monarchy maid
disclaimer: trc is not mine.
Her eyes are shut.
And it's only a glance, only that.
But already he wonders what colour they are, and if they will reflect a spectrum of unfathomable depth that will cure of him of this curse.
Both breathe on, and his hand flitters to the hidden feather and he squeezes it absentmindedly.
(This is a job he must do. If he sticks to that, it will not be hard.)
Her eyes are green.
Startlingly so, even if they are heavily laden drowsy confusion and empty sadness, surprising him from afar; but her view of him is being obscured by another. Simplicity interlocks within black lashes, and though her mouth moves, the colour of rosebuds, asking questions that she cares not for.
This is Sakura-hime.
(But Sakura-chan is already forming in his mouth.)
And she is oblivious to everything; unaware of the hurt that flashes across Syaoran-kun's face, almost overwhelming the boy, but not quite.
It's that moment in which he decides to intervene, swooping in to save the poor boy from further agony, his hand resting on his shoulder for comfort. Sakura-hime is awake and animated, cheeks flushed in luminous innocence. He offers a bright smile and an introduction, eager to charm and eager to please and eager to her return a smile, however small, on that pretty face.
Her laughter comes all too easily, making the beat of his heart race, and something turns real. But Syaoran-kun is in another room, and Fai swallows down his worries with a gentle tap on the tip of her nose.
Standing up, beginning to walk away, he stops by the door frame, merely watching her move through grace.
(He likes her already, and though that's not a problem right now, it soon might be.)
The damage is done, and he can't undo that, and with a little bit of wistfulness, it starts to rain.
Her eyes are myrtle.
Darkened by her sorrow, the inability to further aid her companions. Even so, resolution shines like a star, a spark of hope that dazzles him. This new world promises a new start, and Fai is left to muse on how many promises, out of the many he makes, can he keep.
Yet still, there is light. Sakura-chan may be lost and clumsy, but with every step she takes, royalty breathes and grows, despite the mundane tasks that they do to survive, though that's not to say their job in Cat's Eye isn't enjoyable.
(There's another thing she'll never know: one upon a time, in another life, they were both monarchs.)
And every step she takes, the princess of the desert regains vigour, shown through her hard work.
… too hard work, it seems, as Sakura-chan pushes herself beyond her limits, and faints with a broken plate and soap suds seeping inside their skin.
Right now, it's a far-off echo, but one day, Sakura-chan will be queen.
And Fai wonders, as he carries to the sofa, what sort of country would she rule, and how.
Regardless of his past, he is certain that Sakura-chan will be nothing but kind, her compassion overflowing from the gentle twinkle in her eyes.
He doesn't know how long he stays there, but when he reaches out to brush a lock of hair, and touch her skin; Fai knows that it's time to go.
(It'll be worse for later, if he stays just for the sake of her smile.)
Her eyes are viridian.
Twice, Fai believes her eyes to be this colour, not quite forest green; and both times does pain ripple through them, imprinted forever on his memory of fractured grins.
First, when Sakura-chan falls into his waiting arms, and he catches her so naturally that's he's hardly aware that's happened until she looks and stares right through him, whispering, murmuring so many apologies (and every single one clings tighter to his heart); it's all he can do to hold on. The acidic rain fall and falls, but its nothing compared the depth of her kindness.
Everything is made of poison here, including him, and yet he can not let go.
(And if she asks, still, he could not; regardless of her being his only princess, and persevering to do everything she wished.)
(He'd grant her miracles and change to butterflies that dissolved into her skin, if Sakura-chan wanted.)
(He knows too much, he knows not enough, and still, it doesn't stop his throat from being too thick and scarcely able to breathe.)
The second is when blood drips through his slender hands, and he wishes to rewind time so badly; beyond the chaste act of kissing her hand and the loss of one eye, beyond their separation and the baking of cakes. He wishes that she'd never opened her eyes and instead of joining them, he'd fled instead. And Fai is so very used to running from everything that matters.
(And he doesn't mean that, because his affection—his attachment has anchored his loyalty to her.)
Her eyes are deeper than viridian, and Fai can see right through her, through the blur of tears and the breaking of hearts; so minutely conscious of every emotion, every feeling, movement and hasty breaths that scream in volume past the ensuing silence.
Trembling, she holds him tight and all she's still saying sorry, but it's more than that, and Fai just can't understand. She says it's all right, I forgive you, I love you and those words are tearing him apart because Sakura-chan is still leaving without him.
(He wants to say—wants to say—you're still my princess, my only princess—except that's not it at all, and he can't say it back.)
So she smiles sadly, and it's a reflection of how he used smile; small and secretive, and amidst the tears, his skin craves for more contact, and he lets her go, wordlessly, unable to even say goodbye.
And the hope that she gives him is extinguished like his bloodstained memory.
(He's always been good at crushing his own heart, after all. Somehow, the lies he's told have become real. Doesn't know when it happened, and doesn't care; they exist, and he feels more than he lets on. But he'll still never say a word.)
What is left is nothing more than two shells.
Not even that remains, disappearing like sunlight covered by night.
Her eyes are shut.
Forever more, maybe. If they're too late…
Fai stands alone, inscribing more incantations in the air, colder than he's ever felt. Magic fails him, and as he stands in a country, a world even, which collapses on itself, a thought occurs.
This is no longer his country that he serves.
From one royal to another, his allegiance has changed.
To Sakura-chan.
He's said it before, but now he understands.
She's become the princess of his heart; and perhaps it started at the beginning, when a green spectrum became like a kaleidoscope and was unveiled to him, or when her smile mended the bluest sky, Fai knows that he will serve only her.
He surrendered the second she dazzled him with her sincerity.
His queen.
Her magician.
(Already he is counting the days until she wakes up once more.)
Her eyes are jade.
Rich and royal, and not one but two. One resides within another, and Fai wonders if her heart beats like before.
And yet it doesn't change his love for her.
Even if she loves another. (The way it's supposed to be.)
Donning a cheerful beam, he teases them, as once again, adventure calls; hands lingering (long, but not too long, and he doesn't want them to suspect) before he abruptly changes the mood.
(Maybe she suspects, maybe she knows, but Fai doesn't dare find out.)
And he wonders what to call her now.
Her eyes are emerald.
(The colour they've always been, but he refused to see.)
A glimpse through the looking glass, before his lips meet hers and his resistance cannot endure any more.
(He remained because he was injured, and here he would heal, while the others continued to travel. He didn't expect her to personally take care of him, so humble, and wise beyond her years, that this sadness binds them, forcing him to wipe away those invisible tears, and soothe her fears. It's substitution, but that's okay. Him and her; sun and rain; they've been like this before, and now it won't change.)
But she looks up, and he knows her for what she is, rendered utterly speechless.
Sees the variation and scattering of shades of green, and wonders why he tried so hard to differentiate the shade of pristine orbs, when he already knows the spectrum of her heart. She murmurs his name and his grip steadies (still shaking, always shaking) and both of them act—dipping and rising and it's unspoken but both of them know.
Lips mesh, and both of them cling to this fleeting moment (because that's all it can be, ephemeral, diminutive, gone) before they part and smile sad smiles, just like before, at the beginning, middle and end; and both of these monarchs are servants to their emotions. And though it can be hidden from the world, it will still be there, binding them for eternity (just as they always were).
Foreheads still touch, and there they remain, simply existing, whole again.
(One moment comes with a price.)
Just before Syaoran-kun returns with news that will change everything once more.
(And Fai wonders if that will be enough.)