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It’d been nearly twelve hours since Kris had walked into their Castle Town bedroom, locked the door, and hadn’t emerged. Ralsei knew because she’d been keeping careful track of the passing time. She knew, too, compared to most darkners—for whom things like eating were optional indulgences—lightners could only survive several days without food, and even less without water. If this went on, Kris would waste away before Ralsei’s eyes.
She wouldn’t let that happen.
Ralsei lightly rapped her knuckles against the blue-painted wood of Kris’ bedroom door. “Kris?” she called. “Kris, I know you’re still in there…”
No response.
Ralsei swallowed back her reservations. She knew if Susie was here, she wouldn’t hesitate at all to break down the door and drag Kris out of their room. Ralsei—she couldn’t do the same things Susie could, but she could do it her own way. She had to try.
“Kris…you have to come out of there at some point,” Ralsei called. “At the very least, you have to eat.” Dark world food couldn’t fill a lightner’s stomach, but if Ralsei packed it with enough magical energy to fool Kris’ for long enough to get them up and moving again…
Still no response.
Third time’s the charm, Ralsei! “I—I miss having you around, Kris…” It was hard to spit out the words, but for Kris’ sake, Ralsei did her best, even as her throat threatened to close up on her. “It’s not the same without you here, you know?”
Nothing.
Ralsei waited outside the door. Three minutes. Five. Ten. She heard not even a breath, much less the distinctive sound of human feet on carpet or stone.
…It was time for her to play her last resort, then.
“Kris—I’m coming in,” Ralsei called. Then, to herself, she murmured a spell, hovering her hand over the lock of Kris’ bedroom door. Her fingers glowed green; metal contraptions clicked. The door silently cracked open.
Ralsei hefted the teaset she’d left on the floor against her hip and crept inside, gently shutting the door behind her with her free hand. The room was dark, darker than the rest of Castle Town; in absence of proper lighting, it was illuminated only by the faint glow of the stick-on stars.
“Kris?” Ralsei whisper-called.
Silence.
Ralsei approached the bed, tiptoeing around the armor and clothes tossed carelessly across the carpet, and she quietly set the teaset down on Kris’ nightstand. A small tuft of navy blue hair stuck out from underneath their bed’s duvet, pulled up high to block out the rest of the world. Ralsei wondered if Kris had even moved in hours; there were no rumples or creases in the sheets indicating such. Only the subtle rise and fall of their lump-shaped form told Ralsei they were still alive.
“Kris…” Gingerly, Ralsei rested her hand over the duvet where Kris’ shoulder seemed to be, and she shook them minutely. “You don’t have to get out of bed, but…please, could you at least sit up and have some tea?”
No verbal response. Kris subtly curled in on themself a little more.
Ralsei removed her hand. She stepped away to pull out a chair from Kris’ table and drag it over beside the bed; then she sat down, smoothing out the skirt of her dress before neatly folding her hands in her lap. “I won’t leave until you answer me, Kris,” Ralsei murmured, still soft. Not pushing; simply informing.
Minutes ticked by. Finally, Kris spoke. “Just let me die,” they croaked, voice rusted over from disuse and muffled by the duvet. “Please, Ralsei.”
Ralsei smiled on reflex, even though Kris couldn’t see her face. “I’m sorry, Kris. I can’t do that.”
Kris didn’t speak again.
Ralsei laid her hand on them, this time atop what seemed to be their upper arm. Slowly, she stroked down until she found their elbow—bone prominent even through the thick, soft duvet—and then she traced her way back up. “I’m being selfish. I know that,” Ralsei murmured. “But even so, Kris…could you humor me like you always do?”
The silence stretched. Blue fingertips, with uneven strips of matte black paint wearing from the nails, pulled down the edge of the duvet enough for a sliver of red to peek out from the shadows, confirming Ralsei was still there. After a moment, Kris retreated behind their shield. “…Do what you want.”
Ralsei’s heart leaped, but at the same time, she worried her lower lip with a fang. At last, she swallowed down her nerves and moved her hand to grip the end of the duvet. “Then, I’m going to take this off, okay?”
Kris said nothing.
