setting: one year after the war has ended.
disclaimer: I own nothing.
author's notes: 'it was the rare souls full of hope who showed the world what could be done.' -hugh howey, sand
She doesn't think she can ever forgive the light-footed Avatar; doesn't think she can ever look him in the eye with the respect and admiration that she used to.
She is listening to the clang as each piece of her armor falls to the floor heavily, pockmarked with dents and scratches and burns. She stares into the mirror with hollow, weary eyes, fingers barely managing to unlace the singed leather beneath the iron.
"Here. Let me." Zuko's voice, quiet and rasping in the slowly dimming light of the afternoon, interrupts her movements. Her clumsy, numb fingers fall to her sides as she allows him to help her out of the stiffened armor. She can hear the sharp intake of breath as he notices the bruises and scars flecking her arms and shoulders, the burn marks on her throat; she healed him before she could heal herself.
His hands pause for a moment on the gentle slope of her shoulders and she can feel the callouses on the pads of his fingertips as they skim along the tanned skin; she can feel the goosebumps rising along her throat. She quivers a little with the emotion she feels between them, feeling both of their heartbeats quicken. His fingers hover over the injuries, trembling reverently; his voice is thick with emotion when he finally speaks.
"I'm so sorry, Katara. I should have listened to you." He mumbles, fisting his white fingers in the ebony of his hair, gripping with the strength of self-deprecation. She turns to face him, lips quirked slightly at the corners.
"It's done, Zuko. Listen to me next time." The waterbender remarks, teasing gently, picking his fingers from his skull and holding them between her tanned, calloused palms. He squirms under her scrutiny for a moment, wriggling his hands free.
"But you wouldn't have been hurt if I had made them let you come with me." He frowns; she shakes her head, dimpling with a grin, teeth white against her ash-stained cheeks. He can hear the merry clicking of the bone and shell she has braided into the tangled, knotted locks; for a moment, he can feel the chill of a southern breeze against his cheeks.
but then he blinks, and suddenly, she is clothed in fiery red and gold; her hair is long and curling and decorated with a golden flame-
"I probably would have been squashed underneath a beam, like you were. Honestly, it might be a lucky thing that I wasn't right behind you. Otherwise nobody would have been able to save your royal ass." Katara teases, and he flushes a little, and they stare and stare and stare for a moment before she remembers her state of dress.
Her heartbeat falls jaggedly out of step as she realizes she is standing in front of the Fire Lord in nothing but a torn-to-shreds length of blue fabric, the edges of her sarashi peeking through. She is no longer a thin, underfed girl-child; in her time away from him, she has blossomed into a woman, and she has no desire to run about in nothing but her wrappings any longer.
He seems to realize the same thing all at once; he looks mildly ill, swallowing noisily in the strained silence that has fallen over them as his cheeks flame.
She steps out of the last of her armor, clothed in dirty, singed wrappings; Zuko nods towards the bathroom, jaw clenched minutely, decisively not looking in her direction. He pockets his hands; she does not miss that his knuckles are white with the effort of clenching his fists.
"You can draw a bath, if you'd like. I've got some spare robes that might fit you- if you don't mind the color, that is." He pinks immediately, tips of his ears flaming red. Katara laughs hoarsely, leaning her head into the wide, burning chest of the Fire Lord for a moment. Surprised, he glances down at the head of curls pressed to his chest; he lets his arm wrap about her for a moment and Agni it feels so right to hold her and his heart squeezes painfully when she steps out of his embrace.
"Get back in bed, Fire Lord. I can take care of myself." She flicks her hair over her shoulder, the ghost of a grin on her face; his eyes are trained on the motion and he has to remind himself to stop staring at her.
He swears he can see the stars in her eyes, glittering faintly, a quiet, cold burn that reminds him of her strength.
agni, she is so beautiful- even covered in ash and dirt and bruises and blood-
"Okay." He manages, before watching the bathroom door shut. His face is flushed with embarrassment- how old is he, again?- and he reminds himself to look for a spare set of robes. He is more than a little dazed, but he struggles his way to the wardrobe and thumbs through the silken garments, almost unthinkingly; his heart is slamming messily against his rib cage and he feels more awkward than he can ever remember being.
