Kingdom of Gaelica (closed for QuirkyQuill)

[Mr_Positive]

Aidan drew a sharp breath, feeling the weight of Meya’s gaze. The intensity of her question, the rawness in her voice, struck him like a blade. He knew that no half-truths or evasions would suffice now. She deserved the truth - all of it.

“A few days,” Aidan said at last, his voice low but steady. He met her eyes, refusing to shy away from her anger or her hurt. “I’ve only known for a few days, Meya. Since I met my father and Magnus in the rose garden.”

The admission hung in the air like a heavy cloud, and Aidan could see the flicker of emotions shifting across her face - disbelief, betrayal, confusion. He stepped closer, careful to keep his movements deliberate, giving her space if she chose to retreat.

“I wanted to tell you,” he continued, his tone edged with frustration - though not at her, but at himself, at the circumstances. “God, I wanted to tell you the moment I learned. But my father swore me to secrecy. He said we needed to wait, to approach this carefully. To ensure your safety, and his. Magnus agreed.”

Aidan paused, his jaw tightening. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he tried to temper the rising frustration with his father’s decisions. “But then you fled the capital,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “You ran, Meya, and I - ” He stopped himself, closing his eyes for a moment to collect his thoughts before opening them again, the steel in his gaze softening.

“I realized then that waiting wasn’t an option. You deserved the truth. And the only way to convince you to stay, to stop running, was to bring you to him. To your father.”

He swallowed hard, searching her face for any sign of understanding. “I wanted to tell you the moment I knew. But I... I thought I was protecting you. I see now that I should have trusted you more.”

Aidan stepped closer again, his voice softening, but it carried an unyielding honesty. “I swear to you, Meya, there was no betrayal in my heart. Everything I did, I did to keep you safe. But if you can’t forgive me for keeping this from you, I’ll accept that. Just know that you’ll always have the truth from me now. No matter the cost.”

His hand twitched at his side, aching to reach for her, but he restrained himself. This choice - whether to let him in or push him away - was hers alone.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Meya's brows furrowed for a moment, a thought tugging at the corner of her mind. The rose garden. She had met him outside when he had come from the Rose garden. Closing her eyes for a moment, she let out a slow breath, her shoulders lowering and her fists loosening slightly. Opening her eyes, she walked over to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and sank into one, suddenly looking as though she had been sapped of all energy. Reaching up, she brought both hands up to her face, still pale and drawn, and buried her face for a moment, rubbing her eyes in a very unladylike fashion.

She finally looked up at him, his tall stature seemingly even taller from her vantage point. Against the high back chair and the wan look of her, Meya looked uncommonly fragile.

“That was yesterday.” Her voice came out strained when she spoke. “You were in the Rose garden yesterday, Aidan.”

Meya dropped the formality of his title, two words she had clung to minutes before in an effort to reestablish an emotional disconnect from him. The last day had felt like an eternity, and she felt her own confusion about everything that had spilled in around them both.

“I wasn't running from you.” The world around her felt heavy, and she, on the cusp of drowning beneath the weight of it. Life had been simpler in the South Seas. Yes, it was difficult and dangerous, but with her heart buried beneath a mountain of rubble intentionally stacked to keep the light out, it was easier not to feel. Right now, she preferred numbness to the pain coursing through her. Emptiness she could navigate as assuredly as a seafaring captain on a clear night. This? This was going to break her.

“I want to hate him.” I thought I was going to have to hate you. Her thoughts remained silent as she stared at the fire in front of her, that emptiness still glassing her red rimmed eyes.

 

[Mr_Positive]

Aidan stood still, his hands at his sides, his jaw tense as Meya’s words cut through the thick silence between them. The way she said his name - not “Your Highness” or any other formality - was like a thread pulling him closer to her even as the weight of the moment threatened to keep him rooted where he stood.

Her admission that she hadn’t been running from him struck something deep in his chest. He drew a slow breath, steadying himself. Aidan wasn’t sure if he should respond, if anything he said could ease the storm raging inside her. But the ache in her voice, the fragility of her form against the high-backed chair, demanded more from him than silence.

“You don’t have to,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet with a gentleness that felt foreign in the tense air. “Hate him, I mean.”

