Rubbled Circumstances: Enemies to Lovers

Upon Sunrise

Samuil's POV...

The night slowly crept away, welcoming the warm sunrays into the bunker once again. I slowly stirred awake, but I was too cozy to move. I looked up at the ceiling of the bunker, studying the bolts, screws, and other things used to keep the bunker stable. It was old, but it was also one of the most durable and safe bunkers in our whole entire kingdom. I yawned as I continued staring off into space, scratching behind my long horns, my white locks frizzled and tangled around them. I had always hated when that happened, but I just felt too comfortable to move. My gaze turned towards the paintings above my bed as my fingers ran through my hair, soothing my horns.

The paintings were works from my great grandparents, themselves. Beautiful pieces that reflected beauty, emotion, and utter perfection. At a mere glance, they would always captivate me when I was a mere Enfant. It would happen so often that my father ordered the guards to bring the paintings to this bunker, to prevent my soul from being "lifted"... whatever that meant. Now that I stared closely at the paintings, however, I had noticed a rune detail in each corner of each painting; the translation: SAVING GRACE ENCHANTED. My great grandparents always had a history of being fond of magic, so I suppose it was no surprise when I read the runes. How mysterious. I wonder what intentions they had enchanted it with. Maybe it would be the key to end this war? Or maybe-

WHAT THE FUCK?!

I hadn't been paying attention to the amount of space left between Hyrur and I, so it was quite foolish of me to be surprised when I felt him grip my horns and lay on my chest. The warmth from his body was enthralling, however, but I shook my head, cursing myself silently because I had let down my guard while I was with the enemy. It doesn't matter if we agreed to be civil, he can't be trusted. Not even while he's unconscious and unaware.

I tried to nudge him off, desperately trying to create a form of space between us so he wasn't touching me. Hadn't he known better? It's a death sentence to touch a Wraith, let alone allow  yourself to sleep with one. I sighed, and I accepted my fate, allowing his stupid soft hands to caress my horns, while he nuzzled into my chest... damn cuddly Harpy's. I feel bad for your suitors. They must hate how you act in your sleep, meanwhile I hate you all the time. 

I grumbled as his wings enveloped us, his feathers itching my skin, causing my body to feel endangered. I managed to roll out of bed, calming myself down to avoid sucking his soul and body into a realm of eternal torture. I stood up, angrily brushing myself off while I reached for my hairbrush. Damn you, Hyrur. I could've killed you! I wasn't sleeping with you to PROTECT you, you foolish bird-brained pin-head. 

He rolled over in his sleep, cooing as he dreamt. I noticed how his exposed chest rose and fell, his muscles surprisingly impeccable and well-built. I shook my head, putting my hairbrush back down as I knelt beside my bed. I wasn't sure why, but I felt something different when I was around him. It wasn't possible for Wraiths to have soulmates, they're technically dead.

What the fuck are you doing to me, you red-headed sockpuppet?

I grabbed my journal, and I began writing into it with my fancy ink-pen, in an attempt to pass the time.

~Journal Entries with Samuil~

Journal entry number 3, Bunker adventures day 3. I feel something tugging at my nonexistent heart-strings. If my ma was here to scold me for being inconsiderate of my well-being, I'm sure she'd also force me to consume happy energy, again. Souls that are way too happy cause their energy to become rotted and deterring. Regardless of my opinion on that matter, I'm sure I should remain concerned with my body, mind, and soul. Is it possible for Wraiths to die? I'd assume so, that's why my ancestors aren't here anymore. It all started after that conversation, after I had let up my walls... did Hyrur curse me? Unfortunately, within this confined space, limited answers are available. I'll be sure to ask my mother and father when I'm finally rescued from this prison. I am too tired for a proper signature, Prince Samuil blah blah blah. May I be found safe and all that nonsense.

I yawned after finishing up my writing session, my body feeling light and content. I leaned my head back, onto the mattress, and my eyes slowly fluttered shut. Was I making a mistake by letting down my walls...? I'm too tired to think anymore.

My body fell into a steady rhythm of breathing, my chest rising and falling as my eyelids closed completely.

Hyrur's POV,..

I felt something pull out of my grip as I stirred awake a bit, but my limbs felt like led. All I could feel was something pokey and jagged within my grip. I loved the sensation between my soft fingertips, so my hands stayed snug around it, even as it felt like it rolled off of the mattress. I cooed contentedly, before my eyes opened and brought me back to my senses. I looked around for Samuil as I kept gently massaging the pokey, jagged sticks within my grip, the texture was cold and satisfying. I had expected Samuil to be up and about like usual, afterall he was a sucker for waking up early or on time. Samuil? Has he died, finally?

I looked around, genuinely bamboozled as I couldn't find him. I could smell him, but I couldn't tell if it was just the bed, or if it was an actual lead. I ignored it and I decided to turn my focus to shouting out for him. If I couldn't see him, maybe I'd hear him? Samuil, I swear...

"SAMUIL??" I called out, and silence greeted me. How insightful...

However, my celebrations for Samuil's death were short-lived when I heard a groan of annoyance come from the foot of the bed...

I looked over, sitting up to get a better view, and I saw Samuil hunched up and... purring? Growling? He was making some kind of Wraith-noise. I looked down at my hands, and redness immediately rushed to my face.

The jagged, cold pokey things were his HORNS?! Shit, did I turn him on? Is he mad, is that why he sounds like a dog defending it's owner from a messenger? 

My questions were answered when I felt him impatiently nudge my hands, signalling me to keep going. However, I didn't oblige; I wasn't just gonna give him a happy moment, for FREE! Nuh-uh, prince gothy-boy, You gotta pay me for head pets and horn scratches... little attention whore.

I pulled my hands away, and I stretched my wings before standing up. Since Samuil had fallen asleep again, I needed to get along with heating up some food so he didn't do some weird shit with my soul, for his own benefits. The only problem was very, very tiny... just a smidgen of inconvenience...

I had

absolutely

NO IDEA 

what the picky motherfucker wanted to eat...

I wish I could shove your own horns up your ass, sometimes.