The Fire Lord thrusts the clean set of robes through the door, dumping them unceremoniously on the counter in the bathroom, eyes averted, before slamming the door shut again. He can hear her laughter even through the paneling of the door; the sound bubbles and fizzes and he is reminded of the long-forgotten songs and lore of river spirits, the tales from his childhood that danced in his dreams.
he wonders if she is a river spirit, sent to sing him into a watery grave; somehow, he wouldn't mind.
She sinks into the bath with a sigh, the warm water glowing faintly as she starts to attend to her own injuries. There isn't much she can do- they've all set into her skin- but she soothes the ache somewhat and lets herself relax into the warmth of the tub. There are scented soaps and soft towels and she wonders when she has ever been exposed to so much luxury all at once.
The girl of ice and snow stares at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment after she has slid Zuko's robes on and tied them securely. She commits the sight of the dark carmine edged in gold to memory; sees how the hue brings out the blueness of her eyes and the foreign, almond-tint of her skin.
it is almost as if she belongs in red; almost as if she has been waiting a lifetime to feel secure, to feel at home, at peace.
The longer she stares, the quieter her mind becomes.
how is it that she feels more at home in the land of fire than she did in the land of ice?
When she emerges again, he is curled into the sheets, the worry lines on his face smoothed with peace. The ruined side of his face is tilted up; his eyes are closed, eyelashes casting spidery shadows upon the curves of his cheeks. He looks feverishly young and threadbare; barely held together with the promises that have been made to him.
She steps towards him, bare feet on the elegant, woven rugs, trailing a length of fabric behind her as she walks. Katara is wrapped in the crimson silk of the Fire Lord; she can still smell his presence in the robes she has tied about herself, smoke and spice. Something chokes deep in her throat as she lets the pads of her fingers rest on the ridges of his scar, something aches as she cups his cheek in her palm.
how much pain he must have been in, she muses to herself, the agony must have kept him awake for months.
She is disturbed by the images her mind produces of the young Fire Prince writhing in distress; unable to sleep, unable to bear the sight of his own face. Her thumb has begun to move in tiny circles across the surface of his scarred cheekbone; he stirs, one golden eye regarding her curiously.
"Does it hurt?" She blurts, her fingertips pausing, curling gently around the back of his neck and feeling the pulse at his throat. Amused, Zuko shakes his head; a flash of a smile has quirked one edge of his mouth and she feels her cheeks heat for asking.
"The nerve endings were too damaged to function. I felt nothing after a few days, which I suppose was a blessing." He notes wryly, catching her hand in his and pressing it to his mouth. A moment passes; she listens easily to the sound of his breath shifting in his lungs and she lets her fingers wander across the planes of his face again.
"You don't... mind it?" His voice cracks in the center of his sentence; she watches his forehead crumple with worried lines. A wistful smile crosses her face, then, as she shakes her head silently.
"Of course not, Zuko. Your scar has always been a mark of honor, in my eyes." The waterbender murmurs lowly, and she watches as emotion streaks suddenly across his face. He is surprised, at first; jaw working, golden eyes widened, and she thinks for a moment he may cry.
Instead, he sits up and pulls her to him; his hands are warm, palms flattened against her back.
"Thank you." He mumbles against her hair, and then he releases her, almost as quickly as he had gathered her into his arms. He seems to just notice in that moment that she is wearing his colors; it feels oddly intimate to be wearing his robe, and she inhales sharply as he skims the rough pads of his fingers along the length of her jaw, slipping down her throat and finally coming to rest on the embroidered material.
"You look beautiful in red," Zuko murmurs; so quietly she almost misses the sentiment. "I hope you don't hate it too much."
Her heart lurches painfully, then, and she presses her mouth to his feverishly; hoping she can convince him that she doesn't hate anything about him, least of all the color of his Nation.
She is not sure when she fell asleep.
She stirs muzzily, stretching her stiff legs out as she realizes how much time has passed. The sun has long sunken in the sky and it is low, now; hovering just at eye level outside of the window. There is a dusky glow filtering through the glass panes and she can see the specks of dust reflecting in the shafts of light through the curtains. She smiles at the sight for a long moment, blissful; a low, deep sigh quivers in her chest and she lets her crown of curls rest in the hollow of Zuko's shoulder.
She flinches as she hears the sound that must have woken her again- a loud rapping at the Fire Lord's door- and nearly falls off of the huge bed from shock. She recovers, curling back against Zuko's side and more than a little tempted to ignore the visitor; he is warm and his heartbeat is slow and steady and comforting. Bleary-eyed, the girl frowns and lets her head fall back against the wide expanse of Zuko's chest, tucking her body back into the curve of his side.
