Chapter Text
Darcy Graves was late and for the first time in her life she truly didn’t want to be. What was supposed to be a quick early morning excursion to one of the many cemeteries that dotted The Cursed Apple ended up dragging itself well into the afternoon. There were more restless spirits in that particular graveyard than she expected. She had to leave before she could get to everyone there and as much as it broke her heart to do so, she needed to be somewhere. Darcy promised Apollo she would make it to the final fencing tournament of the year. She sent one last glance behind her shoulder as she left and vowed to return later before slipping into the streets of New York, which were all to happy to swallow her up.
She ran down the crowded afternoon streets, slipping between both crowds and alleyways, frustrated at her lack of cardio and the size of this city. Why did so many people need to live in one place anyway? She could do with less people in general, the streets would be easier to navigate at the very least. Her mind drifted to him as she ran, at the start of the school year she always felt the urge to smash a beaker over his stupid head and now she was running herself ragged because she felt guilty. Her, Darcy Graves, guilty for running late! Hell, he probably expected her to not show, he was always so vocal over her ‘truancy.’ Why did she let herself get worked up over this? Why was she getting worked up over him?
Probably because he showed up to both of her club’s plays, even though he didn’t have to.
Probably because she knew he cared more than he would like to admit, even if he pretended otherwise.
Probably because she truly cared for him, as hard as that was to admit.
Point is she needed to make it, at least to the final match. She bet, hell she knew, that Apollo would get first. The boy faced any task with the need to conquer it thoroughly, whether it be climbing the social hierarchy of Blackmore, shooting for lofty academic goals, or becoming fencing captain in record time. She would be a fool to doubt his prowess and talent when it came to fencing. How could she when she fought by his side during the Ritual? He made something so enriched in martial tradition look like a fluid dance. If she wasn’t close to the Ixian she would’ve felt bad for the other fencers.
She just hoped they were good enough to draw out the matches long enough for her to make it.
She was a third of the way to her destination, or at least she hoped she was, when her lungs decided to demand a break. Apollo had needled her both during and after the Ritual for her alarming lack of cardio. Embarrassingly, she had actually been trying to work on it, although the results of said work weren’t really coming to light at the moment. All the smoking she’s done in the last two years probably hasn’t helped, she’d have to kick the habit sometime soon. Regret over her vices would not fill her lungs and she was in desperate need for a breather. In the distance she saw a mass of red, color not to dissimilar to the Ixian that wedged himself into both her heart and mind. Slowing down to a jog as she got closer, she realized it was a flower cart.
She couldn’t help but think of two twin roses preserved in her penthouse, both in congratulations of a play well done. This could be a good chance to get him something to make up for her tardiness. That and it served a good excuse to give her lungs a break. Shifting from a jog to a steady gait, Darcy made her way to the cart and leaned on it as she took a few deep breaths.
“Hello!” Greeted the worker, who seemingly did not care a teenager was slumped over their cart, gasping for air. “Can I help you today?”
Darcy held up a finger as she took a moment longer to catch her breath, before pointing towards the large swath of red flowers, “How much for one of those?”
The worker looked at the flowers before looking back at her, “Those? 25 cents a tulip, or you could do a bouquet for 2.50 if you’d like!”
Graves considered it for a moment, before realizing that running with an entire bouquet would be inconvenient at best. While she was sure Apollo would appreciate the grandeur of such a gift, she figured making it to the event was a more important matter all together. That and she didn’t want to spend the next week lowering his ego down to a reasonable level from such a gift.
She shook her head before fishing a quarter out of her blazer and placing it on the cart, “Just one will do, thanks.”
The worker nodded before handing her a tulip which she promptly tucked it into her blazer. She gave them a wave goodbye before returning to a dash, albeit a more reasonably paced one this time.
“Good luck on your date!” Shouted the worker as she left.
Darcy stumbled at the comment and grumbled as she righted herself, annoyed that such words almost made her eat the pavement.
