#genre aware yet furiously optimistic king!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minttoy · 5 years

Text

all that we lost

CHAPTER FOUR

Summary: Five years since the war has passed. Five years since she joined the Dragon Guard. Five years since she saw either of the princes. One of them is a King now. Rayla doesn’t consider herself blessed. How could she lose so much of herself and gain nothing back? The war has come and gone, and still she’s counting her losses. Amidst this fractured peace, she returns to Katolis to make up for lost time.

Pairings: Callum/Rayla

Genre: Romance/Angst

Click here to read on FF.net.

Click here to read on AO3.

For Chapter 1:

Chapter 1 (FF.net)

Chapter 1 (AO3)

----------

“Care for another round?”

Rayla sneaks a glance to the barman across the counter. She waves a palm and shakes her head.

Earlier, she thought it was strange. She can’t forget it. The baker was a mere stranger, and yet his words linger: Rumour has it…

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head, tries to throw off the memory.

In front of Callum, she can’t feign the same ignorance.

She sticks around at a bar until the moon is up. People have come and gone. Most are drunken stragglers now. The wide berth everyone gives her makes it easy to watch the rest of the bar. Only the most plastered of the bunch have the courage to sit with her. The last young man, half-lidded and only mildly aware, slurred and rambled for almost half an hour about why he doesn’t believe in miracles or the sun. Mid-sentence, he promptly asked for one more round before he was cut off. He stumbled out into the streets afterwards.

Now she’s alone again, nursing a terribly lukewarm ale, head somewhere in the clouds, but the moment doesn’t last long. Someone slides into the barstool beside her and when she turns over to look, she almost spits out her drink.

“C-Claudia?” The sight sobers her up a little.

The black-haired girl plops herself on the stool and gives her a wide grin. “Mind if I keep you company?”

Rayla can’t help but stare, distinguishing that her once-long locks are now cut at the shoulder. White streaks of hair mixed amongst black strands still frame her face – Rayla assumed she’d find a way to dye them black again, but even she’s kept souvenirs from the war.

She stops, fixes her gaze elsewhere to stop herself from gawking. The hair, for all its significance, takes away nothing. The woman sitting before her is a terrific scholar. A talented mage. A caring sister. She remains brilliantly beautiful in her own right.

She shakes her head out of her reverie. “No, I don’t mind.”

Claudia assumes a friendly countenance. “Soren told me you were back.”

Rayla loosely recalls the encounter. “I see.”

She tips her head in her direction. “I swore to myself I’d see you before you go, but I have to admit, you’re tough to track down. I’m lucky I spotted you in here.”

A nervous chuckle. Her eyes flit to the hair once again and Rayla reminds herself to stop doing that. “Umm, I think your hair looks great, by the way,” she says, just to make up for all the shifty glances.

“Oh, this thing?” She fingers through a few locks and pulls a strand across at eye level. “Be honest. You don’t think it makes me look older than I am, do you?”

Rayla shakes her head furiously. “No, I…it suits you actually.”

Of course, Claudia’s caught her off-guard more than anyone; old habits die the hardest.

Rayla clears her throat and pours more ale into her cup, a little unsteady. Words seem to stick to her tongue, or they tumble out of her mouth. Her head feels light. She’s warm too. Warm everywhere. Her arms, her legs, her face. Her knees are weak, and if it weren’t for this stool, she thinks she wouldn’t be upright.

“Umm, do you want a drink?” is the first question she asks. It seems inappropriate, even with where they are, but Claudia isn’t taken aback by it.

She watches as Claudia elegantly flags over the barman, leans over the counter and quietly asks for something on the rocks. Rayla gazes vacantly as the bartender pours some amber-coloured liquid into a cup and slides it smooth across the counter. She doesn’t know what to say next. The two never had so much in common.

“Hmm, I just realized something…” Claudia pipes up. She takes a sip of her drink first. “You must be the guest of honour, aren’t you?”

Rayla shakes her head. “N-no. I don’t think so.”

Claudia turns in her seat, chin resting in her hand, elbow braced against the counter. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you should be. After everything you’ve done.”

“Hmm, it might be too late for that,” Rayla mutters, reaching up gently to push the hairs out of her face.

Claudia shrugs. “Maybe, but maybe not. No one can fault you for telling the truth.”

Rayla slumps her shoulders and fixes her gaze ahead. “You sound like Callum.”

