Dear readers! Thank you for reading this story and please let me know how you like it! Here comes a new chapter!
PinkOdangos: Yes, yes! I totally agree! I am so happy that is how you saw Endymion and Seiya acting because that was in my mind as I wrote the chapter. Somehow make Endymion collected, cool headed (even if he is not) but not arrogant and Seiya a bit overreacting! I am happy it was seen like that!
Starbrellaaa: thank you again for your review! It always helps me see if what I intended with the story really was felt and seen! Actually the short interaction between Endymion and Kunzite was added as I reviewed the chapter last minute because I also thought it would be small but meaningful! For some reason I really like Kunzite as a supportive character! I can really see how not only Endymion and Seiya would "clash" but Kunzite and Seiya absolutely! About what has happened with Serenity with time we will find out about it I promise – this story is also drafted till the end so it will be absolutely finished :-) To be absolutely honest besides this and Between Duty and Love there are 2 other stories already completely drafted and 2 more on-going!
Chapter 9 - Echoes of the Heart
Endymion hesitated, his hand hovering in the air for a brief moment before he extended it toward her. He knew how much rested on this gesture—how one misstep might push her further away. The slight tremor in his breath was imperceptible, but the weight of his longing was not. "May I?" he asked gently.
Serenity hesitated, her gaze dropping to his outstretched hand. There was something in the gesture that felt familiar, though she couldn't place why. Slowly, she placed her hand in his, the warmth of his touch sending a strange sense of calm through her.
"Do you feel anything?" he asked softly, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice trembling. "It's like… there's a fog in my mind. When I look at you, I feel… something. But I don't know what it is."
Endymion's grip on her hand tightened slightly, his voice filled with quiet determination. "Then we'll take this one step at a time. I won't rush you. I just want to help you find yourself again."
Her lips parted slightly at the sincerity in his tone. A faint blush rose to her cheeks, and she nodded. "Thank you," she whispered, her words as soft as the light brushing through the stained-glass windows.
Kunzite watched from a distance, his sharp eyes observing the exchange with quiet satisfaction. Despite the tension between the Earth delegation and the Starlights, this moment felt like the beginning of something significant. The bond between Serenity and Endymion was still there, even if her memories were not. And that, he knew, was a foundation they could build upon.
Seiya, however, saw the moment differently. His breath caught as Serenity reached out, her fingers brushing against Endymion's hand. A sharp pang of something—anger? Fear?—shot through him, settling like a stone in his chest. He wanted to step between them, to pull her back, to tell her she didn't need to trust this man just because he claimed to know her. But the look in her eyes, the faint blush on her cheeks—it stopped him. For the first time in weeks, she looked… alive. And it terrified him.
The silence stretched, soft and tentative, before Endymion tilted his head slightly, his tone lightening as he spoke. "May I ask you something, Serenity?"
She blinked at him, startled but curious. "Of course."
"What's your favorite flower?" His question was simple, almost inconsequential, yet the sincerity in his tone made it clear he genuinely wanted to know.
Serenity's brow furrowed slightly as she thought about it. "I… I don't know," she admitted, a trace of frustration slipping into her voice. "I feel like I should have an answer, but nothing comes to mind."
Endymion's smile remained steady, unshaken by her uncertainty. "That's all right. I didn't mean to pressure you."
She looked at him, surprised by his understanding. "Why do you ask?" she ventured, her voice soft.
"Because I want to get to know you," he said simply. "Not just the person you were, but the person you are now." He paused, his smile turning playful. "Though, if you're struggling to decide, I have it on good authority that roses were once a favorite of yours."
"Roses?" she repeated, the word unfamiliar yet strangely comforting on her tongue. "Why roses?"
"Maybe it was their beauty," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Or maybe it was their resilience. Either way, I remember you loved them."
Serenity's lips curved into a faint smile, her curiosity sparking. "Do you have a favorite flower?"
Endymion chuckled softly, his deep voice filling the quiet space between them. "I've never been asked that before," he admitted. "But if I had to choose, I'd say sunflowers."
"Sunflowers?" she echoed, her silver brows lifting in surprise. "I wouldn't have guessed that."
"Why not?" His smile widened, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"I don't know," she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "You seem more… composed. I'd have thought you'd pick something elegant and understated. Like a lily."
He laughed then, a warm and genuine sound that lit up his features. "I suppose I can be elegant when I need to be," he conceded, "but there's something about sunflowers that I've always admired. They're bright, vibrant. No matter how dark things get, they always turn toward the light."
Her smile softened, her fingers relaxing slightly in his grasp. "That's… beautiful," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe.
Endymion's expression softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender. "It's true of more than just sunflowers, Serenity."
She met his gaze, her silver eyes searching his for a moment before she looked away, warmth spreading across her cheeks. "I think I'd like to see one someday," she said quietly. "A sunflower."
"I'll make sure of it," he promised, his voice steady with quiet determination.
