The corridor curved gently, lantern-light catching in the glass panels like drifting stars. For a few steps, they walked in companionable quiet—close enough now that Celeste could feel Silver’s presence without looking.
She broke it first, as she usually did.
“So,” she said, glancing up at him, curiosity bright and unguarded, “um—this might be personal, so you can say no—but what kind of hybrid are you? I know your part dragon just not which type?”
Silver blinked, then smiled—this time less polished, more amused.
“Well. No preamble, no gentle circling. How refreshingly dangerous.” He inclined his head. “Maine Coon… and Alpha Dragon.”
Celeste stopped walking.
“…Wait.”
He halted too, brow lifting. “Yes?”
Her eyes went huge. “That’s—oh. That’s one of the strongest dragon forms. Like. Very strong. Almost unfairly strong.”
Silver waved a hand lightly. “Allegedly. The rankings change depending on who’s trying to intimidate whom.”
Celeste beamed like she’d just found a rare trading card.
“That’s AWESOME.”
Something in Silver’s chest loosened at the sheer sincerity of it.
“Well,” he said, warming, “it does come with drawbacks. I shed like a cursed tapestry and possess an almost embarrassing devotion to warm stone surfaces. Sunlit ruins are my natural enemy.”
Celeste snorted before she could stop herself. “Oh stars—so you’re majestic and inconvenient.”
“A devastating combination. I endure with grace.”
She thought for half a second, then grinned. “Okay. My turn. I’m a ragdoll cat crossed with—”
“—a walking celestial incident,” Silver supplied dryly.
Celeste laughed, bright and unguarded. “Rude! Accurate, but rude.”
Silver laughed too—properly this time, a short surprised sound that slipped past his control.
“…All right. I concede that one entirely.”
She paused for a moment, then smiled. “Okay. But really. I’m a ragdoll cat crossed with—”
“Dragon,” Silver said.
Celeste blinked. “Well, yes, but also—”
“Ice dragon, perhaps,” he continued, walking on as though completing a puzzle. “Or gem dragon. Something flashy. The fire-breathing at the lake was rather difficult to miss.”
“Oh! Yes, that is part of it. But I’m also—”
“Ragdoll makes sense,” he said, not slowing. “The clumsy sweetness. The large eyes. The general air of someone who might apologise to furniture after walking into it.”
Celeste flushed, smiling awkwardly. “Oh. Thank you?”
Silver’s mouth curved. “It wasn’t entirely praise, darling.”
She nodded, still smiling, entirely missing it. “That’s alright. It sounded educational.”
Silver glanced at her.
Then away.
How absurd, he thought. Some genius had taken an overly fluffy, laid-back lap breed and combined it with a fire-breathing predator. It was like putting a cannon inside a cushion and hoping it learned table manners.
Celeste trotted to keep up. “I was going to say, there’s more than just dragon. I’m also part—”
“Probably something equally ridiculous,” Silver said smoothly.
Celeste brightened. “Oh, yes, very!”
That made him laugh under his breath.
She tilted her head at him. “But you’re a Maine Coon, aren’t they—”
“Highly intelligent,” Silver interrupted at once, lifting one finger. “Affectionate when they choose to be. Excellent climbers. Fine hunters. Keen eyesight. Magnificent bone structure.”
Celeste nodded with grave seriousness. “That does sound like you.”
“Obviously.”
“And modest.”
“Also obviously.”
Celeste opened her mouth again, clearly trying to circle back. “So, technically, my other parts are—”
Silver’s attention had already drifted to the next mural.
“Mm. Later, perhaps. I’m sure the full biological tragedy will require footnotes.”
Celeste smiled brightly. “Oh, I can make diagrams.”
“I feared you might.”
They started walking again, closer now without noticing.
That was when Silver spoke again, casually—almost comfortable.
“You know,” he said casually, “most commanders I’ve met hide behind faith to justify their authority. You don’t.” He glanced down at her, voice lowering. “It’s rather… refreshing.”
Celeste smiled, pleased but uncertain. “Oh! Thank you. I think? I’m never entirely sure when I’m doing things correctly, but I do try very hard.”
Silver smirked. Hook set.
He leaned in just a touch, eyes soft, voice smooth as poured wine.
“And you have an awful habit of looking up at people when you listen,” he added. “Makes one feel terribly important.”
Celeste immediately craned her neck higher.
“Oh! Sorry—should I not do that? I can look at the wall instead if that’s better?”
Silver froze.
“…No,” he said carefully. “That wasn’t a complaint.”
“Oh good!” she chirped. “Because I have bad depth perception and sometimes walls sneak up on me.”
She demonstrated by immediately bumping her shoulder into one.
Silver had to bite back another laugh.
He tried again.
“You must get lonely,” he said, softer now, conspiratorial. “Bearing all that responsibility. All those eyes on you.” A pause. “If you ever needed someone… to talk to. Someone who understands pressure.”
Celeste gasped.
“Oh! You’re anxious too?”
“…Excuse me?”
She nodded earnestly. “That makes sense. You do hold your shoulders very stiff. You should stretch more. Lumina has a routine—”
Silver blinked. Once. Twice.
Before he could respond, a voice echoed down the corridor.
“WOW.”
They both turned.
Mezzo was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, tail flicking, wearing the widest, most delighted grin imaginable.
“Is this what passes for flirting in the Outer Ring?” Mezzo asked loudly. “Because this is adorable.”
Silver straightened instantly. “I beg your pardon?”
Mezzo ignored him completely, turning to Celeste.
