[private] sunrise never waits

[Rhaegor]

By the time she approached, her echoes had quieted. This alone made her presence bearable. Her hoofsteps brought a gust of wintery wind with her -- though other parts of Beqanna had turned its face towards the sunlight of spring, the Cove seemed trapped in a perpetual winter. This fact troubled Rhae more than the chestnut mare across from him. It wasn't like this when we lived here.

He missed the we. Warlight. Sviko. Mothers. The serenity and innocence of youth. All gone.

The residue of this mare's empathy (so linked to what felt lost to him) reminded him more of her presence than the sound of her hoofsteps. Than the silence of her arrival next to him.

His head jerked up at her words.

I don't know what you're talking about. These words spat from his mind to hers before she managed to find his eyes; the genuinity he found in the sapphire depths of Lilliana's gaze only made him more defensive. He resented her willingness. Her naivety. Here serenity and innocence. Wanted it. Would kill for it. Didn't know how to have it back.

I--
Nothing good will come of this. Run, run, run, run --

Rhaegor's head flung back, ears pinned, his eyes ignited in pain. The part of himself who hated her for seeing his wounds so fresh and for caring (the others hadn't cared!) cried, pushed him to extend his wings and to lunge towards her.

If you want to run so badly then why don't you! Go! Run!

But maybe, just maybe, if she stayed, Lilliana would notice that Rhaegor's lunge ended short. That the fire in him died out just when he ought to have burned her.

.