Sleep eludes him until it does not, no matter how lazy in which Aldric appears, he is haunted—much like all persons, especially those from Minrathous, who’s disorderly chaos brought pain upon them all. The warmth and Nirali’s comfort have been luring him to slumber nonetheless, where he feels safe at first until it is only he trapped within the dreams he wishes he could forget.

He struggles against such chains, thrashing at the dark flames that lick at his legs, slowly consuming all that he is.

Gentle touches beckons for him, asking for his presence to return to reality away from the nightmares that plague him. His ears twitch, paws flicking alive a moment later, but alas, Aldric does not open his golden gaze just yet. He hears her voice akin to a distant echo. »Nirali?« In his dreams it is clear, in reality, it is a sleepy mumble.

“My prince.” He shudders. It has been long since he’s been called that. His parents often prided the title, and he, too, lingers on it as if it is all he has left to remember them by. He blinks his eyes open, breath held until a stammering exhale escapes him.

Stunned, he finds Nirali before him. Her soft, ethereal glow blessing him, as if she is an angel who’s pulled him from Hell.

Hazed from his slumber, Aldric does not realize his turmoil—not in the way Nirali does. Each kiss and snuggle a comfort that the ex-prince melts under. The tension gradually fading from his lanky frame. Eventually, he, too, joins in with the kisses, pressing them tenderly upon his mate where he can reach. Between the onslaught of affection, Aldric finds his words; »Are you alright?« He whispers—gruff tone barely loud enough to hear between the two of them.

Getting into this routine is something Aldric never thought he’d have the pleasure of; he melts, savoring each touch as if starved for it. The ex-prince longed for this, and the fact he is able to wake up and see her makes him feel nothing but bliss. Taunting nightmares tucked to the very corner of his mind. Yet, his mate is observant, realizing what he’s gone through and bringing it up without Aldric being completely aware. He shifts, lifting his head slowly. »Oh…« His volume just as quiet as before. »Must have been a dream.«

He truly does not wish to worry her; he almost wishes to lie, say it hasn’t happened before when they haunt him more often than not. Aldric cannot, however, for even if he tried he knows Nirali would unravel the truth. He’s never been good at it, and she can read him like an open book. Slowly, he nods his head. »After… they banished you from Minrathous,« he says, swallowing down thickly as if the words itself pain him—the memory fresh, a wound bleeding from his heart. »They told me… that you guys left, out of your own free will.« Of course, Aldric never believed in such a thing, but doubts had clogged him regardless; creeping up and grasping hold of his hidden insecurities. His mind a weapon against himself; echoing over and over again in an eerie tone that he’d been abandoned once more. Eventually he’d learned the truth, but not before the doubt had already been rooted.

Wielding a spear, it is stabbed within his heart; echoing a pain that has been covered numerous times to no avail. It is an accusation that he has no right to deny; in truth, he had, when time and time again he was given lies in place of truth. The ironhold his parents held upon him shackled him; a mistake that Aldric must live with for the rest of his days, yet he adventured and corrected his ways before too long. That is why he is now here.

Black rimmed ears swerve backwards, silence an answer, as she unravels her own side; of her trying, fighting against nature and the goons of Minrathous. Never once had Aldric blamed her; perhaps that is where he led the conversation astray, made Nirali feel as if she must justify herself in his eyes when he lays his bleeding heart before her.

»I know,« he says. »That is why I am here.« The doubt rests not in her words, but in his own worth. It saddens him that these thoughts plague him, seeping unwantedly. He sinks into the grave he dug.

To see one so strong crumble before him is difficult, but there is beauty; strength in admitting wrongs and weaknesses that Aldric wishes he could learn from. The silver prince tucks close to her, pressing his muzzle over-top her head as she buries into him.

»I do not blame you, and I never have,« he tries to keep his graveled voice steady in the wake of such intensity; emotions over-spilling. He is not the only one hurting, for it is obvious they both have resolved issues; of thinking no matter what they did, it was not good enough. »The decisions were out of our control.«

They were victims to the whims of others, older and supposedly wiser than the kids that were tossed outside—never truly understanding the meaning of their supposed mission to teaching when all it brought was pain and hatred. »I love you.« He says, not only to utter the feelings at his core that would not change, but to remind her—he loves every part of her.