Work Text:
By abstracted
The woods didn’t look forbidden. To Issa, they looked like an invitation. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dusty gold beams, illuminating patches of rare, pale pink flowers that covered the forest floor. She moved with a rhythmic grace, her blue tunic fluttering as she performed a silent dance to avoid stepping on a single flower.
She didn't know that miles ago, she had crossed a line marked by ancient stone pillars. She only knew the air here tasted like clover and oak.
High above, nestled in the crook of a moss-covered branch, Rome watched. He was a creature of gold and sky-blue, his winged sandals twitching with a life of their own. For eight years, his only conversations had been with the whispering wind and the mischievous voice of Hermes in his dreams. People were stories; people were the shadows that had chased him away when he was nine.
But this girl... she was careful. She respected the things he guarded. With a sudden, blur-like motion, Rome dropped. He didn't fall; he descended like a leaf caught in a gale, landing silently three feet in front of her. Issa gasped, her hand flying to her chest, her brown eyes wide with a mix of terror and wonder.
Rome leaned in, his head tilted like a curious bird. His eyes were bright, searching, and entirely too close."Are you a real girl?" he whispered, his voice raspy from disuse. Issa blinked, finding her breath. "I... yes? I’m Issa."
"And your age, Issa?" he pressed, stepping closer into her space, his winged hat tilting forward. "How many summers?" "Sixteen," she managed to squeak out.
Rome’s face transformed into a dazzling, boyish grin. Sixteen. He was seventeen. The math of the gods was simple: she was like him. And Rome, who had spent a decade reading the stars and yearning for the warmth of another person, acted on the only instinct he had for "affection."
Before Issa could process the scent of citrus and summer air he carried, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was a very clumsy, awkward kiss.
Issa froze, her brain short-circuiting. Rome pulled back, seeing the absolute shock on her face. The silence of the forest suddenly felt very loud. Realization hit him like a lightning bolt, Hermes hadn't taught him the timing of these things. His face turned a shade of red that matched the pink flowers.
"I... I have to go!" he stammered.
In a blur of golden sandals and fluttering wings, he leaped back into the canopy, disappearing into the leaves before Issa could even find her voice to say wait.
The next day…
Issa didn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt that strange, electric spark on her lips and saw the flash of golden sandals. As soon as the first light of dawn crept through her window, she was up, lacing her boots with trembling fingers. She tucked the golden feather into her bodice, right against her heart, and slipped out of the village before the baker had even lit his ovens.
The "forbidden" woods felt different today. They didn't feel like a threat, they felt like a secret.
When she reached the spot with the pink flowers, she stopped. She had expected him to be waiting, perhaps sitting on a branch with that lopsided, mischievous grin. But the clearing was silent. "Hello?" she whispered. Then, louder, "Hello? I know you’re here!"
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of a distant woodpecker. Issa felt a pang of rejection. Maybe she had imagined him. Maybe he was a spirit that only appeared once in a lifetime.
She sat down on a mossy log, sighing heavily. "I'm not mad," she said to the empty air, looking up at the canopy. "About the... the thing you did. I just wanted to talk to you. Suddenly, a gust of wind whirled through the clearing, though the trees nearby didn't move. A heavy, ripe pear, sweeter and more fragrant than anything grown in the village, thumped softly into her lap.
Issa looked up. A pair of winged sandals was dangling from a branch twenty feet above, kicking back and forth nervously. Rome was hiding behind a trunk, only his curly hair and one ear visible. "It's not poisoned," a muffled voice called out from behind the tree. "Hermes says they're the best in the orchard. I... I brought it for you. As an apology. For being... fast."
Issa giggled, the sound bright and clear in the morning air. "It's a very nice pear. Are you going to come down and share it, or are you going to hide up there all day?"
