Summary: A girl named Elizabeth meets a blond stranger. Again. A new twist (I hope) on an old story.
A/N: Welcome to this oneshot! This is a modern AU... well, a twist on a modern AU. It's set in modern times, anyway. It's up to you to decide if it's an AU or not.
I need to publish this quickly before woundedowl finds me (looks around nervously... whew coast is clear) but before I do I must thank fandomtrashpanda for being so very kind as to read this through and share her thoughts. And as always I must thank the talented Vetur02 for allowing me to use her artwork for this story.
This one I wrote quickly, in a burst of insanity as I neglected more important things. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading.
"You're one of the charmed ones," her father would tell her.
"The fairies must like you," her mother would say.
And it was true, she had always felt like there was… something. Something watching her, something waiting. Maybe a someone? She could never be sure, except that she was never really alone.
When she was five, she had gotten separated from her mother in the department store. There was a funny kid making faces at her as her mother looked through racks of coats, and she had stepped around one after another to watch the little boy. Then he left with his own mother, and she realized that hers was no longer in sight.
She had been to this store many times before, but she found herself seized with fear, too paralyzed to move or speak. But then a firm hand took hers and pulled her through the racks, around the shoe display, past menswear, until she saw the familiar brown bob talking frantically to a security guard.
"Mom!" she had shouted, running forward, and by the time she remembered about the hand she was home with a cookie and milk.
When she was eleven, an older kid had stolen her backpack. Her house key and a few dollars were inside, and she was panicked about what to do. She chased him, but he was quicker, disappearing over a neighbor's fence with a whoop and a few curses. With tears of frustration she hurried home, praying that one of her parents would be there.
It had even started to rain, and she said a few choice words herself; something she had heard on television; something she knew would probably get her grounded. She had been muttering so angrily to herself that she did not see her backpack waiting for her on the top step, sitting right in front of the door, nearly tripping right over it.
There were little things, too.
Needing a few dollars for a tank of gas until she got paid tomorrow, and finding a twenty dollar bill on the ground next to her car; forgetting her shin guards for soccer, which meant she would be benched again, only to discover them in the front compartment of her bag; a doll returned that had been missing; a flyer on her windshield (and no one else's) for a band she liked playing that weekend; something in the road holding up the school bus an extra few minutes and allowing her to make it just in time.
When she was little, she thought it was her fairy godmother. She would pray for all sorts of things, like for mom to make brownies for dinner or for a freak snowstorm to cancel school in April when she forgot her math homework. Later she called it her guardian angel. When she was older, she didn't know what it was exactly, and thought that it was luck, or the universe. So she tried to do good in return, and be kind and generous and helpful, as a way to say thank you.
"Hey, Elizabeth, look."
She was rinsing out containers, so when Erin hissed her name, she didn't pay attention until an elbow poked her arm. Turning off the water, she shook her hands over the sink and looked over her shoulder.
"What is it?"
"That guy is back again." Erin had her arms folded, her eyes narrowed as she stared straight ahead.
"What guy?" she asked. Erin tilted her head down to indicate the blonde sitting on the other side of the shop. She turned and followed her gaze to the messy head of hair, his back turned towards them, a book in one hand.
"What's wrong with him?" She asked with a frown.
"He's always in here. He sits all day and barely leaves a tip," Erin huffed, blowing her bangs from her forehead. "Haven't you ever noticed?"
"Not really." She peered down at her friend out the corner of her eye. "Do you want me to take his table?"
"Do you mind? I'm just gonna be nasty to him."
Laughing, she dried her hands on a towel. "No problem. You do the counter for a minute."
They switched places easily, and she grabbed a notepad on her way around the counter.
"Can I get you something?" she asked, looking down through her long bangs.
The green eyes that looked back at her in surprise startled her. His face was so youthful, she would guess he was maybe eighteen—maybe—but his eyes… She shivered slightly and cleared her throat. "Do you…?" What was she asking?
"I'll take a coffee, extra sugar." She blinked, nodding, still staring at those eyes.
Suddenly her mind was filled with a story about them: a hero with a past, searching for something through lifetimes, and with a little huff she began to frantically jot down ideas and bits of dialogue that floated by her consciousness.
A minute later her pad was filled with words and she gave a shaking laugh. It was a classic story, for sure, but there was something special about this one. It was going to be perfect for her writing class. With a grin she looked up to find those green eyes still on her.
