Seraphina had a love-hate relationship with days like today. Today was one of those days that she got dressed up in her favorite outfit and pranced around like the princess of Funkazan that she was. The outfit was beautiful, the red saree and the henna on her hands and feet made her feel like the goddess of fire. The gold jewelry paired so well, even if the ring on her nose was heavy as it connected to her ear. It was annoying for the chain to hit her cheek as she moved, and the bindi on her forehead was the same.
However, the outfit was never the problem these days; it was the mindless drooling of listening to the politics she knew more about than her brothers. The eldest was lazy, and the younger wanted to run away and be an author. She would love if she were allowed to be the queen, but she knew that it would take a coup to do so, which she had been planning since coming back from the war.
The snow had started falling as she walked away from the political dinner, knowing she wouldn't be missed if she left quickly. Her gold heels clicked on the tile as she ran, thinking about how she should be at the center of the political web. She should be the one there, not her brother. She might be the youngest, but by far, Seraphina knew she was the only one to love her people and want what was best for them.
She stopped, looking out at the courtyard with the first few inches of snow. It had looked like this the day she had betrayed the man she was in love with admired more than anyone else. The snow had been falling when she let the fires stop burning around the prince and handed him the reins to Blaze to escape. She lost everything that day, all because she did what was best for her people.
Seraphina had regretted that day, knowing that betrayed Zozo Enzo, but the war wouldn't have ended if she let him kill Ivan. She wasn't exactly expendable as a princess, but she wasn't the crown princess and next in line. Ivan had been the next in line, and Enzo had killed him; there would have been hell to pay. It was the most selfish thing she had ever done, letting that man run so her people could live. Phina should have let Enzo kill him, then she would still have... her best friendher favorite person ...Enzo.
She hadn't been in the snow since being dragged from the front and labeled a traitor. She came back as a princess and learned everything she could. However, that didn't change the war that raged behind her eyes when she closed them, or the political war she had started to rage as soon as she came home.
Seraphina watched the snowflakes fall before finally kicking off her shoes. Even in the deep pits of Hyouden, the cold never touched her thanks to her inner fire. She walked out into the few inches of snow, feeling the sizzle of ice under her feet as she continued forward. Her veil fell slowly away from her hair as she walked to the middle of the courtyard, releasing her hair to the snow.
Tilting her head back as she took in the snow, the snow melted over her face to hide the few tears that were shed. She fought for this peace but lost the one person she cared for to gain it. No matter how many lovers she took to her bed, nothing would fill the hole in her heart that Enzo used to fill. Slowly, she felt a calm wash over her, the only way a cold, snowy evening on the front could give her. The final moments of peace before the fight that was to come. She would need to return to the dinner, but right now she wanted to stay in the peace of the cold she had never felt.
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Posted: Thu Jul 10, 2025 5:08 pm
Winter hadn't yet fallen, but snow blanketed the grounds anyway. Enzo leaned his forehead against the windowpane of his dorm, staring out at the flakes drifting like ash through the darkened sky. He hated snow. Hated the cold even more. It seeped into everything. Nighttime was already bad enough, but snow made it worse. His breath began to fog the glass, slowly overtaking the reflection of his face until it disappeared entirely. He’d been in his room for hours, pretending to study, but his brain couldn’t stay focused for more than five minutes at a time. The pages of his textbook sat open on the desk behind him, completely forgotten.
He needed to move, no, he needed to think. Normally by now he’d be out by the lake, throwing punches into training dummies or running the perimeter of the academy grounds until his lungs burned. But not tonight, not with the snow falling like that. He sighed, then straightened up and pushed himself away from the window with a muttered curse. Maybe if he forced himself out, forced himself into the cold, he could get over this stupid hatred for it. Maybe if he stared it down long enough, it would stop owning so much of him.
Hell, maybe he'd even build a snowman someday, the thought of it made him snort.
He dragged on a warmer set of clothes and shouldered open the door. The hallway outside was mostly empty, though there was distant chatter drifting up from the dining hall below. Some kind of dinner tonight, something to do with students who were interested in the peace treaty. Not him, politics were behind him now. Far behind.
He waved lazily to a few passing students but didn’t stop walking. His hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly forward against the coming chill, he kept his gaze down. Until he spotted the history professor across the corridor. Enzo’s jaw clenched. He still hadn’t forgiven the man for that bizarre exercise not too long ago, the one that shoved all their traumas into the light like some kind of social experiment. His mood soured further at the memory, and even more so at the thought of Ivan with his sister that day. Like they shared something. Like they meant something to each other.
