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There is a crack in the sky, as if the heavens were to leak through like spilled ink.
She is used to finding comfort in the stars, but now they look back at her as more of a threat than reassurance. The twinkling lights seem more an angry glint in the eye of a God. There is nothing kind about this sky, she thinks, as the gentle wind makes her robes swirl around her. After all, they almost took him from her.
Somewhere in the distance, the ravens break against the night.
☾
She found him one unassuming night, stumbling amongst the trees in dress not suited for the cold weather. At a distance she watched, amusement tickling her features as he tripped over an exposed tree root, turning to curse the thing as if it had deeply offended his family lineage. She stifled a laugh, bringing her cloaked hand up to her mouth as she watched the handsome stranger. And handsome he was, his dark brown hair framing his angular features. Despite the near-permanent crease in between his brow, she could tell even several yards away that he was likely someone of high nobility and bloodline.
She edged closer to the clearing where the stranger was, and watched as he tugged his navy-hued cloak from a tanglement of branches. It took him a moment of struggling, but he soon freed the garment and gave himself a satisfied smirk. It was then that he looked around, as if he has just now realized his surroundings, and a forlorn expression casted over his features.
It was evident that this man was lost.
Always cautious, she approached him like she would a wounded animal. Slow steps, eyes focused on his figure. When she got close enough and his back was still turned, she cleared her throat delicately.
“You seem to be lost, am I correct?”
The stranger spun around at this, eyes wide for a moment. When they landed on her, however, they turned to something almost of boredom.
“I think I have the right to walk around a forest if I so choose” he replies dryly, but the way he jumps at the sound of a nearby branch snapping tells her he isn’t one for the outdoors. She laughs at this, giving him a slight bow.
“My mistake, Sire. I’ll let you enjoy your walk, please take care of yourself on the nearby cliffside, you know there are wolves there— oh, but I’m sure you knew that already” she spoke calmly, but she met his gaze mid-bow with a challenging glint to her eye. She straightened her stance, turning on the heel of her boots and striding back down the trail towards her cabin. She only made it a mere five yards before she heard a stammering behind her.
“Wait” he replied, and she stopped— refusing to face him, but a smirk playing on her lips just the same. “Take me to your home, at least for tonight.”
☾
He is a prince, or at least that’s what he tells her. The handsome stranger is as rigid as a board as he sits at her table, watching her like a hawk as she mixes ingredients in a bowl.
“It’s not going to bite, you know” she says, hoping her voice is level enough to hide her annoyance. His gaze snaps to the bag on the table, all velvet and misshapen from where she haphazardly placed it before beginning to cook. His brow furrows, and he uses a delicate finger to lift the opening of the bag-- his eyes widen.
“What are these?” he asks, his voice incredulous. She turns to him after sliding diced vegetables into the bubbling pot.
“Those” she says, placing the cutting board on the table, “are my tools.” She eyes the crystals of rose quartz and the worn-down tarot cards slipped into their leather pouch and smiles fondly. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen ever so slightly, a mix of both wonderment and fear. With a smile as crescent as the moon, she leans in to whisper in his ear.
“Perhaps I’ll teach you someday.”
☾
The first few weeks, she leaves on her own accord to gather supplies. Upon wrapping her cloak around her and securing her bag to her person, she watches with amusement as the prince sits proper at her table. He had requested parchment and ink, and most mornings she found him writing patiently across the eggshell-colored surface. His strokes were beautiful and strong, a sign that he had years of practice writing in such a precise manner. Her eyes caught his name amongst the letters once, Eisuke. It was a bizarre name, but one she supposes fit the unconventional man.
Often as she trailed through the mountain paths and forest clearings, she heard that name murmured in her mind like a mantra. It accompanied her while her slender fingers plucked heather and wild herbs beneath the shady comfort of trees. The warm bark of the pines reminded her of his locks, the inky stones lining riverbeds of his eyes. They were subtle changes in her mind, but not unwelcome ones.
These changes became more prominent when he insisted on joining her for her walks. He claimed it was for protection, as the sun began to set earlier and earlier with the change in the season. They would walk in silence for the most part, until his curious noise at a passing field of flowers made her tilt her head.
“Do you know what those are?” she would ask, and would teach him after he shook his head. The trips became learning experiences, where she would teach the prince about varying ingredients. the best place to hide out from storms, even what streams had the freshest water. It isn’t until one evening, when the sun is being chased off by twilight, that they hear the echo of the wolves.
“How many do you suppose there are?” he asks her, and she takes her bottom lip between her teeth in worry.
“Few dozen, maybe more” she replies quietly. In turn, he tightens his grip around her shoulders as they walk back to the cabin.
That night, she finds sleep escaping her as the howls remain omnipresent across the meadow.
☾
Over the melting of the seasons, they grow closer. The prince sheds his hardened exterior, offering her a genuine look into his soul. He kisses her on a night where she shows him the moon, sitting on the edge of a rockcliff not too far from the waterfall. It is like flowers blooming underneath her skin, and she pulls him closer like she wants to ingest a piece of his heart.
