Noah
Noah didn’t speak at first. His fingers curled into Vi'dore's thick fur, the warmth beneath his palm grounding him—though it did little to lift the weight pressing against his chest.
Deimos hadn’t made Halo a prison. Noah knew that, and he’d thought it more than once. The Citadel had always been a haven under his rule, not a cage. A wall only trapped people when no one stood at the gate—and Deimos had never stopped standing watch. But saying so wouldn’t ease the tightness in the other man’s chest, wouldn’t silence the doubts clawing at him from the inside. Noah understood that, too.
For Noah, the Family’s offer had been poison dressed as mercy. He could feel it in his bones. They would never have kept their word. They’d have waited for Halo to go soft, for its people to grow comfortable—and then they would have moved in, quiet and cold and certain. Or worse: they’d have turned it into a pen, drawing in the rest of the world’s frightened until the slaughter could begin like a corral of lambs. Without Deimos, the gods’ protection would never have taken root to protect the Citadel from the family on Halo's terms.
Okay. he sighed over the bond, his thoughts already shifting toward next steps. They should know about this. It might make them move faster.
Because now, even more than before, it wasn’t just Ronin and Remi's people on the line.
It was their families--Halo's innocent.
Deimos hadn’t made Halo a prison. Noah knew that, and he’d thought it more than once. The Citadel had always been a haven under his rule, not a cage. A wall only trapped people when no one stood at the gate—and Deimos had never stopped standing watch. But saying so wouldn’t ease the tightness in the other man’s chest, wouldn’t silence the doubts clawing at him from the inside. Noah understood that, too.
For Noah, the Family’s offer had been poison dressed as mercy. He could feel it in his bones. They would never have kept their word. They’d have waited for Halo to go soft, for its people to grow comfortable—and then they would have moved in, quiet and cold and certain. Or worse: they’d have turned it into a pen, drawing in the rest of the world’s frightened until the slaughter could begin like a corral of lambs. Without Deimos, the gods’ protection would never have taken root to protect the Citadel from the family on Halo's terms.
Okay. he sighed over the bond, his thoughts already shifting toward next steps. They should know about this. It might make them move faster.
Because now, even more than before, it wasn’t just Ronin and Remi's people on the line.
It was their families--Halo's innocent.
are you out there on the front lines
or at home keeping score?
or at home keeping score?
