Kyyre’s brain was still short-circuiting, barely able to register the weight of Leon’s words.

Nibrook.

Leon was inviting him to Nibrook.

The thought sent a violent shudder down Kyyre’s spine, his fingers twitching where they rested against the fabric of his pants. He barely managed to keep his expression neutral, though his lips parted slightly, breath hitching.

To go to Nibrook meant to see Leon in his own element. It meant being surrounded by him, by his world, by the things that had shaped him into what he was. It meant seeing him in his territory, no distractions, no other heirs to pull his attention away.

Kyyre could barely process it.

It wasn’t an honor lightly given. He knew that.

His stomach was a mess of nervous knots and burning anticipation. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, gripping his knee tightly beneath the table to keep his fingers from visibly trembling. He willed himself to stay calm, to not betray how much he wanted this.

Because gods, did he want it.

“…I’d be honored,” he finally managed, voice soft, deliberate. He met Leon’s gaze for a moment longer than necessary before he flicked his attention away, heart hammering painfully in his chest.

Kyyre had never wanted something so badly in his life.

-

Astrid didn’t press Andromeda for more. She was barely holding herself together as it was, and he wasn’t in the habit of kicking people while they were down.

He walked beside her in silence, close enough to catch her if she stumbled, though he did not offer unnecessary touches. She wasn’t the type to appreciate being coddled, and he wasn’t the type to do it anyway.

His sharp eyes flicked over her as they moved, taking in every sign of distress—the way her breaths shuddered, the sheen of sweat on her skin, the sickly pallor that made her seem even more ghostly than usual.

Astrid did not like this.

He liked even less how the guards’ eyes widened at the sight of her, how they hesitated for the briefest moment before stepping aside.

Andromeda flicked her arm, and they obeyed without question.

They didn’t ask if she needed help.

They didn’t insist.

Astrid filed that detail away, his jaw clenching slightly as he stepped through the door after her.

Something wasn’t right.

And he would damn well figure out what it was.

Leon’s head dipped at Kyyre’s softly spoken answer, his smile accompanying his rapidly slapping tail as he leaned back from his plate. Satisfied with his fill. He saw the small flash of his eyes before he looked away, it only made his smile bigger.

Pushing himself up from his seat, he glanced down the length of the table to where the others were amusing themselves. Either by muttering about them or by silently plotting their next moves. Boring stuff, it was all boring until they were in an actual trial. That was when the fun would really happen, when Leon didn’t have to gallavant around pretending to be something he was not. Civilised.

His eyes carried over to Kyyre’s plate, watching the slow progression of consumption and it struck him that perhaps Kyyre would not like to be stranded here without Astrid. Perhaps he was at least a semi-decent substitute. Carefully, he sat back down as if he was going to spook the other man if he moved too quickly.

–

The solid thud of the wooden doors closed behind them and Andromeda grimaced, her torso throbbed from the effort of throwing up. The extensive bruising across her body certainly wasn’t helping the aching pain within her organs. It felt like someone had picked her up and wrung her out like a wet rag. Then on top of that, set her on fire.

She paused in the centre of the room, her feet meeting the fur skin rug of a bear, teetering on collapsing to the floor. The room was decorated with dark mahogany, the linen white and airy in contrast. There wasn’t a single area where the space had not been cleaned to perfection. It looked as though nobody was inhabiting it.

The huge four poster bed was calling her name, beckoning her to fall into its embrace but just as she felt that pull, another pull came from her stomach and she made for the bathroom. Leaving Astrid in her wake, the sound of her knees crashing to the wooden planks as she gave into the nausea once more. Her fingers gripped the edges of the porcelain, the cold ebbing into her fingers as she wretched.

Why did it have to be him that followed. She had expected Leon to come after her, he had seen her through this before, there would be no questions. But now, she had Astrid standing in the middle of her quarters, waiting.

It took her a few minutes, but eventually Andromeda emerged from the bathroom having wiped away the streams of her make-up. Her eyes blankly moved over Astrid, taking in his presence as she flicked her heels from her feet. Abandoning them on the floor as she padded towards the bed, footsteps timid as though each one could cause pain to rocket through her.

