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The day, even though it had been years ago, was as fresh in his memory as if it had been yesterday.
He, who was made by the gods, who was perfect, who was untouchable, had been everything. He was a human, far surpassing all others. No one, not even the gods, could judge him. He was beautiful, perfect, superior, glorious, everything a mortal desired to be but wasn’t.
He had been the pride of the Thunder, shown off like an ornate decoration, a prize Her Excellency had won and no others could ever have. Even in his status as a member of Her house, a noble amongst nobles, he knew he was but a possession.
And indeed, possessions cannot have things of their own. Guards, perhaps, to ensure Her Majesty’s plaything would be safe. Friends, they were not. Friends, for the perfect object, were but a dream.
Until, of course, they weren’t. Until a maple leaf, beautiful in a way he had never seen before, drifted into his life, a new guard to the precious possession. Stunning scarlet, pure white, hints of spring green, colours he had never seen before. The fair maple leaf was his and his alone. He treasured the secret friend, whispered to him things no one else could know and in return, his guard who was no longer a simple guard told him of how perfect he was. Even though the boy had been told those words every day of his life, they were different coming from the maple leaf.
He, who had never loved, found himself enamoured with his maple leaf, perfect to him in a way nothing else was, not even himself. In late nights, when not even the stars illuminated the world, he would be with his maple leaf, loving him in a way far different from the faraway love of his admirers and the Thunder, loving him in a way he had never known before, only parting as the sun rose. Throughout the days, the perfect boy’s mind was filled only with thoughts of his precious maple leaf.
He became too caught in his maple leaf’s words, too confident in himself beyond what he had ever been. He took risks he had never dared to take, exchanging glances with his maple leaf outside his chambers, even daring to brush his hand against the other’s as he walked by.
The perfect boy became convinced he truly was untouchable, became bolder in his actions. He was caught in his newfound love, berated for even thinking he could own something as privileged as love in his place as her prized possession. He dared to speak to Her, his tone perhaps a bit too harsh for Her liking, or perhaps She simply believed he had no right. Her anger, more Divine than he ever would be, descended on him. Yet, his final punishment was to be carried out in a harsher manner, publicly, for all the kingdom who had loved him from afar to see. For those he had entertained simply with his fair face and beauty to see how far he had fallen, how ugly he had become in his confidence.
And his maple leaf, his lovely, perfect maple leaf, who would have been passed over, who would have been allowed to remain within the walls of the palace, had done something so foolish. The perfect boy was not sure if he could forgive his friend for standing up for him, defending him when everyone else was against him, begging the Lightning not to punish with Her cruel storms. And thus, the Lightning struck him, harder than it would hit the perfect boy for even in Her anger, the Lightning cared for Her beautiful toy.
Forgiveness, She had called it. His divine status, his beauty, his every honour had been stripped of him. His precious maple leaf, taken from him. Mercy, She called it.
And as for his maple leaf, She promised none.
The last words he heard from his darling maple leaf were a promise to go anywhere, do anything with him, such was his loyalty, his love for the perfect boy.
He had fled, then, too caught in his panic and fear and selfish wish to survive, not daring to see what would become of his lovely maple leaf, perhaps too scared to see the end results, to scared even to wait, to hope, that his maple leaf would make good on the promise.
The boy, even now, despised himself. Were it not for him, for his recklessness, his carelessness, his precious maple leaf would not have been punished alongside him. They would have remained in the palace, together still, even if they were apart. Worse yet, or perhaps better, he thought, he had not seen his maple leaf in years.
He, who had been Divine, who had been perfect, who had been untouchable, had lost all of it. Respect, even if it was only for his status as Her perfect object, was not given to him now were he not to force it from them. His anger, his hatred of himself, became anger towards the world, a weapon to harden his heart so he would never be as weak as he was when he loved his maple leaf.
Weakness.
That was all it was.
Love, a word he had heard so often in his travels across the lands, soured in his mouth as he spoke it through a tongue used only for deception and cruelty.
Even as he found his place in Her royal court of Masks, more powerful than near any other, even as he regained so much of what he had lost in his idiocy, he did not allow love any room in his blackened heart.
The Skirmisher ruled over his men with an iron fist, just as he had learned from both the Lightning and the Frost, holding no forgiveness for even the smallest mistake. He allowed no compassion, no kindness, within his rule. Just as She did, he punished every error to ensure no one would make the mistake again. He forced all of his anger onto them, berating them for simply daring to speak to him. Many of the Mask-wearing people would silently wonder what happened to their captain, for him to hate the world as he did.
Even as the Skirmisher, no longer the untouchable object of man’s desire who belonged to the Eternal Lightning, gained all he had lost once more, he could not find forgiveness for himself in his heart. However often he banished the thought, there was a small voice within him, repeating his every insult back to him, telling him of his uselessness.
The years had long since passed since that time, short even then, but even so, the Skirmisher could not forget the dazzling scarlet eyes, the soft alabaster flesh, the colours unlike anything he had ever seen, the love he had not since felt.
He could not forget how desperately he missed that love, his love.
Every day, despite himself, he would hope to see his maple leaf once more.