Private Tales The Starling and the Bear

[Lynus Anireth]

​

It'd taken him the entire night, but he'd tracked them. The young lad who should have been keeping watch was curled like a babe against a root, slack-jawed and useless. It made him grin wolfishly, knowing how easy this was going to be.

The girl was apart from the others, kneeling at the stream. Perfect. Like a lamb wandered too far from the flock. He eased through the trees, breath slow, boots soft on the moss until he was standing just behind her.

Just a dream?

“Aren’t you just?…” Bannan drawled, the words dripping with mockery as his reflection joined hers in the water.

His hand snapped out to cover her mouth before she could let out a sound, his other locking around her waist and dragging her back against his chest. She was light in his arms, and he hauled her up against his chest as easy as a sack of grain.

“Don’t fight now, girl. You’ve caused enough trouble as is,” he muttered into her ear, his lips curling in a grin.

The lad back at camp snored faintly, but nothing else stirred. They’d never hear a thing until he was gone with her, bound and gagged before they even blinked awake. His King would be pleased, he could already picture the smug look on the old bastard’s face when he dragged her back, knowing the Prince would follow.

 

[Isla]

Aren't you just...

"Huh-" Isla saw the reflection only a fraction of a second before a hand was wrapped around her mouth, another around her waist. She didn't even have time to scream. She was yanked backward with brutal force. A whimper caught in her throat, swallowed by the stranger's palm as the world tilted and spun. The edge of the stream blurred as her eyes filled with tears.

She kicked and kicked, but it was useless. He was strong, too strong for her when she barely had the strength to squirm against the arm locked around her waist like an iron shackle.

No. Gods! No- no, please!

Her heart hammered against her ribs, wild and erratic like a trapped bird. Her mind flashed to Lynus- to Brett, to Arryn. To the soft bedroll under the willow tree. To their child, still too small to feel, but just as real in her heart. Was she really going to be dragged back into the darkness? Into chains too tight for her now that she had a taste of freedom? Fight! You have to fight! You have to-

Isla thrashed, but his grip didn't loosen. She could see the water rippling in front of her, taunting, reflecting her terrified expression. His lips were at her ear when she spoke, hot breath sticky against her skin, smug and triumphant.

"Lynus!" Her words came as nothing more than a muffled cry. Tears stung her eyes. She tried to scream his name, but nothing came except the taste of Bannan's filthy hand as she tried to bite him. Tried to dig her nails into his flesh, to peel him from her face, trying to reach for anything as she begged her friends and family to wake. But the ground was damp and slick, she couldn't catch purchase of any of it as he began hauling her away from the stream's edge and from Lynus, Arryn, and Brett.

The thought of little Brett snoring by the fire, of Arryn asleep with one hand always on the hilt of his sword, of Lynus snuggled up with Duke...it was her only thread of hope. She closed her eyes and prayed to the gods who had never listened, begged them to let one them wake to the sound of Bannan snapping a twig beneath them...

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Bannan’s breath rasped as he dragged her through the trees, every step muffled but heavy with intent. His grip tightened around her, every thrash of hers answered with a squeeze meant to force the air from her lungs. His grin only widened when she bit and scratched at him.

“Mmm,” he growled low, words hot and slick against her ear, “darlin’, now you’re talking my language. All claws and teeth.” A dark chuckle rolled out of him, strained with the effort of keeping her thrashing limbs under control. “We could have us a good time, you and me.”

He moved quick, quiet as he could, each footfall placed with care despite the writhing girl in his arms.
As they neared his, he bent his head, his lips brushing against her as he hissed into her ear..

“I’m going to take my hand from your mouth,” he murmured. “But if you make a single sound, just one..” his teeth grit, “I cut your throat. Then I go back there, and I cut your Prince’s throat, then the Captain’s, and then that snoring little lad. And I’d lose no fucking sleep over it. Understand?”

He didn’t wait for her nod. If she was stupid enough to risk her life and the lives of the others, that was on her.

At the horse’s side he shifted her, setting her boots to the ground but keeping her back pinned tight to his chest, his arm banded across her ribs. His free hand slid down to a pouch at his hip. From it, he pulled a rag.

“Good girl,” he muttered, almost tender if not for the venom in it. He drew his hand from her mouth at last, swift as a viper, immediately pressing the cloth toward her lips. His grip didn’t falter, ready to snap her back against him if she so much as sucked in a breath too deep.

"You can ride with me, or I can throw you over the horse like a sack of grain. Your choice, sweetheart."

 

[Isla]

Bannan's words were certainly not lost on Isla. She understood exactly what he meant to do to her. Every vile syllable slithered into her ears like poison, and though his voice was kept low, laced with mockery, Isla heard the clear threat in his innuendos. Her stomach turned, though not just from the sickness that had been a close companion to her for weeks, but from the sheer horrors of what might come next if she made the wrong move.

Don't fight him. Don't scream. Don't cry too loud.

The voice in her head, she knew it too well. She'd heard those words before. At a different time. From a different name. Held by different hands. But the same darkness.

Tears spilled freely now, hot trails down her cheeks as her shoulders shook with her silent sobs. Her chest ached from holding back the screams that clawed to get out. But Isla didn't dare open her mouth- not until he made her.

Understand?

She nodded, though he hadn't waited to see it. She didn't care. The gesture wasn't for him- it was for the part of her trying to stay alive. For the child inside her, who hadn't chosen the world of war and monsters like Bannan. For Lynus who would never forgive himself if something happened to Isla. For Brett and Arryn, who would be slaughtered in their sleep without even a chance to draw their blades.

Isla prayed for someone to wake up, to notice she was gone. Even for Duke to whine, to nudge Lynus like he did with his snout to wake him up. She prayed to the gods for that dog's ears to twitch. For him to sniff the air. For him to just bark.

When she looked back, a rag was pressed to her mouth. She parted her lips. Not because she wanted to, but because it was necessary. She gagged as the cloth was shoved in her mouth, bile climbing up the back of her throat, sharp and acidic. Her eyes squeezed shut, forcing it down.

When he whispered again, about how she could ride with him or be slung over like a sack of grain, she nodded to the horse. Wordless. Hollow. She would not give him the satisfaction of a struggle. She would not lose her child to this filth. And someone- someone out there- would answer her prayers.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Bannan’s grin was sharp as a wolf’s, his teeth flashing as Isla choked against the gag. He hauled her up onto the horse with rough efficiency, and was just about to swing into the saddle when the first sound came.

A bark. And another.

Bannan’s head snapped up, sneer twisting his face as Duke’s alarm broke through the quiet. Then voices followed, shouts that rattled through the trees.

“Miss Isla!!...!!”
“ISLA?!!”
“Lynus! Duke has her, this way!”

“Fucking dog,” Bannan spat under his breath. His hand shot to his saddle, yanking his crossbow free with practiced ease. A bolt clicked into place, the string taut as death itself. He turned his head, one cold eye cutting toward Isla.

