Winter couldn't sleep. Not because he 'just couldn't sleep', but because his mind was dragging him down so far that sleep wasn't even an option. He was tired, physically and mentally. He was tired of his nightmares, his fears, his temper. He was tired of almost everything. Everything he ever did always seemed to hurt someone, mentally or physically. He couldn't control his actions sometimes, and that came with many consequences, some that he had already faced, some that he hadn't come to yet. Everything about himself - as his mother used to tell him when he was extremely little - was worthy of being a prince, but Winter thought otherwise almost every day. How could someone like him be a prince? How could someone who snapped at everyone, someone who had almost no patience, someone who held grudges though the problem had already been solved, someone who wasn't confident enough in himself, be a prince? Princes were supposed to be kind, patient, forgiving, and confident that things would be alright. A prince handled things as calmly and as peacefully as possible, but here Winter was, shouting when he didn't get his way. How could an IceWing like him be worthy of anything? 

"Winter," a voice like a melody cut into his thoughts, and he jumped. He turned to find Moon standing in the doorway of their cave, one eyebrow raised and a worried but skeptical look on her face. "I called you three times. What are you thinking about now?" 

Winter almost exhaled in relief when she asked that question. He knew that he had Skyfire on him, just in his pouch on his arm, but he always feared that Moon could see through the wall that the Skyfire created around one's mind. He always feared that she would hear all the loathing thoughts he had toward himself and other dragons, and then she would scold him for it and leave him. 

She couldn't leave him.

"Nothing," Winter lied, tearing his eyes away from Moon's as though she could read his thoughts through his eyes. He realized that his talons were shaking and shoved them under his pillow that was by his head. 

"That's not true," Moon said, walking out of the doorway and crawling onto the empty space next to the IceWing. "You can't be thinking of nothing. You're mind is always busy." She tipped her head at him, and he sighed in relief when she settled next to his wings. 

"It's ... non of your concern," Winter said, avoiding her eyes again. He flipped his tail a few times, and she raised an eyebrow at him again. 

"Whatever you were thinking," she said, "it made your face look like you were debating if you were going to jump into the ocean and stay there." Her voice was soft and soothing as she reached under Winter's pillow, grabbed his talons in hers, then squeezed gently. 

"That's not what I was thinking," Winter told her, finally meeting her eyes with his own raised eyebrow. 

"It looked depressing," Moon said. "Please tell me what's going through your head, Winter. I want to see if I can help." Her tail moved, then it was wrapped around his. Her face was pleading and concerned, and Winter fought back a shaky sigh.

"Moon..." Winter started after a few moments of silence, but he paused because he didn't know how to finish his sentence. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and tried again. "How do you love someone like me? Do you even love me?" He knew he sounded so, so stupid, but he had to ask the question. He knew that Qibli had liked Moon for a long time, and because Winter didn't want to hurt the NightWing more than he already had before, he was going to let Qibli have her. But Moon chose Winter, and the IceWing still didn't know the real reason. 

"Winter," Moon whispered, her voice betraying shock that he asked a question like that. "Oh, Winter." She didn't finish her sentence, if it was going to even be one, because she buried her face into Winter's shoulder and grabbed his other talons with hers. After another few moments of silence, she said quietly: "Of course I do. Of course I do, Winter. I love someone like you because under all the fury and anger, there's a kind dragon. Someone who forgives, someone who loves, someone who cares. You love me, don't you? That's enough for me. I know you may have a temper, but we're working on that, remember? You asked me to help you, so I am. Winter, of course I love you. Of course I do." 

Winter felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, fought them back, and rested his head on Moon's. He couldn't believe that she'd said something like that, yet he knew with all his heart that she would. The first time she'd said that she loved him, he was so down that he believed she was saying it to make him feel better about himself.

But this time, she sounded sure, and he was sure.

This time, he knew that it was true.

Of course she loved him.