ততততত

𝐈 𝐌 𝐎 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍

Elena paces in front of me as a flash of lightning paints the silhouettes of us on my bedroom wall. As the storm rages outside the castle, there's a furious hurricane brewing within these walls due to my antics. Sneaking into the guest wing through the passages and planting the wasp's nest within Leighton's washing chamber was nothing but a breeze. I just hope it's a long while until he reciprocates with his punishment.

"Wasps?" Elena hisses, the hearthlight flashing against her features. "In the washing chamber? What were you thinking?"

"He just needed a reminder that he's not in control of us," I rouse.

Elena shakes her head. "He's enraged about this one, more enraged than he was about stealing his clothes. You should see how swollen he is due to the stings."

I cover my mouth, stifling a sharp laugh.

"Stop laughing," she jeers, but even I catch the humoured smirk perching at the edges of her lips. "The healers and doctors are trying their best to reduce the swelling, considering he can't see out of his left eye."

"He deserved it."

"Just prepare for another conversation with your father tomorrow, okay?" she raises her brows. "He sent me to talk some sense into you, and to warn you that he's not impressed."

Curiosity gets the best of me. "Where else did he get stung?"

"Princess," she warns, but the grin that now spreads across her cheeks tells me that there are plenty of more stings than just his left eye.

Elena leaves me be as she shuts the door to my bedroom. It's here, when the sun dips below the horizon and night begins, that I let my mind wander into a world so far away from this one.

Thunder booms, and the walls shudder at the heaven's obedient roar, and I lay myself on the quilts of my bed. There's intricate designs on my cathedral ceilings, ancient markings placed there long ago by my ancestors. Tobin and I have laid here, both of our gazes locked on the artwork above. Although, his gaze would always fall like stars from the sky and land upon me, his moonbeam. When it was my turn for mine to fall, I'd met the kind brown of his irises, the golden flecks twinkling like constellations.

I imagine tracing the slope of his nose, charting out hidden scars that etch into his olive tanned skin. When my fingertips brush against those kissable lips, they'd curve into a bashful coy smirk. It's strange to think that long ago, he wore a mask to seal his identity, a disguise to hide his breathtaking features and scars.

Stop. Tobin is gone. He's not coming back to this bedroom.

I rise from my bed, unlacing the ribbons of my dress so I can slip into my night clothes. It's an attempt to distract myself from the unmasked thief, and yet my mind still yearns for him. You would think I'd have gotten over him after three weeks, but I still wait for him to knock on my balcony door, to add lumber to the hearth to keep it burning into the depths of the night.

A flash of lightning illuminates the room, dancing off the vanity mirror. In the reflection of the glass, a shadowed figure climbs onto my balcony without a sound or a trace, almost unnoticed if it weren't for the storm. Thunder shakes every dusted surface with one booming roar, followed by another flash of lightning igniting a pair of kind brown eyes. His rain saturated tunic clings against tight muscles, his cowlick matted against his forehead. His knuckles hold the hilt of his sword, the veins in his hand prominent from his strength.

It's Tobin, in all the glory and beauty that he possesses, an image too good to be true.

This must be a figment of my imagination, an ill-advised truth I long to follow. How could Tobin come back, if this is truly him?

No, this must be a dream.

In my dreams, Tobin is welcome. I'll embrace his return, even if he's just a ghost from a tall tale that happened in my past. I'll taunt this phantom of Tobin, because this isn't real.

He's gone forever.

When I know I have his attention, I let the first layer of my dress fall to the floor. Then another. And another.

Those eyes, those illusioned brown eyes... they watch with intent, analyzing every carelessly tossed garment I have strewn across the room. When I'm in nothing more than a bra and panties, I do a brief spin in the firelight, loose moonlight locks cascading behind me like the ocean current. He licks his lips from the other side of the closed glass door, aching for it to be unlocked.

This is a dream, I tell myself. Tobin couldn't have returned when he risked his life for Aspen.

I stalk towards the balcony door, perching myself on tiptoes as I gaze into those kind eyes. They appear so golden in our nightfall, a refuge to follow when danger lurks close by. He must be cold standing in the rain, but I will keep him warm, even if this is just a hallucination of the man I love.

I unlock the door, taking him by the collar of his soaked tunic and hauling him into the sanctuary of my room. His lips crash against mine, his kiss cold yet filled with fire that scorches me. Frigid calloused hands graze over my bare waist, then stomach, then hips. He hoists me up against the damp fabric of his clothes, sending a chill against my skin until I shiver. He's soaked and saturated from head to toe, and yet the skin beneath burns. I am his, and I want him to be mine. Desperately.

When our deepened kiss guides us to the edge of the hearth, I attempt to lay him down. I will strip this phantom of Tobin down to his barest form. I want scars and skin, that soft heart beating steadily against my ear as I sleep against his chest.

But my thief refuses to submit to my silent demands.

He snaps the kiss before I can get a firm grip on his tunic, I hear the first whisper of his low hoarse voice.

"Where's your night dress?" he says.

I try to attack him with another kiss, something awakening in the depths of my feral desire, but he dodges it. He cups my chin, holding my gaze to his own.

"You're not real," I mutter under my breath, trying to convince myself that the man standing before me is a mirage. "This is a dream, because you would never leave Aspen behind."

