#freylas

The first Valentine's Day Dylas had spent in Selphia had been inconsequential and quickly forgotten. A day of festivities and excitement he had passed up for quiet, serene solitude. Things had changed much over the span of a year.

The energetic girl who'd refused to leave him alone had now become an irreplaceable figure in his life. A friend. Someone he trusted. Someone who would smile at him without a second thought, who wouldn't judge him for his scars, his wounds, his past. Someone who had taken his heart long ago.

Dylas was busy trying to push those thoughts from his mind, trying to hook another portion of bait onto his line, when movement caught his eyes. His heart skipped. The bait slipped from his fingers, plinking into the crystal clear water and disappearing with a flurry of fish and ripples. He froze, halfway between crouching and standing. Frey smiled at him, carrying a handful of cookies wrapped in a fancy, semi-opaque cloth and tied with a neat bow.

Valentine's Day cookies.

"Hey, Dylas!" Frey greeted him, his heart singing with delight at the soft cadence of her voice. "Caught anything?"

"N-Not yet." He stole his eyes away from her dazzling smile before it rendered him completely and utterly speechless. She stole the wind from his sails with a simple smile. His heart flopping as though she'd knocked his feet out from under him, as though she'd reeled him in like a fish, leaving him out to dry on the hard ground. Unable to think or breathe. Baking in the warmth of her smile.

"That's unusual," she noted with an adorable tilt of her head. "Maybe the fish are a bit spooked for some reason?"

Spooked from the scowl he'd worn earlier in an attempt to focus on anything else but her distance laughter.

"Maybe…"

Treacherous heat burned his cheeks. He glanced at her again, at the cookies in her hand, and his stomach churned involuntarily. Sweets. The one thing he couldn't handle. He swallowed thickly, tasting acidic bile in the back of his throat.

Frey curled the cookies into her hands, holding them behind her quickly. Took a sharp step back. "Oh, well that's… a shame…"

Her smile was gone. A flash of panic, a flicker of emotions Dylas couldn't read washing over her face as she straightened. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Anyway, I've got to go. See you later!" Frey said hurriedly. She dashed away before Dylas could respond, before he could read any further into the hard line of her jaw or the tremble of her hands.

She was gone, leaving Dylas' heart to drop into his stomach.

The cookies weren't for him.

-

Dylas caught nothing the whole day. His mind wandered and wandered, running off without him as he spent the whole day at a secluded lake, his line dangling absently in the water long after the bait had been nibbled off. His heavy, dejected sighs filled the silence. Mortified grunts at how stupidly hopeful he had been. A heavy weight settled on his shoulders, his heart, making it difficult to move and impossible to care.

He trudged back to town later in the evening. He turned to head back home when he stared straight at the castle, his mind filling with her. A painful vice clamped his heart and Dylas whirled and trudged towards the lake instead. His legs powered him onward with long, quick strides, blocking out the murmurings of excitement in the air around him with a scowl.

The silence around the lake wrapped him in a cold blanket of fresh air. Dylas breathed a harsh sigh, seeking a spot on the lake shore to settle down, when a quiet, fractured sob met his ears. He startled, snapping his attention to a figure curled up on the ground in the shade beneath a tree. Legs drawn up to their chest, head buried in their knees. Long hair pouring down their back in delicate pigtails.

Frey.

It was Frey, her body curled into itself, small and fragile and tight. Her shoulders quivered with almost silent sobs, stolen gasps that filtered through the quiet evening air. A handful of broken cookies lay in the dirt beside her.

The fishing rod dropped from Dylas' fingers. He moved before he could think, before the next heavy beat of his heart, and was by her side in an instant. She flinched at the sound of his footsteps crunching in the sand. Didn't raise her head. Her arms drew tighter around her legs and Dylas stilled, his hand hovering inches from her shoulder as he knelt beside her.

"Frey…?"

Slowly, she lifted her head from her knees at his voice, her eyes wet with tears, swollen and red. The skin on her knees was raw and darkened with dirt. She dusted the sand, the flakes of dirt and dried blood off her knees as if Dylas wasn't there. She gazed off ahead of them, vacant and impassive. A shadow over her eyes.

Dylas' heart sunk. He looked at the fractured cookies in the sand, the crumbled cloth and ribbon discarded beside them.

She'd been rejected.

"I'm… sorry…" Dylas said quietly. Swallowed tightly when she flinched again, forcing down the lump in his throat. "I don't know what to say in circumstances like this but… whoever it was, they made a mistake in hurting you like this."

Frey turned her head to face him, her cheek resting on her knees. A question, confusion, washed over her eyes.

Dylas' cheeks burned hotly under her inquisitive gaze. "Y-You were rejected, right…? Someone didn't accept your cookies… that- that can't be easy to deal with."

She blinked at him, the remains of her tears fading.

"I'm sure there's other people who would accept your cookies," Dylas continued, the words pouring out like water from a broken dam. "Other people who… who care about you as well…"

Frey straightened. Dylas' breath caught sharply in his throat. He stared down at the cookies, unable to meet her eyes.

"Dylas… you were the one who rejected my cookies, though."

Dylas gawked at her. Mouth dropping open in a thunderclap of confusion. "What?"

She frowned, mirroring his confusion. "They were for you. I was going to give them to you but…" She glanced away. "You looked so disgusted when you saw them, I couldn't…"

"They were… for me…?" He couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak with his heart jammed high in his throat, a surge of heat shooting through his veins as his mind whirled.

Frey nodded slowly. His gaze fell to the broken cookies. Discarded and soiled. Dylas grabbed a fragment of a cookie and shoved it in his mouth without a thought.

"Wait, Dylas!" Frey cried. "Th-That's been on the ground!"

He winced at the crunch of sand, the sickly sweet buttery cookie melting on his tongue with the taste of dirt. He smouldered in suffocating heat, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he chewed and crunched through the cookie. She watched him with wide eyes.

Dylas swallowed forcibly. "It's… not bad. Pretty good, actually, when you get past the layer of sand."

Frey's mouth twitched in a sympathetic, yet confused, smile. "You didn't have to eat it…"

"You… you said it was for me. So…."

She nodded. "I thought you didn't want them. The way you looked at them earlier… I thought you were disgusted at the thought of receiving cookies from me…"

"What?! No, I would never-! I… I would be…" He couldn't meet her eyes. Struggled to hold her gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and the lake, the trees, the darkening sky. "I would be… happy to receive cookies from you…"

"Then why did you look so grossed out this morning?"

Dylas swallowed again, trying to remove the last grains of sand off his teeth and tongue. "I… don't like sweet things. I can't stand anything sweet like that."

"Oh, but you just…?" She motioned to the cookies, raising an eyebrow.

