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The Seventh Heaven theatre ship hovered just above the main square of Alexandria, a black shadow against the setting sun, as a small crowd was already gathered under it. Aerith buried her smile in her crossed arms as she leaned on her windowsill. Almost time.
She could hear faint music coming from the ship—a lively tune meant to entertain the waiting crowd while Seventh Heaven finished docking operations. It was the overture for the evening’s show, but it wasn’t music Aerith had ever heard before—shame that she would miss the new play.
There was a knock at the door. “Your Highness?” came Elmyra’s voice from just outside.
Aerith straightened up, rubbing at the lines imprinted on her face by the sleeves of her dress. “Yes? Come in.”
Elmyra quietly pushed the door open and did a small curtsy. “Ma’am,” she started, “your box is almost ready.”
Aerith nodded and stood up. “Thank you, Elmyra.” She smoothed down her skirt. “I’ll get going in a moment.”
Her attendant curtsied again, then paused. “Ma’am,” she repeated, sounding weary. “Are you going to…?”
“Enjoy my night?” Aerith giggled. “Most definitely.”
Elmyra sighed. “Of course. Pardon me.” She bowed her head, then swiftly exited the room.
Aerith turned back to the window. Seventh Heaven was fully anchored and secured, now. She smiled. Almost time.
The sun had fully set by the time Aerith stepped into her private box on the walls wrapped around the square where the theatre ship was parked. Her mother, sat in her throne at the highest point of the ring, shot her a single look before shaking her head. Her father didn’t even glance her way. Aerith frowned a bit.
Below her, the stage was set up for some sort of fantasy play, if the purple trees were anything to go by. The square was filled to the brim with curious spectators, like it was every time Seventh Heaven was in town. Which wasn’t nearly often enough, in Aerith’s opinion. She sat down in her seat and leaned back, then closed her eyes. The overture was playing again, but it had a softer tone now. Aerith wondered what kind of story it accompanied. A fairy tale, maybe, or perhaps a romance.
The door of the box opened quietly, then closed. Aerith bit down a smile.
He cleared his throat. “Princess Aerith?” he asked, as though he didn’t know.
Aerith didn’t turn. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Who’s asking?”
She heard him sigh, halfway between fond and exasperated. “Just, um, someone from the troupe.”
“Oh?” Aerith turned her head just a bit, but he was keeping to the back corner of the box, where no one could see him from the outside. “And what’s someone from the troupe doing all the way up here?”
“Side gig.” There was a bit of a laugh in his voice. “Got hired to kidnap Princess Aerith. That you?”
“My, kidnapping the princess? What for?” she asked, fighting the giggle in her own voice.
Even without seeing him, she knew he’d shrugged. The motion was so clear and familiar in her mind that she could almost see it. “Dunno. Ransom, maybe. Or murder. Could be both. I’m just the middleman.”
She laughed and finally stood up from her seat to face him fully. “We must stop meeting like this,” she said, linking her hands behind her back.
Cloud snorted out a half laugh too. “I take it you are the Princess?”
“Right.” She grinned, stepping a bit closer to him. “It’s good to see you.”
He hummed. “You too.” He looked well. Relaxed against the wall, lazily drumming his fingers over his crossed arms. Aerith noticed he was a little tanned too, though there was a sunburn dusting his cheeks, nose, and shoulders. Cute, she thought. Her chest ached with just how much she’d missed him.
“Been anywhere fun lately?” she asked as she tossed a look to the stage. The lights had dimmed. Almost time.
Cloud shrugged. “Mostly Lindblum. Ship needed repairs.”
“After my last daring escape?”
He shook his head. “Run-in with Burmecian sky pirates.” He glared at her, but only kind of. “Not the best time to find out our gunpowder storage was frozen solid, though.”
Aerith waved a hand in the air. “Oh, that could have been anyone.”
He snorted again. “Right.”
She smiled and winked at him. Had to make it look good, right?
Below them, the crowd quieted for a moment right before the string section of the orchestra came in for the first scene of the play. Aerith folded her hands in her lap to keep herself from bouncing in excitement and turned towards the stage as actors in bird masks filed out from the wings. “It sounds beautiful. What kind of story is it?”
Cloud, still keeping to the side of the box, took a step closer to her. “One that Tifa’s been wanting to put on for ages. Something about a princess trapped in a tower.”
