She leans against the railing of her balcony. Her hair is long and falls freely down her back. Her upper arms have matching scars that look like the claws of a creature that grabbed her. They are not the only scars she bears. She hears bells as she sighs, staring out at the city as the sun begins to rise.

Her city.

The city she fought for for her people It is marred with it's own scars from a war that seemed so very recent.

The rebellion is being held in your name.

She shivers as a light breeze brushes passed her.

In the distance she can see the spires for the sanctuary she had built to the Fire God.

Her God.

They say that she is the embodiment of the Great Fire Beast; that with a look, she could boil seas and burn forests; that she swallowed fire and was not burned.

She's not sure about that, but there is something wild and untamable within her that sparked the beginning of the end of how things used to be.

She hears light padding of bare feet on marble, and leans into the arms that encircle her waist.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a dark head bow down as he plans a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"Good morning." She smiles.

"Mm," he mumbles back, his voice and body still heavy with sleep, "You're up early,"

She reaches up and places her right hand on the back of his neck, "Couldn't sleep. Eagle still asleep?"

Lantis nods, shifting his head so that his chest rested on her head, "He won't be up before noon."

She giggles lightly and lets the conversation die away.

They stand like that for a few moments, staring out at their city, when he sighs and pulls lightly for her to go back into the room, "C'mon,"

She shakes her head and shrugs him off, "You go on, I want to stay here for a bit longer."

She feels his eyes survey her before he spoke quietly, "What's on your mind?"

She shakes her head, "Nothing. Well, not really. I mean…"

She trails off, leaning back on to the railing. He touches her shoulder, making her stand up straighter, "You can tell me. You don't have to, but–,"

"Tell me our story." She says suddenly, cutting him off.

"What?"

"Tell me our story," she repeats, looking at him over her shoulder. "Tell me how this started. I want to hear how our story should begin."

He studies her for a moment before smirking. He sits up on the railing, letting his legs dangle over the street below them, and begins.

Music was playing when he died.

He remembered that very clearly because it seemed so odd to him.

It wasn't music that she would choose; too dark, too little up tempos and poppy lyrics.

He was confused why everything seemed to be getting dark.

He wanted to be there when she came back.

Soon, he realized that he wasn't going to be there for her ever again.

His last thoughts had been about her.

He had not been surprised.

There was always music playing when it came to her.

She hated silence.

She used to say that humans made too many interesting sounds to even tolerate silence.

He remembered seeing her lying on her bed on one of the rare moments she had to herself, and staring at the various stars, moons, and suns that she had hanging from her ceiling. There was music, faint, playing from the little music player that she had been given as a gift from a delegate, and she was humming along to the song. He couldn't recall why he had wondered to that part of the Palace, or why the cracked door and the faint sound of music had held him captive like it had.

But he did remember that he didn't mind it.

He had stood in her doorway, terrified of crossing into her space and disrupting this…meditation.

He never knew what made his presence known; he'd been so careful to not move he barely breathed, but she rolled her head on her bed to look at him, eyes as bright and blue as the sky out her window, and she smiled.

"You stare at all the girls like that?" she asked, sitting up. Her blonde hair, always kept impossibly long, spread on the bed behind her.

He coughed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–,"

She stood up then, her fingers nimbly dividing her hair into thick strands and beginning to braid it, "Don't go apologizing, Zagato, I tire of people always thinking they've over stepped some sort of line that I don't remember drawing."

As she finished braiding her hair (she always seemed to do it much more quickly than seemed possible, given the sheer amount of hair she had), she opened the doors to her balcony and stepped into the sun, raising her face up to it as if it were the hand of a loved one. She sighed as if she'd been waiting to step into the sun for years and leaned forward slightly, standing in the middle of the balcony.

He wondered if that's what it was to her.

"Would it be proving your point if I apologized?" He asked after her.

She laughed as she leaned on the railing of her balcony, a breeze picking up the strands that she missed, and sun lit up her hair as if it were made of sunlight.

"I suppose that depends on whether or not you want to prove me right," She beamed at him over her shoulder.

He smiled back at her, leaning against her doorframe, still not crossing into her room.

Her eyes softened and her smile became smaller as she looked at him. She tilted her head back, beckoning him, "Come join me, the sun is actually good for you,"

He chuckled but conceded, stepping carefully into her room, ducking to avoid some of the low hanging celestial decorations, "And what, My Lady, is that supposed to mean?"

He was struck by how much he stood out against the pale colors in her room. She had done her room mostly in white and pastels, and he hadn't been aware of how many dark colors he wore until he stood in her room.

