Sunshine shone through the high arched windows of Cress's bedroom. She had forgotten to close the velvet curtains the night before and now the golden light pierced the large crystal chandelier in the center of the room, peppering it with rainbow confetti. The shards of light danced across Cress's face, causing her to stir.
She shifted in her bed and for the split second before her brain could wake up, panic set in. Her eyes fluttered open. Instead of the smooth grey walls of the Rampion, she was greeted by a lofty room swathed in ivory and lavender, filled with furniture sitting on spindly golden legs. Cress relaxed when she remembered she was at Artemisia Palace and all of her friends were down the hall in their own equally extravagant rooms.
She and Thorne had arrived in Artemisia late the night before. A last minute schedule shuffle had them scrambling to finish a delivery before they could head out to Luna. For the past year, the Rampion had made dozens of trips back and forth between Earth and Luna, but this trip was special. There was nowhere else imaginable they would rather be than with their friends on the one year anniversary of the Lunar Revolution. They wouldn't have missed it for the world.
Everyone had stayed up to greet them at the docks and to share a midnight dinner, despite the fact that most of them had arrived to Artemisia earlier that day and half of them had early morning meetings and a full day of events ahead of them. Laying there now, Cress couldn't remember how she even made it to her room, let alone changed into pajamas and tucked into bed.
She let her head sink back onto her pillow and sighed. If she hadn't known any better, she could have sworn she was resting on a cloud draped in silk. She let herself stretch languidly and took stock of the room she did not have a chance to examine the night before.
It was a happy surprise when she realized it was the same room she was given after the war, the same room where she had healed and her scars had begun to fade.
Memories of long, leisurely turns around the gardens and soft, goodnight kisses came rushing back. There was secret hand-holding under the dinner table and not so secret smiles shared across the drawing room. There was the evening when Thorne kissed her under the stars when they slipped away to a private balcony, only to realize it wasn't private at all and instead, gave their friends a pre-dinner show. Cress blushed now, remembering the whoops and cheers from across the court yard, but that hadn't embarrassed Thorne one bit. He had simply bowed graciously to his audience and pulled Cress closer for another kiss.
That was Thorne, through and through — fearless, unstoppable. She liked to think that she now was, too. After a year with Thorne, with her friends, traveling the globe twice over, she had finally realized that she no longer had to fantasize or pretend to be someone else. Somehow, she had become everything she ever wanted to be; had everything she had ever wished for.
She used to dream of living in a treehouse, but living in a spaceship was much more exciting and afforded much better views. She used to dream of being a world famous opera singer, but her captivated audience of one was equally as thrilling. She used to dream of being an explorer, setting courageously off into the wild unknown, but now she was a well-seasoned traveler and there were cafe owners in Paris and street vendors in Istanbul who knew her by name. She used to dream of belonging somewhere and now she had a family and with it, a home.
Cress cast her eyes upwards. It was the perfect day for remembrance and even though she had grown up fearing Luna, she was glad she was here today.
As if the palace could hear her thoughts, a knock came from the door.
It must be one of the palace maids well into her morning routine, but Cress wasn't ready to get up yet. Not yet, when she was in the middle of being grateful for everything she had. Not yet, when she was only now able to fully appreciate the cool silk bedding gliding against her legs. It was only now, with the sunlight fully encasing the room that she could make out the celestial pattern embroidered in gold and silver thread that dusted the fabric lined canopy of her four-poster bed.
No, she was not ready to get up yet, but that didn't stop the second round of rapping on her door.
Tap, tap, tap.
Cress sunk deeper into the bed. Perhaps the maid could come back later. She would even make the bed herself for throwing the maid off her schedule. She was on vacation after all. No one would fault her for staying in bed for an extra thirty minutes.
As if the maid disagreed with this reasoning, the door cracked open and someone slipped in.
Cress let out a soft sigh and made a show of turning her back and pulling the covers up to her face. Surely the maid would get the hint now.
She waited for the girl to shuffle out, but instead, she heard a breathless chuckle and someone tiptoeing towards her. Before she had a chance to turn around, the bed shifted with the weight of the intruder and the familiar scent of leather and tropical citrus hair mousse wafted towards her.
Cress buried her face into the miraculously soft pillow to stifle a giggle. Leave it to Thorne to make sure his hair was perfectly coiffed first thing in the morning.
He must have heard her because an arm reached underneath the covers and snaked over to land softly around her midsection and tow her backwards.
A surprised gasp escaped her mouth and Thorne answered with another amused chuckle. Cress bristled and gave the blankets a firm tug. She couldn't say she was surprised that Thorne had the audacity to barge into her bedroom and disrupt her sleep. But she could ignore him and not give him the satisfaction.
