#this whole thread feels like an actual fever dream tbh hgfd

[wintervsuns]

♞

brandon leaned back, his hand slipping from the arm of her chair as if he’d touched something he shouldn’t. and suddenly he saw it all unraveling before him; tangled with her in his chambers, the heights of passion that meant nothing, just an end goal. a fleeting ecstasy, and then what came afterward. he all but felt his own excitement ease, burn, die out. the fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth failing to thaw the cold knot tightening in his chest. ayca’s words lingered in the air, her teasing challenge like a siren’s song, but something inside him shifted. it wasn’t excitement anymore—it was guilt, creeping in like the shadow of a storm.

he exhaled slowly, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. for so many years he had been determined in not drowning any of his stresses or sorrows in the company of women; knowing all too well from men on the battlefield of the hole it never filled.

“aye,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “ye’ve a way about ye, lady mallister. sharp as steel, and twice as deadly, i reckon. but not all fights need fightin’, aye? and not all games are worth the play.”

he glanced away, his gaze landing on the flickering firelight dancing across the stone walls. the whiskey in his veins dulled the edges of his grief, but it couldn’t erase it. no amount of drink or soft words ever could. and he knew, deep down, that what he was doing here—what he was almost doing—wasn’t the answer to the ache that sat heavy in his chest. “when things changed for me..” his voice caught, rough like gravel underfoot, and he paused, swallowing hard before continuing, “i told meself i’d not drown in it. not let it pull me under, aye? and i’ve kept to that, best i could. but this...” he gestured vaguely between them, the flicker of her smirk still pulling at the edges of his thoughts. it took every inch of self “this ain’t how i face what’s left of me life, lass.”

he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his broad shoulders bowing under the weight of his own words. “yer clever, m'lady. beautiful. too beautiful, maybe. ye’ve a spark that could set a man aflame if he’s not careful.” his lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. “but a man burnin’ don’t leave much behind but ashes. and i’ve had me fill of ashes for this life, lass.” brandon straightened, his voice steadier now, more resolute. “ye’ll forgive me if i pull back, aye? this game—this chase—ain’t one for me." he pushed his chair back, the scrape of wood against stone cutting through the quiet tension that hung between them. his gaze softened, though his resolve did not waver.

“ye’ll find yer match, i’ve no doubt. but that man... he ain’t sittin’ here tonight.”

ayca's lips curled into a smirk as she leaned back further in her chair, her eyes never leaving his as she studied the way he moved, the raw edge in his voice. the firelight cast shadows across his features, but it was the tension between them, palpable and thick, that seemed to make the room smaller. she let his words settle before responding, her voice still laced with challenge but a softer edge creeping into it.

"prey?" she echoed, her dark eyes narrowing, flicking briefly to where his hand grasped the arm of her chair, pulling her just a little closer. "perhaps it’s not so simple, my lord."

she took a slow sip from her goblet, letting the warmth of the whiskey settle in her chest as she tilted her head slightly. the pull in the air between them was undeniable, her lips softened at the edges, the challenge still present, but tinged with something else. a slow burn.

“you’re right, of course,” she continued, her voice low now, carrying a sharpness beneath it. “when you stop hunting, you’re left only with the waiting. but not all wolves are born to chase. some of us find the thrill in knowing when to let the chase come to us.” she leaned forward then, her eyes catching his in a moment of silent understanding, a quiet dare.

her hand slid across the arm of her chair, fingers brushing against his wrist before she pulled away, just enough to make him wonder. "but you, my lord, do seem to have a knack for bringing the chase to your feet." her tone held a playful lilt now, but there was something more in her gaze, something far less playful, and far more dangerous.

yet, he had said it so simply, so bluntly, that it almost disarmed her. the northern lord’s words echoed in her ears, each one sinking deeper into her mind, and despite the flicker of doubt that threatened to rise, something within her urged her to embrace the pull of the moment, and the deepening desire in the pit of her stomach.

with a small but telling smile, she finally spoke, her voice soft yet edged with a subtle challenge. “then tell me where to go, my lord,” she murmured, her words slow and deliberate. "following you is not part of the tale, but i'm rather good with direction, and discretion, as i imagine you are."

her gaze remained fixed on him, unflinching but with an undercurrent of something more. the room felt suddenly smaller, the space between them charged with anticipation, as if the next few moments would decide more than just the course of the evening.