His lip curled, “Sucker-punching b*****d,” He muttered under his breath, shoulders tensing as fury sparked to life again. If Ivan had fought him properly, face-to-face like a man, he wouldn’t have had a chance. Enzo shoved through the double doors that led to the courtyard, the impact louder than necessary. Icy wind slapped him in the face as soon as he stepped outside, biting at his skin through layers that already felt too thin. He winced and groaned under his breath, glaring at the snow-covered path ahead. It was freezing and it wasn’t even winter yet. He started forward, then stopped. There was someone standing in the middle of the courtyard.
He blinked, tilting his head slightly, not unlike a dog when it hears something odd. There was a woman, standing completely still with her back to him. Something about her seemed… off, or maybe familiar. He’d gotten to know a lot of faces around campus, but hers tugged at something buried deep in his memory, something just out of reach. She was dressed in a traditional saree, a garment that he only saw in Funkazan, or when Zarah wore it around campus. Even stranger though, she was barefoot. His gaze dropped to her feet, surprised to see that the snow had melted in a path that followed where she stood. The ground was dry beneath her, as though the cold refused to touch her.
His brow furrowed, the last time he’d seen something like that was—
—He shook the thought of his head, and wandered over, "Uh, my lady,” He glanced down again, “Are you not cold?” The words came out more awkwardly than intended, but the question hung in the air. He circled slightly to get a better look at her face, and then it hit him. It was her. Seraphina. Everything inside him recoiled, then he took a step back instinctively, his body tensing, jaw tightening. It didn’t matter how long it had been, just seeing her again brought everything back. The pain, the betrayal. The raw, unfinished wound she’d left behind.
His eyes narrowed, and though he tried to keep his voice level, the bitterness bled through, “What are you doing here?” He didn’t mean to sound so disgusted, but in many ways he was. Disgusted with her actions at least. He cleared his throat and forced himself to breathe then added, more clipped this time, “Apologies, I forgot my manners. What are you doing here, princess?” The title came out like venom. He crossed his arms over his chest, retreating another half-step as if the distance might somehow shield him from the anger still twisting in his ribs. How dare she just show up like this, after all this time, after everything. He remembered the last time they reconnected, back on the front lines, when her eyes were wild with rage, burning for vengeance. She hadn’t belonged there then either.
The silence between them stretched thin, why was he still standing here? Enzo looked away for a moment, then let out a breath that was closer to a growl, “You know what? Forget I said anything.” It still hurt, because no matter how many years had passed, the memory of what she had done, still felt like a knife twisting in his side.
The snow was a wonderful reprieve for her. Seraphina loved the cold feeling, even if she didn't get cold. Still, it helped calm her as she stood in the middle of the courtyard. Phina was able to let her mind wander over something that wasn't politics, the only thing she thought about when she had to face her brothers regularly. She really was starting to miss isolation and the routine she had fallen into. That decade of her childhood was long gone; all she wanted now was to return to those days.
"Uh, my lady, are you not cold?"
That voice. That voice almost always accompanied her worst war terrors and the best of her dreams. Enzo's smoke-burned voice drifted to, causing her to sigh. Phina must have truly overworked herself if she could fall asleep standing up in the snow, a method she mastered on the front. Slowly, she dipped her head down, opening her eyes, but the sleep was still there; the dream in her mind showed Enzo in front of her. He wasn't in the war uniform she was used to, the one that haunted her dreams. No, he looked comfortable.
However, instead of stepping forward, he stepped back. He recoiled from her, and she looked down at her hands and realized this wasn't a dream. He had walked into the Utopia courtyard and wondered if she was cold. Did he not recognize her, because she would recognize him anywhere now? How couldn't she when she saw him everywhere?
His tone was angry, clipped, and wounded all at once. A malicious tone filled his voice, one that she wasn't expecting. Seraphina should have seen it coming, but after learning what Ivan had done, she still set the prince free.
"Apologies, I forgot my manners. What are you doing here, Princess?"
Seraphina couldn't think, could barely breathe, when her favorite pet name from him turned into an insult in the years they spent apart. Pain and hurt were all she felt when she looked at the man she still longed for. Her Zozo was long gone, and in his place was... just Enzo, the son of her father's closest advisor. She couldn't say anything or even move as she retreated from her again. "Zozo." His old nickname was a whisper on her tongue.
Silence was all she could handle as she tried to wrap her mind around seeing him again, here of all places. She knew there was a chance, but she put a distance between his father and herself for a reason. Seraphina had goals, and the man standing before her had a way of filling her thoughts with more than ambitions of a crown.
Still, she couldn't let him walk away, even if he was that angry at her. She knew he had the right, but Seraphina couldn't let him walk away. Not now, not when she had just gotten him back for a brief second.
"Enzo, wait!" She reached out, once again forgetting herself as she touched him with her hand. The henna looked like gloves, the thick ink etched into her hands with care, but they weren't. She forgot, reaching out to one of the few people that she used to be able to touch freely.