“You don’t have to stay, it’s not pretty.” She managed to croak out as she reached the bed, eyeing up the throws on top of it, the pristine white about to be ruined by her cold sweat and tossing and turning.

Her hand rested on one of the pillars near the bottom of the bed, looking at Astrid from across the piece of furniture. Waiting for him to make his quick dismissal and leave her to wallow in her episode.

Kyyre nearly chokes on his last bite of food as Leon shifts in his seat, clearly preparing to leave. He doesn’t think—he just shoves the last remnants of his meal into his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. The motion is so rushed it makes his throat ache.

He stands up too quickly, the world tilting around him as dizziness overtakes his vision. His balance wavers for a brief second before he locks his knees, forcing himself to stay upright. He feels incredibly stupid, standing there like a lost dog, watching Leon with wide eyes and a rapidly accelerating pulse.

He wants to go back to his quarters and sleep. He should go back to his quarters and sleep.

But Leon.

The words come out clumsily, his voice too tight, too uncertain. "Are—are you busy?" His fingers twitch at his sides, and he curses the warmth creeping up his neck, the unmistakable flush of nervousness.

Kyyre is no fool—he knows he’s making a fool of himself. But he cannot not ask.

-

Astrid exhales sharply through his nose as Andromeda weakly suggests he can leave. The sight of her—swaying, exhausted, barely standing—only serves to further solidify his decision.

He moves without hesitation, crossing the space between them in two long strides. Before she can protest, he grips her legs and pulls her onto the bed with a firm, unceremonious motion.

It’s not exactly gentle, but he’s not throwing her around either. He just acts, the way he always does, without entertaining pointless arguments.

“You’re a mess,” he mutters, barely sparing her a glance as he crouches down. He presses his hand to the floor, and within seconds, a small bucket of ice has formed beside the bed, the sharp chill of it biting into the air.

He stands again, arms crossing as he regards her with a level gaze. "Hot or cold?" His tone is gruff, but not unkind. He won’t leave her to suffer alone, but he also won’t tolerate her nonsense if she tries to downplay it.

Astrid may not be a comforting presence, but he is a steady one. Whether she likes it or not.

His eyes that were roaming the courtyard snapped back towards Kyyre as he heard the chair skitter across the floor, he was standing up now but looked particularly unstable. It made Leon rise back to his feet almost immediately, his tail giving one strong lash behind him just as the other man managed to stabilise himself.

He was waiting for him to say something, it looked like he wanted to but the words were trapped in his chest. Leon almost spoke himself, willing to break the silence and continue on his way to their quarters just as Kyyre piped up.

Kyyre’s question made his head tilt to one side rather dramatically, one eyebrow raised with curiosity.

“Not really, why?” His words were so simple, casual and relaxed in contrast to the tightly bound form of Kyyre in front of him.

Leon stole a glance to the hallway where the other two had departed down, expecting one of them to reappear but they did not. Slowly, his bright eyes found their way back to the pale ones that peered over him, widened to show more of their whites.

What had made this man so..hesitant? He was always looking around the room as if a wolf was about to jump out from the shadows and devour him. Which was ironic considering the wolf that was Astrid was practically superglued to his side at all hours of the day. Apart from right at this moment.

Leon kept his eyes steady as he looked expectantly towards Kyyre, happy to wait for whatever invitation was about to arrive.

–

Andromeda kept her eyes on him as he stared back at her from across the bed, the touch on the wooden pillar was feather-light, just grazing the carved image of a fox. There was the tiniest spark of something within Astrid’s eyes before she felt his presence immensely close, his hands dipping down to knock her off balance.

For a moment, her heart pounded against her ribs and she saw visions of her torso being ripped open by Astrid. Her blood spraying over the pristine white of the covers, staining it beyond repair. A beautiful demise, worthy of painting.

Then her back collided with the plush of the bed and he was not on top of her, his hands weren’t ploughing into her viciously. He was standing beside the bed. Her wide eyes panned to the side to observe him. He hadn’t planned to take advantage and dispatch her.