He stepped forward slowly, his boots scuffing against the worn rug beneath them. He didn’t sit, not yet. Instead, he stood a few paces away, hands clasped behind his back, towering but unassuming, like a soldier waiting for permission to speak.

“I know you feel like you should,” Aidan continued. “Maybe you think it’s easier that way - to hold on to anger because it’s simpler than... this.” He gestured faintly to the space between them, as if it embodied the crushing complexity of their situation.

“But hate doesn’t make it easier, Meya. It only makes it heavier.” He looked at her, at the way she stared into the fire as if it held answers neither of them could find.

The words came slower now. “When I was a boy, I thought I hated my father for being distant, for choosing duty over his family. But it wasn’t hate. It was... hurt. Disappointment. And carrying that hurt - letting it fester as hate - only kept me from seeing the man he really was. Flawed, yes, but not beyond redemption.”

Aidan hesitated, his voice softening further. “I can’t tell you how to feel about your father. I wouldn’t even try. But I know this: he’s waited years for the chance to meet you. And no matter what you decide, that won’t change.”

He let his hands drop to his sides and allowed himself to meet her gaze fully, even though she didn’t turn her face from the fire. “I brought you to him because I believed it was your choice to make, not mine, not his. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand by it. And by you.”

Aidan’s words hung in the air like a lifeline, but he made no move to touch her, to draw her out of the fortress of emotions she had built around herself. He would wait. It was all he could do.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Meya felt a fresh wave of emotion drag her underwater, her lungs constricting painfully as she tried to remain calm. The scene with her father had pushed her beyond the bounds of her control in a manner that was unprecedented. Even when she and her mother had been given the news that he would not return, her uncle and mother had both broken to pieces, each in their own way. Meya had been the one to remain stoic through the ordeal, only allowing herself to release what she felt was an acceptable amount of grief, and even then, only in private.

“But hate doesn’t make it easier, Meya. It only makes it heavier.”

The world was heavy. It felt heavier to her than she could bear at the moment. Hot, fresh tears pricked her eyes once again, and she was astounded that there were any still left in her. Making a concerted effort to prevent them from falling, her jaw clenched.

“This isn't the same.” Her voice was nearly swallowed up by the space in the room around them. Leaning back, she pulled her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapping around them. Her mother used to chastise her when she sat like this, and Meya could acknowledge that it was not a posture befitting a lady. It was a habit she'd formed when she felt like she needed to protect herself. “This isn't distance. He pretended to be dead. That decision altered the entire course of our lives. It killed my mother. It…”

Trailing off, Meya felt her throat squeeze against her words. Falling into silence, she began counting the individual flames that lapped at the firewood. Focusing on the mundane for that brief moment helped her regain control over her voice. “It killed me, but left my heart beating.”

Her gaze finally lifted from the fire to where he stood, her glassy eyes lost as they met his steady green orbs. Those green eyes reached deep inside her, his warmth and steadfastness a beacon to her drowning soul. That tiny little candle inside her that had been snuffed out the night before after blazing wildly sparked slightly as she lost herself in the truthfulness and loyalty staring down at her.

“I-” Swallowing thickly, she tried to start again, the words fighting against every natural instinct in her body. “I need you. I don't know how. I just…need you right now. This is too much.”

 

[Mr_Positive]

Aidan’s breath hitched, her words cutting through him like an arrow. “I need you.” The raw vulnerability in her voice shattered any resolve he’d had to keep his distance, to let her process this on her own. She wasn’t just asking—she was pleading, even if she didn’t realize it, and Aidan could no more deny her this than he could stop his own heart from beating.

Slowly, he closed the remaining distance between them. The firelight cast warm flickers across her face, catching the streaks of tears she had fought so valiantly to hide. For a moment, he stood above her, watching as she folded in on herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees like armor against a world that had hurt her too deeply.

Without a word, he knelt down beside the chair, reaching out with a deliberate gentleness that belied the turmoil raging inside him. His hands brushed against hers first, loosening her rigid grip around her knees. Then he eased her forward, drawing her out of that defensive curl and into his arms.

As soon as she was against him, Aidan wrapped her up tightly, one arm cradling her shoulders while the other settled protectively around her waist. He could feel the tension in her body, the trembling she tried so hard to suppress. She was fighting to hold herself together, but he wouldn’t let her fight alone.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, meant only for her. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. I’m here, Meya. I’ve got you.”