"Th-That was because you made them for me! I wasn't going to reject anything from you…"

"Oh."

Dylas couldn't breathe as a warm silence descended over them. His chest felt too tight. His lungs, his heart, fluttering with dizzying heat as his mind scrambled for something to say.

"Can I try again?" Frey said finally, breaking the silence. "If it's alright with it being a day late…?"

Dylas looked at her, took in the gentle, bashful smile she gave him. "What…?"

"Let me try again. I'll change up the recipe, make it less sweet for you. If you'll accept it?"

"Y-Yeah." Dylas nodded slowly, stiffly. Unable to think past the disbelief that this was actually happening.

"I know cookies are the tradition here but… how about a carrot cake? Would that be alright?"

He nodded again. Speechless and breathless. Warm despite the cool breeze coasting by. Her smile was warm like the sun.

Frey collected the broken cookies into the cloth, scrunching it up in her hand. "Then, I'll come by the restaurant after closing. I'm sure to have perfected it by then!"

"O-Okay." He stood when she did, his lungs emptying as she smiled.

Frey leant over the top of Dylas, swinging a leg graceful so that she straddled him. She planted her hands on either side of his head and sank her weight right over his hips.

Dylas choked on a strangled gasp, his body crackling alive with a rush of burning heat that shot up and down his veins, his body, and curled darkly on his cheeks. His length throbbed beneath her weight.

"Wh-Wh-What are you-?!" He slapped a hand over his face, instinctively trying to hide his blush, his embarrassment, from the seductive woman leaning over him.

Frey took his hand, peeling it away from his face and pressing a slow kiss to the underside of his wrist.

"Just follow my lead," she said, her words hot against the skin of his wrist. Her eyes, dark and swirling with want, stole his breath away. He swallowed thickly, unable to choke a single word in reply.

Frey closed the tortuous distance between them, capturing his lips with a soft, slow kiss before she rolled her hips against his hardening length. The glorious sound Dylas crooned in his throat split the heady silence.

She pulled back slightly, dusting her lips lightly against his with an amused smile. "Did you just…?"

"N-No!" Dylas barked in protest. "Sh-Shut up!" His mind swam with heat and need and want, filling his lungs with gulps of thin air that didn't satisfy in the slightest.

Frey smirked and teased his bottom lip between hers. She shifted her weight, easing off the growing bulge in his pants to settle further down his thighs before sliding up again. Slower this time, slower and barely there. The slightest friction, a ghosting of her core up his aching length that made Dylas buck his hips to meet hers. He choked on a gruff, harsh groan in his throat.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that sounded almost like a-"

"D-Don't!" Dylas gasped when her tongue traced his bottom lip.

He grasped her thighs desperately, sinking his head back into the pillow with a needy whine. His lips parted with need and Frey obliged, delving her wet tongue into his mouth. She swallowed his moan. Pressed her lips firmly against his and melding them together with a passionate, dizzying kiss. His fingers dug into her thighs when she rolled her hips against his erection. Frey smiled into the kiss, curling her tongue around his before slowly pulling back and studying the sight beneath her.

Dylas was breathless and panting. Stunned and delightfully aroused with wide eyes and wet, kiss-swollen lips. A striking blush coloured his face a dark crimson, washing down his neck in a bloom of colour that disappeared beneath his collar. His pupils had blown wide and dark, a thin ring of gold remaining behind the haze of lust. He swallowed thickly, Frey following the movement, the bob of his throat, with a flutter of pride in her chest.

Gods above, he was a glorious sight.

Frey cupped Dylas' burning cheeks with her hands, her smile softening and amorous as she gazed down at him. His eyes flickered away and back again, struggling to meet hers.

"Oh, Dylas…" Frey sighed heavenly. She brushed her thumbs across his scorching cheeks as he shied his gaze away from her again. "There's so much I want to do to you…"

A breathless moan rumbled in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut as he shivered beneath her. His gasp brushed her lips as she swept a gentle kiss against the corner of his mouth. His lips trembled, quivering slightly, beneath the faint trace of her kiss.

"Do… whatever you want to me…" Dylas breathed in a sharp whisper, an honest, wanton gasp broken and fractured with need.

Frey continued her featherlight kisses, sliding her fingers down his cheeks to dust his jaw before trailing down the flushed skin of his neck. He twitched and shivered from the gentle caress, bringing a delighted smile to her face. She deftly undid his collar and began to work at removing his vest as she deepened the kiss once more. His pliant lips parted for her tongue and she began to unravel him with her kisses and her touches.

She ached to hear him moan again, to satisfy the throbbing need between her thighs. With a quick flip of her skirt, Frey shifted the fabric from between her legs so she could rock her clit firmer against his length. The friction of her clothed clitoris against his bulging erection made her moan into Dylas' mouth with a forceful kiss. She yanked his shirt off with desperate tugs, their teeth clacking in the process as she refused to break the sloppy dance of their lips and tongues. Their chests heaved together as Frey leant over him. Her knees dug into the mattress on either sides of his hips as she bucked harder, firmer, against his erection.

The sensation was dizzying. Electrifying and frantic with stolen gasps and moans as a throbbing pressure built and built in her core. Dylas' grip on her thighs tightened, pulling her harder against him with a sharp grunt that spilled into Frey's mouth.

Frey stopped. Stopped rocking her hips against him, stopped their messy, desperate kisses and withdrew her tongue from the depths of his mouth. Dylas gasped and panted breathlessly, staring up at her with a haze of confusion and lust clouding his golden eyes. For a moment, Frey almost gave in to the roaring desire in her blood to continue, to come against him here and now, and forced herself to still and catch her breath.

There was more she wanted to do than dry hump against Dylas until they both came. So much more.

Frey lifted her weight off Dylas' straining erection and an inebriated sigh, a desperate croon, left his throat. Her core throbbed and pooled with heat at that sound. It made her knees wobble as she tried to steady herself above him. Gods, he was so damn alluring.

Dylas' bare chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, a faint layer of sweat glistening on his skin. He blinked at her in a daze. She took the moment to swallow, to calm the lustful fog in her mind, and think through what she wanted. She met his eyes, studying his response as she placed her hands just below his shoulders, letting her fingers settle against his skin. He still blinked at her, confused and wanting.

It almost made her laugh.

A small giggle left her lips as she smiled and smoothed her fingers across his pecs.

"Wh-What?" Dylas flushed as she continued tracing the hard lines of his muscles with her fingers. The embarrassed sound, a sharp bark in the silence, filled a warm bubble in her chest.

"You're stunning," she sighed, sliding her hands down his abs and back up again slowly.