She smiled at him again, "It means what I said; the sun is good for you and is actually something that you should let into your life."

He stood next to her as she turned her face back into the breeze that pulled at her hair again. Her bare feet were together, one over the other, as she crossed her arms and leaned on her elbows and observed the garden below. He was struck at how casual her clothing was; she had always seemed to be done up in the most regal of clothing, each piece meticulously designed and chosen to present her as what she was: The Embodiment of a God.

And yet, standing on that balcony with her, she was not the physical manifestation of an old God whose name no one but that only she could pronounce; she was just a young woman, talking to someone she had known all her life.

She was wearing a pair of simple blue jeans and a white knit sweater that looked to be at least one size bigger than it needed to be.

She looked comfortable.

The neck of her sweater was wide and showed the tops of her shoulders, and subsequently the tips of her scars.

They were only partially healed from the last time she had to pray to keep the country together.

He tried not to look at her scars.

He tried not to remember standing by and watching as she bled in the middle of the temple built to pay homage to their God of Creation.

He tried not to think about how she was so weak afterwards that she couldn't stand on her own.

He tried not to think about how this was just a part of what life was for her.

He tried not to think about a six year old little girl being gifted the knowledge of a millennia old God and who had to bleed every time she called forth that gift.

"In order to know what it is to Create, to grant life, she had to know what it is to be Broken, to have her innocence, her life, taken from her."

"I think it's important to appreciate the little things, you know?" she was saying as he stood next to her, pointedly not looking at her scars though his stance and demeanor told her that he had seen them. She glanced at him, smiling, and then realized what was wrong. She tried to discretely shift her sweater so that the back covered her shoulders more, and turned to look at him more fully.

Her smile was more pleading than it had been earlier.

Not now. Please. Just a few more minutes of being normal. Please.

He smiled back, hoping it was reassuring, and even stood next to her on the balcony, leaning on his elbows and entwining his fingers in front of him.

She turned back to look over the railing, smile easing back into what it had been before, as she said, "Alcyone always grumbles at me when I say things like that. 'Little things?'"—she adjusted her voice to mimic her friend's incredulousness—"'What little things do you need to appreciate?'"

Zagato let himself chuckle at her impression, "As cheerful as ever."

Emeraude chuckled, shaking her head, "I know she can be a little…heavy at times, but she's really good fun when you get to know her."

"And she's just so personable, getting to know her is so easy," He teased.

"Well, Zagato, I think the same could be said for you." She chided, wrinkling her nose at him.

He chuckled, shrugging to signal that he conceded.

Emeraude grinned at him, "But see? Things like that. Making someone laugh. Little things like that. That's important."

He shook his head at her, still smiling at her, and leaned a bit further over the balcony.

He looked down at the enclosed garden below them, spotting his brother napping in one of the trees, and his mentor, Guru Clef, meditating under a tree on the far side of the garden. He spotted his own assistant, Inouva, standing at the garden's entrance, surveying the garden as well, perhaps looking for him.

"You should share that with the guru, he could use a laugh or two." Zagato commented.

She laughed again, "I'm sure he'd love to hear your input on his sense of humor."

"I never said I was going to be the one to tell him that."

She shook her head, smiling still. She carefully took a small step closer to him.

He made no move to reassume the space between them, though he was careful to not get any closer to her.

"I worry…" she began and trailing off. She chewed on her lip, staring down into the garden.

He watched her, waiting her to find her words. She turned then, leaning her back against the railing and scratching the top of her head. She fidgeted with her sweater, still chewing her lip, then sighed and looked up at the sky.

The music was still playing in her room, and her decorations were still spinning lazily from a previous breeze.

"Sometimes," she said, finally figuring out what she wanted to say to him, rolling her head back down and staring intently at a spot on the ground in front of her, "I think we, people, close ourselves off to what could make us happy, you know?"

He furrowed his brow at her, "How so?"

She sighed, throwing her hands up and letting them swing down to her sides, and never looking up from the spot in front of her, "I just mean…sometimes we know that something could make us happy but we just…refuse to…to let ourselves be happy."

There was a pause before she dared to look at him, "You know?"

"Oh." He said, eyes growing wide at what she was telling him.

She sighed and hid her face in her hands, "Oh Gods."

He turned from the balcony and began to reach for her, "I…Emeraude…"

"Oh Gods." She moaned into her hands.