She could smell the smoke on his jacket, but she didn't let go; her desperation made her hold tighter on his sleeve. "I'm not sorry for letting him go, but I am sorry for hurting you. I had to pick you or end that stupid war. I watched it break you, and I was breaking too. I needed it to end. I'm sorry! I'm-"
Tears started to stream down her face as she fell to her knees, still gripping the burning fabric. The fabric of his sleeve tore at the burn, her saree falling off her shoulder and forward as she hit the ground with both hands. The snow sizzled louder, the grass underneath her burning as a small flame caught.
"Enzo, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You were my best friend and I-" Her cries echoed off the courtyard's stone walls as she thought of the war. The number of bodies she burned, the haunted, frozen stares as she lit them on fire. She saw them when she slept alone. It was why she ended up in anyone's bed—burning her lover alive, because she wasn't fireproof like Enzo had been. Nobody had gotten close to her life, he had, and he couldn't even look at her.
"I killed so many of them, even after I left the front lines. I couldn't stop. I just wanted it all to end. I killed her. I killed so many of them. I wanted to end me-" Her last words were a whispered confession she had never spoken aloud. Zayn had told her she would lose herself, and she had. Her humanity was gone long before she betrayed Enzo.
The fire around her grew, melting the snow like she used to on the front. The bodies. So many bodies. All Seraphina could see was the cold and the bodies.
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2025 9:56 am
Enzo barely registered the childhood nickname as it slipped from her lips, ‘Zozo.’ The sound of it grated against him, coiling tight in his chest. That name belonged to someone else, another version of himself. Apart of him wanted to snap at her, tell her that Zozo was dead and buried, just like everything else. Instead, he started to walk away, jaw tense and unwilling to look back.
But she caught his sleeve.
The grip was soft at first, but it stopped him dead in his tracks. His body twisted instinctively, and his crimson eyes flicked down to her hand. He could already feel the heat bleeding through the fabric, her emotions always had a way of bleeding out when she lost control, and she was losing control now. He could see it in the way her fingers trembled, in the way her breath hitched the moment he met her gaze. He should’ve pulled away. He wanted to. But her voice… It sounded desperate, and Enzo had always been weak to that sound. Even as children, when she was upset he’d go still.
She tightened her hold like she already knew what he was thinking, like she could sense the tension in his muscles, the inch he was about to take backward. Her eyes shone, and not with anger, this was regret. He didn’t want her apologies, didn’t want to hear that she was sorry or that she had some duty to uphold. He didn’t want to relive it again. But watching her unravel in front of him, it pulled at every memory he’d buried deep. She’d been there when everything broke, when he had shattered. She’d seen it all, and she stayed, Seraphina held him up when he couldn’t.
It wasn’t until he smelled smoke that he realized she was burning straight through his sleeve. His jacket was scorched, curling at the edges. Then she fell. She dropped to her knees so suddenly that it startled him and made him flinch. She didn’t seem to care that she fell, no, she was still apologizing. Each word chipped at the hardened exterior of his chest, and he hated that he couldn’t stop it. His eyes softened as she shattered, and all that bitterness, all the rage he had nursed for years, it didn’t vanish, but it was put in the back of his mind for the moment.
Without thinking, he knelt in front of her and his hands moved instinctively, gently fixing the folds of her saree, trying to give her anything that resembled stability. Then he rested his hand on her shoulder to hopefully ground her. Every part of him screamed to walk away and leave her there and protect whatever he had left. But his body wouldn’t obey, not when she looked like that. Not when she was breaking apart in front of him. Would he forgive her right now? No. That was still a long way off. Trust? Even further. But he didn’t have cruelty in him tonight, and that’s what it would be if he left her like this. Cruel.
Before she could finish another apology, he pulled her into his arms. It was tight, maybe too tight, but it was familiar. It reminded him of the day he broke in Hyouden, he hadn’t let himself think about that moment in years. Enzo never reached out after the war, he didn’t ask how she was, he honestly didn’t want to know. He’d been so consumed by betrayal, by his own anger, that he blocked her out entirely. She had a duty, a kingdom, a future, and Enzo didn’t want any part of it.
But now she was in his arms, and he could feel the tremble in her bones, and part of him hated himself for all the time he lost. Especially after hearing she’d wanted to end her own life. That part haunted him. He understood it intimately, that kind of despair had once lived inside him too. For years, it had clawed at the edges of his mind, whispering things he never dared say out loud. Of course he still had his bad days when darkness crept back in. But now he had ways to cope. He would run, drink, or spar until exhaustion drowned out the noise.
