Fire Comes First (private Aisling x Whitaker)

---

He rolled over, squinting in the light.

Immediately he swung around to look for Gaelan. The little bastard forced Whit to move into a ground-level cave- because as much as Gaelan loved his illusionary wings, they offered zero flight to Whitaker's precious treehouse. Now another tenant was living in it. Whitaker made a point to glare at them whenever they crossed paths. No one's fault, of course. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

He looked to the dirt patch at the foot of the cave where Gaelan liked to leave notes. A rudimentary drawing of a horse with antlers and a squiggle for a snake were etched into the dirt. An arrow above them pointed west. Gaelan went exploring.

Whit wasn't worried- the kid's snake probably had more sense than him and would be a fine babysitter. If not, a Flight member would come back dragging the Kirin by his hair and scolding him for poking where he didn't belong.

Whit stretched and shook his mane. He unfurled his wings. In normal conditions they could almost extend completely in the width of the cave, feather tips nearly brushing the cold stone walls, but his injured shoulder made the left side of his body sore and weak. He winced, trying to push past the pain to exercise the joint, but it screamed back at him. Othala had wrapped it, and it was healing, but too slowly for his taste.

He pulled a blanket around his neck, chilly in the cold morning air, and laid down again, content to rest for a bit more.

Suddenly he heard a soft voice. Someone was outside. Was Gaelan coming back to scare him? Wouldn't be the first time. Whit groaned and stood up, limping toward the entrance.

"Gaelan you sneaky little-"

But when he stepped past the linen curtains into the sun, it wasn't the small scaled boy but Aisling. 

---

“Oh thank the gods you’re alright. Why aren’t you with the rest of the Flock? We’ll be leaving for Sedo soon.”

He pressed his head against her neck. That was Aisling- quiet in spirit, but aggressively affectionate, doting and worrying like a mother hen. 

He didn't answer right away. His nose pressed her mane, breathing her in. Normally Whit would fear Ouu's hawk-like glare, being so close to the stallion's wife, but today was going to be different. Today was goodbye. 

He finally pulled away.

"Alright for the most part," he snorted, a lopsided grin spreading across his lips. "Othala's been treating me. I'm crippled for now. But should get better, she says."

He stepped back slowly, looking her over, drawing in a breath to break the news that he was staying at the Aerie-

A small pale head poked out from Aisling's wing. 

Whit's mouth went dry. His eyes grew wide. His heart leapt in his chest, slamming against his ribcage.

Don't look weird, don't act weird.

Who was this, who was-

Don't be weird.

Could only be-

Stay natural, be unfazed.

How did he not know? 

Stop panicking.

He tried to bring words to his tongue, tried to say anything to break the silence he was now drowning in as the seconds ticked by with ever-increasing awkwardness, but he couldn't do it. He stood mouth hanging slightly open, and finally broke his sight away from the baby's face to look Aisling in the eyes. 

Excitement? Joy? Numbness? Shock? Sadness? He couldn't identify what he was feeling. But his head spun.

He said nothing. He wasn't going to offer up any words. She had to explain. 

---

The babe pressed itself to Aisling, staring at Whit with huge doe eyes. Secret? Why? He thought he was closer to her than an acquaintance. 

Then again, Aisling wasn't his. He had no right to knowing her daily dealings. 

“Her name’s Primrose.”

Whit bit the inside of his cheek, searching for words. 

"I'm sorry, I'm just... surprised." He smiled at the filly, a look half filled with warmth and half filled with fear. 

Whit had never been good with kids. Gaelan was here until he could be pawned off to a more suitable family, but at least Gaelan could hold a conversation. Babies escaped his understanding. They were small, weak, silent, inhaling the world with an innocence and newness that Whit could never remember. 

And yet he felt judged. Foals always told the truth about people. If they didn't like you, they rushed back to their mothers' breast in fear or dislike. If he couldn't win the affection of Aisling's daughter, that would mean he somehow failed. 

"She's beautiful." That was the truth. Her short curly hair looked new and soft as it wove through Aisling's teke. And she was going to Sedo, a safe place far away from this war-driven Aerie where she could learn to fly with other pegasi. Free from the oppression of Aquore. With Aisling and Ouu to watch over her. Her childhood would be perfect. 

And he wouldn't be there to see it.

"No, I'm uh... I'm staying here." He felt the weight of the words fall from his tongue like lead. Trying to explain this to Aisling would be difficult.

"I feel like... like I'm supposed to stay here. We're not done- the Flock still has work to do. I'm happier when I'm working. And I have no family, no one to stay safe for. I'm the perfect soldier." He let out a little laugh. They both knew that last line wasn't true.

And he wondered if she knew him well enough to know this wasn't the whole truth, that he needed purpose in order to keep a sense of self-importance in this ravaged world. That laying around in Sedo would render him useless. And useless equids were worthless equids. 

---

He had avoided showing much emotion until this point. He'd wanted to believe he was above anguish and fear and sorrow. Too much had happened between them for him to become sentimental at this point. 

But the second her soft mane pressed against his neck and the smell of her warmed his nostrils, his throat constricted suddenly as painful as his shoulder, and tears brimmed the corners of his eyes. 

"Dammit, Aisling," he said softly.

He'd said goodbye to her once before when they were wanderers, but the vine between them was now tempered with many years and kinship past, and it was devastating to uproot.

“I hope you find everything you’ve ever wanted, Whitaker.”

At that point the dam broke and the tears spilled, sinking into her soft mane. He pulled her close to his chest. He tried to keep his breathing even, trying to hide his shuddering.

Primrose was still looking at him. Prim was the symbol that Aisling was moving on. He wanted to love her, he wanted to be kind and soft to her, but Primrose through no fault of her own was pulling her parents to a faraway land. And he hated the grit that stuck in his heart toward this child, this precious newborn who had done nothing wrong but was causing him such anguish.

When Aisling pulled away, he looked down, trying furiously to wipe the wet from his eyes with teke. 

“I want her to remember you.”

He forced himself to look at Prim, biting his lips. Remember him? As what? He was a nobody in this great world, one cog in a massive machine. He was a royal fuckup, a homeless thief, a bastard kid without the intelligence or talent to do anything more than die and fight for a lost cause. 

Remember him to serve as a bad example, perhaps. 

But it was Aisling's wish, and Aisling wasn't to be argued with. With a touch of gold teke, he softly pulled out two feathers from his injured wing. They gleamed in the sun. Brown and striped. Plain as can be. 

"Don't let this stain her," he said. "Teach her to be better than I was. Remember me as an imperfect character in this story- imperfect but not a lost cause, because you were always there for me, and some days that was the only thing keeping me alive."