Nine years ago...

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"You kind of line it up like this."

The blonde haired boy said with a gentle smile as he exaggerated his movements as he put the arrow in the bow.

"Then you just look up and check where the bullseye is, then line up your arrow and eyesight with it."

The young Aryan simply did as he said before pulling the arrow back.

"Make sure it's perfect before you release," he added before doing just that.

The arrow swiftly flew through the air and then promptly hit the target square on. As if the shot was perfect.

"You've been practicing, no fair," the nine year old girl said, sticking out her tongue, childishly.

The young Aryan laughed heartily, enjoying her company to the fullest.

"Well, maybe just a little," the teenage boy said, gesturing with his fingers.

At such a young age, he had become the best archer in their tribe.

His purple eyes lit up when Alisa picked up the bow and took out her first arrow.

"Come on, you've got this. If I'm a natural, surely you will be too."

"That's a lot of pressure," Hestia said, piping up from the grass near them.

The redhead often preferred doodling in her notebook then always engaging in whatever new activities the other two loved to get up to.

They were surely going to find themselves in some kind of trouble.

"She's got this. Don't make her nervous."

Alisa's arms wobbled as she tried to do as her friend had previously instructed her to but before she knew it, the arrow had flown through the air, narrowly missing Hestia's pigtails.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Alisa sheepishly mumbled before looking downcast.

"This is hard."

"You've only given it one shot," stated the young Aryan with a chuckle.

"Yeah but clearly I'm no good at it," she pouted, feeling like the instrument was constricting her from doing her best anyway.

"You just need some practice, that's all. That's what I'm here for, Alisa."

"Can you show me again?" She asked, timidly.

The boy only grinned back with a nod.

"Say it slower this time; she might get it then," chimed in by the eleven year old.

She always loved when they let her describe how to do certain tasks, it made her feel alive showing others the things that she knew by heart already.

Yet archery had never been her strong point. Hestia rather leave it up to the professional; their young Aryan master.

"And maybe show her at the same time you're doing yours," she added in as an afterthought, then began making notes in her book again.

The blonde boy nodded, taking her suggestions into consideration.

He knew he had two of the brightest witches in his company and they constantly yet pleasantly surprised him at times.

"Hold your bow like this," the boy instructed as he placed the bow in Alisa's hand softly, his fingers lingering for a moment too long.

Redness spread across Alisa's cheeks in waves as their fingers connected softly when ensuring the bow was securely in her arms.

However, it didn't feel secure to her; her hands felt clammy in his.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her chest as he placed an arrow softly between the bow strings.

It was slow and calculated.

And it made Alisa want to buckle in her knees, having his breath so close to her face.

They had ceased their movements, staring into each other's eyes in silence.

The air around them felt thin and hard to breathe in. The air in their lungs felt constricted yet somehow free all at the same time.

They didn't seem to notice nor care though with their sole focus being each other.

"Then you just," he started but faltered once more.

"Line it up like this," he quickly added, struggling to get the words out as he looked away from her, as he slightly blushed.

It was hard to focus on the makeshift red target when odd things were swirling inside of him.

Emotions were strange and almost unheard of but in the years he was getting to know Alisa, he was beginning to feel things that were forbidden and outlawed long ago.

Human emotions.

Witches thought human emotions were a sticky business that they rather stay right out of. It was quite evident in the way the Aryan chose his bride; without love or sincerity.

For the young Aryan knew his parents felt nothing when they stared at each other, other than the complete loyalty and obedience that came from his mother.

The Aryan never looked at his wife any differently from any other witch as she was just the same as any to him.

She was seen but never heard, for her only role was to produce her child. The boy knew she didn't care for him in those strange ways that Alisa's mother vaguely did for her.

He knew he was missing out on things that the naturals seemed to cherish so much but he knew his place was right here beside his father, serving the Clan Leaser until it was his turn to serve the coven as well.

In his moment of pondering strange feelings erupting in his stomach, he let go of the arrow and it flew through the air.

"Ace!"

"What?"

He looked up and followed Alisa's eyesight - the arrow had hit the bullseye square on it once more.

The young Aryan really was a great archer at only fourteen.

"I can't actually believe you did it without even looking," Alisa breathed out in a murmur before answering his lingering question.

"I'll call ya' Ace for ya' perfect archery skills cause that was just...wow."

"You know names aren't allowed," the young Aryan said, sheepishly with a soft blush.

Secretly, though, he kinda liked the individual nickname - it made him feel normal and maybe a little special inside.

Every witch had a name except him.

It had always felt odd or maybe it felt strange because Alisa often commented about how strange it was that he didn't have a name.

The witch heirs never did but somehow he felt like Alisa was the change that they desperately needed but Ace dared never to tell a soul that piece of information.

It was the kind you went to the grave with when your father has a great kind of power that could take yours in a flash.

Ace was far more afraid of their own Clan Leader than anyone else.