Prompt: OC leaves home, and with it; her duties behind for the night. In the depths of a forest, she meets a new individual, one who drags her back to their meadow, every night, until everything spills.
Warning[s]: None, quite fluffy :)
Pairing: Technoblade x OC [My OC!]
i purely wrote this because i needed comfort, and i was kinda grieving, and i also kinda like royalty too. and i kinda miss a lot of things. i just needed fluff not going to lie, anyways. i hope you have fun reading <3 i was rambling mindlessly, your honour.
The stars collided the night she departed the walls that had trapped her for so long. And she knew not whether her absence would be permanent within the castle, but she needed respite. Urgently. As she sped across the quiet gardens, the wind howled in her ears, despite the clear skies; it seemed as though nature was reprimanding her. Her nightgown fluttered around her feet as she felt the gentle crunch of slightly overgrown grass under her feet. A council member’s courtesy. But that didn’t matter then, because the gates that led out into the forest were right there—Just out of grasp, and she picked up her pace, sprinting as the wind slapped her face like a cooling reminder that if she chose to step foot out there; what awaited her may have not been what she hoped for. Though, what did she hope for, anymore?
In one hopeful sprint—which truth be told was more a leap—she had reached the gates. Her hands worked quickly around the safeguards, around the systems, and finally, with a push, one of them slid open a few inches. Just perfect for her to slip right through. But when she stepped through, the whispers of the wind grew louder. Her eyes met what she considered pure beauty. The words melded together in her throat, and she considered that she didn’t quite care for words as she watched a small animal leap into a bush nearby. Perhaps she ought to take detours out of the back gates that led out here more often. Into nature, into what was strictly restricted for her. Her fear had long dissipated, and she turned back, gently pulled the gates shut—And she was out. Even if for a moment, she knew freedom, not truly, perhaps. But, it would suffice.
Her feet carried her further between the forest, when she looked up, she noticed the everlooming canopies, the greens of the leaves reaching far into the navy blanket of the sky. In spots that the leaves couldn’t hide, stars twinkled, and rather childishly; she wished to reach for them. Many a twig cracked under the weight of her feet, but with each one, she’d grown less worried. It was silent around her, only the wind and the night accompanied her here. She strayed further but paid no mind to where she may be heading. With gentle hands, she traced the patterns on tree trunks, pushed away branches when they grew too low, and felt the Earth below her.
Small specks of dirt had situated themselves in the lines on her hand, and she let out a light chuckle at that, the sound being swept away in the wind as she trudged further, the breeze her companion on this temporary journey to freedom. She felt as though the wind was carrying her, nudging her forward, between trees, through an endless forest. But she minded it not one bit. She was content, to breathe in air that didn’t remind her of duties she had yet to tend to, the list of which seemed never ending.
A soft melody worked itself up her throat, past her lips; out to the world. She faintly recognised nocturnal creatures as they scurried past her, little squeaks and purrs occasionally puncturing the silence that she had built with herself in the past few minutes that ticked. Her feet dragged her through the land, until she had halted, two trees sheltering her from both sides. She leant forward, and her breath caught in her throat; a meadow, with flowers that bloomed during the night.
Slowly, she stepped forward, out between the flowers, the petals tickling her ankles and a bit further up. She allowed herself the simple joy of existing with beauty as such. She gently weaved her way through, letting her fingers feel the petals as she leant down. But when she looked up, she stopped her in tracks. The moon glittered in its full beauty, in her fullest form, and her heart swelled with joy. Beside her were the stars, glistening like diamonds woven specifically for the navy velvet that was the night sky. She had already lost all semblance of meddling any further. She was rooted to her spot, between the flowers and the night sky. Between the trees, and the wind that had grown much gentler as she ventured further into the grasps of nature.
Her eyes scanned the horizon, and all she could see was the beautiful stitch of the night sky, navy, glistening, and ever so beautiful. Settling between the flowers, she brought her knees up to her chest, her breaths of contentment heard only by her and perhaps the wind that carried it away. She tilted her head back, the canopies of the trees that she had left behind swaying with the breeze as it passed them and reached her back, somehow getting under the thin fabric of her nightgown. The fabric itself grew taut in places as she sat on it, but she paid no heed to that. Her senses were all enamoured by the grace that surrounded her.
Although it hadn’t been long since she found herself amidst the petals, and the wind, and the trees—She heard rustling, or was it shuffling? Instinctively, her body stilled, as if the threat would go away. She hoped that it wasn’t someone from the castle. She didn’t want to return any time soon. Foolishly, she wished for this freedom to last for even a few moments longer. Her eyes fluttered close and her heartbeat picked up, hammering in her ears instead of her chest.