The muscles flexed beneath her touch, hard and smooth and warm. Faint scars littered his skin in lines of white that she purposely ignored. As much as she'd always professed to love them, to love every inch and surface of him, marred or not, Dylas still had a hard time comprehending that. Instead, Frey dusted her fingers down to the hard lines of his hips, thumbing the sharp angle of bone.

"Y-You…!" A single word broke on Dylas' tongue.

He always got like this, speechless and flustered, whenever his heart got the better of him. During nights or early mornings of passion, words would begin to fail him. Tongue twisted and strangled with gasps. His reactions to her touches, her words of love, never failed to send a ripple of heat through her veins. A shot of confidence, a torrent of desire, coursed through Frey and she stole a deep breath.

"There's something I'd like to try…" she said slowly and trailed her eyes up Dylas' body to meet his.

He swallowed, waiting for her to continue. She reached up and undid the ribbons from her hair, letting it fall down her back in long waves. The heavy rise and fall of Dylas' chest as he watched spurred her onward. She held the ribbons up in one hand.

"Can I… tie your hands up?" she asked with a coy tilt of her head, a bashful smile pursing her lips.

"Wh… What…? Why- Why would you-?" Dylas tensed, a curl of pink washing over his shoulders as his blush doubled in intensity.

"You said I could do whatever I wanted to you," she reminded him, and herself, to stop her confidence from fracturing. "I'll be gentle, I promise. It's just so I can have my way without your interference, that's all."

Otherwise, he might end up cutting this whole adventure short with those long, deft fingers of his. She wasn't about to have him push through her teasing before she got what she wanted. It was her time to have fun with him - her time to take his reins and enjoy herself.

Dylas cut his eyes away, turning his head to the side bashfully. "F-Fine… do what you want."

"Thanks, Dally." She pressed a slow kiss to the side of his lips, lingering so he could turn and accept it fully. "Just tell me if it's too much at any time and I'll stop, okay? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Frey climbed off him and sat on the edge of their bed by Dylas' head, taking his wrists and raising them above his head and setting them against the headboard. He glanced up at her as she worked, tying his wrists to the corner post of the bed with her white ribbons. She gave it a firm tug and nodded.

"How's that? Not too tight? Is it going to hold?"

Dylas tested the knots, pulling his wrists a few times. "It's… weird." He frowned in confusion, shifting his wrists as much as he could. "How did you come up with this?"

"Oh, I read it in a book." She smirked knowingly at him and climbed over his legs to settle on his thighs. "It's full of very interesting topics."

Dylas' jaw twitched, his fingers flexing behind his head. Frey's smile grew. It was working. A smug glimmer of confidence trickled into her veins as she smoothed her hands over Dylas' stomach, making his muscles flex. He watched her, pupils blowing wide and dark with desire. She felt almost giddy with power as she teased her fingers down the faint trail of hair beneath his navel, making his hips buck involuntarily. A sharp gasp hissed through his teeth as she traced the sensitive skin above the waistband of his pants. The bulge of his erection tented the fabric a few inches away.

Frey couldn't keep the delighted, giddy grin off her face at how reactive Dylas was to her touch. She leant forward, hovering over him to plant a delicate kiss on his lips. Her hands traced upwards in a slow dance of teasing fingers and light touches, feeling every twitch and shiver of his skin in a journey up his taught body, to the hard lines of his jaw and into his soft hair. She hummed gently against his mouth. Graced her teeth against his bottom lip and pulling lightly to make him gasp. His hips lifted off the mattress, bucking sharply against nothing but air as her hips settled high above his stomach.

Frey sank her tongue into Dylas' mouth in the same moment that she drew her hands up and cupped his soft ears. She swallowed his needy moan, drinking his cries and feeling them rumble into her mouth. She teased the outline of his ears with her finger and thumb, coaxing a whimper from Dylas' chest. He shuddered beneath her, the wooden post creaking as he tugged on the ribbons with each roll of his hips.

It filled Frey with dizzying warmth. She lapped at his tongue as his kisses turned desperate and hurried. A tangle of tongues and lips as he stole broken gasps whenever their lips parted. He lifted off his pillow to meet her kisses, to force them firmer and harder and deeper. Frey cupped his cheeks, relinquishing his ears from her tortuous ministrations, and slowed their kiss. She gave his tongue a final lick before pulling back completely.

Dylas sank onto the bed with harsh pants. His chest heaved, eyes struggling to open in a fuzzy haze of lust. He sucked in a sharp, tight breath when her hands reached his belt. The buck of his hips as her fingers worked off his belt made the corner of Frey's mouth lift in a smirk. Her heart thundered in her chest with pounding anticipation that echoed in her core. The whisper of his belt as she slipped it free was deafening. She tried not to focus on the obvious straining of his cock as she undid the button and zip of his pants. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and Dylas lifted his hips in compliance. With a swift yank, Frey pulled his pants and underwear off and discarded them to the side.

The sharp intake of air from Dylas made her chest swim with heat. He gaped at her, still fully clothed, as she settled on his thighs mere inches from his aching erection. He snapped his head to the side, avoiding her gaze. Unable to watch, though she saw the way he swallowed in anticipation. She kept her eyes on his face, watching intently, as she traced a single finger up the underside of his shaft.

Dylas' eyes squeezed shut, head sinking back into his pillow as a silent puff of air hissed through his teeth. His reaction was glorious. The way he clenched his jaw, brow furrowing and trembling as she caressed the length of his cock with the bare tips of her fingers. A barely there, featherlight touch, as soft as a gentle breeze, was enough to force a deep, guttural groan from Dylas' chest. The sound jolted right through Frey, straight to her core. She shifted slightly at the insistent, throbbing ache between her thighs.

Soon, she told herself, and swallowed. Very, very soon.

There was more she wanted to do.

Frey slid her fingers up Dylas' length to the tip, curling her fingers around the head of his cock and twisting her wrist gently.

"Hnng…!" Wood creaked as Dylas bucked his hips sharply into her hand. His mouth dropped open, eyes still forced shut as he refused to look at her. Each breath he took was loud and heavy through clenched teeth.

Frey repeated the motion of her wrist, drawing another long groan from Dylas. The sounds he made were low and deep, like a rumble of thunder in his chest that shot lightning through her veins. Frey curled her other hand around the base of his cock and worked him slowly as beads of precum leaked from the tip. She swiped her thumb over his tip, collecting the thick liquid and smoothing it down his length with a slow pump of her hand.

The strangled groan Dylas made sounded suspiciously like her name. He still wasn't looking at her.

"Dally," Frey called sweetly. "You're missing the show."

He grunted sharply in reply, turning his face harder into the pillow. His whole face was flushed with a heat that trickled down across his chest in a furious wash of crimson. It was beautiful.

