Was it possible for eyes to glitter? Because the shine in Diarmuid's honey orbs had her melting as she placed her small hand into his larger one. The confidence radiating off of him was so alluring and inviting that Haley felt it was easy to go along with whatever he suggested. It was silly but wonderful.
Had the telekinetic ever felt so enamored by a single person?
As the music switched to a relatively medium pop beat, Haley blew out a reassuring breath. Her lean self turned to face her Knight, who gave her an encouraging wink to accompany his gorgeous smile.
"I feel this requires some agile movement," Diarmuid coaxed the Lady with a bit of oomph in his tone, to be heard above the music. His eyes meticulously scanned the swayed arms and the jitters of circling of one another that followed suit.
Haley's heart pounded, her hand still firmly grasped in the Irishman's strong hold, as he mimicked the crowd. Diarmuid moved away from her, then spun her close, and then back away again. She giggled as he twirled her; at the corner of her eye, she saw someone complete a nimble roll in the air.
Taking some tips from the imagery around her, Haley nabbed the Knight so they were now shoulder-to-shoulder. "I think we are supposed to copy them!" she said through laughs, and crossed her arms a couple of times over her chest with a little bump to her step.
It was magnificent how quickly her Knight caught on, and they both turned to the rhythm with a matching clap into the group. Haley decided to be a bit flirtatious—and used the beat to add a hip jerk into Diarmuid's side. The playful look he shot her had her internally squealing with delight.
As she faced the handsome man, they both bobbed to the side, and nearly dropped into a bow to each other. They then broke apart to move to the beat, before they reunited—each with a hand on the other's torso—at the corner of their navels.
Following the others' flawless choreography that changed with the new melody, Haley bumped to the music with her back to Diarmuid, and raised her arm; to which he firmly—but gently—gripped her wrist and she felt him swaying to the music behind her. It was inexplicable how the melody instinctively guided her hips and limb movement.
"Hey, I know this! It's...uh... it's... salsa!" Haley exclaimed, as the melody switched and Diarmuid twirled her to face him.
Diarmuid searched his knowledge for the term and came up empty. He knew of dance, and the movement inclined, but the particular styles were drawing blanks besides a few Irish and Japanese moves. The only thing that came to mind when thinking of salsa was… "Is that not a dip?" he breathed, as her delicate hands gripped his waist.
Haley bit back her laughter and encouraged him to mimic her shifting hips by swaying his. "I mean yeah, but it's a Spanish thing! I've seen it a couple of times!"
The chords picked up. Diarmuid could have regretted the choice to join the dancing when it required such fancy footwork, and the odd ululation he was not familiar with nor gracious at. He glimpsed the other men, and realized this was more harmonious and tactile than the other dances.
Still, the Knight wanted his Lady to enjoy herself, and she seemed more adequate in this… style than others they'd experienced, so try he would. Despite how… handsy he necessarily had to be.
Thus, in correspondence with the required mobility, her small left hand found itself swimming in his, and her right was brought to his brawny shoulders. Back Haley stepped before she was pulled forward, to be twirled like the princess he believed her to be; bringing her backside to his chest as together they dipped backwards.
Her body was pressed perfectly to his, and they both separated to the music with only one of their hands locked as they spread apart. He did his best to spin back to her in the space they closed, and leveled his hand on her lower back to support the dip she performed.
Each twirl they attempted, and the leg movements that failed to meet their correct rhythm, brought about the most natural laugh Diarmuid had ever heard from the Lady. It was sweet, melodious, and flowed like the music with an expression of pure bliss painted on her gorgeous features.
To some, this was just a dance. To others, most likely a waste of time. To Diarmuid? It was the most precious time he had ever spent with a woman. The feeling of beatitude swept away his worries, and transported him to a place of pure content. He had never felt as at ease as he did on the battlefield, but 'dancing' was its own form of grace.
In a final twirl of the bright, engaging woman, he pulled her off the ground and into his hip, supporting the crease in her knees. He returned her to her feet in a deft swoop and she dipped back over his arm, to slowly be brought back up by the Irishman's clever hands. He then inclined forward, with her face mere inches from his. Their breaths tickled each other, and when his glowing amber eyes locked with her shining crystals... his heart threatened to explode from the shock waves of intimacy that electrified his veins.