With her eyes still closed, she silently counted to ten, wondering when he'd give up. Although, if she were being completely honest, her current predicament wasn't so bad. Thorne was close enough now that Cress could feel his breath, warm and steady, against her neck. And being back in this room made her think of the time, almost exactly a year ago to the day, that they had laid in this bed and shared "I love you's."
It was enough to make Cress sigh with content and she wondered if Thorne was thinking the exact same thing, because his grip around her midsection tightened ever so slightly and he pressed a soft kiss against her bare shoulder.
Her skin erupted in gooseflesh and she held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next. He paused a heartbeat. Two. Then he pulled her just a little bit closer and kissed her shoulder a second time, and a third.
Cress felt herself melt and then she felt Thorne's smile against her skin. Her spine tingled and her stomach fluttered. She would have been content to stay like that all morning, with her fingers entwined with his and his chin nestled in the crook of her neck if it weren't for the tug in her chest. It was that tug that made her let out a happy sigh and then, ever so slowly, pull away from Thorne so that she could turn around to face him.
When Cress finally drew her eyes up to meet Thorne's, the grin he gave her made her a bit dizzy. He was still in his pajamas — worn cotton bottoms and a white t-shirt — but there was something about him that made her heart beat twice as fast. Maybe it was the way his eyes seemed twice as blue or twinkle twice as brightly than usual, but they put the glittery bed canopy to shame.
Thorne leaned forward half an inch and Cress stilled. It was as if time was waiting with baited breath along with her. He paused for a second, looking almost hesitant, then reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face with his index finger. Cress closed her eyes and felt him press a tender kiss onto her forehead. As he eased back, Cress felt herself blush from the top of her head, down to her pinky toes.
In the past month or so, Thorne had begun giving her good morning forehead kisses, but those little pecks had always been when they were passing each other on the way to the bathroom or galley, or before he sat down in the pilot's seat in the cockpit. They had never felt intimate, until now.
Cress looked at him and was surprised to see the flush in his cheeks. She could feel her own growing warm.
The corner of Thorne's mouth twitched upwards, just enough for his dimples to make an appearance. "Hi," he said, but it was much too soft and breathy for any real sound to come out.
"Hi," Cress answered, equally as quiet, which made Thorne grin.
Feeling bold, Cress brought up her hand to lay onto Thorne's cheek. His smile made his morning stubble tickle the inside of her palm and she gently traced the crinkles around his mouth and eyes with her fingertips. Thorne closed his eyes and brought his hand up to cup hers.
A tiny giggle escaped Cress's mouth and Thorne smiled at her amusement.
He held her hand against his cheek for a second before giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled again, closed his eyes, and pulled Cress's hand towards his mouth. One by one, he pressed the tip of each of her fingers to his lips and one by one the butterflies in her stomach fluttered. When he finally got to her pinky, he gave it two soft kisses and then pulled their hands down to rest on his chest.
The cotton of his t-shirt was worn to the perfect softness and Cress made a mental note to borrow it soon. She wondered if he could hear her thoughts because Thorne grinned again, eyes still closed, and gave her hand a soft squeeze, holding it close against him.
Cress smiled to herself and watched her hand being sandwiched between Thorne's heart and his hand. She could feel his heartbeat through the thin cotton and with the warmth of his hand cupping hers, she felt the steady drumming through her entire body.
As if it were a call to arms, Cress felt emboldened. She inched her body forward, close enough to feel Thorne's warmth radiating off of him, but far enough apart that they were still only holding hands. Thorne cracked an eye open and raised a curious eyebrow.
Cress felt herself blush, but she did not pull away.
Thorne watched her for a second, two, and then he reached over to twirl one of her curls. They both watched as the lock of hair danced around his finger.
Like a waltz, Cress thought.
When the twirling stopped, Thorne leaned in closer and Cress stilled herself for a kiss, but instead, he pressed the curl to his lips. Cress felt herself deflate, but before she could get too disappointed, Thorne ran his fingers through her hair and let his hand trail down her jaw. He cupped her face and she tilted her head back in anticipation. She felt her heart banging against her chest and was sure he could hear it, too.
Thorne leaned in, pausing for just a moment before touching his lips to Cress's. The kiss was surprisingly delicate, as if he was caught in a moment of uncertainty, but when Cress's lips urged him forward, Thorne leaned into it, parting his lips ever so slightly to drag against hers.
Her skin tingled and when she raised her hand to touch his jaw, her fingertips felt like they were on fire. She let out a soft sound of pure euphoria and he gave her another quick kiss before pulling away, a grin wide on his face.
Cress's smile mirrored Thorne's and she closed her eyes blissfully as Thorne's fingertips began to trail down her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, her arm. She imaged they were the Rampion and her skin was the universe splayed out for exploration — every inch, light years apart; every freckle, an unknown planet. It was fitting that they were laying beneath a canvas of stars.