But they knock again; and this time, she can hear a thin, weary voice calling her name-
"Come on, Katara, open the door."
It is the voice of her brother, and Katara can feel the rushing of his blood.
she hates it, and La, she hates it; she can hear the singing of his veins and she can remember the wideness of his eyes when she froze his blood-
Zuko stirs sleepily but does not wake and she knows that he would only greet the visitor with weary platitudes; she knows it hurts his pride that he had to ask Sokka to come help defend his country.
She knows the unending selfishness of the world and she knows that Zuko is not healed enough to handle it.
So, listening to her own blood simmering in her veins, the water-warrior slips from the mattress. She is bare-footed and her hair is hanging to her waist in tousled, damp strands; but there are still bones clicking in the braids against her skull and there are still bruises and scars lining her arms. She feels like herself, she thinks; and yet, she somehow feels more.
The water-girl opens one of the doors to the Fire Lord's chambers and ushers her brother in, casting suspicious looks down each hall before shutting it again and re-fastening the bolts. Sokka is properly beet-red when she turns back to him, his mouth pursed as if he had just bitten into a lemon.
"What?" Folding her arms, Katara frowns at her brother; he clears his throat awkwardly before speaking.
"Those aren't your robes." He manages thickly, gesturing off-handedly to the crimson silk draped about his sister's frame. Katara pauses for a moment before laughing and pointing to the pile of ruined armor off to the side.
"I took a bath. Zuko let me borrow some robes, mine are sort of scandalously torn to shreds." Chuckling dryly, the girl massages her temples for a moment and then starts to walk back to the Fire Lord's side. Her brother watches the way her eyes soften, watches the tense clench of her jaw loosen; he can see the slight tilt of her mouth as a smile begins. She curls into the chair Iroh had occupied earlier, hands gloved in water as she checks Zuko's vitals; Sokka watches with narrowed eyes as her hands skim the bare torso of the other teenager.
"Katara,"
She ignores her brother, instead listening to the steady rhythm of the Fire Lord's heart; she can feel the tissues mending under her hands, can feel the pulsing, rushing sound of his blood-
"Katara." Sokka says, louder this time, and she glances up. He is frowning at her, brow creased. She blinks in surprise at his expression.
"What is it?"
Mouth turning down severely, her brother motions for her to come closer to him. He sighs a little when she is close enough; he rubs his hand across his face and through his hair, mussing the wolf-tail.
"You're doing the thing." Sokka blurts, under his breath; she catches the messy whisper and almost laughs.
"The what?"
"The thing where you're all goo-goo eyes and ickiness. The Jet-Haru-bad-decision thing." Her brother, whispering fiercely, gesturing wildly and desperately now, looks slightly panicked. Katara drops her head into her hands and exhales before leveling a glare at him, magnanimously choosing to let his references to her exes go.
"Could you try to be more articulate, Sokka?" Pained, the girl flicks him slightly with a couple droplets of water and he rolls his eyes.
"You like him, Katara." He mutters lowly, and the sentence makes the water-girl flinch as if her brother has struck her.
"Shit, I knew it." He curses quietly under his breath, turning away from her and scrubbing both of his hands through his hair; he sighs a few times before collecting himself and facing her again. She is pink-faced and glossy-eyed, lower lip caught painfully between her teeth and her hands in fists by her sides. He suddenly understands how difficult this must be for her, and her brother reaches across the space between them to smooth the pads of his fingers across her shoulder as comfortingly as he can manage.
"Look, sis, you know I think Zuko is great. And you're great. And I'm sure you'll be great together. Whatever. You know. But did you have to pick the Fire Lord, Katara? You know this won't be easy for you." He folds his hands behind his head as she quivers, bracing himself for the fury he knows usually comes when she is upset. Part of him readies to dash from the room- in case she decides to freeze him to something- but instead, he tenses and waits.
Her eyes cast downward, instead, fingers picking at the edges of Zuko's robe.
"It's not like I chose this to happen, Sokka. It just sort of... did," Katara's hands fall uselessly to her sides, and he tries not to look surprised at her deflated reaction.