"Your loss," Frey hummed.

She took her right hand away from his length, continuing to trace her fingers up and down with her left, and watched Dylas' face as she moved to plant her lips on the side of his cock.

His eyes stole open with a strangled gasp of disbelief and pleasure, a moan and a protest in a single sound. Frey blinked at him demurely, pressing the side of his erection against her pert lips. A balked sound escaped him as she began to kiss his length, moving her soft, warm lips against his burning skin. His chest heaved in panic, in lust, and Frey saw a torrent of emotions crash behind his eyes as he stared owlishly at her. She kept her eyes fixed on his, meeting his gaze, and slid her tongue up his shaft.

"F-Fuck…!" Dylas cried with a ripple of sharp bucks of his hips in pleasure. He groaned through his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Frey almost stopped in disbelief, her tongue pressed firmly to his throbbing length, before she caught herself and continued. She hadn't expected that kind of reaction, the loud groan he'd made stealing the air from her lungs. She ached like never before, her core throbbing as hard, as deafening as her heart.

Who knew Dylas could sound like that?

Frey lifted her mouth off Dylas' length, sitting up on his thighs again to catch her breath. A low moan of protest escaped his lungs as she took her hand away and stood. She worked quickly at her dress, dropping it to the floor before taking off her bra and panties as well. She turned back to Dylas, saw him staring, mouth agape.

A spike of heat jolted down her spine as Dylas drank in her naked body, swallowing thickly as she nestled over his thighs again.

"How are you feeling?" Frey asked softly, giving him a gentle smile. "Was that okay?"

Dylas blinked. His mouth opened and shut a few times in stunned silence. Frey giggled at how speechless he was, making Dylas grumble in his chest.

"Should I take that as a positive?" she teased, tracing her fingers up the outside of his thighs.

"You… you're impossible…" Dylas managed to choke out. "Of course it… was okay…"

"Just okay?" She tilted her head with a knowing smile. "You made all those glorious sounds and it was just okay?"

"Sh-Shut up…!"

"Well, maybe we should stop then, if it's not that good for you…" Frey made to move off his lap and Dylas jumped slightly.

"No, don't!"

"Oh?"

Dylas flustered under her gaze, pursing his lips firmly as he struggled to meet her eyes. "Gods, Frey, it… you felt so good, I… I need… I don't want you to stop…"

Good enough.

"I don't want to stop either," she sighed dreamily and splayed her hands across his chest as she shifted higher, shifted so that she hovered right over his length.

Dylas tensed beneath her, his muscles going taut and hard under her fingers. She angles her hips forward and pressed her core against the length of Dylas' aching cock. Slowly, she slid her clitoris up his length, pressing firmly against him.

Dylas' groan echoed her own at the wondrous pressure against her throbbing clit. Frey sank down onto him so that his cock pressed against his stomach and she could rock her clit on his length. She rolled her hips, body shuddering with pleasure at the sensation. He was so hot and hard and perfect, it felt so good that Frey sighed a desperate moan as she dragged her soaking core up his length and drenched him in her fluid.

"Mm, Dally…!" Frey moaned, her eyes fluttering shut in absolute pleasure.

She teased herself against his length, revelling in the heat of his erection, in the pressure of his cock between her folds as she nuzzled her clitoris on his tip with sharp rolls of her hips. Her body was electric, blood pulsing and burning. She undulated her hips again and again as a coil of heat and pleasure tightened in her core. She soaked Dylas' cock, their hips rocking together with slick, sloppy movements and gasps.

Frey managed to catch herself before she succumbed to that feeling and lifted herself off Dylas' stomach. He whined in a desperate, pleading breath before she took his length in her hand and angled him towards her entrance.

"Dylas, I… I need, I need you…!" Frey said with broken gasps. She gripped his hip for purchase, her thighs trembling and aching to sink onto him. To take him completely, to have him fill her up until she couldn't take anymore.

Gods, she wanted him inside her right now.

"Yes…!" Dylas groaned and it was all Frey needed to lower herself onto him.

Frey gasped as he entered her, stretching her walls and filling her slowly, achingly slowly, until her hips sank onto his. She throbbed around him. Twitched and clenched at the sensation of being filled, the clamping of her walls making Dylas moan. He filled her so easily, she was so wet and aroused that there had been no resistance at all and it felt so good, too good, and Frey rolled her hips instinctively.

Dylas grunted as she began to move, his hips rolling with her. The creaking of the wooden post his hands were tied to was lost beneath their moans. Dylas bucked, desperate for more friction, and Frey obliged, lifting slightly off him and sinking down again. They rocked together, their hips meeting with slick, sloppy sounds and movements, Dylas thrusting up to meet her every time. He drove deep inside her and when Frey sank forward slightly to kiss him, his next thrust hit that perfect spot inside her walls that made her see stars. She latched onto his hair, her fingers winding into his soft hair as she kissed him desperately, needy and aching as she rocked in time with his thrusts. She slid a hand between their bodies to roll her clit as she felt a hot coil tighten and tighten in her belly, hot and throbbing and aching, Gods it ached.

Something tore. Hands grabbed Frey's hips and pulled her harder, firmer onto Dylas as his hips pistoned to meet her. He hugged her tight, pulling her flush against him with sharper, faster thrusts as he pounded into her with a newfound need, a newfound desperation and intensity. Frey moaned into his mouth, swallowing his gasps and groans, and the coil snapped inside her, releasing a torrent of pleasure through her body. Her walls convulsed and clamped around him as she rocked desperately through her orgasm. She cried his name, a loud, shuddering cry as she came around him and Dylas unravelled. He threw his head back with a heavy moan and snapped his hips quickly against hers as he came. He spilled inside her with a few sharp thrusts as she rolled out the remaining sparks of her orgasm around him.

Frey twitched around his length as he sank, boneless beneath her. Her core throbbed, sensitive and still reactive from her orgasm. With wobbly legs and weak arms, Frey drew herself off Dylas. His softening length slid out of her, coated thick in his cum and her juices. Frey flushed as she felt it leak from her, dripping between her thighs, and crawled off Dylas to lie on the bed beside him as they caught their breath.

Their heavy breathing filled the silence. Frey glanced towards Dylas and he shifted, standing from the bed with a wobbly step. Frey stifled her grin and watched him retrieved the tissue box from her cupboard, cleaning himself up before handing it to her. He didn't meet her eyes.

Frey cleaned herself, tossing the tissues in the bin, before it dawned on her.

"You broke my ribbons!" she gasped, staring at the tattered remains tied around the corner of their bed.

Dylas winced. "O-Oh. Sorry…"

His expression dropped and Frey sat beside him, taking his hand.