—
Eventually she reached the Blackmore campus. Slipping into a breathless power walk, Darcy glanced up to the belltower. If what Apollo told her earlier in the week about tournament lengths was accurate, she would be cutting it very close. She swerved towards a known shortcut, climbing over ledges and pushing through bushes and other brush. She zeroed in on the entrance to the athletic building and rushed to it, swinging the door open and making her way down the hall. The rapid clacking of her shoes filled the silent halls before eventually getting drowned out by the cheers leaking from the auditorium down the hall. A glimmer of hope filled her heart, perhaps it was still going. In the same breath a nugget of doubt attempted to drown that hope, perhaps the cheers she heard were in celebration of the end? With apprehension she approached one of the doors and glanced through the window. She felt relief wash over her as she saw an active duel taking place in the center, thoroughly confirming that the tournament had yet to end.
Darcy focused her gaze to the left, looking towards the Blackmore bench. There sat Apollo, focused solely on the match in front of him, nodding along to something a teammate had leaned over and whispered to him. Cheers erupted and she glanced back towards the match, the Blackmore fencer had been hit once more and had lost the bout. Darcy looked back to Apollo, now noticing him reaching for his ring to fiddle with. Of course he wasn’t wearing it at the moment but she knew the habit all to well, he was nervous.
Apollo turned to fit his mask on his face and Darcy took that moment to finally cross the threshold and enter the auditorium. She slipped through the doors and closed them softly behind her and slipped up next to the stands, watching as Apollo accepted the rapier that was presented to him. He took a deep breath and turned, evidently content and ready to fight the fencer that just knocked out his teammate. As he turned he paused and Darcy was sure he saw her, she recognized the movement his tail made was the same it made whenever he saw her. She raised her fist in support, hoping he would understand what she was trying to convey.
Win.
He jutted his chin up and his tail swayed in renewed confidence as he started making his way to the center of the auditorium, she could imagine the grin that adorned his face under his mask. There was the Golden Boy she knew. As he approached the other fencer and exchanged formalities she recognized the crest on the other fencer belonged to Kimberland Academy. Both fencers separated and went to their starting positions, saluting one another before beginning the match.
Apollo started on the defensive in this first bout, letting his opponent take the initiative. He parried and blocked the first few strikes before switching to offense, taking his opponent off guard and managing to land a hit. Cheers rang out through the students of Blackmore. It was a good start for the Ixian, she was confident he could keep up the momentum.
One point for Apollo.
They both reset before moving towards each other again. Once again Apollo started defensively and forced his opponent to make the first strike. He tried to do the same trick he had last time, this time failing as his opponent expected it and managed to land a strike on Apollo for his efforts. The visitors section, full of those from Kimberland, whooped and cheered.
One point for Kimberland.
Both now were on equal footing points wise, Darcy knew Apollo wouldn’t be worried so she wouldn’t as well. The third bout began and Apollo exploded forward, now taking up a new offensive strategy. His opponent, who was expecting a slower strategy from the Ixian, was caught terribly off guard and only managed to block a few strikes before getting scored upon. Cheers sprang from the Blackmore side once more, less so than last time as more and more spectators were getting drawn into the match.
Another for Apollo, one short of victory.
She clenched her hands together, finding herself getting drawn in as well. She hopped he would finish the match this round, just to release her from the tension that was slowly winding in her stomach. She never thought something like this could capture her attention quite so well, but most things involving Apollo as of late seemed to have that effect. She pushed that thought aside as the fencers resumed their duel once more. The fencer from Kimberland seemed determined to not go out so easy, not letting Apollo get in any hits as he kept up the offence from the last round. This lasted longer than the previous three rounds as both fencers were pushed in and out of both defense and offence, neither wanting to give the other an easy point. The fencer from Kimberland eventually managing to get in a cheap hit on Apollo, Darcy winced as the hit connected. She knew he would be bitter such a move worked on him.
Kimberland had tied it up, it was anyone's game.
There were no cheers from either side of the auditorium, both schools completely drawn into the match as no sounds were heard besides the steady steps of both fencers returning to their starting positions. Darcy felt herself absently chew on her lip, she had come into this expecting him to win and yet now it felt as if it could go either way. Both fencers were waiting for the signal to begin when she saw Apollo glance over his shoulder. She gave him the most reassuring and encouraging smile she could muster, surprised to see confidence return to his posture that she had not yet realized he has lost. He turned to face the fencer that stood opposite, chin held high and tail swaying in a familiar pattern. It was one she recognized and saw often. It was a pattern she saw whenever he was about to answer a tough question or when he faced down Vyper on his lonesome.
