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Leta had come into this world quiet but glowing. A moon child, a child who would eventually find herself at home in the peace that darkness brought, never quite the burning sun that her father had desired to carry on the family, nor that people expected from her considerable lineage. In comparison, her brother from the moment of his birth had shone so bright in the eyes of their father that she had paled in comparison and had faded even further into the background of the play of her life.
Leta had both envied and hated the bright light that her brother provided.
And when that light had sunk into irretrievable darkness, she had decided that she would always avoid those with that brightness, for they would always bring someone like her pain.
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The moonchild had grown into a young woman. Years had come and passed, and nothing ever seemed to change much. She remained as cold and untouchable to the world as ever.
Her betrothed was nice enough, nicer than she had ever expected to experience in her future. She could almost say she loved him, though not in the way that many would’ve hoped. However, she also knew that the pressure would remain until she was wedded, the pressure to be attached to the arm of another, dainty and silent. Beauty had always been the only purpose of women in her position and family. Her fiancé was simply a convenience. Fulfilling a duty with somebody she could call friend, instead of somebody as cold as her father had always been.
She shouldn’t have been surprised to see her old friend again. Hadn’t he always seemed to appear in her life at the most dire and loneliest of times? She was surprised however, that the man who fashioned himself a lone wolf was this time in fact, not alone. A single arched brow draws a simple squeak of a greeting out of the woman, and with great reluctance Leta finds she must draw her gaze away. The fire burning behind the woman’s wide eyes had been both familiar and yet completely alien, and she knew better than to be lured in by the promise of warmth and safety.
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Everything after that happens in a blur. The only thing that stabilises her through it all is a warm hand in her own, silence between them as they wait for either their escape or their demise.
Amidst the anger and the fear and the grief, Leta cannot help a brief feeling of satisfaction at the destruction of her family tombs. Her father had not deserved memorial in any sense. Grief wins out in the end though, having just watched her friend and future and safety go up in flames, death once again leaving her with nothing to mourn.
Familiar warm arms wrapping around her shoulders and waist are the only things that can pull her out of the depths of her own personal hell and lifelong wounds reopened. Distantly, she can feel soft lips whispering against her scalp that “I’m so sorry, I promise you will be okay” and Leta can’t help but wonder how a woman can make every word sound like prayer.
Leta does what she previously would’ve thought unthinkable; she leans in and buries a tear-stained face into the woman’s coat and lets this suns ray warm her for the first time in what seems like a life time.
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It takes time. It takes time to process not only everything that happened in Paris, but everything that has ever happened.
Leta had always envied people who had shone like the sun. Tina shows her another world, compliments her in a way that she did not think possible. For the first time, Leta begins to see the softer shades provided by her own glow, and how sometimes under the moon light, the world and people can be at their very best.
It takes time, but eventually, Leta begins to feel the warmth provided by Tina in her chest even when she is not there. Instead of shunning the sunlight, she willingly basks in it and whispers secrets and promises to the sky. In return, the sun sings gentle songs and praises and declarations of love to the moon.
Tina is her own personal sun to guide, and in return she becomes the moon which comforts. And between the two of them, they stun and warm the entire world with their light.