She gets a laugh out of that one. “I actually work with Callum. We both teach at the academy from time to time. I’ve gotten to know him better these past few years.”

Rayla isn’t surprised. “That must be…tough.”

“Which one? Working with Callum or teaching at the academy?”

She hardly knows. The word tumbled out of her mouth. “…the academy.”

Claudia scoffs. “Nah. At least when you’re teaching, people listen to you – well, most people. Try looking after Soren for a change. Not a single day goes by where I don’t catch him trying to do too much.”

“Ah, I could see that.”

Claudia sighs. “He never got his legs back, you know,” she starts, voice firm with unspoken grief. “Last week, he strained his knee running laps around the bailey. He limped home and brushed it off like it’s nothing. I got so angry I scolded him for it. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Rayla looks at her, really looks, because behind those green eyes there’s more than she lets on. She thinks there should be a word for that look. That glassy, surface, iceberg expression, always laced with an understated gloom.

Claudia even has the gall to smile on top of it. “I don’t understand him sometimes. He’s either in denial and overly optimistic, or he’s wallowing in misery. I consider myself lucky to find him somewhere in between, but frustrated too, because he goes back and forth.”

Rayla swallows hard. “Sorry to hear that.”

Claudia shrugs. “Most of the time, it’s fine.”

“If it helps, I know the feeling.”

“You do?”

She nods. “Well, sort of.”

“Let me guess. Your Uncle?”

Claudia’s familiarity with Runaan slips over her head. Then she realizes she’s backed herself into a corner, because now it’s her turn to reciprocate.

“Runaan, he…” She has to clear her throat, swallow down the acidity first. “He, uhh, lost his arm from the binding. I managed to get out of it, but he wasn’t so lucky.” She pauses for a moment, remembering the others who never got out either.

“I frequent his place when I’m not at the Guard. He’s bothered when he needs my help, even with simple things. To feel better, he doesn’t let me do much, or anything, really, but he’s always been proud like that.” Her breath suddenly catches and it forces a lump in her throat. “…nowadays, I just help when he’s not around. That way, I don’t feel worthless.”

“How does that work exactly?”

Rayla hesitates, looks down at her half-empty bottle. “It doesn’t, really. I don’t even think it’s helpful, but I do it anyway. I clean his place when he’s out. Stock his shelves. Cut his food. Fucking hell, I even boil the pot before he has the chance to notice.”

Claudia furrows a brow, picking up the change of tone.

“…I even go so far as hiding my weapons. Leaving them at the door, keeping them out of sight, so he’s not reminded he can’t use them. I don’t know why I do it because, my god, he doesn’t even fight anymore, even though fighting is all he’s ever known.” She closes her eyes and covers her hands with her face. “Awful, isn’t it? The war is finished and he’s become a fucking shell.”

She immediately takes it back, and kicks herself for thinking so cruel. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Claudia knows the apology isn’t meant for her, but she keeps silent.

Rayla shakes her head. “Do you know what’s worse? I offered to braid his hair one time. It was pathetic, because I only did it so he can look like-” Himself. Her voice catches again, the word stuck in her throat. She can’t help but laugh at her own misery. She pities herself. “How stupid of me. He was always stubborn, even when he had both his fucking arms.”

Claudia frowns. “Maybe it’s just with you.”

She blinks. “Pardon?”

Her expression is neutral, listening. Rayla doesn’t glean anything from it. “He’s taught you since you were young, so it’s always been his job to take care of you. Maybe he prefers to keep it that way.”

She studies her for a moment. “That’s not…realistic.”

Claudia shrugs. “I know, but if you keep seeing him as weak and fragile, then that’s all he’ll ever be. I doubt it’s what he wants. To be honest, I came to a similar realization with Soren.”

Rayla takes two steps back, remembers how this conversation came about. Distracted and dimwitted as Claudia always seemed, she was never any of that underneath. Rayla saw it in the way she fought her enemies, defied commands, practiced the dark arts. You couldn’t be stupid to use dark magic, and back then she used it plenty.

Rayla submits to it. “Sorry, you’re probably right.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m just angry. With myself, mostly. I wish I handled it differently.”

Claudia starts to touch her shoulder. Rayla doesn’t jump. “It’s not too late to change. I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Besides, if it’s any consolation, I have the same struggle with Soren and as you can guess, he’s just as stubborn, if not more childish about the whole thing.”

