"Don't get on too far ahead!" Cyrus called. He trotted up next to me, closer than usual, apparently completely uninterested in decorum or what Willoughby or Josie might think, as he took the lower portion of Isaac's reins and pulled them back to slow her down.

I pursed my lips. "Beg your pardon!"

"You're getting ahead again," he said. He looked around at the forest that lined the solemn path.

"You're the one who chose to ride Edith, don't be angry I have the faster horse," I grumbled.

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he frowned.

"They were just pickpockets," I whined. "I can't imagine they're hiding in the trees!"

"Svana," Willoughby nodded. "Surely you can forgive the man for being careful with your safety," he said. "There's no harm in being cautious."

"Harm or not," I yanked the strap free. "I can instruct my own horse."

"Fine," Cyrus sat up. "But when she bucks you, don't cry to me."

"I won't cry at all, I'm not a child!" I scoffed.

"Then don't act like one!" he struck Edith's back, guiding her ahead of us, and directly in front of Ice. When I tried to parry around him, he gestured to her, and she slowed down at his command.

"Stop it!" I spat.

"I thought you could instruct your own horse?" A smug grin threatened the peace between us.

"Cyrus," Willoughby purred.

They shared a look, and reluctantly, my swordsman moved to the side. I took my place back next to him and scowled, very deeply indeed.

"Should we be paying more attention to the weather?" Josie asked. The three of us looked back at her at once, dumbly following her as she pointed to the canopy.

Through the tiny pockets of light, we saw that the clouds had begun to darken, and, because only in that moment could it have happened, a loud roar out of the sky shocked all of us, even the horses- but especially mine.

The four of them responded in various stages of fear, with Cyrus, followed by Willoughby able to handle their steeds best. My knight tried to settle Josie's, but both Tails, and Ice reacted, casting their hooves into the air one after the other and practically howling, setting each other off.

Josie fell and Willoughby dismounted to help her, but Ice- Despite my ability to somehow remain fixed to her, clambered off the path and took flight, spiriting me away.

"Yeah! Yeah!"

I could hear my Sword riding fast; the pacing of his and his mount's breaths, but barely over the thundering commotion that was my own terror. Ice was certainly the faster horse, but also very much an uncontrolled, terrified creature who'd taken me as her hostage.

No amount of trembling patting of her mane, or pleading eased her, and I was left to accept my fate. Eventually I would lose my grip and be thrust off one of the rocky cliffs, scattered across the countryside. Somehow fitting, I thought.

"Ice!" I cried, in vain. "Please! Listen to me! You must calm down."

Suddenly she reared again, screaming at sight of something! The dirt she'd kicked into the air dissipated and her shoes struck the ground with two loud thuds. She continued to pace around in a quick oval and I saw that it was Cyrus that'd startled her. He must have taken a shortcut, appearing as if by magic. He rode up to her side and caught the leads in his hands, holding both horses.

Very quickly, and expertly, he passed from Edith to the other, maneuvering into place behind me, and forcing Isaac into a full stop.

"Whoaaa!" he told her.

I struggled to catch my breath, equal parts mortified by the runaway mare, and flushed by his flesh so close to mine.

"I've got you," Cyrus said. But I didn't move until a second crack across the sky tore over us. He settled me with the other arm, urging me closer to his chest. "I've got you."

"I," I started. "I can't believe that happened!"

"Aye."

A few minutes later, we had wandered out, emerging from the other end of a familiar clearing where the Chapel was. The reality of the approaching storm was obvious now, with whipping winds, ripping the flowers from one side to the other. My hair and skirt joined their chaotic dance, unraveling key points of my braid and obstructing my view.

When we were off the horse, Cyrus groaned, pulling me by the hand. "We'll need to take cover."

"What about the girls?" I whined.

"We'll put them inside with us," he shrugged, but when I opened the door, a gust launched it, hard, into the stone wall. The crash startled them once more, and Cyrus let go of the reins the moment they began to panic.

Isaac and Edith fled into the wilderness, impervious to my calls or our frustration. "Wait!" I yelled.

Finally, the clouds' reserve broke, releasing all of its rain down onto us. Still, I would have chased after them, had Cyrus not caught my arm. He shook his head, insisting that I "Leave them!" and persuaded me on, into the church.

Cyrus forced the entrance shut behind us, barring it with the large wood beam. He exhaled, swiping the rain from his brow and shook it from his arms.

"But they'll be scared!" I begged.

"I know," he sighed. He wrung the hem of his shirt out, too. "But they're smart. They'll find somewhere to ride it out. Don't worry."

"Are you sure?" I frowned. "What if-?"

"I'm sure." His gaze returned, falling from one end of me to the other, before I realized my dress had soaked through in places, clinging to my shape. But I didn't shield myself from him. I stood nervously, watching his face, unsure of anything; except the return of the spark.

The rain continued to pour; crackling static, beating onto the roof of our haven, and unrelenting. After a second, he removed the ornate cloth from under the votives.