Aerith giggled and brought her hands to her chest. “That’s familiar.”
There was a small pause. Then he said, quietly, “You’re not trapped, though.”
She turned to find him holding out a hand for her to take.
“Ready?”
She put her hands on her hips. “You’ve got some gall, asking your victim if she’s ready to be kidnapped.” He just raised an eyebrow. Aerith giggled and took his hand. “Let’s go.”
The castle was virtually empty—it always was when Seventh Heaven was in town. Aerith and Cloud quietly made their way through the shadowed halls; his launch was parked just outside the garden gates, he’d said. He’d tried to let go of her hand once they’d left the upper ring of the amphitheatre, but she’d held on tight. It was just for a little while, after all. She had to make the most of it. So, he was still leading her by the hand when they came up to the fourth floor balcony overlooking the gardens.
“Um,” said Aerith, letting go of him to glance over the edge. “You know there’s a perfectly good set of stairs, right? Two, even.”
Cloud shrugged. “This is faster.” He pulled out a coil of rope with a grappling hook at the end from behind a curtain. He raised an eyebrow. “You scared?”
Aerith scoffed. “As if. Just floored by your flair for the dramatics. And, uh—” She motioned down at herself. “I am wearing a dress. This is gonna be tricky.”
It wasn’t a fancy dress or anything like that. A wide skirt to allow for range of movement, a thick pinafore over it, leather gloves and boots. But it was still a dress. Nothing like Cloud’s getup—practical trousers and a leather vest, perfect for blending in with normal citizens as well as spiriting princesses away.
Cloud thought it over for a moment as he secured the grappling hook to the marble parapet. “I’ll carry you.”
Aerith eyed the rope as he dropped it over the edge. “You sure? We could just take the stairs.”
“No time.” He held out a hand again. “C’mon.”
She furrowed her brows. No time for what? The play was still underway—they could afford to take a small detour before it ended. Cloud wasn’t looking at her, though, which meant that there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t. And, well, Aerith was nothing if not curious.
“Alright,” she said, taking his hand with a small smile. “We’ll play it your way.” And then maybe you’ll tell me what you’re so antsy about, she added mentally.
Maybe Cloud heard it anyway, because he shot her a look halfway between apologetic and sly as he pulled her a little closer. Aerith brought her hands to his shoulders as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Ready?” he asked.
Aerith hummed, and then Cloud was flipping them both over the parapet. She didn’t—wouldn’t—scream, so she swallowed her yelp and just held on tighter to him. But they weren’t falling. Cloud gripped the rope in one hand and between his legs, while also holding Aerith up like she weighed nothing at all. The line slipped through his grasp at a controlled pace as the two of them slowly descended towards the ground. The lush gardens and streams spun around them, bathed in moonlight and fireflies. In the distance, just beyond the gates, a lone launch hovered gently.
“This isn’t so bad,” whispered Aerith, leaning her head against Cloud’s shoulder.
“So you were scared,” he said.
She shrugged as best as she could in her current position. “Maybe a little. It’s a long way to the ground.”
Cloud hummed. “You’re okay. I got you.”
Aerith smiled even though he wasn’t looking at her. “I know.”
All in all, Aerith had to admit that the rope was faster than the several flights of stairs down to the gardens, and avoided any potential encounters with soldiers who’d drawn the short straw and had to guard the entrances to the palace. Once their feet were back on solid ground, Aerith set fire to the line. The flames travelled upwards until they hit the metal grappling hook, leaving only ash where the rope had once been.
“Let’s go,” said Cloud when the fire was out.
They didn’t hold hands on the way to the garden gates. Aerith missed the contact, but she knew why: even though they were as alone out in the gardens as they had been in the halls of the castle, the open air made her feel more exposed, under the scrutiny of the moon and stars. They shone a light on what they actually were—two people who should have had nothing to do with each other. But Aerith wouldn’t have had it any other way.
The gate was slightly ajar when they got to it—no doubt having been picked open by Cloud on his way in. Aerith was grateful she didn’t have to climb the three metres high metal fence. The launch was parked just outside, tied to a tree by a line of rope as it hovered a metre or so above the ground. Aerith breathed in the crisp night air as Cloud climbed aboard ahead of her. When he held out a hand again, she took it without hesitation and let him hoist her up next to him.