He leaned back just enough to take her hands in one of his, lifting them above the grass. The fires had died down, but he didn’t want to risk another flare. Gently, he laid his other hand on her shoulder, then cupped her face, tilting her chin up so their eyes could meet, “It’s okay,” His voice was rough with restraint. It wasn’t okay, not yet, but maybe it would be in time, “It’s okay, Phina.” Her name fell from his lips unfamiliarly like it was foreign to him after all these years. It felt strange to say it again.
He dropped his hand slowly, watching her face, watching the hurt and the hope fight behind her eyes. Guilt clawed at his ribs, but he forced himself to look away, down at the singed patches of grass and the steam rising where snow had melted under the heat. Then, carefully, he stood, still holding her hands, and helped her to her feet, “I’m sorry for…” The words died on his tongue; he wasn’t sure if he meant them. But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was now about calming her. Keeping her from falling off whatever edge she’d been standing on, “I didn’t mean to upset you, Your Highness.” He said it with genuine respect, but the title still felt distant, just like her name. He scanned the courtyard and spotted a bench just beyond the tree line, then he turned to her and with a softer voice muttered, “Hold on.” He let go of her hands and moved to collect her shoes and when he returned, he didn’t think, he simply took her hand and led her toward the bench.
Once there, Enzo helped her sit, then dropped to his knee again, silently lifting her ankle, and slid the shoe gently onto her foot, repeating the process with the other. When he was done, he straightened and sat beside her. Not close it was really just enough to feel her presence. His eyes stayed on the tree line, unsure of how to begin again. Eventually, he exhaled and turned, propping one elbow on the back of the bench, finally meeting her gaze, “I just don’t understand why…” His voice cracked slightly, so he looked down at his lap, with a clenched jaw, before adding, “Why didn’t you just talk to me, Phina?” His hand balled into a fist, “I would’ve listened. I always did.”
He paused and let the silence stretch, Enzo’s forehead dropped into his palm, fingers tangling in his hair. For a while, he didn’t move, and didn’t breathe. He just sat with the weight of it all, replaying everything. The betrayal and the emptiness. Worse…the image of Ivan vanishing over the hill on the horse Enzo picked out for her. Maybe this wasn’t the time to talk, maybe it was a mistake, but he needed answers to move on. He needed that closure if they were going to be at this Academy together.
Seraphina didn't recognize herself as she clung to the burning grass. She couldn't stop the heaving sobs racking her chest. No matter how hard she tried to breathe, the oxygen couldn't reach her blood. She couldn't hear anything anyone was saying; all she could hear were the screams of her people on that battlefield.
The war only lasted six months for her, a short time compared to what most people did. Most of her people hadn't made it home, so she should consider herself lucky. She was on the ground in the snow, safe, even if it didn't feel like it. She was facing her worst demon for the first time since coming home from war, the best friend she betrayed. Enzo was here at the academy, something that she didn't know. If she hadn't, she would have never shown up, no matter what the orders from her parents were.
She would rather be in isolation again. She would rather Zayn yelling at her about her safety, reminding her she was always being watched. The academy seemed like freedom, but now she realized it wasn't. The man that was her childhood best friend, the man she fell in love with on the front, the man she betrayed in a feeble attempt to end the war, was the first person to see her break since...
...Phina looked down at her hands, which were engulfed in the flames of her emotions. Just like that night she hadn't been wearing gloves, the henna was a poor substitute. Her fingers grazed her for a single second before the flames overtook. In the years since leaving the front and going back home, she still hadn't gained control.
"I've burned everyone I have ever loved." Her words were a hollow whisper as she looked out at the snow. It wasn't an academy filled with people who could see her breaking in the courtyard with Enzo. No, it was the room where she set every board and curtain on fire just for an ounce of the emotions she felt now.
"They were right. I should be put down before I hurt the prince." Her parents' hushed words before her banishment had been words she lived despite, but she knew the truth deep down. She was the fire they couldn't quell. Seraphina was the enemy the crown needed to be protected from.
Her breath got harder, sobs threatening to force their way to the surface. Phina knew she was probably crying, but didn't recognize the tears as they melted away. She couldn't think of anything as Enzo knelt in front of her. His hands were gentle as they fixed the saree wrapped around her with practiced hands. She finally got the oxygen she needed when his hand found her shoulder.
Then it was his arms around her, just like her first day in Hyouldne when the roles were reversed. He had broken, and they never talked about it. Phina refused to discuss those emotions during the war, but it seemed her turn. She didn't return the embrace; she just sat there fighting for air to fill her lungs. Then, the thoughts finally quieted to a numb roar.
She breathed him in, the same smell she remembered in the war. Slowly, she returned to herself, not the scared little girl she was. The war was brutal and harsh on them, with Enzo having it worse. It wasn't kind for her to break down like this; it was cruel to make him take care of her. He kept her hands above the grass before cupping her face.