"That was a lot of writing for a coffee extra sweet!" He laughed.
"Oh! Sorry!" she stammered, her breath rushing out nervously. "I'll get it for you, I'll be right back!" Her breath came out as a shaky chuckle, and she quickly ran behind the counter before she could humiliate herself any more.
A glance at the clock told her it was way too late to be up, the room dark except for the glow of her laptop. She stretched her back a bit, sighing in satisfaction at the progress she had made. It was one of those writing sessions where the words simply flowed, and she was excited to have done so much, even as she stifled a yawn. She had class in five hours… now the question was to go to bed, or just stay up?
Bed, she decided, quickly turning off the light and pulling the covers up. Yet while bed was easy, sleep was not, and she found herself staring into the darkness, thinking about the story she was writing. It was not her usual fare at all: heroes and bad guys and a beautiful girl who made it all worth it.
She preferred writing about real things, things that really had happened to her, things a reader could relate to. But her professor had been on her case about expanding her writing, so she supposed that a fantasy would be in the right direction.
She laughed to herself as she started to relax. Fantasy novels were not something she had ever been able to get into. It all seemed so silly, too escapist for her taste. She wanted her writing to be meaningful. She wanted to be meaningful.
But before she drifted off to sleep, she remembered that she had had a bit of fantasy in her life, hadn't she? Her guardian angel or fairy godmother or super secret universe friend had always come through. So before she finally closed her eyes, she made the first wish in a very long time: please don't let me be late tomorrow.
She was late, very late.
She had been late for class, late for study group, late for the next class, and now running into the coffee shop ten minutes late for her shift.
"Sorry, sorry," she muttered, quickly tying on an apron and stashing her purse. "This rain—"
"Yeah yeah," Erin interrupted, waving off the excuse. "I don't think John even noticed. But you got a customer."
She had been pulling out supplies to restock the counter, but quickly looked up to follow her friend's gaze. The familiar blond hair was back, even still reading a book. "Are you serious?" she sighed.
Erin gave her a pointed look. "I told you, he tips like shit. Plus I always feel like he's staring at my chest."
"Oh, but he can stare at mine?" she laughed with a roll of her eyes. But Erin was not backing down, so with a sigh she went over to take the order.
Usually the shop was busy in the rain as people ducked inside to dry off and get warm, but the only customers were the blond and his companion at the table. Her brow went up a bit as she approached, the new guy looking half dead as he leaned back asleep in his chair, his hair a weird blue and spiked all over.
"He's fine," the blond said in response to her unanswered question, putting his book down. "He's just tired."
"Oh! Uh…" She glanced over again. "If you say so. What can I get you?"
"Coffee, extra sugar," he answered with a grin.
She tapped her pen on the notebook. "I should have remembered that. I'll be right back."
Carefully she carried the order over and laid it down on the table. With a blush she glanced down to see he was discreetly looking at her chest while she was bent over, but she supposed she couldn't exactly fault him for that. "Anything else?"
"How about your name?" he asked. He flashed her a beautiful smile that instantly made her happy, but she simply laughed and tucked her hair behind her left ear.
"I don't think so."
"How about I try to guess it then?" he replied, his smile widening a bit.
"Guess my name?" she laughed, and then was startled when his sleeping companion muttered, "Cap, what are ya doin?"
"Just talking to…" He looked up and pursed his lips. "Margaret?"
She laughed. "Nope, not even close."
He was back for her next shift, and then the next, and the next. Erin told her he didn't usually come in unless she was working, always showing up about a half hour before she was due in. It was odd, certainly, but nothing to be alarmed about, she told herself.
Each shift was another coffee with extra sugar, and another guess at her name.
"Sarah?"
"No."
"Theresa?"
"Nope."
"Catalina?"
That one made her laugh. "Like the salad dressing?" she asked as she placed the cup down.
He shrugged. "People name their kids weird things."
"It's not Catalina."
As she walked away, he called after her, "What am I gonna get when I guess it right?"
A few other customers looked up, and she blushed. She walked back over and folded her arms. "You'll have my name," she said.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"Huh." He turned away from her then, blowing on the coffee before bringing it to his lips. She watched him for a moment before heading back behind the counter.
Erin was off, so she was working with Lisa that day. "I think he likes you," she laughed.
"What?"
"Him." Lisa nodded over towards the blond. "You should tell him your name."
