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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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The Lovers’ Plum

Category: Romantic Drama

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Ochako Uraraka, Katsuki Bakugo

Additional Tags: Supernatural AU; Feudal Japan AU

Hello, everyone! It’s my pleasure to present the story I wrote for the @bokunoyokaibang, “The Lovers’ Plum”! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please go give some love to my talented partner, @malware-incorporated, who illustrated the story for me!

The Coming of the Plum Tree Spirit

The early afternoon breeze rustled the thin branches of the solitary plum tree, filling the air with a dull clattering as the sticks clacked against one another. The tiny limbs were laden with small pink buds; as the wind washed over them, their silken petals were plucked hence, wafting over the light winds before spiraling down to the emerald grass below. The lone plant stood sentinel atop a gently sloped hill overlooking the clustering huts of a humble Japanese fishing settlement three days’ ride from Edo. Its voluminous bulk had overseen the gushing river since before man had ventured to its shores, and if luck be true, would behold its gentle majesty for many moons to come. Many cycles it had lived, turning pink with blossom and green with fruit and naked with winter’s cold. In an odd twist of fate, it had also born witness to a particular phenomenon of humans- burgeoning love.

Springtime often brought them forth to plead beneath the plum tree. Young girls, and even boys from time to time, hiked the well-worn path from the outskirts of the village to the plum tree’s throne, where they would kneel and clasp their hands in prayer. With tears blossoming in the corners of their entreating eyes, they would implore the ancient being for good fortune in their romantic endeavors. No one was quite sure how the sacred ritual began; humans were notorious for the spontaneous creation of folktales and legends, however. Perhaps one spirited little mind dreamt of a doomed romance beneath the fruit-laden branches, and myth watered its roots, turning the quaint plum tree into a being mystical and divine. Of course, a plum tree is but a plum tree; that is, until it isn’t.

The plum tree spirit, who knew not of the conventions of calendars and days in the early stages of her life, could not say when she had blinked into existence. One fine morning where the birds hopped about the tree’s branches to feast on its ripe purple-red fruits, she had simply blinked awake. Contained within the thick trunk of the tree, she gazed upon the world with fresh new eyes and beheld the majesty of the earth. She ventured out, pale and naked, to touch to grass blades to find them remarkably soft, and to chase the butterflies flitting over the wildflowers. She gasped in delight as the wispy white seeds scattered at her steps, taking to the wind to float away into the wild blue yonder and hopefully take root. The sun was warm on her skin, and the breeze gentle through her chestnut hair. The sky above blazed in resplendent blue, stained by the puffy masses of white clouds.

The plum tree spirit, though she knew not, was a minor god brought forth by the supplicant prayers of hopeful youths.

The newborn spirit spent the first few days of her life playing amongst the wild grasses and flowers, growing bolder day by day. She greeted the mother doe and her fumbling fawn, running ethereal fingers over the spotted fur. She hopped with a tawny spotted rabbit through the golden forest grass and delighted at the yellow tufts that tickled her cheeks and nose. She curled beneath the sprawling blanket of the plum tree’s fruit-laden branches, nibbling at the succulent fruit and admiring the light playing through the emerald leaves. She even crept through the bushes along the small trail to catch glimpses of the thatch-and-wood houses and their residents, who hauled baskets laden with trout and shellfish from the river. Upon her first glimpse of them, the new god realized her corporeal form resembled the female humans’; however, they did not roam about uncovered like she. She studied the strange garments they cloaked themselves with and found that if she simply willed it into being, the cloth materialized and draped over her body. A kimono, they called it. The plum tree spirit imbued it with a lovely pink hue, the exact shade of her tree’s vivid petals.

The humans were like her in body, but the tree spirit knew that she was not human. As she lounged beneath the tree watching the sun sink below the horizon each day, she could not help but wonder what kind of being that she was, and why she was there. She had attempted to speak to the trees along the path, the black pines and red pines and white pines, but they were hollow and voiceless. It seemed that she was alone in this vast full world, a unique and singular existence.

The first days of her life were thus, though filled with the wonder of novelty, extraordinarily lonely.

The Coming of Her Purpose

The plum tree spirit awoke to the sound of hushed giggles. She had discovered that unless she desired it, humans could not see her; up until that point, she had rendered herself invisible, for she knew not how they would react to her sudden presence. The newborn deity peered through the skinny branches of her birth tree to see three human girls scampering up the path. The young god was delighted at their appearance, for perhaps their visit would provide insight into her anomalous presence. Curiously, she watched the girl in front, a beautiful woman with fluffy black hair pinned atop her head, kneel on the ground before the plum tree, and clasp her hands together tightly.

“O, great plum tree that has stood since time immemorial,” the villager announced loudly, “I humbly beseech thee to grant my wish.” The spirit’s ears perked. Wishes? Do I exist to grant the wishes of humans? The god stared at her hands, flexing her fingers. She couldn’t fathom possessing an inherent power to grant the prayers of mortals. Yet, if I exist for this purpose, I must try, she frowned. The girl’s black eyes bored into the cocoa-brown bark of the plum tree with a desperate intensity. “Please, O Goddess of the Lovers’ Plum, please bring me fair fortune!”

One of the girls behind her, a stoic one with short purple-black hair, frowned sardonically.

“Momo, you don’t really believe that nonsense that praying to the plum tree will lead to you meeting your future lover in seven days, right?” she sighed with a shake of her head, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s just an old folktale. I can’t believe you dragged me up here for this…”

“Hush, Kyoka!” the praying girl, evidently named Momo, hissed with an affronted glance over her shoulder. “You’ll anger the spirit, and she won’t grant my wish!” Kyoko’s dissidence indeed angered the tree spirit. Still, she would not spurn the willful young lady for that. Instead, the youthful god grinned and sent a plum falling from the branches above her head. Kyoka yelped as the fruit slammed into her scalp. The plum burst open to spill sticky juice and yellow flesh into her hair. She whined miserably as it dripped onto the white fabric of her kimono. The other companion, a smiling young lady with hair pink like carnations, laughed mirthfully.

“You see, Kyoka? You’ve angered the goddess!”

“Shut up, Mina,” Kyoka growled and disdainfully brushed the clumps of fruit from her head and shoulders. The tree spirit giggled mischievously and returned her attention to the prostrate girl. She had rested her hands on her lap and was staring miserably at the earth. Invisible to their eyes, the young god knelt beside her, staring intently at her forlorn expression. She had realized that humans experienced a phenomenon known as “emotions,” and this one was akin to sadness.

“… I am but a humble seamstress,” Momo lamented woefully. “I beg my father to allow us to travel to Edo and take up shop there so that we may live a better life, but he is adamant we remain by the river. Our family has always resided here, from the time of his grandfather’s grandfather.” Her eyes became lidded as her bottom lip wobbled. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and the tree spirit brushed them away with her fingertips, though the girl likely dismissed it as a mere kiss from the breeze. The god marveled at the glistening tear decorating her finger, a bead of water like dew. She tasted it and then spat it out, finding it to be unbearably salty.

“I wish to meet a man who can spirit me far away from this miserable land!” Momo cried and laid the back of her hand to her forehead in misery. “I wish to see grand things, and sell fine silks to lords and ladies, and live a life of plenty and comfort… Not scrounge for scraps on the shores of a river,” she complained bitterly. The tree spirit was unsure why such a living was undesirable to a human, but then, many of their ways were foreign to her.

“Momo, we have to get going,” Kyoka frowned and glanced down the path leading back to the settlement. “Your mother will be looking for you to mind the shop.”

“Yes, yes,” Momo sighed and rose, brushing the dirt from the fabric covering her knees. The tree spirit hurriedly jumped to her feet, wracking her brain for a manner in which to grant the wish. She elected to follow her instincts.

“Your prayer has been heard, and I grant you my blessing. Go forth and may love find you quickly,” the young god recited and stood on her tiptoes to kiss Momo’s forehead. The girl could not see or hear her, but yet, she blushed slightly and ran her fingertips over the skin there.

