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For a while now, Namaari had accepted the fact that she was drawn to the princess of Heart, drawn to her in ways enemies shouldn’t be.
From their first meeting, Namaari had felt a connection, a spark between them, even though she betrayed the princess shortly after Raya first called her a friend. As a child, eager to please her mother and blindly following her as most children blindly follow their parents, it didn’t sit right with her that she harbored guilt over what she had done. She was doing her duty to Fang, which she would one day rule. Her people came first, and she had their best interests in mind, even if the mission to retrieve the Dragon Gem ended in catastrophe and six years of devastation.
During those six years, Namaari crossed paths with Raya on occasion, and nearly every time, Namaari found herself captivated by the girl’s hair.
A part of her knew it was weird to be so entranced with someone’s hair, especially when that someone was supposed to be her biggest enemy, but that didn’t mean she ever listened to that corner of her brain.
It wasn’t just Raya’s hair that fascinated Namaari, but everything about the girl. She was outspoken, stubborn, wild, noncomforming, and even in the darkest of times, full of life that was reflected in her beauty.
Because Raya was beautiful. Namaari had never met anyone that even came close to matching the Heart Princess’s overwhelming beauty. It was a beauty that grew with Raya’s age.
And the thing about Raya’s hair, Namaari began to suspect as the years dragged on, was that it reflected her entire being. It was a strange assumption, yes, but with every encounter they had over the years, Namaari grew more sure of this belief.
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The first time Namaari saw Raya following the tragic, fateful day in Heart, was nearly a year later. Namaari was on a scouting mission with other Fang soldiers, keeping tabs on what was going on throughout the land that was once united as Kumandra and reporting back to her mother, the chief.
Barely fifteen and still young enough to not question her mother’s authority, Namaari forced herself to forget about the princess from Heart that she had betrayed. As Virana said, she had just been another pawn in the plan, and though it was unfortunate what was believed to happen to her—turned to stone like the rest of Heart—there was nothing Fang could (or would) do. As the future chief, Namaari had to worry about her own people, not some foreign princess who had stubbornly pushed her way into Namaari’s heart.
So, Namaari had been almost positive she had seen the girl’s ghost while her team stopped in a Tail market for supplies. Not many jumped up and down at the thought of doing business with Fang, not after what Fang had caused, but this was a market that didn’t seem to care who you were or where you came from. The only thing that mattered was whether or not you had money. And with their serlots, traveling through the place was an easy feat; the people could hate them all they wanted, but no one dared to stand up to them when they could easily become cat food.
Had it not been for the fact that the vendors were used to pickpockets and thieves—no one could be trusted these days—Namaari probably would’ve missed her presence.
As it was, her attention was drawn to a stand to her left as her group moved through the streets. The vendor cried out in anger, and the people surrounding his stand jumped back before they were pushed by the girl with the wild, frizzy, unruly hair, or the vendor himself, who was wielding a large knife.
Namaari held up a hand, and her scouts came to a halt. It had been a year, but there was something eerily familiar about that hair. When its owner turned her head briefly to check on the distance between her and the vendor, who was yelling at her to come back and calling her a filthy thief, Namaari had to hold back a gasp.
It was Raya.
She wasn’t the same girl Namaari had betrayed the year prior. Then, she had been a healthy child, full of energy and a hope Namaari had never seen in anyone before. Now, she was thin, clearly having lost weight in the past year. She was dirty, too, so the insult thrown at her by the vendor wasn’t exactly wrong.
Her hair, though long and beautiful in a strange way, was limp, far from the shiny locks Namaari recalled from their first meeting. It had been done in an elaborate style then, too, but was now down and didn’t seem to be taken care of.
Namaari watched the vendor chase her down the street, still in shock that Raya wasn’t stone like she had thought, until they disappeared completely into the crowd.
Raya was an orphan. She had to be, if she looked the way she did and was stealing from a common vendor. She didn’t look like a princess from the most prosperous land in their world, but a scared, tired, homeless little girl.