"I guess I just forgot what it felt like to be around someone that fits me so well." She murmurs, tugging at the ends of her hair and casting her eyes to the side. Sokka's glance softens.
he could see the emptiness in her eyes, the pain; he could hear her ragged sobs and feel the wrath as she screamed to the vast, white expanse of wasteland.
"I know you've been alone for a long time, Katara, and you've only had me to rely on. But these past couple of weeks, you've really started to mend, I think. You're starting to look more like yourself again," He pauses, smiling a little at the trueness of his statement because she has color in her cheeks again and a light in her eye that hadn't been there since before-
"What Aang did was wrong, and I know you've been hurting over it." The Water Tribe warrior extends his hand to his sister, which she takes; she squeezes it affectionately for a moment before steeling her expression.
"He's here, you know." She quips, sucking her cheeks in; Sokka can see a flash of fury in her expression.
"Who, Aang? Really? No one's seen him in months."
"And Toph."
"La, Katara. Have you seen them?" Sokka watches as the hatred rises to the girl's cheeks, watches as she cracks each individual knuckle in her fingers and suddenly he can see the bright, painful viciousness in her eyes that he had been used to mere weeks ago.
"They came to visit earlier," The words were a hiss between clenched teeth and she shudders a little, shedding the pain in her eyes and taking a deep breath before speaking again.
"I wasn't... um... I wasn't very pleasant." She is stammering now, eyes flicking to her brothers as she awaits his disapproval for her actions. Instead, he snorts; amusement plain on his face. A strange sort of whisper-laugh bursts from her mouth, then, as she realizes how absurd this situation was turning out to be.
"I doubt anybody would be pleasant with this kind of situation. I might have to hit him, for all the damage he caused." Sokka chuckled, a little darkly, and she felt the tension in her shoulders drop; relieved, she let herself laugh along with him.
"You weren't pleasant to who, Katara? I hope not a stray courtier this time." Zuko's voice drifts sleepily from the bed, and she jumps, startled, before rolling her eyes skyward and closing her fist over her hammering heart. Sokka barely conceals the laughter growing in his mouth.
"She was a royal bitch to our favorite bald monk, I believe. Who, I think, totally deserved it." He says, moving around his sister to greet the Fire Lord; the dark-haired, golden eyed boy is attempting to rise, shame coloring his face, but Sokka gently pushes the other boy back against his pillows and claims the seat next to him, clasping his pale, calloused hand in greeting.
"Relax. You're all injured and whatever." There is no mistaking the softness in the older boy's tone; Zuko catches it, catches the kindness in the way his blue eyes flit to his sister's and catches the small nod that passes between them.
he knows.
Zuko flushes, the tips of his ears gone red.
"Aang's here?" He asks quietly, fingers knotting in the sheets; he is refusing to look at the water-girl and she is struggling to keep herself calm. She can hear his pulse accelerating with fear and she hates that the boy made of fire is so distrustful; he burns so easily, she thinks, he can be so fragile.
but can't we all be fragile when our heart is in another's hands?
"He came by earlier. I may have... told him off." She swallows loudly, embarrassed, suddenly, at her lack of control regarding the bald monk. Zuko's eyes slant towards her, narrowed a little in confusion.
"What did you say to him?"
"I may have reprimanded him for going off on his soul-journey and leaving you here alone to deal with all of this mess." She sighed, crossing her arms; Zuko's eyes are on her now, the golden irises dancing with the afternoon glow. Much to her relief, his lips twitch in a semblance of a smile.
she is protecting him and he knows it; suddenly he wishes that her brother were not sitting next to him and suddenly he wishes he had better use of his legs so that he could go to her and pull her to him-
"It's super cute that you're all protective of our resident Hotman, Katara, but did you stop to think that baldy may have actually been here to help?" Sokka drawls, raising one eyebrow at his sister; his expression remaining amused. At Katara's stony expression, he scrambles for words.
"Uh... I mean it's pretty funny that you told him off, and all, but-"
"As much as I love that you told off the Avatar for my sake, I do believe we need him in our good graces." Zuko interrupts the Water Tribe warrior softly, his palms flattening on the crimson duvet in front of him; long, white fingers spread out in all directions.
he is so glad she does not want to leave him for the light footed Avatar-
"Eventually he'll find his way back here. And in the meantime, I think it's probably best if you find yourself some robes, Katara. Not that red is bad on you, but ya know, the implication-" Sokka lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
"-no offense, Fire Lord Hotman." He glances at Zuko, who also shrugs. His hair is falling into his eyes and Katara has to resist leaning across the great expanse of pillows to sweep the raven locks out of his face.