Rayla smiles, realizing they seem to have more in common now than they did years ago. She’s glad for the empathy.

“Can I ask a personal question?” Claudia pipes up suddenly. “It’s about Callum.”

Rayla stares at her cup, takes a long and deep breath. “…Sure.”

Claudia gazes down at the counter like she’s stuck in a cloud of her own. “He let me flip through his sketchbooks one time.”

Rayla doesn’t freeze. Instead, her lips tug to a small frown.

She continues, “There were so many pictures of you. Pages and pages, all in your likeness. Some have it down to the finest details. I guess he didn’t want to forget. You were so far away at the time.” She pauses, looks up at Rayla with a tilt of her head. “I’m merely curious…what is he to you?”

What is he…?

Rayla thinks five years back.

Sweaty palms, nervous energy in her veins. Reluctance hiding behind a hopeful smile. The robotic, practice tone she used when she told him her decision – I’m joining the Guard – and how, in that exact moment, she knew it disappointed him. He ran through several facial expressions, all tinged with confusion before pulling out that iceberg look she’s come to loathe so much and wishing her the best of luck.

Days turned into months, elapsed into years, and then she could barely remember how she got there. How could she leave when her mind was so clouded, when she’d already been seeing so much red. She searched for him in everyone and failed. Five years pass and now she looks ten years older, more jaded and wrought with understanding.

“Friends,” she finally says, swallowing hard. She reaches for the bottle instead of her cup.

Claudia arches a brow. “I think he saw you more than that.”

Her chest starts throbbing. Rayla nods her head, because she knows it better than anyone.

“He did, “she says, and drinks directly from the bottle.

----------

Guilt seeps through and cements itself. In times like this, it just won’t go. It knocks a dull ache in her chest, sags her eyes, drags her footsteps. She doesn’t know how to make up for lost time anymore, but it only begs the question. Why did she come?

Eventually, she turns up at the castle before midnight. She pads up the long and winding cobblestone stairs, gripping the handrails until she arrives at the courtyard crowded with the most important folks in Katolis. Running to the comforts of the forest or her guest bedroom are enticing thoughts. How she wishes tonight’s moon was full, just to slip off unnoticed.

Talking to people, engaging with them. Nothing is more nerve-wracking, frightening even. Fearsome monsters and warriors she’s come up against, and somehow her knees buckle at this small and simple task. It’s the whispers, she thinks. They follow her everywhere she goes, even here. From the entryway into these gardens, she doesn’t miss it. Admittedly, they aren’t all bad. Some people are just curious.

At first glance, her eyes find Ezran first. He’s easy to spot. A young man dressed in royal garbs, always the centre of attention, heavily surrounded. Surprisingly, his eyes find her just the same. He couldn’t possibly have been waiting. She tries to wave him off as he dismisses himself and maneuvers out of the crowd, but it’s to no avail. She lowers her hand and sticks to the back wall.

“Rayla! I’m glad you made it.”

She puts on a sheepish smile and scratches the back of her neck. “Am I late?”

Ezran raises a brow. “Not at all. Callum’s about to start his speech.”

“Oh. Did I miss yours?”

He laughs lightly. “Nope. It’s just Callum tonight. We agreed on it beforehand. I’ve been doing the talking every year so I argued he should take the mantle tonight. Took some time to convince him, but he gave in eventually. Besides, he owes me a few favours. You know how he is,” Ezran admits, a little pleased with himself.

She chuckles in amusement.

“Did you tour around the festival?” he pipes up.

“I did.” She casts her gaze around the room, finally finding Callum at the base of the stage, sharing a laugh with guards and councillors alike. “I had a great time and the town looks beautiful. Your brother was gracious enough to show me around.”

“I know.” And then he shoots her a small grin.

She looks ahead of her, almost hiding her face from him. Right now, she doesn’t have the strength to deal with his knowing smiles. Instead, she tips her head to the stage, where finally, Callum makes his way up the wooden platform.

He struggles to gather the crowd’s attention, but they hone in eventually. Rayla settles herself against the wall, looks down at her boots and listens in. She nods along as Callum pedals back five years to describe a new age of peace, where there are no debts or looming perils threatening to take them down. Where it’s no longer a reality to fear what lies beyond these borders, become silenced by dark forces, getting murdered in your sleep. He thanks his lucky stars he doesn’t live like this anymore.