Things change then. She tells him her techniques for apothecary, she tells him how to avoid the wolves beyond the caves, but most of all she tells him her secrets. The parts of her that wish for company, that nag her and tell her this life of solitude is a life wasted. She expects him to laugh it off, or to not understand the nuance behind her words. Instead he listens, and for that she is ever grateful.
Time finds them seeking comfort in the arms of each other, of torn-away cloaks and private sighs. More often than not, her bed is filled with his sleeping frame by the time the dawn breaks through the curtains. It is a comfort, a natural step in what she assumes to be their relationship. There is a certain morning where the wind whips against the glass, frost forming at the corners of the windowsill, that she finds warmth in his bare arms. She kisses his neck and whispers against his skin, hoping the words manifest against flesh.
“Take me somewhere where I can watch the sun rise.” He cradles her face in his hands, all porcelain and bone, and kisses the words off her lips. They fall down into his chest for safe keeping, eager for the day that he can bring her to the edge of where the sky meets the earth.
☾
The day never comes. Instead, there is bloodshed.
It’s difficult to tell what belongs to him and what to the wolves, but the rational part of her brain tells her this makes no difference. Instead, she holds him as she sobs. His body moves under her touch awkwardly, like a doll who hasn’t been stitched together properly. Like a shattered bowl put together by melted gold, but there are pieces missing.
He had gifted her a cloak not too long ago, in celebration of the first harvest. It was gray, reminiscent of a pelt of a fox in the snow. It stains as she half-drags him back to the cabin, dirt mixing with blood. She knows he is running out of time.
The recovery is brutal, his once-gorgeous skin marred with claw marks and gashes. She spends three days pouring over him, washing each wound and applying any herbal mixture she has in her home. It isn’t until she sees his breath even out and his fever subside that she even entertains the idea of leaving the cabin for supplies. She waits until he slips into a deep sleep, creeping out the front door silently and returning before dawn with as many supplies as she can carry.
Her new mixes do wonders on him, and soon he is able to open his eyes and speak with her. The fact that she is his only caregiver is he only thing keeping her from breaking down, so she merely holds a bowl of broth to his lips and makes him drink. She cradles his head as he drinks, and she can feel his warmth beneath her touch. It is enough to tell her he is really alive and not some figment of her imagination.
Weeks go by, and she refuses to let him leave the cabin. In the rare moments she does sleep, her nightmares are plagued by the howling of wolves and the metallic scent of blood. It is crushing, and she takes to kneeling on the floor with her head on the mattress in order to give him ample space to rest. She often finds herself roused from these nightmares by the sensation of his fingers in her hair, a concerned furrow of his brow.
She sleeps with the fire going constantly, fearful his weakened state will make him fall ill. She sleeps with a dagger tucked under her belt and a bow and arrow at her feet. It isn’t enough. It never is.
☾
It all comes to a halt one fateful morning, and the fact that it is so ordinary only bruises her ego more. Eisuke is sitting up in bed, looking down at how the sun rays lay against his scarred chest. His fingers trace the marked flesh, noting that the once-open wounds have now closed and turned a dusty pink. He is healing, and for that he smiles.
He had been permitted to walk the cabin for a while now, so the sight of him awake and moving on his own is nothing surprising. Something about this scene, however, breaks her to her core. The mortar and pestle slips from her hand, the stone shattering against the wooden floor. She follows suit, crumpling to the floor as her vision blurs with tears. She can hear a commotion, and soon a pair of large hands are gripping her shoulders and heaving her up.
“It’s okay, it’s okay” he says, shaky voice trying to calm her. It is clear that he’s taken aback by her behavior, but he clutches her to his chest and smooths her hair down just the same. She clings to the prince, pitying herself for being so weak. She must have vocalized this in some regard, because he shushes her and kisses the top of her head as they rock from side to side.
“You’ve done great, you don’t have to worry about me anymore” he whispers, lips ghosting against her hair. She can feel her nails dig into his back.
“You were so close to dying, I watched you every night” she cries, finally releasing all the pent-up heartache she stored away in her chest. The prince reaches down and rubs her back.
“But I didn’t” he replies simply.
“But you didn’t” she says after a moment, shuddering out a sigh.
☾
She eases her hold on him after that morning, offering to accompany him on walks outside. They stick close to the cabin for weeks and she knows he is doing it to ease her worries. For that, she is grateful. They walk with their hands intertwined, and every so often she would look over at him and see the way his dark hair rustled in the breeze, how his shirt lay open just enough to expose the fading scars marking his skin.
Things become easier, the earth welcomes the first new life of Spring. The nightmares taper off until they’re so rare a part of her wonders if they ever occurred in the first place. The prince brings her flowers now, even sneaking out at dawn to return with a fistful of morning glories and baby’s breath. The cabin fills with these little reminders of new life, of a chance to start over.
There is a morning where he wakes before her, kissing her temple and urging her to don her cloak and to follow him outside. She obliges, and his hand feels impossibly warm as he leads her through dew-soaked meadows in the dark. They come to a clearing, Eisuke urging her to sit with him on a fallen log and out into the sky. It isn’t long until the sky brightens, filling with the warm amber and golden hues of the morning light.
“I promised I’d take you somewhere where you can watch the sun rise” he whispers to her as he presses a kiss to her full lips. And for the first time in ages, she allows herself to feel a sense of calm.