Chapter Text
In a small hidden village, nestled deep in the emerald forests of Eldermoor, a young couple lived together in a modest stone cottage. The young man was named Weisz, tall, lean, and blonde—a type who always tried to be helpful despite being quite solitary. The girl, petite in both body and height, with beautiful sky-blue hair, called herself "Hermit," though her real name was Mio.
The two lived in their humble home, built at the edge of the village in the forest, yet close to the imposing mountains of the kingdom. Their house reflected the peacefulness of their quiet lives, in their small, tranquil world, with their simple work and the rare outings they allowed themselves among people. Everything between them was absolutely ordinary—except for one secret, one that no one in the village knew: Weisz had wings. Majestic, colossal wings that glittered in the golden sunlight but had the purity of moonlight, as though drawn from the essence of the heavens themselves.
The blonde had always felt like an outcast because of his wings. They made him different, even strange in the eyes of those around him. Most days, he kept them tightly folded against his back, hidden under a cloak, and only at night would he spread them in all their splendor, but only in the safety of their home, away from prying eyes. It was Hermit, his dearest companion and the only one who knew his secret, who took care of them with great tenderness, as if handling the most fragile thing in the world. She would brush them, massage the tense muscles at the base of the wings, and make sure they were healthy. She understood them, perhaps even more than he did.
He remembered the first time he had shown them to her. Anyone else would have run away, but the girl was particularly fascinated. So much so that the night he revealed his secret to her was also the night they made love for the first time, under the moonlight, in the meadow near a lake. Never had there been an intensity stronger than that, not even a ring on her finger back then.
Because yeah, Hermit was different too. She was educated and could read, something that set her apart from Weisz, a simple, illiterate country boy.
She had come to the village long ago, reserved, often lost in thought, but her delicate hands were always gentle and sure as she cared for him. The young man had always wondered why she was so passionate about taking care of his wings, why her expression became so solemn and bittersweet when she worked on them. He had never dared to ask her what had happened. That feeling seemed too personal to explore.
Moreover, Hermit had always maintained a certain distance about it, a wall of privacy that even he, as her closest friend at first, and later as her lover and husband, had learned not to cross. She never let him into that private space, and he respected that decision.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans.
One late afternoon, after a long day of work in the village, Weisz returned home. The cottage was bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, casting long shadows on the wooden floors.
Hermit wasn’t in the kitchen or near the hearth, where she usually sat working on some delicate invention or reading one of her old scrolls. Curious, Weisz walked down the narrow hallway toward the dim light.
The door to their bedroom was slightly ajar. He hesitated, feeling uneasy as if he were intruding on her space, but something—whether intuition or mere chance—pushed him to continue. He took a few light steps, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots as he peeked inside.
Hermit was there, standing in front of a mirror. Her dress draped lightly over her slim figure, the fabric pulled down enough to reveal her bare back.
Weisz’s breath caught in his throat when he noticed something he had never seen before.
Scars.
Deep, jagged scars marked her shoulder blades, long healed but unmistakably brutal. They marred the pale skin of her back, tracing the length of what Weisz suddenly realized had once been wings.
His heart raced. As a married couple, they had obviously shared intimacy, but the girl never allowed it in the morning light or let him touch her much during. "Because I'm embarrassed," she would say, taking advantage of the moonlight that prevented him from seeing much. She also always kept her long, well-kept hair down her back, with clothes that always covered her. So, even when he kissed the back of her neck occasionally, he had never noticed anything.
Now, it all had a completely different meaning.
The room seemed stifling as the weight of this new revelation overwhelmed him.
Hermit, his beloved Mio, wasn’t just a solitary and unusual human as he had thought.
She was like him.
He must have made a sound because the girl turned suddenly, her blue eyes wide with a mix of shock and pain. She quickly grabbed the fabric of her dress, pulling it up to cover the scars. “Why are you here?” she whispered, her voice tense, not with anger, but with something much deeper.
“I… I didn’t mean to—" the boy stammered, taking a step back. "I didn’t know…” His eyes softened, but he said nothing, his gaze shifting away from hers.
For a long moment, the room was heavy with silence, the air between them thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, Weisz found the courage to ask the question that had been tormenting him. “What happened to you?”
Hermit’s shoulders sagged as she sighed, the tension leaving her body like a long-held breath. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands nervously clutching the fabric of her skirt.
For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer, but then, in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper, she began to speak.
“A long time ago,” she began, her eyes distant as if looking into a past that still haunted her, “I too had wings. Beautiful, powerful wings, just like yours.” She paused, her hands trembling slightly. “But they were taken from me. Ripped from my back by those who feared what I was.”
Weisz felt a lump form in his throat. The thought that someone had hurt Hermit so brutally made his stomach turn. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked, his voice gentle but pained. She gave him a sad smile. “Because it’s not something I like to remember. I’ve lived with these scars for so long that they’ve become a part of me. But when I found you, when I saw your wings…” She paused for a moment, her voice cracking with emotion. “It was like a part of me that I thought I had lost came back. Taking care of your wings, in some strange way, helped me heal. It made me feel whole again.”
Weisz felt a wave of emotion wash over him, an overwhelming desire to comfort her, to protect her from the pain she had carried for so long.
He crossed the room in a few steps, kneeling before her, his hands gently resting on hers. “You’ve given me so much, Hermit. More than I deserve.” His voice was thick with emotion. “I’m sorry I didn’t know about this sooner.”
“You couldn’t have known, I couldn’t tell you,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with tears. “But… you’ve helped me too, in more ways than you can imagine.”
For a moment, they remained there, the unspoken connection between them deepening in the silence of the room. The blonde gently reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “I want to take care of you too,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper.
Hermit’s sky-blue eyes met his, the distance between them shrinking until it disappeared completely. Their lips met in a sweet, tender kiss, filled with all the emotions they had kept hidden for so long, fear, pain, desire, and above all, love.
When they pulled apart, the blue-haired girl rested her forehead against his, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.
“I guess we’re not so different after all,” she murmured with a bittersweet smile.
The blonde chuckled softly, his wings fluttering slightly behind him. “Maybe we’re more alike than we thought.”