Prompt: #39 Slash

Summary: Some things are mightier than the sword.

A/N: This is a stand alone.

Scribo is Latin for "to write, compose."

Scribo

As a fighter, he relied on his sword to get him through his battles. He depended on always having one with him. It was very convenient that his sword was not one that he had to carry all the time. His powers made sure to provide him with a large collection of swords, depending on his preference at any particular moment. This was especially useful since the majority of the time, he was attacked at inconvenient times. It was not to be believed that he was any less deadly without a sword, but he was just much more proficient with one in his hand. A sword in one's hand was a warning as well as a threat. One did not need to speak, but only had to have a firm grasp on the hilt of one to convey a very pointed message. That suited him very well considering he did not like to waste his breathe in verbally issuing any sort of warning. That always seemed rather stupid to him. The swords swirling around him like a tornado and the quick revying sound when he had selected one should be sufficient enough. One could call it part of the universal language. There was no mistaking his intentions.

When he was not in battle and when he was not putting up a façade to mask his true nature, he was shy. It was not that words did not come easily to him. He could find what he needed to say very effortlessly. It was that he was not used to showing people what he really was. Intimacy on any level with strangers always left him uneasy. At times, it was hard for even him to know the person that he was inside. So used to being someone else, it was sometimes difficult to separate the lie from the truth. The only times he felt like his own self was when he was with his friends. Only they knew who he really was and it was only with them that he could be that. Still, even with them, there were things that he could never share. The things that he could do. The power that he could wield. Those things were not things that they could ever truly understand about him. True, they had seen him in action many times. They had witnessed he fought countless times before, but they did not possess the same level of skill he was gifted with. They were more like observers than active sharers when it came to his gifts. It need also be brought out that he was also their prince. This too made him feel different from them. A little set apart, even though he hated to factor that in. There had never been anyone who could match him on either levels and so there was always something he needed to keep to himself.

It was not until he had met Stella, that he even felt the need to be himself with someone else. As soon as he had seen her it was as if something was falling into place. There was a curious rightness to her. He had tested her. It was something that he constantly needed to do and often did unconsciously. The results had been pleasant. She had surprised him. Unlike anyone else he had ever met, she was open and bright and playful. She was not shy and it was easy to get into a sort of banter with her. Though it had made him a little uncomfortable and a little uneasy when she so casually brought up seeing the light. He had hidden his surprise that she had even known about it, let alone could see it as he did. She had a carefree nature that he was not very used to but found refreshing.

From that very first encounter, he knew that their lives would be intertwined. He had been confident that not only would they meet again, they would come to mean something to each other. For the first time, he found himself looking forward to such a thing happening. The things that had happened between then and now were nothing short of trying. Simple attraction had turned into complicated emotions. The things that they had encountered. The things that they had been forced to do and lived through. Nothing between them was simple anymore. One thing was blatantly clear. Stella was the only person who could truly be his equal. If he had learned nothing else from the journey they had just endured, he had learned that. So, it would not be a surprise to find that he could not think of the right words that would fully emphasize what he wanted to say to her now. He had tried to speak to her many times already but he found the only words that ran through his mind were inadequate. He ended up having to leave her standing there with a confused expression on her lovely face.

When it came to fighting, he was focused and sure. There was no hesitation and there was no second guessing. He did what he needed to do and he was very good at it. There had not been a battle he had not eventually won. Fighting was not complicated. Fighting was very simple. With one slash of a sword, you could change everything. That was all there was to it. Finding the right words to say to Stella were not that simple. He was hesitating. He was second guessing. He was not very good at this. Where were those elaborate words and phrases that he as a Prince had been forced to learn from infancy? None of them sounded right. Some of them were just too flowery for his tastes. He merely wanted to convey a simple message. It needed to be simple when everything else around them was so complicated.

It seemed so far fetched in his warrior mind that a slash of his pen seemed to have more power than a slash of his sword. Speaking was proving too much of a difficulty, so he had decided he would write it down instead. A written note would not be fumbled and rushed and stuttered ineloquently. There would be no mistakes and no backing down once his words were expressed through his quill. When he was finished, he made sure to leave his note in a place easily found by only Stella. With this entire act, he thought it more terrifying than any battle that he had ever fought. A simple pen was his only weapon to deliver the blow.

Later, when Stella found the small note in her bag, the message within was simple, forward and it shot right to her heart. It consisted of only one line.

I love you.