Private Tales The Loved and Lost Club

[Nadya]

She tensed up, feeling him near her and his words fighting through the stormy winds buffeted at her ears and disorientating her. His words were spoken apology, a gentle stream of peaceful water waiting to be scooped into a bucket and thrown at the inferno that was her defenses. It hurt to hear him say the truth so easily, that she wielded a blade within her voice. Only Cullen would know her well, could tug on her hand and pull her back into the net of safety that his arms offered.

And that was suddenly what she wanted.

Before she could spiral into this mess of self doubt and defensive manoeuvres, she turned towards him and launched herself, her arms wrapping around him and the sobs wracking her entire body. Nadya tried to bury them into his chest, but grief and sadness were interwoven to tightly, she was useless to speak.

She clung to him in a way she never had before. As if she needed him there, just for a moment, until she was strong again.

Until she was strong enough to speak beyond the cries of whimpered I am sorry repeating over and over.

Never had she cried quite like this before. It took over, a possession of sadness that left her heavy and the only thing keeping her upright was the man she could not bear to lose.

Her legs gave out, her arms tightening around him so she didn't part from him.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen stiffened as her body collided with his. For a breath, his arms remained at his sides, rigid and uncertain, because it wasn’t an apology. It was Nadya taking what she wanted.

But then the sound came. A raw, guttural sob that cracked something in him. Then another. And another. Until her grief soaked through his shirt and into his skin, trembling and wild, unstoppable.

That was when his arms finally moved.Slowly, as if afraid she might shatter, he wrapped them around her, tight, anchoring and solid. One hand braced her back, the other slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head, guiding her closer. He held her up when her knees buckled before he lowered them both gently to the floor.

He held her there.

Her body curled into his, clutching as though he might disappear if she loosened her grip. He stayed silent, steady, a mountain unmoved by the storm. His thumb brushed against the side of her head, his fingers combing slowly through her hair, soothing silently.

He could feel the shape of her words in the sobs. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. But he didn’t rush to meet them with forgiveness. That wasn’t what she needed, not yet. Not when the weight of her grief was still breaking over her in waves.

So he said nothing. No conditions. No demands. Just the quiet strength of a man who had been hurt, and still, he held her as though she was the only thing in the world worth saving.

 

[Nadya]

She didn't realise they were both on the floor now, not even as he arranged her beside him without jostling her too much. All she had thought of was hiding her face into his chest, that the feel of his arms around her was the only thing keeping her grounded when the sea of emotion and no control wanted to drift her in open water.

Even as she felt his heartbeat, felt his chest breathe in slowly and exhaling peacefully did she catch on to try and match him. It took her a few minutes to calm, and at some points, the tears and sobs came back but did not last long until she was now resting herself against him. Tired. Drained.

"I'm... not good at this." Her voice shook, still laced with difficulty. As if the lump was still in her throat, threatening to cry once again. "I never had to apologise for much until..." Until now.

Nadya's frame shook. Anxiety sparked within her. Careful. She had to be careful. She didn't want to lose him. She would lose all sense if she lost Cullen for good.

"I am a fool, Cull. I made a mistake and another, and I made it worse for you. I lived this life drunk on my power that I never imagined what it would feel like to have no true power. I played the game wrong. I am no Malennis with a mind for wot and schemes, nor a Ascendant Commander that plans these battles. I'm just a girl with a dragon that took years to trust me... and in all of this, I never thought I would be capable of hurting you." The shakiest breath, and a tremble coarsed through her.

She pushed away now, sitting beside him and showing him her face. Her cheeks and eyes were red, cheeks wet, but most of all, her expression was gaunt.

"I wanted to be your protector so much I smothered you. What kind of person am I for doing that to you?"

Gods, these tears needed to stop.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen stayed quiet even as Nadya pulled away, his hand slipping from her hair but not far from her. He watched her with a softness in his eyes, even as she sat beside him looking like the ghost of the warrior he’d always known. She was raw now. There was no armour left. No commands, no scowls, no stormfront to brace against, just Nadya.

And she was finally starting to see. How her grip had tightened the moment she learned of Eira. How jealousy had crept into her strength, and turned love into control.

She asked him what kind of person that made her and he didn’t hesitate. “It makes you the only person in my life who cares enough to want to protect me.”

Cullen leaned forward, closing the space between them again. His hand found her face, his thumb brushing the tears gently from her cheek, then the next, and the next. He frowned, but it wasn’t anger, it was grief. Something shared.