“I feel like the goddess heard me,” Momo remarked joyfully to her friends as she trounced over to them. Mina grabbed her arm excitedly and beamed, while Kyoka rolled her eyes but smiled. The spirit watched them meander back down the trail; soon, their avid discussion of young love and hope faded into the sound of rustling leaves and birdsong. She then smiled and squealed and jumped up and down with glee.

At last, the tree spirit knew her purpose.

The tree spirit took to her newfound mission with fervor. Many came to pray to the tree for fair fortune. The god was delighted to find that young Momo had met a fisherman who traveled the length of the river to sell iron-forged weapons seven days after her appeal, and the two fell madly in love. She had immigrated to Edo and now sold hand-crafted kimonos to all manners of folk. The god only had a rudimentary understanding of love, but she could comprehend that love made the humans happy. Summer passed into winter, which moved into the spring. Nine months after she had come into being, the naïve but kind-hearted god met the human who would teach her what it truly meant to love another.

The Coming of Katsuki Bakugo

It was the height of May. The tree spirit had learned the calendar year through her furtive observations of the humans. The air simmered with the sun’s blazing heat, so the tree spirit cooled herself beneath the shady sprawl of her home tree, humming a tune she had learned by watching a washerwoman. She perked up when she heard the unmistakable crunch of sandals upon hard, dried dirt. Sitting up straight and tucking her legs underneath her body, she patiently awaited the arrival of her latest patron. She cocked her head slightly when the muscular form of a man tromped around the corner.

He reminded her of the fishermen- toned and lean, with powerful, thick thighs and bulging arms. He was not dressed in the garb of fishermen, however. The boatmen wore light fabrics that covered their entire body to shield them from the sun’s harsh rays, while this man wore a yukata of thick maroon cloth, with no sleeves and a hem that reached only to his knees. A red-and-white woven rope wound around his forehead. The fishermen were quite a merry bunch, as well, with smiles always alighting their faces and bawdy songs spilling from their lungs, but this human greeted the invisible goddess with a moody scowl. She fidgeted before him, wondering what could cause such irritation.

He stopped in front of the plum tree and gave it a brief once-over. He then snorted and flopped down on his side underneath its shady leaves, holding a hand to his mouth as he yawned. The god observed him fascinatedly, for no human had ever behaved in such a manner before.

“Goddess of the tree or whatever you are,” he droned disinterestedly, “I hope you don’t mind if I take a nap here. It’s hot as shit today.” The little god flushed, recognizing his language as coarse. She inspected him closer to find his brown skin sheened with sweat, and his hands calloused from toil. So he is a laborer, she concluded. She was a goddess and was thus charged with the care of humans, so she supposed allowing the worker to shelter beneath her birth tree was acceptable. She frowned, wishing the plums were in season so she could grant him some fruit to eat. It mattered not, for he was already snoring, resting his head against his arm. The plum tree spirit smiled and stroked his back soothingly.

“Sleep well beneath my blossoms, human man, and recover your strength. I bless you with good fortune in your future endeavors.” She knew he could not hear her, but she fancied he did, because he grunted in his sleep. As he slept beneath her branches, the god observed him critically. He was quite handsome, for a human, with chiseled rugged features and ash-blond hair. His eyes were a brilliant vermilion like the wild red roses that grew along the hill path. She wondered if he did not need to pray for love, because surely such a beautiful human man would be popular among young ladies.

The young man rested for about an hour, until the sun had passed its height to begin its slow descent. He likely would have slept for longer, had it not been for the angry shouting that floated up the hill. The tree spirit straightened up, peering into the greenery as the cursing and yelling grew louder. The human man groaned and scowling, cracking one of his red eyes open to glare reproachfully at the small gap in the bushes that marked the entrance to the hilltop. A man dressed in similar garb, only green, charged through the brambles, red-faced and chest heaving.

“Katsuki Bakugo! What the hell are you doing up here, lounging like a house cat?! You had seventeen orders to fill today!” the angry human scolded. The vermilion-eyed laborer, whom the goddess now knew as Katsuki, scowled condescendingly.

“I filled them, so I came up here to take a nap. Tell me, old man, how much time have you wasted looking for me when you could have been bartering with the tradesmen on the river?” Katsuki remarked and studied the cuticles of his nails. The tree spirit held a hand to her mouth, appalled by the level of disrespect. From what she understood, Katsuki was subservient to this new man, and therefore ought to treat him with honor and dignity. His words carried the tone of anything but. Katsuki sneered as his superior could only sputter and turn the color of a tomato. “Uh-huh.”

“You’re so lucky you’re Mitsuki’s son, or I would fire you in an instant!” the man fumed and stamped his foot. Katsuki frowned and stared unapprovingly up at him. “I owe a life debt to your mother and offer you a place in my business, and this is how you repay me? Sneaking off after you do the bare minimum?!”

“All right, all right, old man, you’re gonna bust my eardrum,” Katsuki grimaced, digging a finger deep into one of his ear canals. Leisurely, he lifted himself into a sitting position. “If you wanted me to stay in the shop to pick up the slack of those other extras, you shoulda said so.” The man growled and pointed a bright red finger at Katsuki but decided that further argument was worthless. He whirled on his heel to tromp back down the pathway, while Katsuki laughed mischievously and shouted after him, “I’m gonna inherit your business one day, you old fart! Watch me!” The plum tree spirit was baffled by the entire exchange, but yet, she could not help but find the spirited young human captivating.

“Bah. Old asshole,” Katsuki huffed and rubbed the short hairs at the base of his neck while he climbed to his feet. He made to begin walking, but then glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. The goddess would have been directly within his line of sight if he could see her. “… Thank you for allowing me to rest here,” he said with a slight bow.

Then he was gone, stomping off into the bushes. The spirit craned her head to watch the ash-blond tufts of his hair vanish amongst the green. After he melted into the wilderness, she reclined against the thin trunk of the plum tree with a small smile. What an interesting human, she thought jubilantly. I wonder if I shall ever see him again.

The Coming of Ochako

Ironically enough, Katsuki Bakugo did return the following day- and the next and the next, every day for more than the plum tree spirit could keep count. He would always come to snooze the height of the afternoon away, and then be hauled off by his disgruntled boss. Without fail, Katsuki would thank her for graciously sheltering him from the heat. The young goddess soon looked forward to his coming every afternoon- and began to muster up the courage to appear before a human for the first time.

The blossoms had born fruit, and emerald leaves had sprouted by the time she made her move. He came just as he came every day, sauntering up the path to toss himself to the ground unceremoniously. This time, she hovered behind the skinny tree trunk, peering through the small bough to watch him march up the hill. I must be brave! I must make myself known to this human, she told herself. She hovered behind the plum tree, her pink kimono ruffling in the summer breeze, and held her breath as his ash-blond hair appeared above the fringe of the tall bushes. His bulky form soon followed. When his red eyes landed on her, he froze mid-step.

“I, um,” he stammered with an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks. He pointed quickly down the path. “I can come back later; no one usually comes to pray at this time…”

“No, no!” she squeaked, scurrying out from her hiding spot as he began to turn. “Please stay. I’m not praying here.” His expression grew even more confused, but he obediently remained rooted to the spot. Flushing, the plum tree spirit bowed low. “I am the spirit of the plum tree. I have much desired to meet you formally.” She peeked between the chestnut waves of her locks to witness his reaction. His mouth hung open in shock for a few seconds, and those vermilion eyes beheld her in wonder.

He then began to cackle with loud laughter.

“Bahahahaha! What a joke!” he howled. She straightened up with knitted eyebrows as he sniggered uncontrollably. He held his belly and doubled over, tears dripping from his blond lashes as his entire body shook. “My dickhead of a boss musta put you up to this. How much did he pay you, huh? Plum tree spirit… Pffft, as if!”