His brows raise, almost shocked and offended that I don't believe that this is truly him. How could he leave Aspen in Adorid to come back here? His love for his sister surpassed anything we could ever have, just as he should. She needs him.

This is an illusion, a trick to the human eye.

Instead, he asks the question once more: "Where is your night dress?"

When I look towards a dresser, he releases his gentle hold and wanders over, pulling out a clean dress. My cheeks flush at how bare I am before him, because I thought he'd want to catch up on the lost physicality. There's a wildness under my skin that purrs, a wolf wrapped in sheep's skin. Still, my love for him is deeper than just a simple urge to fortify a union. He's tenderness, care, and power wrapped up in this one breathtaking man.

He playfully kisses the tip of my nose, then flashes one of those mischievous smirks. "Arms up."

I raise my arms, and he slips the thin dress over me. The scent of earth and evergreen seeps into the air—the scent of Tobin. My senses heighten, and it's like the world explodes into new hues of kindness. When I press my fingertips to his chest, I feel the thump-thump beneath my fingertips. He's flesh and blood, bones and skin.

This isn't a personification of my wishful thinking. This is Tobin. My Tobin. Scars, soft heart, and sword.

He's not a ghost, nor a dream. He's a thief who still has a task to complete, a task he assigned to himself: steal the princess.

Am I selfish for wishing upon my stars that he would return? That somehow, he'll slay Leighton and free me from my slow, wilting death?

"Did you really come back?" I breathe, my fingers dancing into the waves of his damp hair. "But Aspen—"

"—is strong," that hint of a smile warms my blood. "She's the one who told me to come back to you."

My heart nearly beats out of my chest as if it could leap towards his own. Maybe it does, because I take Tobin's hand in mine, guiding him over to the edge of the burning hearth. He didn't even bother to seek shelter from the storm. Tobin brings my palms over to the buckle of his scabbard. I don't have to ask the question, because Tobin Parias will stay until daybreak.

When he's in nothing more than his trousers, he takes a seat by the firelight, and I step into his proximity. I sit, wrapping my legs around his torso. His forehead brushes against mine, and his fingertips begin to trail up and down my spine until my back arches in the way he wants.

I rummage fingers through the damp locks of his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. "And did Aspen come with you?"

"No," he mutters, his voice hinting at the threads of tension. "She's waiting for you at the castle in Adorid."

"Tobin—"

"It'll be alright," he combs a strand of moonlit hair behind my ear. "We both will be, won't we?"

"But..." The hesitation leaves my lips in a whisper. "You came back for something that's destined to fall apart."

Beneath my fingertips, his heart accelerates out of fear. I have been engulfed in Tobin's arms, a sea that's taken me out at high tide. For my people, I will marry Leighton, but I'm not going down without a battle. Tobin's return tells me that he's willing to fight as well.

"My father longed for a revolution to end the reign of Leighton, and he never made it out alive. I never wanted to be caught up in any of this fucking shit, but everyone I love is chained to him. I need to end this, don't I?"

I swallow. "You want to finish what your father failed."

"Leighton will have you and Aspen wrapped around his fingers," he whispers. "I don't wanna stand there and do jack shit, but I can't do it alone."

His kind brown eyes widen, almost as if he could see straight into my mind. I'd love to see Leighton's demise, to witness his fall from his throne down to the pits of hell, but Tobin is one man against an entire kingdom ready to slit his throat. I'm afraid he'll fall just like his father did, and then what? Who will be my lifeline beyond the betrothal?

I'm selfish for thinking of him as nothing more than a man I love. He's a warrior, a fighter, yet I want to harbor him in the safety of my bed chamber forever. It's something I know I can't do.

"How can I help?"

He hesitates—as the true question awaits on the tip of his tongue—instead ops for a kiss against my bare shoulder. The touch of his lips distracts me in an instant. "Just continue to be that fiery weapon I know you are."

Just wait until he hears what kind of weapon I can be.

Coarse fingertips trail rivulets up my spine as he tempts me with another kiss. In these single chaste kisses, I know he's been waiting for this moment since our final goodbye. All he needed was the approval of his sister, the affirmation that if he left her behind, she would be alright.

I release a delighted giggle. "I put a wasp's nest in Leighton's washing chamber. Apparently, the stings had him swelling like a puffer fish."

My thief erupts in a burst of laughter, and I can't help but join him in our chorus, the sounds of our glee filling the room. I don't give a damn if the guards can hear, because I know they haven't heard me laugh in so long. There hasn't been a person that lights me up like a firefly until I sniped Tobin down with an arrow.

As our laughing stifles, Tobin rolls our bodies over so my back hits the floor beneath him. His trousers remain damp, but he's warm with hope, with light, with love.

With a kiss to my lips, I bask in his breathless confession:

"This is just the beginning," his body meets mine, slow, yet close enough to scrape my nails against his plethora of scars. "My weapon. My moonbeam. Mine."

Neither of us can ever prepare for what is to come for us.

── •✧• ──

Tobigen is BACK! They're more than just back. They're ready to dominate the story. There's plenty of Tobigen content on the way. There's some happy moments, some sad moments, some confused moments, but they're ready to fight for what they have.

*Please note that there will not be another chapter update this weekend, unless I surprise you all, but please accept this early update instead.

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