“Flawed as it was... I know you care.” His voice was quiet now. Not soft like a whisper, but grounded. Honest “You should’ve just told me that it was more..”

“Look at me, Nad. How could I have known, that it was more than that? Why would anyone ever see me as more than that? I felt privileged enough to have friends at all let alone anything else.. I didn’t think I had to look, because I didn’t know it was there. You’ve been my best friend since we were children. The only constant. The one person I’ve never had to question.”

He exhaled slowly, “You’re the most important thing in my life, Nadya. And I don’t want to lose you. You've already had your name tarnished by mine for being a friend. I know you're not, but I am afraid of what could happen to you if it were to become more than that. I didn't pull away because I don't love you, it's because I do."

 

[Nadya]

Nadya's eyes closed as she inhaled shakily.

Those words would have filled her with joy, but now, she felt as if she had fractured anything that could happen between them. She exhaled, eyes fluttering open to stare into his gaze. "How could I tell you? When I always thought if I did, it was opening a wound inside me that could never heal. It would make me vulnerable, and that isn't a state of mind I would welcome."

Until the thought of him being happy with someone like Eira turned her for the worse.

She had believed that if anyone had power and influence to do anything, it would be Eira Malennis and getting what she wanted. She would have found a way to make Cullen no longer treated like vermin.

Maybe that caused her real jealousy. That someone else would be able to do a better job than her.

"No one will ever take me away from you. If there is something keft to fight for, it would be to never lose you. I just wished you had the courage to see that, Cullen. We don't have to be scared when we are fighting side by side." She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes dropping to his arm as his thumb wiped away another tear. "They couldn't keep us apart as friends. They're not going to have any chance of doing so if we become more than that."

Her voice felt heavy when she spoke of that hope.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s heart ached in his chest at the sight of her. All that strength Nadya carried like a mantle had cracked, and what lay beneath it was just a girl. Frightened, vulnerable, honest at last.

He could see it all now. The fear she carried like armour. The pride that kept her from ever asking to be held. The jealousy that wasn’t born of hate or bitterness, but aching fear. Perhaps she had never thought anyone else would ever love him either.

As she spoke of the possibility of more between them, Cullen reached out again, gently tugging her toward him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than a friend’s should. His arms wrapped around her again, his sigh deep and quiet as if the weight between them had finally found a place to settle.

“You can't lose me..” he murmured into her hair. His eyes closed, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head. “Not unless you tell me to go, and mean it.”

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye again, his hand cupping her cheek. His thumb brushed away one last tear..

"That said, I should get back soon. I doubt they'll take too kindly to me abandoning my post." he laughed under his breath, but there was no amusement in it. He was still a prisoner, whether he had bars around him or not. "And you should rest.. I'm sorry, if I made anything worse." he winced at the memory of how rough handed he'd been with her in his anger.

 

[Nadya]

In his arms, she felt settled at last. With his lips to her forehead, she felt as if the storm had returned to a calm. Nadya felt healed for the first time since everything happened to her, could feel the peace stretching inside her.

"I can handle being thrown about, Cull." She bit down on her lip again. "I always prefer a challenge."

But the idea of him leaving her so soon caused her to tense up.

"Don't go... at least, not yet." Nadya hurriedly added. Her lips made a natural pout, her brows furrowed in a way that made her look younger as her eyes widened with worry. "Stay with me a little longer? You need your rest too."

She couldn't imagine what he had gone through waiting for her to wake up. Stasya had mentioned ot had been a full day since she was brought back here to recuperate, but Faye and her dragon managed to heal her and still worked on Kalyss.

"I can tell the higher ups I asked you to stay. I don't even have a dragon here..." For she knew Kalyss was somewhere in the mountains, slumbering until he too was well rested. The female Storm Dragon with him.

Nadya moved towards her bed. She was dressed in simply a tunic and linen trousers, and the sun was now setting that the cold was seeping into her room. She climbed under the covers, looked to him and frowned. "I just want you to hold me. Until I sleep."

 

[Cullen]

Cullen watched the way her expression shifted and softened, vulnerable in a way few ever got to see. He’d always known she was strong. But this? Asking him to stay? That was the kind of strength she rarely let herself show.

He stood slowly as she moved to the bed, his broad frame casting a long shadow as he stretched in the warm, fading light.

“Aye…” he rumbled “I can do that.”