Then, cold metal was pressed against her neck, and she couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up her spine. Still, she didn’t move, didn’t react. Move. She wanted to say, don’t hurt me. Oddly enough, she could tell that it was a blade, but it didn’t feel like any of the ones she had grown accustomed to, at the castle. It felt much lighter, almost like a feather. Like if she was slain with it; she would die thinking it was a soft breeze carrying her soul away. But the pressure left, and she dared open her eyes. And from her peripheral, she could feel the curious gaze on her, and… pink hair. Slowly, she turned her head towards the person who had almost attacked her. And her breath hitched in her throat, out of surprise.
She had never seen anyone like him before. His eyes glowed like rubies, like actual gemstones, and the colour of them would remind her of blood, but it also reminded her of the flush that creeped up her best friend’s face when she saw the royal gardener. His hair was an exquisite shade of pink, and it seemed to be braided into a loose braid that fell over his shoulder when he leant down to look at her. She almost thought she was hallucinating because it looked as though two small tusks were poking out from below his lips, but she didn’t look much further, she realised how impolite she probably seemed then. Although, she couldn’t deny that he was, or at least looked unique. There was something about him, perhaps his aura? Or his stance? She couldn’t quite place it, but it felt as though he was as free as a poet and yet at the same time bound by duties that weighed him down every step—Towards his own freedom, too.
“You aren’t from anywhere nearby,” He declared, uttering as he sheathed his sword, seemingly hesitating and awkwardly standing there, facing her side.
She didn’t quite mind, patting the grass beside her; she shook her head no. She never got out there, in the forest. She barely went out, at all. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her as he gently sat next to her, cross-legged.
“No, I’m not from anywhere nearby,” She echoed his words, smiling at him. She didn’t know him, maybe, but a little bit of kindness could make the biggest difference.
“Your nightgown definitely says so, too.” He huffed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked away, gazing into the sky. But she had had enough ambiguity from him, so still, as her head rested on her knees, she looked at him. She noticed a few strands of his hair had gone astray, fluttering in the wind beside his face.
“Sure, of course,” She started, voice tinted with light amusement, “but who are you?”
He turned back to her, smiling openly. “Just someone passin’ through, but I’m usually referred to as ‘The Blade’.” He sounded almost proud, and she barely fought back her own sound of amusement, not so surprised, but rather amused.
“What are you, some sort of cryptic messenger? Causer of manslaughter?” Her voice was overflowing with the simple sound of joy, of amusement that lingered in the air even after her words echoed past.
“You could call me that,” He said, chuckling. And she would be lying if she said it wasn’t weird that he had opened up to her so quickly, but then again; things could be much different out here than they were back within those sickening walls. “Well, what should I call you, Your highness?”
“Woah, there’s no need for that.” She laughed awkwardly, wanting to be free of her royal duties, of being a monarch some day. “Just call me… Hesperia.”
“You’ve got a beautiful namesake there,” He whispered, his tone softening into interest that was almost childish. And his words felt tender and genuine, unlike everything she had grown accustomed to over all the years. She watched him test her name on his tongue as it rolled off softly, a smile playing on his lips. Only then did she notice that he was now mimicking her position. His knees were brought up to his chest, and he had his arms wrapped around them, head resting and meeting her gaze.
She chuckled. “Thanks.” Her eyes scanned over his face once before turning back to the sky, the moon had sunken a bit lower, but that was nothing. Surely, there were many more hours to the night. More time for her to just let go, let the words seep out of her, and let her body rest.
She didn’t mind that he appeared, she didn’t mind his presence at all; if anything, she appreciated it. The casualty of it all was refreshing, and she loved that he didn’t treat her like she was some great person beyond what she actually was, because truth be told? She really was that simple. Or at least wanted to be.
“Hey Hesperia?” He called out, and she looked back at him, urging to speak on. “Why are you out here at night? I’m just wondering, it is unsafe, and you look like you ran away or something.”
She chuckled. “I don’t care for the safety, and yes, I kind of did. But, I will be returning.” She smiled at him. “I have duties to tend to, but they can wait until the morning. I like the night, it’s peaceful. I feel like sometimes I am much lighter during the hours of moonlight in comparison to the day.”
“Royalty is that stressful?” He asked, but she knew that deep within, he had the answer too. He knew too. Still, she answered him.
“I’m afraid, so, yes.” She laughed, head turned down towards her own knees.
He didn’t really speak much further. They just existed, together; in the night. And many nights followed where they did quite the same, but it never got boring. It never got tiring. She left the castle more often, and he ventured down to their little meadow, because he’d finally met someone who wasn’t afraid of him. They spent many hours under the moonlight, some of them tangled in each other’s arms. Others they spent weaving flowers together, as little presents, as habits.
