(TW: Panic attack)
In the hushed corridors of the guest wing, each door was flanked by guards who respectfully bowed as Callidus guided Cressida through the familiar hallway. Cressida's gaze lingered on each sentinel, her body subtly tensing against Callidus with each encounter.
Approaching the end of the hall, they arrived at the entrance to the Sapphire Suite, marked by the mesmerizing stained-glass window, its vibrant colors muted by the late hour. The guards stationed outside the suite's door straightened upon catching sight of Callidus, swiftly stepping aside to grant access.
Callidus glanced at Cressida to gauge her reaction before opening the door. Ushering her inside, he closed the door behind them, his eyes never leaving her. Cressida's head swept around the once-familiar confines of her temporary prison, but her expression remained unreadable.
The subtle noise of the bedroom door opening and closing drew their attention, revealing the entrance of Physician Sakira into the main room of the suite. She paused before offering a polite bow. "Your Future Majesties."
Callidus nodded in approval before turning his attention back to Cressida. "You recognize Physician Sakira," he said. "She has been tending to Jasper."
Cressida's gaze shifted towards the closed bedroom door, her face now clearly reflecting concern. Sensing the delicate atmosphere, Sakira spoke gently, "Crown Prince Jasper is currently asleep."
Cressida's worry deepened, and she turned her attention to Sakira. "How is he?"
Sakira's eyes flicked to Callidus, who subtly nodded. As she began detailing Jasper's condition, Callidus's focus was drawn to the middle window overlooking his once-manicured garden, now marred by weeds and overgrown plants. The sight of it filled him with an anxious guilt, much like the sight of Cressida's current worried expression. In an attempt to quell the churning in his stomach, Callidus averted his eyes from both.
"Will he be alright if I see him?" He heard her cautiously ask.
"I gave him something to help him sleep, so he may be somewhat confused should you speak to him. But otherwise, he is fine."
Out of the corner of his eye, Callidus observed Cressida reaching for Sakira's hand, squeezing it graciously. "Thank you for caring for my brother. I remember your treatment when I needed it, and I truly appreciate it."
Sakira's eyes widened, appearing flustered. "O-of course. It is my duty and privilege to provide care to those in need."
Cressida responded with a small, genuine smile, causing a sudden pang of jealousy to course through Callidus. He masked his emotions, maintaining a stoic exterior. "Sakira, you are dismissed to get some rest," he commanded in a subdued tone. "Thank you for your work the last few days." Sakira executed a formal bow before swiftly exiting the suite.
Without sparing Callidus a glance, Cressida headed toward her former bedroom. Instinctively, he reached out, but she deftly sidestepped his attempt to touch her, leaving his outstretched hand hanging in the air. The abrupt rejection left an unsettling ache in its wake, particularly considering how she had clung to him just moments ago.
"Cressida," he called out, but she continued without acknowledging him.
"Callidus, I want some time alone with him, please."
Callidus's heart clenched, a bitterness coating his tongue as he replied, "I promised you honesty, not privacy."
Cressida turned to face him, her eyes penetrating the dimly lit room. "I need both, Callidus."
"I can only provide one. You choose."
"Callidus. I just learned you gave my brother a concussion. Is it any wonder why I don't want to be in the same room as you right now?"
"I sincerely never wanted to hurt him. Your brother resembles you. It sickened me to see his hair matted with blood."
Cressida's face briefly paled at the description before she let out a scoff. "So, if he didn't resemble me, you'd have killed him?"
"Cressida, no, that's not what I meant," Callidus replied, stumbling over his words. "He's a prince. The repercussions of killing a prince, even from such a weak nation-" His explanation faltered as Cressida shot him a wounded look. Stammering, he tried to backtrack, "I didn't mean to belittle Eflia. I just wanted to say-"
"Stop," Cressida interrupted. "Just stop." Frustration clawed at the back of Callidus's throat, a surge of desperate explanations yearning to escape his lips, but he fell silent. She turned away, her gaze locked on the closed bedroom door. "Why don't you want me to see Jasper by myself? Be honest."
"I... I'm not entirely sure," Callidus admitted. "I want to be there to ensure things go smoothly to... to guide the conversation if needed."
"You mean control it."
Callidus took a deep breath, grappling with his own weakness before he conceded, "Yes, control it. I do not like the thought of not being able to control what the two of you speak about. It frightens me."
Cressida's anger softened into weariness, and she turned towards him. "Callidus," she murmured. "I haven't seen my brother since leaving Eflia. I'm not going to go in there to badmouth you; I'm not going to think about you at all. I'm going to ask about my family, see how he's doing, and cry while hugging him."
Callidus's jaw tightened at her words, a surge of insecurity and possessiveness scratching at his insides. "I... just want to be in the room, Cressida. I won't interrupt."
"Callidus, why? Why can't you give me two seconds with my brother? You've had me all to yourself for months."
"Your brother had you all your life. I've had you for a summer."
"Callidus, I'm not your possession."
"Cressida, it's taking everything in me to resist dragging you back to Windridge right now. That is not a threat. It is truth."
"Callidus, the fact that it's the truth makes it even more threatening."
"I'm sorry."
Cressida let out an exasperated hiss, before she muttered, "Fine. Just... stand in the doorway."
Nodding in relief, Callidus loomed behind her as the door cracked open. The bedchamber beyond was draped in complete darkness.