He felt her press into his chest, and he adjusted slightly, pulling her closer, shielding her from the weight of the world that seemed determined to crush her. His hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers tangling gently in her hair as he whispered, “Let it out. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sound of her breathing, uneven and strained, filled the quiet space between them. He didn’t try to fix it, didn’t try to say anything else to make it better. Words couldn’t undo what had been done. They couldn’t erase the betrayal she felt, the years of pain and loss. But his presence could give her a safe place to feel it all.

Aidan closed his eyes, resting his chin lightly atop her head. The scent of her hair—faintly floral, like wildflowers after a storm—washed over him. He tightened his hold, his arms a promise as much as a comfort.

When she began to relax, even just a little, her weight settling more fully against him, he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His heart ached for her, for all the pain she’d endured, but there was something else too—something fierce and unyielding that took root deep within him.

Whatever happened next, whatever choices she made about her father or her future, Aidan silently vowed to be her anchor. She didn’t have to face this alone, not anymore. Not as long as he drew breath.​

 

[QuirkyQuill]

Those words had been the most terrifying to ever pass through her lips, and Meya’s anxiety was pushing through her at an alarming pace. The blood pounding through her ears drowned out any other sound in the room, and even though her eyes remained fixed on Aidan approaching her, she wasn't really seeing him. When he moved down to her level, her eyes dropped to her legs as she tried to silently remind herself to breathe. The moment his hands touched hers, the world around her settled. She lifted her eyes back to him, her body offering no resistance as he pulled her from herself.

He moved with that same patient tenderness he always did, and as her back left the chair, her eyes closed as she folded into him. Inhaling the scent of him, she felt the tightness in her chest unfurl slightly. The world still felt heavy, her father's aged face standing in the shadows of the cottage dancing behind her closed eyelids as she really contemplated what the far reaching consequences of that knowledge meant.

As Aidan's arms secured her against his chest, his words moving straight into the middle of her very being, Meya felt the dam crack. The tears fell against his tunic, her fingers balling into the fabric, as she released the hurt and exhaustion. When she’d sobbed in front of her father, it had been fueled by anger, betrayal, hurt. Aidan’s steady heartbeat soothed her, his fingers in her hair reminding her of his gentleness, and the tears she now shed were of abject gratitude for him.

She wasn't hysterical as she'd been in the cottage. That was unlikely to happen again, and as Meya found herself feeling more grounded, she was taken aback by the memory of how she'd behaved. Years had taught her to never act from emotion, and she had done just that.

Her eyes remained closed as she refocused her thoughts to the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath her, counting the rhythm as her breathing gradually fell into unison with his. Aidan had so quickly infiltrated her defenses with his authentic goodness and kindness, and Meya knew she was in very real danger of never recovering. He had nestled himself into her heart and soul, two parts of her very essence she'd long thought lost, and she was losing the will to fight against it. She had lost the will to fight it the moment his lips had touched hers last night, and the first stroke of his hands against the most intimate of spaces had sealed the realization that she could never return to her previous life. With the knowledge of her father, and how he’d played a pivotal role in overthrowing her uncle's hold on Gaelica, Meya knew she was even more of a threat to this kingdom.

Turning her head to the side, she inhaled a shaky breath, the cool air contrasting with the warmth of Aidan's chest. Her muscles felt languid and heavy, and she released her hold on him, sliding her arms around him. She had no idea how long he’d held her like this, both of them on the stone ground.

“I am so tired,” she said, her voice cracking. Every part of her was tired, and when she spoke those four words, it was evident that she was speaking beyond the physical.

*

“Who betrayed her?” Tyrell’s voice was seething, his hardened face punctuated by flaring blue eyes.

“A baker whose service had been levied,” Ronin's voice carried the disgust he still felt at the circumstances surrounding their capture and subsequent release.

“Where is this baker now?” Tyrell turned sharply, his eyes on the tall man who stood staring out at the window.

“I dealt with him accordingly once we were across the border.” Ronin shifted his gaze back to the king, the mercilessness evident in his dark features.

“Did you see her again once they took her away?”

“I did not. Our escort to the border was too great to attempt to escape and retrieve her at the time. All I know is that she negotiated our release by agreeing to remain a prisoner.”