She shook her head. "Not interested."
She let go a deep breath and looked up expectantly. Most of her classmates were smiling back, a few even nodding. She bit her lip as her chest swelled a bit. The chapter she had just read aloud to the class seemed to have gone over well.
With heat rising on her cheeks, she looked nervously at her professor, who was sitting on the side at his desk. Several excruciating moments of silence went by before he finally cleared his throat. "Well, Elizabeth," he said, "that was certainly a departure from your normal writing."
Nodding, she answered, "Yes, I… I wanted to do something—something different? And I had this idea and—"
"It's rather disappointing," he interrupted. "Usually your writing is so personal, so real. This is… well, I could pick this book up on any rack in any drugstore, honestly."
The heat on her cheeks flared to an actual fire under her skin. She tried to choke out a response, but the professor went on, "The concept is fine, but the characters? The plot? It's just one trope after another."
Still no words came out, her heart positively at her knees. He waved her to sit down. "Go back and do some rereading, I'm sure you'll see what I mean. You should go back to making your writing more personal, instead of—whatever this was."
She nodded and hurried to her seat, refusing to look at anyone, unable to even listen to the next student who stood and read aloud. Her ears burned and her throat burned, and when they were finally dismissed she practically ran from the room. She headed towards the coffee shop, an hour early for her shift, but needing something to do to escape the words that raced furiously through her mind.
Erin started to ask but she just shook her head in answer. Quickly she began washing containers, refilling napkin holders, wiping tables, anything to keep her moving and focused and stop the heat from rising behind her eyes. A half hour later, she was cleaning out one of the coffee decanters when Erin slid up next to her. "Not sure if this is a good time," she said, "but blondie just walked in. Do you want me to—"
"No, it's fine," she said curtly. She replaced the filter and filled it with coffee grounds, and once the water started heating she grabbed her pad and headed to the table.
It wasn't just blondie this time, but his blue-haired friend was back too. They looked so comical together that if it had been any other day, she might have teased him a bit. Today, however, she simply said, "Do you want the same?"
"Yeah, thanks… Catherine?" he smiled.
She heaved a sigh and looked at his friend. "Do you want something too?"
Before he could answer, the blond exclaimed, "Is it Catherine? Did I get it right?"
"No," she snapped, not bothering to look, gritting her teeth in aggravation. "Do you want something?"
He did not answer, just snorted and leaned over the table. "Why are ya torturing her? Just say your peace."
"I'm not torturing her," he answered. "Am I, Evelyn?"
With a huff she turned and stormed away. She was nearly shaking as she filled two cups of coffee, dumping the sugar in them haphazardly. "Are they bothering you?" Erin asked when she spied her frustration.
"No, no, it's not—it's just this day, it's—" She heaved a breath, mortified to feel the humiliation return with a vengeance, the hot sting reaching from her throat to the corner of her eyes. "Can you take these over? Do you mind? I just need to—"
"Yeah, no problem," said Erin, concern plain in her voice.
She walked through the shop and went out the back door. The cool air felt good on her burning skin, despite how chilly it was outside in mid-autumn. Slowly she breathed in and out, trying to calm her nerves, blinking rapidly to will away the tears. After a minute she realized how futile it was going to be, and decided to just give herself over to sobbing.
But before she could do that, a now-familiar voice said, "You okay?" She jumped a mile and whirled on the blond, furiously wiping at her damp cheeks.
"What is your problem?" she exclaimed.
"Nothing, sorry," he answered, holding up his palms. "I thought you looked upset and I wanted to see if you were okay."
"Well I'm not okay, but thanks for pointing that out," she snapped. She folded her arms and looked at him furiously. "What do you want?"
He shrugged. "Nothing really. Want to tell me about it?"
Giving a harsh laugh, she shook her head. "Not really."
"Is it me?"
She looked at him strangely and shook her head. "No, it's—my writing class." She heaved a sigh and looked up, watching a dark cloud roll by. "I had to read something I wrote today and my professor—let's just say he wasn't impressed."
"So you're a writer?"
She looked over, shrugging one shoulder. "I guess. Trying to be."
"Huh." Their eyes met again, and she remembered seeing them for the first time, and that's how the whole thing even got started. She blinked in confusion, thrown by the irony of the situation; and even now, as she stared into the green eyes, she could remember the thrill of that moment, the way the ideas had taken root inside of her. She thought of saying something, of asking him about it, but before she could he said, "I'm sure it'll work out, Elizabeth. I can't imagine you failing at anything."