“Stay put, girl. Remember my fucking warning,” he snarled, raising the weapon toward the trees.

Another bark. Louder this time, closer. The boy came next, running headlong through the brush, desperate, foolish.

“She’s here! It’s Bannan! Bannan has her, she—”

“BRETT!!”

The crossbow sang.

The bolt hissed through the air toward the boy, and in the same heartbeat Arryn was there, shoving Brett out of its path, his body twisting just as the iron punched into his chest with a sickening crack.

“ARRYN!!!” Brett's scream tore from his throat, cracking his voice.

Arryn stumbled forward, breath caught between his teeth as fire seared through his chest. Brett caught him before he hit the earth, his small hands frantic against the Captain’s weight.

“Get… back to camp…” Arryn rasped, forcing the words past the pain. He shoved weakly at Brett’s chest when the boy shook his head, tears already streaming. “Get the horses. Now.” His voice broke, every breath costing him more than he could afford. “Go!”

Brett did as he was told, and ran just as Lynus burst into the clearing, sword gleaming, eyes wide as they took in the horror: Isla bound on the horse, Bannan standing smug with his weapon drawn, and Arryn struggling on the ground. Fear slammed into him, ice down his spine, hotter than fire in his veins.

Bannan’s voice sliced through it all.

“I told your father I’d do whatever it takes to get you back home, Prince. I knew this rat would commit treason to help you. Little point in delaying his death sentence.”

The crossbow lifted again, sight narrowing down its shaft at Arryn writhing in the grass.

“Enough!” Lynus barked, stepping forward, every line of his body taut, blade lowered but ready. His gaze locked on Isla first - alive, shaken, but alive—and then on Bannan. “I swear on all the Gods, you slimy cunt, I’ll send your head back to my father in a fucking box. Put the crossbow away. Be a man. Best me with a blade and I’ll come home.” he challenged.

Bannan smiled.

“Fine.” He almost sighed it, mockery dripping from his tone. His finger squeezed.

The bolt snapped free, straight and unerring, and buried itself deep into Lynus’ shoulder with a wet, brutal thud, his blade slipping to the ground.

Lynus staggered, teeth gritted, a guttural "FUUCK" ripping from him as blood bloomed hot down his arm. He caught himself before falling, eyes blazing as they fixed on Bannan.

He bent forward with a grimace, picking up his blade with his other hand as Bannan drew his own blade. "You always were a cowardly prick." Lynus spat, pushing his pain down, and meeting the man with a clash of steel..

 

[Isla]

Her skin went cold. White as bone beneath Bannan's arm, Isla's breaths came in ragged, shallow pulls through her nose, the rag dampening the sound of her sobs. She felt his arm clamp hard across her ribs like iron, the rise of his chest behind her steady and unbothered while her heart fought to escape her own chest. She could do nothing but tremble as she watched her nightmares unfold.

She thought the barking, the sound of Brett's voice was a hallucination, but to her horror, the lad broke into the clearing. His little voice ringing like bells through the chaos, only to be followed by the shouts of Arryn. Bannan let go of her, shoving her back with a warning as he rummaged for a moment only to return with a crossbow. No, NO! Please no! Run! Isla screamed the words into her head, but they stayed trapped behind the gag in her mouth.

The crossbow cocked. The sound of its release was deafening.

Isla jerked her head away, squeezing her eyes shut. She was too much of a coward to see which one of them had fallen- but the sound was unmistakable. The bolt hit flesh. And the sound of Brett's scream shattered her.

Arryn.

It had been Arryn.

A sob ripped from her throat, muffled and useless against the rag as her chest caved inward. She begged, silently, helplessly, for Brett to run. To leave her alone, to leave all of this. He could save his life, could tell Lynus to stay put. She would survive it all if it meant keeping them safe.

But Lynus burst into view next. His name roared in her head. Tears came faster, harder, blinding her as they streamed down her chilled skin. Couldn't he have waited? Couldn't he just stay alive? He could have let her go and came back later, with an army. For a moment she hated him, watching Lynus as he threw himself willingly into the fight only to have a bolt bury itself deep into his shoulder. She screamed against the gag, wishing he could read her mind and just leave.

But Bannan ignored her scream. He turned to meet Lynus, and approached him. With the distraction, Isla's numb fingers clawed at the gag. She wrenched it free and ran- stumbling through the uneven dirt and grass to where Arryn lay pale and still. She dropped to her knees, voice breaking as she whispered, "No, no, no, Arryn. Stay with me- stay, gods, please-"

Her fingers shook as she pressed the rag hard around the bolt. She didn't pull it out, didn't dare touch it. It had missed his heart, but she knew if she pulled, he would likely bleed out even faster. Her vision blurred as she leaned over him, putting pressure on his chest and begging him and the gods that barely believed in.

"You are fine, you are okay! Just...breathe for me, Arryn. Breathe." She whispered, voice cracking. Behind her a clash of steel was ringing against the pounding in her ears. She turned just enough to shout over her shoulder, "Lynus, go! Please- please, just go! Take Brett, take Arryn, and leave!" But he didn't. Of course he didn't.

Isla sobbed harder, pressing the rag tighter against Arryn's chest, holding his life beneath her trembling hands while everything else burned around them.

 

[Arryn Cross]

It hurt to breathe. Fuck, it hurt to even exist. Blood bubbled in his chest, thick in his throat, every gasp dragging fire through his lungs. His body screamed at him to stay down, to close his eyes and let it all end, but his mind clawed stubbornly against the dark. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when Lynus was out there, bleeding, fighting for his life and Isla's. That was Arryn's job.

Hazel eyes blinked open, finding Isla through the blur, her hands frantic and warm against his chest. He coughed, wet and rattling, lips staining red. “Help me… up,” he rasped, a hand fumbling weakly until it found hers. His face contorted with pain as he tried to shift his weight, his sword slipping against the grass. He could hear the fight, steel clashing, Lynus’ voice strained. His Prince. His brother.

“Please…” Arryn’s voice cracked, blood sputtering over his chin. “Help me up. I need to—” He choked, swallowed hard, and growled at his own weakness. “Go. Find Brett. Get him safe..” He was shaking violently now, trying to force his legs beneath him, but every movement was a battle against the black spots clouding his vision.

“Go, Isla..” His voice was raw, broken, but carried the sharpness of a man who would not and could not die lying down.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

The fight was a blur of pain and steel and blood. Every clash reverberated through the bolt in his shoulder, sending molten agony sparking down his arm and straight into his marrow. His arm burned, his shirt sodden with blood, but fury kept him upright, kept him pressing forward. This was the man who had tried to take his wife and child from him whilst he slept, who had shot Arryn down, who had dared threaten the boy. Lynus’ vision was a tunnel of red. Fuck his own pain. He was no Prince tonight. He was a husband. A father. A brother. And Bannan would die for daring to harm any of them.

