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Something about fires; that's all she can really seem to remember.
Brilliant flames colored in the finest reds and oranges and yellows, maybe even white if it was hot enough, yet all of it was dangerous.
Hot and dangerous, a fire could easily burn the log they were sitting on, flames hungrily lapping up the wood.
The bark scratches and imprints the back of her legs as they sit together, facing the vast lake in the middle of the forest. The clear reflections of the tall surrounding trees and the almost dark sky's colors display themselves across the water's surface in an almost eerily mirror like way. Though the sun has already sunk behind the line of trees, its long rays still touch the sky in endless stretches, keeping up the dazzling gradient of dull oranges to dark blues and indigos.
She sits stiffly on the log beside him and it's incredibly hot on this early summer night, something that should be expected, but she knows it is really just her. She stares straight ahead at the lake, its clear and smooth surface with not a ripple in sight, and she thinks about just how cool the temperature must be compared to the heat of the air that surrounds her.
In a startling contrast, he shifts comfortably next to her as though he has no care in the world of what anyone might think of him. He's carefree and happy and very optimistic, qualities she deeply admires about him. He's slouched over, his arms across his knees and one hand cradling his chin in an almost thoughtful way, though she knows better; he was most likely not thinking of anything too important in particular, if anything at all. That was just the way he was.
A boy who did not really care about much, a boy who could be oblivious at times, a boy who did not even know he was the crown prince of his own kingdom. He's a boy who just goes wherever the wind may blow, a boy that was quite the opposite of her, but she knows that the wind is not good for a wildfire.
The wind too strong, the flames too bright, the fire would eventually spread and spread, leaving behind devastation and destruction in its beautiful and burning wake. Everything about a fire was dangerous, yet she can't help but want to draw nearer.
She shifts her eyes ever so slightly so she can see him without giving herself away. He stares at the lake, much like she does on long and dreary summer nights, with a look of contentment and something akin to curiosity.
She is also curious though it's mainly about him; just what was he thinking?
He breathes deeply and she is startled by the silent sound of the forest around them being broken. She turns her head to see him pick up a stick, using it to draw lines and curves in the gravelly ground below them.
"Were there any places like this in your deeprealm?" he asks, and she is pleased by the sound of his low voice.
She stretches her arms out in front of her, placing her hands on her knees, and smiles just a bit at the way he plays in the dirt. He draws a circle, then two lines and a curve; she lets out a tiny breath.
"I don't think so," she answers, and he continues to draw in the dirt. "If there was, I never found it."
"Yeah, me neither," he says, and this time he draws a box though he doesn't place anything in it. "I would've killed to have one though."
She agrees; this was definitely one of the most peaceful and breathtakingly beautiful places in their parents' world. So tranquil, so quiet, so different than the world that awaited them when they left the forest.
"To think that this was what we were missing out on all those years," he says, and she can taste the hint of bitterness that creeps into his voice.
"Years to us, months to them," she corrects him. He turns his head to look at her, his clear eyes startling to look at.
A light grey color that didn't belong to his father or his mother. Whose eyes were they?
"If we weren't shipped off to those prisons, how old would we really be? Not even a year?"
"Maybe not even born."
He nods his head and turns to look back at the lake. "But now we're here, practically adults. Almost the same age as our parents."
She turns to look back at the lake too, and she feels a sudden sadness, a sudden realization that she was not a normal child and they did not have normal lives. "I'm only a year younger than my mother."
"We were kept in the dark about everything," he says, drawing in the sand once again though this time with a little more force. He continues in a whisper. "I didn't even know how important my dad really was."
"A soon to be king," she tells him, though she knows she doesn't have to. He will take the very same title himself when the time comes.
"Don't remind me," he says dejectedly.
She sneaks another peek at him, just to see if he's mad at her or his father. She takes a deep breath.
"I understand," she says, but she's not sure if she really does. "Everyone claims that my father is the most perfect man alive—and I think they're right."
He stops his drawing but he doesn't look up.
"He's perfect in every meaning of the word," she continues, nervously pulling at the end of her sky knight uniform. "He's everything I aspire to be."