He crossed the room and climbed onto the bed beside her, laying back into her pillows and opening his arms without a word, and when she tucked herself against his chest, he held her the way he always had when they were younger. Solid, warm, safe.

His hand found her hair, gently running through it in slow strokes. His chin rested lightly atop her head, the rise and fall of his chest easy, rhythmic.

“I’ll hold you as long as you need. No worries, no duties. Just this.” he murmured, almost a whisper, as her body relaxed further into his, his thumb tracing slow lines along her back.

 

[Nadya]

Nadya breathed him in. He smelled of the soaps her sisters made, something floral but deep and woody to compliment. "You should bathe more often." She mused quietly. Her had rested at his shoulder, but it crept upwards to the nape of his neck. Feeling skin, she settled in closer to him.

Of all the bedmates she had had, Nadya never laid like this with them. She had always assured she was the one in control, that they wouldn't see her vulnerable. There had been one exception, that enlightened her, and that brought her back to the feeling of Cullen pinning her to the wall. Pink tinged her cheeks, her eyes closing as she thought of him again.

"I... I wanted to kiss you, before... when you had me against the wall, I wondered what it would be like kissing your anger. Seeing you so... alive..." She only spoke in murmurs, but this time there was an added hesitation. Another vulnerability. "But I chose to spite you, to see you more riled and wondered... how it would have felt..."

She fell silent then.

That was a fantasy. Things between them were suspended in the in-between. If she spoke too much... she would only hurt herself in the end.

"Never mind all of that..." she backtracked, her arms tightening around him as she tilted her head comfortably so that his chin was just shy of her forehead.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen huffed a laugh under his breath at her teasing, the sound rumbling in his chest where her head rested.

“Aye, well... I smell like a fucking flower garden,” he muttered, half-amused, half-grumbling. “Not exactly the scent of a hardened warrior.”

Still, his voice was warm, fond even, as his fingers trailed slowly down her shoulder, then along the line of her arm, soothing and absentminded.

When she spoke again, her voice so small, so unsure, Cullen’s breath caught slightly. Her words stirred something in him. He’d remembered that moment too, when she challenged him, pressed against him like she wasn’t afraid of anything. He’d been furious, yes, but his blood had heated with more than just anger.

Temptation had coiled in his gut like a brand. He hadn’t acted on it. But it had been there. Cullen swallowed that truth before it could leave his lips. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her forehead, letting it speak for the things he couldn’t say quite yet.

“Get some sleep, trouble,” he murmured, voice thick and rough, laced with a tenderness he rarely showed anyone but her.

He tightened his arms around her, drawing her fully against him, tucking her safely beneath his chin. The weight of exhaustion pressed in, melting the tension in his shoulders, and soon his muscles slackened, his breathing slowed. Sleep soon claimed him, despite himself.

It was the sharp, echoing bang of a fist on the front door that tore him from it. The early light of dawn crept in through the curtains as he stirred, his arms instinctively tightening around Nadya for a moment in protection, before the knock came again, louder this time.

Cullen exhaled harshly through his nose, already feeling the peace of the night slipping away.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, shifting just enough to glance toward the door, jaw tightening. Whoever was pounding on the door at this time in the morning, was undoubtedly here for him.

“Stay here,” he whispered low to Nadya, his voice graveled with sleep. “I’ll handle it.”

 

[Nadya]

He fell asleep before she had.

For a good few moments, she had wondered at what point reality would seep in and Cullen would take back all of it and wanted to go back to them not talking. This anxiety didn't allow her relax until the moment Cullen fell into a slumber and his breathing eased to something softer.

It calmed her. His arms still held her tight, and she had slung a leg over his to keep herself in place and realised all her muscle tension dissipated at this angle.

It felt as if she barely got any sleep, but Stasya had told her before she had left that it would be normal for her body to still recover despite all injuries had healed due to the influence of a white dragon's capability to heal beyond a human healer could.

The sharp knocks upon her door woke her the same moment it did for Cullen. She felt him pull her closer. Sometime in the night she had ended up on her side and Cullen held her back against him. She could smell his floral soap, and she was twisting around to see him as he instructed her to stay.

Good gods.

How many times had she fallen asleep beside him before and seen him wake up? Perhaps she was seeing him in a new light. Seeing him get up from the bed and straighten himself up before opening the door.

On the other side, a male voice cut into her childhood bedroom.

"Malennis is on his way to see the Wing Leader."

