A wooden door. The heavy wooden door of his office. It smelled like oak and metal, oiled metal, because he had gotten the hinges oiled yesterday. The door had been crying for far too long, so it was about time for it to be done. The door. It had whined and cried with its faint sound that still seemed to prick through the air, poking his brain each time it was opened or closed.
The door. It reminded him of so much. He was reminded of the first time he had sat there, in his office, as the Captain of the Crimson Lion Kings, and she had sat across the table from him with a courteous smile. And all he was able to think to ask from her that time, had been if she was of noble birth or not.
He shook his head. What a foolish question to ask...
But she had smiled that day. She had smiled at him. She had teased him. And... she had laughed. And that laugh had been so sweet. It had been sweeter than anything he had tasted, much more comforting than any song that he had heard. It had made him feel warm, butterflies swirl in his stomach, and a wave of every good thing that had happened to him, wash over him at once.
His lips tugged up into a smile as tears started pushing the backs of his eyes. That smile...
Then the conversation, after the first night they had slept together... They had talked. And she had smiled again. She had held his heart on the night before, and she had smiled to him. She smiled like angels ought to smile.
She had smiled...
And... I told her to keep my brother safe...
A memory of something he'd never really forget. The memory of asking her something, only to have her do just that. She had done so, out of her own volition, and yet... The memory of what he had felt when she hadn't returned, was still far too vivid.
And the door. The door had seen so much.
He placed the fingers of his left hand onto the surface of it.
I should get it sand too... So that no one gets splinters from it...
But the door didn't budge. The door. Didn't say anything. It had seen so much of them two already. It knew them so well, and yet, it never said anything. It just was. It had always just been. And once upon a time it had been between them. Though it had never been locked. It had never prevented either of them from simply opening it, and walking in, or out. Depending from which side you were coming from. It never prevented them, either of them, from reaching onto the other side.
The door simply was. It didn't judge. It didn't prevent. It just was. And yet, Fuegoleon found himself apprehensive to open it. Which was absurd. He had opened it. So many times before, he had opened it. He had... they had... breached a gap between them. Him and her. But now... the door.
The door was silent, but it almost seemed as if it was mocking him.
There was another knock. It was soft and silent, asking to be let in, despite the door being unlocked. And she knew that he was just on the other side. Her mana was prominent, and so was his. They both knew who was on the other side. The mana made no mistake.
He gazed up to the ceiling for a moment before taking a deep breath. The fingers of his left hand lifted from the wooden surface, as his right hand settled onto the cold door knob. He turned the handle and the door started creeping open. There was a click of the clasp, but it was followed by a soundless flow. Not even his breathing rang in the air, as the sight that was revealed to him from the other side of the door, came into vision little by little.
The tears that were hidden behind his eyes began burning. A lump got lodged in his throat, preventing him from saying anything. If he really had any right words to say. What even were the right words? If there were such, he lost them the moment he looked into her green eyes.
But. They weren't the eyes he had seen in his memories just a moment prior. These eyes were tired, and deep; her eyes had always seemed deep, but this time they were empty, as if voids. There was no smile in those eyes. Nor was there one over her lips. Her hair, her beautiful strawberry locks that had flowed like silk through his fingers once upon a time, were gathered into a low bun. And she seemed composed. But the way she seemed distant, and cold, made him wonder if it was all for show.
"Hey..." she whispered, the syllable flowed past her lips, as if raining down onto the floor between them.
She knows...
"Hey..." he replied, wondering what he could say. If I had had more time I-, I could have thought of something to say... "You took care of affairs quickly." The statement escaped from him, tripping as it did so. No. That-, that sounds like I wouldn't-, like I wouldn't want her here.
"It's not all up to me," she replied with a silent tone.
"M-mmm..." he only mumbled in agreement.
She paused for a moment, the same as him, as a veil, as if thick fog, of silence hung between them. "Could we..." she began, after a while, "could I... come in?"
He parted his lips without hesitation, with the intention of agreeing to her request. But then a thought occurred to him. We... could be interrupted here... So far we have been able to... Most often... Resolve our arguments here, but I can't really risk it this time.
She stayed silent, watching as his gaze turned towards the empty office for a moment.
"Could we... perhaps rather talk in our room?" He asked with the words drizzling from his lips, coated with hesitation and a tiny, almost insignificantly small glimmer of hope, as she didn't as much as blink with him calling it as 'our room'.
She only nodded as a reply before turning away and starting to head towards their room, their bedroom, the one sanctuary where they had been just them. Not lord or lady, not a captain or an ambassador. Just them. As people. The one sanctuary where they had been them, without a conflict. The one room that knew them as lovers, with no quarrels or words with vague meanings. The one room that had only seen the tender side of them.
