#ro ora

Darin

He refuses to acknowledge it, the guilt at his lingering eyes, the excuses for working late together when there's no need for it. The relief and comfort at having them by his side, at his back. Safe. He knows better, knows what hardship his affections could bring if made public, if people knew why he was so comfortable at having someone follow his every move. And still he relishes the moments he can just focus on one person, a brush of hands make his heart flutter and a scolding over his late hours make him hide a grin and keep teasing just to have more of the attention, to get back the giddy, happy, feeling that Darin thought he lost on the battlements years ago.

Kallas

She has a crush as subtle as the screech of a peacock. Kallas is nice most of the time but lately it’s soft smiles, delighted laughs and elaborate twirls of skirts when there are no others around. She starts requesting more exotic things to be delivered along with her meals, a fruit from her home that grows only a few a year, warm drinks more than she can drink during the coldest nights. It changes how something small, glittery, beautiful catches her eyes as she peruses the market and gets bought never to be seen on her person. It changes how she smiles at nothing, at dark corners and can be seen staring into nothingness in the evenings, dancing with no one. But she appears happier, more carefree than before so her ladies-in-waiting turn a blind eye to it all with a smile.  

Hede 

There are red circles climbing from the edges of Hede’s ears to their cheeks as they rush after a friend. After a friend whose smile has lately sent Hede’s heart skipping. And Hede can’t leave them alone, now. Needling, poking and prodding to get a reaction. Steal a dessert treat off of their plate and run away laughing while being chased. Peak, quality time spend together. And after, laying on grass, on the floor, on a rooftop when Hede’s fingers twitch and then touch, shoulders warm against the other’s and cheeks red has become the norm rather than the exception. 

Ora

They have no time for crushes, Ora says as the others ask about the extra serving of small cakes they make sure to pack up.

 I’m perfectly content with my work and duties, Ora snarls as they take a longer route to walk from the kitchens to where the living quarters are. 

I don’t need help, they mutter as someone climbs up the ladder in the pantry for them, when everyone else is asleep. There’s tea and cakes, a new recipe that they want to make sure is serviceable and they need to test it on someone. 

I’m going to the market as soon as the dawn brakes, Ora says to empty corners, and empty basket hanging from their arm. Would not mind an extra pair of hands. Doesn’t mind it at all when at the market, someone grabs the basket and puts their arm in it’s stead.

Darin

“Don’t get mad at me when I step on your feet,” he says but takes your hand. It’s more of a shuffling of feet and holding each other close than the swirling done in the grand ballroom. Darin does indeed step on your toes, though he apologizes every time. You blame the lack of light as the moon paints everything in silvery light and his eyesight isn’t the best in the evenings under the best of circumstances. After minutes of slow turning around in each other's arms you glance at him. Darin’s eyes are closed and he’s smiling softly.

Kallas

Later, when you tease her under the covers for the night, she will deny how she had fallen into your arms with a giggle some would have deemed too girlish for her station if someone else had been in the room. You know how Kallas commands the dance floor during the official celebrations. Here and now, she twirls softly with you, moonlight making the whole moment feel ethereal. Like an unbelievable story from your childhood, dancing with a queen under the moonlight in a castle. You wonder how you look like to her, in your dark, dreary clothing, a white mask stark against it all, hanging from a belt. Does she look at you with the same adoration you have for her? Then again it’s dark, and the moonlight illuminates everything for you in a different light. It’s not daylight but it hasn’t mattered to you for years. The colours are muted, silvery but you see enough, see it clearly to lead and follow and twirl with Kallas and neither of you trip.

Hede

Hede is awkward but takes your hand and tries to smile, self deprecating. 

“I’m not used to this,” Hede admits and for once does seem like an awkward teen he/she once was. 

“Indulge me?” You tease as your fingers lace and you tug him/her closer. Hede does, and while your usual moments alone are rarely, if ever, slow or thoughtful something is different this time. Maybe it is how the world seems to slow down, that there are only the two of you and neither of you are needed at this moment. Maybe because you are adults now, and can take the moment to enjoy just being together, rather than be actively doing something with the other. 