Jasper lay on the bed, shrouded in shadows, the faint light from the doorway revealing only the outline of his form beneath the covers. Cressida's silhouette approached, her hands hovering hesitantly in front of her chest, uncertain whether to disturb his rest. Finally, she settled on the edge of the bed, her entire focus fixed on her brother's face.
Callidus's presence cast a long, anxious shadow in the subdued light as he observed from his designated spot. His eyes strained to discern Cressida, shifting his attention to the air surrounding her, catching the subtle movement of her hand extending to brush against Jasper's cheek. Memories of Cressida's response to his own injury flashed through Callidus's mind, accompanied by a surge of yearning and envy.
The room held its breath until Cressida's voice shattered the stillness, laden with the imminent release of tears.
"...Yapper."
A pregnant pause lingered before the covers rustled, signaling Jasper's gradual awakening. "Jasper," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Yapper."
Jasper stirred from his sleep, his voice an incoherent mumble of protest. Cressida's response was immediate. A hiccup escaped her as she buried her face into the covers, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Callidus flinched at the familiar feeling, physically restraining himself from rushing to her side. He had to remind himself that he promised not to interrupt; he was just there to observe.
Jasper's eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding his gaze. As he focused on Cressida openly weeping on him, he mumbled in disorientated concern, "Cressy, Cress, hey, what's wrong? You have a bad dream?"
His movements were gentle, his drowsy arms wrapping around Cressida instinctively, seeking to comfort her in his half-awake state. Cressida responded with another choked hiccup, and Jasper's hand found her hair, patting it several times before hovering as if in sudden realization.
"Cress," he exclaimed, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Hey...! Shit, Cress...!"
Sniffling, Cressida eased back slightly to meet her brother's gaze. "Language, Yapper," she managed, her voice shaky but filled with joy.
Jasper stared at her, before letting out a rasp of a laugh and pulling her into a tight hug. "Sorry, Mother."
Cressida let out another hiccup before descending into tears again.
"Hey, hey, stop that," he said, pulling away and playfully pouting at her. "Why the tears? Last time I saw you, you were crying too."
"Your face just has that effect on people," she teased.
"Only when I've been rudely awakened. Did my drool trigger this emotional response?"
Jasper made a silly face, and Cressida collapsed into him, their shared laughter mingling with the echoes of her sobs. "Jasper, I've missed you so much."
"Well, of course. Who doesn't?" he laughed. "And I've missed you, Cress. Everyone has. As soon as you and Wale left, it was like the life was sucked from the castle."
"I never could have imagined I'd ever hear you say you missed Quail," Cressida said through a tearful smile.
"I don't miss him. I miss his built-in bug repellent."
"And here I thought you said he talked the bugs into biting you."
In the doorway, Callidus's stance grew rigid as he observed the instinctual warmth between Jasper and Cressida. It was a striking difference from the strained atmosphere he had shared with Cressida earlier. Jealousy surged within him, toxic and consuming, as he witnessed how effortlessly Jasper comforted her.
"Hey, hey, careful Cress," Jasper mumbled as Cressida tightly hugged him once more. "My head isn't right. Although, when has that ever been the case?"
Cressida pulled back slightly, her hands hovering over Jasper's face as she examined him. "Are you in pain?"
"I feel like I've got an after-Springtide hangover. Dizzy, nauseous, and the headache is nasty. But it's nothing I haven't survived before."
Cressida cast a quick, sideways glance at Callidus, her words escaping in a hushed whisper. Jasper, his brows furrowed, mumbled loud enough for Callidus to hear, "...What? No."
Callidus frowned, eyes narrowing, and he straightened from his position against the door frame.
"...must have...?" Cressida insisted.
"No, Cress. Really."
Cressida leaned closer to Jasper, whispering inaudibly again, and Callidus called out a warning.
"Cressida."
Her head snapped up to glare at him, and Jasper's gaze shifted toward the doorway, locking eyes with Callidus. A moment of confusion passed before recognition dawned, followed by a polite smile.
"Oh, Your Majesty!" Jasper greeted, attempting to sit up with Cressida still draped over him. "Uh, hey. Good morning...?"
"It's two hours past midnight," Callidus replied, his focus on Cressida.
Jasper delicately extricated himself from Cressida's hug, shifting to an upright position."...guess that explains why it's so damn dark in here," he remarked, stifling a yawn with one hand while playfully tousling Cressida's hair with the other. Callidus tensed at the casual disrespect towards her, but oblivious to the underlying hostility, Jasper continued his drowsy lighthearted banter. "Are we having a sleepover, Cress? We haven't done that since you were, what, seven? I remember babysitting you and Ox that one summer. Remember how angry your nursemaid got?"
Cressida managed a small laugh, before murmuring, "...let me light the lantern, Jasper."
Eager to be of use, Callidus lit the lantern before Cressida could move. As the room bathed in a soft, flickering glow, Cressida glanced at him with an unreadable expression.
Jasper squinted at the light, adjusting to the sudden change. "Ooh, my head," he mumbled. "That doesn't feel good."
Cressida turned her attention back to Jasper, fussing over his bandage much like Lady Hale had days prior. She comforted him for several more moments before asking, "...Jasper, how long have you been in Ashlar...?"
"I just arrived today," he replied confidently. "Met His Majesty this morning."
"...today?" Cressida echoed. "That's not what...?" She glanced again at Callidus, this time in an accusatory question.