Her hair reflected it well, and as she and her scouts moved on with their day, Namaari thought of Raya’s disappearing form. Alive, but surviving. Because of what she had done. Wild, untamed hair haunted her dreams that night, and many nights following it.
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In the three years since the return of the Druun, Namaari saw Raya a handful of times. On the occasion that Raya saw her back, Namaari tended to run, afraid to face the girl.
It was difficult to avoid her, seeing as she appeared to roam the five lands. Why she never found one place and stayed there, Namaari didn’t know, but she had a creeping suspicion that it was on purpose. Not just to stay alive, but because Raya had a mission. She was smart—Namaari wasn’t a fool to ignore that—so there must have been a reason for her constant wandering.
This time, when they crossed paths, it was on the outskirts of Heart, and needless to say, Namaari was dumbstruck.
She and her scouts were headed home from Talon on business, and the only way back to Fang from there meant traveling through Heart.
Namaari hated going through that land, but there was no other route, not with their serlots. Every time she rode through, she was overcome with a guilt that she was almost positive would never truly leave, not while the Druun were still here and the people of Heart were still stone. She remembered the night everything went wrong as though it were yesterday. It clung to her like wet clothing—uncomfortable and heavy.
They traveled following the water, which was the best guide home, and also a safety precaution. Should any Druun attack them—which they had in the past—they would be able to take cover in the water, which repelled the monsters.
Namaari preferred to stay as far from Heart as possible, so they went a bit deeper into the forest surrounding the water, careful to remain alongside the smaller rivers.
It was while traveling beside these rivers that Namaari was caught off guard by someone...singing? Her scouts noticed it as well, and she ordered them to stay back while she investigated, but to remain on guard. The people of Heart were supposed to be stone, all but one, anyway. If there were any survivors, well, maybe Namaari could right a few wrongs and offer them help in some way. Fang’s priorities were its own people, but Namaari didn’t see why they couldn’t extend aid to others every now and then. Not that anyone from Heart would want anything to do with the princess who was responsible for everything that happened, but Namaari had to at least try.
She encouraged her serlot to move forward slowly, following the singing voice. It was beautiful, a bit carefree and light. When she saw its owner, though, she immediately froze.
It had been a few months since she and Raya had seen one another. Three months ago, Raya had been injured somehow, and despite Namaari’s wishes to help her, she did as Raya demanded and left. Running, like she always did, instead of facing her problems.
Now, as Namaari watched from a hiding place behind the tree line, no one would have been able to guess the princess was seriously hurt just weeks before.
She was in the river, in nothing but her underclothing, swimming around and occasionally splashing her pill pug, laughing freely.
Whether she was just playing around or actually bathing, it was hard to tell, but Namaari felt her lips curl up in a slight smile at the sight. All the times they had encountered one another before, Raya had been a tired and angry orphan. But now—this was a side of her that Namaari was briefly exposed to when she was thirteen and Raya twelve. Lively, fun, almost...happy.
Namaari had almost forgotten what happy looked like on her, which was upsetting, really, considering it was her favorite version of Raya whenever she appeared in her head.
Raya continued singing as she swam around, occasionally dipping her head back into the water and closing her eyes. She was singing nothing in particular, at least, no tunes that Namaari recognized. It was almost like a second thought, her singing, like how some enjoyed humming while they worked. Still, it was beautiful, like everything about Raya.
Namaari’s mouth went dry when Raya dipped her head forward this time, wet hair shining beneath the sun, then flipped her hair back, creating a water arc. She combed through her locks with her fingers, and Namaari had the brief thought of running her own fingers through her hair, detangling it for her.
Her fingers twitched on her reins.
Raya’s hair looked nicer than it had in past months, but that could’ve easily been because it was wet, hiding its struggles.