It was an pattern that said: ‘Watch this.’
She couldn’t look away even if she wanted to.
Both fencers sprung towards each other, intent on winning both this bout and this tournament. Once more each fencer shifted between attack and defense, strike and parry. Here Apollo seemed to act as a flexible wall, willing to wait out any burst in offense from his opponent but eagerly pushing back against any mistake the other would make. Slowly he was gaining a noticeable foothold as his persistent focus crashed down on the building worry of his foe. Darcy thought back to her mad dash through New York, when she compared Apollos swordsmanship in the Ritual to dancing. The way he fought then was fluid but wild, every movement on the fly but with purpose. What she saw here was something she would describe as a dance as well, but more of a waltz that a noble or aristocrat could be found performing. Every step was measured and slight, purpose clear but minimal. She never expected fencing to be so multifaceted, so thrilling and enthralling to watch.
The again, perhaps it was Apollo that was entertaining to watch rather than fencing.
Apollo continued to slowly erode his opponent. Each mistake made opposite of him was bigger, with the time between them growing smaller. Darcy knew Apollo well enough that he could’ve certainly won half a minute ago. He was clearly seeking something in particular. What in particular became clear as the fencer from Kimberland made a mistake that left him open to the same cheap shot he had performed against Apollo. A cheap shot the Ixian was all to happy to return to his opponent. Darcy felt herself laughing at the sheer pettiness of it all as the stands that held the Blackmore student body erupted into cheers.
Apollo reached an empty hand out to his opponent, shaking it before turning back around and getting swarmed by his teammates. Darcy looked on with smile as he celebrated his victory with his team. She had almost begun making her way towards him before electing to do otherwise. She did not want to spoil his moment by invading a space she felt she did not belong.
So Darcy Graves slipped back out the doors she had come through minutes ago. She knew where to go if he wanted to talk to her and she was quite confident he knew were she would end up.
—
After a bit of walking Graves had made it to their bench, the same bench they met up after her plays. Where they discussed the coming ritual and celebrated their triumph the night after. The bench where they watched the stars and talked about their dreams. Darcy couldn’t help but smile as she approached, her cheap cornerstone candies had been swapped for Ixian chocolates last time they were here. She needed to get more from him sometime soon.
She took a seat with a weary sigh, she was already feeling some of the side effects of her race through New York and tomorrow would certainly feel even worse. Perhaps she’ll take an easy day tomorrow, it would be a Sunday afterall. She reached into her blazer for her cigarettes, hoping to relax with a few drags, when her fingers brushed over the stem of a flower that had been hastily tucked into an inner pocket. She slowly pulled out the flower, now having decided to check up on the poor thing rather than have a smoke. She twirled it slowly as she examined it, despite being crumpled at the ends it still held its vibrant red color. She hoped Apollo wouldn’t mind the damage.
By the time she had finished her examination of the tulip she heard a low whistle a few yards away, his way of informing her of his approach. She glanced to where she heard him, spotting the gleam of his tail cap swaying as he made his approach. He was still in his fencing gear, sans the mask, and was wearing his blazer over his gear just like he had in the ritual. She spotted the medal that had been placed on his neck, more gold for the Golden Boy as reward for his victory tonight. His hair was messy from wearing his fencing mask tonight, she kind of liked it.
“Graves! I’m glad you made it tonight!”
She waited for him to get closer before responding, she really didn’t want to shout, “Wouldn’t want to miss the last tournament with Blackmore's finest fencing captain participating.”
He put a mocking hand over his heart and plastered an equally cocky smile on his face, “Thank you, you’re too kind.” His eyes narrowed towards the tulip before he schooled his face again. “Where’d you get that?” He gestured to the tulip, “Do I have competition when it comes to gifting flowers?”
She grinned, realizing why he had stared down the flower moments prior. She decided that there wouldn’t be harm in stoking the fire that was Apollos jealousy, she didn’t think anyone could blame her for doing so if he was to be so obvious about it.
She twirled the flower, “Yes, it seems someone is aiming to copy you.”
He rest a foot on the bench, leaning in close to her face and whispering, “Well then I hope you would do me the favor of sharing the name of this person.”
She smiled wider now before lifting the flower between their faces, “Darcy Graves!”