"Prince Jasper," Callidus rushed to clarify, "You, in fact, arrived several weeks ago. It seems you are still somewhat disoriented."
Jasper frowned, his gaze shifting between Callidus and Cressida. "Oh really? I swear I just...huh. Pardon my confusion."
"Jasper, what do you re..." Cressida suddenly paused mid-sentence and gasped. "Jasper, your eye!"
Jasper flinched. "What? Did it fall out?"
"It's...it looks..."
He touched the right side of his face, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "Oh, my pupil? Is it really that noticeable?"
"Is it permanent?"
"The physician said it might be," Jasper shrugged. "But hey, it adds character, right?"
"You don't need any more character," she muttered, her features softened with worry. "What do you remember last?"
Jasper rubbed his temples, as if coaxing memories to the surface. "Last? Uh, I remember talking to His Majesty about..." His eyes widened, and without hesitation, he reached for Cressida's left hand. Callidus's fingers twitched in response, unaccustomed to others casually touching her.
"Phew, that's a heavy ring, Cress," Jasper said, whistling in admiration. "So, it's true, huh? You're the future Queen of Ashlar. Again."
Cressida laughed nervously. "Yeah, it's... quite the piece, isn't it? So...you know about my new engagement?"
"Yes, Cressida," Callidus interjected, unable to hold back. "I told you your brother supports our marriage." (Rather, he did after his memory loss.) Cressida shot him a sharp look, silently reprimanding the interruption.
Jasper leaned back against the pillows, seemingly unfazed by the tension. "That's right," he mumbled. "Eflia and Ashlar are going to have an alliance. I remember that. Good job, Cress. I knew you didn't kill Ox."
Cressida, her eyes widening with surprise, fixed an intense gaze on her brother. "You... genuinely support the marriage?"
"Absolutely, Cress! It's fantastic for Eflia," Jasper exclaimed, radiating enthusiasm. "I'm one hundred percent behind you." She lapsed into a stunned silence as Jasper continued, "I mean, after Ox died, I thought Eflia was screwed. Excuse my language, Cress, but you weren't privy to those high-stakes meetings. Ashlar wasn't the only nation flexing its muscles. We could really use the protection."
Cressida remained in a state of bewilderment, carefully extracting her hand from Jasper's. She glanced down at her engagement ring, fidgeting with it as she mumbled, "I...I thought you came here to bring me back home."
"Well, yeah, initially. I imagined you in some cell, terrified, munching on stale bread. I didn't realize you'd already been rescued. Missed my chance to be the hero, but hey, I can still be the supportive brother, right?"
"What about mother and father? Weren't they worried when they heard I was arrested? They really didn't send you here?"
Jasper's cheerful demeanor wavered, revealing an underlying concern. "Cress...hey, of course they were worried. But you know how Mom is. Eflia has always been the most important thing to her. She cried for weeks, but she's also practical. Pops, well, he was upset too, but he agreed that there's not much Eflia can do. We're a speck on the map. Ashlar is... Ashlar."
Cressida's eyes widened, and she blinked rapidly, absorbing the weight of her brother's words. Jasper winced at her reaction, leaning in to gently squeeze her hand, bringing a pause to her fidgeting. "I'm not saying it's right, but that's how they see it, Cress. They can't afford to start a war over you."
Cressida's shoulders slumped, and she turned her head away. "I...I understand that. I didn't want them to. But..."
"Yeah, I get it. I hated it, too. So, I rushed here, fearing the worst. Thought you were facing execution. I'm just relieved you're alright." He paused, before asking, softer. "...you are alright, aren't you? You're safe?"
"My security is Ashlar's top priority."
Jasper sighed in relief. "Good, good. That's all that matters. When I heard the news about your arrest, I felt like the ground had been pulled from under me. If I had known you were safe, I wouldn't have barged in like I did. I mean, look at you, Cress. From imprisonment to engagement, saving Eflia with an alliance. How'd you pull that off?"
His praise held a mix of genuine admiration and brotherly pride, prompting a weak smile from Cressida. Jasper's gaze shifted towards the still-standing Callidus, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. "Well, I suppose it's obvious your fiancé had a hand in it."
Cressida's laughter bubbled forth, genuine but with a hint of hysteria. "He did."
"You've snagged yourself a royal mastermind, Cress. Quite the catch. Poor Ox, may he rest in peace, but he didn't exactly have those genes."
"Jasper...!"
Jasper winced, saying, "Sorry, Cress. My filter's a bit off right now."
Cressida shot Callidus a sidelong glance, a swirl of emotions in her eyes. Callidus wasn't sure how she wanted this conversation to unfold. Would she reveal the truth of Ferox's death? While inconvenient, Callidus wouldn't interfere. (Though he was glad she hadn't chosen the Royal Tombs as a destination yet.)
But to Callidus's surprise, Cressida just sighed, turning her attention back to Jasper. "I missed your unfiltered comments, Yapper. I'm glad you haven't changed."
"And I'm glad I didn't have to fight an army to bring my sister home. You always were into the tall silent types. You had such a crush on Fost-"
"Jasper!"
"Whoa, okay. Touchy subject. Got it."
She took a deep breath, a subtle tremor in her voice as she changed the direction of the conversation. "Enough about me. How is everything back home?"