Raya, too, looked better than she had in all the times Namaari had seen her over the years. She must’ve still been on her own, her travel bag hanging against her animal companion, but maybe she was finally learning how to take care of herself. Her face and body were fuller, not thin and sullen. There were no bags under her eyes, at least, not that Namaari could tell from this distance. She was clean, as well, obviously. Where dirt and dust had made a home on her face before, it was clear and glowing beneath the sun now as she smiled warmly at her companion.
Though Namaari felt some relief, knowing that maybe now the princess wouldn’t starve to death and could most likely defend herself, a lump formed in her throat.
Raya looked fine now, her hair and body appearing to be healthy, but the water could be hiding a lot. Namaari had a creeping feeling that the pretty smile on her lips now would be gone in a matter of hours, replaced with the scowl she always saw on the girl when they faced each other. A brief moment of fun, of relaxing, couldn’t erase the fact that Raya had been forced to grow up too soon. She could take care of herself, sure, but at what cost? While Namaari had a home and a parent to return to, Raya had nothing, and it was Namaari’s fault.
How she ached to run her fingers through Raya’s hair now, holding her close and protecting her from the world. Not that Raya needed protection—she had clearly done just fine on her own for three years—but Namaari felt an obligation to do so. Nothing could fix what she had done, but that didn’t stop the pain in her chest that wanted to try and make things better.
Gritting her teeth, Namaari turned her serlot around and headed back to her scouts before Raya spotted her.
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Somehow, Namaari’s encounters with Raya became violent.
Namaari stopped running at seventeen, but that only allowed Raya to catch up with her, sword drawn.
Raya was angry these days. Her face was hard, though beautiful as ever, and her eyes were haunted. Simply looking into them sent chills down Namaari’s spine. They were eyes that shouldn’t belong to a sixteen year old girl, a child, but alas, Raya had been given no choice but to grow up before she should have, to face a cruel world on her own.
Her hair, too, was unruly. It was long, with many layers and split ends that suggested a number of poor attempts at haircuts. Raya kept it held back and in place these days with braiding on the top of her head.
It made fighting easier.
For Raya, anyway. Namaari never enjoyed their fights, despite the show she tended to put on to avoid suspicion from her fellow scouts who watched, ready to pounce if Namaari needed backup.
During their fights, Namaari always found herself distracted by her opponent. In particular, her hair. It was kept out of her face, but that didn’t keep it from brushing against Namaari as they fought with their blades.
Namaari still had a crazy wish to touch Raya’s hair with her hands, wild as the locks were. It was untamed, much like Raya herself, and Namaari wanted to smooth it down, make it as soft and healthy as it once was when she was twelve years old. Mend the wounds she was responsible for.
But it was impossible. It was more likely for the Druun to become good creatures than Namaari getting the chance to feel Raya’s hair, which was a reflection of her whole being, between her fingers.
Namaari would just have to deal with it only brushing against her as they fought one another, purely by accident and never on purpose. Maybe the real reason she stopped running was because she craved to be in Raya’s presence, in whatever way Raya would have her.
Even as bitter enemies.
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There was such a stark contrast between Namaari and Raya; they were so different, yet Namaari had been drawn to her ever since they first met. She never revealed this to anyone, not even to her mother. It was something that she had planned on keeping to herself, something she was embarrassed by. Here she was, the future leader of Fang, a strong land, yet she felt her walls collapsing the moment a pair of pretty brown eyes looked her way.
Raya was everything Namaari was not. Brave, kind, selfless by choice instead of obligation, a dreamer and a rule breaker. She pushed boundaries while Namaari had always chosen to remain within them. Namaari had always admired her, respected her, even when they were enemies and she was chasing the Heart princess in an endless game of cat and mouse. Namaari had been raised to be a leader, but Raya had been raised—for the first twelve years of her life, anyway—to be trusting, loving, and hopeful.
One of the most notable differences between them—physical at least—was their hair, Namaari was almost sure of it. She had always kept her hair clean and combed. A leader, after all, had to look the part. It was practical; she had cut it when she was young to mirror her mother’s, who was one of the most fearless leaders she knew, and never went back. To her, her hair meant discipline, cleanliness, and swiftness. It resembled the kind of person she was brought up to be.