"It's okay. Forget about the ribbons." She smiles softly at him and he nodded slowly. "They're a small sacrifice to make for what we just did."

A blush crawled up his cheeks, making Frey laugh.

"Who would've thought that you'd enjoy that so much… although, it makes sense."

He raised a confused eyebrow at her.

"Well, you seem to enjoy being ridden like a-"

"D-Don't you dare!" Dylas balked, flushing darkly.

"What? It's true-!"

"Sh-Shut up! That's…! That's got nothing to do with anything…!"

Frey laughed and laughed. Her heart felt full and warm and she wrapped Dylas up in a hug as she laughed. He mumbled a protest but settled into her arms, nuzzling his face into her shoulder.

"I love you, Dally," she said, sighing into their embrace.

Dylas was already trying not to fluster as she held his hand so casually. His throat had closed in on itself, clamping down on any words of protest he could think of. He desperately cut a glance around them, fighting the desire to flee, hoping no one would see them like this.

He grumbled when she tugged on his hand. “Fine.” He clamped his eyes shut and felt her tug on his hand again. This time, he followed that pull.

With his eyes shut, all he could focus on was the warmth of her hand. How it felt in his own. He could hear her footsteps ahead of his, light and softly tapping on the cobblestones. His sounded loud and clunky, almost drowning hers.

They passed into shade and Dylas craned his ears curiously. He turned his head, still keeping his eyes shut, wondering where exactly Frey was leading him. Not that he minded. If she held his hand she could lead him around the village and back and he wouldn’t care.

“Oh?” he heard Ventuswill coo. “Where are you two going?”

“Venti!” Frey spluttered and tugged on Dylas’ hand, dragging him faster through what must’ve been the castle. Venti laughed and soon Dylas found himself bathed in hot sunlight once more. Instead of the hard click of cobblestones, dirt crunched beneath his feet.

She was leading him through her farm, he realised, as the scent of earth and fertiliser filled his nose. He was amazed at just how much he trusted her. He was practically blind, eyes shut, and he hadn’t once stumbled.

When the coolness of shade embraced them once more, Dylas frowned until he breathed in the scent of fodder, the shuffling of many feet across the floor. They were in her monster barn. What she had for him here, he didn’t know. He followed without comment as they continued deeper into the barn.

Soon, they came to a stop, but Frey didn’t release Dylas’ hand. Instead, she gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You can open your eyes now,” she said.

When he did, and his eyes focused on the sight before him, he hadn’t been prepared. His breath caught in his lungs, fear seizing him in a vice grip. Thunderbolt stood before him in all its glory. And Frey walked up to it.

“Don’t–!” Dylas cried as she dropped her hand, as she reached out towards the beast. And it nuzzled her hand. The fear inside him crashed all of a sudden, leaving him dumfounded and confused. He wanted as Frey ran her hand up Thunderbolt’s neck, before brushing its mane gently. It pressed its muzzle into her shoulder and she laughed.

Frey turned to Dylas and he wasn’t sure if it was her smile or how comfortable she was with Thunderbolt that left him speechless.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” she said, before pressing a kiss to Thunderbolt’s forehead. A spear of heat shot through Dylas.

She’d kissed Thunderbolt. A beast that he’d once been. He flustered at the sight and a burning heat crept up his neck, spreading to his cheeks and ears.

Frey reached out to him and Dylas took her hand without thinking. Almost in a daze. He only realised what he’d done, what she’d done, when she pressed his hand to Thunderbolt’s neck. He jolted as the beast shifted beneath his hand, but didn’t pull away.

Being so close to Thunderbolt now, he realised that it truly was beautiful. Its mane was a striking purple, its skin a deep black. It was lean and muscular, the air dazzling with magic around it. Thunderbolt blinked calmly and leant into Dylas’ touch.

He couldn’t tell if there was a shred of recognition in Thunderbolt’s crimson eyes.

“Why…?” Dylas asked as Frey got to work brushing and smoothing down Thunderbolt’s mane.

“Hmm…” Frey sounded, pausing her brushing while she thought. “Because it was a challenge?”

He almost sighed. That was definitely something she’d do.

“I don’t know. He seemed kind of lonely,” she said. “Just like someone else I know.”

“What are you talking about?” Dylas huffed. Frey just laughed.

“It took me a while, and a whole bunch of carrots, but I tamed him,” Frey beamed. “Even though he looks scary on the outside, he’s nothing to fear.” She pressed a gentle kiss to Thunderbolt’s neck, resuming her brushing.

Dylas’ heart fluttered at the connotation in her words. At the sight of her kissing Thunderbolt again. She glanced at him, saw the heat colouring his cheeks, and laughed.

“He’s a big softie once you get to know him,” she said, and deliberately, slowly, wrapped her arms around Thunderbolt’s neck. The beast nuzzled into her, shooting a spike of vile jealousy through Dylas. He stiffened at the sight as if someone had shoved a pole down his spine.

“Y-You shouldn’t hug him– it. It’s still dangerous!” Dylas spluttered.

“Aw,” Frey cooed. “I think he really enjoys my hugs, though.”

Dylas grumbled as she didn’t move, as she continued hugging the beast. There’s no way he could admit he was jealous. He had no right to be. There was nothing between them in the first place. Oh, but how he wished he was the beast in her arms.

Frey stepped away from Thunderbolt, dusting herself off. “He’s nothing to fear. He just takes a while to adjust to strangers, that’s all.”

Like someone else she knew.

“You just… tamed him because it was a challenge?” Dylas asked.

Frey thought about it for a moment, a light smile still on her face. “Because I didn’t think he should be something to fear. And I got along with you fine.” She grinned at him and he scowled, which only made her laugh. “I’m kidding.”

She seemed so happy. Truly. There wasn’t a hint of worry in her eyes, no exhaustion, nothing like it had been after Venti’s disappearance. And he couldn’t help but wonder why him. Why did she bring him here, show him something like this?

“Why did you want to show me?” he asked before he could think about it.

“Because, in a sense, Thunderbolt was you for a time,” she said. “And I didn’t want you to think back at what you did, what happened to you, with fear.” She blushed now, turning her eyes away. “I thought you might like it. Seeing Thunderbolt again.”

His body warmed from within, as if her words were some kind of healing light, as if she were weaving a strange kind of magic. But it wasn’t magic. He knew exactly what this feeling was.

“Thank you,” he said. His smile froze her on the spot. It stole her breath, her words, and completely floored her more than anything he’d done before. It was gentle and kind and full of something she’d never seen in his eyes before.

When they first met, Frey wasn’t very adept at fishing. Her rod was flimsy and old. She took to it like a fish to land, struggling, tangling herself up in the line, failing to cast far from shore.