She saw the top of his head, the black hair peeking up from where he was crouched. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she tried to lean up to see what he was doing, perhaps he was planning to dive up and drive an ice stake into her heart.

Andromeda blinked blankly at his question. Both really, but while her skin felt freezing she knew she was burning up.

“Cold.” Her word was spoken softly, the first moment of genuine delicateness since she had officially met him. Andromeda let her head descend back into the pillows, pale eyes staring with droopy lids up at the chiffon drapes that swayed gently in a breeze. She must have left the window open. She didn’t care.

What puzzled her the most was his simple presence in her quarters. He had no real obligation to be here, other than maybe ensuring she wasn’t stabbed on the way to her room. Beyond that, Astrid had no reason to be here.

He was stuck of Kyyre’s side. So why has he departed now?

Andromeda lifted her eyes to watch him as he moved, it was blurry and confusing. A trail of movement lingered behind each tiny shift of his body, like she was watching things in slow motion only for it to rapidly speed up to reality and drop back again.

She felt the tensing of her stomach. The effort of her organs trying to eject the poison in her, but she knew it wouldn’t ever leave.

“Why are you here?” She asked quietly, her normally strong voice twisted into one of pitiful softness, barely a breath on her lips.

Kyyre’s breath feels too tight in his chest, as though speaking is a risk he shouldn’t be taking. His lips part, and yet the words seem lodged in his throat, thick and clumsy. Leon’s ease, the way he tilts his head with an almost lazy curiosity, does nothing to settle the gnawing tension in Kyyre’s limbs. He’s standing too stiffly, his shoulders drawn up, fingers twitching at his sides as if they don’t know where to rest.

His mind screams at him to stop making a fool of himself, but his mouth refuses to listen.

“I, uh—” The start is pitiful. He clears his throat, his fingers twisting slightly in front of him, betraying his uncertainty. “I just—if you’re not busy, then maybe… we could do something?”

The question lingers in the air, fragile and uneven. His pale eyes flick up to meet Leon’s, then immediately dart away, embarrassed by the weight of his own words. Be together. That was what he meant to say, and yet he cannot bring himself to say it outright. It sounds too raw, too desperate when spoken aloud.

Heat creeps up his neck, a telltale sign of his discomfort, and he silently curses himself for it. Why was this so difficult? It wasn’t as though he had asked for anything outrageous. And yet, as he shifts awkwardly on his feet, waiting for Leon’s response, it feels like he’s thrown himself into dangerous waters without knowing how to swim.

-

Astrid’s gaze flickers toward the open window, a cool breeze rustling the chiffon drapes, sending faint ripples through the delicate fabric. The air filtering through is brisk, and for a moment, he simply watches it, debating whether to let it be. But Andromeda’s answer lingers in his ears—"cold"—spoken in an uncharacteristic softness, barely above a breath.

He steps over, shutting the window with a firm but quiet motion. The latch clicks into place, sealing the room away from the chill outside. The air inside is still thick with the remnants of her sickness, and there’s something unsettling about it, something that makes his nose twitch slightly in distaste.

Turning back toward the bed, he watches her for a beat longer than necessary. Her face, normally sharp with calculation, is slack with exhaustion. The weight of whatever poison lingers in her veins drags at her limbs, making her look too fragile, too breakable. It’s a strange sight—one he isn’t entirely sure he likes.

Without a word, he strides forward, grabbing hold of the heavy blankets and pulling them over her body. The motion is practical, efficient, but not entirely without care. He tucks the edges loosely around her, ensuring she’s covered without pinning her down.

His hands linger for a moment at the edge of the bed, his fingers curling into the fabric as he considers what to say next.

Then, her voice—soft, questioning.

"Why are you here?"

He exhales through his nose, his jaw tightening slightly. That’s the question, isn’t it? It should be an easy answer. He should brush it off, tell her he was simply making sure she didn’t collapse in the hallway or choke to death in her sleep. That would be the logical thing to say.

But logic doesn’t quite explain why he’s still here.

He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t linger.

Astrid straightens, his arms folding over his chest as he watches her, his expression unreadable.

“Because you look like shit,” he finally says, blunt as ever. “And I’d rather not be the one to explain your corpse to the others.”

