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Music class was always Tamarin’s favourite class. It was a period of time where she could simply live in another world, weaving melodies and harmonies together to create landscapes with well-placed notes.
Jade Mountain Academy had flourished and thrived after what Starflight, the librarian, called “a consecutive series of unfortunate events”, and what Tsunami called “two more moons-damned prophecies and their associated shenanigans”. They had expanded deeper into the mountain (with Starflight’s helpful advice on where there should be supports), allowing for the possibility of each dragonet to have their own sleeping cave, something that Winter, Icicle and Anemone had demanded during the academy’s early days. But now Icicle was disgraced, Winter went away to Sanctuary to study scavengers (scavengers, of all things!) and Anemone…
Well, Tamarin was quite pleased when Anemone decided to join her sleeping cave. Pleased enough that Sunny had called her a “second Kinkajou”. She could still feel the pinks and yellows mixing in mesmerising patterns on her scales. The new, expanded layout of the academy was a little disorientating at first, but eventually Tamarin got used to it, with Anemone’s talons on her shoulders gently guiding her away from any approaching walls.
Every time the SeaWing princess touched her, she could feel pleasurable tingles running down her spine. And when she wasn’t touching her, she felt an ache, a pull, as if Tamarin was a planet falling towards her Anemone star.
“Well,” Sunny said cheerfully to the Silver and Gold Winglets, “Same as usual. Pick an instrument, any instrument, play some music! Just don’t set anything on fire—” she paused, which Tamarin assumed was her shooting a stern glare at Nimbus, one of the SkyWings in her winglet, “—and we’ll all have fun!”
“Thanks, Sunny,” Qibli replied, equally as cheerful. He had stayed to help with Jade Mountain Academy after the events of Queen Wasp and the Othermind, along with his partner, Moonwatcher. “I’ll be teaching any percussion instruments you pick. I’ll be in Room B with hopefully a positive number of dragonets. Alright, then. Run wild!”
This was another renovation made to the Academy— extra, soundproof rooms for anybody who wanted to play but didn’t want anybody else to hear. Tamarin, as always, stayed in the main room and started making her way over to her favourite instrument, the harp. She was eternally grateful the music cave was always clean and free of debris that could trip her.
“Hey, Tamarin. I got you,” a soft voice called from her right. Anemone. She ascended the stage, and the harp was gently lowered to sit in front of her. Tamarin couldn’t resist “accidentally” brushing Anemone’s talon with hers as she tucked in her wings and adjusted her talons in the correct position.
She began with a simple triad of notes that started most of her compositions. Then another note, and another, feeling the vibrations hum through her claws, hearing each clear, melodious note with every pluck. She could sense herself settling once again into a flow state, where the harp was almost playing itself.
With every string, her song grew, building mountains, constructing trees, planting flowers in her mindscape. Tamarin felt a small thrill at the thought of Anemone watching her play, watching her sing with her talons.
And then suddenly, her mindscape changed. A familiar SeaWing was in the valleys between the mountains, and now she was the one tending to the flowers, delicately running her talons down the smooth bark of a tree…
Anemone turned, saw Tamarin, grinned, and dove into a pool, a “catch me if you can!” gleam in her eyes. Tamarin internally smiled, and quickened her tempo, playing the notes in rapid succession. For a long time, it was just Tamarin and Anemone, Anemone and Tamarin, weaving through the trees, diving through the sky, skimming over the lakes of glistening sapphire blue.
But all good things had to come to an end, and so Tamarin soon found herself approaching the end of her piece.
In an effort to lengthen her bliss, Tamarin slowed down the pace, each note resonating longer than the last.
And then, with Anemone firmly in her mind, she tenderly swept her talon across the strings, ending with a long, fading glissando.
She plucked the last string, a high C.
Silence.
Then deafening applause, whoops and cheers, whistles and hollers.
She could tell each voice apart: Qibli, Sunny, Kinkajou, Ostrich...