There was a frantic rustling, a golden blur, and then, thud. Rome landed in front of her, looking incredibly awkward, his face flushed a deep crimson. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, but he sat down on the edge of the log, leaving a respectful three feet of space between them. "I've never had a 'friend' before," Rome admitted, picking at a loose thread on his tunic. "Is this how it starts, Issa? With fruit?"
Issa smiled softly, the wind blowing her hair gently across her face. “Not quite,” Rome’s feet shuffled nervously when he felt Issa’s gaze on him. “Maybe you could tell me your name first?” She asked. “Oh yeah…sorry. My name is Rome but you can call me… Rome…?” Issa chuckled when he said that and Rome got flustered all over again.
Issa took a small, careful bite of the pear. The sweetness was unlike anything she’d ever tasted, it felt like a burst of pure sunlight. She looked over at Rome, who was still fidgeting with the hem of his tunic, his winged sandals fluttering just an inch off the ground as if they were ready to bolt again.
"It’s delicious," she said softly, offering him a small smile to settle his nerves. "Thank you, Rome." He relaxed just a fraction, his golden brown curls bouncing as he gave a quick, jerky nod. "So," Issa began, her curiosity finally winning out over her shyness. "You mentioned... Hermes? The stories say he’s a god of messengers and thieves. Is he really the one who guides you?"
Rome’s eyes lit up, his awkwardness replaced by a sudden, boyish excitement. "He’s more than just stories! He’s the wind in the trees and the shadow that moves when nothing else does. When the village sent me away... when I was just nine... I was so small and the woods were so loud. I cried until my throat was raw."
He pointed to his sandals, where the little white wings were currently preening themselves like birds.
"He found me. He didn't speak with a voice, but he put thoughts in my head. He showed me which berries were sweet and which would put me to sleep forever. He gave me these," he gestured to his feet, "so I’d never be trapped by a hunter or a cliffside. He says I’m his 'scout.'" Issa looked at him with a mix of pity and awe. "Nine years old... you’ve been all alone since then?"
"I have the forest," Rome said simply, though there was a flicker of loneliness in his eyes. "And I have his tasks. He sends me to find things, shiny stones, rare feathers, or to watch the way the clouds move. But..." He looked at her, his gaze dropping to the blue fabric of her dress. "He never told me what to do if I found a girl who doesn't step on the flowers."
He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Does everyone in the village have skin as soft as yours?” “Well,” Issa started, “I’m sure there are other people with soft skin. I mean… your skin is relatively soft too.”
Rome laughed at Issa’s comment, he was enjoying his time with her greatly.
Issa finished her piece of the pear and wiped her hands on her apron. "Rome," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "you can't just go around kissing people the second you meet them. In the village, there are... steps." Rome tilted his head, his winged sandals fluttering nervously. "Steps? Like a ladder? Hermes just says to take what you want before the wind changes."
"No," Issa giggled, standing up. "Social steps. First, you say hello, which you did. Then, you talk. You find out if the other person likes you. And then, maybe after a long time, if you both want to... then you kiss. It’s about asking."
Rome looked genuinely confused. "Asking? But my heart was loud. I thought if I didn't do it right then, you'd vanish like a dryad." "I'm not going to vanish," she promised. She held out her hand, palm up, not touching him yet. "Let's practice. Imagine we just met. Walk over to me, say my name, and tell me something you like, that isn't my face."
Rome took a deep breath. He zipped twenty feet into the air, did a somersault, and landed back down with a flourish, his blue cape swirling.
"Hello, Issa!" he shouted, a bit too loudly. "I like... that you don't crush the pink flowers! And I like that you smell like rain and bread!" Issa bit her lip to keep from laughing at his intensity. "That’s much better. Now, instead of jumping at me, you ask: 'Issa, may I sit with you?'"
Rome repeated the words, his voice softening. He sat down on the log, leaving a very deliberate, exaggerated gap between them. He looked at her hand, then back at his own lap. "May I... may I hold your hand, Issa? Or is that a 'Step Ten' thing?"