"What are you doing?" I cried, but then he came at me with it, and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"You'll catch your death," he reasoned. "I'm sure God understands."

I oof'd as he pulled the fabric tighter and me closer with it. Exactly as he had our first kiss.  "Cyrus..." I managed to say.

"Yes, Princess?" He broke away to light a few of the other candles nearby, each dancing; a beautiful orange hue across his features in this shadowed room.

"...Why did you lie to me?" I whispered. "Are we not friends? You don't trust me?"

He stumbled over the question, furrowing his brow. "Svana... I-?"

"You're a solider. Apparently a good one. Which makes sense with your position but, I- You said you weren't allowed to enlist. Why did you-? I felt a sense of kinship with how alienated you were, and now-!"

He was slower with his reply, "And now?" but didn't deny it.

"And now..." I stopped.

Cyrus inched closer, warming my arms. He swept the droplets from my collarbone, waiting, "And now?"

"Now..." I let out a soft noise as he abandoned it to touch me, gently with his hand. His fingers were warm against my neck.

I stumbled backwards, abruptly, widening my eyes. "I'm angry with you! You lied. More than once! Tell me why."

He swallowed, and after a moment he said, "I didn't want to look my Queen in the eyes and tell her I was a traitor. That I'd killed Oreian men in the name of King Sameer. For what? To keep my place here at the Palace? Is that what you'd hear from me?" He chuckled, darkly. "I love Chalke but I'm not proud of what I've done to stay in her. I liked how you looked at me when you didn't know."

"...I don't understand," I tried. "Your place was threatened? Why-why would your service matter?"

"What I said, and what Daniel heard about tensions between immigrants and the Crown is real. It was made very clear to me that all palace employees, men of ability and age, would fight for His Majesty or be removed."

"What? What did Sam say?!"

"He was a kid. We both were. What could anyone say?"

"He wasn't ever a kid. Royals are not kids. Sam should've stood up to his father!"

Cyrus only looked at me. "Have you always?"

"...Tell me why you can't come home."

"...Who says I can't?" He bristled.

"I'm not as foolish as you might think. You lie, unprompted. You avoid all talk of our country; my father, unless you're taking strikes at him. You're quick with a sword. Gifted in many talents but yet your position here is threatened and you choose to remain, not return home. You're a fugitive."

"A fugitive?" he laughed. "I am not."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" he said. "I am sure."

"It wouldn't change how I feel about you," I confessed. "Or looked at."

He paused. "...How do you feel about me?"

"Then it's your hatred for His Majesty. Does it bleed into your opinion of me? I'm not him, I will not pay for his crimes."

"You really...? Svana... Fine. I wanted to remain here. My friends are here. And I've spent enough years, I may as well be, too. I was defending my home, my father when he was still alive, who, as much as he may have liked to go home, never had the option. The War hurt us all. Everywhere. In different ways. I did what I could to stay near the people I loved. To see to it they were safe."

"Well. I can't argue you with that," I sighed. "That's exactly why I'm marrying Sam. That feeling is duty."

He pinched the space between his eyes. "...You will be taken care of," he said. "Sam is a good man, I hope you'll see."

I sneered. "Cyrus, that's not what-"

He took a deep breath. "He is."

"You're a good man. A better one, I'd wager." A single brow went up, as he brooded. I dropped my arms to my side. "Tell me I'm wrong," I dared him. "Lie to me again. Tell me that if your places were interchanged, you would seek the company of any other woman. That that is just how good men behave, even to their wives."

"I can't," he denied it.

"Why? The other lies come so easily, why can you not-"

"Because I've only ever wanted you! I-" His jaw locked, pulsing. "I mean to say, I would never want for any woman but you."

That pierced me, more than I would have liked in any instance, and then I didn't know what to do. What to say, or why hearing Mr. Evergreen's admission rattled my calm. I thought of maybe a hundred possibilities, before emitting a simple; "...I want you for you, too."

His face twisted; somewhere between hurt and predator. "Is that right?" he asked.

"You dare accuse your Queen of dishonesty? In a church? I knew you were an idiot but-"

"I do nothing of the sort." He stepped closer, backing me into the altar behind us. There was a clatter of trinkets from off of it.

"Oh!" I panicked, moving to collect them, but he only grinned, watching me as I fumbled. I dropped one of the Saints. "Sorry!" He took him from me as I cleared my throat, and set him down again.

"I just want to hear her say it," he hummed. "How does my Queen want for me? In particular?"

I paused. "She... I ...want you to... to touch me."

He leaned to one side, "You want me to touch you?" His thumb appeared along my cheekbone, and he snuck the rest of his hand into my scattered hair, smoothing it as he went. "I touch you every chance I get. You want more?"

"Y-yes," I muttered. He tamed the other side, but he didn't say anything else. Nervously, "I..." I felt drunk on his air and shut my eyes to refocus.

Cyrus exhaled quietly, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. When I opened again, he was very close, waiting.

"Surely you know what I think about, Cyrus," I gave him.

"Do I?" He kissed me once more. "Certainly we're not discussing bedposts?"

