Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

We were kids when you asked me if I could stay over for the weekend. As usual, you'd spent the whole magic class practicing spells in the back of the lilac-painted room instead of listening to the teacher - you found him boring.

(It wasn't untrue, but only you were bold enough to say it out loud.)

He'd spend most of the class chastising you at first, but soon he'd gave up and would only mention you muttering 'wasted potential’ or 'kids these days, only interested in dark arts'.

(You heard that, as much as everyone did ; he was wrong, but too narrow to understand you, so you just ignored him. Just like you did with everyone.)

You read those books about dark magic when you were bored. I knew that because every time professors would turn around to look for some spell or explanation in their grimoires - each of them being as heavy as Fearless' armor, dusty as the Desert of Karma, boring as the teachers were themselves, - I would catch you from the corner of my eye. Sometimes you were sleeping, ash blonde hair falling down to cover your whole face, sometimes you used the exact same position to annoy our classmates unnoticed - those times where Brendon or Edward suddenly yelped and you silently laughed as they got reprimanded. And every time, I recognized the slight smell of smoke that came from your spell. Sometimes you'd simply use magic to rock your chair back and forth, just because you could, and each of us knew you wouldn't fall doing it - unlike that time where Chris almost broke his arm doing so. Sometimes you read old grimoires, covers as black as the darkest waters from the Snake's Swamp, and I saw you frown trying to decipher the writings - I knew those weren't spells ; just history and legends of long lost relics from your Kingdom.
Rare were the times when they talked about those in class ; you just wanted to understand what no one else did.

(How'd your ancestors come to create these artifacts ; how'd they become so corrupted. You wanted to understand what could've ever impacted them that much.)

(It was feelings. It's always been feelings. But none of us were old enough to understand.)

(But I wish we could've. I really do.)

I don't even really get how we first talked to each other ; of course there was your teasing, rolling of eyes and sarcastic comments : of course there was my discreet laughs, quick glances you always caught and playful counterarguments, but I never quite got the hang of how you came to ask me to come over. But you did anyway, and your rare but sincere smile as I said yes proved everyone's wary remarks wrong.

(Your coal eyes usually burning to devour the world and all its knowledge had been reduced to a tranquil flame that ignited a spark.)

(I didn't know at the time. I couldn't have. And I ignored it for a long time.)

(But again, we were too young.)

They were all suspicious of you ; some said you were too shady, others said no one from the Wicked Land was to be trusted. I think they feared you. Even the rare ones that talked to you — Speak Now, whom I saw with you in Invocation class on the hill next to mine when I sparred with 1989, or even Edward, when the princess of the Land couldn't summon her dragon no more- were still careful around you. 1989 once told me she'd seen you invoke a firesnake ; I thought that was brave of you. She said no one should have that kind of power.

(I never agreed with any of them.)

Most of them thought so because you were just a lost girl from an evil-rooted Land who, somehow, had more power than them - royalty for some, noble for others. None of us had gotten here by accident but you, thanks to a Priestess everyone believed to be insane. You’d ended up in our class because she’d been considerate enough to take care of you as a child, even when your own kind didn’t want you.

(As they said ; as if you weren’t human, as if you were worth as much as the snakes inhabiting the swamp.)

But despite all the rumors, everyone knew your connection to magic ran deeper than it did with any of us. And they hated you for being so talented.

(Everyone except me ; I stood in awe when you made apples grow from nearby trees after school - the ones whose fruits always rotted before we could ever taste them.)

I knew they thought I was naive, nothing more than the kind and foolish girl who thought everyone was good ; the perfect golden child. Only 1989 knew me well, but even she thought I could trust anyone.

(Now that I think of it, she wasn't totally wrong. But there's a difference between trust and blindness ; one can be broken. I'm eager to trust, but also to understand. Something only you knew.)

(I think you forgot, now.)

I went over to your house back when the road was still covered in snow. I remember because the snowflakes were still falling, and some had landed on your nose turned as pink as my cheeks. And I followed your path, slightly behind you, and you'd stopped for me to catch up and addressed me with your first words since we were alone.

"Do you want my gloves ?"