Issa felt her face heat up, but she didn't pull away. "That," she whispered, "is a very good Step Two." Slowly, Rome reached out. His skin was warm, and he held her hand like it was made of glass, his eyes wide with the realization that sometimes, moving slowly was even more exciting than flying.
"Here," she said, pressing a ribbon from her hair into his palm. "This is from my world. So you know I'm real, and so you know I'm coming back tomorrow." Rome stared at the ribbon as if it were a holy relic. He didn't just tuck it away, he tied it carefully around his wrist, right above his golden bracer. The blue of the silk looked striking against his sun-kissed skin.
"Step Three," he whispered, a brilliant, genuine smile breaking across his face. "Keeping a piece of the person you like. I think I'm getting the hang of this, Issa."
With a final wave, Issa hurried toward the edge of the woods, feeling lighter than she ever had. Behind her, she heard the soft flutter of wings as Rome leaped back into the safety of the trees, guarding his new treasure.
On their third day meeting, the sun was particularly hot. Rome wore many heavy golden bracers on his forearms. Issa noticed they weren't just jewelry, they were etched with scenes of a traveler walking across the stars.
"My mother told me these were left in my cradle," Rome said, tracing the gold with a shaky finger. "The village elders said they were cursed, that they were the reason I could run faster than a deer and hear the whispers of the clouds. They called me a 'monster's child.'"
Issa reached out, her fingers brushing the cool metal. As soon as she touched the gold, it hummed. Not a scary sound, but a deep, resonant note like those big temple bells.
"They weren't afraid of a curse, Rome," Issa whispered, looking up into his amber eyes, which seemed to glow with an inner fire. "They were afraid of the truth. You aren't just a boy blessed by a god. You have his blood in your veins."
Rome looked down at his winged sandals, then back at the girl who wasn't afraid to touch him. For the first time, he didn't look like a lonely exile. He looked like a prince of the wind. "If that’s true," he murmured, "then maybe I wasn't banished. Maybe I was just waiting for someone brave enough to find me."
" And If I really am his son," Rome said, his voice gaining a new kind of confidence, "then the ground shouldn't be the only place we walk. Do you trust me? This is... the next step, I think? The 'Trust' Step?"
Issa laughed, setting aside her basket. "I think trust is a very big step, Rome. But yes, I trust you." He didn't just grab her. He reached out and took her hands, his winged sandals starting to beat with a frantic, joyful buzz. "Keep your feet tucked," he whispered.
With a sudden whoosh of air that smelled like wildflowers, they weren't on the grass anymore. Rome didn't just jump, he pulled the air around them like a staircase. They rose above the pink flowers, past the hanging oak branches, and higher than the birds’ nests.
Issa gasped, her stomach doing flips, but Rome held her steady. They stopped just above the canopy, where the forest looked like a sea of endless green. "Look," Rome pointed toward the horizon.
From up here, Issa could see her village, it looked like a tiny toy set made of grey stone and straw. But more importantly, she could see the edge of the world, where the ocean met the sky in a line of sparkling silver.
"I used to come up here alone to watch the ships," Rome said, looking not at the view, but at Issa’s amazed expression. "I always wondered if there was someone out there somewhere looking back at the woods. I didn't know she was just a mile away the whole time."
He leaned his forehead against hers, the wind whistling softly around them. For a demigod who could fly, he seemed perfectly happy just standing still in the sky with her.
The wind had settled into a gentle hum as Rome lowered them back down, not to the forest floor, but to a massive, flat branch of an ancient cedar tree. It was high enough to feel like a secret, but wide enough for Issa to sit comfortably.
Issa reached into the satchel she’d brought from home and pulled out a small, leather bound book. The edges were worn, and it smelled of old paper and dried lavender.
"You said you left the village when you were nine," Issa said softly, scooting closer so their shoulders touched. "Do you remember how to read? Or did the wind blow those memories away?"