"Well, Matoi—"
"But it's so hard trying to live up to that image, to try and be the perfect person."
She pauses to take a breath. "Sometimes I just wish I was more like my mother. Or that I had idolized her instead."
She can feel his eyes suddenly on her again, and even though she isn't looking back, she can feel that intense heat in the air around her rise again. How could such cool colored eyes feel so warm?
"Sorry," she says, staring down at her knees. "I know I shouldn't complain."
He snorts.
"You have every right to," he says as he sits up, drumming the stick on his knees. "We've got similar stories."
Heat, the heat is killing her. How could it be so hot at this time of the day? The sun wasn't even fully out!
She looks up at the twilight sky, the sun growing even lower behind the horizon with each passing second, pinks turning into blues. The first stars had started to appear through the thick veil of the darkness coming from the east, and she realizes with a sad thought that these are not the same stars she grew up looking at. This world was completely alien to her even though it was technically her home land.
"Our dads sure gave us one hell of a life, huh?" he says with a sigh, and she finally finds the courage to look back at him though his gaze is fixated on the sky above as well.
His jaw is sharp and she traces the curve of his neck with her eyes as she watches him gulp. He blinks slowly, almost like he is living in a waking dream, but through his malcontent he has the smallest smile on his face. Nothing could ever keep this kid down.
He sighs again as he runs a hand through his unruly hair, and she finds herself letting out her own dreamy sigh. If only—
She's startled as she watches him stand up, as he pulls back his arm with the stick in hand and throws it far, out to the lake.
It hits the surface, breaking the otherworldly reflection of it, and she finds that she's forgotten how to breathe.
The heat is back and she realizes that fires are dangerous, hot; they are not to be touched. He was royalty, she was not; she should steer clear from anything having to do with the family.
Because fires can cause people heartbreaks too, but try as she might she could not help but want to stick her hand in the flame.
He sits back down and the temperature rises again. She's almost miserable in the heat but she doesn't bother to leave.
"Sorry," he says, and she finds her breath almost ragged. Fires often sucked all of the oxygen out of the air, just so they could survive a little bit longer.
She shakes her head, her wispy hair moving about her shoulders in a very imperfect way. How unbecoming of her to be acting like this in front of the prince.
Her heart is pounding, her blood is rushing; she can feel her stomach dancing on hot coals. What was wrong with her?
He turns to look at her and the air is getting harder to breathe, the heat is almost stifling, but she keeps her gaze steady. He's smiling, the emotion reaching those eyes, those cool colored eyes that are neither his mother's nor his father's; just whose were they?
His smile falls a little and turns into more of a dopey half-grin. It's endearing.
"Matoi," he says, and she quite likes the way her name sounds coming from his mouth. "I think you're closer to perfection than you realize."
It almost hurts; she can feel the tips of her fingers dancing across the top of the flame. She was tempting fate.
"I don't want to be perfect though," she says, shaking her head once again like a child. "I don't want to be like my father, I want to be myself."
But who was she without her father, without his influence? She would not be herself without him, she could not be.
She sees his face change to an emotion she cannot decipher, and she is glad she can't. It seems something close to sadness—or maybe it was pity.
"What did I say to you that one night on patrol?" he asks suddenly.
She scrunches her eyebrows together. Which night? There were plenty of nights which they had been on patrol together.
She tilts her head to the side, taking a guess. "Something about fires—"
"No," he interrupts with an amused grin. "About us, our fathers' influence."
Ah, she remembers it now, though she never truly forgot. She looks out to the lake. The ripples from his throw reaching the shore.
"If people only see our fathers when they look at us, then there is nothing we can do about it," she recalls. He smiles. "We will just have to prove that we are our own."
He sighs and looks up at the nearly dark sky. "Right. We've been on our own for practically our whole lives. The people in our deeprealms; do you think they only see our parents?"
"I'm not sure," she takes a look back over to him. "They knew us better than them I would like to think. They were hardly around."
"Does that ever make you upset?"
"What?"
"That our parents were never around."
She lets out a tiny breath and her fingers seem to fidget nervously with the hem of her uniform again.
"Of course."
"Did you ever tell them that?"
