I hope we both die

Bargaining (Part One)

Foeslayer

Arctic doesn't sleep beside me anymore. He's piled up blankets from the guest room by my window instead. It makes me nervous–like he could run away in the middle of the night, and I'd never know.

But I don't risk upsetting him. He's already going through enough. I bite my tongue, and I bring him tea in the morning, gently waking him up.

"Arctic?" I say softly. "I have tea." I want to say sweetheart or honey or anything to soften the blow. I don't.

He either sleeps in too late or doesn't sleep at all. (Usually, he stays up all day for about four nights, then crashes on the fifth and sleeps through most of the day and the night.)

He blinks. "Oh. You again," he mutters, rolling over.

I try not to show it, but his sleeping habits are starting to drive me around the bend. He stays up all day, pacing and muttering, so I never end up getting a proper sleep. When he finally crashes out it almost feels like a relief to get some time to myself, that's not spent trying to appease his every whim. (That is, until he wakes up and keeps me up all day again.)

But he wouldn't be like this if it weren't for me. So the least I can do is take care of him. So I've been reminded, about a billion times over.

"How long was I asleep?" he says blearily.

"Almost eighteen hours."

He doesn't look very rested.

"You said you were going to—go to the palace. With your mother. What happened?" The only thing he seems interested in is the war; any other conversation topic I attempt to introduce immediately brushed aside.

"We've pushed Snowfox's troops back," I say, brushing my talon against his cheek. "Into the desert, and not too many dragons died in that attack on Silver Valley. They're already starting to rebuild, she's got soldiers assigned to help with that." If I could, I'd be with them–there's not much of a barrier to enlisting in the army. I'd start guarding the border and work my way up the ranks. I'm strong, I'm ready to fight–I'd do it in a heartbeat.

Arctic has nobody to look after him. I can't leave him alone.

Besides. If I leave... he might not be there when I get home.

He furrows his brow. "Oh. That's... good. That's something at least."

"And," I say, risking a smile, "She said that she'd seen me fight, and she was impressed with my abilities."

"Oh." It's not exactly the response I was hoping for, and I deflate a little.

"Here, um–have your tea," I say,  passing him the mug so my talons are free to root around in my bag and pull out the scroll Vigilance gave me. I almost don't want to give the letter to him–but I'm not going to keep secrets from him, even if it's the easier thing to do.

He makes a face, taking a tiny sip. (He likes his tea cold, and seems most able to tolerate peppermint.) I laugh to myself, then fight it back as he gives me an odd look.

"This came from Diamond," I say, handing him the scroll. "I haven't read it." I fidget with my bracelet, twisting it back and forth on my wrist.

He takes the scroll as though it's poisoned. It's just paper. Just words. How much harm can it do?

He scans over the lines of text. I fight off the urge to read over his shoulder. (I don't really need to; Diamond's letters are more or less the same every time. Or, that's what I tell myself anyways.)