He was born on December 31st... And just a few short hours later, her arrival came to pass in an entirely separate part of the Shihoin Mansion ( and under many more watchful eyes than he ), born on January 1st.
Sometimes, he thought that perhaps she had been born just for him.
She certainly didn’t behave like a typical princess -- and not due in any part to a shortage of resources on her part. She was regularly put through the monarchial wringer with a strictly observed schedule, passed around by private tutors and etiquette instructors alike. Perhaps it was because of the inert detest for her own position she’d seemed to be born with. She quietly reserved herself to her destined position, folding her slender hands into the ample sleeves of her rich, elegant robes and schooling her expression into that of a stoic and untouchable figurehead while striking crowns of gold and silver adorned her hair like a halo -- but there was fire behind her eyes, and she tore that veil she wore before the public eye asunder whenever the aperture closed behind her, raking her wild nails through her even more untamed hair and tearing through the night like a righteous thunderstorm rolling through the hills.
She always made time for him -- whether it was squeezing an hour in between music lessons and sparring sessions or sneaking out beneath the guise of the moonlight. No matter where he was, she always found him, and they played every day. Every day she would come for him, and every day he bore witness to the lightening storm that was the girl beneath the imposing weight of that crown -- he watched her stretch and grow and evolve, as she did he, memorizing her fears, her insecurities, her dreams and her breaths.
She never took him seriously, of course ...why should she, given his station? It should have been enough, considering that she was a princess -- the princess, and no amount of desire from either party for their respective reasons could feasibly change that. And perhaps she knew that -- perhaps it was why she never took him seriously. Perhaps that was why she always teased him the way she did, playfully flirting without any real substance or intention behind the gesture; perhaps she felt safe enough with him to be utterly and wholly herself. ...perhaps she trusted him.
She shouldn’t have -- not with the way he watched her hips swing as they began to fill out with the whiles of womanhood. But he accepted his lot with a patient smile. He volleyed her flirtations and her suggestive barbs back with an amiable nature, and he pushed every button on her metaphorical being -- he relished in riling her up in the only way he might ever be given the pleasure of having opportunity to, watching the lightening that danced along the edges of her soul fray out her hair and light up her dark, luxurious skin.
Nothing lasted forever -- as the scientist he’d grown into, he knew that a stagnant environment was unsustainable. Everything changed that night in the forest, the life he had known and cultivated for himself and those he cherished ripped from the clutch of his grasp. The world had gone dark, and he’d been drowning as he gathered what little remnants of his sanity remained and stood in the raging sea of inky black, his head cast down before the jury that had decided a fate he had not rightfully earned ...once more, resigned to his lot.
...And then, from the depths of his darkest hour, in a flash of lightening ...she came for him once again. No matter where he was, she always found him. The thunderstorm, the force of nature had cast down her crown and thrown away the fate that she, too, had resigned herself to ...for the sake of crafting a new one for the both of them. He stood there stunned beneath the weight of the inconceivable knowledge that she had abdicated her duties and abandoned her various positions of wealth and authority ...all for the sake of his insignificant self. Let’s go, she’d said ...as if it were the easiest decision she’d ever made.
...Perhaps, he thought for the very first time ...such things weren’t so far from his reach. Perhaps, he thought as he took the hand of a woman who had proven she would follow him into hell ( with a smile to rival the Devil himself’s on her beautiful features ) in bewilderment and terribly dangerous optimism, fate wasn’t something to be resigned to, and anything in this world could be changed after all.
...He was born on December 31st, and she arrived shortly after on January 1st.
Sometimes he thought she had been born just for him.
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