She bites the inside of her cheek. She could never tell her parents that; she knew they were trying their best, they were in a war for crying out loud, but that still didn't make it any better. They still hadn't really raised her, they were too young to be having children in a time like this—hell, they were practically children themselves. Sometimes she wishes she were never born, that her parents had either never met or had fallen in love with someone else or had at least waited like any other normal soldier would for this gods damn war to be over. She wishes and thinks about all of these things, but she could never speak them aloud to her darling parents. She wouldn't be able to handle the guilt.
"I always complained about it to my parents," he says. "Me and the old man had a big fight about it when I arrived here."
"I'm sure it was shocking to find out," she whispers, her eyes losing focus as her own thoughts start to take her attention.
To live almost your entire life in some otherworldly land, where if you walked far and long enough, you'd end up back in the same spot you started. Everything seemed real enough, but even as children they knew that was not truly their home. Home was where mom and dad and the rest of their families were; they knew normal kids did not only see their parents maybe once every year, and they especially knew it was not normal for their parents to stay the same age as they grew older, time catching up with them.
"Yeah," he sighs, placing a hand on either side of him atop the log. "Finding out your dad's the big cheese of some kingdom you didn't even know about, and the fact that you'll inherit that entire kingdom, is pretty shocking to say the least."
Her breathing has calmed, the temperature has finally cooled. They are on even ground, a common understanding that all of the kids from her generation agree on.
The deeprealms were prisons, and even though some enjoyed their stay while others despised it, it could never truly be home for them.
"I still love my parents though," he says. "There were times I thought I hated them, but in the end I don't think I could ever really stop loving them. If anything, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than their love and attention."
She doesn't answer and she's not really paying attention; the words echo around inside her head as she smooths out her uniform. But they still somehow get through, and she understands them clearly, perfectly.
But her hand is suddenly stopped and enveloped in a warmth as she snaps her head to look at him, those cool eyes meeting her own.
"Matoi, will you make me a promise?"
His face is completely serious, a look she is growing more and more accustomed to, yet she's not sure if she likes it.
She gulps.
"Yes?"
His gaze is smoldering, the sun sets behind him, but the temperature only seems to rise up her back as she feels her heart lurch towards her throat.
His eyes.
"Never abandon me like they did."
She hears herself make a tiny noise that surprises even him, although for just a moment. His eyes are pleading and she feels panic and elated all the same.
"Shiro, what are you saying?" she tries asking calmly, but there's an unmistakable shaking in her voice. How could one boy make her lose the composure she's worked so hard for so easily?
"I mean that even when we get older, and I take the throne, I want you to be by my side," he says easily. She's envious of his calm. "I trust you; you're one of my best friends."
She finds herself opening and closing her mouth, like a fish out of water gasping for air, but he speaks up again before she has the chance to even form a coherent sentence.
"Only if you want to though," he assures her quickly. "I know that normally, under your circumstances, that your family name would be indebted to the royal bloodline."
Ah yes, both her parents were retainers to the royal family. And both loved their jobs so dearly.
She finds him talking about such serious matters to be so jarring and unreal. She realizes that he was not as carefree as he seemed.
"But I want you to choose to be by my side; I don't want to tie you down. I mean, there's gotta be a reason you ride a Pegasus. You must feel so free up in the sky like that."
She can't help but let her mouth hang open just a bit as she tears her gaze away from his, eyes wandering back to the lake stretched out before them, though this time the view is a bit blurry.
"I just wanted to be like Father," she says, so quietly that she is sure he didn't hear.
He rubs his thumb absently over the back of her hand, almost causing her to start as she remembers that hers is in the warm grip of his.
She takes a side eyed peek at him and he stares back at her, and she realizes, she sees it as plain as day in those cool and grey eyes.
The eyes that are neither his mother's nor his father's, but instead they are his own.
And when she realizes this, she raises her head confidently, and she looks him squarely in those eyes and cannot help but nod resolutely.
"I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Shiro," she says with more confidence than she had anticipated, but she is pleased nonetheless when he smiles widely and intertwines his fingers with hers.
Her heart pounds involuntarily.