It was a familiar dance, a familiar touch. The first time seemed so long ago now, when Cloud had been rigid and dismissive and Aerith wary and formal. Sometimes there was a launch; other times a secret canal under the castle; once there had been a cloak to blend in with the crowd. But always the same hands, the same eyes, the same voice and the same warmth that came to take her away from her gilded cage. Even if just for a little while, even if only once every few weeks or even months.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
The breeze whipped at Aerith’s face as they took flight, but she didn’t mind it. She snuck a glance at Cloud—he was focused on the steering, but in that way of his that meant that he was actively avoiding looking at her. He was like a cat with back-turned ears: attentive but trying not to be obvious about it.
Aerith let out a giggle-shaped breath and Cloud, as if to prove her point, immediately turned towards her. “What?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just—” She motioned for the castle they were leaving behind. “—happy.”
Cloud’s expression softened. “Right,” he said. He looked ahead again to hide the smile on his face, but he wasn’t fast enough about it and Aerith caught the upturn of his lips before it disappeared from view. She smiled as well.
They didn’t speak for the remainder of the trip as they circled around Alexandria’s outer neighbourhoods. This far from the town centre, they couldn’t hear the music anymore—couldn’t hear much of anything, actually. Up in the sky, with only the wind to keep them company, it was like Aerith and Cloud were the only people in the world. But it didn’t—couldn’t—last. Soon enough, Cloud steered the launch back towards Alexandria, flying straight at Seventh Heaven. The castle stood directly behind it, and the theatre ship blocked it from view like the moon during a solar eclipse. But that also meant that it hid their little launch perfectly from anyone looking on from the castle. And, if anyone happened to glance up from the streets, they’d see nothing wrong with a launch bearing Seventh Heaven’s colours returning home.
Cloud expertly directed the launch towards Seventh Heaven’s docking bay, conveniently located on the back of the ship, and steered it cleanly through the opening—threaded the needle, as Aerith liked to refer to the manoeuvre. She waited patiently on the launch as Cloud hopped off to secure it to the dock, then took his hand again when he offered it to help her down.
As soon as her boots hit the wooden platform, she drew in a deep breath, letting the familiar smell of oak and spices fill her lungs. “I’ve missed this,” she said, smiling at Cloud. I’ve missed you.
He returned half a smile, then tugged on her hand with a bit of urgency. “C’mon.”
Aerith let herself be pulled behind him, but cocked her head to the side. “Where?”
He didn’t glance back. “You’ll see.”
Aerith had been aboard Seventh Heaven many times. She knew that the docking bay led to the armoury, which led to the storage, which led up to the crew’s quarters and so on and so forth. She knew they’d steer clear of the stage-deck while the play was still going, and she knew that the canteen would be too loud to even hear each other with the orchestra right on the other side of the wall. So, she was expecting to be taken to one of the common areas, or maybe the captain’s cabin. But Cloud swerved to the side just before the canteen and tugged Aerith behind him as he started climbing a wooden spiral staircase she’d never noticed before. It seemed to lead up some kind of turret.
“Cloud?” she asked, holding up her skirt with her free hand. “Seriously, where…?”
“Almost there,” he said. He tossed a look back over his shoulder. “You’ll like it, I promise.”
Aerith nodded. A few moments later, Cloud pushed open a trap door at the top of the stairs. Lights and music came pouring in as he helped her to her feet. Finally, he let go of her hand as she took a few steps forward.
They were at the top of one of Seventh Heaven’s turrets, to the left of the stage and slightly behind it in a way that kept the lights from hitting it. Below them, the actors—Jessie and Biggs, from the looks of it—were in the middle of a duel as the audience watched on.
Aerith sucked in a sharp breath and brought her hands to her chest.
“Best seat in the house,” said Cloud, coming up behind her.
She nodded without looking at him. “This is amazing.”
He hummed. “I’m sorry you couldn’t watch the full play. You’d have liked it.”
“It’s okay.” She shot him a smile. “You’ll just have to put it on again next time. And make sure you leave the kidnapping until the end.” Aerith rested her hands on the parapet as she watched the duel below her. Jessie won and marched over to wrench something out of Biggs’ grasp, which she then presented triumphantly to the audience.
“That’s a magic wand,” said Cloud, following Aerith’s gaze. “The princess needs it to break the spell over her kingdom.” He leaned on the parapet next to her—close, but not close enough.