Nadya sat up.

Anger and annoyance sparked inside her. By the time she was up and appearing beside Cullen, she caught the shit-eating grin Fedyr wore. "Clothes looked slept in. Good to know you're letting her rest before showing her a goo—"

"What were you about to say about your superior?" She sliced him with a clipped voice. Fedyr only grinned, raising his hands in surrender before one fell down to his coat pocket and offered the parchment to them, held up with two fingers.

"He had summoned for you but missed out as you were on patrol. Word got back to him you were recovering and is now on his way. You probably have less than an hour until he arrives with his guards."

Nadya snorted. She didn't reach for the parchment, which would possibly be the summons she had missed.

Before anyone could say anything more on the matter, three distinct cries echoed over the lands belonging to the Caliars. Nadya whipped her gaze to Cullen.

"Meala."

 

[Cullen]

Cullen blinked against the blinding light outside, eyes still adjusting, hand braced against the doorframe as he stared at the man who dared to knock on Nadya’s door like he had every right.

Fedyr. Cullen’s frown deepened the second he registered who it was, and that he stood there alone. His voice was rough with sleep. “What the fuck are y—”

But he didn’t get the words out before Fedyr casually dropped the hammer.

Malennis is on his way to see the Wing Leader.

Cullen went rigid.

Ilir.

His breath stopped in his chest for half a second, and when it returned, it came with heat. Rage. It coiled in his gut, scorching every edge of his thoughts like wildfire. His fists clenched before he could stop them.

“The fuck does he want…” Cullen muttered under his breath, low and venomous, but not low enough that it didn’t carry. He didn’t look at Nadya. He didn’t trust himself to. Not when his anger might spill over, too raw and too loud.

But then Fedyr opened his mouth again. And whatever lewd quip had been on the tip of his tongue—Cullen nearly snapped.

The only reason he didn’t put Fedyr through the nearest wall was because Nadya got there first, her sharp words cutting his words short. Fedyr backed off with that same infuriating grin, but Cullen saw the flash of respect behind it.

“Piss off, clown,” Cullen growled anyway, voice a low rumble as he raked a hand through his already-mussed hair and down his face. Exhaustion still clung to him, but adrenaline was fast replacing it.

He was about to speak when he heard Meala's cries. He was already moving, shouldering past Fedyr and bursting out the door and sprinting into the open.

His eyes found the skies instantly, catching the glint of gold. He followed her gaze to the two distant shapes, and he called her down with urgency, assuming that Ilir would be arriving sooner than anticipated. Though, as the dragons grew nearer, he realised what they were.

Silver. White. Ethereal.

Moon dragons. Cullen’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck.”

Not Ilir.

Eira.

 

[Eira]

The day after the storm had brought overcast skies, and a mood that lingered and would brew into another storm in a day's time. The Moon Dragons reflected this weather, their scales taking on the surroundings as their riders strode forward after dismounting. Eira was dressed as usual, a dress that didn't seem all that practical for dragon riding but the high boots she wore ensured there would be something to grip the saddle other than bare flesh.

A male towered behind her, a feat easily done since the noble woman was of petite stature, but if he had ridden on a Moon Dragon, that made him affiliated with the Malennis'.

"Cullen." Her voice was levelled, not offering the familiarity she once spoke with, but instead a tone that she used at the beginning of their alliance turned romance. "I expect you know my brother is en route."

Her eyes flicked to the behemoth black dragon that partially blocked the road from the country estate towards the main road leading to Thanasis. A dragon that has been without a rider for many decades bit chose to bond with a human in the recent Rising. Eira knew the uproar that surrounded that day, despite the tragedy of what happened at the city, there were those that called for Dane Fedyr's life for daring to claim a dragon.

Fedyr, she knew, was often paired with Cullen at the front lines.

She lifted her chin, her brown skin looking soft in the dulled light. "He likes to play his games, and I am afraid this new one is bold. He means to anger you both. Do not let him unseat yourself so easily."

And Eira had taken a step forward, unknowingly, but it was her cousin's hand holding her shoulder to stop her. "Make it quick. You need to leave before he sees you." Eira stared at him. She sighed, shoulders sagging as she turned to Cullen, only for her eyes to fall on the blond mountain of a man named Fedyr, and beside him, the Wing Leader.

"I cannot stay, but my cousin Greydon will remain here to ensure no violence comes to pass. Warn her. Your friend. Ilir wants to ridicule her for undermining him in the War Council." She turned, making her leave.