Tyrell considered this, not for the first time. Ronin had returned a couple days prior, and they had gone over the details countless times.

“Would she betray us?” When he asked the question, Tyrell appeared to be talking to himself more than Ronin. Ronin, at ease with the king in a way very few people were, shook his head and walked towards the older man.

“Meya is too intent on living up to her father. She would never jeopardize his ideals or his memory. If anything, she might feed them useless information to establish good will, but she would never be a traitor to your crown.”

“But you think she's gone too soft?” Tyrell looked up at Ronin, his eyes scrutinizing.

“Yes.” Ronin answered with crisp conviction. “She is good at what she does. As a spy, she's incomparable. You will likely never have another who equals her. But, she has too much empathy. It inhibits her ability to do what's necessary to strike fear into the hearts of your people. It was that weakness that got us both captured in the first place.”

Tyrell mulled Ronin's words over. He was at a crossroads. The consequences for allowing oneself to be taken by the enemy were each individual’s to bear on their own. That had always been true of his forces. If one was captured, it was their responsibility to find their freedom, or die trying. Meya was different, though.

“My brother never wanted her to go to battle. He tried to make me vow to never send her. While I couldn't promise him that because I knew she would object, I did promise that I would do my best to keep her from harm.” Tyrell grew silent as he considered his options. Finally, he looked at Ronin with resolution in his eyes. “You have one month to retrieve her, if it can be done without risk to you. I loved my brother, but you are of more value to me, and I will not risk your place here because of her decisions. A royal in the hands of the enemy cannot be ignored. Bring her back, and I will consent to your marriage and she can fulfill her duty to the crown as a noble lady should. At that point, she becomes yours to control. If you cannot safely remove her, then do what is necessary to ensure she cannot betray us.”

 

[Mr_Positive]

Aidan held her closer as the weight of her words settled between them. Her exhaustion, both physical and emotional, resonated deeply with him. He felt her body sag against his, her strength momentarily giving out. She had spent too long carrying burdens that no one should bear alone, and now, for the first time, she allowed herself to lean on him fully.

He shifted, gently lifting her from the cold stone floor. Meya didn’t resist as he gathered her into his arms, her head resting against his chest. Aidan cradled her as if she were something fragile and precious, though he knew the iron will that lay beneath her weariness. His steps were careful as he carried her through his private chambers, the soft crackle of the distant fire and the rhythmic echo of his boots the only sounds.

Entering the bed chamber, Aidan pushed the door closed behind them with his foot, his arms never leaving her. The room was warm and dim, lit by the glow of another fireplace. The bed was neatly made, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Crossing the room, Aidan lowered her onto the plush mattress with the same care he would handle glass.

“Meya,” he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, tired but trusting. “Rest now. You need it.” He didn’t wait for a response, knowing she might fight the notion of surrendering to sleep. Instead, he slid onto the bed beside her, propping himself up for a moment to adjust the blankets around her before settling down fully.

As he lay on his side, Aidan wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her back against him. His other hand rested lightly on her arm, his touch both protective and comforting. She fit perfectly against him, her smaller frame nestled into his, and he could feel her breath begin to steady as the tension in her body melted away.

“I’m here,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a declaration but a vow, spoken as much to himself as to her. He closed his eyes, allowing the steady rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her presence to lull him into a light, watchful sleep.
​

---

Aidan awoke just before dawn, the faint light of morning filtering through the heavy curtains. Meya was still asleep in his arms, her breathing deep and even. He watched her for a moment, the peaceful expression on her face a stark contrast to the storm she had weathered the night before.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, he eased himself out of the bed. He pulled the blankets up to her shoulders and lingered for a moment, brushing a light kiss against her hair. Then, he straightened and left the room quietly, signaling to the guards outside his door to remain silent.

Down the hall, Aidan found one of the castle’s head servants. “Prepare breakfast,” he instructed, keeping his voice low but firm. “Something light but nourishing, and enough for two. Bring it to my chambers when it’s ready.”

The servant nodded, bowing before disappearing down the corridor. Aidan returned to his room, pausing to glance back at Meya. She remained as he had left her, still wrapped in the comfort of sleep. For now, she was safe, and that was all that mattered.

What he couldn’t know was that beyond the walls of his kingdom, plans were already in motion—plans that threatened to upend everything he had fought to build with her.​