“I thought she was trapped in a tower. How’d she get out?” asked Aerith.
He shrugged. “Rescued by a prince. But he’s kinda boring, if you ask me.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“Yeah. Pompous too. Would’ve been better if he was just a normal guy instead of a prince. No grand destiny or whatever.”
“Never pegged you for a theatre critic,” she mused. Below them, Jessie was delivering a monologue about freeing her people from some kind of curse.
Cloud half-laughed. “I had to see this thing a thousand times in rehearsals. You’d get opinions too.”
Aerith hummed. “I’m sure I would.”
Silence fell between them again. Biggs escaped the stage in a cloud of red smoke, and Wedge appeared at the other side of it, dressed in full royal regalia.
“Oh, right,” said Cloud. “Prince got turned into an evil frog halfway through.”
“How can a frog be evil?”
Cloud snorted. “Dunno. They just say it’s evil.”
Aerith giggled and tapped her lips for a moment. “Maybe—” She cut herself off when the orchestra suddenly got louder—way louder. “Hm?”
Cloud straightened up. “Finally,” he said under his breath. He shook his head and nudged Aerith a bit. “Look.”
She followed his nod towards the sky just in time to see the first round of fireworks go off. As the arena got painted red and gold, she gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. “Cloud…!” she breathed.
He chuckled quietly next to her, but she didn’t turn. All of her attention was on the spectacle in front of her: colours exploding in the sky, bangs sending vibrations down her spine, bright lights making the world around her clear and sharp. The crowd was just as captivated as her, cheering with every new boom and crackle and colourful shower. Without taking her eyes off of the firework display, Aerith blindly reached to the side and found Cloud’s hand. She held it tight, threading their fingers together. “This is…”
He gave a light squeeze back. “You like?”
Aerith pressed her lips together and gave a tight nod. “I—This is why you were in such a hurry.”
“Didn’t want you to miss it.” She turned to look at him, but he had his eyes fixed on the fireworks. Still paying attention to her, though. “Worth it?”
The affection and longing that had been coiled up in her chest finally burst out as Aerith let go of his hand to wrap her arms around him instead. Surprised, Cloud took a half step back before gingerly returning the hug. She took a deep breath and nodded in his chest. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He hummed, and she felt the vibrations more than she heard the sound. Still in his arms, Aerith straightened up a little. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “I—” She bit her lip and cut herself off.
Cloud furrowed his brows. “What?”
Aerith shook her head and looked away. “Nothing, just—” She wanted so much. She wanted too much. The castle loomed in front of her, a stark reminder of what she was and wasn’t allowed to want. She hated it. “Never mind. This is amazing. Thank you.” Delicately, she stepped away from the hug.
He let her, but his frown didn’t ease. “Aerith, what is it?” He brought a hand to her chin to gently turn her towards him again.
She avoided his eyes. “This is amazing,” she repeated. “But… it’s all gonna be over so soon.” She wasn’t talking about the fireworks, and the look in Cloud’s eyes told her he knew that. She attempted a coy smile, but she was sure it came out more mournful than playful. “We really must stop meeting like this. I miss you,” she whispered.
I miss you whenever you’re gone. I miss you every day you’re not here. I miss you even now because I know we’ll have to say goodbye soon.
Cloud’s frown deepened as his hand shifted from her chin to her cheek. “I… You too,” he murmured, so quiet that she almost lost it amidst the fireworks. “All the time.”
Aerith glanced at them again: they were building to a climax. The show would be over soon. So, it wasn’t really a decision when she finally closed the distance and kissed him for the first time; it was an inevitability, like gravity, or the ebb and flow of the tide. Cloud wasn’t as taken aback as she’d expected—or maybe she’d just beaten him to the punch—and he eagerly returned the kiss, bringing his other hand to her face as well. It was a simple, short kiss, but it left Aerith with tingling lips and a racing heart when they parted.
She looked up into his eyes. “I miss you,” she repeated, letting all that she was feeling bleed into her words.
Cloud pressed his lips together. “I’m right here,” he said, finding one of her hands.
Aerith let out a bitter half laugh. “I know, but…” She shook her head. “We both know how this works.”
He was quiet for a long moment as he stroked soothing circles on the back of her hand. Aerith wished they weren’t both wearing gloves. “What if…” he started, then averted his eyes. “What if it didn’t have to work like that anymore?”