“We should do this again. It’s nice,” Hede confesses, lips against your ear, voice soft and sleepy.  A success.

Ora

“Are you sure? It’s late…” Ora looks uncertain, then glances behind them to the door. Your hand drops with your smile. 

“It’s okay. Some other time?” You swallow the disappointment and try to smile again. Ora works hard, it is late and it’s not them to entertain you when you are too wired up to do anything else, to go sleep with them in the cozy room Ora has claimed. A hint of your disappointment must show, your mask hanging uselessly at your side, because Ora takes a hurried step towards you.

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just..” they fidget with their hem until you take hold of their hand. Ora sighs and looks down, and not at you. A travesty. “It’s just that I don’t know how to dance?” 

You can’t help but let out a little laugh. “Is that all?”  

Affronted huff and then Ora is looking at you, the way you are used to. No nonsense and so sure of themselves. 

“Not all of us had such a… rounded education you had!” 

“Then let me teach you,” you grin, tug them gently closer, hands together and your free hand around their soft waist. “It’s not difficult. Just follow and I’ll make sure everything will go just fine.” You assure Ora, who sighs but does follow where you lead across the dark room.

“If I trip and break something I’m blaming you,” they mutter but there is a tugging smile on their full lips and their warm body stepping along willingly with you.

“If something happens to you, I’m blaming myself.” You confess in the dark.

Thank you for the prompt!

Darin

Amused, warm feelings. If it’s winter or just cold and the item of clothing is a cloak, or something else to keep you warm inside the stone walls. 

“You trying to steal more from me?” Darin asks and he doesn’t mind whatever your eye has caught inside his, annoyingly, full wardrobe. 

“What have I ever stolen?” 

Darin smirks and draws you in his arms. Presses your ear against his heart. Before he can say anything like the cheesy one liner that must be on the tip of his tongue, you punch him in the side. 

In summary: 

Doesn’t mind it. The opposite infact

especially sleepwear or the like (comparable to stealing t-shirts or smth to sleep in) makes your relationship seem more real, more ‘normal’ even if it’s anything but

Especially if you are smaller and drowning in his shirts. That's the best look. (you know why)

Kallas

Are you wearing the clothes properly? Kallas is very particular about her outfits and it would be such a waste for you to rip something while climbing, jumping or whatever it is you do when you jump out of the window. Clothes should also fit the purpose and body type of the wearer. So, will ask if you are lacking proper clothes and offer to go shopping with (or without you).

“We could have matching ones! Compliment each other in every way.” Her eyes get wide and she smiles when taking your hand. Almost vibrating with excitement. 

“I’d let everyone else know how beautiful you are. It’s such a shame you have to hide every time you wear that drab outfit.” She eyes your ‘working’ outfit with distaste. 

“Just..” you stop and think how to frase it, so it will not be so stupid, “something nice to wear when it’s just the two of us?” Kallas smiles, brighter than the sun and kisses your cheek softly. 

“Anything you want, love.”

In summary: 

Doesn’t mind it if you’re respectful of the clothes and their intended wear

Will absolutely get you matching stuff if that’s something you’d want (might still get you something)

Hede

You have shared most of your stuff through your childhood. When you get together romantically and share a room, all of your clothing is in piles and mixed with each other. Whose shirt was it in the beginning? Doesn’t matter, it’s shared property now. Hede (regardless of gender) is tall, thin with long limbs so if you have much difference in body type it will be either hilarious or sweet. Croptops and shirts past knees, anyone? 

The only things that are still your own are your weapons, a box full of mementos etc, your armor/’uniform’. And your masks. 

Ora

In summary: 

*insert bugs bunny "ours" meme*

Takes a while to notice. They are so used to seeing themselves and everyone else in the most basic outfits of undyed linen and wool or the livery of the King. If you are sneaky and wash the things you could probably carry on wearing their clothes indefinitely. For someone who's really good at lists and organizing things for everyone else they are rather blind to those they trust. If you make a point of wearing it openly, maybe give a hint or two, Ora will blush and stammer something.