Raya, on the other hand, had hair with a mind of its own. It was wild, free, vibrant, and that was what made it beautiful, even when it was a mess. And Namaari supposed that was just how Raya was as a person.
Her infatuation with Raya’s hair (and really, Raya herself, though that was too difficult to admit) made sense. Namaari, while disciplined and born to lead, was attracted to things that couldn’t be controlled, couldn’t be tamed. As a child, it was dragons. As an adult, it was Raya, her hair, everything she represented.
Namaari had heard the saying that opposites tended to attract one another. Light and dark, good and bad, disciplined and free.
But in those cases, the opposites weren’t supposed to be enemies.
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Out of all the possibilities that could’ve occurred during Namaari’s life, she never would have expected dragons to return. She never would have expected Kumandra to reform, humans coming together at last instead of being at odds.
She never would have expected to be friends, true friends, with Raya, Princess of Heart.
That was probably the most shocking.
Raya had forgiven her for her mistake six years ago, as well as for every mistake in between then and now. Namaari didn’t believe she deserved it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t accept whatever kindness Raya showed to her. She would work and put in the effort to prove she was sorry and regretted her past, but she would also accept Raya’s outstretched hand when it was offered.
Their friendship was tentative, at first. Awkward, too. But as the weeks following the return of the dragons and the defeat of the Druun went on, they relaxed into it, and became comfortable with one another.
They visited one another often. Raya became an emissary of sorts for her land, as the five kingdoms of Kumandra seemed to trust her the most. Liked her, even—as they should. Because of this, Raya continued to travel the world—every few weeks, instead of what she had been doing for six years—and spent plenty of time in Fang.
All the kingdoms came together to help with repairs and relief, particularly in Heart and in Fang. Namaari was one of the first to extend her aid, which was how she often ended up in Heart helping out with something. She had her own people to worry about, but her mother was still chief, and Namaari decided shortly after Kumandra reformed that she wanted to be a different leader once her mother stepped down. Fang was known for only worrying about themselves, having built a reputation as the least trustworthy kingdom in the world, but Namaari wanted to change that. She wanted to follow Raya’s lead and put trust in others—spread hope and kindness instead of remaining cold and secluded.
On one of Namaari’s visits to Heart, she noticed something different about Raya. Her hair was shorter—just a few inches—and neat. It still had a bit of rebellion and wildness to it, and Namaari suspected it always would, but she was happy to see that it seemed to be getting healthier. It bounced around Raya’s shoulders, full of richness and practically glowing. Raya was glowing, too; She had been ever since the world finally came together. Namaari had never seen her smile and laugh so much, and she wasn’t complaining in the slightest. Raya’s smile was art, her laughter music.
“Do I have something weird on my face?” Raya asked during Namaari’s visit, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
Namaari blinked at her, the realization that she had been caught staring hitting her full force. She turned her eyes to the view in front of her—Heart, still recovering, but beautiful as ever—as a blush warmed her cheeks.
“No,” Namaari replied, hoping she sounded nonchalant and not like she was avoiding a dangerous path. “Although you do have a pretty nasty blemish right here.” She gestured to Raya’s whole face, forcing down a smile at the indignant look she received. She took a bite of her dinner, Tom Yum prepared by Chief Benja, just to give her mouth something to do.
“You always say the nicest things to me, dep la.” Raya smiled at her sweetly, though her voice was dripping with sarcasm.
Namaari smirked in response, ignoring the way her heart was currently racing in her chest, and silence fell over them once more. It wasn’t awkward; they had gotten over that phase in their friendship relatively quickly. Simply being in Raya’s presence was nice, soothing. Namaari didn’t feel like she had to force a conversation with the princess, especially when one wasn’t needed.
After a few minutes, Namaari found the courage to say, “You cut your hair.”