It was if the Universe died out and all that it left was Diarmuid, and the beautiful woman that was Haley. Her arms wrapped around his neck for support, but her eyes never left his countenance as it swirled like the dancers. She must share the same unknown chemistry and pull that twanged between them.
Diarmuid's eyes dropped to the soft, plush lips that were parted ever so slightly, as if begging for his own to reach them. Carefully, he thumbed the bottom lip that was always nibbled by her teeth, while his other fingers rested on her warm, soft cheeks.
"My... Lady Haley.. I—I wish... to kiss you." His bold declaration buried his brevity and immediately he shot his stare to the grass at their dress shoes. "If... you share such desires and were not to be burdened by my lack of… warmth."
Cerulean eyes tracked Diarmuid's handsome—yet vulnerable—features down to his mouth and hovered there. She wanted to taste what his lips felt like against her own. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her pulse spiked with a delightful burn.
Haley drew her hands down the collar of his shirt to cup those flushed cheeks into her palms, and brought back his face to look at her. This man was special, and the circumstances of his form wouldn't sway her emergent attachment...
Diarmuid deserved to know that she reciprocated (even if she were still a little unsure what this all meant), and that no matter the worries that filled his Spirit, she would be there to reconcile it. " I will be your warmth."
Her adulation tossed away any doubt and managed to uncover the flare Diarmuid thought had left long ago. Their growing connection had him drawing her face to his as he planted his mouth across the woman's lips: this woman who supported him, who stuck by him, and who aspired for nothing else but his safety.
Just as she stated, her lips were warm and welcoming, as was her aroma of sweet vanilla. His heart thundered in his ears and for the first time, Diarmuid felt integral and unflawed. A needy hand found the vacant side of the Lady's face and pulled her harder against him with an ignited fervor.
Her Knight's torrid lips were thicker than hers, but they melted into her perfectly, with just the mildest hint of alcohol. She wanted nothing more than to dive into his soul then, and discover every bit of him that hid there… to engender a return of the emotions that she believed he didn't think he deserved.
Haley had never been kissed before, and had not known what to expect when receiving one from... well, a spirit granted a physical form. But hell, this was more than just a first kiss. This was— emotions bottled and thrown under the sink as they were finally set free. Angst, longing, fear and infatuation all meshed together as their uniting bonded them.
When they broke apart, every fiber of her being urged to yank him back, and do it all over again.
"I—I have wanted to do that for such a long time," Diarmuid whispered, as he cradled her locks to shift her against his chest.
"You... have no idea how long I didn't know how much I needed that." Haley responded, as she wrapped her arms around his toned body. His heart hammered with her own, and a new spark of joy thrummed through her veins.
Diarmuid rested his chin on her head as the music finally rang again in his ears, and he realized they were a little in the way of the party. "Come..." he started, not letting the woman from his sight. "There is much we must discuss."
Haley nodded in agreement, and the Knight guided the profusely flushed woman off the field to the trunk of a tree, slightly away from the buzz of the crowd.
Pressed against the bark, her little hand still clasped in his, Diarmuid drew the Lady down with him to the lush green lawn. To the corner of him sat a flower bush from which plucked a bright fuschia flower. He delicately gripped the delicate beauty (similar to the Lady) and slid the stem into the lines of her hair, just above her ear.
Haley answered with a pleasant giggle. The tint of pink in her cheeks matched the rosy flower and the perk in her spirits made the Irishman's heart leap. He was transfixed with the idea of pressing another kiss, but patiently waited for the opportunity to do so another time, as they intended to discuss these... affections that took over him so.
"I am not quite certain how to approach this conversation, so I will just admit that—" he swallowed, for pride and all, this was harder than he had anticipated, "For the remainder of this.. Tournament— that I would like to explore my growing fancy of you... If you are disposed to do so as well."
If she wanted to as well? Haley bit back her chuckle, as she did not want to embarrass him in any way. He was spilling his feelings for her. Who knew? Now all of those awkward pauses, hands lingering together, heads touching— it all made so much sense. She felt the same way—had to have, as she had never felt her heart flutter like it did around this man.