“Why do you need the feel to take mine? I’m sure your own clothes are much better anyway,” Ora looks at you, face stern but a blush covering their cheeks at your continued grinning. You loop your arms around their shoulders, bringing your noses together. 

“It smells like you. It feels like you’re there hugging me even when you run around the place like it will fall for ruin if you don’t handle everything yourself.” You say and the blush stays but now Ora sneaks their arm around your waist, hugging you closer. 

“I hope you take the clean ones at least.” 

In summary:

Why are you stealing my clothes? That’s weird, there’s nothing unique about them.

Are you saying i’m smelly? No, ok. Good?

Darin

Darin laughs, an arm snakes around your waist and pulls you into his lap. Regardless of your height you fit into the plush chair he uses to do his reading in. He enjoys the attention with a pleased grin, eyes closed as you pepper his face with soft kisses. His stubble scratches and the gold rimmed reading glasses get in the way but you don’t mind too much, and neither does he as the pile of bound papers fall to the floor, his other hand taking a loose hold of the back of your neck. He uses it as a guiding hand and kisses you deeply.

“Is this something I should start scheduling in? So this kind of disaster can’t happen again,” Darin murmurs against your mouth.

“I like when I can surprise you,” you mumble back, hands cording through his locs. “Just as long as we meet the quota.”

He laughs and kisses your cheek, “I shall thrive to give you that at least, then.”

Kallas

“You scared me,” Kallas pouts as you pepper her soft cheeks with kisses. “I thought something was wrong.”

“Something was wrong,” you say between pecks. “I was neglecting you.”

Kallas’ face softens and she takes hold of your hands, keeping them locked in cupping her face.

“We’re both busy, I understand,” her brown eyes look into yours, half lidded, no more pouting. “As long as you come back to me when you can, I don’t mind how many kisses I get.” You feel your cheeks warm up. You are rarely serious when alone, the time spent together light hearted conversations and sweet kisses. Maybe she sees the awkwardness, maybe it doesn’t even matter as Kallas turns her head and places a kiss on your palm.

“How many more until we meet the quota?” She asks, twinkle in her eyes.

“36.”

Hede

“Travesty. It’s a surprise how I survived the day!” Hede cries out and after a small wrestling that’s more of arranging limbs than actual fight, you end up side by side on the couch near the fireplace. Hede has a long leg thrown over your hip and rests $hisher head on your arm. For once the kisses are slow and sweet, usually you are exchanging hurried kisses between running around. Hede tends to keep to the night time hours and you are stuck watching from the shadows during the day.

“Missed you,” $heshe whispers and you nod, your nose brushing against $hishers.

“Me too,” you confess and get a kiss for a reward.

“I think we have to fill the quota for the next few days as well,” Hede smiles and it would be a smirk if you didn't know them as well as you do. So you kiss again, hoping to take your rare time together away from the melancholy and back to the playful.

Ora

They huff and puff and their cheeks darken as you shower them with kisses and affection.

“I’ve been running around trying to organize the upcoming ball. It’s the first in centuries there’s been a royal ball and..” Ora’s tirade stops as you turn your kisses to their lips. They sigh, as if giving up is a huge inconvenience even when their hands tuck inside your outer shirt, warming their hands underneath it.

“Well, if you are busy... We just have to go under the quota for today. And maybe tomorrow as well. And the day after…” This time it’s you who is interrupted as Ora yanks you to them, the kiss deeper than the light hearted ones from before.

Darin ‘While your lips are still red - Nightwish’

“Are you listening to me? You cannot walk through the town! If you’d stop being so stubborn and..” you pause for a moment thinking of an appropriate but not inappropriate way to describe Darin, who has the audacity to sit and stare at you, a soft smirk on his face.

“Kingly?” The smirk widens into a full-blown smile, white teeth perfect while the man behind them is certainly not. At least not at this moment. This moment the man, the king, is an idiot.

