#etheriangel

𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐓, it had to be here. Smeared in grease, tracking dirt with every step, Aphra couldn’t look more out of place among the ornate halls if she tried ( and she might have, if just to spite them ) . Her captors regarded her with a mix of suspicion and confusion — as if they weren’t quite sure what to do with her. But it was only a matter of time before they brought her to the one in charge. The one that mattered.

And what a sight she was; 𝚁𝙴𝙶𝙰𝙻 atop her throne, a pair of shimmering wings peeking out from behind her shoulders. A lovely picture, if hampered by the fact her fate now rested in those elegant hands. But she supposed no woman was perfect.

He can’t help but chuckle as he dips her, he’s smiling, enjoying her laughter at his dumb faces at this oh so important ball. It’s a little stuffy in his opinion but he came here for her, so he didn’t mind. His hair falls to its side, hanging down as he holds her there, admiring her, and her smile. It had been so long since he’s seen her smile, let alone laugh. He can’t get enough of it. He watches her eyes, before seeing her bite down her lip. It takes him a minute of staring before he suddenly gets the idea. His face turns bright red, his mouth hangs agape... He pulls her in close... until they’re inches away from each other. He bites his own lip, debating whether they should... If they could, here... He feels the tension building as it time seems to freeze with them like that. He’ still entranced. While he was the sorcerer, it almost feels like she’s put a spell on him. 

When was the last time they’ve kissed? He can’t recall. There’s a spark of fear in his heart. He knows full well they both want this, he knows the game she wants to play, and he’s more than happy to join. He worries if it’ll be different somehow, if she’ll somehow find it unsatisfactory. That she’ll shove him away the second their lips meet. He’s quick to shove that though to the back of his mind. He can’t take it anymore. 

He presses his lips against hers. He feels his heart swell, his troubles quickly melting away as he sinks into her. He had forgotten how soft they were, how warm she was. He’d describe it as if it were magic, but this was so much better. He breaks away only to pull her up, to look into her eyes as his own were lit up like stars. He stands up on the tips of his toes, a soft smile on his face. He speaks, but only a whisper, and over the loud music it wouldn’t be able to be heard, but he felt that somehow, she’d know. 

         SHE IS SMALL IN    the  space  that  once  belonged  to  her  father,   a  mess  of  pink  hair  and  sparkles  shedding  tears  into  his  old  pillow.       at  seven  years  old,   it’s  glimmer’s  biggest  fear  that  one  day  her  mother  will   also   vanish  into  thin  air.      the  nightmare  of  a  big,   empty  bed  is  still  fresh  in  her  mind  as  she  clambers  across  the  covers  towards  angella’s  arms.      she  had  hugged  her  father  before  he  left,    so  the  embrace  is  no   PROMISE   that  the  queen  won’t  do  the  same.       she  can  picture  it  with  her  eyes  clenched  shut;    the  moon  lighting  the  room  to  find  only  a  small  princess,   a  terribly  lonely  thing  grasping  at  straws  and  scents  leftover  in  the  unwashed  bedspread.    she  is  too  young  to  face  her  near  immortality,    but  the  weight  of   DEATH   has  never  been  a  stranger.       not  since  that  midnight  soldier  took  micah. 

           but  glimmer  has  been  told  her  mother  will   NEVER   die.       and  as  weighty  as  such  a  statement  is,   it  brings  the  princess  comfort;     especially  now,   as  she  hiccups  against  angella’s  breast.      the   strength   in  her  mother’s  voice  despite  the  late  hour  of  the  night  is  the  only  thing.       it  makes  glimmer  want  to  be  just  as  brave  someday.      maybe  tomorrow,   the  princess  thinks,    she  will  attempt  to  spread  those  little  pink  wings  of  hers:     her  breathing  steadies.     she  begins  to  count  the  moonspots  on  the  wall,   speckled  by  the  intricate  designs  of  the  bedroom  window.       a  tiny,   chubby  hand  with  one  finger  extended  to  keep  track  comes  to  rest  on  angella’s  chest. 