The door to that room closed with a click, shutting them both in, to solitude. But silence still lied heavy between them. Everything they needed to say, wanted to say, it hung above their heads, ready to rain down onto them.
She shook her head while turning her gaze to the side. "Fue I-," she began.
"No, no, let me, please," he interrupted, taking a few, hasty steps closer to her.
Her head turned towards him, but her eyes were on the floor, as if she was ready spill out something that had been collecting in her for far too long already. Her lips parted again, but as she did so, he closed in the distance between them, and placed his hand onto her cheek.
His touch was warm, and gentle, so light that it felt as if he was afraid of holding her. So very fragile was his hold of her, that it was as if he feared breaking her complexion under his touch. It was as if he dreaded that his fire would crack the surface of her skin, and make all that she harboured within her spill out. But. He had to. No... He wanted to. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to run his fingers over her cheek and just... hold her.
And she felt his warmth over her. She felt how his presence washed over her, tearing open the blanket of suffocation and sorrow, letting light in. As if she had been fished out of an iced over ocean. And as she sat on the stone shore, he placed a warm, soft blanket over her shivering form.
"Please..." he asked again, and took her silence as acceptance. "I didn't want it," he began, feeling regret gnawing on him, because of starting with such a line. "Any of it," he assured her while trying to meet her gaze. "She..." he swallowed. "She looked like you, and I thought... for a moment that she was, but I-, as soon as I realized, I-, tried to push her away..."
"Fuego-"
"I know," he interrupted. "I know that I should've..." he lifted his gaze as he shook his head in search of an answer. "Done something more... I should've... Made her drop that spell. I should've made her look like herself. I should've..." He paused as he didn't want to speak out the next thing his mind came up with: I should've burned the false image of you. I should've burned you.
"You should've attacked me?" She asked, seeing where he was going with it.
"No," he insisted, shaking his head.
"But if you knew that it wasn't me?"
The lump in his throat grew as he tried to swallow her question. It was logical yes. The idea of attacking an impersonator, was logical. But how could I-... I don't-, how could I bring myself to hurt-, no... I-, I couldn't- He shook his head, unable to answer.
"That's the point of it," she replied, placing her hand onto his cheek in turn, guiding him to face her. "That's her magic. It taps into something so...." Her head swayed as she thought. "So fundamental, that fighting it is... difficult, at best."
"But I tried, my love, I know it doesn't make it right, but-"
"Dear," she shushed him. "That was my point..." she caressed his cheek with her thumb as her eyes fell from his for a moment. "Most don't even see through it. They just accept it as it is, let alone try pushing it away. And..." she swallowed, trying to keep her voice from cracking. "Because you didn't want it... and you tried to tell her 'no'. It's not... it's not on your... honour."
He blinked, letting her words sink into him as the faint glimmer, grew brighter. It was as if a bright star in the middle of a pitch-black night sky, trying to guide him.
"But just..." she continued as her brows became dressed with a prominent frown, her molars clenching together. "How... far did you two..?"
He frowned at her question for a brief second, before catching up to her train of thought. And as he did, his eyes widened in horror. He cupped her face into his hands, feeling the pressure of his burning hot tears wanting to roll down his cheeks. And the aching, gnawing guilt of something he didn't even do, but what might have happened, what.. might've happened, it ate him. The sensation ate him, carved him out, and it wasn't made any better by the look in her eyes.
Her eyes were down and to the side, while her chin tried to hang low, as low as it possibly could in his hands. A bead had started collecting in the corner of her eye, and she tensed in his hold the longer his silence continued. It was as if she was curling up inside of herself right before his eyes, which made him shake his head in horror.
A cold chill climbed up his spine, perhaps the steps that were carved into him by the previous statement. "My love..." he uttered, the words raining from him like autumn rain. "I kissed her... I'm not proud of it, but... that is all... That. Is. All. I swear it on my life that it-," his voice cracked for a moment, making his eyes shift to the ceiling for a brief second. "That is all that we... did..." He admitted, looking back at her.
Her eyes began climbing to his, one step at a time. It was as if dawn was awaking in her eyes again, with a faint glimmer of morning, breaking through the dark clouds of the night.
"I-, I... kissed her, and I held... her... But then I-, I realized that it wasn't you so I tried to push her away, but I couldn't-, so I gripped onto her with my hands, but I was trying to keep her as far as I could and I just-" he shook his head, hearing how weak his explanation sounded. "I meant that kiss for you..." A single tear rolled down his cheek with the statement, one that made him let go of her and wipe it off as soon as he felt it.
...Fuck... He cursed to himself. ... I don't want her to see me like this. I shouldn't-, I'm not this weak. I'm not a child anymore. I shouldn't cry like this...