“Yes, that too! You need to listen to me! I won’t allow you to walk through the city, it’s not safe.” If you were still a kid, you’d stomp your foot. But as it is, you settle for crossing your arms, trying to look intimidating. It does not work because Darin’s smile does not disappear. If anything, he takes a more comfortable position and raises one dark eyebrow at you.

“Is it not your job to keep me safe? Or are you saying that you’re not up to the task?”

“No! I’m saying the risk is not worth it! You waltzing around in full daylight in questionable streets is not worth it! Why are you being this difficult?” Why is he not taking this seriously? Instead of answering directly, Darin stands up and takes the one step to cross the distance between you, hands taking hold of your elbows, looking through the mask and the shadows concealing your eyes.

“Because it’s hot when you talk back at me,” a smile at your groan, “It will be fine. I trust you; I know you can keep me safe from the shadows.” He leans down, rests his forehead against yours. “I’d really like to stop talking about business now. Is it okay?”

You nod, and as your hands lift your mask away, he obediently closes his eyes. The magic holding the white mask in place disappears as your fingertips touch and you lift the mask up, letting it rest against your neck. It clicks into its place, though you barely hear it as Darin kisses you the same way he does everything else. With confidence and thought, warm arms wrapping around you, holding you close. Like you matter, like you are the most precious thing to him.

You close your eyes, both of you blind to the world and willing to let the illusion of it all sweep you in it.

Kallas ‘Halo-Beyonce’

It’s a sunny morning, a sunny day if you’re being more honest, as you’re sitting by the window and waiting for your brunch date. The table has already been set, though you can spot how none of it is steaming hot anymore. You should offer apologies when Kallas arrives. You may lack the finest of manners compared to the high and mighty but being several hours late is rude. Even when you had really tried to be early. But sometimes running around at night along rooftops hunting down conspirators makes one late for morning dates. And beg for forgiveness, though if you must wait any longer you might not be the only one who should apologize for tardiness. When Kallas sweeps into the room, you’re just settled on the windowsill, ready to close your eyes and take a nap while you wait. You startle, only a little and not enough for you to fall off your seat, that would be unbecoming. The way Kallas smiles at you though, you might have as well have. She looks more laid back than usual, a dark, surprisingly subdued shirt wrapped around her, exposing a soft tummy with a long sweeping skirt of yellow and orange flowers. She pulls you from your seat to kiss your cheek gently.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Didn’t mean to make you wait,” you let her lead you by the hand to the table, feeling the same warmth that has recently filled your chest when she smiles at you. The secret small one, the one only few are allowed to see. The one that makes your toes curl and a stupid smile of your own want to appear.

“It’s okay. I was told it was important,” she says, and you sit where she leads you, though stop at making her actually serve you. Instead, she pulls the other stool closer and you sit, hands brushing every now and then as you share the meal. If she sneaks a few tender kisses, for your fingers, for your cheek, a long one against your mouth, who are you to complain? The fruits are messy, leaves your fingers sticky and you watch with surprise as Kallas wipes her fingers against her shirt. Her smile turns wicked, and she makes a show of spreading her arms and showing of her shirt.

“Do you like it? I remember what you told me, dress for the occasion and how comfort is an occasion too.” You do remember, start to say so when it clicks. Why does the shirt look familiar and out of place on her?

“Are you wearing my shirt?” She laughs at your expression.

“It’s comfortable and smells like you. Do you mind?” You shake your head. You don’t say it but there are a few things you wouldn’t give or do for her. It doesn’t seem to matter, as you get a soft kiss, an unspoken ‘me too’.

The sun rises and falls, and you have lost a shirt for good.