     another      nightmare,                     another    horrible    reminder    of    being    under    that    control.    every    time    she    closes    her    eyes,    she    sees    his      green      stare      grinning    at    her    as    she    sinks    lower    and    lower,    unable    to      breath      or      move.      just    watching    her    as    she    dies,    slowly,    knowing    that    no    one    was    coming    for    her.    no    one    cared    enough    to    come    back    and    save    her.      this      was      it.      these    were    her    final    moments    as    herself           -           and    catra    was      terrified      as    she    jolted    awake.

     she’s      never      had      a      mother      to      go      to      with      nightmares.                     the    only    person    she    relied    on    was      adora,      and    this    was    something    she    didn’t    want    to    bother    her    with.      a      nightmare      of      her      own      making.      she    sits    in    the    hall,    tears    reigning    freely    down    her    cheeks    and    nails    digging    into    her    scalp.    she    just    wants    the    visions      out,      away    from    her.    catra    doesn’t    realize    where    she    is,    that    the    door    next    to    her    has    been      opened      and    the      queen      herself      has    glided    to    her    side.     it    isn’t    until    there’s    a    hand    on    her    back     that    catra    even    lifts    her    head,   suddenly    very    aware    of      everything. 

“Angie...” He holds her close, he’s sure he hasn’t let her go since he laid eyes on her, carrying her to her room, laying her down, lying next to her. Part of him is unsure that this is all really happening, but he’s sure enough that he couldn’t just leave her alone, not like this, not now... His eyes are still red from the tears he shed, and really, the tears have slowed, but not stopped. He’s overwhelmed, a little tired himself. He can’t believe it’s her. It’s her. He hears her speak the first time, her speak I love you to him. More tears fall, he wipes them away, trying not to fall apart again. He can’t let her go. He won’t. He tries to speak, but it threatens to only bring more tears, to force him to lose control of himself, his heart. He bites his lip, as he hears her say it again, the years he spent picturing this moment in his mind, he never imagined it like this. He pulls her in close, a hand running through her hair. It all felt so real to him, at the same time it all felt like some kind of dream, and he couldn’t tell which it was. She speaks again, he can hear the exhaustion in her voice as she falls asleep. He opens his mouth to speak again, only his voice is shaky and barely audible. 

He is distant. At least until she rests her shoulder onto him, her adoring him and showing him the love he so desperately craved for over a decade was more than welcoming. He wraps an arm around her, holds her close so she could be secure with him, but partially so he could keep her right there. Her warmth and comfort brings him down from his previously stressed out state. He lets out a sigh, before looking into her eyes, getting lost in their beautiful violet hue... He brings a hand up to her hair, slowly running his fingers through them, contemplating. He didn’t want to ruin this moment they had, not for anything... Honestly, now that he was back... He felt almost as if everything was-... 

His eyes widened when the realization hit him. How could have he forgotten that perfect world? Where he had spent his days together with his family, without a care in the entire world. When it fell apart. When he lost.... 

He took his hand from her hair and cradled her cheek with it, staring at her face, as if he was trying to confirm something. This all felt real, though what if... One day it wasn’t? What if he was all in a dream and- He heard her again. Her soft voice. Telling him that everything was alright. His gaze softened, before he rested his own head against her. It’s barely above a whisper, but it could still be heard by both her and him. 

“Angie?” He’s brought down to earth by her touch. He moves to pull away for a second, fear clear in his eyes. He then hears her voice again, comforting him. He sits there, his breathing heavy, fast, like he was running from something. He wraps his arms around her, burying his face into her shoulder. 

“I... I’m sorry I..” He trembles in her arms. It’s all so loud... It’s in his head but... He grips the fabric of her shirt, trying to ground himself and be with her again, but it’s all so much. It’s too much.