Jasper, catching the shift in her tone, quickly adapted, diving into a vivid depiction of bustling marketplaces, a chaotic staff, and the serene landscapes that defined their homeland. He seemingly chose only light-hearted, happy anecdotes, speaking with the air of someone attempting to console and uplift. His stories unfolded like a recent memory, the details coming alive as if he had just experienced them a few days ago. He seemed somewhat unaware of the passage of time and retained the impression that he came to Ashlar on his own, a misconception that Callidus didn't rush to correct.
Callidus leaned against the wall as he listened, the names, and places unfamiliar, the details a blur of information that held no personal significance to him. Even as Cressida laughed at Jasper's story of their overenthusiastic dog, Callidus observed a distant glaze in her eyes. Despite her attempts to ask specific questions, a forced engagement colored her curiosity. It was as if she compelled herself to be present in the moment.
As Jasper's narrative reached a dramatic pause, he couldn't contain his excitement. "And that brings us to the best part," he declared. "You're going to be an aunt, Cress!"
Cressida gasped. "Samira is pregnant?"
"Yep! The heir to the Eflian throne is on the way!"
Cressida's expression shifted from shock to sheer joy. She launched herself at Jasper, enveloping him in a tight embrace. "Congratulations, Yapper! This is amazing news!"
"Whoa, whoa, careful, Cress!"
"Do you want a boy or a girl?"
"I don't care, as long as they take after Samira instead of me."
Callidus, witnessing the genuine happiness in Cressida's face, felt a momentary reprieve from the earlier unease. However, after several more moments of shared joy, Cressida's voice grew solemn. "You should be with your wife, Jasper. She needs you more than I do. You left her to come all the way to Ashlar? What were you thinking?"
Jasper's bear hug tightened before he slowly let go. "I know, Cress. I... I just couldn't sit idly by, not knowing if you were safe or what was happening here. I had to make sure you were okay. I couldn't focus on anything else."
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine," Cressida said tightly, subtly pulling away from his lingering hold. "I'll be the queen of Ashlar. And Eflia will prosper. You should go home, Jasper."
Callidus's brows raised in surprise, as an awkward silence settled in the room.
"I mean...yeah, that's the plan," Jasper finally spoke up, his words tinged with uncertainty. "But I just got here."
"You didn't just get here, Jasper. You've been here for weeks, and you already got hurt. You need to go home."
"I...I wanted to make sure you were safe. And now that I'm here, I can help with the alliance-"
"Jasper, you're not helping. You being here only complicates things."
Jasper's hand reached instinctively to cup the back of his neck, and a nervous laugh escaped his lips. "I mean, that's my one talent. Complicating things. But Cress, you're my baby sis-"
"You have an actual baby on the way, Jasper. You need to prioritize your child."
"Cress, I can't choose between family-"
"Our parents did!"
The room's atmosphere grew heavier and Callidus uncrossed his arms and straightened from his position against the wall.
Jasper's expression shifted from surprise to concern. "...Cress. Hey..."
Cressida abruptly turned away from Jasper as she took a deep breath. "I know you care, Jasper. And I appreciate that, but you need to be there for your own family now. Your priorities have to change."
"Cress, you are my family."
Cressida's frustration reached a breaking point and she turned back to Jasper, her eyes flashing. "You have a wife! You have a baby coming! You have responsibilities; you're the crown prince of Eflia, and you need to take the rest of our people home. You know, the ones who have been Ashlar's hostages for months?"
"I-I will, Cress. But-"
"You coming here was a mistake!"
The room plunged into an intense silence.
Callidus stared wide-eyed at Cressida, and Jasper, momentarily rendered thunderstruck, stammered in response. "...whoa, Cress. I...I'm sorry. I thought you'd be happy to see me."
Cressida's eyes welled up with tears.
"...I thought I would be, too."
Jasper appeared hurt and bewildered. He attempted to speak, but the words seemed to escape him. He cast a furtive glance between his sister and the solemn figure of Callidus.
Cressida, wiping away tears with the back of her hand, took a shaky breath. "I should... I should leave you to get some rest, Jasper. We can...we can talk tomorrow."
Jasper's eyes were downcast and he mumbled, "I...yeah...alright. If that's what you want, Cress."
Cressida turned to Callidus, her hand outstretched in a silent invitation. Without a word, Callidus rushed forward to help her from the bed.
"Love you, Cress," Jasper murmured.
Cressida's eyes softened at her brother's words, and she offered him a weak smile. "I love you, too, Yapper. Please sleep well and get better."
As Callidus led Cressida through the door, he cast a final glance at Jasper, frozen on the bed, staring after his sister with confused, mismatched eyes.
In an instant the lantern was extinguished, and the bedchamber was cast into darkness.
Once in the main room of the Sapphire Suite, Cressida let out a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling with a complicated expression. Callidus chose to remain silent, attentively observing her.
"...can we go out to your garden, Callidus?"
Callidus hesitated, his eyes darting to the window. "It's... unkempt right now, my love."
"Perfect."
The two of them moved through the darkened suite, navigating the once familiar space with unfamiliar tension.
Outside, the almost autumn air carried a chill as a natural breeze whispered through the wild array of tangled vines and overgrown flowers. Moonlight splashed like liquid silver over the garden, casting long shadows that danced with the rustling leaves, peeking through the cracks of gathering storm clouds.
Callidus stole glances at Cressida, noting the strange detachment etched on her face, and he swept a warm wind around them, seeking to alleviate the goosebumps that prickled her visible skin.
