Ngl, this is my favorite chapter so far!

As Eyarr and I became more comfortable inside his family's house, despite knowing the history, the peace was soon broken.

Eyarr had made us breakfast. The fire was warm compared to the cool haze outside. It was a lovely morning otherwise. We ate in silence, but then we heard Cliffire freaking out outside. He began snarling and roaring, and then Riptide joined in.

Eyarr and I glanced at each other in confusion.

"What on earth?" He said, placing his bowl of food down and making his way to the front door. I followed him to go see what was bothering the dragons.

Eyarr opened the door to a group of displeased faces.

"Well, well," the oldest man of the group sneered, "I knew you would come crawling back." The older man had a mostly shaven head, except for a thick section of hair on the top that was tied into a long braid. His beard was also long and also braided. His light hazel-green eyes were cold and judgemental. And even though he had a long beard, I could tell there was a permanent frown.

Based on his tone, I knew that was far from a happy response, and the expression on Eyarr's face told me everything.

His family had returned, and they were not happy.

Eyarr huffed, crossing his arms.

"Don't get the idea that it was for you."

"What other reason would it be?"

"For myself, for once." The older man rolled his eyes, scoffing.

"You believe this, Revna? After everything we gave him. Yet he still turns it away." The woman, Revna… Eyarr's mother. A woman with tanned skin, honey-colored hair, and brown eyes that were the furthest thing from warm. Freckles patterned her cheeks; I could see where Eyarr got it from.

"Still unappreciative."

"There's not much to appreciate." Eyarr retorted. My gaze shifted to the other woman in Eyarr's family. She was older than Eyarr and me. And if I had to guess, she was around my older twin cousins' age. Her honey-blond hair was also tied up, with loose tendrils framing her face.

"For someone who's survived out in the wilderness for so long… you look… somewhat decent." She remarked with a raised judgemental brow and crossed arms. It was hard to interpret her comment as a compliment. And Eyarr definitely didn't accept it as such.

"Feeling the love, Gislaug." And then the two youngest of the family, the twin boys, who said nothing.

"Mikkel. Rikvald." Eyarr greeted, and I noticed his tone wasn't as cold as it was towards his parents and sister, which was interesting.

Though I knew their names, I could not tell for the life of me who was who, though one of the two looked remarkably like Eyarr, which was a bit spooky. They were identical, though their hairstyles were their main differentiator, not that it mattered in this situation.

"So, are you gonna let us in?" Gislaug questioned. Eyarr poorly fought back a snort.

"You think I'm just gonna let you in?"

"Out of the way, boy. It is my house. I built it was my bare hands." His father hissed.

"Easy, Skarde. There are two dragons watching. I wouldn't threaten their riders." My eyes widened slightly; hearing Eyarr address his father by his first name in that tone, the respect between father and son was irreparable.

"I'm still your father." Another eye roll.

"If I really cared about familial bonds, I wouldn't have left, do you know that?"

Eyarr then turned his back to head back inside, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then his father aggressively grabbed Eyarr's shoulder. With equal aggressiveness, Eyarr pushed his father's hand off.

"Don't you fucking start." Eyarr snapped. "If you wanna fight, take it outside."

"Actually, yes! Let's go outside!" I encouraged, a nervous smile crossing my face as I guided the two men out and off the front porch. I don't think his father anticipated me to speak up and interject.

"This isn't your place to interfere." He spat.

"Well, if it has to do with this idiot's safety, then it absolutely is." I retorted.

But once we were all outside, what had started as a passive-aggressive dispute turned into a full-blown argument. And it was between Eyarr and his father. A constant back and forth between passing blame for a variety of things, both minor and severe.

The looks on Eyarr's sibling's faces told me that this had been normal while they were growing up, which was just so sad to imagine. And Eyarr's mother, Revna, made no effort to mediate.

