pinkafropuffs:

(Things That Are No Longer Secrets)

After what seemed like a long nap, he heard something strange from the Throne of Heroes- or so he assumed, as it was dark and he didn’t recall being anywhere else. 

When he finally came to, it was incredibly dark- and somewhat cramped. From where he stood on the floor, it seemed like a box-compartment room, smaller than one had been at Chaldea. There on the bed sat a young woman with her shoulders slightly hunched, and her hands knit together on her lap.

It was cold. Too cold, he thought, especially when he realized what he was looking at.

She looked older than he’d last seen her; even in the low lighting of the tinderbox room he could see darkness on already-dark skin, in both bruises and the bags under her eyes. Her hair was longer- could he say it was longer? Her puff seemed bigger than he’d remembered, and though she still had the youthful look of a woman in her early twenties, he might’ve believed her more readily about being older.

The shadow of death passed over her expression- though her own features didn’t betray it. Instead, she mustered a weak smile, the brown of her eyes somehow still twinkling in the dark- largely, he knew, due to her own obstinance. When she finally spoke, it was only his name, its cadence smooth and unbroken. “Robin Hood.”

It sounded like a sigh of relief. Or maybe it was one of defeat. Either way, he didn’t say anything at first, careful not to seem too transparent in his own feelings.

“…what happened.” It was supposed to be a question, not a statement, but it would do. It would do for now, to hold back the anger he felt at the world for pouring down on her without mercy. Again.

A puff of air escaped her nose. “I didn’t bring you here to tell you, Robin,” she leaned forward, eyes not meeting his own, before she rocked back and forth and turned her head to one side, as though stretching her neck. 

“Oh? Then why did you?” If he was glowering, it was not his fault. After all, he was just a man. 

“I just wanted to see your face again.” This time, her eyes flickered up to his, the smoldering of them almost too much for him to bear. “Was that wrong?”

The shifting of his cloak was the only sound in the room for a long while; one thumb brushing past his upper lip, he looked away from her for just long enough to think about what to say. “…nah.” He sighed through his nose, letting his hood slip down as he shifted from one foot to the other. “Scoot over.”

She did. Once they were sitting next to each other, he sighed, leaning back on his palms as he closed his uncovered eye, suddenly feeling as exhausted as she looked. With her right hand brushing against his, she hooked their pinkies between them- before he sighed, and moved his over to knit their fingers together, his hand on top of hers. 

“I need a smoke,” he finally said aloud, and as she laughed and leaned against him, he finally felt warm.

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