There was a rumble of thunder, and Callidus could feel an electric charge in the air, but he had the feeling that any suggestion to return indoors would fall on deaf ears. She wandered slightly away from him, her hand slipping from its customary position on his forearm, to fall at her side, though her fingers remained mindlessly wrapped around his. It was an intimate feeling, walking the garden while holding her hand. Not a gentleman escorting a lady, but something closer. Familial.
At the sight of his abandoned marigolds, zinnias, and dying snapdragons, Callidus winced, his entire body tensing in displeasure. Cressida, however, seemed unfazed by the disarray. Her hold on his hand felt like an afterthought, yet it tugged him along as she wandered aimlessly.
Halting abruptly at a cluster of long-stemmed marigolds, Cressida bent down without a word, her hand releasing his to pluck a flower. Callidus shifted uncomfortably as she went from twirling the flower to methodically tearing apart the petals, each motion a deliberate act of destruction. Distant lightning flashes intermittently illuminated her face as she reached for another marigold, petals littering the leaf-strewn path like drops of fire.
Without prompting, Cressida addressed his unspoken question. "Ferox once plucked all the petals from the flowers in my garden. I had forgotten about it until I read that old letter." She continued her quiet ritual, a mix of nostalgia and an indiscernible emotion accompanying each flower's demise. "He only stopped after Jasper found us and threatened to punch him for making me cry. My garden was never the same after that."
Cressida stood up, cradling the headless stems of several marigolds in her hands. After a contemplative moment, she extended her hand towards Callidus, offering them to him. "Here," she said, her tone carrying a strange nuance. "A bouquet."
He accepted the gift without hesitation, though a pained thought lingered in his mind.
His first bouquet was composed of the destroyed remnants of a memory of Ferox.
Cressida extended her empty hand, and he awkwardly transferred the stem bouquet to his other hand, slipping his fingers back into hers as they continued their stroll.
"Did you get upset when I told Jasper I loved him?"
"Yes, Cressida," he admitted, his voice low. "However, I am not going to act on it."
"That night...when you forced me to act out that memory crystal, it tainted the phrase. Just now, when I told my brother I loved him, it felt insincere."
Callidus winced.
The admission hung heavily in the air, unresolved.
As they strolled through the overgrown garden, Cressida occasionally stopped to pluck a flower. She would systematically remove each petal, her actions slow and serene, and then hand the stripped flower to Callidus. The stems in his hand multiplied; some thick and woody, others slim and smooth, and some as thin as eyelid skin.
Callidus didn't know what this meant in the Eflian language of flowers.
Perhaps it had no meaning.
As they reached the bottlebrush tree, its branches casting intricate patterns on the ground, Cressida stopped, her gaze fixed on the place where they had once shared a dance. The memories replayed, bittersweet in Callidus's mind as he stole glances at Cressida, his concern growing.
After a while, she said, "I feel lonely, Callidus."
His response was a stunned silence. He shifted uneasily, grappling with the uncertainty of how to address her revelation. "Is it... because you want a baby?" he tentatively asked.
Cressida abruptly laughed. "A baby? Where did that come from?"
"I thought... when you heard about Jasper's baby..."
She stared at him, a sardonic glint in her eyes, "Do you even know how to give me a baby, Callidus?"
Callidus stumbled over his words. "I... well, I...I'm sure we can figure it out together."
Cressida laughed again, and she slipped away from him. He felt the emptiness in the space where her hand had been, his fingers clutching the chilled air. She took measured steps into the grass, her attention fixed on the fluffy red flowers of the bottlebrush tree.
"I feel like I'm in a dream. Like none of this is real."
He stood there, a silent and powerless observer as storm clouds rumbled around her.
"Seeing Jasper in the same room where I spent months confined, hearing him speak of home, old friends, our dogs, the familiar troubles with the castle... it all felt so distant. I can picture everything, but it's like characters from a story. And it feels like I don't belong in it."
The stems felt frigid against his palm as a wild breeze whispered through the garden, whipping her muted marigold hair, and carrying an early morning chill and the promise of rain.
"Isn't this what you wanted, Callidus?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "For me to feel so helpless, I'd have no choice but to depend on you?"
"...at one time, yes," he confessed in a stunted voice. "But I've...come to realize I...may not be strong enough for you to depend on."
Cressida turned to look at him, surprise slicing through her growing detachment.
"To survive, I've always been who I needed to be," he continued in a low voice. "But for you...I...I find myself... incapable of being who you need me to be."
Cressida studied him in the dim moonlight, her expression unreadable. The tension between them thickened and Callidus couldn't tell whether the revelation had brought them closer or pushed them further apart.
After what felt like an eternity, Cressida's lips quivered, and a strange sound escaped her - a mixture of a strangled laugh and a suppressed sob. Callidus felt a tightening in his chest, a visceral response to the raw vulnerability in her expression.
"So, what?" she choked, "Are you going to abandon me, too?"
The word 'abandon' echoed through Callidus's mind. Panic surged within him, his eyes widening in disbelief and desperation.
"No, Cressida," he finally managed. "Never. I could never. Never. Am I not your unyielding Circumstance? My love, I've spilled blood for you, given you my heart and future. Abandoning you is unthinkable. I'd...I'd chain myself to you. Willingly. Gladly."
The air wrapped around her, weaving tethers of anxious breezes around her wrists.
"I...I can," he insisted. "Do you want me to?"