My hands were red from the cold - I had left my gloves in 1989's bag - and you'd noticed. You had barely turned your head towards me, so I'd taken a step forward to end up right next to you. The snow had crunched under my boots, and the cold was making it impossible to feel my nose. You'd smiled as I blew hot air into my hands.

"If I take them, you won't have any," I'd made you notice.

"I'm used to the cold," you shrugged.

"I'll only take one then."

"Why?" you'd frowned. You hated things you didn't understand.

"So that your hands aren't too cold."

"But that's dumb," you argued. "It defeats the whole purpose of the gloves. And your second hand will freeze!"

"Trust me," I'd said.

You did, handing me the cloth warily as I smiled at you.

(I didn't know, back then, how much that meant to you.)

(Now I know you wouldn’t have done that for anyone else.)

I put it on and held your uncovered hand with mine : you tensed first, as I waited for you to react, then relaxed and muttered nonsensical things as your cheeks turned crimson.You barely spoke the whole way to your house.

I laughed silently all the way at the newfound color adorning your face.

___

I visited every two weeks after that. We'd spend the weekend reading books and showing each other spells we'd learned - back when our styles weren't so drastically different. We were all alone, your tutor often gone to run some errands - I’d learned from you it meant failing at making people believe in the Goddess. It had become a routine for everyone, and as weird as it was to the whole school, we'd started being closer there, too. I would make the professors sigh, we'd argue playfully in the middle of classes we were too good to follow, and you would actually take notes when needed.

I didn't hide my glances anymore.

You looked at me, too, more than often ; there was complicity, as annoying as it was for the whole world, as mad as it made 1989, as tiring it was for everyone back at the Daylight Palace - because I talked about you.

In my letters to my parents, on the other side of the Daylight Kingdom, to my mentors when they asked about my life out of courtesy.

(I didn’t care about their opinion, nor about the fact that none of them actually wanted to hear about me.)

(And I liked it, not holding back my emotions for once. You'd made me discover a whole part of me I didn't know, the one the world had told me to throw away. The one you liked most about me.)

From then, I think your house was my favorite place inside the realm. There was nature, wilderness, unpaved paths and you. There was adventure, the scent of rain, our laughs. There was the old stone house right before the forest, the one we would fix up whenever needed to sleep there.

Do you remember the day we went to visit the swamp? We were bored, and the snowmen we'd built on the hill near your house had since long melted, replaced by the scent of newly bloomed flowers and fresh buds all around. We'd looked up every species of flower we'd found, but diversity wasn't a word often used to describe the flora in the Snake queendom.

"How about we visit the swamp?" You'd asked me, grinning from ear to ear. With me, you could, and you never held yourself back - and every time I admired the way your eyes narrowed and a dimple found its way down your left cheek as your face colored with the slightest shade of pink. I don't know if you knew I'd accept or if you were just bluffing, but your coal eyes ignited as I said yes.

We waited nightfall to enter the woods - you found it thrilling, and I was okay with whatever you liked. The trees blocked any light the usual clouds let pass, standing menacingly three times our height ; you laughed at it all, assuring me no lantern was needed as you knew the forest like the back of your hand. We’d walked past dark leaves and large roots, shoes covered in mud as we stepped on rare chunks of grass. The more we went into the forest, the harder it was to go on without thorns scraping at our feet. We went our way silently, your hand brushing mine as you turned back to make sure I could keep up. It took about 20 minutes to get to the swamp, and when we did your arms were covered in cuts and bruises from your sleeveless shirt. It didn’t bother you ; not a lot of things did. I was wearing a white one, long-sleeved ; the cloth fancied at the Palace had turned into a mess of soil and cuts after an evening of fun. I liked it better this way.

(This time spent with you was worth a few reprimands.) (Time spent with you was worth everything.)

There was fog, so thick we could barely see our own feet, so you'd slowed down your pace to match mine. The mess of roots and soil had turned to mud our feet drowned in. And right next to us was a body of water, darker than the night sky, deeper even than your eyes of fire.

"Here you go."

Your voice was of but a whisper, unusually soft as you told me :

"Legends say it's here that the last King fell to shield the world from the Cursed Ring."