She could see the confusion fly through his eyes, “What-”
“This is for you!”
He stared at her in disbelief before closing his eyes and letting out a good natured huff, “By the gods Graves…”
She could no longer hold back her laughter as he finally sat next to her in defeat, slumping down and running a hand through his hair as he let out a chuckle, “I cannot believe you right now.”
She calmed herself enough to respond, “Honestly you make it too easy Apollo.”
He waved a dismissive hand at her, “Yes well I look forward to returning the favor later.”
“I doubt you could.”
“Then you better start believing Graves.”
She found herself quietly laughing once more as they both leaned back against the wall to look towards the indigo skyline.
She found herself rolling the tulip between her fingers, remembering that she still had it. Offhandedly she held it in his field of view, “This really is for you, by the way.”
He looked at the tulip with confusion, “For me? What for?”
“Winning.”
He opened his mouth to reply, probably to say something about ‘victory not being a doubt.’
She opted to cut him off rather than hear that, “And to apologize.”
He was now looking at her with confusion, “Apologize? What for?”
God, he could be a parrot in his next life if he kept repeating himself, he was certainly vibrant enough to do so.
“For being late to your tournament.” She shook the tulip now, wanting him to take it. “You invited me and I promised to come and I was still late.”
He looked at her for a moment before grabbing the hand that held the tulip with both of his, “But you did keep your promise, you showed up right when it mattered Darcy.”
She looked at him, taking in his earnestly before dropping her gaze to their hands. “I don’t think that made to much of a difference.”
He gave a hum, “Perhaps the outcome wouldn’t have changed, but you being there made it feel all the more grander.”
She looked back up at him, he gave an easy smile in return. Damn him for making her feel good. Damn him for being honest with her. “Just take the flower already Golden Boy.”
He let out a chuckle but let go of her hand, gingerly plucking the tulip from her and examining it. “You have good taste, this is a nice flower.”
She raised a brow, “Despite the crumples?”
“Well I was going to get to those but yes, despite the crumples.”
“Hmm.”
“Indeed.”
They sat there for a while longer in silence, listening to the distant cicadas that dotted the academy grounds. Eventually Apollo reached over and gently held her hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze. She squeezed back, enjoying the warmth his hand brought. She felt movement around her waist and looked down to see his tail had wrapped around her.
She turned to him, “When did this become normal for us?”
He turned and raised a brow, “What exactly are you referring to?”
She gestured broadly towards their hands, the tulip, and the tail that had mindlessly snaked around her waist. “This.”
He hummed, “I don’t quite know. Do you not like this?”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed but I like this very much.”
He nodded again, “It’s hard not to.”
She poked him with her free hand, “Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same.”
“I never implied I didn’t. I couldn’t think of anything more pleasant if I tried.”
She huffed before resting her head on his shoulder, “It’s too late in the day for you to act all sappy.”
He squeezed her hand at that and looked forward, “I’ve learned the hard way that it’s best to say what you want to rather than wait, you never know what may happen Darce.”
She thought of all the lost souls she had helped, how many couldn’t move on because of words left unsaid in their lifetime?
She squeezed his hand back, “Then why don’t we ever say what I’m sure we’re both thinking?”
He hummed in contemplation, “I think most I’ve said those words to don’t stay in my life long.”
She reached up and cupped his chin gently, turning his gaze to hers, “Perhaps there are other ways to express something like that without saying it aloud.”
He cupped her cheek, flower now abandoned on the ground, “Would that be any different?”
She leaned in, pulling him close as well, “Just different enough.”
With that their lips met tenderly, expressing the love they held for one another.
They pulled back after a few beats, both with sharp gazes aimed at the other.
Apollo swallowed and opened his mouth, “I love-”
She quickly covered his mouth with hers before pulling back again, “Do you wish to mark me for death Apollo?”
He let out a huff of laughter, “No, of course not.”
He glanced to the side sheepishly, “Is it strange that I want to do that more?”
She leaned in again, catching his gaze as he looked back, “Funny, I want the very same thing.”
They would continue to feel that same way for the rest of the night, finding that the more they indulged in the other just increased how much more they wanted.
By the time they had finally parted ways, the moon was hung high in the sky and her lips were bruised and sore. She did not regret one bit of it.
In fact, she wanted more.