But she didn’t care about how many claps or smiles she got, because right now, the only thing that mattered was a pair of familiar wings wrapping her tight.
* * *
Anemone lay in the hammock, pondering. The music class that day had been especially… something.
Tamarin, reverently stroking the frame of the harp. Tamarin, with her talons flying across the strings. Tamarin, beaming as she ended with a final, mellifluous note.
After both of the dragonets who shared Anemone’s sleeping cave left, she was suddenly unaccustomed to the absence of sleeping bodies beside her. Fortunately, Tamarin had been in an identical situation, and they had… moved in together, per se? It wasn’t hard for the RainWing to fashion a single, larger, hammock that could conveniently fit two medium-sized dragons, and so, obviously, she had chosen to join Tamarin.
Her mind flicked back once again: Tamarin, her iridescent scales creating a work of art rivalling her music. Tamarin—
Right in front of her.
“Hey, Anemone,” Tamarin said cautiously, wringing her talons together.
Anemone frowned. Why was Tamarin so nervous? “Come on, snuggle up,” she invited.
Tamarin tentatively climbed inside, the hammock sinking slightly deeper as a result of their combined weight.
Anemone didn’t even realise she was cold until Tamarin’s warmth reached her.
She recalled how Tamarin’s performance had really moved her: Anemone, a princess who had never had to work hard for anything in her life, watching her RainWing crush be quietly, effortlessly brilliant at something entirely her own: separate from the royalty and magic she was familiar with. She remembered gently placing her talon on the harp frame to try and feel what Tamarin was feeling, just to turn scarlet when she realised what she’d done.
Fortunately, Tamarin didn’t seem to notice.
Anemone settled herself and let out a breath, snuggling deeper into Tamarin’s warmth. They lay there for several heartbeats, just them, alone, in a gently swinging hammock.
And her thoughts wandered. From music, to waves, from waves, to the sea, from the sea—
Anemone sat almost bolt upright. “Turtle!”
Tamarin stirred, yawning. “What?”
“Turtle, Turtle…” Anemone wrung her talons together. “I just realised I haven’t even apologised to him yet!”
“Apologise for what?” Tamarin asked.
“TRYING TO KILL HIM!” Anemone yelled, before catching herself. “I…” Now she had done it. She had yelled at Tamarin, and now Tamarin was going to hate her and she was going to be left all alone just like—
Tamarin put a talon on her shoulder. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay! I’m not okay! I’ve been such a horrible sister!” Anemone was crying now. “And all Auklet knows about me is that I’m a stuck up, snooty—”
“You’re not!” Tamarin argued. “You’re wonderful!”
Anemone froze. “I’m what?” she said in a small voice.
“You’re wonderful,” Tamarin replied firmly. “You’re generous with your treasure, you’re considerate of me and you never leave me behind…” she trailed off. “You, Anemone, are an amazing dragon.”
“But sometimes I don’t feel like it’s enough,” Anemone murmured. “Whenever I’m out with Mother, whenever I am seen around the palace, I can tell they expect a prim, proper princess. Then they’re disappointed when they find me instead.”
"Anyone who would feel disappointed to find you is too dense to be of any relevance," Tamarin said. "I don't want you to be like them, Nem. They're not honest. They don't care. I like you as you are."
Something warm fluttered in Anemone's chest.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Sleep on it. We’ll fight it together in the morning,” Tamarin promised. “Just remember, I’m always here for you.”
Anemone hugged her tight. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
“Well,” Tamarin beamed, “You’ve got one.”
* * *
The first thing that Anemone saw was darkness.
The next thing she saw was Turtle, lying on the beach. He was getting up, obviously winded, until he caught sight of her and snarled.
“You ruined this,” he said. “You ruined everything.”
Faint laughter. Her vision blinked on and off, on and off…
Lightning flashed, revealing a silhouette of her mother cradling Auklet in her wings.
