Everything is grey after the war ends. Everything turned grey from the moment that thing sank its teeth in. Except for those scars. The scars are a bright, bright red, burning on her skin. But everything else is grey, like all the colour's been sucked from the world.
It's not supposed to be like this, she thinks. They won. This is the part of the fairytale where everyone lives happily ever after, not the end of a story where the heroes are dead and she's left the Big Bad Wolf. It wasn't how she ever imagined things would turn out for her – where are the gallant princes and the beauty of the world that were there just a few years ago? Where was the life she could have had?
He's not like the gallant prince she imagined, but by the time she realises just how much they need each other, she's realised that things don't always happen quite the way she'd planned. He's scarred too, and badly, but that's OK, because she doesn't need saving any more. The tales he tells her are different than the ones she was brought up knowing – not about the Big Bad Wolf or Babbity Rabbity, but about mortals who visit strange lands and giants who walk across the sea. He mumbles them to her when they lie tangled up in grey sheets, and she laughs, telling him he's rubbish at pillow talk.
That's all right, he says. As long as she's laughing.
He brings her a mug of tea on the morning of the fifth anniversary of the end of the war. The sky overhead is churning and dull. It feels like it's going to rain later, and though they won, she can't help but remember everything they lost. But he kisses her on the cheek and she can feel his solid warmth beside her. He's there, and maybe that's enough.
And in time, the whole world starts to look a lot less grey.
Dedicated to Emma (AStitchedUpHeart)! :) Also for the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp with the prompt 'pillow talk'.