The telekinetic had never wanted someone's company so strongly, nor expended herself this proudly for someone, either. It was no longer fit to reason her actions were because she never wanted to go back on a promise: it was this pure, undeniable connection she felt to this man that drove her resolve...
That had broken the internal barriers that were thrown up long ago.
"I'd like that," her voice carried in the light breeze. Diarmuid's single strand of hair that swayed in the air was swept back by her kneading of his forehead. "I never felt this way before, though... So I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do."
Deft fingers weaved through soft tresses while her dainty forehead was brought forward so Diarmuid could rest his lips against it. "Nothing... just continue to be your wonderful self."
Haley felt as though she could melt into the man's gentle touch, and caress him for the rest of the evening, caring nothing of who saw nor wondered. "Okay—with kisses and hugs, too?"
Diarmuid tipped up her chin. "With plenty." Making true of his word, he parted her mouth just enough to wedge his fuller lips in between her own, when a thought crossed his mind. He only retracted after lingering against her warmth and sweetness for a few seconds longer, "I—forgive me—for suggesting such a thing, but—"
Haley noticed her Knight's copper gems shift with doubt and worry, as he brushed his thumb across his mole, effectively paralyzing her stammering heart. "Does it… has it...?"
Her chestnut locks shook aggressively. "Of course not!" Dainty hands made their way to grip high cheekbones. "Everything that's pulled me closer has just been you. Not some stupid magic, or curse: it's just been your beautiful spirit."
"And... that does not quite bother you, that I... that I am but a spirit?"
Her gut wrenched at Diarmuid's vulnerability over such things. The cursed spot was of course understandable, as it had taken away any true chance for love for this man, should any woman be entranced by the magic. But the feelings of attachment and infatuation that looked beyond the spell-craft persisting on his face would not be stalled by his lack of life.
"No," she said firmly, as she traced the corners of his countenance down to the crack of his chest that escaped from the confinements of his button-up shirt. "You're still you and you feel, passed on or not. The only thing that bothers me is that…" she shook her head, and slipped her hand under his collar to palm the scar over his heart.
The scar from his spear, and the cause of their meeting in the Underworld.
"...that you are here."
Diarmuid opened and closed his mouth, words not properly forming on his tongue. He rested his forehead to hers, just as he had the day she had opened her heart to him and he had proclaimed his loyalty to her, despite the past she feared he would shun her for.
Haley leaned upward, closing their miniscule gap to lock her lips with his again, never foregoing the thought to do so ever again. It felt so right, and she would stay like this forever if not for the man who cleared his throat beside them.
"Yo," the fellow Irishman started, palm raised with the cheekiest grin Haley had ever had the distaste of witnessing.
"Hi," the telekinetic groaned, as she stood with Diarmuid in tow.
"Cu Chulainn," Diarmuid started, bowing forward. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?"
Dressed in this tight white t-shirt that outlined the stockiness of the royal blue rag-tailed Legend, Cu Chulainn jammed his hands into the pockets of his tight black dress pants. "Save the formalities, but I got somethin' for the little lady."
Haley's eyebrows rose. "What— why?"
Pulled from Cu's pocket and then jammed in the Lady's hand was a note attached to a small key that resembled the two remaining ones she had locked away in the drawer of the nightstand.
"Twas a request heavily debated on—which, by the way," Cu leaned in much too close for comfort as the telekinetic shrank into her shoulders, "We have been doin' a lot lately, thanks to your... antics ."
The snaggle tooth that inched out from the handsome Irishman's features made Haley's eyebrows scrunch together. Was the Demi-God actually part beast? Scary.
"Er, sorry?" Haley squeaked, as Diarmuid's hand snaked around her waist and she was tugged gently into his side.
"My Lady has a good heart, I am sure you understand." Her Knight spoke softly, but the glare in his eyes comforted her.
So protective— she wanted to squirm with joy.
"Tch, saps. Anyway," Cu indolently leaned back, "You're Irish, too, right?"
Diarmuid exchanged a perplexed look with his Lady. He was, but why did that matter? "Indeed."
"Then how's about a challenge? Irishman to Irishman." The lip curl on the spearman's face was nothing but mischievous.