A knot coils in her stomach as he recalls the fallen in those troubled times. She thinks if it weren’t for the war, this town would still have its king, and Ezran would have gotten a proper childhood, and Callum wouldn’t be the one making this speech. Ironically, she would have been brought up as an assassin regardless of the war. It always seemed, even back when she was a child, that joining the Dragon Guard would be her destiny.

She waits it out until the end, until a round of applause sweeps the crowd. A server passes and Ezran grabs himself a glass of wine, prompting her to do the same. She clues in that it’s time for the toast. Callum dedicates this time to show gratitude for the past five years of peace and good fortune. He prays for many more, and his speech ends as he raises his glass and drinks it down.

“Cheers, Rayla,” Ezran pipes up.

“Cheers,” she murmurs to herself, downing the sweet drink in one go. She puts away the cup and suddenly, she’s craving another. But her eyes remained glued to Callum across the room. She watches as he’s joined by others, accepting compliments.

Her mind treks down that familiar road. At this point, she can only wonder – what it would have been like if she chose otherwise. If she took him up on his offer. Became a diplomat, a foreign officer, even if she’d never been a fan of the cold, political battlefield.

She supposes they would have travelled the countries, side-by-side, with their union displayed for the world to see. Maybe it would help to alleviate the longstanding discriminations. In between meetings, she could rely on him to keep her sane, and help her in ways others cannot. But there’s chance it wouldn’t last.

His humanity, with all its glaring differences. A shorter life, a different kind. Relationships between their races are uncommon for that reason. Besides the constant mockery and public disgrace, what other problems would they run into? And where would they go? Her home is elsewhere and his is here. Someone would have to decide, once and for all, that this relationship is worth keeping, worth saving, and maybe it won’t be good enough.

Or.

She swallows hard. Her lips press into a thin line.

Maybe it would.

Maybe they would have wed. Taken it to the alter, promise to love one another, for better or for worse. Committed to a love louder than their judgments, enough to quiet their enemies. She would know bliss like she’s never known and for the first time in her whole life, her heart would be full. It would have been worth it. Because now they wouldn’t be standing so far apart now, where the space between feels like harsh tundra. Every step towards each other is like walking on ice shards and broken glass. Thinking she’d built this wall to protect herself, but forgot it would keep him out.

“Rayla, you’re dreaming, aren’t you?”

She glances up, forgetting where she is.

Bringing a hand up to her face, she rubs the blur out of her eyes. There’s a nudge at her side and Ezran offers her his handkerchief. She takes it without hesitation.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Don’t bother with me.”

He tilts his head towards her. “I’m not bothered.”

She looks him in the eye, thinks what’s stopping her. Is she waiting for the right time? Because she will never find it. Instead, she has to ask herself why, after everything’s already been said and done, she still tries to forget it. And more importantly why, after five years of staring it in the face, does she still scare of getting hurt.

“Callum, he…did you know he offered me to join him? Five years ago?” she asks slowly.

Ezran locks his gaze ahead of him. “I knew.”

“Sometimes, I wonder…” She clears her throat. “…how different it would be if I did.”

He exhales long and slow. “I…can’t answer that.”

She smiles, hides her own disappointment. “I guess it could have gone either way,” she says, softening the blow.

“Maybe you should ask him.”

She hums in question. “Maybe.”

----------

The clock strikes past midnight. Rayla turns on her heel.

“Ah, leaving already?”

She turns around, wondering how long he’d been eyeing her. She gives him a loose shrug. “It’s late.”

Callum tilts his head towards the crowd. “At least stay for the end of the festival?”

Rayla sighs, shifts her gaze to the clear night sky. “I shouldn’t, you know.”

“Would you stay for me?”

Rayla startles on his choice words. The questions hangs in the air and she lingers on the familiarity of it, like it’s a call back. Even though he’s not one to mock their past, or scoff at her decisions, she still considers it.

“Umm, I won’t take up too much of your time. Just a few minutes?” he rephrases. Maybe he senses her discomfort because now he’s looking away, stroking the back of his neck.

She attempts a smile to rid of the tension. “Okay.”