It’s a half-truth. A convenient one. But even as the words leave his mouth, he knows it’s not the real answer.

He glances at the bucket made out of ice he created, debating whether to conjure more and press some against the back of her neck to cool her down faster, even as she said she was cold. She looks feverish, her skin pallid yet flushed in odd places. Instead, he simply steps back, dragging the chair from the corner of the room closer to the bedside and sitting down. His posture is relaxed, one ankle resting on his knee, but his gaze remains sharp, watchful.

“Try to sleep,” he says after a pause, the rough edge of his voice betraying something softer underneath. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The following question was simple enough, but the fact it was so simple is what stumped Leon. The way Kyyre was fidgeting and averting his gaze made it seem like he had just asked him to do something indecent. With a short huff of laughter, he stepped out from beside his chair, ignoring the vague groans from the other heirs as they had to bear witness to this obvious display that Leon was clearly oblivious to.

“Of course we can do something, I mean it’s late. Sleep would be good, but if you’re still feeling awake I’m sure we can find something.” He mused, more mumbling his answer to himself as he filed through his brain for something to do.

He hadn’t expected that question really, he had expected an escort request or something of that ilk. Not something so vague in its meaning.

Leon was still pondering within his own mind by the time he had circled around the table to reach Kyyre’s side, only then did he let his eyes focus on the other man. A smile rising to his lips, he didn’t want to intimidate the heir, nor appear as though he didn’t really want to offer up his time. In fact, he was more than willing to devote his time.

“What is it, Kyyre? You look like you’re going to keel over.” He jested lightly, ducking his head down a little to get a better look at him, his bandaged and slinged arm hanging a little further away from his chest. His tail making a gentle, half-hearted swing behind him as he spoke, truly as oblivious as ever.

–

A short sound came from her throat that almost sounded like weak laughter before Andromeda fell into a bout of coughing. Her spine hunching over as she twisted her head away to hack into her hands and pillows, creasing up her features with the effort that tore at her body.

Each cough felt like it was going to break her ribs. A bloom of fresh agony with every contortion of her muscles, teasing her with a second of respite before errupting once again.

Eventually, as she heard the tugging of furniture, buckling the rug on the floor as Astrid moved what she assumed was a chair, she managed to get her lungs under control.

Slowly, Andromeda returned her eyes to Astrid as he perched himself into the chair. He was a little more focused than before but the edges of him were misty, blending into the dark backdrop.

He wouldn’t have had to explain her corpse. She knew that. He could have left her to wretch in the halls and fall victim to Fawn. No one would bat an eye. Killings outside of the trials were not unusual, quite commonplace actually. With her track record, it was almost expected that she would be culled from the group. He was here for another reason, not just this infant alliance they had created.

She steadied her breathing as best she could, but it still took tremendous effort not to let her coughing reignite.

“I’m honoured.” The sarcasm still dripped through despite the rough condition she was in, cutting through the bleak tone sharply.

Andromeda let the silence permeate the room, casting her eyes back to the chiffon above her, no longer swaying in the breeze. Her eyes closed and opened ever so slowly, as though she were fighting off the allure of sleep.

“You left Kyyre in there.” She commented eventually, still staring up above herself, not sparing him another glance.

Kyyre’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest when Leon steps closer, his casual words somehow both reassuring and overwhelming at the same time. The warmth of Leon’s presence is too much—the weight of his attention pressing against Kyyre’s already frazzled nerves. He hadn't expected such an easy yes, nor for Leon to actually move closer without hesitation.

His fingers twitch at his sides, unsure what to do with themselves, and his body curls inward as if trying to make himself smaller. Why did I even ask? His thoughts spiral wildly, unable to settle, but Leon's voice pulls him back to reality.

"What is it, Kyyre? You look like you’re going to keel over."

Kyyre’s throat constricts as Leon ducks his head, leaning in slightly, those bright eyes peering at him with clear amusement. It’s too close. Kyyre’s brain locks up. Heat floods his face so fast it makes him feel lightheaded, and he panics, hard.

