, her first love, and now he was still here. Her first, last, and only love.

"I love you." Her lips curled to smile. It felt good to say it whenever she felt that swelling in her chest. "All of you." That smile turned wicked, her hands dragging down his chest and feeling the hard muscles he had built over the years. Nadya was muscular too, but didn't bulk up the way Cullen had. "Gods I cannot wait for this life to slow down. To spend this time with you properly..."

Nadya's fingers reached to the waistline of his trousers. Pausing, hovering. She looked up at him, and her gaze softened. "Still want to risk someone walking in? Would not be the first time for the maids." That wickedness returned. She remembered the vow he made, where he intended on making her forget all the others she had bedded.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s mouth continued to explore her jaw and neck as she spoke, breath was warm against her, his smile a low rumble that she could feel through her skin.

“I must do the decent thing,” he murmured roughly. “Ask your parents’ permission first. It’s their name I’d be besmirching, after all.” he smirked, but there was a truth in there. His marks would follow him regardless of what name he bore. But at least he'd be free of his father's name.

Her teasing had always undone him. He could see it now in the curve of her lips, the spark that dared him to rise to it. He did. His grin faded and his eyes darkened, and caught her wrists again, his touch firm as he pinned them back down, holding her still as his dark gaze swept her face.

“Did I not warn you well enough last time?” he said quietly, the promise in his tone far more dangerous than any threat. One hand kept a tight grip of her wrists as the other curled around her neck. When he leaned closer, his words were a growl against her ear... "I shall have to do better this time." he said, lips dragging down her neck, leaving a bruising bite.