It was the mutual yet silent reverence between them that formed the bond. It was mostly without words; the understanding, the emotion, and above all, the respect, all were shared, honest and simple, solely between them. Their conversation consisted of their eyes, learning far more of each other than the others would ever care to know. A mere glance revealed one another's deepest thoughts; their stiff, reserved body language replaced what they felt did not have to be expressed with words. They took comfort in the similarities in their demeanour, in their approach to life, and of course, death. There were no lies, and everything was laid bare, naked and vulnerable, between them. Their past experiences further cemented this bond – both had lost people precious to them due to their weakness, their helplessness, and their naivety. Both had made a silent oath respectively, at different stages, swearing to protect their promises and their Summoner. Both had decided they were damaged goods, worthy only in being able to give their lives to protect those who deserved life, far more than they themselves, as well as the youthful innocence of their younger companions. It was in this that both found furiously determined strength to carry on, despite the tiredness each one felt.

Auron, however, blamed Spira's cruel nature for causing unnecessary suffering. Thirteen years her senior, he had great respect for the stoic Black Mage, and yet he lamented slightly for the loss of the free-spirited innocence from within her; no person deserves this to be taken from them, he thought bitterly, for he was the same. His desire to change the world had robbed him of everything he held dear. In his foolishness, he had hoped that Braska would be different from the others, and thus, had conceded to him summoning the Final Aeon. This foolish hope, he had thought, as Yunalesca struck him down, cost him both Jecht and Braska, and gained him everlasting guilt in their stead. In atonement for not being strong enough to protect them, in death he vowed to protect their offspring. Should he fail, his punishment would be to suffer as an unsent in a world he had grown to hate. This was his price. A pity, he mused to himself, that the Black Mage understood him so. They were so very much alike, yet vastly different; she still had so much to live for, whilst he existed only for a promise he was unsure, yet stubborn, that he would keep. And yet, her maturity and keen understanding of life's course at the mere age of twenty three was a result of a hidden naivety that, if crushed, she would brush off as a simple sacrifice and immediately accept in place of knowledge. Loss was a process of growth. He knew she understood this, and admired her more for it. It made her all the more beautiful a creature in his eyes, blind or not. Her ability to control all aspects of her personality was impeccable, and yet, he knew in her a quiet burning he felt was far more dangerous than wildfire. She was simply stunning.

Still, he thought, it was only a matter of time before the ugly truth of Yevon and Sin was exposed to them all, and he wondered for a moment about the resolve of their young Summoner. I need not worry, he decided, for she is very much the daughter of Braska, and chastised himself briefly for having doubted her ability. Wondering further, he contemplated the Black Mage's inevitable reaction, and realized that it would not shake her much. Surprise, perhaps, but she would not lose the desire to fight. There is a lioness sleeping within her, he concluded proudly to himself. Head bowed, he angled his gaze ever so slightly towards the Black Mage, his good eye absorbing the image of her resting figure, his other taking in far more. He watched her sleep, her still, even breathing washing over his rugged form, and he silently enjoyed the calm quiet that her fitful resting brought him.

'You're thinking too hard, Sir Auron.'

Auron watched as the Black Mage steadied herself and slowly sat upright, and cursed himself for having thrown his thoughts hard at her sleeping form. He watched her blink sleep from her shimmering carnelian-coloured eyes as she gracefully rose off of the mat, brushing off bright crystal dust that had fallen from the Macalanian trees around them onto her dark, heavy dress.

'My apologies. Go back to sleep, your turn to take guard has yet to start.'

'I would rather be useful, and keep you company.'

'Very well.'

In contrast, whenever there were words between them, Auron felt a dull ache in his chest, that he was sure the Black Mage could easily detect from the slight shift in his demeanour; nevertheless, if she had noticed, she gave no sign. If she ever had a response, it was even less discernible. As she walked over to him, necklaces and belts chiming in a symphonic dance, he shifted his body slightly so as to signify that she may stand close to him. The sorceress complied, her left arm rising to hold her right in a relaxed stance, hip slightly cocked, and Auron took his time to appreciate her womanly scent, and suddenly felt dizzy. His sense always took flight when they were in close proximity, and her smell was overpowering.

'How is Yuna?'

'She is with Tidus. Kimahri is watching over them.'

'Yuna is strong. I know she will continue her journey to Zanarkand, regardless of recent events.'

'I know.'

'Are you pleased?'

'Perhaps.'

They spoke no more. Auron loved her voice. Though her words held little tone, a husky tenor, they hid limitless depth. He secretly wished they spoke more often, so that he could drown in its melodious sound.

'You're thinking again.'

'What would you do after Yuna's pilgrimage?'

His question startled the both of them, neither prepared for the answer. He did not know how the sorceress would cope with another loss, or if she would cope at all. He waited patiently, watching the slight furrow in her brow as she chose her words carefully. She was always careful.

'I do not know. Perhaps, I will return to Besaid.'

He expected her to return the question out of politeness. When she made no such gesture, he pursued the topic, out of amusement, as well as anticipation.

'You do not wish to know about me?'

'I already do.'

Auron raised his eyes from the ground to meet her blazing eyes. So she knew. He expected no less from such an intelligent woman.

'So you know.'

'Yes.'

There were so many words, yet so few. Falling back into the comfortable silence, they held yet another conversation with their eyes, this time a passionate battle between the difficult questions and the difficult answers neither wished to voice. Sometimes, there is no need for words to express emotion, Auron mused. Raising the corners of his mouth ever so slightly in a gesture of tender affection, the Black Mage returned his guarded smile with one of her own, and for a moment, time seemed to have melted away without the help of her sorcery.

