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You are fire.
Flames lick across the canvas of your grimy skin, and you stand in the wake of destruction. Buildings and bridges have been tainted by your calloused, tanned hands, collapsing before you in surrender. Your fury is unrivaled, beating violently within your rib cage and flowing through your boiling veins. Unsettling determination sits behind your dragon eyes like a promise. They are olive and young, but the exhaustion shows through in the silence of midnight. Then, they are black and ancient, jaded and scarred over time by brothers and fathers alike.
You stand regardless, because it’s all you have left of your old man.
You stand, despite weak knees and bloody lacerations throughout your body.
You stand, despite Magnolia’s trembling at your feet and roaring in your ears.
You stand, because it’s all you know how to do.
The war is finally over, but you’ll always be fighting.
“Natsu!” She yells, fear in her thunderous call.
You turn at the sound of her voice. It pulls you from the shadows, from the demon that threatens to reign over those precious to you.
You don’t know much about the stars, but you are certain in your belief that she is a supernova. Her gentle touches are explosions on your skin and all you can see is her. She is blinding.
Her lungs are filled with ash and there is smoke in her throat when she reaches you, but there is nothing more soothing to her. Even as she coughs, her hands shake with the taste of victory and relieved tears blur her vision.
She blinks and stardust falls from her lashes. She smiles and the universe kneels. She looks only at you, and you think of nothing but love. You think of nothing but the future.
You are calm, but only in her presence.
She is safe.
You are hers.
One day, you’ll be sure to tell her. It’s only a matter of time.
For now, you’re content with falling unconscious in her arms.
.
.
.
It is only when you awake, covered in red-stained white bandages, that you notice three things.
The remnants of a Sky Maiden’s magic, the smell of medicinal herbs, and her.
There is dried blood on her tattered outfit and dirt on her face, but she has not left your side.
She is no princess. You decided so a long time ago.
She is so much more than lustrous ball gowns, plastic laughter, silk sheets, and faultless hands. Polished diamond is no match for her. Since your fateful encounter, you always knew there was more to it—that Princess was too simple a title for someone like her.
You were right.
As long as her chocolate eyes own the light of dead winter stars, as long as you can always hear her laugh, scraped knees and messy golden locks suit her much better.
Her company suits you much, much better.
You stand again, but not because it’s all you know.
You stand for tomorrow. You stand for the family you still can protect. You stand for her.
Her soot covered hands worry at your torso, wanting to protect you from further damage. Your best friend, blue and wings fluttering, cries in happiness. She lectures you for almost an hour, and you break into a wide grin. The nostalgia is very welcomed.
She gives in and walks with you eventually, supporting your body as you make your way outside. The scent of her faded vanilla perfume and the green forest ahead of you quickly becomes your favorite. It clears your lungs, burning through your airway in an entirely new, pleasant manner. Your skin is thrumming with the joy of rebirth and endless roads. Blue summer skies surround you, and you limp towards an old tree to lean on it, but turn again as she calls your name. You think you'll always turn around at her call, no matter what.
She asks you where you’re going.
You stretch out your bandaged arm to her easily, beaming.
And you tell her, “Let’s continue on our adventure!”
Her eyes widen, and she smiles again.
She takes your hand just as she always has, because to her, you are paramount to any burning sun. You are the universe.