“How dare you!” she fumed. She balled up her fists and stamped her feet angrily. The branches of the plum tree began to writhe and quiver despite there being no gale, and the purple fruits started to plummet to the earth. They burst open in showers of gold, scattering their large pods. “I really am the spirit of the plum tree! What a rude human you are, to belittle me when I have allowed you to sleep under my protection for weeks now!” The shadows of the plum tree began to grow blacker and stretch with a dark malice. Katsuki yelped and began to back-pedal; he tripped over his own feet and landed on his rump.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! I’m sorry!” he protested, waving his hands in surrender as he regarded her with a frightened expression. “It’s just- I don’t- you don’t look like a god.”

“Well, a god I am, so you shall respect me as such!” she huffed and crossed her arms. However, she was satisfied with his acknowledgment, so she relaxed. The plum tree returned to normal, though the sickly-sweet aroma of plums now hung in the air. She regarded the busted fruit with a frown. It would not go to waste, as the birds and beasts would feast upon the succulent flesh, but it was still a shame to make a mess of the place. Katsuki slowly sat up, still gawking at her with a mixture of wonder and awe.

“What’s your name?”

“Name? I do not have one,” she answered, pressing her finger to her lips. “I was not given one. I am simply the spirit of the plum tree.”

“That’s a mouthful,” he snorted. He seemed more at ease now; he was sitting on his haunches, with his legs drawn up and his muscular arms draped over his knees. He pondered for a moment, then smirked. “How about ‘Ochako’? Does that please you, Miss Goddess?” His tone was teasing, but his smirk made her heart race for a reason other than ire. She shuffled her feet and wrung the fold of her kimono nervously.

“O-ochako will do just fine.”

“Ochako, then. My name’s Katsuki.” Ochako supposed she could reply that she was very much aware, but it was customary for humans to introduce themselves, so she refrained. “I make fireworks.”

“Fireworks?” she inquired. In all her time observing the humans, she had not heard such a term. His face visibly brightened at her ignorance.

“Yeah, fireworks! They’re made by combining gunpowder with dyes and other compounds. Then you light them with fire, and they shoot up into the sky to explode into a huge blast of color!” he grinned, gesturing with his hands. Ochako’s brown eyes widened with wonder. Even with his description, she could not imagine such a magnificent display. He leaned back on his hands and smiled warmly at her. “I sailed in with the old man from Edo. Every year, this little backwater village holds a festival to celebrate the river god. It draws in people from all over the country, surprisingly. Me and the old man sail here in May to prepare, and trade with the locals, too, and then in August, we launch all the fireworks to honor the god.” He paused with a frown. “You’re a god here, so surely you must have seen it?” he frowned. Ochako shook her head.

“No. I was born only last summer, very late.” she frowned. “There are many things of this world that I have yet to know and see…” Katsuki grimaced and regarded her curiously.

“How were you born?”

“I am not entirely sure, but I believe I came from the wishes of the locals,” she said with a glance of the plum-laden tree. She smiled wistfully, thinking back to her first prayer, Momo the seamstress. “I came from the hope in their hearts to help grant them fortune in the endeavors of true love. I am not sure if I possess any real power, but I give them my blessing, all the same.” She glanced back at him with a light laugh. “Truth be told, when you first climbed this hill, I thought that you were coming to pray, not sleep!” Katsuki blushed and shifted a little on the ground. “But you are such a handsome human, so surely you don’t need my blessings. I am sure you already have a fine wife.” His face turned the color of her kimono, and he looked away with a pout. Ochako raised her eyebrows. “Am I mistaken…?”

“Yup. Don’t really have time for a woman. We travel all throughout Japan sellin’ fireworks and all. Not too many gals are willin’ to live a life like that,” he said quietly. Ochako detected a hint of bitterness in his voice. Expression concerned, she walked over to kneel beside him, tucking her kimono under her calves.

“Would you like me to give you my blessing?”

“Nah,” he laughed and smiled confidently at her. “I just came here to nap.” Ochako giggled, holding her hand to her mouth like she often saw the refined ladies that sometimes sailed into the village did.

“Very well. I can grant that wish.” She rose and gestured to the circle of shade surrounding the plum tree. Katsuki followed her over, and she knelt once more, then patted the plush of her thighs. He raised a hesitant eyebrow. “It’s all right. I’m sure I am much more comfortable than the ground.” Slowly, he eased himself onto his back perpendicular to her seated form and rested the back of his head on her lap. He wiggled a little to get himself comfortable, then relaxed his hands on his stomach, fingers laced together. His brilliant red eyes sparkled like rubies as they gazed attentively up at her.

“Have you really been alone up here all this time?” he asked her quietly. Ochako blinked, then smiled sweetly and looked out into the quaint little wood surrounding the hill.

“Yes. I am the only one here,” Ochako confirmed, “but it’s all right. I am blessed with the smiles of my patrons and the living creatures of the wood. It may be a solitary life, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It is a fulfilling existence to bring others happiness. I may be but a minor god, but that is my charge. I will accept that role readily.” She glanced down at him to find him smiling kindly.

“When fall comes, and I sail off, I’ll tell everyone about Ochako the Plum Tree Goddess. Soon you’ll be known far and wide, and a shrine will be built in your honor.” Ochako beamed at that, visions of a sparkling and well-tended shrine with mikos blooming in her imagination.

“That would be lovely,” she agreed with a nod. “But until then, I shall be content if you but visit me.” Katsuki laughed.

“Yeah, okay, Ochako.” His red irises vanished beneath his closing eyelids. His breathing soon became deep and unlabored. Ochako smiled benignly and stroked his forehead, admiring the softness of his fluffy blond hair.

Yes, she thought blissfully, just keep resting here beneath my boughs, and I shall never be alone.

The Coming of a Goddess’ Love

As promised, Katsuki returned to the Lovers’ Plum every day to speak with Ochako. They sat side-by-side against the thin trunk, and he regaled her with the many, many wonders of the human world. Ochako learned more listening to Katsuki than in her year of secretly observing the humans. She was delighted to learn that they were a very innovative breed, creating a plethora of remarkable tools and novelties. Their creativity and ingenuity were unmatched by any being on this earth.

However, she was also saddened to learn that humans could also be devastatingly violent. Katsuki told her of roving bands of rogues who pillaged farmsteads, of great wars waged between immense hosts of forces, of the seeds of evil that germinated within individuals and caused them to steal and murder and rape. Ochako surmised that it was merely the balance of nature, as light cannot exist without an equal dark, but regardless it still depressed her. Humans were such charming beings. She hated that within them festered the tendencies for destruction.

As June passed into July, the air grew warmer- as did their relationship. They took to wandering the woods, admiring the fanciful splendors of the natural world. On one such occasion, they stumbled upon a vast field of wildflowers- a colorful rainbow as far as the eye could see. Ochako squealed and dove into the blanket of petals, watching as her movements sprung them from their confines, and they raced away on the wind. Her fingers trailed over them, feeling their softness, and her eyes beheld fluttering butterflies and bobbling bumblebees gathering the pollen and feasting on the nectar. When she turned to invite Katsuki into the magical field, he was already right there, tucking a bloom behind her ear and giving her a smile that made her heart race in a manner she had never felt.

“Ochako,” he breathed with a gentle look.

“Yes?”

“You’re beautiful.” His fingers took a swathe of her soft brown hair, his thumb stroking along the strands. She flushed and held a hand to her cheek; she was unable to look at him for her bashfulness. He seemed not to mind her lack of response, for he continued to gaze at her with that smoldering warmth that sent unbridled joy pulsing through her body.

From that day forth, Ochako looked forward to his coming with an overwhelming rapture. One day, at the tail end of July, Katsuki posed the notion of venturing into the village.

“I’m not sure, Katsuki,” she frowned, kneeling amongst the roots of the tree. The fruits were growing overripe and falling from the branches, leaving the grasses sticky and coated with the golden juice. Birds and beasts scrounged for the mushy flesh and seed pods left behind in the fruits’ fermentation. “You are the only human I have ever revealed myself to.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone you’re a god,” he reassured. “Please. I want to enjoy more than just a measly hour or two with you.” Ochako flushed at that, fidgeting as that incredible joy wrapped around her heart like ribbon. Curling a piece of her hair around her finger, she pondered the suggestion. I suppose it’s all right, as long as I pretend that I am human. Thus, she agreed, and Katsuki promised to retrieve her that afternoon around sunset.