"I know that I won't be as great or as strong as my father will be when he's officially crowned, but I know with you, I just might stand a chance."
She laughs quietly, a small chuckle escaping her lips before saying, "That's not true. You're just as strong and as brave and as handsome as he is now."
He raises a brow. "You think I'm handsome?"
Her eyes widen and she tries to back pedal, though she knows it is probably too late. "Well, anyone would have to admit that you're handsome—"
"I'm teasing you, Matoi," he says in an exhale of breath, a laugh barely there. She wants to feel upset, but with his hand in hers, she's not sure she could ever feel that emotion again. "Don't worry though; we have plenty of time to figure it out. We are still kids after all."
She nods her head, trying to hide her smile. Promises of the future keep it there.
"You know," she says after a moment, trying to keep the wistful air out of her voice. "That almost sounded like a proposal earlier."
"Maybe it was," he replies, and she nearly chokes on her own spit when he says it.
And as soon as he says it, he realizes something and pulls his hand from hers, leaving her disappointed, though only for a moment. Instead he raises his hand in front of their faces, lifting only his pinky.
"You agreed to my promise so let's make it official," he says, pushing his pinky towards her firmly. "A promise ain't a promise without a pinky swear."
The words are confusing but they speak volumes to her and she smiles all the same, admiring him for himself and nothing else.
She lifts her own hand and extends the pinky, and she sees that he is waiting for her. He wants her to make the choice.
And she knows that he could never truly tie her down for this is something that she could only dream of ever since she had met him. She knows that this is what she was meant to do. There was no duty or debt behind her actions; she would be by his side for as long as she could.
So she pushes her hand forward, and wraps her pinky around his and her hand feels hot as she realizes that she's been thrown into the flames. She knows fires are dangerous and she knows what they can do, but she also knows that this is what was meant to be, what fate had planned out for her.
"I promise to stay by your side," she practically whispers, marveling at the sight of their hands. "For however long that you need me, I promise to never abandon you."
His pinky grips hers a little tighter.
"And I promise to stay by yours too, Matoi," he says, noting the way that her eyebrows raise. "We'll have each other's backs, now and always."
"Now and always," she agrees, and there's no turning back now. She smiles and she realizes that she doesn't want to let go.
And she doesn't have to as he still holds onto her, yet he leans closer even still and she closes her eyes, repeating the words, "Now and always."
She can't feel the heat or the relief of the breeze running through the trees, but all she can feel is the warmth running through her hand, all coming from that little pinky of hers.
And she can feel the warmth of his face closer to hers, and the faintest brushing of his lips against her own before she hears a shouting in the distance.
"Shinonome!"
He pulls back with an annoyed groan.
She opens her eyes with disappointment as she sees him looking over their shoulders, back to where the camp awaited them outside of their quiet world.
The voice calls out again, and she knows precisely who it is.
"The old man always did have perfect timing," he says with a sigh. He doesn't even bother to roll his eyes.
"He's using your formal name," she notes.
"Always does," he replies before standing. He offers his hand.
"I think I'll stay here a while longer."
He nods, giving her a once over, and she can't help but notice a faint shade of pink dusting his cheeks. She's sure she has one to match.
"Shinonome!" the voice calls again, and he can do nothing but sigh once more, moving away from their log, feet shuffling through the dirt.
She stares steadily at the lake, trying to calm every nerve and emotion coursing through her body when she hears him stop. She turns around.
"Hey, Matoi," he says, and she quite likes the way he says her name now. "How do you feel about being a queen?"
Her breath catches in her throat hard and her blood pumps faster as her heart nearly stops and she quite literally feels as if she's on fire. She fumbles over her words, but he just quietly chuckles.
"Don't worry. We've got time to figure it out," he assures her, and he turns around once more, walking to meet his father somewhere else.
She hums quietly and allows herself to fall back towards the ground feeling utterly and complete imperfect yet satisfied all the same.
She stares up at the sky, now darker with more stars and she wonders if life could truly go this way. Awful upbringings and neglectful parents and silly wars all seemed like nothing now. She could push through it all if she truly wanted to, she knows she could.
After all, she has someone by her side to help her along.
She lets out a dreamy sigh.