Cressida's breath caught at the desperation in Callidus's words. A stifled laugh, tinged with mania, escaped her throat. "You're insane," she rasped, her gaze dropping to the unseen tethers encircling her body.
"Do you want me to?" he repeated, enveloping the air around his own wrists. A sensation he hadn't felt since his father had freed him from Windridge. As he reached for Cressida, as if to offer her the bouquet of stems, the invisible connection tugged on her arm.
"You're insane," she echoed, the conviction waning, as if she were on the brink of considering the unimaginable.
Experimentally, Cressida's hand rose, fingers reaching toward the heavens. The tension in the air grew tangible as the invisible tether responded, lifting Callidus's arm in tandem.
Cressida's gaze locked onto his.
A nearby lightning flash illuminated the garden, casting long shadows that danced around them. Callidus sensed the strain through their tethered connection, felt her hand tremble as she held it aloft, and could nearly taste the quickening of her breath.
Thunder roared, and then died.
And in the aftermath of silence, Cressida whispered, "No... let go, Callidus."
The invisible tethers loosened, releasing the captive air, and allowing it to dissipate into the night. Callidus's eyes never left her even as she turned her head to look back up at the bottlebrush tree.
"Cressida..." he implored. "What do you want?"
Cressida remained silent, her eyes fixed on the tree, the leaves rustling with a soft breeze. When she finally spoke, her voice was a fragile echo in the quiet garden.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I thought I wanted freedom, but I feel so adrift right now that even being tethered sounds nice."
The air swirled in response, more than willing to re-establish their connection.
"I thought I wanted the truth, but you were right. It only revealed things I didn't want to know. I thought I wanted to see my people, but the cheers in the prison felt foreign, the faces unfamiliar. I thought I wanted to go back home, but it wouldn't be the same." She paused before letting out an anguished breath. "Actually, it sounds eerily the same. I saw my old self reflected in Jasper's eyes, and I didn't recognize it." She sighed again, shaking her head. "...how could you do that to his eye, Callidus?"
Callidus shifted uneasily as she continued.
"I just want to go back to when my biggest tragedy was a boy ruining some flowers. Or Cilla stealing my honey tarts. To when I had a brother who knew me so well, he could read my mind, loyal friends who would never leave me, and a family that would stop at nothing to bring me back home. Everything is different now, and I...don't belong anywhere."
"You belong with me," he softly ventured, uncertain of whether the words would bring comfort or further unrest.
"Do I, Callidus? Or do I belong to you?"
"Both. As I belong to you. I want to provide for you, to give you what you wish. Be it honesty or a tether."
"You're giving me honesty tonight, but what about tomorrow? What about a week from now, a year from now? What about when honesty is no longer convenient for you? When it's no longer a grand, romantic gesture? What if my wants clash with yours?"
Callidus drew in a breath, taking in the scent of impending rain that saturated the air. "I still want to know."
A charged pause enveloped them, laiden with anticipation, before she spoke again. Her words unfurled deliberately; each syllable measured.
"What if I want a life without you?"
The weight of her words landed like a physical blow, the pain visibly etching across his features. He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering with regret and anguish.
"That's the one thing I cannot give you. If that's truly your desire, I deeply, truly apologize, but I cannot grant it."
"I thought you said love is sacrifice, Callidus."
Callidus flinched from the sting of truth embedded in her taunt. "Love is sacrifice, Cressida, but it's also loyalty. Devotion. I can sacrifice anything for you, but not the very essence of what we share. I won't give up on us. I won't let go of the hope that, in time, we'll find a way to align our desires, to build a life together."
"You want to build a life together, but a life with what? A life with who? Without my family, without my friends, I don't feel like anyone, Callidus."
Cressida suddenly jerked her head to face him, her eyes searching his for understanding.
"Do you know why you're incapable of being what I need?"
Callidus silently met her gaze, awaiting her revelation.
"It's because I need community. I need family. And you've kept me from them."
A heavy tension hung in the air as Cressida began to list names with a sharp click of her tongue, "Jasper, Cilla, my parents, Quail." She paused meaningfully before continuing, "Ostara, Wori, Eamon..." The unfamiliar names of all twenty-eight Eflian prisoners echoed in the quiet garden before she uttered the name that cut deepest. "Ferox."
Callidus's expression tightened.
"...Cressida...about...Ferox. I-"
But she silenced him with a sharp glare. "You've hurt everyone in my life. Everyone I care about. It's as if you think as long as you don't hurt me, it justifies all the harm you've done to others. But don't you understand? I don't care about myself! I care about them. My people. My friends. My family!" Cressida's voice grew hoarse as she continued, "Love is not just sweet words, Callidus. It's not about kisses and sleeping in the same bed. It's about understanding and respecting what matters to the other person."
She gestured at the stem bouquet in his hand. "You've torn me from my roots and expected me to bloom in foreign soil. You can't claim to love me while disregarding everything that's important to me."
Callidus absorbed her words, each one piercing him with a reality he had been reluctant to confront.
"Do you understand, Callidus?" she whispered, her gaze fixed on his. "Can you even understand, or are you too far gone?"
A somber silence settled in the garden, broken only by the encroaching rumble of thunder.
"I..." Callidus began, his voice thick with emotion. "I do understand, Cressida. I've always known what you've cared about. I love you more than anything. But I...suppose I..."
He paused, and then the truth struck him.
"...love our relationship more."