Cress sighed happily as Thorne's fingertips traced hidden patterns along her skin and shivered whenever he caressed the ticklish spot by her elbow. He traced the outline of a heart on her shoulder and connected the freckles along her collar bone. He drew curly-q's on her back and ran each fingertip up and down the length of her ribs.
It was a comforting touch, an anchoring one. It made her feel tethered down to something solid and dependable. It was a touch that thrilled her and soothed her, that made her feel never alone, and made her feel like she was the only thing in the universe.
Thorne laid a resting hand on Cress's hip and let his thumb caress the stripe of exposed skin between her shorts and her tank top. He grazed her skin with the pad of his thumb, first with short back and forth motions and then gently drawing lazy circles onto her hip and then her stomach. Cress was nearly lulled back to sleep when Thorne's hand stopped. The pause felt too long, too abrupt, and then Cress knew why.
Thorne ran the pad of his thumb tenderly across the ridges of a scar. The touch was so delicate, it was almost as if he was afraid he was going to hurt her.
Cress often forgot it was even there. Thanks to the stasis pod and the deft hands of her Artemisian surgeons, the stripe of hard, raised skin wasn't worse, but it was still there and still very visible. If she were a more vain person, she might have been bothered by it, but she wasn't.
Sometimes when she caught herself in the bathroom's mirror getting out of the shower, it would surprise her, but there was a part of her that took pride in it. It was a badge she wore proudly — one that reminded her that she was a survivor.
Cress opened her eyes to find that Thorne's were closed, a deep crease sat between his eyebrows. She brought her hand up to his face to soothe the worry away. He was being stubborn and resisted her comforting.
It wasn't until she let out a little huff, that he opened his eyes and his face was full of torment. She stroked his cheek and when he opened his mouth, an apology on his tongue, Cress shook her head.
She refused to let him apologize. Not for this, not for something that he was forced against his will to do. He had no choice. He couldn't have fought it, even though he had tried so hard to. Her memory of the event was fuzzy and she was glad for it, but she remembered that he had called her name with so much pain and anguish that she wasn't sure who had hurt whom. No, he had no choice. It wasn't as though he had decided too…
She glanced at his right hand. Propping his head up, it was half hidden by his hair. Like with her own scar, more often than not, she forgot about Thorne's cybernetics. It was easy to since the only physical evidence was something that resembled an odd looking tan line where his real skin and the synthetic merged.
It was easy to forget about his cyborg fingers until he had to flex his hand to shake out the stillness, or strain himself during a rough landing because he still wasn't used to gripping the yolk as hard as he needed to.
Her eyes began to well up instantly, and before the first tears could fall, Thorne was cupping her face with both his hands to quell them away.
The fact that he was now comforting her was too much, and despite Thorne's best efforts, a tear slipped down Cress's nose to land on her silken pillow with a plop. The sound was much too loud for the stillness of the room and it shook them both out of their own self-pity.
Thorne circled Cress with his arms, pulling her close against his chest as he made soothing noises into her hair. She wiped her nose onto his shirt, which made the both of them laugh, and then nestled it in the hollow at the base of his neck.
They laid there, silently, taking turns to rub each other's back or exchange a kiss on the cheek, the nose, the lips. They took turns brushing hair away from each other's faces and playing connect the freckles. Thorne nuzzled Cress's neck with his nose and Cress hummed one of her favorite Lunar lullabies.
It hadn't been the morning that Cress had expected when she woke up, but then again, her whole life had unfolded in such spectacularly unpredictable ways — all those fantasies of heroics and exploits, true love and intrigue, they weren't frivolous or fool hearty. They had simply been preparing her for a life filled with adventure and romance.
As they laid there, Cress wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Thorne's breathing became slow and even. Cress cast her eyes upward to glance at the canopy of glittery stars. By now, the sun had shifted and the room was no longer splattered with fragments of light. Instead, it was filled with a warm honey glow.
Cress couldn't help but make the comparison to her own life. How quickly had all the shattered pieces of her existence come together and formed a world of warmth and happiness? Sure, it hadn't been easy, but nothing worth fighting for ever was. And she had fought for it. She had the scars to prove it.
They both did.
Beyond the bedroom door, Cress could hear footsteps muffled by the plush hallway carpet. Perhaps it was Cinder off to one of her morning meetings, or Wolf and Scarlet in search of breakfast, or perhaps the maids had finally reached this portion of the palace.
Cress turned back to Thorne, his eyes were closed and his breathing was steady and comforting. She let out a sigh of contentment, tucked her head under Thorne's chin, and closed her eyes.
A/N: Thank you as always to the wonderful zissa for beta'ing and helping me through this. I hope you all liked the conclusion of WTSGB. And also, part III is dedicated to the beautiful and talented shanlightyear. Happy birthday, darling!