Greydon sighed, watching the skies as he continued after his cousin's words. "He's going to want to claim the Wing Leader's hand. Ilir thinks he is smart and untouchable just because he is a Lord, but he won't win. I know your Wing Leader. She wields anger better than him." Grey looked Cullen over. Paused. "She wanted you to know because she hasn't given up on taking him down."

 

[Nadya]

Fedyr was quiet as he walked beside her outside her family's ancestral home. The fields around this estate were large, sprawling across several hills that she recalled rolling down as a child with her sister, Stasya, and with Cullen. Their little cottage house they had made out of wooden slats and whatever old wool blankets from the stables as a roof still stood today, looking worn and battered, but a reminder that happiness was had out here in the countryside.

But Nadya could not hold onto those happy memories for long.

Her eyes met with dark ones, belonging to Eira Malennis. There was a brief hesitation in her next step, but the Wing Leader tensed and marched forward. She knew Fedyr noted this, knew he was keeping quiet about it too. He was no fool of a soldier. the best infantry soldier to date if she had an opinion on it, but gods was the guy fooling many of the superiors by playing obedient. It wasn't just complying because of the Marks inked all over his bulging muscles up and down his arms, but someone waiting in the shadows to strike.

Seeing Fedyr again reminded her of the last time they had seen each other. When Nadya threatened Ilir with unseating him, and the Marked Ones would be happy to ensure it. That her words bordered upon rebellion... and how Nadya did not correct Dane Fedyr.

None of this she spoke of now.

Her eyes were trained on both Cullen and Eira, wondering if they would embrace for old time's sake or even smile, but Cullen's back was to her and Eira regarded him the same way Nadya had seen her carry herself on any occasion. Aloof. It made her mind wonder if there had been anything between the two of them at all, perhaps she had been jealous for nothing...

But Eira was now turning away, leaving her companion with Cullen.

"Aren't we popular today with all these visits." Nadya raised a brow as she came to stand at Cullen's left, Fedyr hanging a few paces behind. "Tomyris." Her eyes fell on the cousin of Eira.

"Wing Leader Caliar." He bowed his head in acknowledgement, and somehow, Nadya's stance and expression softened.

"You here about your dearest cousin's visit, also?" She asked, trying to sound pleasant and not saccharine.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s jaw was tight as he watched the pair approach, his body a coil of tension, only loosening slightly when Eira’s gaze found him. It was a strange, sharp sort of ache that bloomed in his chest at the way she said his name, formal, cold, as though the fire between them had never existed. He gave only a short nod in return, his voice caught behind everything he wasn’t saying.

She looked well. She always looked well. Regal, distant, untouchable... What the fuck had he ever been thinking?

He listened to her speak, lips parted like he meant to interrupt her, meant to say something, anything, but the words tangled uselessly behind his teeth and by the time his thoughts had begun to crystallise, she was already turning away.

“Eira,” he breathed, her name barely a whisper that she didn’t hear, or pretended not to.

Then Greydon’s voice landed like a blow.

'He's going to want to claim the Wing Leader's hand..'

Cullen stiffened, staring at the man like he’d just sprouted a second head.

“What?! Absolutely fucking not!” he snapped, the volume of his voice startling even a few of the fieldbirds from the hedgerows.

The idea of Ilir, the slimy, power-hungry bastard, laying claim to Nadya, had him seething. Rage burned so hot behind his eyes he barely heard the rest of what Greydon said.

But when he did, he exhaled a sharp, bitter breath. “How comforting,” he muttered. His tone was dry as dust.

He barely registered Fedyr’s knowing silence or the way Greydon was watching him as if weighing his every reaction. Nadya’s voice snapped his attention back. He turned to face her, and the storm that brewed behind his eyes softened only slightly.

'Aren't we popular today..'

He didn’t respond to the barb, not with the way his pulse was still thrumming from the news. Instead, he turned fully to her, one hand reaching out to her arm as if anchoring her would keep Ilir from ever touching her.

“You need to leave,” Cullen said, his voice low, but firm with urgency.

He glanced back to Fedyr. “Can you take her somewhere, please?"

 

[Nadya]

Nadya's head turned sharply towards Cullen at his instruction to Fedyr.

The hulking tower of the man blinked, looked to her, and shook his head. "She outranks me."

Ever the good soldier.