He barely spared her a glance, though he felt her gaze. Felt her study him, from the way he lounged on the sand, to the tip of his finger that barely graced his fishing line. She spent so much time watching him that when a fish tugged her line, she panicked and promptly fell into the lake.

Her yelp pierced the air, like a hail of a thousand daggers down his spine. He jolted, a fear he’d never felt, surging through him. She was gone. Beneath the waters, beneath the ripples, the bubbles, the shattered calm.

He almost tore into the water after her. Before she surfaced in the knee-deep water. And laughed. Dripping wet, the water sparkling in her hair like diamonds, she laughed.

Dylas frowned. He didn’t understand her one bit.

He didn’t understand her curiosity. The way she’d approach him, a glimmer in her eyes, questions on her lips. Those lips that he, more often than he’d admit, had to force his gaze from.

He’d deny her any answers. There was no point in her knowing. His birthday was nothing to be celebrated. She had no reason to know his favourite food. He turned from her, again and again, but she never failed to follow.

And she was always following him. Despite his glares, despite his curt answers.

When she asked what his type was, he barked at her to shut up.

She only laughed.

Frey was quick to discover what foods Dylas didn’t like, after bringing him fresh ice cream that she’d made minutes earlier. He couldn’t hide, nor did he want to, the disgust on his face. He thought she’d brush it off, laugh it off, and was stunned when her face dropped.

That face stayed in his mind the rest of the day.

He thought that would be the end of it, but Frey was more persistent than that. She brought him new foods almost every day, always with a smile. That radiant smile that had him pause. More than once, his words caught in his throat.

He began to wonder why. Why she would approach him, of all people.

Was this a game to her? Or something else?

He couldn’t deny the energy in her smile. The energy she brought, bubbly, full of life.

Like the sun. Like the first week of spring, or the early hours of dawn. She was something people treasured. A hero to the people. Their princess.

And yet, she spent her time with him. The beast from the ruins.

She was like porcelain. Radiant, pure, untainted. He had a face marred with scowls and glares and an ugly scar. She was the fresh hours of dawn, he was the darkest of nights.

But, like all light, it would shine through the darkness.

Her light would touch everyone, including him. That was one thing he couldn’t run from.

He couldn’t help it, that day, when she brought him fish. Neatly sliced, freshly caught, and his eyes lit up at the sight. It was only a pike, but he couldn’t care less.

And she noticed. He could tell from her smile. From the rosy pink in her cheeks, to the joy in her eyes, the way she grinned at him. He hadn’t meant to reveal his love of sashimi to her, but as the days went on and she produced more and more to him, he decided it wasn’t so bad.

Getting to know Frey wasn’t so bad.

That year, he won the Fishing Frenzy like a storm. That was obvious from the start; no one came close to his skill level when it came to fishing. And yet, Frey had placed second.

He looked to her after the competition. She gave a dismal smile at the comforts of her friends, as if second place wasn’t good enough for her. She was determined. And learning fast. She’d made a new rod just for the competition. In the weeks prior, Dylas had seen her by the lake more often than not.

Soon enough, he’d have some real competition on his hands.

Despite her loss, Frey congratulated him. He muttered a reply. He wasn’t used to this. To being congratulated. Winning.

He knew he should say something, but the words struggled in his throat. He found that, often, he was at a loss for words. She’d manage to steal his breath. To make his heart stammer or leap about in his chest.

It was in the faintest of moments he realised this. When she’d laugh at something he’d said. He wished he could remember his words in her presence.

It was the faintest touch of her hand on his arm that stole his breath. And she could steal it and keep it and he wouldn’t mind.

It was when she was bloody and bruised after a battle and she still managed to smile at him that made his heart leap. His heart could escape his body and run to her and he would follow. He wanted to follow. When had that happened?

When she’d fallen in the lake again, he almost stole a laugh. It bubbled and bubbled right in his chest but he swallowed it down. He opted to help her instead. Not, as he told himself, because he wanted to get closer to her. Or wanted to feel her soft hand in his.

It wasn’t soft, he found out, but calloused instead. Her hand was smaller than his. Petite, with long, slender fingers, and he stared. He pulled her from the water, but kept her hand in his. It was rough and worn from the sword. Blackened beneath the nails from her forge.

And it was warm.

She laughed, and he snapped his attention to her face. A bad decision, as all he could see was the glistening water on her skin, her eyelashes, her cheeks. She licked her lips, gathering the water that settled there. Dylas’ breath caught. He followed a single drop with his eyes, followed its path down her throat, to the groove of her neck and beneath her shirt. He wanted to taste the water off her skin.

He shot back from her the way one recoils from the heat of a fire.

But he was the one on fire, not her. The fire was in his face, his ears, the tips of his fingers.

That fire only grew.

It bloomed in different ways. In his stomach, churning with a sick feeling, when Leon pressed too close to her. When he looped his arm around Frey’s shoulders and she didn’t pull away.

This heat, he knew only as jealousy, burned when Leon winked at him and whisked her away.

That fire had made its home in his cheeks. It brought with it honesty, and a desire to pull her closer than arms-length.

She was quick to notice this, and those questions of hers followed. He found himself answering her. Wanting to answer her. She would nod and listen and he knew she was committing his birthday, his favourite foods, to memory.

He should’ve known what would come next, but when she asked what his type was, that fire emerged. He was consumed by fire once again but she only drew closer.

She laughed when he told her to shut up.

He didn’t know what his type was.

A glimmer of mirth reached hereyes as she smiled.

“Just a minute ago,” she saidinnocently, though the amused light in her eyes told Dylas she’d been watchinghim silently on purpose.

“Then say something!”

The ire in his voice softenedFrey’s smile. “Sorry. You looked like you were busy cooking so I didn’t want todisturb you.”

And she loved watching him. Sheenjoyed seeing the intense concentration on his face, the deft movements of hishands as he sliced and diced with ease. It was stunning to watch, almostmesmerising in a way. He’d learnt so much from Porcoline that it left Freystunned.

Dylas’ expression fell. Herintentions had been innocent and yet he’d almost snapped at her for no reason.He took a breath to calm himself before replying. “Thanks, but next time don’tsneak up on me!”

It wasn’t good for his heart tohave her appear like that so suddenly. It was hard enough seeing her smile likethat on a normal day when he had time to prepare himself.

Dylas straightened his collar,absently fixing his clothes to settle his nerves. “What were you doing, anyway?”

Frey’s gentle smile returned. “Nothing.I was just wondering what you were making.” She glanced at the ingredients he’dprepared, trying to imagine what the finished product would be.

Dylas stared. “What, so you werejust watching?”