After he bid her farewell, Ochako experienced true impatience for the first time. She restlessly paced the small area around her plum tree, and even fidgeted distractedly during the few prayers she granted. The sun seemed to mock her by inching along the blue expanse, refusing to go at a pace more than a snail’s crawl. That was actually one way in which Ochako occupied herself- by watching one of the shelled creatures slide along a large grass blade. When it reached the summit, bending the grass blade under its heavy weight, it wiggled its antenna and pondered its next move. It turned around and began slinking down the way it came.

After what seemed a life age, the blue sky began to bleed with red and orange and gold. The sun melted behind the collection of houses hugging the river. One by one, the settlement’s torches blazed to life, illuminating the area with flickering fire. The thatch roofs caught the sunlight to burn gold, and the few glimpses of the water Ochako could catch from her high perch revealed the river to be sparkling like the stars.

“Katsuki!” Ochako squealed when he came traipsing through the bushes. She rushed to him, beaming, and he affectionately ruffled her bouncy brown hair. She crooned in delight and nuzzled into his palm. Though it was roughened by much toil, it still felt nice when he caressed her.

“Ready?” he asked with an endearing smile. Ochako nodded ecstatically. “Let’s go, then.” She blushed bright pink when he offered her his hand. From the way the village girls talked, holding hands was a romantic gesture, at least within humans their age range. Ochako gulped and timidly reached out to grasp his hand. Her fingers slid alongside his like a mechanism locking into place- naturally. His hand was so warm, and the calloused skin felt pleasurable against her soft palm. Her heart jumped in her throat as he allowed their arms to fall loosely between them, and they swung slightly with every step they took down the path. As the buildings grew larger and larger, she found herself pressing into his hefty frame, as if he could shield her from the unknown.

The village rang with noise, even at night.

The air hummed with pleasant conversation. The denizens lounged on their porches to enjoy the warm summer evening, smoking on pipes and sharing bottles of sake. Children squealed as they chased fireflies in their yards or bounced rubber balls with sticks or wrestled with dogs in the mud. The grass gave way to wooden walkways that connected the houses and extended onto the river, where the fishermen moored their boats. With the coming of night, they had ventured in from the water and were clustered around barrels, laughing raucously as they bet on cards or shogi games. Every once in a while, they would get heated and start brawling, only to tumble into the river and come up laughing. The glow from the braziers cast a warm red glow on everything that complimented the natural light of the full moon above. Ochako’s head swiveled on her neck as she attempted to absorb every detail of the humans’ lives as she could. Katsuki watched her with an amused smirk.

“Here’s where I work,” he announced when they had ventured deep into the waterfront settlement. It was a large building set back from the water. It was open to the air, with only a sloped roof to shield it from the elements. Smoke poured from within, and Ochako’s nose wrinkled at the acrid scent of earthy minerals. “Would you like to see the fireworks?” Ochako nodded eagerly; she had been much enthralled with the human device since their first meeting. Katsuki chuckled and brought her inside.

“Eijirou!” he called as he lifted the cloth flap that served as a door, though large open windows framed either side of it. Large tables stretched throughout the space and were laden with a variety of objects Ochako knew not the name for. A redheaded man came trotting out of the gloom, wiping his hands on a cloth with soot staining his smiling face.

“Hey, Katsuki! Comin’ to burn the midnight oil? We still have a lot to do before the River God Festival.”

“Hell no,” Katsuki snorted derisively. He raised his arm to reveal Ochako, who was hiding behind his massive bulk and peering shyly around his ribs at the newcomer Eijirou. “I came to show her around.”

“Oh, is that so? So, you’re the girl Katsuki’s been sneaking off to see every afternoon,” the redhead grinned with a playful wink. Ochako’s cheeks brightened as she peeked up at Katsuki. Does he talk about me? Katsuki tched and gave Eijirou a dismissive wave, but from the delighted twinkle in his red eyes, Ochako could tell that Katsuki looked upon the other fondly. She gulped and snuck further behind Katsuki’s back as Eijirou approached. He gripped his chin and stepped around the blond to inspect her critically. She pressed her face into Katsuki’s back, peering bashfully at him through the gap in her brown hair. “Well, no wonder our Katsuki is so smitten. You sure are a cutie!”

“Oi! Go make yourself useful, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki growled and shoved Eijirou in the shoulder.

“Hey now, hey now, I’m not intruding,” the redhead smirked and pranced away. “I’m just stating facts, that’s all~!” With a giddy laugh, Eijirou made himself busy assembling the fireworks. Curious now, Ochako peeled herself away from the man to ease over. She froze when Eijirou glanced out of his peripheral vision at her, but he only smiled and continued about his business. She crept up to the table, craning her neck to observe the process. He was loading a multitude of grainy particles into a tube, then capping them with a conical shape. A large pile of them already sat on the edge of the table, hued in blues and greens and reds. She poked one experimentally, then tugged at the black strings on the end.

“Careful,” Katsuki warned and gently pulled her fingers away. “Those are the fuses. We light them to shoot them off. Wouldn’t want these exploding down here,” he smiled gently.

“Yeah, the boss’d really kill you then,” Eijirou snickered. Katsuki scowled and stuck out his tongue at him.

“That old man won’t do shit because he’s too busy pining after my old lady.”

“Yeah,” Eijirou laughed, “your mom sure has fun letting him cling to her skirts. You know he bought her a real ruby hairpin the other day? Are you sure your mom isn’t actually-”

“Hey, you watch it,” Katsuki warned and jabbed a finger into his chest. “My mom would never cheat on my old man with that greasy old fart.” Eijirou laughed and held his hands up in surrender.

“All right, all right, I was just kidding.” Katsuki snorted and grabbed Ochako by her elbow to gently lead her out of the fireworks shop. She hurriedly looked over her shoulder and gave Eijirou a wave of farewell.

“Tch. Shitty smiling jerk,” Katsuki grumbled.

“He seems like a good friend,” Ochako smiled. Katsuki blushed, then shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck.

“He’s all right. He makes work a hell of a lot less boring.” Ochako snickered at his reluctance to admit his fondness for the boy. It was a very Katsuki thing to do.

They continued to wander the township, eventually arriving upon a stall selling jeweled accessories. Ochako had always admired the hairpins some of the young girls wore when they ventured up to her plum tree and had secretly yearned for a pretty adornment. She released Katsuki’s hand to scamper over to the stall. She cooed over a bright pink one inlaid with round pink gems and styled in the likeness of a plum blossom. The aged man operating the booth smiled kindly.

“Ah, yes. That’s a popular model. The young girls around here fancy it as homage to the Lovers’ Plum.” Ochako blushed as she was unintentionally praised. She held up the hairpin, admiring the way the moonlight played over the crystalline gems. Ochako knew that such items required money to acquire, however, and as a goddess with no human trade, she possessed no funds. A bit blue, she set the hairpin down on the counter- only for Katsuki to throw down a handful of bills.

“That should cover it, right, old man?” The stall tender pursed his lips and leafed through the wad of cash, handing a few of them back to Katsuki before pushing the hairpin towards Ochako.

“Katsuki, you didn’t have to-” He shushed her and picked up the hairpin. Her eyes widened as he tenderly pushed the accessory into her curling brown hair, pinning the gorgeous flower right above her ear. His hand fell so that his fingertips brushed over her cheekbone, spreading a pink haze in its wake. The pads of his fingers traveled to her mouth, resting over her lips.

“Beautiful.”

It was in that moment that Ochako the plum tree spirit realized that she was head-over-heels in love with the human Katsuki Bakugo.