Grateful, he gestures to the walkway and allows her to lead as he follows behind. She settles down on a bench and he takes a seat beside her, mindful to keep space.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I hope the townsfolk weren’t too harsh on you. I know the attention can be a lot, like they’re suspicious and watching your every move, but don’t let it bother you too much. Ezran and I are trying to change it.”

She breathes deep, in and out. The attention slips past her now and in honesty, not all of it is rude and unwarranted. “It hasn’t been too bad. Better than I imagined, actually. And for the most part, they’re just curious. I don’t blame them. Humans get a similar kind of treatment across the border.”

“I know, but I still don’t like it,” he says quietly.

And of course he doesn’t. I think more people should know who you are. No one should. Even after the war, there’s still much to do with restoring harmony and resolving the tensions between races.

I think he saw you more than that.

She shakes her head to throw off the memory. “Umm, did Lady Freya end up coming to the festival?”

At first, he furrows his brows and then it dawns on him. “Oh, you caught that, huh?”

She nods. A lot was discussed during that breakfast, but this managed to get through. It wouldn’t surprise her then, or even now to find out how much he’s moved on.

His face flushes a light pink and he looks away, breaking eye contact. “She didn’t.”

Rayla lowers her head in return. “Are you involved with her? Or anybody?”

“I’m not.”

She turns to the ground, crossing one leg over the other. “Do you want to be?”

He gives a half-shrug and doesn’t say anything. It’s a weighty question, maybe even unreasonable, coming from someone like her and given their history.

Maybe you should ask him.

She doesn’t shake off the words this time. She asks herself again why, after all these years, does she still mince her words. As if the war didn’t teach her to do otherwise.

“Callum…by any chance, do ever think about…us?”

It seems to catch him off-guard. “…you mean, the two of us?

“Yeah,” she says softly.

He squirms in his seat, finding his breath has quickened all of a sudden. “Well…yes, I do. Sometimes, but more so in the years back,” he says, taking his time. He shrugs again and then lets out a loose breath. “I mean, it was hard not to. At the time, you were so important to me.”

A pained smile reaches her face for a second and then it drops. She glances at him through her lashes. “Do you ever think of what would have happened if I stayed then?”

The loaded question takes him aback, and he shifts his gaze to the sky. Exhaling through his mouth, he sinks down in his seat and sighs. “Oh…umm, you know, I don’t…” He stops to rub his face and think carefully of his next words. “Ah, this is really hard to say…”

“It’s okay,” she interjects. Perhaps it’s unfair to ask. She doesn’t even know what she wants to hear. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, it’s fine,” he insists, even though it’s a struggle to appear unbothered. He keeps his eyes trained to the sky where the moon shines so bright amongst the stars, and then he recalls the night was just as clear five years ago when they parted ways. He remembers he’s done this before.

He lets out a small breath. “You know, I can’t say for sure where we would have ended up, but…” he says, voice laced with a rare tenderness. A delicate smile paints his features. “…Rayla, I know I cared about you. For sure, I was always thinking of you – where you were, how you were doing. I think back on all the things you did for me and I’m grateful.”

Speaking these truths seems to relax him. He’s almost unfazed by the matter now. She supposes that’s the good in being honest. It’s why he always seems more free, less burdened from the war. She wishes she could be the same.

He doesn’t look taken aback anymore. “I mean, I…loved you then. I would have done anything for you.” From the corner of his eye, he notices her worrying a handkerchief between her fingers. He knows it’s no shock. No wide eyes, no surprises. Callum continues, “Afterwards, when you told me you were going to join the Guard, I supported your decision. It was yours to make and I wanted you to be happy.”

She hangs her head. I remember, because she already knew these things. All of them.

“If I’m being honest though, I wanted you to stay,” he adds, mostly as an afterthought. She can only wonder how long it took for him to say his piece so freely. “When I confessed everything to you five years ago, I meant it.”

“…I know,” she finally speaks, voice dulled to a whisper. A sad smile surfaces, because he speaks only of the past. “I’m sorry I left back then. At the time, I didn’t understand it so clearly.”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. You followed your own path. I couldn’t fault you for making your choice.”

She shakes her head here. Not because he was wrong, but because she was. Her resolve is crumbling, her pride withering away.

“It…it wasn’t a good choice, Callum,” she finally admits, and her shoulders are shaking. “I’d already been having nightmares before then. I was slipping, almost every day, and it got worse.” Her breaths tremble as they come out and she grips the wooden slats of the bench hard in her hands. “…in some ways, it never seemed like the war had ended.”