'Do not miss the dead. They exist only in memories and pyreflies, no more.'

'And yet, you are more than that.'

'Only because I must be.'

'And not because you want to be?'

Again. He could not hide himself from her at all. She pierced his heart in more ways than one, through her unflinching honesty with him. He decided he would reciprocate.

'That, too, may be a reason.'

He stared at her in noiseless desperation, a plea for her to read his mind without him having to shed all his armour. To save him from what he could not accept, because sometimes the feeling was too strong, and he felt himself crumbling under its weight. She did not blink; instead, she lifted her hand in a careless gesture to stroke his cheek, setting every nerve in his body ablaze.

'Lulu.'

She did not move, but let her hand linger across his face, and he could tell she was thinking yet again. Another pregnant pause, and he hoped she would not move away.

'Say my name again.'

'Lulu.'

'Auron.'

Slowly, and without shifting his gaze, Auron took off his glove, found himself lifting his own hand and firmly grasped the hand on his cheek, marvelling at the sorceress' milky smooth skin. She felt so fragile under his own callous scars. In that moment, where words no longer existed and nothing else mattered, he realised in his understanding of this godly woman, that he had overlooked a simple detail. A simple detail enough to crush the both of them, to shatter them into a million pieces for the others to pick up after. A twitch in his jaw tipped the Black Mage off, and she smiled at him for the second time that night, in playful mocking this time.

'So you know.'

When he closed the distance between them, Auron knew it would be different this time. Times before, when they had spent their nights together, bodies dancing feverishly against each other in a crazed effort to absorb every possible feeling they could from each other's company, it was because of their desire to connect to another human being. To place trust in someone who understood them completely. Little did he realise that he had connected to her wholly in a different way, not one he had anticipated. He knew he was playing with fire, but realised far too late that he had already been burnt, when he had caught sight of the sorceress in a vulnerable moment. After yet another night of lovemaking, she had shaken her hair out of those braids, and was carelessly running her fingers through her long, dark mane. He had pretended to be asleep, but watched as her fingers gently retraced their steps through her hair. And all the while, it was not words that spoke to him, but her expression, for she had been staring at him through the reflection in the mirror, and though he could not read it, a first in his book, he thoroughly read his own emotions. She had utterly captured him, and he found himself no longer a guardian solely to Yuna.

As Lulu began to deftly remove his clothing as well as unbuckle her numerous belts, he felt the familiar stab of guilt that has yet to leave his mind. He did not want to hurt her, and now that he was aware that she knew what was to become of him, he wanted every second to count. He no longer wanted to rest and end his suffering; quite the contrary, he desired more to suffer, but only if it meant he was able to be with her. Alive. Must I always endure such bitterness, he thought furiously. Upon looking at her calm, flawless face, however, he realised that she was worth it, and that when the time came, he would not be able to leave her. Unlike before, their kisses tonight were sweet with a certain degree of patience, something uncharacteristic even between them when it came to lovemaking. He loved how unreserved she was, with her cries whilst in the throes of passion, the way she grit her teeth and clawed at his skin, the way she gripped him when she climaxed. It was something the others would never have dreamed of her. Tonight, she completely let herself go, and Auron found himself yet again along for the ride, with her in total control. He was always gentle, and she was always sensitive to his touch. When finally he stopped teasing and touched her between her thighs, his handiwork was proudly waiting for him, soft and dripping, and he stifled a moan. He knew she loved him looking at her all the way through, and he loved to look. Never once did he break eye contact, and it only spurred her on. Tonight, he decided, it would be all about her. About us.

'Auron..'

He took his time with slow, deliberate strokes, all the time watching. She never closed her eyes, and he saw in them such a passionate fire that it took immense self-control not to simply ravish her. The low mewls that he drew from her with each thrust of his hips, as she met him with her own, were driving him mad. He drew his tongue across her collarbone, tasting salty skin, and she dug her nails into his chest. In response, he bit down firmly on her, and when he released his mouth, he saw out of the corner of his eye that he had branded her skin. They both loved the pain, because they knew what pleasure came with it.

'Lulu..'

He knew she loved hearing her name from his lips, and he felt a pool of liquid rush from within her, and he steadied himself as the air around them grew hotter. If she sets us both on fire now, I would not care, Auron decided as he continued to drive himself deep within her. It is the kind of passion that could burn Spira to the ground. She fitted perfectly around him, and it always felt like he was sinking home. She had spread her legs wide for him, ankles locked around his lower back, and he felt protected, always safe. And as she clamped down hard upon him, arching her back as her cry broke the magical silence of Macalania woods, he realised this was a different kind of magic, one that did not require spells or prayers. Auron joined Lulu with his own release, crashing his lips onto hers, and as their heartbeats slowed and their lustful passion ebbed away, satisfied, Auron noticed they were surrounded by stillness yet again, and he felt at peace. There was no need for words between them. This he knew, but sometimes, he thought as he smiled to himself slightly, they mean more than everything and nothing. And as he spoke the three irrevocable words that he knew she returned in heart, the mutual understanding between them was replaced by something far more precious. Perhaps a little of my youthful abandon remained, he thought, and chuckled to himself as he held his Black Mage near, her eyes closed, breathing in her hair as he rested his head against her neck. The others can take care of themselves for one night, he thought, as he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.