"How do you—" Suddenly she huffed out a laugh, narrowing her eyes a bit. "You guessed it right." He frowned and she went on, "My name. It's Elizabeth."
"Is it?" His face lit up with the grin she knew, and she could not help her smile in return. "It's about time."
Night after night, the words came fast and furiously, the story weaving through her fingers to create a world full of demons and fairies and knights. There was a brave princess, and a mysterious stranger with green eyes. They journeyed together, trying to save the kingdom, trying to save their people, trying not to fall in love. It was nearing the end of the story, and as the pages flew by she began to get anxious. There needed to be a sacrifice, she could tell, she could see it as plain as day. But who? The knight, or the princess? Or both?
She handed in the next six chapters to be graded, and when they were returned the following week, her professor asked her to stay behind after class.
"I just don't understand why you are pursuing this," he scolded her when she came up to his desk. "I told you the last time that you needed to stay away from this type of writing. You need to do something personal."
"But this is personal," she insisted. "I am feeling every word of this. I know it's not… it's not what I usually do, but—"
"I can see the influences clearly," interrupted her teacher. "You are rewriting Arthurian legend, correct?"
She frowned, shaking her head slightly. "I don't believe so. I don't really know much about that topic?"
"Let me guess," he huffed. "You identify with this—this princess, am I correct?" She swallowed and gave a little nod, blushing when he rolled his eyes. "That's even worse. A good writer never uses a self-insert character. It's just bad writing."
Breathing deeply she replied, "I understand. I promise, I will have this up to your standards by the final. I swear."
"This is half your grade, Elizabeth," he warned. "It better be."
Her mind was preoccupied during her next class, barely able to concentrate as she thought of green eyes and flashing armor and wings of white and black. It bothered her that her professor didn't seem to want to look beyond her work to see what was behind it. She needed to find a way to connect with the reader. Something was missing if he wasn't feeling it too.
When she got to the shop, she gave Lisa a wave and went straight to the blond's table. It had been a couple of weeks since he learned her name, and he liked to use it a lot. "Yo, Elizabeth," he grinned as she came over. "I was wondering where you are."
She just chuckled and looked at his spiky-haired friend, back for his third appearance. "Do you want a coffee too?" she asked.
"Don't you have anything stronger?" he grumbled, and when she answered no, he sighed, "Fine, coffee. Black."
When she brought the drinks, the blond smiled, "You know, Elizabeth, you haven't tried to guess my name."
"You're right, I haven't," she answered slyly, carefully setting the cup down in front of them.
The friend let loose a loud laugh, but he simply pouted. "Does that mean you don't want to know? I thought we were friends."
"Maybe if you tipped better," she joked, and was rewarded with a bigger laugh and a bigger pout.
"For that, you should let me take you out," he said.
She blinked in surprise, laughing herself. "Sorry, I don't date high schoolers."
"I'm not in high school!" he cried, his voice filled with fake outrage, his friend now laughing so hard he fell backwards out of the chair.
"What are you reading?" she asked one day. The weather had turned suddenly cold as winter was approaching, and the shop was a bit crowded. "You've been reading the same book for weeks."
"It's garbage, really," he answered. "Something I found on a rack somewhere."
She laughed. "What's it about?"
"You know: knights, dragons, a damsel in distress." Her eyebrows shot up and he grinned. "Like I said, garbage."
"You're not a fan of fantasy?" she asked. She plucked the book from his hand, careful to hold his place. Turning it over, she looked at the back, but curiously there was no summary. On the front cover was a painting of dark mountains, and a flashing sword stuck into the ground. The Sword in the Mountain, by J. James, it read.
"Love it, actually," he replied. She looked down at his smile. "I like the escapism. I find it easy to connect to."
She nodded, but before she could say anything else Erin called her name. Hurrying back behind the counter, she helped with a rush of customers, and it was nearly a half hour later before she realized she never brought the blond his coffee. Quickly she filled a cup from a fresh pot and added extra sugar, carrying it over to him with an apology. "It's okay," he answered. "I saw you were busy. Plus, the story was getting good."
