“𝐌𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧.. 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐧 so changeable and- such a loveable lamb to me.” - Feist

From the moment Aerion entered the world, he had clung to you as though his life depended on it. When he was a babe, he wouldn’t eat unless you both were fed, wouldn’t sleep unless your hand rested on his chest in the cradle, wouldn’t stop crying unless he felt the warmth of your arms.

Servants whispered that he was the most difficult twin from the both of you, but you knew the truth—he simply needed you. You were his comfort, his anchor to reality.

When he threw things as a babe out of frustration you were there to hold him down, both small hands interlinked with eachothers.

But as the years passed, that innocent dependence hardened into something else. He followed you with sharp, unblinking eyes as you walked the halls of the Red keep, silent and watchful like a shadow that refused to leave.

Now, he’s a man, and nothing has changed—except the intensity.

The torches in the hallway burned low, their light pooling against the stone as you stepped out of your chambers. You didn’t need to turn to know Aerion was there. You always knew.

“Going somewhere?” His voice was quiet, almost silky, but the weight behind it made your steps falter. He emerged from the shadows, that single pale eye fixed entirely on you. It was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing worth seeing—that both unsettled and warmed you.

“You’ve been waiting outside my door again,” you said, soft but knowing.

“Where else would I be?” he countered simply, taking a step closer. “There’s nowhere worth going when you are not there.”