Ora ‘Chasing cars - Snow Patrol’’

The spring rains come and go as quick as a thunderstrike, both leaving you soaking wet and hunkering down in small crevices wherever you can find them. This time it’s behind the kitchen, an empty room that at some point had been a storage closet but now seemed to be left for the rats. A testament how even after all the months this place has had a king, some things don’t grow to what they were before. The always blazing kitchen fireplaces warm these corridors. Shivering you take off your outer layers, hanging them on the empty, rickety shelf to dry them as much as possible. Running along rooftops, during thunder is dangerous for when you rely on the shadows to keep you on the roofs and not falling to your death. Thus, you slipped down from the roof to an empty, warm room resigned to wait out the worst of it. Your luck continues to run out as when you’re battling with your waterlogged boot the door opens and Ora walks in, bucket and broom in hand. They look at you, you look at them and the water that splashes out of your upturned boot. Your mask hanging in your belt. Ora looks at you, exposed as you are, sighs and tosses the bucket at you and lays the broom against the wall.

“You’re soaked. I’ll grab you a towel,” they leave you standing with a bucket in hand, dripping wet and confused. Maybe you could slip away until Ora comes back and don’t have to embarrass yourself further. The squelching sound your boot makes when you pull it back on your foot makes you grimace and think again on your escape.

Five minutes and Ora returns, a pile of towels and a steaming cup of something earthy and spicy in the other hand. A pointed look and you sit on the upturned bucket, cup warming your fingers, smothered in a towel.

“Why are you wet anyway? Shouldn’t you be able to just poof your way out of little rains?” Despite the harshness of Ora’s tone, their fingers are gentle on your head, as they dry you off. You take a sip, feeling like a kitten under the mercy of their mother.

“Doesn’t work like that. Must see and have a place to escape. Besides it’s rain, I would have been fine on my own,” you mumble, the drink warming your insides the more you drink, drowsiness coming on as Ora deems you as dry as can be done by them. You watch, eyes half lidded, under a newer dry towel as Ora walks around the small, dark room gathering your soaked clothes and boots.

“Do try to escape in the future then. Would hate to see you in worse condition than this. Come along then,” Ora stands at the door, waiting for you. Their brown eyes are kind, flickering from the torch light spilling through the doorway even with the ever-present wrinkle between them.

“What?”

Ora sighs and moves your clothes to one hand, extending the other for you. “It’s even better in the kitchen, warm. You will try by the time you are done being fawned over by the maids,” they sigh, again. You hesitate, glancing at the mask on your belt. It grins at you, reminding you of your vows.

“No one will care, it’s night-time and only a few of us are awake,” Ora says softly, their hand still outstretched for you. “You don’t have to be in the shadows.”

You take their hand, it’s not soft, not with the amount of work and worrying Ora does on daily basis but it fits in yours. Two rough hands together. They smile at you, and you can feel your mouth turn up in kind. Ora tugs you along the hallway, stones cool under your soaked socks.

But they don’t lie, the kitchen is warm, and you get the prime spot near the oven, next to a pot of the spicy tea. A cup in your hand, another clutching Ora’s as they go on to tell you and everyone else about the day and the schedule for tomorrow. Your joined hands get more looks than your face. Somehow that is okay.

Hede ‘One week - Barenaked ladies’

“You know you love me.” Hede grins at you, spinning blades in hand as you square off in the yard. You scoff and point your own blade at them.

“I despise every fibre of your being. You hold less place in my mind than the fly I saw flying in and out of your slack jawed mouth,” you spit back and the gasp Hede makes would almost make you regret the words. If immediately after your blades weren’t meeting in a fast paced, frenzied dance as your opponent releases a manic half yell, half shout. Hede has the reach to make use of the short blades, the twins glinting in the afternoon sun. Luckily, you are the smarter of the two. Twisting, hitting, blades crashing against each other, you manipulate your way towards the edge of the dusty field, the shadows of the trees, reaching for you, reassuring in their promise to help. You take their offer when the shadow of Hede’s foot touches that of the old tree. You duck the incoming swipe, asking for help, promising it will be fun to see the pale idiot who climbs the trees with no concern trip over their own feet. The tree, and in response its shadows agree, taking hold of Hede. Or the shadow of their ankle and yanking them down.