"I outrank all of you." She corrected, easily slipping her arm from Cullen's grip. "What the fuck is this?" She asked, her eyes immediately going to Eira as she was now seated on her dragon and taking to the skies. Her eyes followed until they couldn't, then falling onto Greydon. "Well?"

He sighed, running a hand over his face and staring at Nadya for a few seconds. "Ilir has the idea that calling for your hand in marriage is a way to knock you down a few pegs after you overruled him at the War Council."

She scoffed, staring at him and waiting for more to be said. When nothing else came, she shook her head and backed up a few feet. "And what am I supposed to do with this information?"

"Eira wanted you both to know because it is better to get angry now than when he is here." Greydon answered, choosing to stare at the grass beneath their boots.

Nadya turned away, staring towards where two Storm Dragons rested. She could see Kalyss' head turned towards her for his eyes still held that fire of old. Strength filled her and she half turned to look back at the three men waiting. "Thank you. Truly... It's good to know this beforehand." She looked to Cullen now, biting her lip.

"We will leave you two some space." Fedyr cleared his throat, motioning for Greydon to become scarce.

Nadya sighed, eyes closing as she let the light wind wash over her. "I am not beginning to regret coming home." When her eyes opened, she took in a deep inhale. "I need to think... I need to..." Tired. She was too tired for all of this. Her brows furrowed. "We cannot let him have this hold over us. Getting angry... fuck, she's smart for telling us before he even arrived." They had the information, the upperhand now. Nadya was used to military might and strategy, but the game of power and people was not her domain.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s lips twisted in frustration as Fedyr gave his response, and Nadya slipped her arm from his grasp like it had never belonged there. His hands fell uselessly to his sides, and he let out a breath through his nose, sharp and short.

“I’m not suggesting you drag her off kicking and screaming, Fed,” he huffed, shooting a glare the soldier’s way before turning to Nadya. “I just don’t want her to be here when he shows up.” He was pacing now, his fingers found the back of his neck, digging into the tension that had been building since the moment Fedyr had mentioned Ilir.

“Everyone outranks me, I don’t give a shit,” he snapped, waving a hand in irritation. “I don’t want him anywhere near you, Nadya.” Her name came out rough. Too intimate. Too raw. He stopped pacing long enough to look at her. Really look at her.

“Think?” he echoed, voice tight. “What is there to think about? You can’t marry him, and he’s not the kind of man who takes no for an answer.”

His jaw clenched as his gaze dropped, staring at the dirt, anywhere but her for a breath. Then he looked up again, fire in his dark eyes.

“Fuck, if he sees me here with you, it’s just going to make him more determined. You know how he plays this. He’ll turn it into a spectacle. A way to humiliate you. Force your hand in front of witnesses, box you in.” He shook his head. “I’m not letting that happen. Not again.”

 

[Nadya]

"Of course I am not going to marry him, Cullen!" She hissed at him, offended he even thought she would consider such a thing. "Let him see you. Let him think he holds all the power. When he gets here and sees you, he will think this is too easy. Taking me from you would sweeten the deal..."

She couldn't determine how powerful people played their games, much less how the Malennis' played. Nadya knew dragons. She had started out helping train dragons to better understand commands, to work as a cohesive unit... and she would treat Ilir like the half breed dragon he bonded to.

Closing the distance between them, she placed her hands at the sides of his face and forced him to look at her. "I will refuse him. He will get mad, but he can't do shit here. This is my home. Kalyss' home. You got Fedyr and his dragon that is so okd and big, it'd eat Ilir's dragon within a breath. Greydon's here too. There's too many witnesses, he can't do shit to us." Her thumb stroke his cheek bone. Her eyes were calm now, determined. She understood the power she were handed by being warned. "I need you to not rise to his bait. No anger. Rile him instead. He takes the wrong step towards us and I bet you Kalyss sends a warning shot from where he is a thousand yards away."

 

[Cullen]

Cullen flinched, barely, when she snapped at him, but it wasn’t fear. It was something deeper, wounded and raw. He took the heat of her words in silence, jaw locked tight, hands curled into fists at his sides. He wanted to argue. To tell her she was underestimating Ilir. That men like him didn’t need permission to do damage.

But then she crossed the distance between them, and the whole world narrowed to the feel of her hands against his face.

He didn’t want to hear strategy from her. He wanted her safe. Not bait in some dangerous game. But as her thumbs swept along his cheekbones and her voice steadied, his pulse slowed.