“I—!” His voice cracks, and he immediately clamps his mouth shut, horrified. He clears his throat, but his mind has already completely shut down. What was he supposed to say?! That he just wanted to be near Leon? That he wasn’t thinking about the logistics of it when he asked, only that he wanted something, anything—even just a moment in Leon’s company without Astrid around to cast judgment?

His lips part again, but nothing coherent comes out.

Eventually, he forces something, anything past the lump in his throat.

“Nothing! I just—wanted to, um—” His voice falters again, but he forces himself to power through, gripping his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “You, uh. You said sleep would be good, but—maybe not yet?” He winces immediately at his own words, at how pathetic and flustered they sound, and averts his gaze, feeling his stomach twist itself into a thousand knots.

He doesn’t know if he wants to run or collapse on the spot.

Kyyre’s skin prickles as he feels eyes on him. Not just Leon’s—everyone’s. The other heirs aren’t even trying to be subtle about it, watching with open amusement, mild curiosity, or thinly veiled annoyance.

His stomach drops.

He shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have said anything. What the hell was he thinking? Now they were all looking at him. He catches the hint of a smirk from Luka, the barely perceptible whisper of him leaning in to murmur something to Maia.

His breath stutters.

He can’t do this.

Before he has a chance to rationalize his actions—or stop himself—he latches onto Leon’s good wrist, fingers curling desperately around the fabric of his sleeve.

And then he moves.

Fast.

Leon barely has time to react before Kyyre is dragging him toward the hall, his grip firm but frantic, his legs moving far too quickly for someone who was swaying on his feet just moments ago. He doesn’t care where they go—just away from the staring, from the whispers, from the crushing weight of humiliation threatening to suffocate him.

His heart is hammering, his breath coming faster than it should, but he doesn’t stop until they’re past the threshold of the hall, away from the prying eyes of the others.

Only then does he let go, stumbling a little as he does. He presses his back against the nearest wall, his pulse still erratic, his entire face burning.

He refuses to look at Leon.

“…Sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, mortified and breathless all at once. His fingers twitch at his sides, fidgeting like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “I just—” He stops himself before he can make it worse, before he can admit something stupid.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to take a deep breath.

“…I just didn’t want to be in there anymore.”

-

Astrid exhales through his nose, a slow, steady breath meant to keep his irritation at bay. The sarcasm is unnecessary, but he supposes it wouldn't be Andromeda without it. Even while half-dead in her bed, voice strained and breath unsteady, she still had the energy to needle at him.

His fingers drum idly against the armrest of the chair, his gaze flicking from her fever-flushed face to the barely shifting rise and fall of her chest. He listens to the silence, watches the way her eyelids flutter, teetering on the edge of sleep.

And then she speaks again, cutting through the quiet.

"You left Kyyre in there."

Astrid’s brow furrows, the barest flicker of a scowl tugging at the corner of his lips. Of course she’d notice that.

For a moment, he doesn’t respond. He shifts slightly in the chair, his body still as a statue except for the briefest flick of his fingers against the wooden armrest. He doesn’t owe her an explanation, doesn’t need to justify anything.

But the words slip out anyway.

“…I trust Leon.” His voice is quieter this time, almost mumbled, like the admission isn't meant for anyone to actually hear.

And it’s true—Leon may be an irritating, reckless wildcard, but Astrid knows him.

..feels like he knows him.

He knows Leon wouldn’t let Kyyre get into trouble. And he knows, deep down, that Kyyre needs to learn to navigate this world without Astrid always looming at his side.

It doesn’t mean Astrid likes it.

His fingers flex against the chair.

He leans back, exhaling again, this time with less sharpness to it. “He can handle himself,” he mutters, as if trying to convince himself more than anything.

His eyes twitch the tiniest bit at the sound of Kyyre’s voice crackling, not in a critical manner, but in mere acknowledgement of the sound. Other than that he kept his attention on Kyyre as he struggled to get his words out, giving him all the time in the world to build up his statement. However the incessant murmuring from further down the table was beginning to irritate him.

As Kyyre fumbled for his words, Leon’s gaze slowly slid to the side to look out across the table. Spiking directly into Luka as he leaned in towards Maia and spoke, the words caused his muscles to flex, his tail to twitch.