Raya hummed, understanding crossing her visage. “Yeah. Not much, though.” As though unconsciously, she brought a hand up to run through her locks. Namaari watched the motion. “I figured I needed to look the part of a princess again, instead of some ruffian.”
Namaari held back a snort. The possibility of Raya ever resembling a ruffian, with her soft features and easy, heart-melting smile, was slim. She chose not to comment on it, though. One tease about her looks was enough for now. Too many and Raya could grow suspicious of how Namaari truly felt. “It looks good,” she settled on. “Healthy.”
Raya glanced at her, eyes soft. “I feel good,” she admitted in a gentle, almost reflective, tone. “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
Namaari’s eyes roamed over Raya’s face, open and peaceful, then to her hair, which was shining beneath the light of the setting sun. If she looked closely enough, she could see lingering damage from six years of neglect, but it was showing signs of healing, much like the world around them.
There were a number of damages from over the years, some of which would never truly be fixed. Namaari had seen Raya at her worst during it all, so to see her this calm now, to see how much better she looked compared to just weeks ago, was almost overwhelming.
Maybe some things would never fully heal, but perhaps that was okay. They could grow past it, overcome it. The world didn’t have to be perfect, just better, much like Raya was now.
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Namaari must have died and gone to the afterlife. That, or she was dreaming, because there was no way this was real.
Yet, the drying sweat on her body seemed real; Fang’s heat seemed real; the head in her lap seemed real.
Distantly, Namaari remembered the paperwork she needed to get done for the day, how she had only gotten through a handful of documents before Raya arrived from Heart that morning, pent up and needing to punch something after traveling for hours. But it could wait—there wasn’t as much as usual, anyway, because she always made sure to have a mostly free schedule when Raya visited—as she was sure her heart was close to bursting.
After an intense sparring session between the two of them (it took five rounds before Raya finally seemed to get it out of her system), they ended up resting beneath a large tree in the courtyard of Fang’s palace. There were children playing not too far from them, on a break from their lessons, and every now and then, one called out to Namaari to catch her attention, usually to show off, which brought a smile to her face.
Raya laughed at the children’s antics whenever this happened, and their easy conversation would pick back up. She caught Namaari up with the past couple weeks of her life, sliding in a couple funny stories, and Namaari caught her up on hers. From there, they talked about whatever trouble Sisu had recently gotten herself into, joked about other kingdom’s dignitaries, and exchanged playful banter.
Somehow, Raya ended up laying down with her head in Namaari’s lap, laughing and grinning up at Namaari as they caught up. They had become close in the months following Kumandra’s return, which still surprised Namaari considering their difficult past. Nevertheless, Raya had grown comfortable with Namaari, and vice versa, and physical touch by now was nothing new for them. Namaari guessed that six years with only an animal to keep company built up a lot of touch starvation, as Raya was physically affectionate with all her friends; maybe it was just Namaari’s hopeful imagination, but she got the feeling Raya was most physically affectionate with her, and it sent butterflies racing to her stomach.
It wasn’t too much later, while Namaari was telling her about a terrible joke her mother made the other day, that Raya’s eyes fluttered closed. Within minutes, her breathing had deepened. Namaari looked down at her, smiling softly. On the inside, her heart was doing flips. Raya trusted her enough to doze off in her lap; she felt safe around Namaari, and there was no greater compliment in the entire world.
Hesitantly, Namaari brought a hand to Raya’s head, letting her fingers slowly bury themselves in her hair before dragging them downwards, nails scraping against Raya’s skin. Namaari had to let out a breath at how soft her hair was—softer than Namaari had imagined in all the years she admired the girl from afar.
She ran her fingers through Raya’s hair a few more times, indulging in its beauty. In just a few months, it had healed significantly, much like Raya herself. There were only a few tangles—from their sparring—which Namaari gently worked through, like how she used to daydream about.
Her fingers traced over the braided part of her hair at the top of her head, suddenly filled with the urge to braid Raya’s hair herself. She pushed it down, though, not wanting to wake the girl up, or worse, have to explain why she was braiding her hair to begin with. Namaari would never live it down.