He felt her other hand on his cheek, the very cheek he as trying to turn away from her.
"Fue... look at me," she implored with feather soft syllables while trying to turn his head to her. But he kept it still, while gritting his teeth together, trying to push the still collecting tears away. "My love... look at me," she spoke again, repeating the motion.
And as if beckoned by her testimony, by the fact that she still called him 'my love', he turned to look at her. His eyes landed back onto hers, but this time he saw life, he saw a thousand tiny suns in her eyes, beginning to shine again.
She leaned closer, her eyes shifting to his lips for a moment before returning to his eyes. Her hand stayed on his cheek as her lips inched closer to his complexion, little by little, which made him feel her warm breath glide over his skin, just before her soft lips pressed a kiss onto his jawline. And the kiss, it was brief and faint, as if one to ask if she might. But it was there. He felt it. So, when she pulled away to look at him, as if to ask if he needed her to say something to him, to tell him... anything.
His reply, however, was in the way he started leaning his head closer to hers, just as she had. A strand of his hair glided over her skin as the tip of his nose brushed against hers. His forehead rolled over hers for a brief moment, nudging her in the process. And his eyes, they stayed on her, watching her as he did so, searching for signs to pull away. But there was none.
He cupped her cheeks into his hands again as his gaze now cascaded over her, his eyes shifting between her lips and her eyes, as if to ask if he could. If he might, or if she would still want to pull away from him, hoping that she wouldn't.
But instead, she brushed her nose against his, blinking slowly as she did so. The faint, soft sensation, made a sigh of relief escape him, even if only a small one, one that he tried to contain. A wave, a rush of warmth washed over him, melting the frost that had collected over his bones, which made him feel more alive again.
His eyes shifted onto her lips for a brief moment, but the sight of her biting her lip, made him let out a low, shadow of a chuckle. He couldn't help it, and as the sound had left him, a faint breeze of dread passed through him. But as she still stayed as she had, not pulling away, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her. He kissed her in a way that made him forget the taste of air, and instead the taste of her lips became the only thing he knew. The taste of her, became the only thing he could remember.
Her lips took a hold of his, wanting to keep him near, wanting to feel him near again. She felt as if she wouldn't need to breath as long as she might feel his mouth dancing over hers. A foolish, senseless idea, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. The devils, the restrictions, the secrets she had to keep, the distance. Was it even there?
If it was, she forgot about it. It didn't exist anymore. And all that was left, was his warmth. His hands holding onto her, cherishing her, wanting to make sure that she was there. His flames caressed her as an extension of his soft lips, gliding over her, loving her, worshipping her; almost, al-most as if bleeding over her, bleeding out his gratitude and affection over her.
But their bodies needed air. They needed to breath as much as their hearts did, even if their souls would have longed for the heavenly moment to continue. The strings longed to intwine further, weave together into a rope that nothing could separate.
Her hands rested on his chin and his shoulder, while his cupped her face, and they, the two of them, looked at each other with heaving chests.
"[I love you], I really do..." he whispered as the streak on his cheek, from where the tear had travelled, glistened in the faint light of the room.
"[I love you too,]" she professed while blinking, even if only once, which made a tear roll down both of her cheeks.
"I never meant to... I tried... I really did..." he still repeated while wiping the tears, that glistened in the light of his flames, away.
"I know..." she replied. "And I should've-, I should've put more faith in you from the beginning. But I did-, really think that... you wouldn't be able to ... resist it..." she admitted while trying to shake her head in his hands. "I should've trusted you more..."
"Well it-, um... it wasn't all my own... You see, had your.. aunt? Grand-.... mother...?" He wondered while looking at her.
"Grandmother Idalia?"
"Yes... I suppose. Idalia Indomita?"
She nodded to him as a reply, and he nodded in return.
"Had she not... interfered I-, I don't want to think what... would have happened..." his gaze fell to the side for a moment as the admission rolled from him, tumbled so clumsily as his head swayed slightly from side to side, as if he was shaking his head to himself.
"You would have made to yield," she told him with syllables that were laced with melancholy.
He bit down his molars as his brows furrowed. The admission, that admission was one that he didn't want to make. The little pride he still had in all of it, he didn't want to forfeit. The idea of being made to yield... It gnawed him, irritated him, infuriated him. For it'd be a completely different matter if he chose to yield, but to be forced to yield?
"And... then you would have been forced. It wouldn't have been... you giving up at the earliest opportunity. You... fought... my love. And that's all I can ask," she spoke with slight hesitance, still trying to swallow it all herself. "And it made all the difference. Most wouldn't even have seen past it," she still continued, trying to convince both him and her herself.
