1. Seraphic

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. action reaction

s e r a p h i n a

☽ ☾

She wasn't sure how long they laid there.

Enough so that the warmth she once felt had turned into a chill that had covered her body in goosebumps, ones that didn't go away no matter how hard she tried to cover herself with the white bedsheets.

Before she knew it, his arms were sliding away from around her and he was shifting on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath his weight as he sat up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and soft. She heard muffled ruffling, and realised he was pulling his clothes back on.

"No," she whispered, staring straight ahead, a hand under her head. "I do not know what compelled me to do this. This is not like me."

"Is it that completely unlike yourself? Taking a risk?"

"One this big and of such great consequence? Yes. Treasonous risks that harm my own family? Yes." They would both be killed if anyone found out: her for so much as looking at the enemy and him for daring to touch the Princess.

Seraphina finally found the strength to move, wrapping herself with the bedsheets as she gathered her clothes and slid into them, her heart still pounding against her chest even now.

"Not if no-one finds out. If this will truly ruin you as much as you claim, then we had better hope you are as good at keeping secrets as you said you could be." She nodded, even though their backs were to each other and he couldn't see her. "Was that... your first time?"

"That obvious?" she asked breathily, raising and tugging the straps of her gown up her arms.

"Not at all," he said, surprising her. "Was it at least a good time for you?"

She sighed. "Very."

"Good," he breathed, "because it was my first time, too." She looked back at him quickly, and then her eyes widened. "Is it that hard to believe?" he asked, lips curving up faintly in amusement.

"No, I just... I stole it," she whispered. "We were never supposed to have done this." Everyone saved their firsts for their soulmates—their betrothed and bonded: they didn't so much as think about anyone else, or feel the same way towards them in the slightest. And yet... "I am not yours."

He stared at her. "What difference does it make? What is done is done." She turned back round, straightening her gown and slipping into her shoes. "Nice tattoo."

He must have noticed the stars on her ribcage. Seeing was one thing; noticing was something else—it was like listening and hearing. One was passive, the other active.

"Thank you," she murmured. "What are all those scars on your back?" He paused, halfway through buttoning up his tunic. "I—I did not mean to pry. I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"Being a general gets hard," was all he said, before he raised.

Did that explain the scars of branding, the sigil of Seraphim on his left shoulder and the Sigil of Orphim on his right?

"I think we need to leave." She walked over to him, and wondered what had taken over her mind to allow her to even kiss her enemy? Who was currently still in her chambers. "Our parents might be looking for us soon, and it is better we find them before they do us."