Beneath her, Raya stirred, nose scrunching up as she regained consciousness. Well, so much for trying to not disturb her.
Namaari slowly retracted her hand from where it was resting behind Raya’s head, face burning. Raya had to have felt her hand in her hair—why else was she waking up after only falling asleep less than ten minutes ago?
Frozen, Namaari watched with bated breath as Raya blinked her eyes open, squinting up at Namaari with a small frown.
“Why’d you stop, binturi?” Raya mumbled, eyes falling shut again before the sentence was even complete.
Oh.
Namaari gaped down at her. The lack of response didn’t sit well with Raya, clearly, as she grumbled incoherently—Namaari learned quickly into their friendship that Raya was moody upon waking up—and blindly reached a hand out, feeling around until it landed on Namaari’s wrist. She guided it back to her scalp, turning her head into Namaari’s body as she did so.
A feeling of pure, raw love ran through Namaari’s body, causing her to shiver and close her own eyes.
Namaari was in love, hopelessly so, with Raya, Princess of Heart.
With this overwhelming realization flooding every one of Namaari’s senses, filling every nook and cranny of her body, of her being until she was numb, Namaari could only swallow thickly and do as Raya requested.
In her lap, Raya hummed with satisfaction.
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“You do realize the party starts in one hour, right?”
Before Namaari stood Raya in the doorway of her chambers in Heart’s palace, still dressed in casual clothing and hair hanging around her shoulders, sticking up here and there as though she had just woken up. She was far from being ready for that evening. People from the other kingdoms were already beginning to arrive.
Raya scowled at her. “Really? I had no idea,” she threw over her shoulder, voice dripping with sarcasm, as she turned to head back into her room. She left the door open, a silent invitation for Namaari to enter.
“Why are you here, anyway?” she questioned, sarcasm gone, plopping down in front of her vanity and reaching for her comb. “Not that I don’t love your company, of course.”
The ease that rolled off of Raya’s tongue as she said that caused Namaari’s belly to flip. She tried not to focus on it. “I ran into your father downstairs, and he asked me to check on you. Said he hadn’t seen you since breakfast.” Namaari followed her and leaned against the vanity, crossing her arms and watching in amusement as Raya attempted to get the knots out of her hair.
“Well, I’ve just been busy,” Raya replied, shrugging even as she winced. It was a clear lie, and they both knew it.
Namaari’s lips curled up in a smirk. “Fell asleep?”
“No.” Raya scoffed, then cursed as her comb hit another tangle. Her eyes dropped down to the vanity, avoiding Namaari. “Maybe.”
Namaari chuckled. It had been a year since Kumandra reformed, which was cause for celebration. A week-long celebration, to be exact. Across the world, the five kingdoms were celebrating in their own ways with parties, festivals, and more. Anyone was welcome, of course; the festivities weren’t exclusive to just one kingdom’s citizens. Just two days before, Namaari had roamed through Spine’s festival with Raya.
Today, though, was the final day of the celebrations, and Heart was opening their arms to the whole world. There was the main party in the palace, starting in one hour, but people had been celebrating all day with festivities and fun down in the village. All five kingdoms were expected in attendance, at least the chiefs and their families and anyone of importance. Raya and Namaari, of course, in addition to being the princesses of two of the kingdoms, were guests of honor, as they played important roles in saving the world.
And here Raya was, the one mostly responsible for Kumandra’s return, the one who had earned respect and inspired awe throughout the kingdoms...not ready for the biggest event of the week. She had been sleeping, for Dragons’ sake.
Namaari had never been more smitten.
“I was up all night,” Raya defended, still struggling with her hair. Wordlessly, Namaari pushed herself up from her perch and circled around her, holding out her hand. With a small huff, Raya dropped the comb into her hand and leaned back a little.