The conversation lingered for a moment, a fragile stillness settling between them. Then, Endymion leaned slightly closer, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Serenity," he said gently, his tone both tentative and warm, "would you feel comfortable if we spoke alone? Just for a little while. Without all the… watchful eyes."
His lips quirked into a subtle smile as he glanced sideways toward Kunzite and the Starlights, who were each positioned like sentinels, their tension palpable. "It feels like there's enough tension in this room to keep a warship afloat," he added in a mock-serious tone. "If looks could kill, Kunzite and your Starlight friends might have ended each other by now."
Serenity blinked at the unexpected comment and instinctively turned her gaze toward the Starlights and Kunzite. The tension between them was almost suffocating. Seiya's arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his sharp eyes fixed on Endymion like a hawk watching for the slightest misstep. Taiki's lips were pressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed in cautious analysis as if he were calculating the probabilities of trust. Yaten stood slightly to the side, his silver hair gleaming as his narrowed eyes darted between Endymion and Serenity, his body radiating sharp distrust. Even Kunzite, though outwardly composed, held himself with a stillness that felt like a coiled spring, his sharp gaze unwavering as it rested on the Starlights with a faint edge of disdain.
For a moment, Serenity saw them all as Endymion must have: two opposing forces, neither willing to yield. The sheer ridiculousness of it struck her suddenly. Here they were, all meant to protect her, yet the only thing they seemed ready to battle was each other. She thought of Endymion's calm remark, and suddenly, the truth of his words—the absurdity of the situation—bubbled up inside her.
A soft, musical giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it. The sound was light, pure, and unguarded, and it rippled through the tense atmosphere like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
Every pair of eyes in the room turned toward her, stunned.
Seiya's expression immediately tightened, his protective instincts flaring as his gaze flicked sharply to Endymion, irritation clear in the furrow of his brow. His lips pressed into a thin line, his hands clenching slightly at his sides as though he wanted to step forward but restrained himself. This was unfamiliar territory, and the sound of Serenity's laughter—a sound he hadn't heard too often—hit him harder than he wanted to admit.
Taiki, ever the pragmatist, blinked in surprise. He exchanged a quick glance with Yaten, his normally composed demeanor momentarily slipping as his eyebrows lifted. While he didn't say anything, his lips parted slightly, as if to question what had just happened, before he composed himself again. The sound of Serenity laughing had caught him off guard—not just because it was unexpected, but because it seemed to resonate in a way he couldn't quite explain.
Yaten's reaction was less subtle. His silver brows shot up, his usually sharp gaze softening for a fleeting moment as his arms uncrossed and dropped to his sides. "What was that?" he muttered under his breath, almost incredulously, as though he couldn't believe the sound had come from Serenity, who had been so quiet and reserved since they found her. A flicker of jealousy or irritation crossed his face, though it wasn't directed at Serenity—it was aimed squarely at Endymion, who had managed to break through the walls she didn't even realize she'd built.
Even Kunzite's stoic mask cracked slightly. His sharp silver eyes widened just a fraction, his head tilting almost imperceptibly as he absorbed the moment. He had expected Serenity to be hesitant, perhaps even wary, around Endymion. But laughter? That was not something he had anticipated. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his features—small and fleeting, but there nonetheless—as though this tiny victory solidified his faith in their connection.
For a fleeting moment, Endymion's mind slipped back to the countless times he had heard her laugh before—the way it would light up even the most somber of days, drawing everyone around her into its warmth. Hearing it now, after so much time, after so much uncertainty, felt like finding a single star in a dark and endless sky. It was a reminder of everything he had fought to protect—and everything he was willing to fight for again.
Serenity, catching herself, placed a hand over her mouth, her cheeks tinged pink as she glanced at Endymion. "I'm sorry," she whispered, though her lips still curved into a faint smile. "I don't know where that came from."
Endymion's expression softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth that seemed to anchor the moment. "Don't apologize," he said quietly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "It's been far too long since I've heard that sound."
His words carried a weight that Serenity didn't fully understand, but the way he looked at her—as though her laughter was the most precious thing he'd ever heard—made her chest tighten. Her fingers fidgeted slightly, and she glanced down, unsure how to respond.
The room remained quiet, the weight of the moment sinking in for everyone present.
Seiya shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to look away from Serenity and Endymion. He didn't trust this—didn't trust the ease with which Endymion had drawn something so vulnerable, so unguarded, out of her. It gnawed at him, stirring feelings he didn't want to examine too closely.
Yaten let out a soft, almost inaudible huff, crossing his arms again. "I didn't know he came here to audition for a comedy troupe," he muttered, the sarcasm in his voice failing to mask the faint unease in his expression.
Taiki glanced between Serenity and Endymion, his analytical mind struggling to process what had just happened. He wasn't sure whether to feel hopeful or suspicious. But one thing was clear: Endymion had managed to reach her in a way none of them had. That fact, whether good or bad, was undeniable.
Serenity's eyes flickered with confusion, but also with something deeper—a sense of trust she couldn't explain. She looked at Endymion, studying his face for a moment before nodding. "I don't remember you," she admitted, her voice soft, "but… I feel like I can trust you. I don't know why, but I just do."