Eventually, though, I was no longer processing the harsh words exchanged between father and son. I was over it, but I didn't feel safe interfering. And I caught Eyarr's hand resting over the hilt of his sword, and his father did the same.

"Eyarr- Do not make this worse," I warned him.

"Come on, boy, you've always wanted to fight your old man. Let's get it over with." Skarde and I both watched Eyarr, but I was really paying attention to his mannerisms and body language. His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword briefly before his hand eventually fell.

"I'm not stooping to your level." I heard Cliffire approach us, stopping next to the house, watching us, and Riptide watched us from the shore.

"Cliffire? Would you do the honors?" Cliffire shook his horns, opened his maw, and a torrent of fire exploded.

"EYARR!" We all shouted. The cabin erupted in flames in seconds, the force of the explosion causing all of us to duck. With Eyarr and I closest to the cabin, the sound of the explosion made my ears ring. But following the initial shock, I whipped around to face Eyarr's family, my expression mirroring theirs. But as I faced them, one of Eyarr's brothers, the one that looked the most like him, had raised the bow and sheath of arrows he wore and had loosed an arrow directly at me.

I didn't react in time, with everything feeling like it was in slow motion. I just barely turned my head as the arrow whizzed past my face. And I fell.

When I sat back up, I felt a painful sting on my right cheek. As I reached up, I was horrified upon feeling warm blood on my fingers. My hand trembled from the shock that coursed through me, not expecting his family to attack me.

My ears still ringing, I could just barely hear the sound of shouting and grunting. When I refocused, I witnessed the sight of Eyarr launching an attack on his father, sword drawn. Blood began to spatter everywhere, though I couldn't tell whose blood had been spilled. It didn't matter, not when I felt some spatter on my face.

There was rage in Eyarr's eyes, a rage that scared me, that I'd never seen before in someone. He did not look at me, his mind in one place. Beneath him, his father had his neck sliced, blood pouring from his mouth through gritted teeth, the skin of his face pale and becoming ashen. The slice in his neck was deep enough to expose the muscle and tendons, and blood spurted from one of the arteries.

His eyes… there had been no love in them anyway, but now, they were loveless, cold, and so very dead. It was like he was still staring into my soul, and the sheer sight of it sent chills down my body. My vision blurred, unable to discern the faces of Eyarr's family frozen in the background. Still shaking, I scrambled backward, not caring about my own blood streaking down my cheek.

Run. Run. Run. The voice in my head screamed.

And I listened.

Heart pounding, I clamored up and took off into the woods, forgetting about Riptide entirely.

Oh my gods…

I don't know how long I ran, but I had exhausted my energy, and my legs ached. Thighs screaming, I fell to the moss-covered forest floor, propping myself up against a fallen log. Sitting there, I tried to process what just happened.

My hands were shaking, but I couldn't feel anything. My fingertips were tingling. My chest ached from my running, and any deep breaths I attempted hurt even more. As I sat there, I became overwhelmed with emotion, and tears began flowing down my cheeks. I couldn't get myself under control, my head began to spin, and my eyes stung from my tears. The pain of my tears falling over my wound caused more tears to fall. They would not stop.

Gods… Gods… Eyarr.

I couldn't even think of the words in my head to describe the absolute horror of what I witnessed. To witness a life being taken away in front of me in such a brutal manner… I could never unsee that. And for Eyarr to break his composure, what was I going to do with him? Would he bring harm to me as well?

No, no. He wouldn't… His anger was directed at his family, he wouldn't intentionally hurt me.

I had naïvely hoped that I maybe, just maybe, could help sort of peacefully resolve the tension between Eyarr and his family. But it was clear now that there was no hope of reconciliation even before this. And in a way, Eyarr had accomplished what he'd intended; to cut off his family for good. The brutal murder of his father confirmed that.

I stayed in place for hours after running into the woods, barely moving a muscle. And as I began to drift off, with the adrenaline fading, I heard Eyarr's voice echo through the forest, calling my name.

