Aelric hummed a light tune as he floated down the hallway, his wings giving soft, rhythmic flutters to keep him steady. He should've been feeling lighter after spending time at Theron's bedside—watching over his friend had given him a sense of purpose—but the heavy cloud of worry still lingered. Theron's tears had shaken their entire group to its core. He was their steady rock, their unshakable constant. Seeing him break down like that? It was like watching the sun forget how to rise.
When it had been Aelric's turn to keep vigil, he'd whispered an assortment of nonsensical fairy blessings under his breath, drawing intricate sigils in the air with his fingers. They weren't particularly useful—he wasn't even sure if he'd done them correctly—but they gave him something to do besides sit there feeling helpless.
Now, with Lirien on watch duty, Aelric was free to indulge in his other pressing concern: Bronn.
More specifically, Bronn's increasingly suspicious behavior.
For the past week, the vampire had been acting strange. Stranger than usual, which was saying something. He'd started coming up with the flimsiest excuses to keep Aelric out of his room. "I'm reorganizing," he'd muttered one day, as though vampires even owned enough to need reorganizing. "I'm working on something personal," he'd said another time, his tone brooding and mysterious, which only made Aelric more curious.
The fairy's curiosity was a beast of its own, and Bronn's behavior had only made it hungrier. If Bronn thought Aelric was just going to let this slide, he clearly hadn't been paying attention during the years of their friendship.
"Privacy, my wings," Aelric muttered under his breath as he approached the door. "You'd think he was harboring a secret society in there."
With the stealth of a seasoned troublemaker, Aelric picked the lock—he didn't need to, but it felt more dramatic—and pushed the door open.
At first glance, everything seemed normal. The room was its usual dark, gothic self. The faint sandalwood scent Bronn insisted on clung to the air like a comforting hug. The bookshelves were perfectly aligned, and the bed—Aelric's favorite feature—was made so neatly it could've been featured in a catalog.
But Bronn wasn't there.
What was there, however, made Aelric freeze mid-step.
Sitting cross-legged on the edge of Bronn's bed was a woman.
She was mesmerizing, the kind of beautiful that seemed to warp the air around her. Her pale skin glowed faintly in the dim light, giving her an ethereal quality, while waves of raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders like liquid night. Crimson eyes, as bright as polished rubies, sparkled with amusement as they locked onto his. She wore a fitted, midnight-black dress that shimmered faintly in the light, the intricate lace sleeves giving her an air of elegance. Around her neck hung a crescent moon pendant that gleamed with an almost hypnotic allure.
Aelric's jaw dropped, his wings giving an involuntary flutter. "You're a woman?"
She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Last I checked."
Aelric turned and inspected the door, muttering to himself. "I must've walked into the wrong room."
He stepped out, looked at the door again—Bronn's room, definitely Bronn's room—then stepped back inside. His sharp eyes narrowed as he pointed at her accusingly. "Wait. Are you real, or did I accidentally inhale some bad fairy dust again?"
The woman chuckled, her voice low and melodic. "I assure you, I'm very real."
Aelric crossed his arms, his wings flaring slightly. "Okay, so, this is Bronn's room. Tall, broody guy? Drinks blood like it's a fine wine? Wears more black cloaks than a vampire fashion catalog?"
She smirked, her crimson eyes sparkling. "That would be Bronn, yes."
"Then who are you?" Aelric demanded. "And why are you sitting on his bed? Do you know how sacred that spot is? I've had to fight for that bed."
She leaned back slightly, her smirk widening. "I'm his fiancée."
Aelric froze, his mind screeching to a halt. "Fiancée?" His voice cracked on the word. He cleared his throat and tried again, though it didn't sound much better. "That's impossible. Bronn doesn't do relationships. He barely even does friendships."
She laughed, the sound like silk brushing against glass. "He's always been secretive, hasn't he? Did he ever tell you about his family?"
Aelric blinked. His family? He racked his brain, trying to recall anything Bronn had said about his family. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and his chest tightened. "You know about his family?"