His neutral expression fades, slowly replaced with concern and worry. “It got worse? In what way?”

In every way, she answers in her mind. She gulps, swallows hard and remembers the times she’d been alone. Slipping in and out, day after day. Writing in her book, taking every assignment and keeping busy just to avoid the night terrors. Feeling pathetic when she couldn’t even do that.

She recalls every moment spent in slow healing. Huddled in a corner or looking for quiet places to wait out her episodes. Some of them didn’t last long, but they never stopped coming either. One step forward and one step back, it always seemed. A repetitive, stumble of a dance.

“Rayla, tell me. Why didn’t you-” He stops all of a sudden, catching something in her eyes.

It starts as a high-pitched fire, followed by a deafening loudness taking over.

He’s watching her when it happens.

Memories of the war flashing before her eyes in that slow, dreadful moment before she slips over. There’s a loud ring in her ears. It must be an explosion. A bomb, maybe. Rayla reaches behind her, tries to draw her blade – nothing. Stupid, she left her sword in her room. Another explosion sets off and time ticks slow again. Her breaths turn ragged. She doesn’t recognize it.

There are hands on her shoulders.

“Rayla, they’re only fireworks! It’s not real! There’s no-”

She doesn’t hear it.

Instead, she drops to her knees, cowers to the ground to find cover. The ring is so loud and piercing that her ear drums might burst and bleed. She slaps her hands to her ears and plugs them tight. Block out the incessant noise fighting for her attention.

“Rayla! Listen to me!”

There’s a muffled voice there, mixed with all the chaos. She tweaks one eyes open and makes out his crouched form in front of her. Callum? How did he get here?

She follows his voice and hones in on it, until it’s louder than the clamour. After a while, she manages to slow her breaths.

“Ah, that’s it. Keep going.”

She finally feels the gentle grips on her shoulders. After that, there are no more clashing swords. Somehow it’s working. She closes her eyes, focuses on nothing else.

“I know it’s loud,” she hears. His voice is muted, but she recognizes it.

Rayla sits there for a while, hands still pressed to her ears. Listen. Just listen. He lulls hushed words to her, trying to instill peace to her turmoil. And she can hear him. She remembers his comforting truths.

I cared for you.

I loved you.

I would have done anything for you.

Soon, the roars soften to small pops, mere crinkles in her ears. Her shaking subsides. The raging war has stopped. She slowly opens her eyes and glances around. No explosions. No dark magic. No pain. She’s not bound, there’s no bloodshed and her sight is clear. She knows what’s real. The panic slowly fades and ebbs into nothing.

“Not so loud anymore, huh?”

When she looks up, he’s right there. Eyes meeting hers, and he’s smiling.

She gently drops her hands in front of her.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, looking upwards.

She follows his gaze to the colourful myriad of patterns illuminating the sky. A spectacle of lights. Shooting up one after the other and coming to life in splendid colour. Blossoming into dazzling stars and kaleidoscopic forms. She stares slack-jawed and swallows hard. She hasn’t seen a firework in years.

“Beautiful,” she echoes.

For a while, they stare at the vibrant display. In her eyes, there’s something otherworldly and magical about the lights. She allows her mind to wander far away from here. Somewhere quiet and peaceful.

“Ah, Rayla, you’re-”

She looks at Callum, and then something drops in her hands. Her brows crease.

Teardrops.

“Oh, I’m…”

She stares down at her open palms, only registers the wet trails on her cheeks after they’ve fallen.

I’m…crying. Why…?

She doesn’t mean to. She didn’t even know tears could fall unconsciously, without her permission. Maybe they’re like instincts on a battlefield, knowing when to swerve left, or duck underneath a sword or run to take cover. She knows how to do all these things, except she hasn’t sobbed in a long time, and it’s a long forgotten feeling.

His gaze is gentle. “What’s wrong?”

She’s figuring it out herself. “I…don’t know.”

And then her memory trails backwards, flashing to a hundred fleeting moments. That’s when the sinking realization hits her – how much she’s missed him over the last five years. The emotions surface only now. She’s never given it much thought, which only makes her wonder how she can miss someone in retrospect like this.

Then again, she always knew she would. No one’s able to quiet the noise like he does.