"None taken."
"So how do you suggest I make my way back to my rooms then, hmm?" Katara eyes the two teenagers skeptically, hands on her hips, and Zuko is trying really hard not to notice how her hips dip becomingly into her waist, and damn, red really does bring out the brightness of her eyes-
"Yeah, good question. Zuko?"
Recovering, the Fire Lord shakes his head somewhat before focusing and looking back at Sokka to try and knock himself out of staring at his sister.
"There's a tunnel system that moves from my room to several of the bedrooms through his hall. It won't go all the way to your quarters, Sokka, but it should extend to Katara's. The door is behind that tapestry." He gestures vaguely, jointly hating that Katara has to leave and also willing her to so that he isn't struggling to keep his eyes off of her.
"Alright. I'll go catch a nap. Come get me if anything happens, okay? And if nothing happens, wake me up for dinner." She pauses, then, catching her lower lip between her teeth and reaching for Zuko's hand.
"Don't kill each other." She squints at her brother meaningfully, who holds up his palms in innocence.
As soon as the water-girl drifts from the room and the door to the tunnels shuts heavily behind her, Zuko begins to struggle to push himself up in bed again. Sokka moves towards him, but the Fire Lord lifts his hand- no, I can do this myself- and he manages to throw his legs over the side of the bed and stand. Helping Katara with her armor earlier drained him, and his legs are shaking just the slightest; but he ignores the tired buzzing in his head and his limbs and slants a look at her brother.
"You know Katara would have a fit if she saw you standing up right now, man." Sokka comments wryly, and Zuko shrugs, leaning a little against his bedpost.
"She probably would, but I'm not about to have a conversation with a man I respect while I'm in bed," The Fire Lord smiles dimly before focusing, features sharpening and eyes darkening to seriousness. Sokka has to mask the surprise on his face at the compliment.
"My uncle tells me that they believe the attacks are stemming from a nobleman who is still loyal to my father's cause. He has some of my council members in his pockets. Uncle's been conducting an investigation of my staff over the past two days, and so far, it looks like roughly half of my guards are disloyal. The man that snuck into my rooms the other night was actually one of them." He rubs his face thoughtfully at the words, and Sokka sighs.
"As the plan-man, I believe that you should just fire all of their dumb noble butts and get yourself an actual council. With, you know, members like myself. I would say I'm pretty great with counseling. And plans. And stuff." Sokka says lightly, and Zuko frowns, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly as he hums thoughtfully under his breath.
"Well, I was considering asking you to be the liaison between our two Nations, Sokka. An ambassador, of sorts, considering you're next in line for Chief."
"Me? Wouldn't Katara be a better choice for that?" He looks mildly affronted at the possibility, and Zuko reminds himself that Sokka is juggling not only the lives of his future-people, but the lives of his sister, his girlfriend (who lives a lifetime away from his arms) and his friends.
"That's another thing I wanted to mention to you," Zuko says quietly, sucking in a low, deep breath through his teeth. Sokka has raised both of his eyebrows at the mention of his sister, and he leans forward, intrigued.
Zuko tries to ignore how one tanned hand rests pointedly on his boomerang, swallowing with obvious discomfort before speaking.
"I'm in love with your sister, Sokka. There's no point in masking it, not any more, especially when I've had so many near-death experiences lately to reflect on." The Fire Lord rushes through the sentences, blurting the words out as quickly as he can manage; he is leaning against the bedpost for strength, now, and he feels like he may be sick.
There is a painful, awkward silence that seems to stretch on for far too long before either of them make any sort of movement.
And then Sokka laughs.
Loudly.
Bent double, wheezing, palms flat on his knees, the water tribe warrior is full-on guffawing at the Fire Lord.
Shocked, Zuko flushes, mouth agape like a fish; but Sokka holds up his hand and tries to gain control of the snorts and chuckles escaping him. Attempting to remain looking slightly regal, Zuko straightens his spine; he is mildly offended.
is he not worthy of her? is he not enough?
"Look, dude, I've always known you had a thing for my sister." Wiping at a tear escaping his eye, Sokka rubs at his nose and sighs the last of his laughter out in between him and the other teenage boy.
"You're kidding me," Zuko deadpans. "Did anyone else notice..?"