"Of course," she replied smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm his fiancée. I know everything about him."
The word "fiancée" echoed in Aelric's head like a mocking chant, each syllable hitting harder than the last. It felt like a dagger twisting in his chest, leaving behind a bitterness he couldn't quite explain. Why did it feel so… wrong?
He hated the word. Hated how casually it had been thrown out, as if it wasn't earth-shattering news. Hated the fact that Bronn—his best friend, his partner-in-chaos—had kept something so monumental from him. But what he hated most, what truly made his chest tighten and his wings quiver, was the engagement itself.
Bronn was engaged. To someone Aelric had never even heard of. Someone who had apparently been important enough to claim a piece of Bronn's heart. The thought made his stomach churn, his mind spiraling into questions he didn't want to answer.
Why hadn't Bronn told him? Wasn't he supposed to know everything about his best friend? They'd spent years side by side, sharing secrets, plans, and mischief. How could something this significant slip through the cracks? And worse, why did it feel like Bronn had betrayed him by not telling him?
He didn't even realize the tears had started until the cool trails tickled his cheeks, and even then, he didn't understand why they wouldn't stop. His wings drooped, trembling slightly as the emotions he couldn't name—frustration, confusion, and something sharper, more personal—poured out in quiet sobs.
Aelric quickly brushed at his face with the back of his hand, his movements sharp and agitated. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He didn't cry. Not over Bronn, and definitely not over something as ridiculous as this. But the tightness in his chest refused to ease, the bitter ache growing with every passing second.
"What's wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking.
The door creaked open, and Bronn stepped inside, his usual brooding calm giving way to startled confusion as his sharp eyes took in the scene. Aelric stood in the middle of the room, his wings drooping, his fists clenched at his sides, and his cheeks suspiciously damp. He looked agitated, almost as if he were ready to launch into one of his dramatic tirades—or perhaps crumple into a puddle of fairy tears.
Bronn's gaze snapped to Helena, who was perched on his bed, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Helena," he said, his voice low and edged with warning. "What did you do to him?"
Helena's crimson eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned back, her fingers idly toying with the pendant around her neck. "Me?" she said innocently, though her smirk betrayed her. "I didn't do anything. Your little fairy friend here seems to be having a bit of a… moment."
Bronn frowned, stepping closer to Aelric. "Aelric, what's going on? Why do you look like you're about to combust?"
Aelric's head snapped up, his face a mixture of anger and heartbreak as he glared at Bronn through tear-glazed eyes. He jabbed a finger toward the vampire, his voice trembling with barely contained emotion. "You!" he spat. "You were engaged?"
Bronn froze, his brows knitting together in confusion. "Engaged?" he echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. He shot a sharp look at Helena. "What did you tell him?"
Helena raised her hands in mock surrender, her smirk widening. "Only the truth, darling. I am your fiancée, after all."
Aelric let out a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, his wings fluttering erratically. "Fiancée? You're just going to stand there and let her say that? No denial? No explanation? Nothing?"
Bronn's jaw tightened as he looked between the two of them, his expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. "Helena," he growled, his tone icy, "stop messing with him."
Helena tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Messing with him? I'd never dream of it."
"You—!" Aelric sputtered, his voice breaking. "You never told me about her! About any of this! I thought we were friends, Bronn. Best friends! And now I find out you've been keeping this—" he gestured wildly at Helena, "—from me?"
Bronn pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. "Aelric," he said slowly, as if trying to calm a skittish animal, "it's not what you think."
"Oh, really?" Aelric snapped, his voice cracking. "Then what is it, Bronn? Because right now, it looks like you've been hiding a whole fiancée from me, and I'm just supposed to be okay with that?"
Helena, clearly enjoying the chaos, propped her chin on her hand and grinned. "You two are adorable," she said lightly. "Like an old married couple."
"Helena, not helping," Bronn snapped, his tone sharp.