“Yeah.”

His heart skipped. “…Me?”

“Yeah.” Her tone, thoughtslightly amused, was incredulous.

Heat rushed up Dylas’ face. Aburning, scorching flush coloured his cheeks, searing his skin a violent red.The air in his lungs died, throat and mouth suddenly dry. Any coherent thoughtshe’d had fled at the realisation that she’d been watching him that whole time.

“You’re turning red,” Frey noted.

Dylas choked on his words. “W-Wellof course! It’s hot in a kitchen!” The blush on his cheeks burned hotter,darker than before. It was all her fault, damn it, but there’s no way he couldsay that.

“That’s true.”

Despite the fact that he had yetto actually begin cooking in earnest. The stove wasn’t even on.

“E-Exactly.” Dylas cursed himselffor stammering but was glad Frey took him at face value. It was a good thingshe was so oblivious sometimes.

“Practicing a new recipie?” Freyasked, giving the ingredients he’d gathered a curt nod. “That’s awfully diligentof you.”

Dylas turned back to his cooking,grabbing the chicken thighs and cutting them up into small, even pieces. “N-Notreally.” He tried desperately to focus on what he was doing, each stroke of theknife, but he was struggling with Frey’s eyes on him. He could still see her inthe corner of his vision yet it was like she was right in front of him. Hecould hardly see the cutting board, the knife, the chicken.

He needed to think of somethingelse other than her.

“It’s not like I’m trying to getbetter so I can be more help to Porcoline or anything,” Dylas rambled,finishing up with the chicken quickly so he could move on and do somethingelse.

Frey nodded slowly. “Oh.”

Dylas glanced back at her, unableto forget the fact that she was still there. Watching him. He swallowedthickly. “Uh, so how long are you going to stand there and watch?”

“Until I get bored.”

A simple, straightforward answerthat shot a spear of heat to Dylas’ face. “Q-Quit it! You’re making it hard forme to concentrate!” he barked, stealing his gaze away and glaring at the onioninstead. How could she stand there and say something like that with such aninnocent smile on her face, Dylas didn’t know. “Idiot,” he muttered beneath hisbreath.

“Why?” Frey asked, a curiouseyebrow raised.

Dylas knew instantly he’d dughimself into a hole. “Wh-What do you mean, why?” He grabbed the bottle of oil,unscrewing the lid so he didn’t have to look at her. Heat crawled down hisneck. He glanced back at her to find her staring, still watching, stillwaiting. Her eyes still on him. Dylas brought a hand up to his cheeks as if hecould cover the burning flush and furiously looked away. “Stop staring…” Hecouldn’t bring himself to bark at her now. Not with her looking at him likethat, gaze innocent and expectant.

Frey moved in the corner of Dylas’vision and he stiffened when she entered the kitchen and came beside him. She studiedthe ingredients, the frypans and bowls set out before him.

“What are you making?” Freyasked, running her gaze up and down the counter.

“Omelette rice.” Dylas nodded tothe eggs and busied himself drizzling oil into the frypan and setting it on thestove. Anything to get his mind off the fact that she was right beside him.Barely inches between them. His face burned as hotly as if he’d opened the ovendoor and looked right in.

Frey’s smile brightened. “Ooh!Can I help?” She bounced on her toes, eagerly looking up at him with a light, ajoy, in her eyes that Dylas couldn’t refuse. His heart fluttered at the sight.

Dylas forced his eyes away tostop himself from staring, captivated. The drumming of his heart in his chestwas painfully fast, painfully distracting. She was distracting. “S-Sure. Do youwant to make the omelettes?”

Better to put her to work thanhave her watch him the whole time. He wasn’t sure how long he could take hercurious gaze before he melted into a flustered pile of mush. Surely his heartwould give out long before that.

“On it!” Frey said eagerly,grabbing the empty bowl, the whisk, and settled in front of the eggs. Dylasbreathed a sigh of relief and focused on heating the oil as Frey cracked andwhisked the eggs. From time to time, Dylas glanced at her to find her workingaway, twirling her wrist expertly as she whisked the eggs with a bit of milk.He wasn’t completely stunned at her skill but was certainly impressed that hetook a moment to watch her.

He wondered if this was how shefelt when watching him. Light. Warm and strangely fuzzy. Captivated.

Dylas quickly turned back to hisown cooking as Frey joined him at the stove. They worked, shoulder-to-shoulder,in an amicable silence, and Dylas found himself relaxing, slowly becoming atease with her presence. Having her beside him was comforting. Enjoyable. Infact, if he dared to admit it, he actually likedcooking with her.

Soon enough, with the fried riceand omelette perfectly cooked, Dylas divided a portion of his fried rice on topof the omelette. Frey watched intently as he used a spatula to fold both sidesof the omelette towards the middle, covering the rice. It was easier now,having her watch him. He actually didn’t mind the feel of her eyes on him, andlet himself smile faintly.

With a practiced grace, Dylasflipped the pan and delivered the omelette rice expertly onto a placeface-down. Frey gasped and watched eagerly as Dylas finished the plating untilit looked perfect. He topped it all with a drizzle of ketchup on top.

Frey cooed in delight at theomelette rice. “Wow, it looks so good.” Her stomach grumbled in agreement andshe laughed bashfully, an embarrassed flush colouring her cheeks. “Sorry!”

“You want some of it?”

Frey gave a gasp of elation. “Really?Can I?” The joy in her eyes, her voice, her smile, was blinding andoverwhelming. It stole Dylas’ breath away.

Dylas nodded stiffly, strugglingto hold her gaze. “Sure. Here.” He offered her the plate.

“But what about you? I can’t justeat it all.” Frey glanced down at the perfect omelette rice in her handsdismally.

“I can always make some more…”

“We’ll share it then,” Frey said,deciding by herself and gathering another place. Before Dylas could protestFrey divided the omelette rice into two and shifted one half to the free place.“I know it’s not perfect now, but it’s not fair if I’m the only one who gets toenjoy it.” With a smile, Frey took the two plates to a table and set themopposite each other. Dylas watched, speechless, before shaking his head andfollowing her.

Frey was already helping herselfwhen Dylas sat down, a content smile on her face. She relished the taste with ahum of delectation. At her obvious delight, Dylas tried some for himself.

“Not bad,” he said, giving it anappraising nod.

“It’s so good,” Frey crooned. “Iwouldn’t mind eating like this all the time!”

Dylas stared at her, frozen withhis fork suspended halfway to his mouth at the thought of cooking for Freyevery day. Being able to see her delight at his cooking every single day. Hismind conjured up the image of him in her kitchen, her waiting expectantly,eagerly, for his food. Sharing meals with her day in, day out. He flusheddarkly as he realised where his thoughts had gone.