As the words escaped his lips, lightning struck with a blinding flash, illuminating the garden in stark relief. A deafening crack of thunder followed, rattling the ground beneath their feet. In the blinding afterglow of the lightning, Cressida appeared distant, as if he were viewing her through a deeply fractured memory crystal.
Rain-scented wind whispered promises of release but held back, as if nature itself stopped to listen.
"I... I love our relationship more," he repeated.
The admission tasted like a betrayal.
A cascade of emotions surged through Callidus as the depth of the self-revelation gnawed at the core of his identity, leaving him exposed to the reality that his seemingly unshakable commitment was, in fact, hollow.
Cressida's gaze softened, a complex mix of emotions playing across her features - a blend of sadness, understanding, and, strangely, a sense of relief.
"...you are being honest tonight," she whispered.
The wind picked up.
And he couldn't tell whether he was controlling it.
Callidus struggled to find the right words as the winds howled around him. The sting of tears and the scent of rain-saturated air enveloped him, heavy and haunting.
"I... I didn't mean to say that" Callidus stammered. "I can't mean that. I've always loved you more than anything else. Our future together. Our..."
Before he could finish, Cressida echoed his words, completing the sentence, "Our future together."
Callidus grimaced, the weight of his own words slapping him.
He loved their future together.
More than Cressida herself.
"Cressida, I love you. I've lived for our future together," he finally confessed, his voice strained. "I've lived for a life with you. I...how can that be a bad thing? Isn't it a good thing to want so much to be with you?"
"Callidus, how many more memory crystals do you have of us? Of moments that haven't happened yet?"
Callidus blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "...just one. The vision of our wedding."
"So, what happens after that?"
"We live happily married forever."
"But you don't know that."
Callidus felt a sudden lump in his chest.
In his throat.
In his gut.
"I...don't know what happens after our wedding," he admitted, his voice more subdued. "I've always believed in the vision, in our eternal happiness. But you're right, I don't know for certain."
"So, this certain future that you've lived for. Callidus, it already happened." She paused, letting a roar of thunder settle before she finished, "You've already lived it.
Cressida's words echoed in Callidus's mind, a dark realization settling over him.
And then striking him with a force that left him gasping for breath. He had dedicated his life to a future that, in reality, had already unfolded.
"I've already lived it..." he echoed.
Callidus's breath quickened, and the panic he had held at bay began to claw its way to the surface. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of an abyss, a precipice he hadn't realized existed until now.
If all the cherished moments he had looked forward to already occurred...
Then what was left?
"Callidus, do you truly love me? Or the idea of a future where you're never alone?"
"I love you, Cressida," he replied automatically over his thundering heart. "And b-because of I love you, I love the idea of our future. Of...of you loving me."
"Callidus, do I love you?"
Callidus froze.
She asked, even softer, "In this future, will I love you?"
Callidus's eyes searched Cressida's face for any sign, any confirmation of what he desperately wanted most.
He couldn't answer.
(He knew the answer.)
"...will you?" he managed to ask.
The weight of the question lingered heavily between them, and the ensuing silence felt like it stretched into an eternity. It was too dark to see her face now, but he could almost feel her draw in a breath, slow, sad, and purposeful.
Finally, she replied, but in the form of another question. Her voice was sincere, devoid of any hint of mockery or resentment.
"With everything you've done, how can I?"
Callidus felt cold.
"...Cressida, I...I know you don't love me," he admitted, the words escaping him with a trembling breath. "But I hoped that one day you-"
His gaze flickered from Cressida to the headless stems in his hand. They were shaking.
"I've never questioned my love for you," he said instead. "I thought my love could be enough for both of us. And, despite our differences, I've never questioned our future happiness. I've never questioned our-"
(He'd already lived it.)
The tightening knot in his chest became suffocating, and the panic gnawed at the edges of his consciousness like a relentless predator. The air, heavy with humidity, distanced itself from him, thinning around him, mocking the stability he always sought.
"I never questioned our-" he repeated, the words catching in his throat.
True fear seized him.
The air felt shallow, elusive, slipping through his fingers like water.
Like Cressida.
"I've given you my heart, my future," he uttered between gasps. "Your love for me was a lie, yes but our...I... what if it was all a lie? What if I am too far gone?"
"Callidus?"
His eyes, wide with terror, found hers, and he struggled to regain control. His breaths were labored, his magic resisting his attempts to draw it into his lungs.
Tears clouded his vision.
"What if I'm incapable of loving you?"
Cressida called out his name in alarm, but he could hardly hear her. He felt her fingers briefly graze his arm but then she hissed, withdrawing as if burned.
Everything was cold, and he fought to draw in each frigid breath.
Her voice came to him muffled.
"Callidus, breathe!"
But the air resisted, purposefully punishing him.
Rain-laden clouds amassed overhead, though only a few sporadic drops graced the ground. Tears blended with the hesitant raindrops, carving wet trails down his cheeks. (He hated rain.)
"What if it was all a lie?" he gasped. "What if I've been lying to myself? What if I'm unable to love you?" His self-loathing, a constant companion, now emerged with a fierce intensity. "What if our future is nothing? What if we...? C-cressida..."
"Callidus, breathe!"
The air retreated from him, growing thinner with each attempted breath.
"I can't," Callidus wheezed.