I knew about that story : you'd told me all about it a million times. It was in this lake turned gray that the only King of the Tayrealm had died because of the Snake Ring — a cursed artifact of obsidian and poison forged by the Elder Woodvale Witch, whom cast a spell on it as to make its bearer unbelievably stronger, but also drained of all their positive emotions. It was said it was her who'd created all 10 Legendary Artifacts, as well as the Crown of the Realm.

(You consumed those stories as a fire would a book. I listened to it all as I did to the sound of tranquil flames.)

I could've sworn the ancient lake was an abyss, wouldn't it have been for the rare glints of moonlight reflected in troubled waters. I tried not to think about the creatures crawling underneath. And I looked over at you, and you smiled, eyes locked on the black hole as if it would reveal all of your Land's secrets.

And I saw you. Saw your slight smile as you admired the river of coal that matched your eyes, as you saw reflections of a past I couldn't comprehend. I saw your hair cupping your face in the messiest yet gentlest of ways, mud and scratches and leaves all of the same. I saw the dead Land come alive as you wore it all over your body, proudly and effortlessly and it felt like you were whole.

And there wasn't any noise, only us and us alone in the heart of the Corrupted Land. And I swear right there and then my breathing stopped and my heart skipped a hundred beats as you just were and I studied you.

And it felt like eternity.
And I thought maybe living forever wasn't such a bad thing. And I thought I would do anything if it meant staying with you like this.

(I had all your answers in the palm of my hand.)

You took your eyes off the swamp and turned to look at me, and I breathed in and out again. You looked at me and my heart beat, and you gave me my life back as I realized only a few seconds had passed.

(The answers slipped away from my fingers.)

"It's getting cold," you'd said.

I hadn't even noticed my own shivers. You approached me and I still couldn't take my gaze off you. Your fingers entwined with mine, and you smiled to me :

"Let's go back home."

(Maybe you'll find them one day lying by the swamp.)

We went back to the house of stone past midnight — home, you'd called it, and I realized it fitted this place more than any other I'd ever set foot in.

(This time, I was the one who didn't say a word the whole way there.)

And I still remember how your eyes reflected the candles' soft glow when we laid in bed, when you looked at me and whispered so softly :

"Lover?"

Your voice was so quiet I thought I'd dreamed it. But I looked at you, so vulnerable, letting your facade crumble away in front of me, and I knew it was real.

"Yes?"

I heard the tiny crack in your voice as you asked :

"We're friends, right?"

"Of course we are," I heard myself answer, the words escaping my mouth before I could even think of it.

Then you smiled gently, and my thoughts stopped as I smiled back.

(It's nice to have a friend.)

Chapter Text

That was soon after that I had to go back to the Daylight House more frequently. I hated it : its people always looking down at the world, its walls of sick rose. I liked lilac better. I liked rough stone and ivy better. I liked being with you better. Now I went home with you about once a month, and we always tried to make the best out of those moments.

It was the first year of my training to become a knight - one year after the end of our mutual classes, when everyone had gone back to their own Queendom - that we'd started playing twenty questions. The first time, we'd gone up the roof in summer air in simple shirts ; it was a great view, from whence we could spot both the Daylight Castle and the York Tower. But instead of watching the scenery, I found myself looking at you - and you did the same, smiling as our faces laid a few inches apart.

"First, have you been stressed out lately?" you started, burning gaze gauging me.

"Yeah. How'd you notice ?" My voice was but of a whisper, as curious as I always was of you and your wonders.

"You've got eyebags and your hair isn't as neat as it used to be. Take this…"

You pulled a strand and tucked it behind my ear.

"You wouldn't usually let it run loose."

I laughed, cheeks flushed as your hand lingered there.

"You’re right. The training’s tough, and without 1989 I probably would've burnt out ; she says I work too much. We have to wake up at 5 everyday, but I think it's only normal to get up a bit earlier, you know ? I don't think doing more than others is what's going to kill me, but she always ends up taking some of my chores, to ‘ease me up’, as she says…”

I trailed off as I noticed how much I was rambling, but you had the same peaceful look on your face — the one of quiet contentment that you wore when we were together, when I embarrassed myself and you found it endearing. So I knew exactly what you were going to say :

“You're cute.” Nonetheless, I felt my face heat up against your palm, fingers tracing delicate patterns from my neck to my earlobe. “Go on.”