He ducked a swing, parried hard, and turned the blade, carving a brutal line along the inside of Bannan’s thigh. Blood poured freely, hot and fast, painting the earth. Bannan staggered but lashed out, steel glancing across Lynus’ ribs with a tearing bite that nearly drove him to his knees. He roared, staggering back a step, teeth bared against the pain.

Bannan was slowing now, dragging himself toward his horse, blood leaking from him in sheets. Lynus stalked after him, blade heavy in his hand but unwavering. He wasn’t stopping. Not while Arryn bled on the ground, not while Isla sobbed his name.

“Lynus.” Arryn’s broken voice cut through the ringing in his ears. Alive. Thank the Gods, alive. Lynus’ chest lurched with relief, his grip tightening on his blade, chest heaving, but he didn't take his gaze from Bannan.

“Take Isla and go,” Lynus called, voice weak but resolute. “I’ll meet you there.”

"My men are on their way... You'll never make it.." Bannan spat, stumbling to pick up his crossbow again, Lynus ran at him, throwing a hard boot into his stomach, and another into his face so hard that he rolled a few feet.

"My men, you mean." Lynus barked as he approached, towering over the man as he pulled his way through the grass in effort to escape him. "Unless I'm mistaken, Arryn and I both outrank you." he corrected, his foot coming down hard on Bannan's wrist as he finally reached the crossbow. The man let out a cry of pain as the Prince's boot twisted, snapping the bone.

Lynus knelt down on the man's chest, the tip of his blade pressed to his throat. "What was your order?" he demanded. He should have killed him then and there, but he had to know. "Did he order her death? Mine?" he asked, pressing the blade enough to pierce the skin. Bannan grinned and let out a raspy laugh, teeth bloody.

"He only wanted his son and heir to come home...but i've been known to disobey an order here and there.." he said, glancing at Isla, and as Lynus followed his gaze, Bannan's free hand rose up, fingers curled around a rock that he smashed into the side of the Prince's skull.

Light flashed behind his eyes, pain exploding in his head as he slammed into the dirt. He felt Bannan fumble quickly for a weapon, heard someone calling his name, footfalls approaching. He was too dizzy to focus his sight on anything. A hard shove forced him onto his back and all he could make out was a dark shape looming over him, the world still spinning.

"NO!" Arryn managed to roar.

Bannan's arms raised, ready to plunge his blade down into Lynus's chest when Arryn barrelled into him.

 

[Isla]

Holding pressure to the bleeding wound in Arryn's chest was growing increasingly difficult when the man moved like a rabid dog.

"W-what are you doing?" Her voice cracked as Arryn grabbed onto her wrist, his blood- soaked hand fumbling against her skin. "No...Arryn! No!"

She tried to hold him down, tried to force him to stay put, but he was already dragging himself upright, stubbornness overpowering logic. A war raged behind his eyes as Isla's pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Arryn! I need to keep pressure. Please, please, please, just lie down!" She begged him, tears still painting trails down her cheeks. "You'll bleed out. Don't do this. Don't leave-" But he was already pushing past her, limbs shaking, eyes locked on Lynus fighting in the distance. Isla asked the gods how his loyalty could run so deep. How could his love for Lynus burn brighter than his instinct to survive?

"Arryn-!" She reached out for him again as she stood, but he was moving. Already gone from her grasp. Isla truly didn't know if this would be the last time she saw him alive. Saw any of them alive. She choked back another sob and fought every instinct that told her to run. She turned toward the fight- towards Lynus.

Her Prince was a storm in motion. His blade gleamed, his eyes were wild, fury in every blow. But she saw the blood. Saw the way he staggered, shoulder painted in red as his strength drained quicker than Bannan's. "Oh...Lynus..please.." She whispered, arms wrapped around herself as if that could keep the world from shattering apart. "Please be careful.."

And then it went to hell.

Crack

A rock slammed into the side of Lynus' head. "NO!" Isla shrieked. Her legs gave out beneath her and she dropped to her knees as if the blow had struck her instead. Her hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide in horror as Lynus hit the dirt, sword slipping from his grip.

The sight..blood on Lynus' face, the bolt in his shoulder, slick crimson running down Arryn's chest even as he charged ahead. And Bannan..looming over Lynus with his blade drawn and aimed to plunge into his chest. It was too much.

Her stomach twisted. The trees around her twisted and tilted, the ground unsteady beneath her knees. Isla's throat closed up. She shut her eyes and turned, retching violently into the grass beside her, sobbing between spasms. It wouldn't stop. None of it would stop.

This was the end.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Blood ran hot down the side of his face, stinging his eye, making his vision blur and tilt with every breath. He could hear Isla, her voice strangled with fear, then the violent clash of steel and the guttural struggle of two men locked together. He forced his body onto its side, teeth gritted against the pounding in his skull, until the haze of red cleared just enough for him to find his wife in his sights.

“Isla..” His voice cracked, raw, as he staggered upright, swaying unsteadily. His eyes darted to her, panic clawing at his chest as his bloody hands reached for her face, for her shoulders, desperate to assure himself she was whole. “Are you hurt? Tell me you’re alright.” His breaths came ragged, uneven, every word edged with terror. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

Duke’s bark rang out, then hooves. Brett burst through the trees on Onora, the other horses trailing beside him, his face pale and stricken. His eyes flicked from Lynus to Isla, relief flashing there, until he caught sight of Arryn.

The captain had crawled only a few paces from Bannan’s corpse before collapsing in the grass.

“Arryn!” Brett’s voice cracked, high and broken as he abandoned the horses, falling to his knees at the captain’s side.

Lynus turned at the sound, and the sight of his brother bleeding out in the dirt nearly buckled him all over again.

 

[Arryn Cross]

It'd been close, too close. A second slower and Lynus would’ve been dead with a blade through his throat. But he wasn’t. Arryn had done his duty. He had saved his brother.

His dagger jutted from Bannan’s chest, but the bastard had left him with a slower death. Arryn’s hand wrapped around the hilt of the steel buried in his stomach, dragging it free with a sharp groan before casting it aside. He pressed his palm hard to the wound, but the blood welled hot between his fingers, spilling faster than he could hold it back. His strength bled out with it.

Brett’s frantic footsteps pounded closer. The boy dropped beside him, shaking, tears streaking his face as he pressed down on the wound with both hands.

“No—no, no, please! Lynus! Help him!” Brett’s cry cracked the night wide open, torn with terror.

Arryn’s hand lifted, weak but steady, catching Brett’s wrist, pressing his Captain's brooch into his hand. “It’s alright, kid,” he rasped, voice hoarse but calm. “There’s no fixing this. I did my job.” His chest heaved with sharp, shallow breaths, a cough bubbling blood at his lips. “It’s your job now.”

The boy shook his head violently, sobbing. “No! I can’t—not without you. You can’t leave me! Please, I love you, Arryn, please—”

Arryn’s chest clenched with a pain far worse than steel. He reached, hand trembling as he cupped the boy’s tear-soaked face and pressed a kiss to his brow. His voice dropped, softer than it had ever been. “You’ll do just fine. I love you too, kid.”