The Coming of the Colorful Night

A delighted smile graced Ochako’s lips as she admired her reflection in the rain puddle. The flower hairpin glimmered in the sunlight, accenting the rosy blush ever-present in her youthful cheeks. She sighed dreamily and laid on her belly in the damp grass, kicking her feet over her back. She imagined the smirking personage of Katsuki in the water, and the way he smiled so affectionately at her that night. She whispered his name, and just that small action sent tingles of joy flooding through her nerves. With a squeal, she clutched her beating heart and rolled over.

At last, I know what it means to be in love!

It was a wonderful feeling. Ochako knew now why the humans so desperately sought its graces. Her soul felt like it was continually floating on air, giving her a blissful weightless sensation. Her face ached from incessantly smiling, but it was a good ache. She could occupy her mind for hours reminiscing of their many ventures. She sighed wistfully again and watched the breeze toss about the emerald leaves of her tree. The golden light was filtering through, dappling her body with shadow.

Unfortunately, Katsuki would not be visiting today. It was the afternoon of the River God Festival, and the shop owner had insisted on his presence. However, Katsuki did promise to collect her near sundown so that they could watch the fireworks together. When she had inquired if that would anger his boss, he haughtily replied that he didn’t much care. The sun was sinking through the sky, drawing ever closer to the horizon, and Ochako was awaiting his arrival with bated breath.

Tonight, I am going to tell him that I love him!

She rolled onto her belly and watched a ladybird crawl up a blade of grass. Resting her cheek on her forearm and smiling blissfully, she fantasized about her impending confession. Surely, Katsuki loved her as well; she was not ignorant of the way he looked at her. He actively sought out her presence and often called her beautiful or gorgeous, and he always held her hand tightly, as if he never wanted to let go. Then that look in his eyes- that look like he was beholding the most sublime creature on earth, one that held his entire body and soul. If that was not love, then Ochako didn’t know what was.

She hopped to her feet when she heard the familiar sound of footsteps.

“Hey, Ochako,” Katsuki beamed when she jumped up to scuttle over to him. She threw her arms around him in a hug, burying her nose into his sternum and breathing in the strong scent of sulfur and gunpowder that clung to him. She had grown used to the odor and now found it very soothing. His strong arms surrounded her in a returned embrace, and he pressed his face into the top of her head. “Are you ready?” She nodded ecstatically and looked up at him with sparkling eyes.

“Let’s go, hurry so that we can find a good spot!” she demanded and tore away from him to start running down the path. He grabbed her wrist, and she jerked back. When she looked at him confusedly, he gestured to the plum tree. “We’ll be able to see them from here?” she asked and looked down the path again, unsure.

“I promise. After all, all we only need to see the sky,” Katsuki said and pointed above their heads. Ochako looked up with a frown. The sky above the plum tree was remarkably clear and wide, not tainted by the light of the township below. Ochako elected to take him at his word, and they tromped over to the tree, sitting at its base. Their sides pressed together, and Katsuki kept their hands linked, running the pad of his thumb over the top of her hand. It made jolts of electricity travel up her arm, but she loved the feeling.

The sun slowly sank into the river, and the watchful night closed in. One by one, the stars blinked into existence, sparkling like gems in the vast expanse of the blue-black sky. The crescent moon hung low, bathing the world in just enough of its glow to cast long black shadows. The gloom enveloped Ochako and Katsuki like a blanket. Even in the darkness, his ruby eyes glimmered as they flickered to her. His smile curled on his lips, but when she went to speak, he put a finger to his mouth and gestured upwards with his chin.

There was a sound like a shriek, and then a resounding pop. Ochako jumped at the sudden noise, but it was soon forgotten as color exploded against the dark backdrop of the night sky. Ruby-red sparkles filled the air, spreading like tree roots across the blackness before fizzling out. More shrieks sounded in the distance, and the sky came alive with more color than Ochako had ever seen. Her mouth hung open as she gawked shamelessly at the splendorous display unfolding before her.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Yeah. It sure is.” She glanced at him to find him staring right at her. That sweet smile like she was the thing dearest to him graced his lips, and his vermilion eyes glimmered with a roaring flame no water could ever douse. Her heart thumped hard against her ribcage as his gaze dropped down to her lips. She gulped slightly, digging her fingers into the fabric of her kimono, as his hand slowly rose to cup her cheek. “Ochako,” he breathed. His thumb traced a trail across her cheekbone in repetitive caresses. She watched with lidded eyes as the colors played across his face, dull glows of red and blue and green and gold kaleidoscoping in a beautiful array. His face edged closer, and her eyes fell closed in anticipation.

His lips molded over hers like the sweetest honey. Ochako’s chest swelled with a deep inhale at the wondrous feeling. It felt like she had long been lost, and she had finally returned home. She pushed into the kiss, desperate for more contact, and her hands jumped forward to splay across his chest. His hand pushed into her hair to grip the back of her head and angle it, kissing her with more fervor. The fireworks continued to explode overhead, but Ochako no longer thought them magical. No, the magical thing was this man in front of her, the man who had appeared so suddenly one day and taught her what it meant to love.

When they pulled apart, tears glimmered in her eyes.

“Katsuki. Katsuki, I love you,” she blurted. The words had ballooned within her, filling her chest with a painful tightness. She suddenly had the suspicion she was going to disappear, perhaps even before her waking eyes. “I love you so much. Please, I-” He gently shushed her and placed two fingers over her lips, then leaned in to press a sweeter, chaste kiss to her mouth. His other hand fell to grasp hers and interlace their fingers.

“I love you too, Ochako,” he murmured against her mouth, eyes still closed. Ochako groaned and melted against him, savoring their way their parted lips meshed and their breath mixed in the warm night air. He gripped her hips and pushed against her, and her body obeyed his silent command, laying back into the cool grass. He climbed atop her, her legs slotting perfectly before his spread knees, and he began to pepper her face with little kisses.

“I’m so fucking grateful I stumbled upon this fucking plum tree-” he growled, his kisses becoming more fervent and open-mouthed. Ochako mewled as he dropped his head to plant lingering, ardent kisses along the column of her neck. His hands kneaded the plush flesh of her hips. She threaded her fingers into his tousled ash-blond hair and peered through her lashes. The emerald leaves of the plum tree blanketed them, and beyond that bloomed a brilliant night sky alive with all the colors of the universe.

There, with only the plum tree and that sky to bear witness, Ochako and Katsuki sealed their love for one another forevermore.

The Coming of the End

Katsuki didn’t come the following day, or the next or the next. Ochako surmised it was the constant rain. It poured endlessly from the heavens like they were weeping, saturating the earth. Puddles bloomed on the ground and grew larger every day, and they melded into each other to create a latticework of water channels and small ponds. The water streamed down the slope of the hill to pool in the lower lands, and soon the path flooded over completely. Isolated atop her lonely knoll with the plum tree, Ochako recalled Katsuki’s hands blazing trails across her body, and the clouds of their breath misting in the cooling night, and the way they sang each other’s names to the skies.

The rain continued for several weeks, and then it stopped. The sun finally breached the barrier of the gray clouds to shower the earth in its spearing rays. Slowly, the voluminous water soaked into the ground. Curious to how the humans fared, Ochako ventured down to the village-

and was greeted with nothing short of a tragedy.

The swelling of the river had ravaged the small settlement. It still exceeded its banks, pouring over the porches of the low-lying houses. Furniture and trinkets and clothes that had once carried sentiment floated in the current, occasionally catching on the spindly fingers of broken branches and even wholly uprooted trees. The wooden walkways were now roads for the river trout, and the townsfolk meandered between the flood buildings in their boats. A few of the vessels had not been so lucky. They were either sunk into the depths of the river or had crashed into the houses. The air was rank with depression and anxiety. The fireworks workshop had collapsed, with the roof sticking up out of the water at an odd angle and the cloth door floating on the surface. Ochako couldn’t find the little accessory stall at all.