Rome looked at the pages with a mixture of longing and hesitation. He traced a letter with his thumb, the golden bracer on his wrist catching the dim light. "I remember the shapes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "But they don't stay still for me. They're like birds. They want to fly off the page."
Issa smiled and opened the book to a page of poetry. "Then let's make them stay still. Here, this word is L-I-G-H-T. Light."
Rome squinted at the ink. He concentrated so hard that the little wings on his sandals gave a tiny, sympathetic flutter. "Light," he repeated. He looked up at the sun-dappled leaves above them. "It's a small word for something so big."
For the next hour, the only sounds were the rustle of the leaves and Issa’s gentle voice guiding him through the sentences. Rome was a fast learner, his mind worked at the same lightning speed as his feet, and soon he was reading short lines on his own.
Suddenly, Rome had an idea. He reached out and touched a line of text: 'The stars are the lanterns of the lonely.'
"Wait," he said, his amber eyes sparking. "Watch this."
He held his hand over the book. A faint, golden glow radiated from his palm, the same energy that powered his flight. Slowly, the ink on the page began to shimmer. The letters didn't just stay still, they rose off the paper, glowing like tiny, captured fireflies. They floated in the air between him and Issa, forming the sentence in mid-air so it was easy to see in the darkening woods.
"Now we don't need the sun to read," Rome grinned, looking incredibly proud of himself. "Step... uh... Sharing a secret power?" Issa laughed, reaching out to poke a floating 'S' made of light. It felt warm, like a sunbeam. "I think sharing a secret is the best step of all, Rome."
The glowing letters continued to drift around them like tiny, golden embers, casting a soft warmth over the branch. The air up here was thinner and cooler, smelling of cedar resin and the distant, salty scent of the sea.
"Rome?" Issa murmured, her voice trailing off.
"Yeah?" He was busy trying to poke a floating 'M' to make it spin.
"Can we just... stay here a minute? I'm so tired."
Rome froze. He looked at her, seeing the way her head was nodding. Without a word, he shifted, tucking his blue cape behind her like a cushion and guiding her head down until it rested against his shoulder. His skin was warm, almost unnaturally so, like he was radiating the heat of the sun he flew so close to.
"Hermes says the stars never sleep," Rome whispered, his own eyes softening as he looked down at her. "But I think he’s wrong. I think they just wait for the right person to close their eyes first."
Issa didn't hear the rest. With the rhythmic thump-thump of a demigod’s heart in her ear and the gentle flutter of winged sandals nearby, she drifted off. For the first time in his life, Rome didn't feel like he had to run anywhere. He just sat there, guarding her sleep, while the glowing words of their secret story slowly faded back into the paper of the book.
later…
The glowing letters had almost entirely faded, leaving only a faint, honey-colored shimmer in the air. Issa stirred against Rome’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering open to see the first few stars peeking through the canopy.
"I have to go," she whispered, though she didn't move yet. "The village will be lighting the lanterns soon." Rome looked down at her. He wasn't the frantic boy who had dropped from the trees earlier. He looked steady, grounded by her presence even while his sandals hummed with the desire to fly.
"Wait," he said softly. He reached out and gently touched the blue ribbon she had given him, now tied securely around his wrist. "I think... I think I'm ready for the last step. But only if you want to." Issa sat up, her heart doing that familiar little dance. She didn't look shocked this time; she looked expectant. "I think you've done the work, Rome. You asked."
This time, there was no blur of speed. Rome leaned in slowly, giving her every second to change her mind. When his lips finally met hers, it wasn't a "lightning strike" or a "crash." It was soft, lingering, and tasted faintly of the celestial pear they had shared. It felt like the home Issa had just returned from, and the adventure Rome had been waiting his whole life to start.
When they pulled apart, Rome’s golden bracers gave off a soft, contented pulse of light. "I like this step," he breathed, a dorky, triumphant grin spreading across his face.
"Me too," Issa laughed, gathering her book. "Now, get me down from this tree before my mother starts a search party!"
The end.