“The thing is, I feel like no one there really likes each other. But I'm thinking, if we have to spend the next five years together, we might as well, right ? And I know for now it's mostly because only the best ones of each promotion will get to be actual Knights and not guards, but I don't think it's a reason to be mean to each other all the time.” I paused and looked at you, messy hair over abyss eyes, and asked : “But how are you? I mean, stressed out or anything? Last time you told me the Priestess wanted you to succeed her."

You winced at her mention and put your hand away, leaving my cheek cold.

"It's… complicated. Obviously, it's stressful, but we often have disagreements."

“Wanna talk about it?”

“It's nothing, just…” You looked at me, uncertain, before saying softly : “I don't believe in anything. Nor in the Goddess nor in Karma.”

That was new. I knew most people from the Snake Kingdom had lost faith after the King's fall, but I thought that you were a believer, raised by a Priestess. But again, I hadn't questioned it ; my childhood spent amongst nobles had made me assume everyone believed at least in the Goddess, if not in Karma as well. I remained silent ; you sensed the shift in the mood, and tried to ease it up.

“Plus, I love it here! I don't want to leave just to spend my days preaching to the boring people on the other side of the forest. They already hate me enough.” You playfully nudged my arm. “And I wouldn't get to see my favorite Knight then.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at those words.

“Yeah, about that…” Your face fell ; I saw your smile turn into a look of pure apprehension as you waited for me to speak. “I probably won't be able to come next month,” I let out after a while. “They’re not letting anyone leave the castle if it's not to see their families.”

“...Oh.”

It was strange ; usually every word from your lips was meaningful and held some secret for me to decipher. But here you were, mouth agape, looking at me for some sort of reassurance you knew wouldn't come. You turned your head to the sunset in a tentative to hide your hurt, but I saw the way your jaw clenched, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly as your hand tensed ; I felt my stomach turn to knots as I watched you in silence.

“Rep,” I finally pleaded. “Please don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad,” you whispered. Then you turned to me and I saw the way your eyes glistened. “I just don't want you to go.”

I hated this ; I hated that I had to leave you alone like this. I hated that I couldn’t call you my family when you knew me better than anyone else.

“I know it’s unfair, but I’ll be back.” I took your hand and brought your fingers to my lips, then whispered : “I promise.”

I kissed your knuckles ; and you looked at me as if I had your heart in the palm of my hand. And your eyes were so, so soft it felt like you were about to break. So I kissed your hand again, and you leaned in, so close your lips brushed our entwined fingers.

“Lover ?”

My breath hitched, and you brought our hands down, your gaze so intense I felt like I was burning.

“Yeah?” I managed to choke out.

“Are we friends?”

You leaned in just a bit closer, and I knew I’d be doomed did I stop looking into your eyes. I saw yours briefly glancing down — just enough for my heart to catch fire. The weight of the unspoken lingered as I felt your hand tense in mine, as you waited for me to speak ; then I breathed in. I breathed in, and I remembered what we'd just said ; I had to leave. And soon, you would too, and the months of absence would pile up : life was as cruel as it was.

I couldn't afford to suffer any more than that.

“Of course we are,” I answered, forcing the words out of my mouth before I could change my mind. Then you smiled gently — and I swear I can still see the way the fire in your eyes turned to ashes when you haunt me at night.

(Every time, I wonder if I should've said no.)

(If you would have something to believe in, had I chosen you.)

Chapter Text

I went back to the Palace a week later, and it would be a lie to say I wasn't a bit relieved : you hadn't said a thing, but I read in the way you dropped my hand every time I held yours how you were holding back. And that was but the point of us ; what were we if not honest with each other ? If not our souls stripped bare ; just a Knight and a witch whose paths had crossed due to hazardous circumstances.

I hated that I was the one who had turned this week of promised heaven into a cruel counting of days to my departure. And I thought, those nights, of how I could've told you the worst thing you'd ever heard instead.