Ochako fled back up the hill, unable to bear the sadness any longer. She collapsed at the base of her tree and wept. Clasping her hands together so hard that her knuckles glared white, she prayed, and prayed, and prayed. She prayed for Momo and her fisherman husband, for Kyoka and Mina, for the grumpy fireworks shop owner and Eijirou and the friendly accessory shop owner- and for Katsuki, she prayed aloud until her throat was raw and she was coughing up blood. Yet she kept praying, until finally, darkness took her, and she melted into unconsciousness.

When she awoke, he was sitting up against the plum tree with her head in his lap. She would have jumped up and hugged him if his expression had not been so miserable. His fingers slowly teased through her locks of chestnut hair. He had been doing so a while, as evidenced by the channels parting the swathes of her locks. Frowning, she raised a hand to brush her fingertips over his chin.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer her immediately. When he did, he cast his vermilion eyes into the distance, as if he could not bear to look at her. Finally, he whispered, “You’re going to die, Ochako.”

She sat up, her frown deepening. Katsuki clicked his tongue at her expression of confusion and looked down at his lap.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“The locals say the flood was the wrath of the river god. Apparently, they think that revering the plum tree has angered him, and he flooded the town in vengeance. They-” he choked on his words. He pushed his fist into his mouth as tears blossomed in his eyes. “They’re going to cut the plum tree down.” Ochako paled as frightening realization dawned upon her. Ochako was born of the plum tree and its associated prayers. If they removed the plum tree and ceased to pray, Ochako would disappear. Terrified, she jumped forward to cling to Katsuki, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Katsuki, I don’t want to die!” she wailed in dismay. Her heart hammered in her throat, and a tremor gripped her body. Katsuki threw his arms around her in a smothering embrace, burying his face into her hair as he hiccupped with a broken sob. She snuggled into him, surrounding herself in his warmth and gunpowder scent, as if it could shield her from her coming death. It could not, however; she could hear the mob approaching already, shouts and curses floating on the early morning air.

“I won’t let them,” he snarled and hugged her tighter. Ochako whimpered, but as much as she would admire him for defending her honor, she could not allow it.

“No, Katsuki! If you interfere, they’ll murder you,” she insisted, prying herself away from him. She sucked in a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, slowly bringing herself down from the fearful mania. He stared at her incredulously.

“Ochako, if we do nothing, they’ll murder you!”

The shouts and curses grew louder. Birds took to the air, startled by the aggressive ascent of the river folk. Time was running out.

“I have an idea,” Ochako said and hopped to her feet. She clambered into the boughs of her plum tree to pluck the last remaining fruit of the season from its branches. Falling back to the flats of her feet, she tore away the golden flesh to reveal the pit within. She thrust it out to Katsuki, and he took it with startled hands. “This seed contains the essence of my birth tree,” she told him firmly. “Take it far from here and plant it. As long as my tree can bloom once more, and you continue to believe in me, I shall not cease to exist.” She smiled painfully as his expression contorted in pain. His quivering hand brushed over her cheek, and she leaned into his touch.

“Ochako, no,” he begged. Her heart shattered as his voice cracked with agony. The tears flowed down her cheeks like the accursed rain, burning as it trailed over her skin. “I can’t watch them do this.”

“You must, and you will,” she told him gently. She grabbed his hand and turned her head to press a long kiss into his calloused palm. “I will see you again,” she vowed, looking at him with heated brown eyes. He choked out another sob again, then grabbed her wrist to yank her forward. Her body fell upon his, and their lips crashed together in a tumultuous, passionate, heartbroken kiss. Katsuki kissed her right up until the moment the mob stormed into the clearing before she vanished before his eyes. The angry mob shoved him to the side despite his fragmented pleas, and he crashed to the ground. He watched, wide-eyed and clutching the little seed pod to his chest, as they swung the axe into the skinny trunk of the plum tree. It only took the one swing to bore deep into the heart of its wood, and with a noise not unlike an agonized scream, the tree fell backward and crashed into the earth. The leaves quivered with dying breaths, and sap poured like blood from the wound.

The rain began to pour though not a cloud was in the sky. It was as if the world was lamenting the loss of its purest soul.

The Coming of the Legend

Katsuki Bakugo sailed away from the riverside town that very afternoon. He bought a little clay pot and took some soil from the hill to plant the plum tree seed, and he waited. The boat meandered along the river to destination after destination, festival after festival, but the seed did not take root. Yet he waited, optimistic that his love would return. He slept with the little pot of dirt tucked against his chest, and sometimes, he imagined it was Ochako’s heartbeat and not his own pulsing through the clay and earth. Three months went by, but nothing ever sprouted from the seed. Hope was all he had, and he clung to it like a lifeline. His boss once ridiculed him for obsessing over the empty pot and had attempted to toss it into the river, and Katsuki broke the man’s nose and an arm struggling to get it back.

The old fogey finally fired him for that stunt.

Katsuki returned home to his lofty home on the outskirts of Edo. His mother had made her fortune designing kimonos. Even the waiting ladies to the wealthiest samurai wore her designs, or so it was said. Ginkgo trees and cherry blossoms and pines towered above the ornate building, but their sprawling garden did not possess a plum tree. Katsuki found a patch of earth about the size of the hilltop and planted the seed, which had not rotted even after three months in the small pot of soil. He took up a profession cooking and made more money than he ever had crafting fireworks. Every night when he returned home, arms aching and smelling of various spices and meats, he would go to the garden and look for a sprout.

He’d kneel at the spot and pray until his throat bled raw, and blisters burst on his clasped hands, and he would water the earth with his tears.

The servants began to whisper that he had gone mad over the drowning of his lover in the riverside town. His mother and father looked on in concern but allowed Katsuki his grieving. Katsuki had always been a hothead, but his temper shortened a drastic amount; he would scrap with strangers in the streets if they so much as looked at him the wrong way. He punched holes in the walls and kicked over furniture at the slightest provocation. He’d grab his clothes and tear them to shreds, simply because his world was falling apart around him, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

His muscles wasted, for he had not the care to tend them. Weight sloughed from his frame, as food or drink tasted like ash in his mouth. His body took to a persistent cold, but no doctor could mend him, for his illness was of the heart. The whole world seemed dark, for his sun had been cruelly snuffed out of existence.

Six months to the day after the felling of the plum tree, he fell to his knees before the buried plum tree seed and beseeched the glittering night sky. He screamed, and he roared, and he yelled, and he cried, begging the gods to take mercy on a virtuous plum tree spirit who graced the world with love and light. The servants looked on in awed horror as he begged the heavens for recompense until dawn began to peek over the horizon, and then darkness took him.

When he awoke, it was beneath the shade of a fully-grown plum tree. His head was cushioned by something soft and plush, and someone was stroking his ash-blond hair with loving fingers. His vision gradually cleared to reveal a smiling brunette, with round cheeks and a blissful smile and eyes like the earth.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Katsuki.”

As generations came and went, the landscape of Japan changed, and so did the illustrious manor of the Bakugo family- yet the plum tree remained, a monument to an era long lost. The household had been torn down and rebuilt many times over, remodeled by inheritors of the family’s fortune.

