Disclaimer: Don't own. Happy?

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I'm going to marry him.

I know that. He knows that. Everyone knows that.

I have to marry him. I have the Dragon Eyes, I have his trust, I have his friendship. And he has Lykouleon's blood, he has the Light Sword, he has everyone's unconditional love. Including mine.

He is the King and I will be his Queen. It's as simple as that.

But at the same time, it's not. He has to go and make it complicated.

The library is filled with stifled moans and old dead leafs.

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I've seen them before; doing it behind the garden wall, in the library, in the high tower; hush-hush abandoned dust-gathering places where their strictly taboo activities won't be discovered. He thinks that they're being discreet, being secretive.

Rath and Thatz, sittin' in a tree (for all the world to see), f-u-c-k-i-n-g...

Rath and Cesia, sittin' in a tree (for all the world to see), p-r-e-t-e-n-ding...

Sometimes it makes me want to throttle him. And if I do, he thinks I'm joking. I'm not.

Sometimes it makes me want to come.

I will marry him, one day.

I see the looks he gives me at the dining table, see the little smiles he gives Thatz, see the way he blushes when Thatz teases him, see the way their hugs are just a little too intimate to be friendly, see the way their relationship is ruled by secrecy.

The funny thing is, no one else notices. No one seems to know that Rath gives me no more affection that he would his favorite goldfish. No one else seems to be aware of how tired they both are when they come down to breakfast in the morning. No one else climbs all four hundred (and sixty-two) steps the tower to watch them fuck.

Maybe they're oblivious. Or maybe they're in denial. They should be angry. Upset. They should have confronted him by now.

I should be angry. Upset. I should have confronted him by now.

I spend my most of my evenings in the library, amongst the dead leafs and stifled moans.

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Almost every night, they can be found in the library, a place where few people go. Occasionally, they'll go somewhere else, just for variety. Tonight the place is the garden. I know; I follow Rath's shadowy silhouette through the dark hallways. He walks quickly, and doesn't wear shoes; the soft socks make less noise than those clunky boots he usually wears. Even so, I can hear the slight shuffling of his feet on the stone floor, the swish of his clothing, his soft breathing.

The hallway is cold, and I forgot my sweater.

There's a flight of stairs; and here I have to be careful. If I should fall, if I should trip, then I would be discovered, and I don't want to be found.

At the end of the flight of stairs, there's a doorway, old and rusted with age and disuse. I've never taken this route to the gardens, and I doubt many have. I move quickly to keep up, and slip through the door after Rath.

The night is warm and illuminated with billions of tiny stars; holes in the blanket of heaven. The light scent of flowers covers the air, and in the distance a fountain gurgles. He navigates the pathways like a drunken man, stumbling in the dark. Eventually he tumbles off the path and disappears into a grove of cherry trees.

I am slow and cautious to follow. I have to crawl on my hands and knees, staining my white night shift with thick, dew-damp dirt.

Thatz is already there, lying on the grass, asleep. Rath mutters something and chuckles, before he kicks Thatz in the stomach. Thatz swears and sits up, looking expectantly at Rath. The silence is so thick you couldn't cut it with the Light Sword.

And then they're at it- a tangled web of spread legs and entwined limbs and collarbone kisses and quiet moans.

Oh, oh, oh.

I will marry him one day.

I don't envy Thatz, because one day I will be Thatz. I will be in the same position as him, being showered with kisses and soft moans and passion. And I will be married to Rath. I will win.

Rath prods a hand under Thatz's shirt, slowly stroking his stomach, biting his ear. Thatz arches gracefully underneath him, needing to be closer. He unbuckles Rath's belt.

Under my knee, a twig snaps. I bite back a whispered curse. The library is much easier to navigate; to hide in.

Rath kisses Thatz's belly button.

I place my hand in the wrong spot, a small branch buckles under the pressure. The two are too enraptured with each other to notice.

I briefly wonder if Rath ever notices me.

The answer comes quickly. He has to notice me. He has to.

Rath takes Thatz in his mouth.

The garden is filled with new, living leaves and barely-supressed moans.

I will marry him someday.

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