And I still think of those hundred thrown out speeches I almost said to you. Of how you told me you were fine when you got away from me. Of how I let you down so easily.

(And you just watched it happen.)

It was too late ; I went back to cold towers and hours of ruthless training, advanced magic classes and daily letter writing — to my parents, still, but also to you.

I told you of my exhausting routine, of the friend I had found in 1989, of the way I missed you. Mindlessly asking about your routine and plants we noticed once near the swamp. About cracks and ivy near a window, stains we once left on a wall. All to get to drink more words from your response. All to get to have more of you.

I spent nights laying awake wondering if you thought of me, too, the way I did of you. Shifting under the sheets trying to recall your scent, the graze of your soft hand. Missing your warmth in bed.

So I drowned myself in training and tasks, hoping to pull myself away from the sea of thoughts flooding my mind every second ; but what can a raft do against a raging storm?

I woke before dawn, all to read and practice spells I already knew. My eyes remembering annotations you wrote down in copies of the exact same books, recalling yours damaged by hours you’d spend flipping through pages over and over again, surrounded by multiple artifacts whose use only you could remember.

Thought of the way your skin turned amber in the soft glow of candlelights, dried blood at your fingertips from the thousand paper-thin cuts that didn’t stop you from reading half-burnt books from ancient times. Papers slipped in between two pages, scribbled translations and connections to old stories only you knew. Words written in between spells ; new incantations - corrections even, all spread across grimoires you’d made yours, like stars in skies we watched hand in hand.

I practiced spells thinking of how yours basked your face in the softest of hues ; of how it made you grin whenever you cast a new one, your proud grin setting my heart ablaze with one look from your fiery eyes. The way they narrowed as you laughed, calling my name as another of your experiments succeeded.

You frowned whenever it didn’t ; you hated being wrong. You’d rewrite everything on new pages with the quill I’d given you, burning the old ones with the simplest of spells ; barely a flip of a hand now.

I worked myself to exhaustion, till your letter reached my febrile hands, till I laid appeased in my bed, storm now soft waves bringing me home. Until I wrote back and the tide pulled me in again.

You wrote back, and I let the lamp burn ; hoping I'd return to you, with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned : I read you. Read your words throughout pages and small splatters of ink, because what else can you do when half of your soul stands so far from you?

The smell of smoke and trees in my bottom drawer, I checked a few years back ; still true, now part of the empty room I’d called mine.

(It was the one thing you didn’t destroy.)

So I reread your words until I knew them all, carved into my mind like the way your eyes gleamed under the moonlight.

Holding my breath the way I'd been doing it since I left.

(That’s what you do without a friend.)

Chapter Text

It had been months ; and finally I went back to you. Eagerly traveled to the house of stone, overly delighted to get to enjoy your company once more. I arrived ; you'd changed. What used to be late night talks turned to soliloquies, full of sour words from your end about queendoms and everything you deemed so wrong. I protested, you struck back ; and your tongue was way sharper than mine. You pointed out every of my flaws then left for your study as, reeling, I cried myself to sleep.

Then day came and it felt like nothing but a dream, wasn’t it for my drenched pillow ; each morning you were back next to me, warm and charming as I’d known for years : and never I asked or talked, afraid to set you off again. You were here, and our time together was dear to me ; how could I but cherish every glance my way? Surely not even the best of fools would’ve risked breaking perfection into a frown ; surely I couldn’t address our fights. Once I did, and you denied it : sending me off saying I’d grown accustomed to the Palace’s devious ways. I answered, saying maybe I wouldn’t seem so sensitive did you have a bit more etiquette.

I’d struck a nerve.

You shouted, went on and on about how I was no different from everyone else - how condescending I was, always hiding under false pretenses, of how I should go back to my real friend didn't I deem you proper enough.

"Maybe you just shouldn't come here anymore." I froze. And finally you looked at me again ; and there you stood, rage unsheathed, with that glare others knew so well.

"... What?" This seemed unreal. There was no way I had heard that right ; and my voice didn't even feel like it was coming out of my own throat as I asked : "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Your furrowed brows, your clenched jaw ; I saw a vein pulse at your temple. Never had I seen you so mad.