“Doing something, or could you not sleep?” Namaari set to work on her hair. Even though she was gentle with the tangles, Raya still tensed beneath her whenever Namaari ran the bristles through a particularly big one.
“Yes,” Raya replied shortly. She brought her knees up on the chair, hugging them to her chest. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to go for a walk.”
“And how long was this walk?”
“...three hours.”
Namaari sighed. Raya had a problem with sleep. For the past year, she had had a problem with sleep. She confided to Namaari that it was because she was still adjusting to this life, one she didn’t have for six years. It was hard to sleep in a bed when she had been sleeping on the ground for the most part for years. It was hard to let herself fall into a deep sleep because she had to always be alert during her time alone. It was hard to fall asleep knowing there were people right down the hall from her. It was hard to sleep peacefully when nightmares were a common occurrence in her slumber.
“You should’ve woken me. I would’ve kept you company.” Namaari ran the comb through Raya’s hair a few times. Knot free. She handed the comb back to Raya and began braiding her hair into an updo.
Raya shook her head, then smiled apologetically when Namaari stopped to cup her cheeks from behind, holding her still. “That wouldn’t be fair to you, dep la. You got in late last night.”
Her consideration for Namaari warmed her heart, but Namaari still rolled her eyes. “You know I never mind making time for you, Raya.”
Raya went quiet at that, her face slowly turning a light shade of pink.
Maybe Namaari went too far, but Raya’s reaction didn’t seem to imply that, so she continued fixing her hair as they sat in silence.
Namaari was already put together, had been for a while now, so she wasn’t in any hurry. Plus, she enjoyed getting to do Raya’s hair, even though they exchanged few words. Raya seemed to enjoy it as well. Every now and then, she let out an occasional sigh, shoulders relaxing, as Namaari’s nails scraped across her scalp to gather hair.
Raya’s hair was like silk in between Namaari’s fingers, almost slippery with how soft it was these days. A year of proper washing and occasional trims would do that. It was still a tad unruly, but that was expected with hair as thick and bursting with health as Raya’s. From her spot behind her, Namaari could catch a whiff of her shampoo, a sweet, intoxicating vanilla smell.
There were still signs of years spent in the sun, though they were nothing drastic now, and if Namaari was being honest, they were quite beautiful, as they fit Raya well. There were strands that were a lighter brown than the others, bleached by the sun. Namaari loved the highlights, just as she loved every part of Raya. They were signs of her struggle and her strength, and how she had beat all the odds. When pulled back into the updo, they almost looked like gold woven into Raya’s hair.
Even though they were gained through hardship, they reflected Raya’s current being. She was a different person now than she was a year ago—happier, lighter—anyone could see that. Her hair, once a mirror of her struggles, was healed now and thriving just as she was.
Once Namaari finished, she glanced at Raya’s reflection and smiled softly. “There. Beautiful.”
Though she meant the compliment for all of Raya, it could easily be interpreted as solely for her hair.
Raya chewed on her bottom lip as she examined herself, a blush spreading on her face. “Thank you,” she murmured, meeting Namaari’s eyes in the mirror.
It was like an electrical current spread through the room. Neither tore their eyes away from the other. Namaari fought back the urge to lean down and press a kiss to the braids on top of Raya’s head.
“You should get dressed,” she said, voice not much louder than a whisper, breaking the electricity.
Raya dropped her eyes and nodded. “Right.”
When she stood up, she paused in front of Namaari and opened her mouth as if to speak, but shut it quickly. With a tiny smile, she reached forward and caught a strand of Namaari’s hair in between her two fingers. Namaari held her breath. They were so close, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Raya could hear how hard her heart was beating. Namaari kept her eyes on Raya’s face as she dragged her fingers down gently until they no longer held Namaari’s hair captive.
Namaari closed her eyes, missing the way Raya’s lips parted and how her gaze briefly dropped to Namaari’s lips. When she opened them again, Raya was gone to put on her formal wear behind her changing screen.