“You ruined it all,” her mother’s voice said. “You don’t deserve to live.”
“You don’t deserve anything,” Auklet hissed. “You don’t deserve her.”
The ground opened up beneath her, and suddenly she was falling down a bottomless hole. The three SeaWings stared down at her from above, cackling.
Tamarin’s head appeared right in front of her eyes. Anemone grasped desperately for her, but Tamarin merely smiled, her scales a swimming sea of black. “Why do you try? When you know it will all fail?”
Tamarin’s breath was… cold.
* * *
Tamarin stared at the rock ceiling above her, still trying to be as close to Anemone as possible. Slowly, the SeaWing’s breaths evened out, and Tamarin knew she was asleep.
Tamarin wondered whether Anemone…
Whether she…
Tamarin shook her head, clearing it. Anemone would love whoever she loved, and Tamarin definitely couldn’t change that. Besides, what would Queen Coral say about her prospective heir having a blind female RainWing as a partner?
The more Tamarin pondered, the deeper her despair grew. Her heart beat heavy yet quick, until she was almost hyperventilating with anxiety.
No. Calm down, Tamarin. It’ll… be okay.
As her breaths slowed down, she noticed that the fast breathing rhythm came not only from her, but also from—
From Anemone.
And she was shivering. Whimpering.
“Anemone!” Tamarin whispered, gently shaking her.
As soft, desperate sounds escaped Anemone, Tamarin was suddenly struck by a current of worry.
And impulsively kissed Anemone on the forehead. Gently, but impulsively.
Anemone came to with a muffled scream, breaths slowing to a normal pace.
“No…” she murmured.
“It’s me, it’s me,” Tamarin whispered. “You’re awake.”
“Tamarin?” Anemone mumbled. “Tami?”
Tamarin gave a start at ‘Tami’, but quickly composed herself, suppressing her joy. “Yes, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”
She gently stroked Anemone’s head, a warmth spreading from her heart outward.
“Okie.” Anemone murmured sleepily. “Sleep. Love you.”
Tamarin sucked in a breath, talons curling almost painfully.
Love you?
“I love you too, Nem,” she blurted.
Tamarin turned away, hiding her burning face from a thankfully sleeping Anemone. The nickname had slipped out again!
Tamarin pressed a talon to her snout, mortified.
And then she was asleep.
* * *
Anemone awoke, rubbing her eyes with her talons and stretching like a cat. “Good morning, Tamarin,” she greeted the waking RainWing.
“Just let me sleep a little longer,” Tamarin pleaded. “Just let me enjoy…”
Enjoy what? Sleep? The hammock?
…me?
Anemone sighed. “Alright. I can tell you all about the best dream I had last night, then.”
“Oh?”
“Well at first there was a nightmare, but then…” she blushed, shifting her weight. “Uhm…”
“I love you too, Nem,” Tamarin had said from her dream.
Anemone shook herself, clearing her stomach of the butterflies.
“Hypothetically if…”
“If?” Tamarin probed.
“Hypothetically, if I loved someone, and she was my best friend should I tell her?”
Tamarin turned her head towards Anemone, a hint of a smile on her face. “Of course.”
“But what if she hated me afterwards?” Anemone asked, fidgeting.
Tamarin smiled knowingly. “She would never. A cutie like you could never be denied.”
They laughed together, but deep underneath, Anemone was still dreading the rejection.
“But seriously, do you think I should?” Anemone asked quietly.
“Absolutely. After all, you only live once.” Tamarin whispered. “What are you going to do with your one wild and precious life?”
Could it be? Anemone silently wondered. Surely...
Tamarin leaned in.
Anemone’s heart stopped.
“Well, come on,” Tamarin teased, a tentative smile forming on her lips.
Now or never, Anemone.
But before she could make a decision, Tamarin’s wings reached out and wrapped them together.
Tight.
Anemone’s heart leaped.
And then—
Bliss.