Ralsei slowly and carefully pulled the duvet down. Kris faced the wall, eyes shut, and didn’t react, let alone move. Still, they didn’t protest or resist when Ralsei stood up from her chair to nudge them onto their back, then hook her hands under their armpits to guide them into a lax sitting position against the headboard. Ralsei made sure to adjust the pillows beneath them for their comfort, and then straighten the duvet over their chest, keeping them warm while preserving their modesty.
The tea had gone cold after all this time. Regardless, Ralsei poured a cup before taking it in both hands and murmuring a new spell. The heat in her hands intensified, distorting the air around them. She waited until the water was faintly wisping steam, then set the cup in a saucer and offered it to Kris.
“I made you some of your father’s golden flower tea,” Ralsei told them. “I’ve been practicing in my spare time…” Wondering what Flowery would think of her if he was here, if he’d have any tips on the best ways to steep his leaves. If he’d have any insight she didn’t into what Kris themself preferred. “I still don’t think think I’m as good at it as you are, Kris, but I hope I’m getting there.”
Kris cracked their eyes open and stared listlessly at the tea. Eventually, they removed an arm from underneath the duvet to accept the cup and saucer one-handed with stiff, mechanical movements. There was a slight tremor in their hand, enough to shake the cup and spill a few drops of liquid over the sides of the rim.
Ralsei didn’t comment. She politely turned her attention away from Kris, though she kept watch on them in her periphery, as she poured and heated a cup for herself.
Kris stared down into their teacup silently, like they were reading something in the water. Another eternity seemed to pass before they finally hooked a finger through the handle and lifted it to sip. A few more drops dribbled down their chin and spotted onto the duvet, but Kris didn’t acknowledge them. Ralsei was tempted to pull out a handkerchief and wipe their face off for them, but she patiently stayed her hand. She couldn’t be too pushy or forceful. Kris would only withdraw into their shell if she did.
Instead, Ralsei lifted a plate of shortbread cookies from the teaset tray, holding them out for Kris. “I brought some biscuits, too. They’re still mostly fresh. Would you like one?”
Kris freed their other arm to reach out and take one, dipping it into the tea to soften it up before taking a bite. Ralsei smiled amid helping herself to a biscuit of her own.
They both ate and drank in silence, with no background music except for the crunching of the cookies between their teeth. Only when Kris drained their cup and held it out for Ralsei to take back did she speak again. “How do you feel now, Kris?”
Kris stared down at the duvet between their bare, scarred arms. Well, they didn’t exactly stare at it; more like that was where their dull gaze came to rest. “Dunno,” they said at last. Their voice was the tiniest bit less hoarse, after the tea had washed out the dryness from their throat.
Ralsei tidied the dishes away on the tray and then patted the back of Kris’ right hand. “That’s alright, Kris,” she reassured them. “You don’t need to feel better right away.”
Kris didn’t visibly acknowledge her words. They only stared at Ralsei’s hand without trying to pull theirs out from underneath.
Ralsei took Kris’ hand in her own, stroking her thumb over their prominent, knobbly knuckles. Though they were bony, they didn’t have as rough or callused knuckles as Susie did, tough dragon hide aside. Only distinct little abrasions from Kris’ incisor teeth, betraying habitual purging.
“It’s been a few days since you last washed yourself, right?” Ralsei asked. “If you want, I could give you a bath, too. You don’t have to use the tub if you don’t want to, though.” She’d be fine with wiping them down using a wet cloth. She’d brush their hair as well; repaint their nails, maybe even exfoliate their feet…
Kris idly tapped the fingers of their free hand to a beat Ralsei didn’t recognize. “Later,” they mumbled.
“Later, then,” Ralsei echoed with a nod.
Kris licked crumbs off their lips with a swipe of their purplish tongue. “…Can I have another biscuit?” they asked, still at a murmur.
Ralsei set the plate of shortbread cookies in their lap. “Have as many as you like.”
Kris picked up another biscuit, but this one they silently handed to Ralsei, expression neutral yet subtly familiar. Quietly insistent. Only if you do, too. Ralsei, heart panging, accepted the offered cookie without protest.
“Still, they’re a bit dry to have on their own,” she noted. “Do you want more tea with that?”
Kris dipped their head in a small nod.
