The fire crackled in Mira’s chamber, soft and slow, the light casting amber across the stone floor. It was the first moment in days where she felt the weight lift, if only slightly. No royal titles. No war drums. Just the sound of breath, the warmth of fire, and Thorne.
He sat across from her on the thick rug, sleeves rolled up, a faint shadow under his eyes. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze held a careful intensity. They had removed their armor tonight—not the kind forged in steel, but the kind that clung tighter: silence, duty, shame.
“No heat,” Mira said quietly, sipping from her cup.
“No bond magic.” Thorne smirked. “Just truth.”
She looked over at him. “Do you think we ever would’ve found this if we hadn’t been broken first?”
“I think the cracks are what let us see each other.”
They both laughed, quiet and tired.
“I used to think the quiet meant I was alone,” Mira said. “Now, I think it just means I’m finally safe.”
Thorne nodded. “I remember exile being cold. The kind of cold that sits in your bones. But then I met you—and everything burned.”
She didn’t look away. “You hated me at first.”
“I didn’t know you. I thought you were just another burden. Then you spoke... and you weren’t.”
They paused, letting the quiet fill again, not with tension, but with memory.
“The twins,” Mira murmured. “You were there when they opened their eyes.”
“I was afraid to hold them,” Thorne admitted. “They were so small. I didn’t want to break them.”
“They would’ve broken you first,” she teased. “I think they did.”
Mira shifted closer, her knees touching his. “You taught them how to fight.”
“And you taught them how to feel.”
“They still ask about you. Rowen tries to sharpen sticks the way you showed him.”
“I’ll show him again.”
“I was never supposed to be a mother,” Mira said, voice cracking. “And then they made me into one. And you... you made me feel like I could be a good one.”
“You are the best mother,” he said.
She shook her head. “Some nights, I just held them and cried. I didn’t know if we’d survive. I didn’t know how to keep them fed, warm—alive.”
“I remember the look in your eyes. You never stopped moving, even when your body begged you to collapse.”
Mira looked into the fire. “No one ever chose me. Not really.”
Thorne’s hand reached out and took hers.
“I choose you,” he said.
She blinked fast. “I never wanted power. I just wanted to be seen and heard.”
Thorne leaned closer. “Then rule because you choose to, not because you were born for it.”
Her breath hitched. “You always say things like that—words that sound like they were meant for my soul.”
“I’ve only ever spoken the truth to you.”
“I was so scared I’d be alone again,” she whispered. “I was scared you’d choose to be.”
She studied his face. “You came back when you didn’t have to.”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
“You’ve seen the worst of me,” she said. “And still, you’re here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I thought I’d buried this part of me,” she whispered. “The part that I hoped for. The part that I wanted.”
Thorne shook his head. “Hope didn’t die. It just waited.”
She looked down at their hands, then lifted his palm and kissed it gently. He froze at the touch, breath catching, but didn’t move.
She turned his hand and placed it flat over his chest. Then she slid hers over his heart.
“Stay with me,” she said softly.
His voice was rough but steady. “Always.”