If it wasn’t for the electrifying sensation of his hand gripping his wrist and dress shirt, Leon’s throat would have begun to rumble with the beginnings of a snarl. Instead he was completely distracted by the dizzying sensation that was crawling up from where Kyyre was all but dragging him across the courtyard.

His feet fought to gain some type of order as he stumbled over a short rise in one of the mosaic tiles, correcting his movement quickly enough to keep up with the other man as they darted down one of the hallways. Leon didn’t exactly know what was going on but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited.

In the darker hallway, Kyyre freed him from his grasp and leaned backwards towards the rough brick wall. Leon remained where he was, casting a darker shadow over Kyyre as the fire from a nearby sconce flickered behind him. In the dark, his eyes reflected some of the light, bouncing off the back of his retina and back out again in a way that made his iris look silver-green.

“Why are you apologising? They’re all our enemies, I didn’t want to be around them either.” He countered smoothly, his hand hanging limply where Kyyre had abandoned it. Leon gave him a moment to breathe before daring to speak once more.

“Did you want my company or was that a method of escaping the table?” His question carried no ill intent, no disheartened tone, simply a question. Whatever the answer, he would honour it by either leaving or staying. It was as simple as that.

If it had been an excuse, Leon couldn’t blame him. The other heir looked like he was about to implode, his pale skin flushed with colour and eyes darting around in a panic. They were all tired, they were all hurt. Hurt people were as dangerous as the largest Nibrook beast.

–

She didn’t miss the huff of air from his lungs, the subtle indication of his displeasure towards her cockiness. It drew the faintest of curls to her lips before it fell away just as quickly as it had arrived. Her ears honed in on the soft tapping of his fingers, combatting the pounding within her own head, focusing her mind on the real sounds instead of the ones from within herself.

Andromeda did not look over at him once, instead she kept her gaze trained up above herself, as though she could see something there that no one else could. A low hum from the back of her throat was her reply. She should have expected that answer, he had wounded himself for Kyyre so obviously there was trust built there but enough to be left alone? That was the surprising part.

“Leon likes him, he won’t hurt him. You’re right.” Her answer was calm, almost monotone. Each word felt like she was battling to get it out. “Even if he is blind to the effect he has on..people.” She was going to say him, but left that a little more ambiguous. They both knew what she had meant.

The pull of sleep was still heavy on her mind, trying to drag her into the dark depths of her mind. She didn’t want to give in. Even if Astrid had told her to. The promise of sleep meant reliving the chaos of her own head.

It wasn’t her own head really. It was a sickening amalgamation of people she had spited, ones she had blessed with forgetting the most painful moments of their lives, others she imbued with eldritch horrors. The latter was something the ice kingdom was familiar with after she had sent their brethren home a broken soul.

Kyyre’s breath is still uneven, his chest rising and falling as he stares down at the floor. He’s painfully aware of how ridiculous he must look—how desperate. His fingers twitch at his sides, restless with the urge to do something, anything, other than stand here feeling like his ribcage is caving in.

Leon’s voice cuts through the thick air between them, steady and unbothered, as if he hadn’t just been hauled away from the table in a panic-driven frenzy. Kyyre’s eyes flick up, and for a brief moment, all he sees are those reflective, silver-green irises glowing in the dim light, watching him.

Such gorgeous eyes.

How easy it would be..

His stomach twists.

He swallows hard, pressing his back further into the wall as if he could disappear into the stone itself.

He doesn’t want Leon to leave.

The thought of it—the idea of being alone after making such a fool of himself—makes his skin crawl. But he can’t just say that.

His mouth opens, then closes again. His fingers flex, clenching and unclenching at his sides before he forces himself to take a breath, trying to steady the anxious tremor in his voice.

“I—” He hesitates, but only for a second. “I did want your company.” The words come out in a rush, and Kyyre immediately hates how eager they sound, how embarrassingly raw they feel leaving his mouth.

He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest in a poor attempt at casualness.

