Disclaimer: I don't own anything! The words in italics are from Les Miserables and I completely recommend Lea Salonga's voice singing if you want to hear this song. It's called The Dream I Dreamed.
Author's Note:
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting.
Yuan had often imagined women's hands to feel much smaller—daintier, even—in his own. But Martel's didn't. Her hands were calloused and warm and slender, but not small, a trait from the lovely, long-limbed elves.
She laughed as she trailed behind him, hands still linked as he tried to convince her to come out to see this beautiful sight out behind the city. They stumbled on their way up the hill, their laughter sprawling behind them, reverberating out into the air, the grass, as Martel cursed at her dress, bunching the skirt in her free hand so it wouldn't trip her any longer.
By the time they reached the top, they're breathless from laughter and their cheeks were flushed from the light chill that settled over the land on spring mornings.
Martel looked around, tucking loose locks of her behind her triangular ears. The hills sprawled out, though she swore she could still smell the war lingering on the wind and the fires of the battlefield seemed to glow on one horizon while the sun rose on the other. The gentle dawn seemed so strange a sight when all she had known for weeks upon weeks had been the red of blood and the paleness of corpses with familiar faces.
Yuan wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his lips to the bend of her neck. "I thought you could use some reminding."
She leaned back into him. "Of what?"
"Of what we've been fighting for." They stood in comfortable silence for a long time, long enough for half the sun to be settled onto the horizon, its bright rays burning the sky orange. Yuan nudged her cheek with his nose. "…Do you ever think we could be heroes? Like in the old stories?"
"You sound like Mithos."
"I'm being serious."
"So's he. But I think so. Yeah, why not?"
He snorted. "Why not? Because we're soldiers and slaves' children. Those never change the world."
"Then perhaps we'll be the first."
The sound of his humming vibrated against her skin. "Perhaps."