But I did not answer.

He called my name numerous times, but it soon faded out as I finally allowed myself to sleep.

The smell of smoke woke me. Peeling my eyes open, my sight adjusted to the dim light of twilight. Along with the smell of smoke, I caught the whiff of copper. Or, wait, no, burnt blood.

Gagging slightly, I sat up and realized that Eyarr had found me.

Across the small fire, Eyarr sat cleaning his sword, and right behind him was Cliffire. And much to my astonishment, Riptide was also here.

My Riptide lifted his head, making a chirp-like sound when he saw I was awake. His sound alerted Eyarr, who glanced up from his sword.

Automatically, my heart sank into my stomach, and I pressed my back into the log behind me, hands digging into the soft, moss-covered earth below. I began breathing deeply out of fear as Eyarr came over, holding something in his hand. I stared at him with wide eyes, and it took him a moment to process the expression I bore.

"Laeli?" He finally asked, his voice gentle and low, tinged with worry. I wanted to say something, but my voice caught in my throat. He reached his hand up to touch my cheek, but I flinched, pulling away.

Hurt filled his eyes, but he, too, couldn't find the words.

As he leaned back to give me space, I became acutely aware of the stinging on my cheek. Grimacing, I delicately touched my cheekbone, feeling a gash that had started crusting over. It was at least an inch long, maybe slightly longer, and it occurred to me that it was in the same spot as Eyarr's cheek scar.

We were matching.

"I need to fix that." He finally said, not meeting my eyes.

I reluctantly relented, allowing him to care for my wound, cleaning it up and getting a needle and thread to stitch it up.

We sat there by the fire in relative silence as he focused on closing my wound. He had given me rags to bite on and to squeeze to help deal with the pain. I'd never had an injury like this before, and while I was no stranger to needles with all my tattoos, having one this close to my eye unnerved me, and I did not enjoy it.

I had no idea how long we sat there, but he finished the last stitch, carefully cutting the loose thread with a small knife. Then he grabbed a bottle of some liquid, soaking a rag he had and then gently dabbing it over the now closed wound. The sting startled me, making me flinch. I instinctively reached my hand up to touch it, but he grabbed my wrist, preventing me from doing so.

"Fuck! Eyarr!"

"I'm sorry, I need to keep it clean! Don't touch it." He gently scolded me. Teeth gritted, I yanked my hand out of his grip.

I was unsure if I was genuinely angry at him or the pain of the wound, and him stitching it up was pissing me off. Either way, I was not having any of it.

"Hey, what's your deal?" He demanded. I laughed, not out of amusement but astonishment.

"What's my deal?! The nerve of you!" I snapped.

"I'm a little confused here, I just took care of a wound on your face, and I get an attitude in thanks?" I shot him a deadly glare.

"And do tell me how I acquired said injury? Huh? Maybe, oh, I don't know, your brother shot an arrow at my face!" I cried, waving my hands in outrage. I could hear my voice rising, but I could not control it. I'd never been this furious in my life, and it was all directed at him.

"And then! Let's not forget! I watched you murder your FATHER! I saw those cold, dead eyes stare into my soul! Don't you know how upsetting that was to witness?!"

"I did what had to be done in the moment."

"At my emotional expense!" Now it was his turn to be angry at me.

"You don't know what I've had to do just to get away from them! They made my life hell! And just when I thought I was free from their shadow… I- I had to do something permanent."

"I'm sorry you got involved! That was never supposed to happen, and it didn't go as I planned. But you have to understand, I had to. Drastic moments call for drastic measures."

I stared at him for a long time, flashes his father's face crossing his. They had the same face, but Eyarr did not carry the same kind of darkness that his father had.

"I don't blame you for being angry… I know what I did was awful to witness, and I hope you can eventually forgive me… but I hope you also understand… why…"

My heart ached for him. I did understand, but couldn't accept it.