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She scrolls through her tomestone while occasionally sipping on some chocolate milk. It's never warm enough to wear aught less than a coat here in Garlemald, but this year's spring promises to be very mild. At now sixteen years of age, and after a lot of work, she has gained enough skill in aether manipulation to start training as a healer in earnest. Three more moons until graduation and then she will be entering the medical collegium, since her application has already been approved.
It will be her first taste of freedom in a long time, because Zenos, her shadow, will join the army instead. Doubtlessly off to a bright future as legatus. She sincerely wishes him success. When they part, it shouldn't be on bad terms. Their time together wasn't all bad.
"What are you thinking about?"
She glances over casually and finds him already watching her. It's always been hard to tell what he's thinking since his expression never really changes and his eyes remain hard to read, even after all these years.
"Oh, you know. The future," she replies with a shrug and returns her attention to her tomestone.
"Graduation," he specifies in a knowing tone.
He shifts into a lazy sideway slouch. Leaning towards her. The long corn blond curtain of his hair is an ilm away from touching her left shoulder. He is displeased. It has always been his wont to look for contact when he is disturbed by something. Today, she doesn't feel indulgent and remains idle.
"Mhm," she hums as she reads a news article.
"You ought to join the army. With a heritage such as yours, you would make rank swiftly."
She narrowly refrains from rolling her eyes. Of course he can't let it go. Of course not. Zenos is the most stubborn man alive.
"I will leave that to you," she mutters.
"I do not understand your reason," he confesses. "I have seen you fight. You excel at it."
"But I don't like it," she replies calmly.
"You would waste your potential over such a feeling?" He sounds genuinely confused.
She has seen and heard enough about his upbringing to know that something like that would never be tolerated from him. The High Legatus would sooner bury his son than to allow him to 'fail'. Not even her mother -who, ironically, is friends with him- could whitewash his behaviour towards Zenos. She's seen the bruises. They were the strongest argument against abandoning him.
"Zenos," she sing songs and tugs gently at a strand of hair. "Wanting to heal people is not 'wasting' one's potential."
"I do not understand," he mutters quietly and she can tell that it vexes him.
There is something very wrong with Zenos yae Galvus. She knows this as surely as she knows that she cannot fix him. All she can really do is to be there. It may be the only thing that helps. At least he hasn't mauled anyone anymore after she abandoned all efforts to make other friends. It's not like she isn't benefitting from this arrangement, either. Garlemald is not fond of savages and especially not half-savages, which they regard as the result of a moral failing. With the crown prince as her constant shadow, no one dares to give her so much as a queer look.
She weighs the risk of running a hand through his hair and scratching his scalp, a gesture which he enjoys so immensely that he will not even let the school bell interrupt it, when she spots him across the cafeteria. Heat shoots into her face immediately and her heart does a very complicated jump before it starts to pound. The most wonderful centerpiece of all her secret desires. Legatus van Baelsar, who occasionally holds political lectures for the upperclassmen at the academy. A middle aged man of such roguishly good looks and charisma that it becomes excessively difficult to hide her crush. Hide it she must, that is out of the question. Zenos stirs besides her. She doesn't know why, but he seems to have a sixth sense for this kind of stuff.
"Is aught amiss?" He asks calmly.
"Huh? Why?" She asks and glances up at him from her tomestone, trying hard not to grip it too firmly.
"I thought I heard a gasp," he murmurs and casually sweeps his gaze across the room, but the legatus has already left so she remains at ease.
A knot forms in her stomach as she worries that he might suspect something. She knows what he's capable of. Zenos may not understand people, but he can read them very well. It has made hiding this tiny morsel of information from him a true challenge.
It's not like she was looking to grow a crush on anybody in the first place. Avoided it for this very reason, in fact. The Legatus just showed up one day when she wasn't expecting it and held an impassioned, brilliant speech about the importance of integrating conquered peoples into Garlean society and not treating them as second-class citizens. It was the first time she heard a Garlean of noble birth and high standing not looking down on savages, as she'd come to expect from her betters, but publicly advocating for them. His rhetoric was flawless and even the snobbiest of her classmembers were enraptured by his speech. When he took his helmet off at the end to wet his throat with a glass of water, she was absolutely done for. Never had she seen such a good looking man. It awakened feelings inside her she'd never felt before and ever since then she has been longing for the days she gets to see him again.
When she glances up again, she catches him staring intensely at her face. It's not unusual per se, but it still makes her feel a little queasy right now. Her mother assured her that the Third Eye does not give Garleans mind-reading powers. They do not have political science class together, either. She forces herself to remain calm and raises her brows at him.
"Something wrong?"
"I do not know," he replies quietly as he glances between her eyes. "Yet."
"Come on," she groans and rubs at her forehead. "Stop it."
He leans sideways again and demonstratively tilts her heads towards her. It serves as a reminder to the general public that she is special, as well as being a silent demand for her to indulge him. She glances at the chronometer on the wall and groans quietly.
"Zenos, break is about to end. Come on," she wheedles, but he does not relent. "We are going to be late."
"And?" He asks in an utterly unaffected tone.
Ah, that's right. She swallows quietly and lifts her hand. Who's going to admonish the future Emperor, or his favored friend? No one at the academy would dare. They all know where their funding comes from. She works her fingers into his silky hair and gently scritches at his scalp. He does not quite purr, but his head moves with her touch and she hears some content sighs. His hair has grown so long that the tips now tickle her thighs. She remembers when it barely brushed his shoulders. Has it truly been so long? Perhaps she should have done more to end this unholy relationship early on. Nobody else ever seemed to grasp the extent of his obsession.
The bell rings and all around them students, who try very hard not to stare, begin to rise and grab their things. She keeps her gaze on her tomestone, scrolling down mindlessly as she waits. Zenos decides when they're done. He always does. They never are.