“We should do this againsometime,” Frey offered. She smiled at him and his daydreaming went unnoticed.

“Next time, show up the normalway, okay?” Dylas said, brushing those thoughts quickly away. “No moresneaking.”

Frey’s smile was bright, the joyin her voice reaching her eyes and making it impossible for Dylas to meet hereyes. “Okay!”

Dylas had to tear his eyes awayas a surge of heat dusted his cheeks. The nervous fluttering of his heart wasback and it was all because of that beautiful, innocent smile. A smile ofabsolute delight. A smile warm enough to melt even the coldest heart.

    Really, the whole sacrifice with himself for Venti’s sake was much more than just to assist her. Life was boring, as he had figured out so easily. And it was so quick, the realization that nothing would change the course of the universe, only made him accept death with open arms. Sacrifices were for the good of all, but for him, it was a one way ticket to freedom; a freedom where he no longer had to harbor the need to be cared for. He would leave this god forsaken planet, away from the lies that left Ventuswill’s mouth, and the ache that devoured his very state of mind.

    His sacrifice was like going to heaven.

**

    Dylas didn’t believe in things such as fate, as it only was used to paint dreams that would never become a reality. Life was not supposed to be full of happiness, as he thought. There was no need for anything that wasn’t the necessary skills for survival. Listening to those that spewed about life as finding a “special one,” was nothing more than a load of bull. Affection was something that was alien to him, and he had heard that such matters did not only cause happiness, but also caused hurt. And he certainly did not want to know what it felt like.

    He didn’t want to feel any more pain than he already had to bear.

**

    This pain was the worst he had ever felt in his life. It felt like something was ripping himself apart so carelessly, like the trash that he was, and he felt like a fool for feeling more than just physical hurt.

    Was he awake? Was he even alive? All he managed to feel before drifting off was a cold, flat surface behind him, and something warm pressed to his cheek. Even though he tried so desperately to flutter his eyes open, he was still unable to bear this ache.

    He wasn’t sure what he had heard seconds before closing his eyes, but it sounded soothing.

**

    Her name was Frey.

    And he hated her.

    He loathed everything about her. How happy she always was, the way she smiled at everyone, how polite and helpful she was towards everyone…it ticked him off greatly. She was the definition of why he dared to go against fate. She made it seem like the world was a happy place to be in, and that she actually showed a hint – a speck – of precaution for his meaningless existence.

    Dylas never asked to be saved. He never wanted to walk such grounds again, in a world where Ventuswill was still alive, yet harmed, all for his sake. All for the sake of his deep, hidden desire to be here, alive and well. Undeserving, he felt. Never did he wish to have his life saved, and by her of all people. He wanted to feel that freedom.

    Yet, Dylas knew fully well that he lied to himself.

    Of course he didn’t want to disappear, and that he wanted to be cared for, but that all seemed too fictional. He would feel hurt from desiring such things that was only meant for people that were lucky, and he was not one of those people.

    But she was.

    Wanting to keep to himself, like usual, he insulted her and pushed her away, in hopes of never wishing for such things he was not worthy of.

**

    No matter how many times he insulted her, or shoved her away, Frey just didn’t get the hint that he was very much bothered by her kindness. Why couldn’t she just fuck off? Why was she so damn nice all the time? Why did she have such a perfect smile? Why was she…so…beautiful…?

    Goals were things he had never taken into consideration, and the day she had gifted him his favorite dish of milk porridge, he vowed to become a better cook and to learn how to cook her favorite things.

    The smile that graced her lips when he offered his hard work – cake, was well worth the many failed attempts.

**

    “Everyone cares about you.”

    Her words rang along his thoughts, keeping him from his slumber. Wide, gold eyes glued themselves to the ceiling, his arms tucked under his head. Honestly, Dylas was stupefied. Frey had such nerve to spew out these lies, and just as he was beginning to actually enjoy her presence.

    Frey was stupid. Frey was an idiot…

    Trying to convince himself what he already knew was fiction was becoming more of a chore than a skill.

    “I care about you, too!”

    “Stupid…stupid…” he repeated, like a broken recording, closing his eyes. Alas, all that he saw was her serene face, wide smile as gorgeous as the morning sun, engulfing his mind.

    The desire to be cared for, to be adored, to be loved was growing stronger with each passing day. And it was all her fault. He did not deserve such things. In fact, he did not deserve to be in her presence. She was too precious, too frail, for his callow, insensitive hands.

    A fool for wanting such things only made him wish he had his freedom.

    “Stupid girl…” he hissed louder, “Pathetic…stupid…idiotic… Ugh…get out of my thoughts…!”

    Dylas was up all night, and this had begun a cycle that wouldn’t be ending soon.

**

    He had come to enjoy their get-togethers. It was not rare for him to leave with a stupid smile plastered on his face once they had departed for the day. He’d pick her up from the castle, usually around 1000 hours, and from there, they would go on exploring, or his favorite, going out to fish at the nearby lake.

    Frey was an okay fisher, he noted, but she wasn’t the best with patience. But it was nice to merely sit next to her, a fishing pole in between, the two, as they gazed out into the clear waters filled with fish they could catch. And they talked. Usually, they would start up by talking about the town and how thanks to Frey’s efforts, it was becoming lively once more. Then, they would end up talking their interests, which turned into an eruption of giggles on her part, and embarrassment on his part.

    A brush of their hands was also common. Whether it’d be by accident or purposely, it did not fail to have his cheeks burn, flustered. Her hands were so small and soft compared to his large ones, and they felt so warm, that he could not help the urge to grab it.

    Only for the quickest second, because he knew that he should not be doing this to her, and himself.

**

    He liked her. Never in his life, did he think he was ever going to harbor such strong feelings of desire for someone, the very thing he had despised all of his life. Wanting to care for and love someone was weakening him; it consumed him whole. And it was very confusing.

    Someone like Frey going as far down for him was still so surreal. She could have anyone she wanted to, honestly, and the fact that he had perhaps had a chance to take that opportunity made Dylas realize that his repressed feelings were selfish.

    He remembered her saying once that it was okay to be selfish.

    Pressed against the wall near the entrance of the castle, he covered his mouth, face burning as his eyes caught her figure skipping from the direction of Granny Blossom’s store, towards him. This was it. He had requested her to meet him at that spot, just one day after she had said that she had loved him. Dylas would give her his response to that.

    Fate was cruel for placing him in this time, a time where someone like her existed, entered – saved – his life, and made the experience worthwhile. So much, that he actually followed his hidden desires.

    And as she stood in front of him, he lowered his hand, swallowing, and very nervous. He had never done such a thing before.