Aerith blinked at him. “What?”
Cloud kept his eyes firmly on a spot just over her shoulder. “I mean… We do know how this works. You hire me to kidnap you for a few days, you escape and come back here, rinse-repeat as soon as you can get away with it. Right?”
She nodded slowly, a little shocked. Neither of them had ever said that out loud. Their little dance was built around games and coy secrets—and, yet, Cloud was pushing it all out in the open. She supposed it made sense, though. That was her dance—a princess brought up to hide her true feelings from the world. Cloud’s style was much more straightforward and blunt. She liked that about him.
His hold on her hand tightened. “We know how this works,” he repeated, steeling himself. “I—What if…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Aerith waited patiently.
Cloud looked at her again with fire in his eyes. “Come with me.”
A beat filled only by the boom of explosions.
“W-What!?” she exclaimed then.
“Come with me,” he repeated. The resolve in his eyes waned a little with every passing second. “Uh, with us. Just—” He motioned at Seventh Heaven. “—stay. Please.” He looked at her pleadingly as he squeezed her hand again.
Her head was nothing but static. She looked at him, at the arena, at the fireworks, back at him. His gaze didn’t waver even though his voice had.
Stay? Leave Alexandria—everything—behind? Aerith swallowed a knot in her throat. The castle loomed just at the edges of her field of view, imposing and severe, full of rules and expectations and forced smiles. Cold and dead. Even her parents were little more than distantly busy figures across the palace halls. Around her, on the other hand, Seventh Heaven was alive with string lights and music and freedom.
She blinked hard as she returned her gaze to Cloud, whose stony expression didn’t quite mask the anxiety underneath. And, below even that, Aerith saw hope. The same hope that flowed in her veins like liquid electricity.
Of course. Alexandria wasn’t everything. Never had been.
It was the easiest decision of her life. “Okay,” she heard herself whisper as a smile tugged at her lips.
Cloud’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Wha—You serious? For real?”
Aerith nodded shakily. “Yeah. For real.” She gave a weird giggle, as though coming out of a trance. “Thought you’d never ask.”
In a moment, Cloud swept her up into a tight hug that lifted her off the floor a little bit. She laughed as the tension inside her melted. No more missing him. No more waiting. No more wishing for freedom. She hugged him back just as fiercely.
“Thank you,” he murmured when he finally set her down, a hair away from her face. “I just—I didn’t—” He shook his head. “Thank you,” he repeated.
He looked as though he wanted to kiss her again but, before Aerith could meet him halfway, hurried footsteps came from the stairwell and they sprung apart.
Tifa’s head poked out of the trap door. She had her hair in tiny braids and had dyed the ends red since the last time Aerith had seen her. “Well?” she asked, grinning. “You ask her yet?”
Cloud, whose ears had turned a lovely shade of pink, huffed and looked away. “And if I hadn’t? Way to ruin it.”
Aerith giggled as she tried to catch his eyes. “So this was planned?”
Tifa, still only halfway out of the trap door, leaned with her elbows on the floor. “Well, it was either that or locking you two in a broom closet for a day. Cloud vetoed the broom closet, so here we are.”
“Makes sense,” said Aerith. She beamed. “Well, I hope you guys know I want a part in the next play.”
Cloud snorted. “Of course you do.” He was looking out at the arena again, but his expression was soft.
Tifa grinned again. “Nice!” she exclaimed. “I’m gonna tell the others—we’re gonna wanna be outta here fast tonight. Behave, up here!” With that, she disappeared down the trap door.
Aerith giggled as she moved closer to Cloud and leaned on the railing next to him. “I mean it, y’know. I want a part.”
Cloud hummed. “Yeah, I know you do. Whatever you want,” he said quietly.
She smiled as she glanced at the castle again. “I want a lot of things.”
He laughed—the first full laugh of the evening but not, she hoped, the last. “Whatever you want,” he repeated. “But one thing at a time, alright?”
Aerith giggled and leaned closer. “Spoiled princess, remember? Might not be so patient.”
Cloud huffed. “Coulda fooled me. Alright, you want a part. What else?”
She pretended to think for a moment, although she couldn’t keep down the smile crawling onto her face. “Well, I know it’s kind of a long shot, but I really wanna kiss you again. Too much to ask?”
Cloud drew closer with a half laugh. “Nah. Think I can swing that.”