Endymion's smile deepened, and he nodded, his voice soft but resolute. "That's enough for me. Would you like to take a walk in the garden? I've heard you love them, and I've always thought they're the perfect place to talk."
Serenity tilted her head slightly, a faint curiosity sparking in her eyes. "I do love the gardens," she said thoughtfully. "That sounds… nice."
Endymion straightened and turned to the others, his voice calm but resolute. "Serenity and I would like some privacy," he said. "We'll be in the garden if anyone needs us, but I'd appreciate it if we weren't disturbed."
Kunzite, who had been watching the exchange closely, nodded immediately. He trusted Endymion implicitly. She trusts him, and she needs this. Yet, even as he nodded, his gaze shifted momentarily to the Starlights, reading their reactions like pieces on a battlefield. Their protectiveness was admirable, even if it bordered on overzealousness. They didn't know Endymion as he did. They didn't understand what he had endured to find her, how much of himself he had poured into this search. They saw a stranger where Kunzite saw a man carrying the weight of a love that defied memory itself.
The Starlights, however, were less acquiescent.
Seiya's expression darkened, and he took a half-step forward. "Are you sure that's wise?" he asked, his voice tense. "She barely knows you."
Endymion met Seiya's gaze evenly, his tone unyielding but devoid of hostility. "She's not a prisoner. She's allowed to decide for herself."
Serenity turned to Seiya, her voice calm but firm. "It's okay," she said. "I want to go. I… I need to figure this out."
Seiya's jaw tightened, his frustration etched into every line of his posture. The logic of her words did little to quell the protective instincts roaring inside him. This wasn't just about keeping her safe—it was about losing her to something he couldn't control. But he forced himself to step back, his shoulders rigid. "Fine," he muttered, though his tone was heavy with reluctance.
Taiki placed a hand on Seiya's arm, a silent reminder to let it go. His own feelings about the situation were conflicted. Logically, he understood that Serenity wasn't a child. She had the right to make her own decisions, even if they came with risks. But the scientist in him balked at the unknown variables, the potential dangers lurking just out of reach. Still, he held Seiya back, his calm gaze flicking to Serenity. "It's her decision," he said quietly, as much to Seiya as to himself.
Yaten, on the other hand, remained silent, his sharp gaze darting between Serenity and Endymion. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his body radiating distrust. But his mind was restless, circling the situation like a predator assessing a threat. He didn't trust Endymion—not because of anything specific the prince had done, but because Yaten trusted so few people to begin with. Serenity had been vulnerable when they found her, and they'd taken her in, protected her. Now, someone else—someone powerful, charismatic, and impossibly composed—was stepping in, and it felt too easy, too seamless. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.
Once the doors closed behind Serenity and Endymion, the tension between the remaining figures in the room was palpable. Seiya crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his expression stormy. "I don't like this," he said bluntly. "We've protected her all this time, and now we're just supposed to step aside?"
"She chose to go with him," Taiki said, his voice measured but tinged with a quiet warning. "It's her decision. We can't keep her from making it."
Seiya let out a frustrated exhale, his hands clenching into fists. "And what happens when she regrets it? What happens if he's not what he seems?"
Yaten's voice was sharp as a blade. "Exactly," he said, stepping forward slightly. "We don't know his true intentions. He seems too perfect. Too composed. I'm not ready to gamble her safety on someone who can talk his way into her trust in five minutes."
Kunzite turned to face them fully, his silver eyes hard as steel. "Endymion's intentions are beyond reproach," he said firmly, his tone carrying a quiet authority. "He would give his life for her without hesitation."
Seiya's sharp gaze snapped to Kunzite. "And we're just supposed to take your word for it?" he snapped, his frustration spilling over.
Kunzite's jaw tightened, but he didn't flinch under Seiya's glare. "You don't have to take my word for anything," he said evenly. "But don't doubt her. Serenity knows him—even if she doesn't remember. Her heart knows. That's why she went."
Seiya looked away, his frustration simmering just below the surface. He didn't want to admit it, but there was something in Serenity's voice, in her eyes, when she'd said she wanted to go. It wasn't just curiosity—it was trust. And that, more than anything, terrified him.
Taiki and Yaten exchanged wary glances. For all their disagreements, they were united in their uncertainty. They'd seen Serenity vulnerable, lost, and afraid. They'd built a fragile trust with her, and now they were watching someone else step in and unravel it—not maliciously, but with a kind of quiet inevitability.
The room felt heavier once they were gone, as though the fragile balance of trust and doubt had tipped into something darker. Seiya's shoulders were taut with restrained frustration, his jaw clenched so tightly that Taiki worried he might snap. Yaten paced a few steps, his sharp movements betraying his unease. Even Kunzite, ever composed, stood a little straighter, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as though bracing for what might come next. The tension was palpable, stretching between them like a taut wire, waiting for something—or someone—to cut it.
For now, all they could do was wait.