Later that evening, as they stood outside with everyone else, exhausted but excited for the fireworks that would end the celebration, the back of Raya’s hand ghosted against Namaari’s.
The fireworks before them were forgotten as thousands went off in Namaari’s body. She briefly glanced at Raya, whose attention was on the show, then down at their hands, still brushing against one another.
Hesitantly, Namaari reached out and clasped Raya’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Raya didn’t even seem phased by it; she only smiled and squeezed Namaari’s hand before tilting her head down to rest on Namaari’s shoulder. She fit perfectly in the crook of Namaari’s neck.
Namaari would recount to her mother in the morning that the show was breathtaking, but in reality, she hardly even noticed them. She was more entranced by the beautiful woman at her side. Once her enemy, now her closest friend.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Shortly after that, they entered a relationship together.
Quite literally the next day, actually. Namaari had slept in Raya’s chambers at her request (and by “request,” she meant lots of begging and big, pleading, puppy eyes), and Raya kissed her as they prepared themselves to go down to breakfast the following morning. Namaari didn’t remember much after that.
Living hours away from one another, on top of being responsible for their own lands, made being with one another hard at times. Namaari wanted to be with Raya all the time; she wanted to go to bed together and wake up with Raya in her arms every day, no matter how grumpy she could be; she wanted to share her meals with Raya; she wanted to be able to take a break from working whenever she pleased just to go and spar or simply spend time with her girlfriend. But she supposed being apart made being together that much more special. Not that they ever went more than a couple weeks without at least an overnight visit.
Namaari wasn’t shy about touching Raya’s hair once they started dating. In fact, she loved it. She found herself running her fingers through it absentmindedly when they were together, and occasionally braiding parts of it when Raya would cooperate and hold still for her (Namaari usually only did this when Raya was asleep or resting against her).
Raya, though she sometimes teased Namaari for always playing with her hair, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. She would sigh happily when Namaari’s fingernails scraped against her scalp and moan in relief when Namaari would gently pull her hair out of an updo following an event. When they kissed, Namaari liked to bury her hands in Raya’s thick locks, holding her head as though she were the Dragon Gem, the most precious thing in the world, something that must be protected—to Namaari, she was. During more intense, intimate moments between them, Raya liked to have her hair pulled. Namaari was always careful and made sure to give her lots of gentle affection and care afterwards.
Raya had even taken to leaving in a few of Namaari’s smaller braids. When Namaari asked about them one day, why Raya didn’t take them out, Raya responded in the most easy, innocent voice that she wanted to keep a part of Namaari with her always, even when they couldn’t be together physically; when she felt the braids between her fingers or brushing against her neck, she felt Namaari, which was an immediate comfort. Namaari had kissed her until she was gasping for air and her lips were swollen that day.
They had come a long way in just a year. Raya was in a much better place; she was happier and healthier. Her hair shone beneath the sun and was softer than the finest silk. There was a lot of it, being long and thick, and it was intense—much like Raya’s love for others. Somehow, Namaari became an object of that intense, raw, almost overwhelming at times, love, and it was something she would never, ever take for granted. Raya’s love was the greatest gift in the entire universe.
“I love you,” Raya breathed against Namaari’s chest one night, head resting there as they laid outside and gazed at the stars.
Though it was evident that Raya loved her simply because she was Raya, someone with the biggest heart Namaari had ever seen, hearing it out loud for the first time made the skin on Namaari’s arms stand up.
“I love you, too,” Namaari replied softly, unable to hide the emotion trembling in her voice. She pulled Raya a bit closer.
Raya hummed, a smile in the sound, and pushed herself up a little to face Namaari. There was a twinkle in her eyes, the same mischievous twinkle that usually meant she was up to no good.
“Good to know we’re on the same page.” Her smile turned into a joking smirk, and really, Namaari had no other choice but to roll her eyes and guide Raya down until their lips met in a deep, languid kiss. Around them, Raya’s hair formed a curtain, blocking them out from the rest of the world; there was no better place Namaari would rather be.