His vision blurred as another shadow fell at his side, Lynus, wild eyed, bloody, clutching his hand. Arryn managed the faintest smirk. “Don’t get dramatic on me, brother.” He tried to laugh, but blood choked the sound, a bitter cough wracking his frame. He swore under his breath, eyes squeezing shut against the cold creeping into his limbs.

“This was how it was meant to be,” he forced out, voice ragged but steady. “You gave me everything, Lynus. Thank you..”

He squeezed Lynus’s hand once more, hard, before his strength began to fail. "Don't let him watch this.. Leave me, get to the port," he frowned, fighting against the darkness dragging him under.

"Go on." he nodded..

 

[Isla]

In one short moment, the world fractured.

In the distance, she could hear Brett screaming, begging Lynus to save Arryn, but the words were warped, muffled, as though she were submerged beneath the surface of a lake. The trees, the grass, the chaos of the fight had blurred at the edges, dissolving into nothing more than sound and color and blood.

Arryn..

She couldn't make herself move. Couldn't force her lungs to draw a full breath. The blurry figure was little more than blotches of red. On his chest. His hands. The earth beneath him.

Not him.. Gods, not. him.

Isla's knees dug into the dirt as she stared, unseeing, at the dagger jutting from Bannan's chest, his corpse slumped unnaturally still beside them. He was dead. Bannan was dead. But there was no victory. None at all.

Because Arryn was barely moving, using the last of his energy to urge them forward. Isla wanted to scream, but her throat locked up tight, strangling any sounds before they could escape. Her mouth tasted like iron and salt, but she didn't know if it was from biting down on her tongue or from the tears flowing freely down her face, sliding past her lips.

She watched Lynus at Arryn's side, clutching his hand, barely making out the hoarse voice saying things she couldn't process. Brett was sobbing, desperately trying to stanch the bleeding that Isla already knew they couldn't stop.

She should be helping.

She should be doing something.

Anything.

But she was frozen.

She could only watch as Arryn whispered something, voice too low for her to catch. Could only stare while his shaking fingers pressed something small into Brett's palm. Brett wailed harder, and the sound ripped through Isla's chest.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They were safe. They were going to start a new life. All of them. And Arryn was.. Arryn. He was supposed to be indestructible. Unshakeable. The one who stood between them and danger. The one who had saved her more times than she had been able to repay. The friend who had saved her from herself the night she wanted to disappear.

...and I couldn't save you.

The thought carved into her like glass, sharp and endless, digging deeper with every frantic heartbeat of Isla's while Arryn's only slowed. Someone's voice cracked as they begged and pleaded, commanding Arryn to hold on. Brett was clinging to Arryn's shirt, shoulders shaking with broken sobs. And Isla.. she sat in the dirt. Useless. A silent witness to the man bleeding out before her eyes, trapped in a body that wouldn't listen to her.

Guilt was a living thing, coiling around her throat, whispering that his death was her fault. If Bannan had taken her, none of this would have happened. If she hadn't been the girl Lynus requested to accompany him in the brothel, Arryn would still be whole. Perhaps Lynus and Brett's lives would have been better without her. Lynus would have his kingdom and his brother. His best friend. Brett would have the man who had been a father to him. Perhaps Arryn and Jiya would have said fuck it to the societal status which kept them from being together.

Her breaths came shallow, too quick, edges of the world darkening. Somewhere beyond the roaring in her ears, Duke barked. She blinked and realized she was crying again. Silent, shaking, her hands smeared with Arryn's dried blood sat uselessly in her lap. The wind shifted, carrying Brett's broken cries, and Lynus' choked whispers through the clearing. Isla shut her eyes tight against the sight of it. But she couldn't shut out the sound.

Couldn't shut out the way Brett was begging Lynus to save Arryn.

Couldn't shut out the wet, rattling breaths as Arryn fought against death.

Couldn't shut out the memory of his laugh, his sarcasm, the rare warmth of his smile when Brett said something absolutely ridiculous.

She would never hear it again.

She hated herself for it. Because Arryn had saved them. Again.

And she hadn't done a thing.

 

[Arryn Cross]

Arryn’s eyes were growing heavier, the darkness creeping in from the edges until it was almost impossible to fight. He was so fucking tired. The pain was a tide too strong to swim against, dragging him down with every faltering breath. He could hear his own pulse slowing, the sound thunderous in his ears, like drums heralding the end. His chest ached, not just from the wound, but from everything it carried: Brett’s laughter, Lynus’ loyalty, Isla’s kindness, Jiya’s smile.

Each face flickered in his mind, burning against the dark. He clung to them, even as his breaths grew shallow, ragged, and death reached out its cold hand.

A thin smile tugged at his lips, or as close to one as a dying man could manage. His gaze found Lynus, blurred but steady, then drifted to Brett, who clung to him as though he could hold him here by sheer force of will. Arryn’s voice rattled, broken, blood thickening in his throat, drowning him with every word.

“Please… Lynus…”

The words cracked apart as crimson welled in his mouth and his lungs. His body shuddered with the effort, eyes fluttering, but still he tried to hold on, just long enough to see them safe. Just long enough to make sure they would run.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

There was nothing Lynus could do to stop the tears that blurred his sight. They cut through the blood streaking his face, unbidden, unstoppable. Even as he knelt in the mud beside him, he saw not the man before him, broken and bleeding, but the boy he had once found on the streets. The boy who had walked by his side every day since. His brother. His shadow. His sword hand. What the fuck was he supposed do without him?

His throat tightened until it hurt to speak. He leaned close, his hand gripping Arryn’s with all the strength he had left. “I’ll miss you, brother,” he whispered, voice fractured, barely a breath. With reluctance that tore him apart, he let his hand slip free, turning instead to brace Brett, who shook violently against him, screamingin protest.

The boy fought him, sobbing, refusing to let go, gripping Arryn’s arm so tightly his knuckles whitened. Lynus gathered him up, crushing him against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Brett. We have to go…” His voice cracked, his heart split in two.

“We can’t just leave him!! I don’t want to go! Please! Arryn, don’t make me go!”

Arryn’s eyes closed, his face turning away as fresh tears cut silent tracks down his cheeks. His body convulsed with one last cough, blood spilling into the grass as his breaths rattled, shallow and final.

“NO!” Brett screamed, a raw, broken sound that tore at Lynus’ chest as he dragged the boy away. He turned him from the sight, shielding him as best he could, though the screams and sobs kept coming. Brett clawed, kicked, and beat his fists against him, but Lynus barely felt it. His body was numb, his mind hollowed out by grief. His own pulse thundered in his ears, his chest rising in panicked, uneven gasps.

At the horses, he set Brett down by Onora and gripped him firmly by the shoulders, shaking him just enough to break through the storm. His eyes burned, his jaw locked as he forced the words out.

“If we do not leave, he will have died for nothing. Do you hear me? He saved your life. He saved mine. His last wish was that we go, and that is what we will do.”