"It's okay. It's okay, Phina." She allowed him to help her to her feet. She looked down and fixed her saree before wiping under her eyes, hoping to remove whatever remnants of her crying. "I'm sorry for... I didn't mean to upset you, Your Highness."
Seraphina nodded once, words unavailable to her as she let her emotions go numb in a practiced manner to keep her fire under control. He had said her nickname and title with a distance respect that she knew was the subject's due for their princess. He grabbed her shoes and led her to a bench off to the side.
There were still no words as Enzo dropped to one knee and helped with her shoes. When he was done, she leaned forward, head down, hair covering her face from his gaze. She kept her hands clasped hard as he talked again, eager to know more.
She pushed her hair back behind her ears, meeting his eyes for a glance to see if he wanted to do this now. Phina started, hunched, staring at her fingers as she thought of the words she should have said long ago.
"Did you know I was in love with you?" She asked a question before she could even stop herself from a haunted laugh, "or as in love with you as I could be at 17 and in a war."
She stopped playing with her fingers. "You were right that first day, I am a liability. I knew that my title wouldn't mean s**t if I died. Micah has Uriel, and I'm the princess who would get my brothers burned or worse. I mean, I had been banished from the palace for over a decade, so nobody would have blinked if I disappeared in the war. Trust me, I disgraced them when I came home from that war, and they told me I was an awful daughter even if I paved the way to that stupid ******** peace treaty they are so proud of. Then there was you. Someone who actually ******** gave a s**t about me."
She paused, sitting up, leaning against the bench, and sinking down. "That's awful about duty, though. My parents wouldn't have given a s**t if I died, but if the crown prince of Hyouden died? There would have been hell to pay. So, I let him go, because above all, I'm a princess and my duty isn't to my heart, it's to my people."
Seraphina stood and looked over at the person who used to be her friend. "I never told you any of that because it's easier for you to hate than to have you look at me like you do now. I can handle hate, I can't handle pity." Seraphina looked around the courtyard, grateful that the grass had stopped burning and the snow was starting to cover her indiscretion. However, she needed to get out of her before she said anything else she regretted. Already telling him she used to be in love with him had been enough. If he finds out anymore, she wouldn't know what to do.
"Thank you for being kind, but I should change before someone starts a rumor about the Funkazan princess that was burning the courtyard in an emotional outburst. I'm assuming I can expect your discretion on this, correct?" She turned after that to grab the veil that was still on the ground, hoping that he might let her go without another word.
talking color #24a23d
Mythical_Books
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Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2025 12:27 pm
He recognized the response she was having, the haunted stillness, the way her breath caught like it hurt to inhale. It was too familiar. The look of someone who had been claimed by war and never quite given back. He hated how well he understood it. Hated more that he had played a large part in it. Phina had confessed to burning people she loved, hurting them beyond recognition, and as she repeated it, he heard something new in her voice. Regret, obviously, but also guilt so sharp it cut through her like a blade. She had said "her." A specific pronoun, a slip of grief he hadn’t noticed before. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t press, he didn’t get to ask. Not after what he just did, not when he truly was the one who walked away.
Guilt tightened around his ribs, he hadn’t written, he never reached out. He’d let his rage consume him while she’d been drowning in hers. When she needed someone to absorb her fire-literally-he had been off in his own world, getting drunk, getting bruised, picking fights with the world instead of facing his pain. Then she whispered it, the venom of someone else's cruelty still on her tongue.
"They were right. I should be put down before I hurt the prince."
Enzo winced, the words made his jaw clench hard enough to ache. Who the hell said that to her, and why hadn’t he been there to stop it? He held her, tight and crushing. Like if he just pressed hard enough, he could keep all her pieces together. She didn’t move, didn’t react, but that was okay. He could feel the stutter of her breath, the effort it took just to stay present. So, he kept holding her silently, until she remembered how to breathe. Forgiveness didn’t come easy to him. He was the kind of man who buried grudges like landmines, saving them for when he needed to act on revenge or remind himself why he shouldn’t trust others. But holding her now, listening to the fragile rhythm of her chest, it all started to feel... pointless.
Eventually, he got her to sit beside him on the bench. Quietly, he waited for any flicker of movement, any glance. Just something that told him she was still here. And then, finally, she stirred, brushing strands of hair behind her ear with delicate fingers. She met his gaze for only a moment before lowering it again, eyes falling to her hands like she was ashamed of being seen. The words that followed, gutted him, hitting him like another sucker punch. Enzo blinked, the weight of it landing slow and heavy. Did he know? Had there been signs?