Yet, they never touched the plum tree. That’s because everyone knew the legend of the Lovers’ Plum- the saga of a love so powerful that no force on this earth could break it. Rumor says that the plum tree spirit still inhabits the tree and grants wishes of romance to those who reach her ears, and that on nights where fireworks fill the sky, one can see her and her human beloved seated beneath its boughs, holding hands and staring into one another’s eyes.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#kacchako #bakuraka #bakugo x uraraka #bakugo x ochako #uraraka x bakugo #ochako x bakugo #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #kacchako fanfic #kacchako fanfiction

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witchqueenofthemoon · 5 years

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BODY AND SOUL Part 30 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I finished this chapter a few days ago but I’m hard at work on 31, hence me taking my time on getting it up. I appreciate my Duckenzies more than I can say, but it’s important for me to remind myself that this fic is, primarily, for me and my own fulfillment and happiness. I started it because I couldn’t find anything like it in the world and it was what I wanted to read. But don’t worry. I’m going to share everything with y’all to the end. I’m just really wrapped up in actually WORKING on it, you know? A reminder that this is Kenzie’s dress in this part, this is Duncan’s shirt. The first song Kenzie finds on the radio is Halsey’s HEAVEN IN HIDING, a song so wildly Duckenzie it took my breath the fuck away the first time I heard it, the second song is Halsey’s YOUNG GOD, which is also very Duckenzie. I decided to discard most of the canon scene from HOUSE OF CARDS where Duncan discusses his mother with Annette (mostly because I wanted Bill to be dead by the time they got back from the cabin); the only thing I really retained is her “from the moment I saw you...” dialogue. My!Duncan’s birth mother Valerie is a Connie Britton/Vivien Harmon AU, and rather than working for Annette as a cleaning lady (like the HoC canon), I made her a woman Annette only knew in passing. Duncan’s real father in my story is an unnamed Evan Peters/Tate AU. It was important to me to emphasize that Duncan hasn’t really changed as a person, rather the moral compass was in him all along and he’s chosen not to ignore it anymore. We all have a spectrum of morality in us, one that we choose from daily. Duncan’s soul is endlessly redeemable because his nature, like all of us, is determined by his choices. Annette calls her “Kenzie” for the first time in this chapter, and Duncan calls Madeline “Momby”; cue tears from me. I’m obsessed with the rose choker, so Duckenzie are obsessed with it too, and now it’s become an integral part of their sex life, more than any of their other toys. The young reporter who speaks to Kenzie is my own character; a bright young soul touched by the love she can see in Duckenzie, nothing more, nothing less (I may have thought of my sweet Diah @surprisebitchwrites a little bit for her, ngl). Kenzie and Duncan see the Triple Goddess this time because every time they fuck their sex is legitimately a holy act; sacred, and they’re waking up to that. If you’re reading this fic, please like and reblog the masterpost and the individual chapters--it helps people find my story because tumblr’s tags are so fucking broken and awful. Shout out to @goddess-of-inferno who has made not one but TWO Duckenzie moodboards over the past week, here and here. Jaz, you are an angel. When I finish the fic I’m going to make a masterpage for all the edits my Duckenzies have done for the fic, because I love and appreciate them all so fucking much and want any future Duckenzie fans to be able to find them. I love you all.

Duncan had gone downstairs to wake Rosemary a half hour later. Kenzie had been reading to him still for a little while, a story called The Rose Garden from the book of M.R. James ghost stories, and had been delighting over his squirms of discomfort.

“I love how easily you get scared,” she had murmured up to his mouth, and he gave her a look of affectionate annoyance, which softened immediately at her next words, “because you grab onto me and hold me so tightly and bury your face on me--” which Duncan proceeded to do, egged on, happy to please her. Kenzie had glanced over his shoulder to the clock on one of the laurel-adorned mantels a moment later, and noticed it was past midnight. The smell of the fire pit was still drifting inside, the night without darker than yesterday, the sky peppered with thick clouds. When Duncan had come back upstairs, Kenzie’s eyes on him half-lidded in sleep, he’d had a note clutched in one hand, written out on Shepherd-crest monogrammed note-paper.

“She’s gone, Kenz,” he’d whispered, reaching it out to her. Kenzie sat up, gazing down at it, a sudden sadness pressing on her. She could tell by Duncan’s eyes that he was too--we loved her immediately, entirely.

High Princess and Evening Star,

I’m needed back in New Orleans. The Goddess has new work for me to do (such is the life of her seers). I expect a wedding invitation. Come see me sometime on the bayou. I took the rest of that good blue-strain, Duncan. I’m sure you don’t mind.

Rosemary Antigone Delacroix

Below this she’d left an address on the Vieux Carre. “That’s a beautiful area,” Duncan said, sliding back onto the bed. “This gives us an excuse to go to New Orleans, anyhow.”

Kenzie was falling back into the pillow, her eyes drifting closed. She felt warm, tingling vibrations all over her body, as if she had been submerged in warm water for the second time that night; she felt the cloudy hand of sleep pressing down.

“Come here, Dunny, turn the light off,” she whispered, and she watched the shadows under her eyelids as he leaned to the lamp; then the room was dark and his arms were coming around her, his lips cupping against her cheek.

“I feel like we owe her a lot more than a quarter of an ounce of weed,” she whispered to him, aching with relief at the feeling of his large body enveloping hers.

“We definitely do,” he murmured into her ear, the soft tickle of his breath making Kenzie shiver and smile, burrowing down against him, his hand catching hold of her breast. “I wonder what she does for a living. Maybe she’d accept a position in the company.”

“Something tells me she’s probably not interested in corporate life...” Kenzie murmured, her words bleeding out into unintelligible mumbling. Before she drifted into a dream, she heard his reply.

“I don’t think I’m interested in corporate life anymore, either, Kenz.”

And then she was asleep.

In the dream she had, she was her other self. The one with white-gold hair that fell to her knees, and clothing made of fabrics that did not exist on earth, and she was staring out over a vast expanse of clouds in dusky colors that she couldn’t quite remember the names for--they were more iridescent, more obtuse, ever-changing, miraculous in their design. The colors of heaven. There were plants growing all around her, but she didn’t recognize any of them; they too were in colors that seemed too lovely to match anything she knew, in shapes that on earth would have been impossible, some in a soft gold that was more like an emotion than a tangible object.

Blessed one, she heard a voice call behind her; the language it spoke wasn’t English, but she knew what it said all the same--and she knew the voice, the sound of it like perfect nectar. Exalted of the pantheon of all beauty, all goodness, all brightness, all marvels. Please bless me. Look upon me, and give me your blessing. I have ached for you. My soul has been wracked with your multitude.

In the dream, she turned; her eyes, clear with a sight that no human could achieve, could make out every detail of that Duncan’s fair face, the marvelous strands of his golden hair, the piercing, eternal depth of his eyes. There was some kind of blade or long stick at his back; she could see the dip of it above the silvery circlet of leaves and tiny flowers around his head. Leaves made of silver; but, maybe not silver. That doesn’t look like any silver I’ve ever seen. It seems much softer. The blade pulsed with an bluish energy like fire, a force that flickered, seemed to shift between the place they were and another place. As blue as the nebulas in his eyes; for they are inextricably connected.

Flame of the Evening Star, she thought, and knew that’s what it was called; and that it was holy, gifted to him by Her, the triple-faced Goddess, The Fates, and that it protected him and it protected her, too, in this strange garden, and for that, Kenzie was infinitely grateful, her emotion deeper than the dream, further, consuming, immense. She knew I would love him. She wrote the Law so that I could always be with him--that never long would he suffer in my sight, that if taken by Darkness, as he was in That Other Place, when he became that dark self, Michael, as Rosemary called him, I would be able to save him still, my power greater, my will unshakable. My will to love him always; to redeem him, always. And so it is.

The dream, after that, she couldn’t remember when she woke; but she knew she was with him, in it, and that they were full of joy.

When she opened her eyes she knew it was early still from the light, and was glad for that; as lovely as it had been to sleep into the day yesterday in Duncan’s arms, she’d been sad to lose the time, sad to not be conscious of this wonderful place as long as she could be. Kenzie Lou, go get some flowers. Flowers for the bed at home, flowers for the housekeepers who work so hard, flowers for Momby, Clairebear, Candice, Samuel, Harris, Anchaly, and yes, flowers for Annette too, Annette whose heart is broken because you know, as Rosemary told you, that her brother is dead, ushering in the new world. Those flowers are special, the ones that grow inside the black oaks, and they are your blessing for the ones you love, flowers touched by the universe, as you are Duncan’s flower, bringing him your light. As the destiny of this world has shifted towards fortune, those flowers will signify the change.