Brett’s tear stained face twisted, his eyes full of pain and hatred and hurt. Lynus faltered, his expression breaking before he dragged it back under control. He reached to wipe the boy’s cheek with a trembling hand, his voice thick. “I’m sorry, Brett…”

He lifted the boy into Onora’s saddle, giving the reins a steady hold before turning to Isla. Dropping to one knee, he guided her face toward his, forcing calm into his expression though every part of him shook inside.

“We have to go,” he said again, low and steady. His hand lingered at her cheek a moment longer before he helped her into Onyx’s saddle and swung up behind her.

For just one heartbeat, he looked back. Arryn’s body lay still in the grass, his hand slack at his side. Lynus’ chest tightened with the urge to turn back, to scream, to fall to his knees beside him again. But instead he pressed his heel to Onyx’s flank, and the stallion surged forward with the others.

 

[Isla]

Arryn's eyes slid shut and something inside Isla shattered so quietly, so completely, it made no sound at all. She couldn't hear Brett's screams anymore. Couldn't feel the ache in her knees from where she knelt in the grass. Couldn't taste the salt from her tears. All she could see was him.

The stillness of Arryn's body. The foreign slackness of his limbs.

The way his blood soaked the earth like the tree's roots growing down to meet the underworld.

Her arms hung limp at her sides, fingers curled faintly into the early like that might anchor her here. Her vision had tunneled, narrowing until there was nothing left of the forest. There was no Duke pacing, no horses whinnying, no sobs from the lad, no wind blowing through the leaves. Just the slow, unbearable, rise and fall of Arryn's chest until it ceased altogether.

Isla hadn't moved when Lynus approached finally, barely registered his presence until his warm, shaking palm gently cupped her cheek and tilted her to face him. Her neck felt like a rusted hinge, slow, stiff. His voice was a whispered she almost didn't hear him, though it trembled with an emotion barely contained.

We have to go.

It didn't register, truly, and Isla didn't speak. Couldn't respond. Her mouth hung open slightly, lips trembling like something might come from them, but nothing ever did. Her expression remained blank. Completely empty. But tears continued to stream silently down her cheeks in a steady river.

She didn't resist when his arms helped her up, lifted her onto the horse. And she didn't look back once they took off.

They rode for hours, the world passing in blurs of blue, green, and gold, turning to dusk, and then to ash. Isla sat there, straight-backed in the saddle, hands gripping the pommel, breathing shallow. Lynus behind her, sat with one arm around her waist and the other occasionally adjusting Onyx's reins.

Lynus's body shook occasionally- quiet, restrained grief. She felt it in the subtle tremors of his chest against her back, and the way his head dipped slightly against her shoulder when he thought she might not notice. But she noticed. She felt everything and nothing all at once.

Brett's sobs echoed from Arryn's..Brett's horse. Each one cracked her further. The boy sounded like he was being torn in two, but Isla couldn't comfort him.

---

They arrived in the Port's town as sun broke through mist along the horizon. Lynus dismounted first, and his legs nearly gave beneath him. His tunic was soaked in dried blood. His face, a pale mask of exhaustion and barely contained sorrow. He needed help. Brett understood as well.

"Help me.." she broke her silence in a whisper, voice cracked and hoarse, the first words she had spoken since the woods. Brett understood. Blotchy-faced and red-eyed, he helped her bring Lynus to a healer. An older woman answered in a haze of sleep and fear, but she escorted them in. Mel was her name. At least Isla thought that was what she called herself.

Mel worked in silence, hands quick and efficient as she muttered to herself. It was the only sound that filled the heavy air. After, she sent them on their way with salves, herbs, and a warning to watch for fever. Isla only nodded in response.

---

The boat was not grand by any means. It was rather plain actually. Weathered. Quiet. They had secured two rooms below deck. Brett was in one, curled up in the bed. Isla could still hear him, crying softly, even with the door closed. Isla didn't open it, though. What would she even tell the boy?

She wasn't strong enough for this. Arryn had been a father to the boy. He had no one now. Was that role for her and Lynus now? She was barely strong enough for her own child. She wasn't strong enough to be his mother. A sister. A comfort.

"He needs you." She turned towards Lynus, finding him hunched on the edge of their bed, hands hanging uselessly between his knees. Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment before she sat beside him, wrapping her arms around herself and pulling her knees to her chest. She stared blankly at the floorboards, rocking ever so slightly like the rhythm of the sea would pull her somewhere far away from all of this.

Anywhere from here.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Lynus sat there, hunched forward on the edge of the narrow bed, elbows braced against his knees, staring at his hands, still stained faintly pink with blood despite the healer's careful washing. His whole body ached, but it was a distant, meaningless thing, shallow compared to the cavern inside his chest.

Arryn was gone.

His brother. His closest friend. The one constant in a life that had been anything but steady. The memory of his last rattling breaths replayed endlessly, a cruel loop he couldn’t escape. He could still see the red earth where he’d left him. Still feel the weight of his hand slipping from his own.

Even when Mel had stitched his side, even when the bolt was pulled from his shoulder, he’d hardly flinched. Arryn had had it worse. Arryn had paid the price.

He’d held Isla so tight on the ride here, afraid if he let go of her, he’d lose her too. Afraid of what would happen if he was left alone with the screaming inside his skull.

Now, in the stillness of the small cabin, he stared at his hands until a single tear blurred them. It dripped onto his boot, darkening the leather. Brett’s quiet sobs cut through the thin walls, each one driving the knife deeper.

When Isla’ spoke, he let out a long, shuddering breath and dragged a hand down his face, smearing the tear away.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me,” he said roughly, guilt turning to stone in his chest. “I doubt he’d want me anywhere near him right now…”

He lifted his eyes to hers then, just for a moment. They were bloodshot, hollow, almost pleading. “I’m sorry, Isla..” he said, his words strained. “I ... don’t know what to do.”

 

[Isla]

The silence in their cabin was unbearable. Brett's muffled cries just beyond their wall had faded into a dull rhythm of grief. She heard the small, sharp gasps like someone drowning quietly. Waves lapped hard against the hull outside, but Isla didn't pay them any mind. Her eyes were on Lynus only.

She just watched him, eyes locked onto his. Memorizing the way his bloodshot gaze pleaded with her for something he couldn't say aloud. But when he spoke, grief cracking his voice, and apologized to her, her eyes stung anew.

A few tears slipped down her cheeks, silent, betrayed only by the shaky gasps for air that followed them. He wouldn't see the tears, though, not as she shifted close and slid her arms around him, pulling him tightly into her embrace. One hand slid behind his head, fingers weaving into the hair at the nape of his neck, the other anchored between his shoulder blades.

Lynus didn't resist.

He folded into her like a man collapsing after a long battle. Someone falling without needing to be caught, only held.

Isla pressed her cheek to his temple and whispered, her own voice hoarse, barely there. "Don't apologize, love. Not to me. Not for this." Her thumb rubbed circles gently along his spine. "This wasn't your fault, Lynus."

