From Enemies to Lovers
When he was her enemy, his was the face of the nameless raiders who destroyed her family, her life, the heartless murderer who stole her mother, the genocidal rulers before him. She questioned not the origin of the twisted flesh marring the left side of his face. When he was her enemy, his was the voice drowning out the thousand cries of fallen soldiers, his was the voice of his ruthless father– a sly, arrogant tongue and grating aggression of a violent nature, bearing nothing but bleeding lies. She questioned not the fracture of uncertainty that snaked through his occasional monologue.
When she was the enemy, hers was the face blending into the other twenty natives standing between him and his ticket home, a flagrant contrast to his prior thirteen years of surrounding company, just another obstacle. He questioned not the justified hatred in her turbulent cerulean glare. When she was the enemy, hers was the voice of insurgent ignorance, of naïve defiance. He questioned not the hopeful surge in her tenacious words or the fierce dedication. He knew without a doubt that she would be a problem.
When they found themselves in an emerald cage, far from the world that set them on opposing paths, their vision focused. His was no longer the face of the oppressor. Hers was no longer the face of the oppressed. Rage makes people blind, but so does love. His admittance of loss to the same war he was supposed to reside on the winning side of shifted her perspective. His was no longer the voice of an arrogant prince. Hers was no longer the voice of the selfless protector of the avatar, the wall between him and his honor. Her eyes were kind and maybe time had softened them, as he surveyed their past, more combative encounters. His eyes were vulnerable and insecure– a prince, sure, but still only a few years older than her. The place where they were supposed to be imprisoned had freed them of all prejudicial delusions, at least until the present came crashing through the walls, disrupting the fantasy of second chances and compassion.
Their faces and voices once again warped into the masks molded by circumstances and the sins of the past. This war was neither of their fault and yet, it fell to them to take part in it. She was not allowed to consider the inner turmoil contorting his features as he turned against her with a blind animalistic rage. The familiar comfort of malice against him and all he represented was all that drove her forward. She gave no other thought to the bud of sympathy growing in her chest. There was no time for second thoughts or second chances, lest her life or the life of the avatar pay the price.
Here it was, everything he strove for; every ambition was now rewarded. However, he mistook his desire for home for his desire for the past. Home now was void of everything he loved most at the cost of someone's life, the world's last hope, and the confidence of those he trusted and those who trusted him. Were the cold, distant glances worth it? The years away plastered an illusory veneer over the place he was banished from. He left, stripped of his title and pride. He returned, eyes open, heart unsettled. He had seen the world. He had seen her. She who fought with just as much, if not more, conviction as he did.
She was left in pieces. A vial, toxic pain found a home in her heart. She presented her frail innocence to him and he threw it at her feet, more damaged than before. The hatred was personal now. It was the first time she looked, really looked at his face and saw a damaged boy. She was looking in the mirror. More than anything she wasn't hurt because he had spat in her face, she was hurt because she had let him. She allowed him close enough to sneak into her heart and lay her biases by the river. In the end, she was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of hating, tired of keeping her defenses fortified. Her light faded, and she threw herself into saving the world, saving others, all to avoid having to save herself.
When they met again on the same side of the battle, she was unrecognizable. He could see the scarlet bleeding wounds– new wounds he inflicted and old wounds he reopened. The guilt gnawed on him when he saw her anger that closely guarded an aching heart. Her hostile remarks protected her tear-filled questions of Why? She was in a constant battle between desperate desires for explanation and the fear of being hurt again. She never dwelled too long on the thought of him, lest she be lost in the conflictions of who she convinced herself he was and the boy that pleaded on his knees for forgiveness.
It sickened him to know that he caused her to shut down; and, in the late hours of the night in his secret musings the yearning to see her pure face and kind eyes again grew. To give to the girl who had always been taken from soon became his sole focus, digging its roots deep into his passionate devotion. He didn't expect her forgiveness, nor her respect. He only wished for her acknowledgement and the restoration of the face she showed him beneath the glowing jade light. He wanted to heal her, the way she offered to heal him.
Again, she saw the same vengeful agony reflected in his expression. She tried hard to ignore the earnestness in his eyes, the sincerity in his proposition, the perseverance in his step. She would use him and then discard him, nothing more. However, it proved difficult to display a mask of unwavering strength, when chasing the moment when she felt the weakest. He said nothing, did nothing to pressure her further than what she wanted. He trusted that she knew what she needed, despite the visible strife in her expression. He resigned himself to simply be there for her, for anything she wished.
After she conquered her demons, they no longer plagued her sight. They no longer placed the sins of an entire nation on one boy's shoulders. And finally, she saw and heard him with clarity. She would often find herself smiling at the prince's struggle to socialize or his embarrassing inability to tell a decent joke. She had known him for a long time, but the prince who marched onto the shore, willing to commit any atrocity to achieve his goals was vastly different than the boy whose loyalty and principles were now fierce and unwavering. His spirit no longer stirred with the tumultuous waves of chaos and neither did hers. And in that, they began to understand each other a little more, entering a state of steady serenity.
As the lightning streaked through the sky and his body crumpled to the ground, it felt as if her soul was being ripped from her flesh. She buried the panic and tore her eyes away from his broken body, the scent of burning flesh stuffing her nose. She let the adrenaline focus her on the challenge in front of her and overcome it with a masterful expertise that surprised even her. Fractured prayers spilled from her lips, as she rushed to his side. Right then, at that moment, she wanted, needed,to be everything. Right then, at that moment, nothing but him meant anything. And when his eyes opened and his lips murmured a weak thank you, they were, at that moment, everything.