He was about to touch her shoulder when she stood up straight, and quickly walked back into her room. She threw her words fearfully over her shoulder, touching the top of her head, wanting to run her fingers through her hair out of habit but she couldn't because of her braid, "I, uh, I need to get ready for the next…things have been getting tense between Us and Autozam. Clef thinks that another…I need to get ready. I'm sorry."

Zagato stood, adjusting his shirt, "Of course. I'll see you in the temple."

She ducked into her closet, calling back a muffled affirmation.

He had spent the rest of that day kicking himself for not saying something to her.

[Break]

"Coming to you live from the Citadel, where Matron Pillar Emeraude has come to make a statement about the passing of the High Priest, Zagato. It has been two days since the Priest had been found dead on the Palace grounds, shortly after the Matron Pillar was meant to return from a visit to Chizeta to improve relations, and this will be her first public appearance in over a month. Many speculate—,"

"Oh would you turn that off? I can't stand that reporter's rambling." Kakeru grumbled from the couch in the Shidou family living room. His twin, Masaru sat on the floor in front of the TV, leaning against the side of an armchair, next to their younger sister, Hikaru, and her dog, Hikari. Hikaru was lying out on her stomach with Hikari curled next to her. She had one arm wrapped around Hikari and used her other arm to keep herself propped up. Their oldest brother, Satoru, was in the kitchen cooking dinner.

Masaru sat up and made to hit one of the buttons on the side of the television, the one piece of imported technology that their mother had bought for them, and their one connection to the rest of the country in their isolated home. It was small, and the reception was terrible, but at least they had it, at least that's how their mom always put it.

"No don't!" Hikaru yelled, taking her left arm from around Hikari and using it support herself, "I want to see the Matron!" Hikaru said quickly, blushing as she realized how loud her voice had been, but still waving her brother away with her right hand. Her dog, Hikari, lifted his head as his mistress took her arm away from it being wrapped around him and made a small whine at her to get her to pet him again.

Masaru smirked at her and held his hands up in a symbol of surrender, leaning back against the armchair, "All right, all right. Wouldn't want to get between you and your 'friend',"

Hikaru smiled at him, wrinkling her nose at him, then wrapped her arm back around Hikari, cooing an apology at him. He nuzzled closer to her as she looked back at the television.

Ever since she had been a child, whenever she had seen any picture of the Matron, Hikaru had been instantly captivated and would study her image carefully, red eyes always sparkling. This addiction was only exacerbated upon her mother's purchase of the television she was in front of with her brothers. She often would talk to a picture of the Matron that she had in her room; just nonsensical things about school, her family's dojo and the training program that had made them famous, her dog, her brothers, really just about anything. Masaru and Kakeru quickly took to harmlessly teasing her about it, often referring to the Matron as "Hikaru's friend." She never minded, and she also wouldn't explain to them why she felt so compelled to talk to the Matron rather than pray to her, as other citizens did.

The screen in front of her went from focusing on the reporter (who, Hikaru admitted to herself, really did have a grating voice) to zooming in on the balcony of the Palace at the center of the Citadel. The Matron was standing behind a podium, looking regal and dignified in her mourning clothing. Her dress was black and somber, a stark contrast to her usual whites and pastels, and it made her hair look brighter and her skin look paler. Most of her court wore dark clothing as well, all looking as tired and with eyes, if they were look up, that were vacant. Hikaru noted that the head of the Matron's private guard, a man who must have been a relative of the recently deceased High Priest, was absent.

The crowd that had gathered outside the Palace, previously loud with the peoples' chatter, became instantly quiet as the Matron spoke.

"My people," she spoke, her voice strong and clear even through, Hikaru noticed, she looked very tired and sad. She looked as if she were on the verge of tears.

"The passing of my trusted friend and one of our most respected Priests will be felt for many years to come. He was–,"

"Do you think being that beautiful is a requirement for being a Matron? Or do you think that it's just about having hair that's ridiculously long?" Kakeru asked from the couch, not listening to what the Matron was saying but wanting to say something.

Masaru rolled his eyes and turned his head towards his brother, "Yeah I'm sure the God of All Creation is really concerned about how his Matron looks. And besides," He grinned nudging his sister in the side gently, "if hair length was the requirement, our Hikaru would be inline as the next Matron."

Their sister's hair, a light firey red, was long enough to touch the back of her legs, though she usually kept most of it in a single braid down her back.