There was a pause, and a shaky breath.

"He chose you. Again and again. And I know.." She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue, "I know he wouldn't regret that."

They sat like that for a long time, holding one another, breathing around the ache in their hearts. Isla wasn't sure how long, minutes, maybe even hours. Grief had a way of disorienting time, and hers was already fraying at the edges. But eventually, Brett's faint sobbing flared again through the wall, raw and aching.

She exhaled, breath against Lynus's neck, and pulled back just enough to meet his teary gaze.

"He shouldn't be alone." She murmured. "Neither of you should be." A soft hand slid down his arm, curling her fingers through his. "Come with me."

She didn't let go of him, leading him to Brett's cabin. Isla knocked once and eased the door open. The boy was curled on his side, facing the wall, knees tucked up to his chest. His shoulders shook with every breath. Brett looked every bit the child he was for once. Not the tiny warrior who wanted to be everything Arryn was.

Isla released Lynus's hand and crossed the small space, sitting on the edge of his bed. She didn't speak to him at first, only reached out to gently rest a hand on Brett's back. Her fingers stroked once and paused when he flinched. But he didn't pull away.

"Is it alright if I stay?" She asked. Brett didn't answer, but after a long moment, he shifted- just enough for her to ease in beside him. It was only a heartbeat later when Brett turned into her and tucked his head beneath her chin like a wounded animal, arms wrapping tight around her torso as he sobbed. Isla held him close, silent tears falling from her own eyes again.

She glanced back at the door where Lynus still stood, one hand stroking Brett's hair, the other reaching out towards Lynus with an open palm.

"Come sit with us." Perhaps there was no fixing this, but there was surviving it. Together.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

The breath that escaped him when Isla held him felt like it ripped straight from his chest. She told him it wasn’t his fault, but how could that be true?

He had trusted Arryn with his life, he always had, but what made his life worth more than Arryn’s? Why had Arryn always been so ready to throw himself in front of a crossbow or a blade for him? Lynus knew the answer, of course. If it had been the other way around, he would have done the same.

But he hadn’t.

He hadn’t been fast enough. Strong enough. He had lost the fight the moment Bannan’s blow cracked against his skull, and had Arryn not been there, Lynus would be lying cold in the grass. His father’s guard would have left him for dead, left Isla a widow, their child without a father, if he hadn't killed them too.

The guilt sat like a stone in his gut. He hadn’t been able to kill Bannan himself, hadn’t even had the presence of mind to strike when he had the chance. He’d wasted time demanding answers, needing to know what his father had ordered, if the king had truly meant for Isla to die, for his own son to be dragged back home by force. That need to know had cost him. It had cost Arryn.

And now Bannan was dead, and there was no revenge left to take. Only the bitter taste of failure and the promise that he would never forgive his father. He knew the king would not have cared had Arryn or Isla or Brett had died, and that knowledge burned molten in his chest.

But he kept it all to himself. Isla would offer him reassurance, tell him it wasn’t his fault, and some part of him would want to believe her, but the truth sat like a blade between his ribs. It was his fault. In too many ways to count. And then, worst of all, he had left Arryn there in the dirt.

Lynus dragged a hand down his face as Isla stood, taking his hand and gently leading him toward Brett’s cabin. His chest tightened so hard it felt like it might crush him. Seeing Brett curled small on the bed made his feet root to the floor. How could he be what the boy needed now?

He just watched as Brett folded himself into Isla’s arms, his throat closing at the sight of them. Isla was perfect. She could be strong for Brett when he could not.

When she reached a hand out to him, he saw Brett tense, and it splintered something deeper inside him.
“I…” he swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “I need some air.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He turned, shutting the door behind him and forcing himself to walk, step after step, until he reached the deck.

The sailors gave him a wide berth, reading his face and the heaviness in his steps. He looked out toward the horizon, where land was already shrinking into nothing. They were already so far from where he’d left Arryn.

His fingers curled white-knuckled around the railing. His chest heaved once, twice, until the grief broke through, raw and unstoppable.

“FUUUUUCK!”

The roar tore from him, carried away on the wind. His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, forehead pressed against the rough wood, shoulders heaving as the sea swallowed his cry.

 

[Isla]

Isla should have followed after Lynus.

That thought echoed long in Isla's mind after the cabin door shut behind him. She held Brett tightly as he wept in her arms, tears soaking through her dress, small body trembling with each breath until the boy cried himself to sleep. But Isla's gaze lingered on the door. On the empty space he'd left behind.

She didn't follow. She gave him space. Air, grief, solitude. It felt like the right thing to do. It felt like a mercy. But she wouldn't realize until much later that she had needed that mercy, too.

---

The voyage blurred into a stretch of endless grey. Rain and wind battered the deck nearly every day, making everything feel so damp, and sluggish, and miserable. Sickness swept through the lower cabins more than once. Brett caught it first, and Isla had followed soon after.

She spent her days in silence more often than not, speaking only when needed. Brett had clung to her, especially in the first weeks. He wouldn't sleep unless she was nearby, wouldn't eat unless she coaxed him to. Isla would sit with him until he nodded off each night before prying his fingers from the hem of her sleeve. And when he woke, screaming in the middle of the night, calling out for Arryn, she was the one who held him until those cries faded into trembling breaths.

Lynus was quieter now, too. But when she did reach out for him, he never pulled away. He held her hand in the dark, when she thought he was asleep. Pulled her a little closer and kissed the back of her head. She never said anything. She let them remain entwined, her quiet anchor over the churning seas.

There were moments, though, brief and painful. He broke. His eyes would glaze over, jaw would clench, and he'd excuse himself to stand in the rain for hours. Isla let him, then she would stand beside him in silence. Words only made it worse.

---

Sun broke through the clouds for the first time in thirty-two days. The wind was warmer than it had been in weeks, skies above the port town in the distance were painted in late-summer gold. Even the sails had flapped more gently than they had for weeks. They could see leaves turning just beyond- faint hints of amber, gold, russet, lining the edges of the trees.

Isla felt nothing. No joy. No relief. Not even sorrow.

Back in their cabin, Isla stood in front of a mirror that had been tacked on to the back of their door. She didn't recognize the woman staring back.

Her skin was pale- greenish, almost, and tinged with nausea that never quite faded. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, hollow and sunken, bruised by sleepless nights. Even her hair had lost its sheen, hanging limp and lifeless against her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped slightly, as if something weighed so heavily on her that it had permanently shifted her posture.

And her hands..

She looked down to where her hands rested over a small, but undeniable bump. Rounded, real, terrifying, it pushed against the thin fabric of her grey tunic, firm beneath her trembling hands. She had lost track of time, lost track of herself. Until now. Looking at the mirror, at the ghost of herself, Isla smiled.