His head turned towards her again; eyes looking at her, her lowered gaze, her eyes, staring into the distance, and her form, as if defeated. A thought emerged from the nothingness of his still standing mind. A thought that was loose, and perhaps meaningless, but one that flowed past his lips before he could catch it.
"How did you know that I saw past it?" His voice was quiet, and yet she heard him loud and clear.
His question made a faint smile appear over her lips as a flicker of soft morning light appeared in her eyes. "The Queen told me," she whispered back. "I don't know why," she chuckled to herself. "All she said to it was: 'So many interesting things in this world...' which was about as informative as it sounds."
He quirked an eyebrow, but the smile that rose over her, and the sound of her laugh. The melody of her voice: it was as if a winter that had lasted for decades, centuries even, ended with that sound alone, and it made him smile. He couldn't help but smile. There you are... making me yield... He mused to himself. But what else am I supposed to do? How could I resist when you do that?
Her eyes lifted to gaze into his, radiating the smile that he knew, the smile that he could remember. It was the same smile, but this was more dear to him. This smile made him want to chuckle, laugh, smile, spin around like a child... This smile, it was all that he remembered and more.
How could I not smile when you look at me like that? How could I not? That gaze... even if there's dried up tears under your eyes... that gaze and that smile... How could I not? You're making me yield, in the best possible way... And I wouldn't have it any other way.
He leaned down again, catching her slightly off guard as he pressed his mouth against hers again. His lips took a hold of hers, only to let go, in order to take a better hold each time they parted from hers. But despite of it all, she was too far from him. So, his left hand fell from her cheek and instead wrapped around her waist to pull her closer, as close as he possibly could. Close enough to make his heart beat against her, just as it was meant to do.
But his body was still weak, and it needed air. And thus, he was forced to pull back again. He was forced to settle in looking at her. He brushed a few strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear while still holding onto her. I'm never letting you go... He thought to himself with a smile, as radiant as the midday summer sun on a clear blue sky.
"What was that for?" She giggled while tapping the tip of his nose with her index finger.
"For being there," he smirked.
His answer made the sweetest of melodies, much more beautiful than that of any songbird, escape from her. "You can't keep kissing me all the time I'm with you," she teased with a smirk of her own.
"Hmm..." he hummed in thought for a moment, which was followed by a flicker in the corner of his eye. "You're right," he agreed. "I can do better," he grinned before lifting her up abruptly by the waist, hoisting her up, which made a yelp escape from her.
"Fue!" She giggled with a laugh. "Put me down!" She mused.
"In a minute my love," he replied while making his way closer to the bed.
"Fu-ee..." she tried, but her tone gave her amusement away.
"Anything my queen desires," he grinned before tossing her onto the bed, making her yelp again.
"Hey!" She laughed as her smile reach from ear to ear.
"Mhm..." he hummed while climbing into bed with her and wrapping his arms around her, before pressing his head against her chest, concentrating into the sound of her heartbeat.
"Mhm," she smirked while looking at him nuzzling against her with a content smile.
"You're not going anywhere," he insisted as his hold of her grew tighter, which made her chuckle.
"I don't recall trying to escape," she grinned while letting her head sink into the soft covers under them.
"All resistance is futile," he chuckled against her, gazing up to her as he did so.
"Mhm," she hummed while stroking his hair. "So, perhaps it's better that I give up?" She quirked an eyebrow at him with a grin.
"Well, we both know that I won't give up easily."
She couldn't help but laugh before bringing her hand down onto his back, drawing circles onto it as her other hand settled onto the back of his head, holding him close. "We do," she agreed, earning an approving smile from him.
He nuzzled against her once more, feeling the faint threads winding again, slowly twisting and turning, as if to make something, something bigger than any of the individual, lonely threads themselves. Perhaps it was just imagination, or perhaps they were being pulled as nothing more than puppets on a string.
Or. Then it was that the strings were crafting something in the hopes of painting a picture, a canvas of a future. But the strings, they did not tell. The simply kept twisting and turning, as if weaving into something. Because that's what the strings were meant to do, to be woven.
Solara closed her eyes with a bright smile, feeling her heartstrings winding, loosening up from being coiled around nothing but themselves, in the hopes of taking a hold of his. And as they unwound, they took a hold, one that made her consciousness drift away into a dream.
I love him... I really do... She thought before sleep overtook her, but the smile stayed as prominent as ever.
His chest rose and fell as he breathed in her scent, feeling alive again. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on her, the way her hand moved over his back with a lazy motion for a moment before sliding down to his side.
I love her... more than anything... He thought as he felt his exhaustion coming back to him, welcoming blissful sleep to him.
The world outside that door, outside that one room. It could wait. The world, it could wait for a few hours. But this room, this world, belonged to them and only them. The room that knew them. The one room, where they could be Solara and Fuegoleon. As simple as that.