A/N: Found a one sentence prompt on livejournal and figured I would try my hand at it. I did another story off a similar kind of thing but I wanted to see if I could do it again. I did bend the 'one sentence' rule for a few of them and I may have cheated on a few others.
.Ring.
She asked him once about the ring he wore on his right hand and watched as he twisted it slightly around his finger in response; he never gave her an answer for it though.
.Hero.
He let out a heavy sigh and fell against her open shoulder next to him, listening to the light chuckle she passed his way; after a battle like that, he needed someone to take the weight off his shoulders.
.Memory.
"Do you ever remember what things were like before the wars?" she questioned as she strapped a new poleax to the side of her saddle.
"Some times… but the memories feel few and far between now."
.Box.
"When are we going to stop dealing with all this packing?" he remarked, lifting yet another box onto the back of the carriage; after spending all morning moving things, his body ached and he was ready to leave half of these boxes behind.
.Run.
Sometimes there was nothing more empowering and frightening than running straight down the center of the battlefield to rush the enemy, but as long as he was right at her side… nothing could go wrong.
.Hurricane.
The wind outside battered and shook the windows and doors in their frames, almost shaking the entire retreat around them; he was glad to have her close by though, just in case.
.Wings.
"They're just like us, except with wings." she chuckled, finding a light form of entertainment in watching the Pegasus Knights overhead swing about.
"Hmm… I think it's going to take more than a pair of wings for them to be like you."
.Cold.
She commented once that the cold weather always made her hands stiff and that old age made her joints ache; he was always the first to deny her age and warm her hands up with his own.
.Red.
It was her signature color and he had to admit that he couldn't see her in anything else; she looked best in red.
.Drink.
Neither of them were drinkers considering they were considered the 'parental' figures of the group, but that didn't mean they rejected every glass.
.Midnight.
It was like clockwork sometimes, she always somehow managed to find herself awake at the darkest hour… now and days though, she wasn't always alone at that time.
.Temptation.
War time gave them little time to rest, let alone a spare moment to themselves for once, but they always seemed to find time to give into the occasional moment or two.
.View.
The sight of tangled sheets and equally tangled red locks was something he could definitely wake up to every morning.
.Music.
She laughed and, after some convincing, let him spin her around in the middle of street as the small band celebrating nearby played a light melody with their instruments.
.Silk.
The soft sheets of the palace guest rooms were a luxury after a near year and a half on the battlefield; they expressed their gratitude for the royal invitations before they headed back to test the sheets out.
.Cover.
She remembered the brief panic as she tried to stop the blood flowing out of her neck all while watching as the lucky-striking soldier circled back around, but he kept close to her side, determined to keep her safe this time.
.Promise.
"Promise me you won't take a hit like this." she started as a light joke to break the mood; the front portion of her tunic had become stained from the blood but she managed to get the bleeding under control once the battle was over.
"I don't think I can, but I can promise that I won't go out looking for one."
.Dream.
Sleep was a rarity in times of war and when it did pass, it was empty and blind… more often than not it made waking up seem like a dream instead.
.Candle.
She hated the way the candle light lit the small tent, casting shadows around every corner of every object, even in the folds of the thin covers… curving over the shape of his arm and catching the rough bind of his bandages.
.Talent.
The occasional comment about their talents on the battlefield always seemed to drift around, sometimes it was spoken straight to them, but they always denied the use that term- after all, having a talent was something to be proud of; they were fighting to keep themselves and the people they loved safe, and that in itself was enough reasoning, but there always seemed to be a darker half to every action.
.Silence.
Once the rest of the team was looked after and taken care of, she enjoyed the moments of solitude and stillness they could share with one another- at least, for a short while.
.Journey.
"Sometimes I question when this journey will end… and other times, I think that this is merely just the beginning."
.Fire.
There were few things she hated more than the sight of isolated flames burning the battlefield, but he still liked to comment that it complimented her colors so well.
.Strength.
She had a certain type of strength he had never seen in another fighter before and knew there were plenty of soldiers who wished and envied that type of force; but he knew that underneath that fighter was a woman who was even stronger.
.Mask.
More often than not, they both had to carry and play into the same facade when things turned against them; they had to be strong and help the team continue to push forward, but that strength didn't always last and he preferred to be in her company when the mask came off.