"Alright, lover boy: Whoever inhales more of this fine ale is the winner. I'll throw in some random advantage against me if we fight next, or some shit." Wedged in between Cu's hands was a large pitcher—almost half the size of the man—that he slammed into the weeds.
Diarmuid blinked. Where the hell did Cu Chulainn find that? And he wondered excitedly when they should start?! Only... Waitl... He glanced at his Lady whose wide eyes gawked at the container of liquor. Would she be offended if I indulged?
Haley breathed outwardly through her nose, then chuckled. She patted her puppy-dog-eyed Knight on the back. "Imma go sit back under the tree." As she trailed her tongue over her lower lip, Haley pushed up on her toes and pecked the joyous man's cheek. "Have fun."
Cu pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jeez, save that for the bedroom! It's time for drinks!"
Diarmuid laughed inwardly, and crossed his legs in the field of grass. Joined by the hooting and hollering of Achilles, he poured their first full charcoal cups full to the brim after plopping a small table on the ground, which separated the two Irishman.
And thus, the raven haired Knight chugged his first cup. His next drink, he amped up the pace, eyeing the ruby eyed man who was carelessly faster in hogging his beverage than he. Both of them exchanged quips as they refused to let up.
"Ah so this~ this is where my cauldron went!" Emerging from lavender speckles coupled with luscious pink flower petals, and cloaked in his usual white attire, Merlin slapped the back of the Irishman's spiky, cerulean head. "Cu Chulainn, leave the sneaking behavior to Loki~!"
"Ack, oi oi, careful there, ya ancient coot!" Cu snapped with a hiccup, as he rubbed the antagonized spot behind his head.
Diarmuid could not contain his snicker. "That twas not expected."
"If ya gotta problem with it; join us! Though we got pretty far—so ya gotta drink 1-2-3-4-Fi—AHHH. ACH—illes, how many?!"
The Greek stroked the back of his neck. "Too many. You two are nuts."
"Mmm! You've already wasted half the barrel, you drunkards! This... was for the participants, but alas, fine, I join!" Merlin sat and a cup appeared magically as his fingers wiggled. Achilles gave him a look that made the merry man laugh as he was poured multiple drinks.
Bewildered, Cu and Diarmuid locked eyes with each other, then back to the wizard, who abruptly stated he had "caught up with them."
Achilles' eyebrows wrinkled together; Merlin seemed unphased. He thought it was strange until he took another gander at the cauldron and then he refused to smack his forehead in disbelief.
That loony magician has been magically switching the alcohol for water.
The blond caught the amethyst colored eyes that gave him a wink and cringed. Agghh. What did I get myself involved in? Yeesh.
—
Well, so much for having a moment with her Knight… if any more, at all. Cu's unscrupulous little challenge was leaving her friend ( boyfriend?) extremely wasted. Diarmuid and his antics—he was seemingly unable to deny a challenge brought to him. Especially when it concerned liquor and competing against a Legend who was shared across his people.
Haley sighed, as hardy laughter erupted when Cu smashed a glass against the smallest white coffee table she had even seen. Diarmuid followed soon after, gulping down the beverage as though his spirit depended on it.
Not nearly as entertained by their little drinkathon as the gathering group of contenders and Panel alike, Haley turned her attention to the little white flap of paper attached by tape to the key that was given to her earlier. She sat in the grass, legs extended as she unravelled the note:
'Haley, was it?
I want to apologize for my brother's attack. A long time ago, before he died: Jaxon was a good man. I looked up to him, as any little sister would. But he fell down a very bad path when he became involved with some… shady people, after our parents died. He was lost, and turned to a magic that warped his spirit, and eventually killed him.
I came here to try to bring back the man that was lost, the one who sheltered me and became the only family I had in a time of anguish and loneliness. Unfortunately, the curse attached to him was too great, and — as you witnessed — had made it impossible for me to save him.
Despite his thrashing, and the risks that were involved, you miraculously cured him of whatever evils he dallied with. For the first time in twelve years, I saw the same smile light up his face equivalent to when we were happy children. Something I thought I would never see.