“I mean—you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.” He keeps his voice even, but the way his fingers dig into his arms betrays him. “I just—” Didn’t want to be in there—he almost says it again, but it’s not really the truth, is it?

Kyyre exhales sharply, finally forcing himself to meet Leon’s gaze, ignoring the way his pulse stutters at the intensity of it.

“…I’d rather talk to you than them.”

It’s not perfect. It’s not smooth or clever. But it’s honest.

-

Astrid watches the tension in Andromeda’s face, the way her eyelids droop and fight to stay open, the way her voice teeters on the edge of exhaustion. It’s stubbornness keeping her conscious—nothing else.

He exhales slowly through his nose, shifting his weight before rising from the chair. The wooden legs scrape softly against the floor, but he doesn’t sit back down.

Instead, he moves toward the bed, pulling more of the blankets up over her body with slow, deliberate care.

“You should sleep.” His voice is quieter now, lacking its usual sharpness. It’s not quite gentle—nothing about Astrid is—but it’s firm in a way that leaves no room for argument.

She’s fading. He can see it.

For a moment, he stands beside the bed, watching her with an unreadable expression. Then, after a beat of hesitation, he reaches out—not touching her, but close enough that the movement registers.

“I’ll still be here,” he mutters, barely above a breath, as if saying it out loud makes it less true. As if he’s reassuring himself just as much as her.

A quick sigh of relief bled out from his lips, his head tipping back for the briefest of moments as he blinked away his tension. His tail behind him hung a little limper, more relaxed in the way it flicked. The trembling of Kyyre’s fingers, the way he struggled to get his words out. All of it made Leon think the heir was nothing but terrified of him, in some sort of intoxicated way. That perhaps the scene of him huffing and puffing, covered in blood and viscera had made Kyyre scared of him.

“That’s a relief.” He tilted his head back down to look at him, the lazily smile back on his lips, shoulders losing the flexed state he had been holding them in. Underneath his shirt, the fur running along his back settled down against his skin, no longer pushing uncomfortably up against the fabric.

“I thought you were afraid of me for a second there, after all the..gore of that trial.” He gave a short look at his own still broken arm, slightly sheepish before snapping his bright eyes back up to Kyyre.

As he stood there, he felt the pull again in his chest. Except there wasn’t anyone else around this time.

There was a shimmer of something darker in Leon’s eyes as they settled on Kyyre. His tail slowed in its swaying. There was a slack in his smile before he brought himself back to reality. Ignoring the way his hand twitched to move forwards, to mimic the way Astrid touched him. Did he do it because he found enjoyment in it or was it Kyyre that wanted it? Either way it made his skin ripple with that feeling again.

–

Her body didn’t react at the pressure of the added blankets, not the presence of Astrid as he leaned over her. The gentle way he settled the throw into place around her, her body was appreciative for the added weight. It made her feel that little bit more present in the moment instead of fading into the recesses of her own mind.

Andromeda let her eyes glide over towards him as he stood beside the bed looking down at her. Eyes giving nothing away as he watched her, there was nothing to observe there and she was in no state to go poking at his thoughts. One use of her gift and she would be fitting again.

As his arm moved, her eyes flicked down to the movement, expecting him to complete the action and touch her but he didn’t. He lingered nearby, some kind of emotion rolling off of him but she couldn’t place it.

She wasn’t sure if his words were comforting or disturbing. She couldn’t decide if she wanted him to be there, if she had made a crucial mistake by letting him in here, by letting him see this. This mess that she became far too often to admit. So far, he had asked no prying questions, no murder attempts. So by all accounts, she should be comforted by his company.

Andromeda did not give him a verbal reply, instead she drew her eyes away from him, blinking slowly as she returned her pale eyes to the ceiling and chiffon above her head. The weight of the covers pulled her into the mattress, the warmth of her skin bled into the fabrics and created a perpetual warmth along her entire body. While her head groaned at the increased heat, her sore muscles relaxed in comfort.

She wished this upon no one as Andromeda let her eyes flutter closed. Coming to terms with the very real possibility that she could not wake up, that Astrid would turn on her in her sleep. That was a chance she was going to have to take as her body dragged her into the depths of sleep.