He searched his memory for any indication, any whispered look or lingering touch. But all he could see was the girl he once saw as his sister. Back then, she’d been so young, and he was all fists and fury. His mind hadn’t been capable of accepting that kind of love. If she had shown it, it went unnoticed. Or maybe… ignored. He watched her sink further into herself, like the bench was swallowing her whole, and he felt it again, that nauseating weight in his gut. He’d been so ******** dense. But her explanation made perfect sense, more sense than anything he’d told himself to stay angry at her. “I don’t pity you, princess,” The words were quiet but certain, it was true, he didn’t pity her, not even close. In fact, he understood her now. Understood what she had wrapped herself in, an shell forged from years of silence, loss, and being abandoned, including by him. His grudge had become a leash Ivan could tug, and that realization made him sick with himself.
When she moved to stand and reached down for the veil, Enzo stepped toward her, “Of course you can,” His voice almost cracked, but it was certain, the word discretion felt sharp, almost pointed. His hand hovered near her arm, but he hesitated. Did he even have the right? The open gesture curled into a fist. But then he remembered the way she’d shown up at the front lines, defiant and on fire. How he’d grabbed her back then too. He reached out again, slower this time, and gently wrapped his fingers around her arm. A soft grip, yet firm with meaning, “I don’t pity you,” He repeated, this time with grit in his voice. He wasn’t letting her walk away like this, not when there was possibly something left to salvage.
“I’m not letting you leave like this.” His tone came rough, and a little raw, “If you need discretion…” Without thinking, he pulled his shirt over his head. The air bit at his skin, but he didn’t care. His torso bore years of brutal history, scars, burns, blade marks, tattoos layered over half-healed wounds. It was a map of everything he had survived. And now he held his sweater out to her, singed at the sleeve, sure, thanks to her, but still whole enough to shield her from unwanted eyes, “Please, let me help you. Just… let me get you where you need to go.” The guilt burned now, boiling deep in his stomach. Years of silence, of being just another absence in her life when she needed something solid to lean on. His voice dropped again, “Please, Phina…”
It was nights like tonight when something small would trigger her, and she would return to the war. The first few days had been nothing too bad, but later she realized what everyone meant when they said she wouldn't be the same. She buried the feelings deep, not wanting to confront her nightmares. Seraphina buried them beneath the royalty she had, the crown that demanded her to be perfect.
The confession was one of those small moments where she broke, and she was right back in Hyouden, looking out for enemies and keeping her people warm. Seraphina slowly returned to herself after the confession, returning to the Princess, who was too consumed with the peace for her people's sake to have her own emotions. That was the facade that kept her safe, the person she should be.
"I don't pity you, Princess." Five words that Princess Seraphina Rose Duwoud couldn't fully comprehend. In her mind, you either had power or pity. She was at her least powerful around Enzo. So, it had to be pity filling his eyes, right? She watched as he moved to touch her, just for a moment, she waited for that touch like she was seventeen again, wanting to please him. The hand on her arm, gentle but comforting, had her closing her eyes as he repeated those five words.
Seraphina had to stop reaching for his cheek and stroking his face to memorize those lines again. She couldn't, not when she didn't have the power in this relationship. Enzo had a way of breaking her down and stripping her to her core. After all, he was the first person she had ever truly apologized to. Seraphina slowly watched as he peeled away his shirt. The scars she had seen, even treated a few of those herself, but the tattoos were new. Her eyes slowly trailed down his body to each new tattoo, his chest and abs a work of art she wasn't expecting. That stupid school girl crush was starting to come back, and she had to force herself to look away before she did something she regretted, like trail a finger over each piece of art.
She nodded once when he asked to accompany her, even adding her stupid nickname. "You can walk me to my room to get some gloves and a change of clothes if you promise to put your shirt back on." Seraphina placed the veil back on her head, letting some of the fabric drape before her face. The flush on her cheeks was easier to conceal when she was covered like this. "After all, you are the one who gets cold so easily.
She smiled as she paused and offered her hand for them to walk together. While the veil offered some visibility, walking while he guided them would be easier. It also allowed her to keep her head down not to meet anyone's eyes. However, Phina couldn't help but glance at the man beside her. Taking off his shirt had proved her original assumption about her friend; he was now a man with a body to match. She wanted to laugh at her stupidity. Of course, he had become more attractive; four years had passed since they fought together. "Thank you for your kindness, Enzo." Seraphina hoped they could get back to laughing together and being the best friends she missed every day since coming back. Maybe then, she wouldn't feel an ache every time she said his name.
talking color #24a23d
Mythical_Books
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Fuzzy Wolf
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Posted: Mon Jul 28, 2025 9:38 am
His eyes softened as he watched her lean into his touch, she didn’t pull away. That alone was enough to make something in his chest unclench. For a moment, he just stood there, quietly observing her. He had always done that, especially back on the front lines, when things were quiet, too quiet, he’d find himself watching her, tracking each shift in her expression. Not because he was nosy, but because it was the only way he could read her. She rarely told the truth with words, not when it came to how she felt, but her face couldn’t always lie.