I am in no way a good person, but after seeing the miracle that you permitted us (even if it was for a few minutes) I asked the Panel to give you this letter. I also asked if they could give you any of my winnings, but figured that probably wouldn't happen.
I came to the Underworld to take down whoever stood in my way and to revive my family. Now I leave it, realizing that all I really wanted, was to see the light in my brother's smile once again. I know he is gone to an eternity of suffering for his choices, and I am forever to be burdened with that... but one thing is certain.
I am grateful to you for granting him temporary peace.'
The brim of her eyelids filled and she blinked away the sudden urge to spill the tears. This letter, this was her reason for turning to curse-healing magic. To help others who were lost and drifted off to places unseen by evils or spells that corrupted their very cores.
Her life was a sham, filled with torture and solitude; but when she helped others and was granted this result, her purpose for living felt accomplished. That even she—someone who was hunted—could bring about the happiness she desired in someone else.
She folded the note back into a tiny little square and pocketed the golden key into her boot, since her dress lacked any storage space. I'm glad she made it out okay.
Haley gazed back at Diarmuid, who joyfully finished another cup and swayed left and right. There was a gleeful energy that surrounded him, and Merlin appeared happy to join in their little rendezvous.
Her lips kicked up at the corners. After having witnessed firsthand his emotional turmoil over his past experiences… seeing Diarmuid being carefree and enjoying himself… that was her reason for being here. That Spirit was her own first taste of her happiness.
Getting attached to the Knight was never the goal, but in some sort of madness—it happened. And it was the best thing she could ever ask for. Because that man cared for her like no one had, and unlike she imagined anyone ever would. He had consulted her, forgiven her, accepted her, despite her quirks.
He had given her her very first kiss.
Haley tapped her fingers to her lips. The ghost of Diarmuid's kiss still lingered, as her thoughts reflected upon it. She prayed to anyone, everyone—that somehow, he would be saved… because he belonged with the group that circled him. He was meant to be a Heroic Spirit, just like Achilles and Cu Chulainn, and he deserved nothing more than to join them.
—
"So tell me: How does a Spirit get drunk, again?" the pitched voice asked, and Diarmuid flinched at how much higher (and shriller) his Lady sounded to his hammered head.
"I—some underworld body...magic nonsense," he muttered, rolling his fingers through his locks to remove the residue. Apparently, Cu Chulainn had thought it would be funny to decorate his raven hair with bits of bread and other foods.
Haley couldn't contain her giggle, as she massaged her thumbs against her temples from behind the dizzied man. "Well, at least they had something to reverse the effects. Courtesy of Merlin's magic or something?"
Diarmuid shrugged indifferently: all the little potion had achieved was returning him back from being a shameful drunkard… something he had said he wouldn't be out of respect for his Lady; but alas, it would have been too great a loss, to deny Cu Chulainn. At least she seemed entertained by his pounding headache instead of infuriated that he had left her to watch his… endeavors.
"Ah, well, come on. During your little escapade, it was announced everyone had to go to the lakefront. Can you manage?"
The Knight nodded, and teetered as he stood, which brought about another laugh from Haley. She wondered if he would hurl right here: if that were even possible, of course. Didn't whatever he consume just become bottled energy within him? If so—well, he was stuck feeling hungover the rest of the night, it seemed.
Joining the group of scattered souls and their counterparts, Observers passed by and handed the lot some dark paper lanterns.
"To commemorate the souls of the dead that have gathered here, and have been lost in the battles of the Tournament! We shall light our Lanterns, to then set them afloat with any little wish you may have: to pay your respects to the fallen, or to honor a friend in the living world—whatever you desire!" Merlin stated, as bits of construction paper and marker were passed out. "This is my... little adjustment to the hauntingly beautiful festival of 'Toro Nagashi' in Japan."
Haley thought deeply on what small message she would scribe into the scrappy little paper. Would it be something she geared towards Diarmuid, the former Heroic Spirit? Regrettably, she came up empty on anyone in the living to record on the sheet. The idea of this Japanese tradition was to honor the dead… and there were so many who had fallen in this tournament.
Like Armenia and Egan… The thought of her two friends overrode any doubt of what was to be written.
