Private Tales The Starling and the Bear

[Arryn Cross]

Arryn froze.

Isla’s voice—sharp, commanding, cold as steel—cut through the room like a blade. And suddenly, he realised what he'd done. He'd been so hell bent on finding them that he'd more than overstepped a boundary. He knew how terribly they'd both needed to find respite, and he had just trampled through it like a fucking ox.

He paled immediately.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came at first—just the quick sting of shame that crawled up the back of his neck and bloomed hot across his cheeks. Shit. His heart thudded once, hard, in his chest. He had followed his instincts as a brother, as a protector—but not as a soldier and certainly not as the Captain of the King's guard.

And he had barged in on their bedchamber.

“...I…” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat quickly, eyes darting up just long enough to see the fire in Isla’s expression before he dropped them back to the floor. “Apologies, Princess,” he said quietly, shame thick in his throat. He bowed his head, and the tension in his posture collapsed in on itself, his shoulders pulling inward with the full weight of her words.

He didn’t dare look at Lynus. Or Isla. Or anything, really, beyond the wooden floorboards he suddenly wished would open and swallow him whole.

“I forgot myself,” he added, quieter still, stepping back toward the hallway with slow, respectful movements now. “I'll uh.. I'll wait in the sitting room.” The last words were barely above a whisper.

Duke gave a confused little bark from the bed, tail still thumping obliviously, and Arryn gave a short, clipped whistle to call him back. The hound, sensing the sudden change in mood, jumped down and padded reluctantly toward the door with a low whine.

Arryn placed a hand on the dog’s back and bowed again, this time without raising his head at all. “Forgive me,” he murmured once more, and slipped from the room like a ghost—silent, ashamed, and thoroughly dismissed.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Lynus didn’t move. Not at first.

He sat there, jaw clenched, body tense, the muscles in his back tight as a bowstring. He hadn’t even registered Isla’s tone at first—he was too focused on Arryn, on the intrusion and the rage he felt at his father for having him hunted down like an animal. But then Isla had spoken.

“Get out. Now.”

And Lynus felt it. Not just the authority in her voice—but the boundary. A line drawn. A territory fiercely protected. And something inside him softened, even as fury still simmered just beneath the surface of his skin.

He turned his head just enough to watch his brother wilt beneath Isla’s command. Watched Arryn stumble through his apology like a chastised boy. Watched his eyes fix to the floor as if he’d just realised he'd broken more than protocol—he’d broken the peace. Lynus almost pitied him.

But then he looked back at Isla.

She was gripping the sheets like they were armour, her cheeks flushed not from warmth, but from panic. She was trembling—not from cold, but from disruption. From having her peace torn from her and being seen when she hadn’t chosen to be. From the sheer inconsideration of two men in the grips of an argument. And that was unforgivable.

Lynus’ face darkened as he stood. He took a slow step toward the door, breeches barely tied, the rest of him still bare and unapologetic. “This is our space. Not a barracks. Not a war room. You do not enter without invitation. And you sure as hell do not look at her, speak to her, or stand in her presence like she’s one of your soldiers.”

Lynus stopped just shy of the threshold, his broad frame taking up the doorway Arryn had just retreated through. His tone sharpened. Arryn kept his head bowed until Lynus closed the door and listened to his retreating footsteps.

He let out a slow breath, the fire in his expression cooling as he turned back to Isla. His face gentled the moment his eyes found hers again.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, walking back to the bed, crouching down at her side. “He shouldn’t have come in like that. I should’ve made him leave..” His hand reached up, brushing hair from her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes now, for letting his father back into their thoughts, for letting the outside world touch her even for a moment.

“But it’s still ours,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead softly. “No one gets to take that away. Not even my father... Nobody is dragging us anywhere, I assure you.” he promised.

 

[Isla]

Even Isla had stilled in the stunned silence for a moment, her chest rising and falling as her body tried to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions still swirling inside her. She hadn't meant to snap at them. Not like that, at least. Her command to leave had come out much sharper than intended. Instinctive as though she were trying to protect that fragile peace a little longer.

But as the room fell silent and the weight of her words lingered, Isla couldn't bring herself to apologize. She wanted to and she should have. But she couldn't. Not while nausea and panic were rising, more violently this time, and it took all of her effort to stay focused. To hold herself steady as the clamminess of her skin and slight tremor of her hands had become clear. The sense of exposure had been overwhelming, the vulnerability of being caught in a moment she could not control. The universe had forced her into it without permission.

When Arryn apologized, breaking the silence, and called Duke off the bed, she had to fight the impulse to retreat deeper under her blankets and hide from the raw humiliation of it all. She had wished for Duke to stay and comfort her, to remain a soft and quiet presence as she gathered herself. But instead, the dog obeyed and bounded away, leaving her to deal with the mess of emotions that lingered.

"No," She said softly, shaking her head when Lynus apologized. She couldn't bear it right now, her voice thick with the quiet exhaustion that had settled deep into her bones. She reached out, pressing a hand against his chest when he kissed her forehead. Her fingers, lingered there, still trembling as she looked up at him with a weary gaze. "Don't apologize. Please." She took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter, the sheets slipping slightly down with her movement. "I just need a moment, Lynus. A few minutes to compose myself."