"You have your training. Your queendom," you spit out that last word, disgust flashing through your eyes. "a family. 1989." Your voice was bitter, resenting of all the things I'd had without ever asking. "Plenty already." You paused, pursued ; "I thought you were different." Your voice softened the slightest bit. "Turns out you're not.”

You went back to writing without a word, grabbing a new parchment to write on ; it disintegrated in a burst of flames, flash of green heat. I took a step back, heart pounding, as you simply sighed and took a deep breath. I heard your breathing steady before you took your quill again, heart in my throat. "...What was that?”

You shook your head, groaned. “Nothing important. Just the artifacts.”

“The artifacts what ?” You turned back to me, rolling your eyes, face stern ; but never could you turn down an opportunity to explain the things you knew.

“They're all magic imbued. Confer power to their wielder.” You sighed, took hold of the nearest one, an emerald pendant ; the gem was fractured in its middle, shards missing. “This one was talked about in Florence’s eigth book. The jade necklace that helped crops grow?” I nodded ; satisfied, you pursued. “They've all been fractured at some point by the people on the other side, during witches’ trials.” I saw the crease between your eyebrows form once more. “Idiots thought that'd help,” you mumbled as I remembered our classes.

“...It sets magic loose.” You nodded.

“And it goes to the nearest receptacle. Witch, sometimes animals or even vegetation… And the flow differs given each object, some take years to empty. Point is, this time I’m it. And since there's so much, my mood influences it.”

“So…” I scrunched my nose, doing my best to tie it all together.

“You make my emotions fluctuate. Way too much.” All of your words swirled in my head, like a storm waiting to strike ; and then it hit me.

“And that's why I'm leaving.” I felt a lump form in my throat.

“That's why you're leaving,” you confirmed, tranquil. I looked at you, baffled, so close to pinching myself ; this couldn't be happening.

“For your studies !?” All of my emotions resurfaced all at once as my voice rose ; it has always been so. Your books, your quills, ink stained hands and transcripts, lost pages and hours spent deciphering old writings. And right there, I loathed all of it. Always been nothing but stars when you were reaching for the moon - always there but never acknowledged, as you wrote. Ghostly presence longing for your attention, condemned but to admire you. And like a fading star I bursted out. “You’re willing to let me go just for all this!?” I grabbed the nearest pile of manuscripts I'd spent hours just watching you write so neatly, admiring you in dim light, eyes all on you. Always on you, as you spoke so softly to explain relations between two lost authors, between different spells, as you took your time to explain to me all you'd found out about firesnakes and the castle within the swamp, all about your kingdom's history - your gaze never meeting mine. You could as well have been talking to a ghost, and I was sick of it. “Aren't we-”

You let out a bitter laugh, putting your quill down. “How hypocritical. I'm waiting for you here for months on end, Lover. And what do I get in return? Letters of how good your life is. Of how you're gonna get to be so respected by everyone, of how lovely everyone finds you,” you said harshly. “You're willing to let me go for everyone's approval, because you're just a-”

“I don't have a choice! I was raised to become Knight, you know that. I can't just leave my queendom or-”

“How convenient.”You chuckled as you slowly got up to face me ; no matter how I'd outgrown you over the years, you still were so intimidating. “Because you think I have a choice? You think I like living like this? Here, alone daily, with nothing but books around, just every day, every passing second hoping you'd be there again for just one damn fraction of a moment!? You're all I have! So your queendom? I loathe it.” Your face contorted accordingly, eyes narrowed. “With every single fiber of my being! All just pompous celebrations and bowing to some woman that simply happened to be born in the right family. I was found in a damn forest! I was found too tired to even cry, just a baby in a cloth that anyone, anyone on the other side of the other side of this damn Kingdom was ready to throw into the fire ! You don't know what it's like, do you?” You took a step forward, tearing your work off my hands to slam it back down onto your desk. “Surviving because some crazy woman decided to adopt you. Rejected again later because again, your blood is too dirty for you damn higher ups. Then I find you. And it feels right. So right.” You sighed. “And then you choose your side. And you keep going on about how amazing your life is and how you barely have time for me anymore-”

“But you're all I care about!” I let out at the blatant accusation. “I write for you almost every day, rewrite because it's not good enough for you. Because you're worth so much more and every of my thoughts goes to you and when we finally meet again you're just-”

“And how about your fabulous friends? You've always been just so close to 1989. Since you were kids, too, and I bet she's still such a-”

“This isn't about her.”