"I'm still here..." She whispered.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Lynus had found himself at the bottom of a bottle more than once during the crossing. The first time had been almost immediate. The sharp, burning numbness had been a relief after everything had happened, a haze that dulled the pain and blurred the memory of Arryn’s last breath. But each morning after was worse. The shame in Brett’s eyes. The quiet hurt in Isla’s. The way her hand lingered on her stomach when she thought no one was watching.

He could not let himself stay there.

It had been the guilt that pulled him out in the end. Not guilt for drinking, but guilt for what it cost them. Isla didn’t need another ghost to grieve. Brett didn’t need to lose another person who was supposed to protect him. Lynus had clawed his way back up from the depths for them, one day at a time, one choice at a time.

Arryn had tried, more times than Lynus could count, to drag him out of this place before, when he was angry and had nothing to lose but himself. Arryn had always been relentless about it, standing at the edge of Lynus’ worst moments and refusing to let him disappear entirely. He had known grief as deep as Lynus’ then, and yet he’d still fought to pull him back into the light.

Lynus would not let Isla fight that same war.

When he went below deck, his hand was steady on the door to their cabin and he was about to open it when he heard her voice, soft, quiet, carrying words that made his chest ache as she spoke to their child.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, quiet but deliberate. He crossed the room and stood behind her, arms winding around her waist, one hand coming to rest over the small swell of her stomach.

“As am I…” he murmured, his brow furrowing as he tucked his chin against her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Starling. This isn’t quite what I had in mind for the start of our honeymoon.”

He breathed her in, grounding himself in the warmth of her body against his chest.

“This hurt…” he said quietly, “it’ll get easier to live with. He wanted us to be happy. And I will be — we will be. I have too much to be happy about not to try.”

He pressed his lips to her temple, voice breaking just a little as he whispered, “I love you. Both of you. So fucking much. I’m sorry if I’ve forgotten to say it lately, but I do.”

His fingers curled against her belly, possessive, protective. He would not lose them. Not to a king, not to fate, not to his own mistakes.

Above, there were calls for land as Oban's sea gates came into view, the city glowing beyond it like gold on the horizon.

"Oban ahead! Get us ready to dock!" called the first mate, and Lynus's tension eased a little more.

"Thank the Gods." he muttered with a half smirk. "Lets get the fuck off of this ship."

 

[Isla]

When his arms first circled around her, Isla didn't move. His touch was familiar, still grounding and warm, but her reflection in the mirror remained unchanged. Distant. Worn. And when his voice broke against her shoulder and he pressed his lips to her temple, her hand came up to his arm, gripping his wrist lightly. Her eyes didn't leave the mirror for a long while, watching the way his hands splayed over her stomach, the way they trembled while his tone managed to remain steady.

So much pain. So much regret. Not just his.

She had felt it all, too. The ache of quiet arguments fought in whispers so Brett wouldn't wake. The sting of words they hadn't said. And the unbearable silence of watching Lynus drink instead of speak, numbing his mind so that he wouldn't stop himself from getting into fights with a sailor. Isla swallowed her hurt, hidden it deep behind navy eyes, afraid that if she let it surface, he might break completely.

But the drinking had stopped. Not all at once, not cleanly, and not for a reason he had told her. But it had. And with it, the storms had eased both inside the ship and outside.

Now as he murmured apologies in her ear, swearing he would be better, saying he loved her..them.. Isla exhaled slowly and rested both hands over his.

"Don't.." She whispered. "Don't apologize to me." She turned her face slightly, just enough to brush her cheek against his stubbly jaw. "There is nothing to be sorry for. You were hurting. We both were."

Finally, she looked away from the mirror. She couldn't bear to watch the hollow version of herself any longer. She swiveled in his arms, and slid her hands up to cup his face, pressing her forehead gently to his. And then she kissed him. Once. Twice. Again. A deep, aching kiss. Then smaller ones- all over his cheeks, his brow, along the edge of his jaw, down his neck. It was a silent confession, a release of pent up feelings. Not forgiveness exactly, but presence. A quiet promise to him that she was still here. They both were.

All while outside, sailors shouted about docking. The voices rose, along with the clomping of boots on a deck and ropes being prepared. Isla gave Lynus a breathless laugh against his shoulder, eyes glassy, but a smile forming on her lips.

"You promised me griffins," She murmured.

---

Isla couldn't believe the size of the estate. It loomed above cliffs, nestled into the stone like it had grown from it. White washed balconies, tall windows, terraces all overlooked the endless, sparkling blue sea. It was far too large for just them, Isla had mused, wondering what sort of favor was owed to Lynus to gift them with a place built for ten families.

But it didn't feel as temporary as it should.

The rooms were immaculate. Fresh clothes had been laid out. Warm baths drawn. The scent of lavender and sea salt clung to everything, with a hint of what Lynus had called neroli. It was clean, brighter than anything on the ship, possibly more than anything she had ever encountered in her life. She could breathe here.

They had eaten something light. Changed into dry clothing more befitting of the Obanese style, rather than Anirian. Isla found herself lounging on a pale blue, velvet settee in one of the many- too many- sitting rooms, legs curled beneath her, head tilted back as sunlight streamed through the window.

Brett was swaying across the room, trying to reach a tray of pastries without toppling over. He giggled and stumbled, one hand bracing against a chair.

"You still got your sea legs," she called lazily, her voice warmer than it had been in months.

He looked back at her with a shy smile. The dark circles under his eyes hadn't faded, but he was smiling. That was something, at least.

"Mine haven't gone away either. If I stand, I might knock us both over." She added with a playful smirk.

It was true, this horrible affliction called sea legs. Lynus had damn near keeled over when she almost collided with Brett on the docks earlier, which would have thrown both of the clumsy pair into the sea. Her body had jolted with disorientation, balance thrown off by months at sea and that slow shift of her center of gravity.

Now all she could do was rest and watch them. Though that was more of an order by Lynus rather than a choice. But she would watch them. Her boys. Broken, but healing. She rested a hand over her stomach, and laid her head back down. The sun was finally shining.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

A fresh wave of guilt speared through Lynus as she refused his apology.

“Precisely. We both were.” His voice was rough. “But it was selfish of me to try and carry that grief alone.”

He held her gaze as she cupped his face, and something in his chest cracked open. The kisses she pressed to him stole the tension from his shoulders one by one until he was breathing more freely than he had in weeks.

“I do not deserve you,” he murmured, smiling faintly against her mouth, “but I love you, Isla Anireth. And yes…” his smirk softened the words, “I did promise you gryphons.”

---

The villa was perfect. Sunlight spilled across marble floors, the air was warm and sweet, and for the first time since the manor, Lynus felt the faintest glimmer of peace. He’d bathed, had his hair and beard trimmed, and dressed in loose cotton breeches and a light shirt that left him feeling almost human again. Barefoot, he followed the sound of laughter and soft voices until he found them, Duke, also now bathed and fluffy, followed at his heels.

The sight of Isla stopped him in the archway. She looked like she belonged here, luminous in the light streaming through the tall windows, the colour already returning to her cheeks. He crossed to her first.

“You look beautiful,” he said simply, cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to the other.