Her voice wavered and her eyes flickered towards the door where Arryn had just disappeared through. She knew Lynus had to go after him. "I meant you, too." She added, her voice low and raw as she gave a gentle push against his chest, urging him away so that she could have the space to collect herself. "Please. I won't take too long. I just need to pull myself together."

She waited until she heard the door click quietly behind him, the silence that followed deafening. It was just her, alone in the room that had become their sanctuary. Now it had been broken by the intrusion of the world she had left. But maybe Arryn wouldn't force them home. Maybe he would keep their secret safe.

Her body was still on edge and that wave of nausea that had been lingering in the background hit her with full force. She climbed from the bed, dragging the sheet with her. The fabric of a dress she had left on the floor two nights ago tripped her as she tried to step over it, but she didn't care. She could barely feel her feet padding along the ground as she made her way to the bathing room, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

She reached the basin and emptied the contents of her stomach until she felt weak. The familiar, bitter taste in her mouth made her stomach churn even more, and she squeezed her eyes shut until she could breathe and regain control. When it subsided finally, she steadied herself, wiping her mouth and breathing deeply.

It took several long minutes, but when she emerged from the bedchamber, she was flushed, her hair slightly disheveled, but at least she was dressed now. It was something soft and loose and comforting unlike the structured gowns she had normally been tied up in while she lived in the Keep. She walked towards the main sitting room, her steps slow and steady as she approached. Lynus and Arryn's voices had been muffled by the door.

"Alright." She said, entering through the wooden doors, eyes meeting Lynus' first. "What is so important that you had to wake me?" There was no more hiding away. No avoiding the reality of their situation.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead again, softer this time, then reluctantly let her go, giving her the space she needed. With a soft sigh, he pulled a shirt over his head and made his way into the sitting room, raking a hand through his hair as he prepared himself for whatever mess awaited.

Duke, who had been resting with his massive head on Arryn’s knee, stood immediately at Lynus’ entrance. A sharp, excited bark broke the tension, and in the next heartbeat, the dog bounded toward him.

"Missed you too, boy," Lynus rumbled with a laugh, staggering back half a step as Duke reared up, placing his huge paws against Lynus' chest. They stood nearly eye to eye, the hound’s tail wagging wildly as he licked at Lynus’ face. Lynus chuckled low in his chest, scratching affectionately behind Duke’s ears before pushing him gently back down to all fours.

When he looked up, his expression darkened. He leveled a sharp glare at his brother, holding up a hand just as Arryn opened his mouth to speak.

"Lynus, I—"

"Just... tell me what the plan is," Lynus cut in, his voice clipped, brooking no argument. His arms folded across his chest as he leaned back against the wall. His next words were sharper, more wary. "The men you brought... yours, or my Father's?" he asked. All of the King's Guard were technically his father's men, but loyalty was a fickle thing, and Arryn treated the men better than his father did, as had Lynus.

Arryn’s jaw worked for a moment before he answered, reluctantly. "About a fifty-fifty mix," he admitted, grimacing slightly. "He sent Bannan."

At that, Lynus' mouth twisted into a humourless smile, and he barked a short, incredulous laugh. "Fuck..." he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. He scratched absently at his jaw, shaking his head. "He must be mad." Bannan was a bastard, and the man who would undoubtedly have been the current Captain of the King's guard had Lynus not had his say.

Arryn gave him an incredulous look, but Lynus was already pacing slightly, the air growing heavier with the weight of the choice ahead of them.

 

[Arryn Cross]

Arryn’s mouth twisted into something between a grimace and a snarl as Lynus cursed, scratching at the stubble growing along his jaw. It was the most natural thing in the world to fall into step like this again, quick, sharp words and the kind of bitter understanding that only years under the same tyrant could breed. But the familiarity didn’t dull the severity of the situation hanging heavy in the air.

“It’s serious,” he muttered, glancing up at Lynus with a sharpness that hadn't been there earlier. “You think he sent Bannan because he thought this was going to be a friendly visit?” His mouth flattened. “Unless you run, you're not getting out of this without a fight. And that—” he jabbed a finger toward the floor, as if pointing to the fragile sanctuary they'd built here, “—that would be a fucking disaster.”

He opened his mouth to continue, to lay out all the grim, ugly details waiting just beyond the walls of this house. But then Isla’s soft footsteps sounded, and he immediately pushed up from his seat, back straight, formality snapping back into place like armour.

The moment she entered the room, Arryn bowed low, his hand pressed lightly over his chest in deference.

“Princess,” he said, voice respectful, almost stiff, unlike. “Please allow me to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I overstepped. It won’t happen again.” His eyes barely lifted to meet hers, too ashamed, too aware of the intrusion and the damage already done.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose and sighed heavily, straightening again. His jaw tightened as he forced himself to deliver the message he’d been dreading.

“The King summons Lynus back to Vel Anir without any delay,” he said, voice clipped and grave. “I’m charged with returning him… or facing punishment myself if I fail.”

His gaze shifted to Lynus then, and something flickered in his eyes. A question, a bond that hadn't yet frayed entirely despite everything. His mouth quirked in a grim sort of smile.

“So,” he said, voice lighter, almost mocking, like it might take the edge off the grimness pressing in around them.

“Where are we going?”