I hold onto him for a long time, hoping—foolishly—that my feelings might reach him.
He doesn't move, but he doesn't push me away either.
Am I doing this right?
Is this too fast?
Why am I drawn to him?
Is it because I'm just as desperate for comfort as he is? Or am I so lonely, so starved for connection, that I'm clinging to the first soul that lets me close?
The questions spiral until guilt settles heavy in my chest.
Slowly, I let go.
This isn't right.
I need to regain my senses. I can't convince myself I'm helping him if, deep down, I'm using him to fill my own emptiness—to make sense of this world, to quiet the ache of being alone, to feel someone's warmth against mine.
I can't give him false hope.
Tears blur my vision.
What got into me?
I gently push him away and turn my face aside, shame burning my cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "You're right. I don't know you, and I have no right to—"
I don't get to finish.
He leans in, inhaling softly, his breath warm against my neck. His presence envelops me as he breathes me in slowly, deeply, like he's memorizing me. His hands close around my wrists—not rough, but firm—lifting them above my head as his nose traces along my skin.
"You smell… alive," Aron murmurs, his voice low and resonant. "Flowers, water, sky. Stillness."
Every breath feels reverent, almost sacred—like he's learning me, grounding himself through me. Each inhale makes my body respond in ways I don't expect. My breath stutters. My muscles tremble.
I've never felt so seen—not by eyes, but by presence.
The sensation overwhelms me, warmth pooling low in my body, my senses blurring as I struggle to stay anchored. My body reacts before my thoughts can catch up, and I gasp softly, fingers curling instinctively.
He turns me gently, holding me close, his warmth surrounding me. The world narrows to breath and heartbeat and shared heat.
"Dammit! I have never smelled anything so addictive. I cannot get enough of you. I've never encountered anything so… grounding," he admits, strained. "You quiet the noise inside me."
I let myself lean into him. The more he inhaled my scent, the more tightly he held me. The more I am lost from bliss that made me strip every fabric in me, letting him wrap me entirely in his warmth. I allowed him to fully embrace me, willingly conquering my sensibilities. As he pressed against me slowly, then with controlled force, he repetitively grunted, his chest heaving with exertion. I endured and took it all in.
I want him to use me—not in cruelty, but in need. Just for a moment. To forget sorrow. To stop time. To feel whole again.
Our souls brush—his grief, his guilt, his longing flowing into me. And mine into his.
Eventually, we end up curled together on the earth—my back against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around me, legs tangled, breath steadying as exhaustion claims us both.
He continues to breathe me in even as sleep finds him.
When I wake, sunlight filters through the aerie. I'm still held safely in his arms.
I reach up and cup his face, brushing my thumb along his cheek. He exhales deeply, eyes still closed.
"For so long," he says quietly, voice thick with emotion, "I felt hollow. Unworthy. A king who abandoned his duty because he couldn't protect the one he loved most."
Tears fall, warm against my skin.
"I found the one I believed was my fate… and I lost her. I watched it happen and did nothing. How does one forgive that?"
I don't interrupt.
When he finishes, I turn toward him, pulling him into my arms, brushing his hair gently.
"Cry," I tell him softly. "Even the strongest fall. It doesn't make you weak—it means to make you stronger, better. Pain teaches us. It reshapes us. And surviving it means you're still meant to be here."
He eventually drifts back to sleep.
I ease myself from his embrace, dress quietly, and sit with his head resting on my lap. I stroke his hair, watching the horizon, waiting.
Still no sign of Talon or the birds.
Something feels off—but for now, I let Aron rest. He looks peaceful like this. Softer. Nothing like the distant, stone-still figure I first met.
When he wakes, I'm there.
"Hello," I say gently, tracing slow circles over his chest.
He smiles—for the first time—and pulls me close, breathing me in again.
"Do you know where Talon and the others are?" I ask.
"They sometimes stop elsewhere during long flights," he says calmly.
That should ease my worry… but it doesn't entirely.
I ask him to walk with me. He does—finally leaving the place where he'd remained motionless for so long. His presence is powerful yet reassuring, dangerous yet protective. He stays close, attentive, brushing his breath against my neck until I laugh.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it.
Being wanted—being chosen—rekindles something inside me.
We spend our days together, never far apart. I sleep in his arms. Time blurs.
Until one morning—
I wake up alone.
Aron is gone.
And standing before me is Talon, his golden eyes burning with judgment—looking at me as if I've committed a betrayal I don't yet understand.