"I... thought to do it. The other night, but I... I don't know how or where to start." He watched as I uttered every humiliating syllable. "I don't understand why it- I just. You're experienced and I'm... I'm so frustrated!" I cried. "I don't know what you do to me! Even when I'm not with you. It's well into the night. And night after night. I'm-"

"Frustrated is a good word for it," he hummed. "I'm afraid I'm quite familiar with the state."

"I don't mean to say... I'm not ready for..."

"Sex?" he asked. "Then you are very fortunate."

"I... am?"

"Aye. There are many things between kissing and sex." He was far too pleased with himself, robbing me of any control I'd held over by my rank. 

"There are?"

"Yes. Plenty of things, my Swan."

"Show me."

"I could, but. What you're asking?" He rested his forehead to mine, whispering. "We can't undo them once they're done. And they will change this; us... forever. ...You should wait. For your wedding night. Your husband."

I bit my lip to stop its quiver, shifting on my feet. Cyrus was between my legs, and though we hadn't actually crossed any lines yet, I could feel the anticipation to do so pulsing off of us; the calm before a storm.

I wanted him, and he wanted permission to want me.

"Touch me," I granted him. "I'm not married, and I don't wish to wait for my husband. I trust you."

"As my Queen commands it," he hissed.

I gripped the lip of the altar, steadying myself, as one of his boots snuck between mine and kicked my legs apart. His hand grazed my thigh, sliding around my back.

I moaned, louder this time; "What if someone discovers us?" worried.

"In this weather?" he asked. His lips travelled to my neck, trailing a string of sweet, careful kisses.

I could've melted into the sensation, his mouth, caressing my skin. "Oo, oof. Are you sure we-?"

"The door is barred. We're perfectly alone; perfectly safe." That word made me shutter. My body took turns tensing and relaxing as he began to gather my skirt together in front of him.

"I'm scared," I muttered.

"Do you want me to stop?" He even paused with the suggestion.

When I shook my head, the linen cascaded down around his wrist; his hand lost beneath. Still, he hesitated before tracing the outer parts of my leg. He inched towards the inner, sensitive, and previously undiscovered territories.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

I nodded, but I was so stressed from how amazing his expedition made me feel, that my lips buzzed- they felt so strange, foreign to my own face.

"Shall I show you why the bedpost works?" he sang. His hand passed over the front of my underwear, and when I gasped, he snickered, doing it again.

"Y-yes," I begged, joining his amusement with an impish giggle I'd never heard from myself. "I want it. I want to know."

"It's the pressure. Here." His finger stopped, directly at the uppermost center of my sex, and though the idea of having a man touch me there, and with no sign of remorse, was excitement of its own, I didn't actually feel anything ground breaking in the act— that is, until he pressed down.

His palm followed, hard, rubbing across me, ebbing away, then back again in long, intentional strokes. One pass after the other, until it was very apparent that I was at his mercy for as long as he would have me.

My breathing changed, too. It took on a new rhythm, and I could feel his eyes fix on every part of me.

Cyrus moved faster; deeper, rougher. He craned forward, bracing his free arm to the table, and pinning me between the wood and himself and I- I leaned back, no longer navigating the way I could react.

Behind us; the stained glass portrait; God himself emerging from clouds in red, yellow, green... Every color I'd ever imagined, and I swear a few I hadn't, rained over on me; my eyes, my chest- in competition with the flickering candle light.  

Now it was in fact, 'pressure' that I could feel, rising from where the two of us intersected. And as he parted his mouth to drag it across my heaving breasts, I so very quietly said his name, "Cyrus!" A near-staccatoed gasp.

Then sharp, after sharp, after sharp breath; desperation! I- "Cyrus, I- I feel-!"

He silenced me, his mouth on mine, passionate, like this was the first and only kiss we could ever have, and I-

Light.

A crash of lightning, to be specific- simultaneous to the powerful, almost metallic outrage in every part of me, even the roof of my mouth, but especially where he had anchored.

It consumed me like a wave, broke over me, and left me shaking on his shore. I collapsed into his arms. Panting, reeling; unable to speak.

Cyrus' eyes found mine, the first to see me in this new state, this metamorphosis that'd he'd not only promised me, but inflicted upon me- swept me into its magic and I...

Rainbows continued to dance across the altar and the floor as the clouds moved, releasing the sun entirely. I no longer heard the effects of stormy weather; somewhere birds chirped again.

I crept up his chest, barely able to touch his jaw with how furiously it trembled, and I thought that he might say something. Anything. But words were replaced with eyes; and lips; soft, slow against each other. We stayed locked in a strange embrace until the tingling had ceased completely, much, much later.

Something had shifted between us.

He was right. Something had changed. Awakened.

In me, in him and in the world that, up until this, this experience, with Cyrus Evergreen, had been eternally dull. Now there were wild hues scattered around me and my heart had left my chest for, I think, Heaven itself, for I had never felt closer to God or His light.

I was the first to speak, "Ridiculous," I scoffed. "How good that felt."

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