“Cel, darling. He’s trying to charm you.”
Celeste tilted her head. “Oh. Like… a bard?”
“Yes,” Mezzo said solemnly. “A very smug bard.”
Silver scoffed. “I am not—”
Mezzo stepped closer, dropping into an exaggerated imitation of Silver’s posture.
“‘You look up when you listen,’” Mezzo purred in a fake aristocratic drawl. “‘It makes one feel important.’”
He snapped back to normal, grinning.
“Mate, if you leaned any harder you’d need a fainting couch.”
Celeste’s eyes widened.
“Oh! Was that flirting?”
Silver’s jaw tightened. “This is highly inappropriate.”
Mezzo clutched his chest. “He says, while actively flirting.”
“I was engaging in conversation.”
“With intent,” Mezzo shot back. “Big difference.”
Celeste looked between them, genuinely concerned.
“Oh no. Did I respond wrong? I’m sorry, Silver. I didn’t mean to mess up the conversation.”
Silver opened his mouth.
Mezzo cut in instantly.
“Celeste, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. In fact—” he looked at Silver up and down, smug “—you are astonishingly immune to this.”
Celeste perked up. “Immune to what?”
“Men like him,” Mezzo said cheerfully.
Silver pinched the bridge of his nose. “You are insufferable.”
Mezzo beamed. “Thank you.”
Celeste clapped her hands once.
“Oh! So this is like when Topsy tries to sell me things and I think she’s just being enthusiastic!”
Mezzo laughed so hard he had to brace himself on the wall.
Silver muttered, “Stars preserve me.”
Celeste smiled at Silver, completely sincere.
“Don’t worry. If you ever want to practice flirting properly, I can ask Ray. She’s very direct.”
Mezzo howled.
Silver turned red.
They walked on together, the cathedral corridor opening into a softer stretch of light where the stained glass thinned and the echoes faded. The tension from earlier still lingered—but thinner now, like steam after a storm.
Celeste glanced up at Silver, hesitating, then spoke quietly.
“You know,” she said, sincere as ever, “I think it’s brave that you’re here.”
Silver blinked. “Brave?”
“Yes.” She nodded, as if this were obvious. “You didn’t have to come. You could’ve stayed where everything makes sense to you. But you didn’t. You’re… trying. Even when it’s uncomfortable.” She smiled, small and warm. “That counts. At least to me.”
It landed.
Silver didn’t respond right away. His instinct was to deflect, to charm, to turn it into something lighter—but something in her tone stopped him. There was no angle. No expectation. Just a simple, earnest assessment.
“…Thank you,” he said at last, quieter than usual. “Most people mistake discomfort for weakness.”
Celeste brightened. “Oh! Yes! I do that all the time. Turns out they’re very different things.”
Silver actually smiled. Not the practiced one. The real, quick kind that surprised even him.
Then—without comment—he slowed his step.
He let Celeste walk ahead.
She drifted naturally toward Mezzo, already talking again, hands moving as she explained something with too much enthusiasm and not enough pauses. Her laughter echoed softly, bright and unguarded.
Silver stopped.
The stained glass rose beside him—panels of saints, knights, Motherlight herself—colors spilling across the polished stone. In the glass, his reflection wavered: tall, composed, immaculate. Heir. Noble. Survivor.
For the first time in a long while, doubt crept in uninvited.
Is she like the others?
Is this just another mask?
Do I need to protect myself? Lower her guard before she lowers mine?
It was an old dance. One he’d learned young. Perfected over years of dinners, councils, smiles that hid knives. Assume threat. Control distance. Never be the vulnerable one first.
But Celeste—
She didn’t circle.
She didn’t probe.
She didn’t sharpen her words.
She barreled forward like the world was something to be met head-on, not survived sideways.
Silver’s gaze dropped to his reflection again.
For a heartbeat, he saw himself as he was beneath the titles and polish—exposed. Unarmored. Human in a way nobility discouraged.
He inhaled slowly.
Straightened his coat.
Lifted his chin.
Then he stepped forward, closing the distance, following Celeste as she disappeared ahead with Mezzo—still talking, still laughing, utterly unaware that she’d just shaken something carefully reinforced over a lifetime.
They rounded a pillar—and Celeste immediately turned to Mezzo, who’d been walking just ahead, pretending not to listen while absolutely listening.
“Mezzo?” she said.
He perked up. “Yes, Commander of My Heart?”
She ignored that. “Thanks for helping me. You didn’t have to, but you do anyway. You always do.”
Mezzo stopped dead.
“…Oh.”
He straightened, chest puffing out, tail giving a subtle, pleased twitch. His gryphon side practically preened.
“Yeah,” he said, suddenly very cool. “Well. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on posh lads with wandering intentions.”
He shot Silver a look—half smug, half territorial.
Silver rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck.
“Please,” Silver muttered. “I was having a conversation.”
Mezzo leaned in just enough to be irritating.
“Uh-huh. Sure you were.”
In Mezzo’s head, his gryphon side flared, satisfied.
Yes. Back off. Whatever you are.
Celeste, oblivious to the silent duel, clasped her hands together happily.
“I’m really glad you’re both here,” she said. “It’s nicer when people don’t feel like they’re alone.”
Silver glanced at her again—really looked this time.
Not weak.
Not naive.
Just… open. Painfully, dangerously open.
And for reasons he didn’t yet understand, that made him want—very unexpectedly—to be better.
Mezzo caught the look and smirked.
Silver sighed.
This was going to be a long assignment.