"Like Aang? Dude, who knows. When he left Katara, he certainly wasn't concerned about who else would wife her up," Sokka crosses his arms across his chest, smirking wryly; he is sure that Toph could tell, but the Fire Lord doesn't need to know that.
"It's all good, man. I just didn't know until today that she had a thing for you, too. Which is good. I think. But you gotta know that she's had a rough time this past year-"
"I know, and I'm willing to do what it takes to help her heal," Zuko interrupts the water-warrior, his eyes slanting with a sudden sternness. Sokka nods slowly.
"I know you're not Hakoda, but I figured that I would send word to him that I... I would like to ask for Katara's hand. I know it's really soon- we haven't even really gotten a chance to spend time together- but I just know." Impassioned, the Fire Lord stands a little straighter, and Sokka can see for the first time in their friendship that Zuko is taller than he is. There's a stubborn slant to his jaw that the Water Tribe warrior remembers from his days of chasing them around the globe, and he almost smiles.
There is also a hint of the awkward teen still peeking out from beneath the surface; Sokka can see that the tips of Zuko's ears are red. His hands are fumbling awkwardly, uselessly; the Fire Lord pockets them after a few moments.
This makes Sokka beam with a grin, and he nods in acknowledgement.
"You're a good man, Zuko. I was proud to fight beside you in the great war, and I know you'll take care of her. Hell, the past six weeks she's looked better here than she ever did down in the South Pole. You've made her smile again." He leans forward and claps the other boy on the shoulder, a motion that nearly knocks the weakened Fire Lord to the floor. Zuko's knees feel weak with relief at the positive reaction from the water tribe boy.
"But as a brotherly disclaimer, which, you know, I have to put out there- you ever hurt her, and I swear to the Spirits that I'll knock the fire right out of you. She's been through hell." He cautions, eyes suddenly serious; they are twin, blue slits, and in them, Zuko can see the pain of a year spent with a sister who could barely get herself up in the morning. He sees the chill of the South and the pain of watching Katara wither away in the frozen wasteland; he can nearly feel the ache of her brother's heart.
"Of course, Sokka." Zuko says quietly, massaging his palms together and leaning back against the bed frame. He tilts his skull back against the dark mahogany, and suddenly Sokka can see the tiredness bruising his eyes; the heavy way his chest rises and falls with breath, as if he'd expended his energy for the day.
"I do have to say that I'm not sure now is quite the time, buddy. I mean, you've been almost murdered a dozen times. Who's to say you'll survive until the wedding?" Sokka grins at the other boy cheekily.
The Fire Lord sighs, raking his hands through his hair. He allows himself a brief twitch of the lips to acknowledge Sokka's joke before his shoulders curve with sudden weariness.
"Right now isn't a great time for any of this, obviously. She's in danger just for associating herself with me. Luckily, she's more than capable of defending herself; but all the same, I've sent for the Kyoshi Warriors to come for a few months. I trust them implicitly to guard both myself, Katara, and yourself while you're still here. I'm sure you'll be happy to see Suki, at any rate." Smiling lopsidedly, the Fire Lord watches as Sokka's face explodes in red patches.
"...Suki is coming here?"
"They'll be here within the week. I'm sure they'll be happy to look after you while my Uncle and I investigate who is to blame for all of these attacks." Zuko regards Sokka with a knowing glance, and the Water Tribe warrior claps his hands together in eagerness before releasing a whoop of excitement.
All the while, Katara stands just behind the door to the secret passageway; face flushed bright red at the sound of Zuko's admission of feelings. She can feel her heart thundering in her chest and she can feel the pulsing of Zuko's blood as intimately as if he were standing beside her.
could she dare to hope that she had some chance at happiness? did she deserve it, after all she had done?
She crumples against the stone wall, fist pressed to her mouth; tears bubbling at the corners of her eyes. She is all at once horrified and elated, her stomach churning with the remembrance of how it felt to be kissed by the Fire Lord; how she felt her soul turn to ash underneath his calloused hands.
She remembers how her heart had felt full of ice when she had arrived, remembers the stiffness of her embrace and the chill of her every glance. She cannot believe in just a few precious weeks she has begun to thaw; can she truly allow herself this?
happy october, all! fall is my favorite season.
please let me know how you liked this chapter! I always love hearing from you guys.
xo,
nightfall26