All this time spent searching and pondering why she’s come, but deep down she already knew the answer. Callum’s different now, much like everyone else, and yet his touch still leaves a significant spark. She laughs quietly at her foolish self, and then her smile drops, overcome with something else entirely.

Five years gone and wasted.

Regret trickles in, seeps through the cracks and hardens.

Desire grows palpable in her chest and it’s so pure it hurts. All those years ago, she’d let go of something good and honest. She sees it now with absolute clarity. She must have been so dead to the world not to notice it. Blind, because she missed that chance. And utterly foolish, because a love like that is so extraordinary and rare.

This is what regret feels like. Carrying the weight of the world with no strength. Here he stands, and yet what’s left of her still remains an empty black hole.

She emits a heavy sigh. “Ah, I wish things were different,” she says so quietly.

“Pardon?”

Unsteady, she finds her feet and forces herself up, even if she feels lightheaded. He mirrors after her, keeping their gazes levelled. “I wish things were different,” she repeats, louder and resolute. And then she thinks about his honesty, and amends her remark. “I wish I stayed.”

For years she’s read him with ease, but now his expression is unreadable.

In between all the sentiments and fervent emotions brewing inside her, she finds the courage to smile. “…I loved you too, you know,” she finally says. No fear of getting hurt this time. She lets out a hollow laugh. “Back then, I was so convinced that joining the Guard was the right choice. If I had known I’d lose my mind, I wouldn’t have done it.”

Few tears still fall, she realizes. She can’t stop them.

“I guess it’s my fault we ended up here,” she admits, voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Callum.”

The last set of fireworks light the sky and all that’s left are trails of smoke in a darkened sky. Silence takes over now. She smiles at him, features sad and delicate. He’s holding his tongue, thinking it through. She decides to wait, gazes up at the stars until his mind is made up.

Finally, she hears him exhale a breath.

“Thank you,” he says, breaking silence. “For telling me.”

She doesn’t miss his wistful gaze. Perhaps all these years, he been waiting for her to say it and now the confession falls short. It’s too late now. He’s coming up empty too. The years are lost on them.

Callum reaches for her hands to unclench them, and it registers how hard she’s been digging her nails into her palms. He unwinds her fingers with his, until they fold into each other and she can’t ball her fists anymore. Eventually, he loosens his grip, lets her arms ago and then presses her against him.

She startles at first, makes a surprised sound, but eventually settles in. Her restraint buckles, and she finds her arms tucked between them to lift them around him. Rayla can’t remember the last time she’s been this close to anyone, and yet the feeling is so familiar. It’s the soft and comforting touch she barely remembers. A reminder there are things worth yearning for in the aftermath of war.

And still, it’s not enough.

The pressure and heat against her torso isn’t enough. He kisses the top of her head, quick and chaste, and it’s also not enough. She could hold on, press her lips to his, trail her hands on every part of him and still, still, it will never be enough to make up for lost time. Nothing to mend this unaccountable and unavoidable pain that this is what should have happened years ago. Like they were supposed to be something together.

Her breath falters.

Soon, he pulls away and there’s a somber, apologetic cloud in his eyes. She doesn’t know why and he doesn’t tell her. Instead, he nods mutely, bidding her a silent farewell before gently brushing past her.

She doesn’t want him to go. Not like this.

“Callum, wait.”

He pauses his step and turns to face her.

“Do you think…?” she pauses and hesitates, even as her heart wrings with desperation. She musters up the courage, because she needs to know. “…maybe, there’s still a chance? For us, I mean?”

The next moment she spends in wait feel the longest. She fills with nervous anticipation.

He looks on, gaze wistful, says nothing. And when the silence reigns for too long, she loses her smile. Time is ticking and with each second she grows uneasy. He opens his mouth to say something – she silently urges him to – but nothing comes out. Her face drops here, fingers wringing the ends of her sleeves. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“Rayla.”

When she looks up again, his eyes are steady, comforting even.

His regards her softly. “We loved each other once, right?”

She briefly bows her head and lets out a small breath. Her heart swells. “Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything afterwards, but a smile reaches his lips. He nods and bids her good night and finally, it’s enough. It’s the only answer she needs.

----------

#rayllum #rayla x callum #tdp rayllum #tdp rayla #tdp callum #angst #romance #dragon prince fanfic #Dragon Prince #fanfiction #Rayla #callum

4 notes · View notes