Timeline: a Wings of Fire fanfiction (COMPLETED)

13.

Clearsight

We won't tell anyone.

Not just yet. I mean, we'll have to eventually. But I want to wait as long as I can before that happens.

Darkstalker would have told everyone, if he could. He would have climbed up onto the roof of the Night Palace and shouted it out at the world, that we're going to be parents, with a little dragonet, a girl, with electric blue eyes and a lightning smile.

But I don't want the rumours to spread. I don't want to have to deal with my parents' inevitable disapproval. I don't want to not be able to buy groceries without being asked about baby names. I don't want Queen Vigilance to be asking if I can tell if our daughter is an animus; or if my powers are genetic, or how many moons she'll hatch under. How many children we're willing to have to find out.

If anyone but Darkstalker--and maybe Fathom--finds out, I'm going to have a panic attack.

***

Queen Vigilance seems like she's getting more and more paranoid and unreasonable by the day. I can't even tell why, exactly, but the amount of work she's piling on me is starting to get unreasonable. Most days, I only get a couple hours of sleep.

Darkstalker doesn't even get any sleep at all, most days--at least, as far as I know. I don't know what he does, while I'm sleeping. I don't even know how he handles almost never getting any rest, these days. (Some kind of spell?) But somehow, every morning, he still finds a way of acting like everything is normal.

There are so many paths, suddenly. So many things I can't stop thinking about.

And there are parties we have to go to, almost every night. It's exhausting, honestly. Pretending. I watch Darkstalker sip at red wine, devour an entire snack platter, and absently let my mind wander to the future as I make boring chitchat with nobles I've never met before.

I'm just... so tired. Maybe that's a being-with-an-egg thing, or maybe it's just the world.

***

Darkstalker has been acting weird, of late. Not angry. Not sad. Not numb. Most of the time, he's wonderful. He helps with the cooking--or, his magic does, anyway. He doesn't make a huge deal out of it when I eat four times more than he does, which I have now decided is officially a being-with-an-egg thing. He's really nice about it actually; he brings me cookies and muffins and pastries he's cooked up or bought from the bakery when he knows that I'm busy working and won't remember to feed myself until I'm starving. Sometimes, he'll wake me up with hot chocolate, or coffee with frothed milk, just because he knows it makes me happy.

And he talks all the time about the dragonet. Sometimes, he'll go out on some errand and come back with none of the stuff I asked him to buy, but five new picture scrolls from the scroll-shop we used to go to on dates. It's sort of adorable.

Maybe if I didn't know him so well, I would be able to pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that he was honestly better; that somehow this had... fixed him.

But I know it's not like that. I can tell in the little things.

Like how at parties, he'll just stare off into space. Even when he's talking to me. His voice just goes blank. And I can feel the darkness taking over inside. Like it's no longer him talking. It's... the monster.

Or sometimes, he'll just leave a note on the door saying he's going flying, and be gone the whole night, and won't be back until the next morning.

And honestly, I don't want to ask about it. I mean, where's that going to get me anyway, right?

It's not like he's going to want to talk about it.

***

"Maybe you should talk to someone about this. Like, a doctor or something."

"What do you mean?" Darkstalker wrinkles his snout.

"Like, about... your dad. Or whatever it is that's bugging you so much." My talon drifts to my stomach instinctively; a habit I've been developing of late. I'm terrified I'll hurt her somehow, without even knowing it. I check the futures every other hour. "Like, a counsellor? I don't know?"

"I'm fine," he says softly, rolling his eyes at me in the mirror. "I don't... I don't need to talk to anyone. I didn't even care about him that much. I mean, I'm pretty much completely over it." He forces a smile.

"You're worrying me, Darkstalker." I fiddle with my tail, adjusting my necklace. 

"I'll be fine." He grabs my talon, smiling. "I mean it, Clearsight." He pauses, eyes glittering. Glances around the room. "May I have this dance, my fair lady? You look beautiful tonight."

I roll my eyes, grabbing his talons. "You idiot, " I say fondly.

He spins me around, humming a song I've heard somewhere. Halfway through the steps of a dance I know off-by-heart, after all of these stupid parties I've had to practice at, he breaks away and rushes out of the room without explanation.  I already have half an idea of what he's going to do.

He comes back with his scroll and a pot of ink. He sets them out on the vanity and scribbles something down in sloppy handwriting.

A second later, the sound of invisible violins and cellos fills the room. The music is silvery and beautiful; more perfect than anything I've ever heard played by a dragon.

"There. That's better." He glances up at me.

I grab Darkstalker's talons. He lifts me up, tosses me up in the air. I beam back at him, trying to just pretend we're the only dragons in the world for a moment.

And it's lovely. It really is. But I still can't stop worrying, that night. Because I know perfectly well that no matter how many times he says he's fine, smiles and tries to distract me... he'll still be lying.