Hikaru, though she couldn't really hear what the Matron was saying anymore, studied the screen intently and paid no mind to her brothers' jokes or the nudge Masaru had given her. The Matron's voice must have cracked or something because she noticed that the woman on her left, the Priestess Alcyone, reached out and placed a hand carefully on the Matron's shoulder. The Guru to her right took a step closer to her and, though the move was hard to see on her family's small television, placed his hand on her back. The Matron paused, pulling her lips into her mouth and let out a breath that moved her shoulders before she continued.

Kakeru chuckled, "Well I mean if you want someone to pay attention to your message–,"

"Don't you think she looks sad?" Hikaru asked suddenly, studying the screen carefully.

Masaru paused, studying the screen with his sister, "No more than anyone else there. Why do you ask?"

Hikaru shook her head, petting Hikari's head absentmindedly, "It must be so lonely, is all. Knowing all the things she does, having all that responsibility; I wonder if she has any friends, or someone she can talk to."

Her brothers stayed quiet as they studied their sister as she watched the Matron Pillar on the television screen.

"Fuu! You're missing it!" Kuu yelled up the stairs to where she thought her sister was. Kuu leaned against the banister, left leg bent so that her foot rolled on her toe, and head tilted towards the second floor for any sign of movement.

She sighed when she didn't hear anything and yelled again, "The Matron's giving her statement about the death of that High Priest! It's really emotional, you should really—,"

"Kuu, what are you yelling for?"

Kuu jumped, letting out a small yelp as she spun around to look at the source of the voice. Her younger sister, Fuu, stood behind her, a book in one hand and one headphone disappearing into her blonde curls on the left side of her head as the other rested against her chest, threatening to tangle with the chain of her necklace.

"Fuu, you nearly made me jump out of my skin! Where have you been?" her sister asked, voice still loud after the scare her sister gave her.

Fuu shrugged, "I was just sitting outside—,"

"The last I saw you had gone upstairs, and the only way to our garden is through the kitchen where I have been all afternoon and not once did I see you walk passed me. How on earth did you get outside?" Kuu asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest and letting herself fall back against the bannister to lean against. She crossed her right ankle over her left and arched an eyebrow at her sister, waiting for her answer.

"Um…well…" Fuu rubbed the back of her head with her right hand, a nervous habit, and when she pulled her hand back from her hair, she was holding a small twig.

Her sister's eyes widened as she saw the twig and Fuu giggled, "I guess I found my own way out."

Kuu grinned at her, "Oh you sneaky little thing."

Fuu giggled again, letting her book fall open and pressing the twig closed inside of it.

"Though you know," Kuu continued, reassuming her previous stance and tone of incredulous big sister, "A normal teenager would use the ability to climb out onto a tree to go places other than just on their house's grounds."

Fuu made a face at her, "Well a 'normal' teenager's house doesn't have grounds."

Kuu pointed at her, "Point taken."

Fuu smirked and shook her head at her sister, "Besides, the trees were 'calling me' as you like to call it."

Ever since Fuu had been a child, she'd spend as much time as she possibly could out among the trees, climbing them and sitting beneath them and just being near them, and where the wind could reach her. When she tried to stay inside, or when the rains kept her from being out, she would get so fidgety. "The trees are calling her" her sister used to tell their parents.

Kuu grinned at her sister and stood up from the bannister. She linked her arm with her sisters and quickly led her sister into the living room, where their family's television was broadcasting live from the Citadel.

"C'mon! I had only started yelling because I was trying to get you down here to watch the Matron. You know how much Mom and Dad love it when we keep up with what's going on in their jobs."

Their parents were both politicians of a fashion in their country. They were employed by a division of the Matriarchy to go and act as the government representatives for one of the farther out cities that made up parts of Cephiro. The city where they lived wasn't nearly as large as the Citadel, but it was still fairly sizeable. Fuu shook her head at her sister, smirking briefly, before looking back at the television screen.

The Matron, looking somber in her black clothing, looked as if she was fighting the urge to cry right there from behind the podium. Fuu's heart went out to the woman on the screen, and she wished that her position wasn't one of such a public nature so that, even as the Matron Pillar, she could grieve how a person should.

Fuu shook her head as her sister launched herself over the back of their family's couch and stretched out on the sofa, "I don't know why you'd think I'd want to."

Kuu glanced up at her sister, "Oh come now, we used to love watching the Matron's broadcasts, and it's been so long since—,"

"Those were different," Fuu replied coolly, "She didn't look as if she were barely holding herself together those times."

Kuu sighed and let her head fall back against a pillow she had landed on, closing her eyes, "Yeah. I know."

Fuu looked at the screen again before saying quietly, "She just looks like she wants to go home."