Ralsei poured them both another cup each, careful to take the one with a gloss-smeared rim for herself rather than hand it to Kris. Kris drunk with more liveliness, gulping at the cooler tea rather than meekly sipping from it. They demolished another biscuit, then another. Slowly, the light returned to their dull eyes; the revitalizing spells Ralsei had snuck into the tea and cookies were gradually taking effect. She felt a little guilty for having to employ that sort of underhanded tactic, but…as long as Kris was willing to accept her selfishness, maybe that was fine.
“Why bother?” Kris suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence that’d settled in between drinking and eating.
Ralsei’s head snapped up. Kris avoided her gaze by staring into their half-full cup instead. “With…what?” Ralsei asked carefully.
Kris’ brows creased a little. They turned their head away, back to the wall. “Is it because of the prophecy? No—it is, isn’t it? You wouldn’t care about someone like me otherwise…”
Their words pricked at Ralsei’s heart like needles. That’s not true, Kris! she wanted to exclaim, but she bit down on her lip to stifle that reflex. Instead, Ralsei lowered her own cup to the saucer in her lap as she mulled over an answer. Something Kris wouldn’t reject out of hand.
“Well…I mean, it’s true that without the prophecy, we might not have met, let alone gotten to know each other,” she began. Ralsei didn’t even know if she’d exist in the event the prophecy didn’t. She’d been created to carry it out, hadn’t she?
Kris side-eyed her, as if silently asking, So you admit it, then?
Ralsei fought the urge to duck her head or bristle under their cutting glare. “But, you know, Kris…the prophecy isn’t the be-all and end-all of what we do. And, to be honest, I—I don’t particularly care for what it says about us.” It was scary, but freeing to say out loud. Because it was true. Ralsei hated the prophecy that assigned her to be a prince, that fashioned Kris into an empty cage, and doomed them both to a tragic ending.
She placed her hand over Kris’ for the second time, meeting their gaze head-on. “I care about you because I want to, Kris,” Ralsei told them, gentle but solemn. “Nothing more, nothing less.” She was confident of that above all else. She truly loved Kris—and Susie, too—with her whole heart, as manufactured as origin of that love might be.
Kris was silent: head bowed to hide their eyes, shoulders curled in, a tooth dug into their chapped lower lip. Teacup and saucer held tight enough in their free hand, their skin was paling where the dainty china pressed into it; enough their tremor didn’t rattle the cup within the saucer. Eventually, with an almost defeated sigh, they slumped again, releasing the tension in their body as they exhaled.
“…If it’s what you want,” Kris mumbled, “I guess I can’t argue.”
Ralsei smiled, glowing a little with pride. At the same time, she could easily imagine a hand clapping her firmly on her shoulder—whether a huge, scaly one with clawed fingers, or a slender one in flawless, pale yellow skin—and a voice telling her, Good work, princess.
Still, Ralsei knew mere words wouldn’t be enough. Not for Kris. Kris, whose scarred and delicate heart needed more than syrup-sweet reassurances. They needed hard, concrete proof. Something they could touch without it crumbling under the contact. So, Ralsei set down her cup and saucer, reaching over to brush her fingers under Kris’ chin and tip their face back towards her. Through the gaps in their fringe, their eyes widened, then softened in recognition.
Ralsei leaned in slowly, giving Kris ample time to signal her to stop if they wanted, but they didn’t. They let her gently press her lips against theirs without complaint nor protest. Their eyes slid shut, long lashes tickling Ralsei’s cheeks. Soft breaths wetting her upper lip. Kris tasted, predictably, like the tea and shortbread, overriding the usual faint mix of butterscotch and cinnamon.
She kept the kiss brief and chaste. Ralsei pulled away shortly after, clasping Kris’ free hand in both of her own and squeezing it lightly. “I’m here for you, Kris—whatever happens.” She’d repeat it as many times as she had to, until Kris felt confident enough to let themself believe her.
Kris didn’t smile. They looked melancholy, despite the red dusting their freckled cheeks; but rather than argue, they only nodded. It was hard to say if they were yielding simply from fatigue or something else, yet Ralsei didn’t pry. She only suggested they finish their tea before it cooled.
Eventually, both their cups were drained again, and half the plate of biscuits devoured. Ralsei opened her mouth to offer Kris the last of the tea, but she was happily interrupted by Kris pinching her robe sleeve and murmuring, “So, about that bath…”