It is hilarious as like a white tree, Hede falls, their leg suddenly yanked out from underneath them. You jump forwards as they flop on their stomach, muttering curses but out of it enough for you to kick their blades away, to press your own against their shoulder, threateningly close to neck and the veins there.

“Surrender or I’ll squash you like the bug you are,” you stand above the fallen form, breathing heavily but trying to sustain the air of contempt and of superiority you had carried though the whole fight. Hede sighs and slowly, turns on their back, silvery pale hair spilling from the braid.

“Fine. You win. Remind me to never let you become the bad guy of our story,” they squint up at you, sun at your back as it is. You could make them beck a little more, rub nose further in the dirt but decide against it. Enough fun and games.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” you smirk, sheathing your weapons and flopping down next to Hede.

“Oomph!” Or on top of Hede. What’s the difference? To their credit, Hede wheezes a laugh and the positions you to lay your head against their stomach, both of you catching your breath, feeling the soreness of the practice match settle in your muscles.

“You do love me, though?” Hede asks after your breathing is down and the winds cooled down your sweat. You turn to look at grey eyes, the doubt in them.

“Doubt is the straightest way to hate,” you say, solemn as you repeat the lesson Matron has gifted to you many times over the years. The grimace Hede, make it seem like they did not appreciate it. You turn over, laying on your stomach, ear pressed against Hede’s chest, listening to the fast-pumping heart. Less like a tree and more like a bird. “Yes, yes I do, you idiot.”

“Oh. Good. ‘cause I do too.” Hede settles back down, grin white and dazzling in the light of the setting sun. You smile too, even with your face pressed against sweaty and dusty shirt, bony arms hugging you tightly.

“I know.”

-----

“What? I just got here,” you complain, opening one eye and glancing at them when no offending light tries to blind you.  The only light in the room is the light graying around the wooden blinds, hinting of a dawn. An hour you hoped to spend sleeping after days, and nights, of constant travel and being on high alert. The blinds are open when you are sure they were closed when you slipped inside the room earlier. 

“You should see the sunrise,” Ora says, matter of factly, but hand takes yours and rubs a gentle finger over your knuckles. 

“I have seen the sunrise. A lot of them…” 

“Not like this one you haven’t,” Ora tugs at your hand, still insistent. You deserve your sleep. You are tired and achy but they so rarely ask anything for themselves. Rarely make it clear what you could do to help them, given them what they want. So you sigh and squeeze their hand before rolling out of the bed and standing up. 

“Fine. Let’s go.” Your back cracks impressively enough to make Ora wince but after that they tug themselves next to you and curl an arm around you. 

“Thank you. You won’t regret it.” 

You do regret it as the sunrise viewing turns into a hike atop the hill shadowing the bay you’d been staying in. Usually it wouldn’t be a problem but the early morning and the days with little to no sleep take their toll and you’re leaning pitifully against Ora’s shoulder, yawning the whole walk up. Ora takes it like everything else, a bit of crumbling but never wavering. 

You clear the trees and most of the underbrush just in time for the horizont to get the faintest hues of pinks above the dark sea. You plop down to sit and Ora takes your right, sneaking an arm around you as you do the same. They are soft and warm against you as you sit silently, catching your breaths and looking far into the distance. 

What started as a slow spread of the sun, lighting up the waves to look like liquid metal turns the whole horizon into red and orange flames. Ora squeezes you closer and you lean closer but can’t get your eyes away from the scene that looks more like a painting from a masters’ imagination than reality. 

Sunrises have always been a warning sight for you. When the dawn starts to break, your opinions, your safety lessens as shadows disappear. Rarely have you had chance to admire it like this, even rarer that it is not city streets and rooftops that dominate your view. 

“Here,” Ora says and gives you a fruit, orange like the sky, laying on a white napkin. “I peeled it already. It’s not much of a breakfast but…”

“It’s perfect,” you mumble as you bite into the tart and juicy flesh and look from Ora to the sea. 

“Yeah.” Ora agrees and you’re not sure what they mean. It doesn’t matter.