Diarmuid watched the lady scribble, engulfed in whatever conception that guided her marker. He, on the other hand, stared profoundly at the blank shard of paper, at a loss as to his own potential inscription. He had no one to mourn, no interest in the living (aside from his Lady, but he digressed), no wish he wanted granted any longer, for it only ended in his disappointment—
Or did he? He carried his glance to Lady Haley yet again. She folded her finished work, and taped it to what would become a beacon traveling the lake.
"What are you gonna put? I have revered you, and left hope that those who were lost... could find what they're looking for, even if it's miniscule." Curious crystals peered over broad shoulders, and came up empty. "Not gonna write anything?"
"I had not thought so, for my only wish is to tread the path of loyalty I was unable to hold before," he murmured sullenly, as he shifted his utensil to carve the new wish in his heart. "I am unsure... that I can achieve that wish any longer, however..." He curled the paper and attached it to his lantern. "...I have decided on another."
Haley wrapped her arms around the Knight's neck, and brushed the lateral plane of her brow to his, letting it rest there for a few moments as she contemplated how best to encourage Diarmuid's reflective thought processes.
Whether he understood it or not, him diverging from that faulty ideal was necessary to his self-healing. Though, she forewent divulging that information, as that internal conflict required his own realized reflection. Thinking on it further, he proved that wish, anyhow. His loyalty to her was proof of that, no?
She erased that process from her mind, and pecked his temple. "Interesting, do tell."
"For My Lady's well deserved freedom," Diarmuid spoke the sentiment softly, recounting the night they gazed upon the stars.
It was her sole wish, after all. His kind Lady—who knew nothing but her confinements and torment—being wickedly hunted for the powers she possessed. Her name sullied, and shamed by deception… only for her to remain gentle-spirited, and always aiming for the protection of others.
Diarmuid wanted nothing more than for her to find her own meaning of what it was to be free; and to enjoy the life she was gifted. He truly believed the courageous, considerate woman had earned at least this much. While this little activity was rather unavailing, the saccharinity remained... along with his migraine.
The sentiment hit its mark as Haley snuggled into him and hugged his torso tight enough to snap him in two (were she not a petite, and slender as a reed). "Stop being so chivalrous... or whatever… I'm blushing like a little schoolgirl."
Diarmuid snickered, his stance wavering as he recollected himself upright. "I only speak the truth, Lady Haley." Lantern tucked under his bicep, the Knight offered his Lady the other arm, as they strolled to the lake's edge with the remaining contestants.
"For your happiness is mine in this dark place," he finished, turning the little nob that brightened the glow, and setting the craftwork afloat alongside hers.
Haley's attention wandered to the souls that occupied the lakefront. Each pair of individuals wore fancy garb, loaded with prizes as they watched their wishes drifting away in the light tide glowing under the moonlight. Some faces she recognized from earlier introductions, and others from past experiences. Like Medea, whom she never thought could be so happy, wearing a stronger blush on her rosy cheeks.
The Greek woman had a huge stuffed elf strapped to the man with her, which made Haley glance at the little prize strapped snugly against her thigh. It made her wonder how Medea would bring her winnings to the Throne. Or maybe her greatest desire was to become human again—to be with that man, if they won.
It was ironic. Yes, they were in this hellish tournament to take the other out, to meet a goal that they might not be capable of accomplishing. But on this particular night, as the warm breeze caressed them, as the stars glistened overhead and the dim light of hope embarked on a small journey across the large lake that surrounded the Arena… Haley understood one thing.
That no matter the cost, and how hard their struggles were to obtain the goals they all sought to reach: Haley would appreciate all that had transpired, more than anything.
—
Its finally haaapppeennned! The Slow burn has come to an end ahhh. 35 fuckin chapters for feelings to finally be admitted, and the kiss I've long awaited for! And the declaration of I am your warmth cuz she is.. she is his positives while he is hers. So cute!
And the dance, I watched some videos and left some imagination to the reader for what styles theyre doing a bit.
And then cu + merlin and shenanigans. Just an overall fluff chapter haha. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope yall loved the romance that finally bloomed. It took forever to get here, but I think given the events and the pacing and the characters- it fit for it to be this long. 3
Let me know what you think and see you next week!