Callidus's vision blurred, his surroundings becoming a distorted mess of moonlit shadows and rain-laden clouds. He sank to his knees, his hands clutching at the wet grass. Every heartbeat felt like a relentless hammer striking against his ribs, and he thought back to his failed proposal in the Golden courtyard, the moment he had learned her acceptance had been a lie.
Cressida's voice, a distant echo through the haze, continued to plead with him. "Callidus, you're scaring me!"
The air seemed to relent slightly in the face of Cressida's plea.
"I've always hated myself," he confessed, his voice strained as he pulled a breath of air from around her. "But I've always loved you. I thought through loving you, I could find worth. But maybe I've never known how. I've never known love. I've..."
The rain began to fall in earnest, the cool droplets mingling with Callidus's tears.
"...never known love."
Cressida's presence registered as a gentle breeze amid the desolation that enveloped Callidus and a fragile pocket of air lingered around her, as if holding its breath.
"Callidus...You need to breathe. Please, for me?"
The air, which had abandoned him, now clung to her.
"I always have," he gasped in a stolen breath.
Through reddened eyes, Callidus saw Cressida reach out for him, but her fingers froze a hand's width from his face. The raindrops, which had initially mingled with his tears, now avoided him entirely. The world outside seemed distant, obscured by the strange physical divide created by the thinning air.
"Callidus, please..." she whispered, her eyes filled with worry. "It's alright. Everything's alright..."
Cressida's voice echoed with desperation as she called out to Callidus, her outstretched fingers suspended. The barrier between them seemed to respond only to her presence, gently caressing her as if offering comfort – or distraction.
"Callidus! Answer me!"
He struggled to respond, his breaths growing shallower. The air retreated further, leaving him in a vacuum, gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. He felt the cold, wet grass beneath his knees, the water soaking through his clothes, and the weight of his own weakness bearing down on him.
He became acutely aware of the untamed air around her. He could feel the wisps of her marigold hair, the delicate curve of her cheek, and the frantic pattern of her breaths in and out of her beautiful lungs.
"Callidus! You're hurting yourself. Please...!"
In the midst of Cressida's desperate pleas, Callidus found his mind wandering to the garden that surrounded them - the sanctuary he had meticulously nurtured for years, anticipating her arrival. Every flower, every leaf, held the promise of a shared future, held a piece of his devotion to her. Callidus recalled standing at the window in Windridge Tower as a child, watching the same garden below, his mother a distant figure behind him.
"Callidus, I thought you were my Unyielding Circumstance! I thought you wouldn't abandon me!" Cressida's words echoed through the vanishing air, a painful reminder of his actual role in her life.
As his vision faded, he sought refuge in the memories of dancing with Cressida.
He imagined that their dance never ended.
Their dance led them beyond the confines of the garden, toward the jacaranda tree, towards Eflia, to Springtide.
She was singing.
She was smiling.
As Callidus sank further into the abyss of his own mind, Cressida's desperate pleas became a distant hum, a part of the musical strain. He danced with Cressida on petal strewn paths, becoming aware of the other dancers around them. Faces beamed with approval, admiring the strength of their love. Yarrow flowers cascaded through the air, creating a breathtaking display of white and yellow petals.
Cressida's voice, a comforting tune, surrounded him.
"Callidus! You need to breathe!"
Feeling a gentle pull and a yearning for air, Callidus found himself momentarily pausing their dance. However, Cressida, swift and determined, thwarted his attempt to breathe by pulling him close and kissing him senselessly.
"Callidus!" she called, despite her lips being occupied. "Breathe!"
A most wonderful asphyxiation.
"Callidus, breathe. Callidus, please! Breathe for me!"
With each repetition, her voice carried an undeniable authority, cutting through his dreamy haze.
"Breathe!" she repeated, the invisible threads of her influence becoming more pronounced. "Come on, please!"
He sucked in a deep breath, the chill of raindrops on his teeth serving as a grounding sensation. The air, once elusive and taunting, now willingly filled his lungs at Cressida's command.
"In! Out! Breathe!"
Cressida's urgent orders punctuated the air, each word a lifeline pulling Callidus further away from the edge of unconsciousness. The vivid imagery of the dance and the foreign flowers and Cressida's suffocating kiss retreated, replaced by the tangible reality of icy hands on his face and the persistent taste of raindrops on his tongue.
Cressida's voice, once a distant hum, now held a clarity and urgency that tethered him to reality.
"Breathe, Callidus. You're here with me. In! Out! That's it!"
It dawned on Callidus that he was cradled in Cressida's lap, the wet grass seeping into every part of his body not pressed against her. He lay there, damp and disoriented, his eyes gazing blearily into the dribbling rain.
"In! Out! Good, Callidus," Cressida encouraged in an achingly kind voice. "You're safe. You're here. In. Out."
Callidus followed her instructions, the ritual grounding him in the present moment. The disorientation began to fade, replaced by a quiet surrender to the helplessness that had overtaken him.
"I'm here. We're here, Callidus. Together."
She lightly rocked him in her lap, stroking his cheek with her thumb.
As Callidus blinked up at her, he couldn't hold back the question that emerged in a hoarse rasp, "Why did you stay?"
Cressida's hands paused in their comforting motions as she looked down at Callidus with a mix of concern and understanding. "Why?" she echoed. Then, with a heartbreaking sigh, she leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead instead of answering.
He stole that sigh, letting it fill his lungs with that strange unspoken emotion.
It wasn't love.
But perhaps it was close to it.
(Perhaps the word didn't matter.)