He’d gotten decent at it, after years of practice, but never quite perfect. She was still a mystery in motion. Say one thing, mean another, smile all while breaking inside. He hated how much he remembered of it. Hated that he still noticed. When she turned away, something in him flickered, hesitation maybe? He glanced down at the shirt still in his hands, then at his torso. Was she uncomfortable? Heat crept into his cheeks, embarrassed, he shifted his weight, cleared his throat, and nodded like it was no big deal. He slipped the shirt back over his head, and tugged it down quickly, “Tch. I don’t get cold that easily,” He muttered, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. He gave her a lopsided grin, “I’ve grown thicker skin since the last time you saw me.” It was a lie, of course. He still got cold far too easily for someone with fire in his veins, always had and still, somehow, always would.
But as she veiled her face, a familiarity stirred. Not just the image, but the rhythm of it, her presence, the way she moved. Enzo’s stomach tightened, he could feel it, that dangerous ease slipping in. The way being around her chipped away at the distance he’d tried to put between them. It scared him, because he was still angry, still hurt. Even if he understood the reasons now. Yet, when she offered her hand, instinct overruled caution and he took it. Just like that warmth returned to his limbs. It was grounding, like a match relighting.
His fingers curled gently around hers as he turned toward campus, guiding her along. She hadn’t wandered too far, thankfully so the walk back was short, but his mind was anything but quiet. She’d changed, visibly and emotionally. Phina grew into herself in ways he hadn’t been around to see. It made him feel like a stranger in her world, even if his hand fit hers like it always had. He wanted to ask her what had happened when she returned to the palace, what it had been like for her.
But the questions were stacked too high in his throat. The two of them reached the dorm steps, and he walked her up them silently, holding the door open as she stepped into the warmer air. The hallway smelled faintly of old floor polish as they headed down the corridor toward the girls' dorms, almost off limits. Almost curfew, but not yet. Still, he kept his head down as they moved past a few students. He nodded politely but didn’t linger on their stares. “You’ll have to let me know which door’s yours,” His voice was low as he scanned the hallway like he might magically figure it out himself, but he already knew he wouldn’t. That wasn’t the real question on his mind.
He wanted to ask to be let in, just for a minute. Not to push or anything, just to talk. But he hesitated, would it be too much? Would she take it the wrong way? Would Phina think he was trying something, when all he wanted was to sit across from her again without an army or years between them? He forced himself to speak. “So, uh…” He exhaled, trying to keep his voice casual, though his pulse wasn’t playing along. “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?” He kept his gaze on the doorframe, pretending to read the room numbers like they meant something to him. Anything to avoid looking her in the eyes just yet. “I just… I feel like we have some catching up to do.” It came out too fast, like he was worried she’d walk off before he could say it. Then a little more honest, he added, “But I know it’s late and I was a d**k. So, I get it if you don’t want to talk right now.”
Seraphina's breathing started to slow when the veil dropped on her face. It was almost like the veil dropping was a physical representation of the facade of the princess she wore around so many others. It was easier to be this Phina, Princess Seraphina Rose Dowoud was always in charge and never let her emotions or fire take over. Phina could break with a single look or a whispered conversation. At least, out of everyone she could break down in front of, Enzo wasn't the worst option.
"Why do I doubt that?" She retorted to his comment about not getting cold. She was about to add how much more time he had in Hyouden before her, but she also remembered how much he was there after her. She had been shipped back to the palace for her indiscretions, while he stayed to fight for her people. She smiled behind her veil when he took her outstretched hand to lead her back. Having him as an escort was the most comforting thing in the world for her. He had done it back when they were kids and then again at the war front. If she felt the same, even for a second, she was running through the mansion halls trying to catch up to his longer legs.
She followed him through the campus and to the dorm hallway. He asked which one was hers, and she quickly took the lead. A few people were in the hallways, but she never looked in their direction. While they weren't supposed to know about each other's countries, one might assume from her dress that she was a Princess of Funkazan, which meant Enzo was an escort. Still, she didn't like anyone seeing her, not even fresh after a breakdown.
Seraphina paused at her door, wanting to invite Enzo in, but unsure how. She knew they needed to talk and would probably never get back to how they were before the war, but she would at least like to salvage her friendship with Enzo. So, it was a relief when he asked if he could come in for a moment. Seraphina laughed, a genuine laugh when his words came out rushed. "Please come in. Give me a moment to change and wash my face, but make yourself at home.