For a moment she hesitated, watching as he took a sip from the cup and returned his gaze to the book. Then, without looking up, he said, "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes." She sat down at the table, the first time in the weeks she had been serving him, and he sat up in surprise. He folded down his page in the book, something that made her absolutely cringe, but instead she went on, "Listen, I've been—oh this is so weird to ask you."
"I'm intrigued," he laughed, leaning forward on his elbows.
"I've been writing a story, for my class," she said. "And I—there is something missing. I don't know, my professor hates it."
To her surprise, his eyes narrowed a bit. "Hates it, huh?"
"Um, yeah," she answered. "I guess—would you be interested in reading it? I really could use some feedback, and you're like a stranger, and it's weird for me to ask, but—"
"Of course I'll read it," he huffed, waving his hand back and forth. "And we're not strangers, you practically know my name."
Dipping her head down to hide a laugh, she said, "I'm off until Saturday, but I'll bring it then, okay?"
"Yeah, for sure," he answered. "I'll be here."
After three days of school, studying, and writing, she was actually ready to get back to work, if for nothing than to just look at something that wasn't a textbook or her laptop. Finals were approaching, and she had exactly two weeks to get her story finished and polished for the final submission. She had spent every spare moment editing, rewriting, adding, anything to make the story seem more real and personal.
The night before she loaded the document onto her tablet and reread it nervously. Every word was meaningful to her, each character carefully crafted, each moment from her heart. If the blond didn't like it, she would have to scrap it and start over, she decided. But she was hoping to hear if he connected at all, was dying to know, actually.
Sitting on her bed in the dark, listening to the wind outside, she thought of the blond with the green eyes. She still didn't know his name, and was suddenly embarrassed for it. She should have asked him ages ago, so what was stopping her?
I just don't want to get involved, she told herself. There was too much going on, with school and work and finals coming up and this stupid writing assignment…
But he was involved, is involved, she had involved him. He was reading her story tomorrow. She needed his feedback for some unexplainable reason. Hell, he had practically given her the story.
She prayed that night for an ending to the story, wondering if the universe was still listening to her.
It snowed overnight, and she was dismayed to see nearly a foot of snow on the ground when she got up for work. The shop was only two blocks from her apartment, but walking through this mess was going to be a nightmare. With plenty of grumbling she got dressed for her shift, bundling up in her warmest clothes and pulling on a pair of boots that she knew would be soaked by the time she made it. No one shoveled when the snow was still falling.
But somehow, someone had shoveled, and her entire path from her front door to the coffee shop was completely passable. Piles of snow were on either side, but not down her block, or the next. Even the curbs to the street were visible and salted for ice. She quickly and easily made her way to work, getting there early despite the still heavily falling snow.
"You made it!" Erin cheered. "I wondered if I would be alone today. John already called and said he's not coming."
She nodded, not surprised. The manager rarely drove in if the weather was bad. "At least we can relax a bit today."
"That's for sure," snorted her friend. "We probably won't have a single customer. Maybe we can just close up and go home."
"Maybe…" She looked out the window, wondering if the blond would arrive. Probably not in this weather, she thought with disappointment.
An hour went by, then another. Not a single customer came in, and she was feeling incredibly antsy, her nerves making her jumpy. Finally as the snow began to let up, the bell on the door jingled and the blond came in, stomping his boots on the mat and pulling off his scarf. "Wow, it is bad out there!"
She laughed in spite of herself, relief flooding through her. Ignoring Erin's strange look, she poured a coffee, extra sweet, and carried it over to where he was laying out his wet things. "Yes!" he exclaimed, taking the steaming cup from her, sighing as he took a long drink.
"I can't believe you really came," she said quietly. "You didn't have to, you know."
"Of course I did," he answered. "I keep my promises."
Not sure how to answer that, she went back behind the counter and made herself a cup. "Erin, do you mind if I—?"
"No, no, go sit with him," she said. "I'm gonna go watch TV in John's office."
Once her friend was gone, she grabbed her bag and walked over to join him at the table. He watched as she took a seat and set down her cup. "Um, would you still want to—"
"Absolutely," he answered. "Hand it over."
With a little laugh she pulled the tablet out, opened the document, and handed it over. "It's not very good, I mean, I've been trying to make it good, but—"
"Shh, I'm reading," he said.
She sipped her coffee, watching him intently, before realizing how silly it was to watch him. So she headed back behind the counter to find something to do, and glanced up at him every once in a while to find him always deep in concentration.
Erin groaned and leaned over the counter. "I wanna clooooooose," she whined.