"You sound like a commander now," he muttered, eyes flicking over hers. A faint smile, bitter and fond, ghosted across his mouth. "Fucking terrifying, too."

He reached up, hands settling lightly over her wrists, not to pull her away, but to anchor himself.

“Fine..” He tilted his head slightly into her touch, searching her face like he was memorising the way she looked when she was like this, burning steady, not ablaze. “But you know what kind of man he is. He doesn’t care about the rules. He just cares about winning. And ruining people.”

His fingers tightened slightly. “He's already put his hands on you once. If he tries to touch you, I’m not going to stand there and smile.. And if he takes one step too far, I won’t need Kalyss’ warning shot.”

 

[Nadya]

"Good." The smile on her lips quirked. "We always have each other's backs."

But her smile fell. Her hands next, upon the memory, or perhaps trauma seeping in, the moment Cullen had thrown back at her the betrayal she committed in even conversing with Ilir that night.

"Commander Caliar has a better ring to it than Wing Leader, doesn't it?" She attempted to skirt past it, her voice now turned playful. "Would be nice to make the likes of him fall into rank at my command."

And from there, they would have only minutes before three dragons would enter the skies above. The clouds still covered the sun, but the well trained senses of all dragons on the ground would be alerted to the arrival of Ilir and his dragon, the half moon dragon, half blue. Flanking the brute was Eira's cousin that lost his twin, and the third rode upon a red dragon.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen didn’t push her when her smile faltered, just let his hands fall away slowly, letting her have the distance if she needed it. The echo of that night still hovered between them, and it hit harder in the silence between their words than in anything spoken aloud.

His brow lifted slightly at her attempt to sidestep it, though, and the corner of his mouth tugged upward. "Commander Caliar," he repeated, rolling it over his tongue like he was testing the weight of it. “Yeah… has a nice bite to it..”

He gave her one last look, something quiet and fond, but braced for what was coming, before turning toward her house to go change.

A few minutes later, Cullen’s boots thudded against the earth as he rejoined Nadya’s side, dressed in leathers and blades. His hair was still damp at the edges from the wash he'd thrown over his face, but his eyes were sharp and scanning the skies.

He squinted upward, eyes narrowing as the dragons crested through the clouds. He recognised the ugly beast in the centre immediately, but it was the left flank that made Cullen’s gut twist.

“Shit…” he muttered, breath caught halfway between dread and anticipation. Yet another Malennis who had unfinished business with him. His hand brushed instinctively over the hilt of his dagger, eyes narrowing as the red dragon on the far right came into view.

“Three of them. He’s making a fucking show of it.” He glanced sidelong at Nadya, and then to Greydon and Fedyr, his jaw tight.

 

[Nadya]

Nadya did not return to change her attire. The loose tunic over her trousers were crumpled with sleep, her hair more than windswept and free, and the boots she at least laced up when she noticed they were undone after Cullen went to ready himself. She didn't need to put her leathers on or summon Kalyss where a spare flight jacket was stashed inside one of the saddle bags. This was her family's home, and she had every right to dismiss unwanted guests in whatever outfit.

But seeing Cullen make his way back to her and the two other riders, he looked like a thunder cloud. There was a presence about him, one she had not seen before, but it was a danger to witness. Ilir had brought something out in him, and foolishly, Nadya's eyes could not be torn away from him.

"Fenton looks like he wants to murder someone..." Greydon sighed, then after a moment he looked sidelong to Cullen. "Remember, he's got a bad knee."

Nadya raised a brow, wondering if she was missing something, but there was no doubt that the Ēarendel's rider was regarding Cullen with a livid expression.

"Wing Leader Caliar." Ilir did not dismount. He called to her from where his dragon paused, a great distance but he had the wind on his side as his voice projected towards them. "I see you have a cadre at your disposal..."

His dark eyes hardened seeing Greydon there. A Malennis on the wrong side again, the thought loud and clear even with this distance, but Ilir's face beamed the moment he recognised Cullen and Fedyr.

"I could have you both written up for abandoning your posts on the front lines. The consequences of such—"

"—are not in your jurisdiction, as you have barely made it through your six months of training, Cadet." Nadya crossed her arms. "These men fall under my Wing. My responsibility."

Ilir's leg switfly crossed behind him as he made to dismount from his saddle, rushing down his dragon's leg. Fenton Malennis stayed upon his dragon, as did the other rider on their red.

