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The high walls around the castle courtyard are cold in the hours just after dawn, but Soleil is too distracted to notice, kicking her heels against the stones and staring out over the morning bustle as if the people will spell out some sort of answer. She perches high above them all, as she has many days before, familiar enough with the height that it no longer makes her nervous. She goes there to think, because it is far away and high above, and because she must make quiet a striking figure, legs dangling down, head cocked to one side, sunrise at her back.
My her accounting, she has told Ophelia “I love you” four times now.
The first time was when they met, and in hindsight, that might have been part of the problem.
The second was when they had agreed to be friends, slow and simple. Everything before that had been something of a flustered rush, and that day was marked in Soleil’s mind as the real start things. She’d made a note of it so that, years in the future, they would be able to look back together on it. In that moment, the words had been a promise to that future self, spoken proudly with a nod and a wink.
The third time, the words had slipped out in something that Soleil would never personally admit to being a mumble. She simply didn’t mumble, but they had been, perhaps, a little bit quieter than usual. The two of them had been walking back to camp, tired from the battle, somewhere a little behind the largest group, and Soleil had glanced over at Ophelia.
Her shoulders were hunched, pulled in, and she clutched her magic tome against her chest with one hand, using the other to tuck a brush of hair behind her ear. She was mouthing something, lips moving around strange words in silent concentration as she stared at the dirt two paces ahead of her shuffling feet. And then she had stopped, dead in her tracks, lifting her shoulders and looking up with a satisfied smile, biting her lower lip as some last, secret thought fell into place.
Soleil had stopped too, hesitantly. They hadn’t been walking together, exactly, but they’d been walking near each other, and it was important to stay close, to make sure no one got left behind.
Beside, curiosity mixed with a heavy dose of head-rushing, heart-pounding attraction made for a powerful force indeed. Even if she had been carrying some magical paper that could end the war, Soleil wagered, even if the life of a hundred people was waiting for her arrival, she would have been hard pressed not to stop in that moment, and smile in response, to hold one elbow and wrap the other hand around her chin thoughtfully, head tilted like an expectant dog.
Ophelia had bubbled to the surface from the depths of her thoughts, finally catching notice of Soleil only a few seconds later, and she had blushed and ducked her head at the scrutiny.
“Is everything alright?”
“I was crafting a new spell,” Ophelia whispered conspiratorially, leaning in. “A dark magic that will wrap itself around our enemies and drain their life force into me, so I may cut through them like an unstoppable blade.” She paused. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“No, I was just curious. I mean, you’re my friend, right? I love-”
That’s where it had all gone wrong, because for some reason the words had lodged themselves firmly against her teeth, and Soleil had to bite them almost in two just to send them tumbling out.
“I love you, it’s only right that I should wait and make sure you are alright, and anyway, so, it’s not important, and we should,” Soleil finished, sighing out the last word, “go.”
Ophelia looked at her for a moment, then stepped forward, looping an arm through Soleil’s and nudging her forward.
Oh, how it had all become so foggy, because by the forth time, they didn’t even feel like real words anymore. How could they be the right ones, and yet always say so much less than she wanted? It wasn’t fair. They’d betrayed her.
That last time was mixed up with the feeling of Ophelia’s head against her shoulder, the smell of fire and late evening, and with the sound of humming. It was hard for Soleil to pull out her own words from the mix, because every time she thought of it, her heart did flips and her mind rather buzzed with the memory of her name whispered in a sleepy mumble.
“Soleil?” Ophelia had asked, and Soleil had let her tuneless humming fade, hands stilling in their movements.
“Yes?”
It had been late, and far from the safety of the castle, in one of those uneasy hiccups before a battle, and the whole camp had settled into restless routine, caring for the mounts, cooking hot meals, polishing weapons. Soleil had been shining her sword to a gleam sharp enough to stop any monster in its tracks, but she lowered it down against her leg, quiet, slow, waiting for Ophelia to speak again.
“You know, I may be a Chosen One, and my power is far beyond any here, probably, but...”
She vibrated a cautious “hmmm” against Soleil’s arm before continued. “Thank you for fighting with me. You make me feel safe.”
Soleil had let out her breath, which was a mistake, because then Ophelia had added, “I love you,” and there was nothing left in her to croak out the right response.
It was barely a wisp, sliding out, a quiet “I love you too,” and it must not have been enough, because Ophelia waited a moment, and yawned sleepily, and said, “you are my closest friend, Soleil.”
Which was... everything. But it also wasn’t right.
That was what had lead Soleil to her not-quiet-secret spot atop the walls, and that was the problem she turned over, slapping her palms against the stones in frustration. It had never been this hard with a girl before. The blushes, the winks the slow glances and whispered promises, they came easily enough, they all meant the same thing.
Usually.
A rock hits her boot, and when Soleil sees Ophelia standing below her, she is not sure if she ought to thank the gods or curse them. Ophelia is saying something, shouting it really, but Soleil ignores it, stealing herself and turning to shimmy down the wall, fingers brushing easily from rock to rock in a controlled fall.
She lands with a soft “oof,” brushing herself off and turning to face Ophelia.
“I was trying to inquire as to your intentions, perched up their like some sort of bird of prey, but it seems you have given up the task.”
Soleil cracks a smile, trying to ignore the fluttering of her hands against her thighs, summoning all the sly confidence she’s ever had. “Or maybe I found my target.”
Ophelia huffs, but she smiles. “Is there something that you wished to say to me, then? Is that why you were keeping watch all the way up there? If so, you were not doing a good job of it. An entire war could have passed under your nose undetected.”
“N-no, well,” Soleil stutters out, refusing to be set off track, “I was thinking about stuff. But I do have something I want to tell you.”
There is a silence. A pause. “Yes?”
Shuffling closer, Soleil steals herself. It’s hardly the ideal place, there are no flowers, for one, and it’s not at sunset. But it will have to do.
“I need to tell you, sweet lady Ophelia, that I... I love you.” She sweeps into a bow, doing her best to imitate the rich tones she’s heard her father use when trying to suck up with her mother.
“Is that all? I love you as well.”
“What?” Soleil straightens. “No, no, I... you don’t understand!” She reaches out, grabbing Ophelia’s hand and tugging her closer. “I do not mean as friends, or comrades.” She can hear her voice getting grander, her tone more imposed and distant. Soleil hopes, rather in vain, that perhaps that will cover up the shakiness of her words. “I mean that I love you, passionately, am in love with you and have been for an age! That I, I-”
She meets Ophelia’s gaze, and it’s not one of unhappiness, or even one of surprise. They stare at each other for a moment, Soleil shifting between heart throbbing desire and a sort of dull, frustrated confusion.
Ophelia steps forward. She’s almost a head shorter that Soleil, but she leans onto her tiptoes so they are just about eye to eye. Her hand slips around Soleil’s waist, and then she laughs. It’s a kind laugh, mostly.
“The Chosen One always knows what others mean when they speak to her. The clouds may cover the sky, but the stars will always shine.”
And Soleil says, “um?”
She thinks that she could probably puzzle through it, if she had a second, but Ophelia’s fingers are crawling around her neck and threading through her hair, and there is hardly time to breath, let alone think, before they are kissing.
It’s a good kiss, all things considered, perhaps a little rushed, but she’s quite proud of her recovery, the way she leans forward into it, tipping Ophelia around her body and into the most modest of dips. Not a perfect execution, and their teeth clack together in the movement of the turn, which is unfortunate, but, well, they have time to work on things like that, don’t they?
When they both come up for air, sheepishly checking that no one else from camp was watching them, Ophelia grabs Soleil’s hand and leans in against her.
“I love you too, Soleil.”