Brett quieted when Lynus entered, as though some unspoken weight had settled over him. Lynus’ heart ached. He had loved the boy as family long before this tragedy, and Arryn’s death had not changed that. Carefully, wordlessly, he walked to Brett and pulled him into his arms. The boy's shoulders tensed for a moment, before he melted into him, his cheek pressed against Lynus’ chest.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. A silent understanding passed between them, apology and acceptance.

“Is… is Miss Isla going to have a baby?” Brett finally whispered to him.

Lynus smirked faintly, glancing toward Isla. “Aye, she is. I’m counting on you to step into the role of brother when the time comes.”

He felt the boy’s chest swell against him before he pulled back, eyes bright. The boy had asked once, why Lynus and Arryn referred to one another as brothers when they were unrelated. They explained that people were allowed to choose brothers and sisters for themselves, and that blood did not matter if the bond was strong enough. Just as Arryn had seen Brett as a son, Lynus and Arryn had always been brothers.

“I’ll be the best brother. Just wait.”

“I’ve no doubt.” Lynus ruffled his hair and released him. Brett scrambled to Isla, flinging his arms around her.

“Thank you, Miss Isla. I won’t let you down,” he promised fiercely. “We’ll take care of ya, won’t we, Lynus?”

Lynus sat beside them, Duke leaping up and nearly flattening Brett in his eagerness to join the embrace. The boy’s laughter rang out for the first time since they’d boarded the ship, and Lynus felt something in his chest loosen, a little more of that crushing weight gone.

“Aye,” he said, wrapping an arm around them both. “Of course we will.”

 

[Isla]

Isla's eyes flickered up toward Lynus the moment he approached her and cupped her cheek. She leaned into the kiss he pressed against her lips, fingers brushing lightly against the back of his hand. For a heartbeat, she didn't respond, she just studied the freshly cleaned up Lynus with a trimmed beard and a new softness in his eyes, that quiet tension still tucked behind him.

Her brow arched ever so slightly as she whispered to him. "Who did you bribe for this place? Is your princely influence extended even to Oban?" She let him go with a faint smirk and return to her post on the couch, allowing Lynus and Brett their private embrace. The way the boy folded into Lynus, hesitant and then sure of himself, made something swell in her chest. It wasn't jealousy. She knew grief didn't divide love, simply stretched it in new directions. Still, their moment felt sacred, and she let it remain theirs.

Instead of intruding, she busied herself with a plate of food. The smell of fruits and cheeses had hit her like a wave of longing the moment they'd been brought out, and now she skewered grapes and some bright orange cheese onto a wooden stick, nibbling like a starved mouse while pretending she wasn't. Her appetite had returned like a slow tide, surprising and a little uncertain. But it was finally there.

She was mid-bite when Brett's small form collided into her side. Her breath caught. He clung to her fiercely, arms wrapped tight around her, face half-buried in the fabric of her dress.

Thank you, Miss Isla. I won't let you down. We'll take care of ya, won't we, Lynus?

Her hand came up behind him instinctively, cradling the back of his head. She swallowed thickly and offered a smile down at him. "You could never let me down, sweetheart." She murmured, brushing his fringe back with a tenderness she didn't even know she still had left. "But.."

Her gaze shifted up, fixing squarely on Lynus, brows drawn in a puzzled arch.

"What are you talking about?"

Take care of me? Huh?

It only took a moment. Her hand froze, eyes widened just slightly. And then she looked back down at Brett with a strange mixture of softness and disbelief. "Wait.." Her lips parted, voice barely a whisper. "How..how did you know?"

The hand that wasn't behind the boy's head remained over the bump as if to conceal it, though she wondered if she was blind or if it really was far past the point of being a secret under fabric alone. She blinked and turned her gaze slowly back toward Lynus.

"Did you tell him?"

There was no accusation in her voice, just wonder. Awe sitting at the edge of vulnerability with just enough hope to be dangerous.

 

[Lynus Anireth]

Isla’s surprise pulled a breathy laugh from Lynus, and he lifted both hands in mock surrender.
“Not a word,” he swore, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward.

Brett shifted a little, glancing between Isla’s face and her belly with a sheepish grin.
“I guess I... well, you didn’t eat much on the ship, Miss Isla. And yet it sorta looks like you’ve been eatin’ a lot of sweets.”

Lynus couldn’t help the quiet laugh that rumbled out of him. “I think you’re past hiding it now, love,” he said gently, warmth softening the words.

Then, as though remembering her earlier question, he leaned against the back of the couch and let a small smile settle on his face.

“And yes— to answer your question about my Princely Influence.. My mother’s cousin is the King of Oban. Don’t worry, my parents stay far away from the royal family here, and they stay well away from us. I stayed here for a time when I was younger, truth be told, the King was more of a father to me then than my own was.."

His gaze softened as it returned to her. “I never wanted to leave. And now, I suppose, I don’t have to." he said, reaching to settle his hand on hers on her stomach. "We'll still have the best healers, magically equipped and otherwise." he promised.

"We're safe here."

 

[Isla]

Isla's eyes darted between Brett and Lynus, warmth blooming in her cheeks as the boy stared at her belly with far too much sincerity. Her lips parted, but all that she managed to get out was, "I-"

She stammered, blinking in surprise, and for a moment she looked as though she might cry. Not from hurt, though Brett's not-very-stealthy method of calling her fat did sting a little, but rather from something else entirely that tangled and wouldn't allow her to say the words aloud.

Instead of breaking, she took a breath. A deep one at that.

Then, without saying a word, she reached down and scratched behind Duke's ear, forcing herself to calm in the rhythmic comfort it brought her. Her eyes flicked up to meet Lynus's and a soft, self-deprecating smile pulled at her mouth.

"Maybe you're right." She murmured. "Maybe I don't have to hide it anymore."

She didn't share the rest of her thoughts aloud: that she had been hiding it not only from the world, but in a way, from herself. That half of her fears had been for him- for them, really. That the idea of the Anirian's finding out, finding her, had haunted her since the morning she found out, slumped against her bedroom door in tears after ordering her physician to leave. If they knew, if King Randall knew, would he use it to chain Lynus tighter? Would her rip the child from her arms in some twisted display of control?

The other half of her fear was quieter, deeper, more primal. What if the hope, the precious thing she had wanted so deeply, disappeared just like the last?

She swallowed against the knot in her throat, and was still grappling with the ache of it when Lynus's words caught her entirely off guard.

"Pardon? Your mother's cousin?" She repeated, eyebrows lifting. "You never told me the King of Oban was family. Any other royal relations I should know of?" Her heart beat a little faster. Safety had always felt like a fleeting illusion. But if Lynus was right about the relationship between families, if they really were safe here..

"Promise. You have to promise me that." She said suddenly, turning to face him fully. "If it comes to it..If they come looking. Ask him. Beg him. No Anirian sets foot in Oban. Not while we are here." Her hand wrapped a little tighter around her stomach, protective and trembling only slightly.