She walked into the room before closing the door behind her. As always, her maids kept the plants fresh and any flowers she asked for, which were a lot. Ever since her time in Hyouden, she had always wanted to be surrounded by life, and she hated the commitment that came with a pet. "Ignore the plants. I like being surrounded by the living."
Seraphina didn't even wait before she started to strip out of her sarii. While she loved dressing up and wearing her people's traditional clothes, at some point it became unbearable, and Enzo had seen her in various states of undress before that moment. Still, she refused to turn around until she had her clothes on.
"Let's play a game." Her words came out almost playful as she handed him a bottle of alcohol and took one for herself. With her face scrubbed and jewelry off, Seraphina turned and sat on the ground. She leaned against the fall wall of the room and uncapped the bottle. "We take turns asking each other questions, and if we don't want to answer, we drink. Game ends when we decide it's too late or one of us runs out? How about it? Wanna play?"
talking color #24a23d
Mythical_Books
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Fuzzy Wolf
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2025 9:18 am
“Please, come in. Give me a moment to change and wash my face, but make yourself at home.”
Her voice carried that effortless steadiness he’d always known, even in the smallest things, and for some reason it set his nerves on edge. Enzo managed a smile, tugged into place despite the tightness in his chest. It wasn’t natural, not really, but it was all he had. He was glad she didn’t seem put off by his awkwardness, if anything, she seemed amused. She laughed lightly, like the whole thing was nothing, and it struck him harder than he wanted to admit.
He stepped inside after her, and immediately stopped short. Plant, they filled the dormitory creeping over every surface, crowding the air with shades of green. Pots lined the windowsills, vines dangled from overhead, and the faint, earthy smell of soil clung to the room. It was rather… alive. He let out a short, dry chuckle in response, “It is certainly full of life in here.” If he had tried something like this, everything would be dead within a week, or burned to ash if he was truly careless. He had never had the patience for it, never had a green thumb. His brow arched slightly, curiosity trickling in, did she tend all of it herself? Or did her maids keep it thriving? He knew she had taken some servants with her, like most royals did, so it wouldn’t surprise him.
As she moved deeper into the room, Enzo let his gaze sweep across the space. It was warm and layered with comfort in a way that stirred familiarity. It reminded him of Funkazan. The thought alone steadied him, loosening the tightness in his chest. Then his attention snagged on movement at the edge of his vision, because Phina was undressing. His breath caught subtly, he had seen her change countless times on the front lines, moments shared out of necessity. He had convinced himself it never touched him, never twisted anything inside. Enzo played the role of indifference so well he almost believed it. Maybe that was why she was comfortable enough to do it now, here, with him watching from across the room.
But the truth pressed against his ribs, he had always been acting. His jaw tightened, and he forced himself away, his body moving before his mind could falter. He turned sharply toward the window, palms braced against the sill, the cool wood grounding him. His breath fogged faintly against the glass as he exhaled, slowly. He had told himself boundaries were unnecessary, that he was strong enough to hold back any thought that strayed too far. But he knew, deep down, he had let himself get too comfortable with her. Too close. His eyes softened as he stared down at the snowy ground below, but his grip on the windowsill betrayed him, tightening as memory surfaced. That night on her birthday. Though innocent enough, the thought of it flared sharp as ever, and he clenched harder until his knuckles whitened.
Then her voice carried across the room, enough to slice through the haze in his mind, “A game?” The corner of his mouth lifted, a laugh slipping out low and rough. He turned, leaning his back against the windowsill, and folded his arms, for the first time since stepping inside her room, he let himself look at her properly. She looked the same, bare faced, without the polish of court life, but there was a difference too. Older, matured. She wasn’t the girl he remembered- and yet, she was.
He tilted his head back, looking up toward the ceiling as if weighing the thought, fingers brushing at his chin in mock consideration. But when she held out the bottle to him, his feigned disinterest faltered. He couldn’t pretend, “Alright. Deal.” His voice was resigned, but laced with genuine interest. He could play her game, and maybe if he did, she would be Phina again, not the woman he’d built in his mind, not the traitor who had gutted him without care on the battlefield, just her.
He slid down the wall, settling onto the floor with his back braced against it. One knee bent, the other leg stretched out. He twisted the cap off the bottle, tilted it back, and let the burn slide down his throat. When he lowered it, a faint smirk tugged at his lips, and he placed the bottle beside him, resting his arm on his raised knee, casual as he could manage, “So,” He said at last, lighter than before, “Did you ever get Blaze back?” There was a hesitation, a beat too long, before he added in a more playful tone, “Or am I going to have to find you a new horse?” It wasn’t harmless, but it was an easier question. He wanted to move forward, the grudge he carried had carved into him, done nothing but keep him bleeding. But now, sitting here with her again, he didn’t want to keep feeding it.
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