“So you're defending her now.”

“And what does that mean?”

“You just like her so much, don't you? You clearly don't need me when you have her. And I bet sharing that room back there isn't that bad, is it?”

My cheeks turned crimson at the implications. “Are you saying I'm a-”

“I don't know. Are you?” Arms crossed, eyebrow raised, so tranquil. So mad. So gorgeous.

“I'm not.”

You stared, frown faltering for the slightest fraction of a second - and then your face closed up again, walls right back up the way they were with everyone else as you hissed. “You can go then. I'm sure any noble man would love to have you as trophy. Such a grand Knight.”

I hated the dishonesty you were afflicting me with ; and for the first time I had some kind of understanding towards my peers back at the Palace and the condescending way they'd always treat you and your people. Anger, too ; unspeakable ire rising within me at the disdain you were subjecting me to : and if one had to pity the other, shouldn't it have been me? But that thought alone made me freeze as I realized you'd managed to turn the sincerest of feelings to perverse, turning the sweetest of affections to despisal, dearest to my heart now nothing but vile to my eyes ; your hatred served to prove you right, and I loathed it, how you pushed me to that point. And how dared you pretend you held a place for me in your heart? When I held your face so dearly in mine, cherishing memories of you oh so preciously, always on the front of my mind — I would've devoted every of my moments to you, did you allow me to ; alas you did not see me, coveted gaze ever so fleeing under the scrutiny of mine.

This time it met yours : unfaltering, yet so cold - so distant. I felt maroon rise to my cheeks as you remained stoic, maelstrom of emotions rushing through as tidal wave over calm shore, crashing onto sun-kissed sand : and water seeped through my lashes, vision blurred as finally it came over me, surging under the treacherous mask of tears you couldn’t even have laid claim to. And sobs had to wreck me and my trembling frame for moments during before you even took a step ; Goddess knows I was weak, and despite a feigned repulsion at your touch, I couldn’t help but fall into your arms as you soothingly murmured my name.

“I'm sorry.” Your apology remained unanswered ; what was I to say? You'd made your choice, and I couldn't do a thing to please you other than comply : then your hands cradled my cheeks, calloused thumbs gently wiping away remnants of tears as my feelings subdued. “It's the right choice,” you murmured — for you or for me, I couldn't have told : and I don't even think you even knew who it was that you were trying to convince. I still remember the way your hair fell over your face in the most indulgent of fashions ; how you glanced away a fraction of a second as I pulled it back, tucking it behind your ear : and the vulnerability in your gaze, esoteric abyss where emerald now swirled.

“I’ll miss you.” It seemed the emotion had clogged my throat, dimming my words as I spoke ; for missing you was but an euphemism of the neverending ache taking over my soul whenever you weren't near : and making you understand the pain of the absence of you would've been adding insult to injury. Unfair to the both of us : what joy or comfort could your tears have brought me? Or rather, quiet longing glances when you thought me engrossed in a task ; impenetrable silence, when I spoke of leaving, and fleeing gaze when mine tried meeting yours, as you did all those times before whenever my departure was near : but this time it was for good.

It seemed that night the both of us shied away from each other ; and I was afraid if I held you I wouldn't ever be able to let go. So we both laid, in silence, in the dark instigated by the very candles we'd blown : and the weight in my chest growing just like the dread for the day to come. And you didn't say a word, as I waited ; and I nonetheless fell asleep under the glow of the cold moon.

The next morning took place under the same wordless veil ; and I ached, as you deprived me of your words, of your touch, already separated from me : each second without your eyes on me another twist of your dagger to my agonizing heart. But you bid me farewell, then ; and I caught you trembling as you embraced me once more — one last time, I remember thinking, — and at the hearing of your breath I knew it broke you just as much.

(Truth is, I'd like to say it brought me nothing but inexplicable sorrow — yet even now, the memory fills me with joy and relief.)

And I left.