Sighing, she said, "I know, but he's not done." She glanced up at the blond, still reading, sipping from what had to be his fifth or sixth coffee.
"I wanna go hooooooooome." Standing, Erin dropped her head back in a pout. "It's already dark. It's gonna be cold out. Let's just go."
"But—"
"I'm almost done," he called across the cafe. "Just go ahead, we can close up."
Erin laughed. "You can't close up. You don't even work here."
"Fine," he answered, lifting his eyes for a moment. "Elizabeth will close up. Just let me finish."
"Fine," Erin said back, grabbing her coat and shrugging into the sleeves.
With a gasp, she said, "Wait a second. You're just going to leave?"
Erin slung her purse over her shoulder and pulled her gloves on as she said, "Yeah, everything is done anyway. Just set the alarm and lock the door."
"But—"
Her friend gave a wink and headed out, the bell jingling as she left.
Now that they were alone, she nervously looked across the room. He had gone back to reading, and she fidgeted with her hands as she watched. Finally she wandered over to the window, looking out at the city for several minutes, still covered in snow. With the streetlights it all looked very mysterious, and she wondered if she should grab her notepad and jot some impressions down.
When she turned, he was looking at her, a grin on his face and his hands behind his head. "I'm done."
With a deep breath she nodded and walked over, sitting in a chair next to his. "Okay. Go ahead."
"There's no ending," he said.
She sighed. "I know. I feel… I don't know how to feel. I don't know how to end this." She smiled sheepishly at him. "I want to give them a happy ending, but I just don't know if it's in the cards, you know?"
There was a flicker in his eye, as if his forehead twitched, but she couldn't be sure. He didn't answer, didn't move at all, so she shrugged. "If you have any suggestions I'd love to hear them."
"You believe in magic, don't you?"
She blinked in surprise. "Um, I don't think so?"
"Sure you do. You can tell by the way you write." The corner of his mouth twitched as he nodded towards the tablet on the table. "You've seen magic, haven't you?"
She shook her head. "Oh. You don't believe in the supernatural or anything?"
"No, I don't."
"So nothing at all? Not fairies or witches or ghosts?"
"Of course not."
"So nothing mysterious has ever happened to you? Nothing out of the ordinary?"
"What does—" She paused, thinking. Yes, many mysterious things had happened to her, and she thought about her fairy godmother, the guardian angel. "I think everyone can think of something that happened without explanation," she finally said slowly. "That doesn't mean there is magic."
"Huh." He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "Well, I gotta say, I loved it. Even without the ending."
Her eyes lit up as she gasped, "Really?"
"Really really. I especially liked the green-eyed hero."
He wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her blush. "It's funny, you know…" She looked at him then, the warmth of his smile and the affection in his eyes putting her at ease. "I got the idea for this the day we met."
She expected him to be happy, but instead he jerked back a bit, as if burned. "You did?" he asked with a frown.
Clearing her throat, she answered, "Yes, I—I mean I know it's weird, but I—" She tried to find the words to explain, but all words seemed to escape her. They simply looked at one another for a long moment, until finally she went on, "I never wrote anything like this before. I never felt anything like this before."
It was quiet, the air calm, and not even the city seemed to make any noise outside. His eyes were on her, looking straight through her almost. The atmosphere between them grew thick, and she could see he wanted to say something. Finally he slid closer to her and asked, "What are you feeling, Elizabeth?"
"I don't know," she whispered. She was captured by his look, absolutely pinned by his eyes. "But there is something… something…"
He nodded. "There is something."
"Who are you?" she whispered.
He leaned forward, and her eyes closed as his lips pressed on hers. It was such a simple thing, just flesh against flesh, but she was first struck by how familiar it was: the shape of his mouth, the pressure, the taste. Curiously she tilted her head, kissing him back gently.
Suddenly she could see it all: the ending to her story. The knight and the princess save the day, and they are in love, of course they are, her professor will just love that. But love does not come without sacrifice, and she is gone. She is the offering for their slice of happiness, and he must go on without her.
With a gasp she pulled back, a choking sob rising in her throat when she meets the green eyes again, her lungs too tight. Hot tears stung her eyes as they stared at one another, and then slowly, carefully, he asked, "Elizabeth? Do you know who I am?"
"Yes," Elizabeth breathed, her heart bursting with the words. "You're Meliodas."