Ilir was stalking towards them, his patience wearing thin. Nadya belittling him in front of witnesses was the last straw.

 

[Cullen]

Cullen’s eyes cut sharply to Fenton at Greydon’s reminder, then dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Well aware…” he muttered with a quiet huff, though there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, the faintest ghost of a smile. But his attention didn’t linger.

His dark gaze shifted to Ilir, watching the self-important prick dismount like he thought he was storming a battlefield rather than a family estate. Cullen didn’t flinch at the barked threat about desertion. That wasn't why Ilir had come here. Still, any punishment Cullen faced would no doubt be a shiny bonus for the bastard.

As Nadya shut him down with a few clipped words and a title downgrade, Cullen’s expression didn’t shift, but his cheek dimpled with a half grin as he watched the man approach.

Meala stayed close beside Cullen, the weight of her presence unmistakable. As if responding to the atmosphere, or simply reading Cullen’s pulse, she lowered her huge body to the ground. A rumble passed through her chest, and she released a controlled puff of fire that hissed across the grass. The heat danced inches from Ilir’s boots.

“Bless you,” he murmured to the dragon with a smirk, then lifted his voice as he leveled his stare at Ilir.

“Careful, My Lord.” he called in mock-formality. “She’s got a bit of a cold. Bit of fire in the throat, you know how it is.”

 

[Ilir Malennis]

Ilir stopped short, his madness coming to the forefront as the Marked One spoke out of turn. He did not come here for Morvane. He did not truly care his traitorous cousin was present, as Greydon Tomyris was ever so loyal to Eira due to them each having a Moon Dragon. Even the other Marked One was insignificant despite his promotion from infantry to dragon rider.

None of them mattered.

His dark eyes fell onto the Wing Leader.

"I am here to give your father a proposal for your hand in marriage and an alliance between Caliar and Malennis. Your Storm Dragons will cone under the protection of my House and our Moon Dragons."

Nadya's face was forged with steel. He knew she would be hard to crack when the mask of being important was being worn, but he still remembered how it felt to have his hand wrapped over her throat. The same hand flexed at his side, as if the memory was not too far off.

Nadya's head tilted to the side, daring to look at Morvane before a smile dragged along her lips as she turned to look back at Ilir. "Marriage?"

Ilir had expected outrage.

He lifted his chin. "I owe you a great debt for saving my family's future. The chance to correct my sister's wrongdoings before she was taken advantage of her naïveté. She will become a Solherre, an alliance between our alliances, and the same can be done between our houses, Nadezhda Caliar." Her true name was not one commonly known. All her sisters had similar, longer names, but all went by the diminutive versions. Ilir had been doing his research, had spent time plotting this.

She had too much power for who she was. He knew she would become a High Ascendant after a few more years, and by then, it would be too late. She was of higher rank, yes, but he knew her father's worry was to see his daughter's married off. Her mother wanted to prove the Caliar name was not out of favour. To be matched with a Malennis will only catapult their name to the forefront.

Nadya snorted at the sound of her name.

"Go home, Cadet Malennis."

 

[Cullen]

He was grateful now for Eira’s warning. Without it, the words might have prompted a far more violent reaction from him. But even with the foreknowledge, hearing the proposal from Ilir’s own mouth was enough to send heat flooding through his veins. Still, Cullen remembered Nadya’s words, and kept his expression carved from stone. He met her gaze with a light smirk, then turned his eyes back to Ilir.

If only the bastard had stopped speaking there. Instead, Ilir pressed on, speaking of Eira with calculated cruelty, claiming Cullen had taken advantage of her, painting her as naïve, and declaring she would become a fucking Solherre as if it were some triumph. It was salt in a wound Cullen had barely begun to dress. And then, as if that weren’t enough, he spoke Nadya’s true name—an intimacy he had no right to wield.

Cullen's restraint stretched thin, every muscle coiled tight, his temper a thread away from snapping.
Only when Ilir finished with that oily flourish of Nadya’s full name did Cullen finally speak.

“Interesting courtship custom your House practices, my lord. ” He tilted his head, eyes sharp. “Is it always hands round a woman’s throat before a ring round her finger?  Or is that honour reserved for ladies who outrank you? Those alliances, though." he whistled. "How romantic.”

Then he dipped his chin, the ghost of a smile, nothing warm, touching his mouth.

“Think you have your answer though, bud. Best do as your Wing Leader commands, Cadet Malennis.."