One such night, she was braiding his hair, weaving asters into the pink mane that was his, he smelt like the forest, but it comforted her. He was sitting between her legs, and she worked carefully, making a loose braid, admiring her work. He pulled his braid over his shoulder, feeling the curves and the dips where the petals were entwined. A smile tugged on his lips, and she caught it in the moon’s gleam that they basked under.
“This is beautiful, thank you.” He leant further back, resting his head on her shoulder as he looked up at her. She smiled down at him, playing with the ends of her sleeves.
“Call me Aeron, by the way,” His voice was quiet, despite the proximity, despite the silence that surrounded them. Still, she almost questioned whether she heard him.
“Aeron?” She tested the name on her tongue, and she smiled at him.
He raised his head from her shoulder, and his face was turned away.
But from what she could see, a light scarlet tinted his cheeks, and she smiled, chuckling. Gently, she cupped his face, turning it around, so they were eye-to-eye. “I love your name.”
He looked up at her, and warmth swelled in his gut. Under her palms, his face grew warmer.
He huffed, hooking his arms around her waist and tugging her into his arms, her head in the crook of his neck, laughter resonating against him. “You’ve got a beautiful mind and all, but when you tease me like that. I don’t like it at all.”
“I’m afraid you’re lying.” She grinned at him, leaning up and kissing the bridge of his nose. He blushed a deeper red, and gosh, he almost looked like his hair. She couldn’t stifle her laughter anymore. She burst into chuckles, hands placed on his shoulders to stabilise herself. His hands rested on her lower back, holding her.
His gaze was fixated on her, ruby red eyes saved for only her, and whatever brewed beneath them a beautiful sea of emotions only to her. For her, perhaps. She didn’t notice this time, but it was okay, because she always did anyway.
“Beautiful,” His words caught both of them as a bit of a surprise. She looked down, and now it was her turn to turn scarlet. His eyes widened when he realised what he said, and he stilled, but she looked at him for a moment and smiled. And that somehow had all the power in the world to melt away at his heart. Like it was nothing. He brought his hands to her neck, up her chin, and he cupped her face, like she was precious. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists, like she was wondering what he was about to do.
Ever gently, he leant up, brushing away a stray strand of her hair. “Can I?” His voice came out a quiet whisper, but he knew she heard him. Her heartbeat picked up, and he could feel the rattle of her bones, all of it within his arms. And he never knew that someone could be like that for him, but instead of fear, it was this love that shook her bones. And he was scared of what love did to someone, but he loved her.
He felt his bones rattle with the same emotions that he knew she was feeling too. So when she nodded lightly, not a breath was wasted before his lips were on hers. And her arms found their way around his neck, fingertips grazing his hair lightly. He held her close, he held her together, because he was scared she might turn into putty in his hands. And the warmth was radiating off her in waves when his hands sunk back down to rest on her lower back.
When she pulled away, she was breathing heavily, but somehow her hands found their way onto his chest, and he would be ashamed of the way his heart was hammering rapidly in his chest, but he knew that she did not care for it.
“I didn’t know I did that to you,” She whispered, voice shaking slightly. But only his heart beat faster. He cupped one side of her face, she leant into his hand.
“You do a lot of things to me, and you don’t even realise.” He leant forward, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. “You’re so immersed in everything around you, and you see the beauty in everything, how could I not get lost in the joy of knowing you?”
“You need to stop thinking I’m so great.” She hid her face in the crook of his neck.
He held her close, his nose buried in her hair. “I can’t. You know the word eunoia?”
“I’ve heard of it, I think.”
He chuckled, weaving one hand through her hair, brushing out the tangles with his fingers. His other hand lay around her waist, keeping her safe, and in his arms. “It reminds me of you.”
She blushed, and she looked up. He smiled down at her. “Shush.”
“I mean it, you’re beautiful like that. And I wished people would see that.” His fingers gently carded themselves through her hair again, and she leaned into him as much as she could, feeling his warmth as much as she could.
“Don’t speak to me like I’m poetry.”
“You are poetry, and I’ll be your poet.” His lips found the bridge of her nose, like hers had found his, earlier that night. That felt a few nights ago.
To him, at least. To have finally let go of whatever had been brewing within him, and to let it all pass, with her, it felt like being loved. He felt loved. She brushed her hands over his shoulder, and his hands memorised the curves and dips of her fingers.
She loved him like breathing, and he loved her like poets loved poetry, and nature, and life. Maybe she was his life. And he didn’t quite know when she had become so, but he found that he didn’t mind at all. He loved her too, and wasn’t that the most beautiful thing? To bare your heart to someone, and not feel fear for doing that?
She was beautiful, and she was his. And he was hers.