Kenzie turned, sliding carefully out of Duncan’s arms, lips brushing his cheek. She wondered, sunlight dappling the bed as she watched him, if he’d had the same dream. I think so. I think we were together. It felt like we were, but I just can’t remember. She sat still on the sheets, breathing in and out, watching him; wanting to press her lips against his heart, the bump of his throat, the shivering delicacy of his eyelashes.

Soon to be my husband, but I feel like he already is. Getting married, having a wedding; that’s for our families, our friends. We’re already married, aren’t we? We have been for a very long time. We’ve been tied with an unbreakable bond for immeasurable time. Kenzie reached out, her fingers almost brushing his russet-caramel hair, but stopped, afraid to wake him, afraid to disturb the shrouded halo the sun was making along his forehead. She saw the silvery leaves and flowers there again--thought of the purple alyssum crushed under his curls.

If he woke when she was in the black oaks, she knew he would be able to find her if he looked for her. The way you found me at the Gala, with your mind. The thread between us. Your power, my power. Always together.

Kenzie slid out of the bed quietly and got dressed--slipped the little white mini dress over her head, cool against her flushed skin, clasping her rose quartz stone (love love love) around her neck and pulling on her hiking boots. She could feel the heat of the day strongly already, the scent of the fire’s ashes drifting in the morning air through the window--as they had slept Duncan had pushed the blanket off himself so it hovered right above his groin, his body turned to the side, the roundness of his ass just visible above the sheet. Kenzie looked down the incline of his body, the rise of his hip, the fine hair trailing down his abdomen from his belly button, the perfect jut of his sharp jaw, the fullness of his lips, open just a whisper. His stomach was virtually hairless, the tiny hairs on his chest barely visible from where she stood, and one of his arms drifted over the spot where she had been a moment ago, the other under her pillow. Like a painting, she thought again. Adonis in marble. Endymion sleeps, and I, the moon, busy with my task, watch him in longing. She thought of the desire he’d spoken of to her to commission a painting of them together. High Princess and Evening Star, she thought, and shivered despite the heat.

Kenzie made her way downstairs and to the kitchen--and a little later, she had an apple and a handful of blackberries in her hands as she used her elbow to open the sliding door. The smell of the fire pit’s ashes drifted over to her again, and she glanced to the lake. Wish we could stay forever, she thought again, its surface reflected blue from the clouded sky. The ducks were nowhere to be seen and the surface seemed like a sheet of some strange, unbroken alloy. Soft silver. Kenzie made her way down the path to the line of trees at the forest’s edge, stepping through them with a careful, quiet pace. Bill Shepherd is dead, she thought. Duncan is the heir to all of Shepherd Unlimited. Almost 20 billion dollars. I can’t even begin to fathom that much money.

She was at the bridge now; the day was rising, the light deepening, and the sun was beginning to burst over the edge of the world, dappling through the trees with insistent strength. I’ll come no matter what, it seemed to tell her. I’ll shine down on you and the one you love through everything, in every time, every age, every passing storm. As I am constant, so are you. So is every living thing. One day, when you return to Her, you’ll see. It’s never really the end.

The blackberries were wonderfully sweet on her tongue, and Kenzie felt awash in emotion--in the state of being alive at all. I always suspected, believed, that there were beautiful things in the world, things beyond description in their beauty, and she moved to the edge of the black oaks as she approached them, their immense, quiet trunks knowing, ancient, and present. She touched the craggy bark of the one closest to her, her hand stained with a smear of purplish juice, and Kenzie knew, in the deepest depth of her heart, that the Goddess was here; She is in everything. In the sun, the berries I ate, every star that exploded above us, the fire that Duncan made from the energy of his own body, and she made him, with his eyes like the depth of cerulean sky, the delicate mastery of his face, his hair like the softest leaves touched by the chilly winds of an autumn soon to come, and his hands, the epitome of the ecstasy of all human touch to me, the sweet-tempered truth of his heart, the physical proof of his goodness, to me--and when he touches me, I feel all his love flow through him into me, the tips of his fingers each an invocation of his love.

It’s time to write my book. I need to write it down. I need to find the words to describe what it’s like to be loved this way. There are more things we have to do, and she knew that with assurity, and those things have to do with the company, with having these tools now to cause serious change, but me--Goddess, I feel it--I have to write something. That’s what I’m supposed to do, by myself, with all the beautiful things that have happened, and all the beautiful things he’s said to me, the way he’s given his whole soul to me as I’ve given mine to him. I have to find the words. I have to try.

She stepped inside the circle, the flowers in their impossibly intricate spirals as ever (forever), their colors drifting into her hands, petals trailing through her fingers, the softest embrace, and it dawned on her, the way the sun was dawning on the land now, kissing the oaks good morning, the way the world was waking up. I have to do this. I have to make it clear that this love is possible. That not only is it possible, but that it exists in everything, and it will heal everything. That love can heal everything. That it’s the only thing. I have to share this love with the world. It won’t be diminished by the sharing. It never becomes smaller, it can’t. It only grows, and the more I speak of it, the more I take it into myself, the more I have to give to him, the more gold I have to give to everything. To everyone. In its immensity, unending, is the divine. Inside it is the universe.

Kenzie’s thoughts quieted, as if Duncan’s hands had come around her, as if Momby’s had, as if Claire was holding her in a quiet place when she had cried as a young girl. I feel You here. Three-faced. Soft as the summer rain. Quiet as the night wind. Vast as a thousand oceans. Your beauty terrible, like the storm. Your beauty moving beyond every flower, every green growing thing. Your beauty in everything. Your mercy in everything. Your eyes are the stars and they see every tiny thing. Your body, your sex is the plains and the forest, the mountains, the water, the face of the deep. You’ve always been with me--as you’ve always been with him. And now he’s awake to You. Now, he can see You, too. Love has opened his eyes. Oh, Goddess.

And Kenzie gathered flowers in her arms, the sweet alyssum, the goldenrod staining her fingers with yellow, the asters with centers like tiny starbursts, her hair dipping down in a wave of gold in the bursting sunrise. It dried her tears, soothed on her skin, and in that quiet place, hidden from everything in the world but the eyes of Fate, Kenzie wondered at the far-reaching hand of all meaning, at the winding path that had led her here, intricate and unshakable. She thought of The Youth of Bacchus, its revelers, their smooth bare skin, the joy of being alive, and knew the Goddess was in that, inside joy. She thought of Evening Mood, the Goddess there on the sea, and Star of Heaven, where the Goddess was in every bright sphere, of Athena, Dike, and Nike, in Duncan’s penthouse living room, three faces, three aspects, and so She’s been there with him all along, moving him to where I would be. And she thought of Duncan.

I love him.

----------

As Kenzie emerged from the line of the forest, her arms bursting with the wildflowers (and no matter how many I took there never seemed to be less, as if they grew again immediately as I plucked them), she saw Duncan coming towards her from the deck, two coffee cups in his hands. He saw her, and his smile threw crushed petals into her heart. Hi, baby.

They reached each other and he leaned to kiss her, the coffee and his woodsy smell falling down, the richness of the flowers drifting up. He was wearing the feathery shirt she had liked so much when she saw it hanging in his closet--it gave him a soft glow that melted at her heart. My soft Evening Star.

“You look so fucking lovely,” he breathed. “Persephone, marry me.”

She grinned. “I already said yes.”

“I’ll ask you every fucking day, I don’t care.” His eyes, the curving space of his mouth. She cocked her head towards the deck, moving ahead of him, the sun warm on her skin now, in the open air. Tingling in anticipation of his touch. She could feel the weight of him, the height of him coming up behind her as she laid the flowers out on the deck table, then turned to him and grasped one of the coffee cups from his hand.

“Thanks, baby,” she whispered, and leaned to kiss him again. A lock of his hair had fallen over his forehead, as was its way; she reached her fingers up to brush them against it, softly, and watched the way his eyes closed, almost involuntary, at her touch.

“My uncle’s dead. I had a dream this morning about him. He was in a boat on the lake,” here Duncan gestured to the calm water past the gazebo, yards off. ”He started at the shore, and as he drifted out into the water, he turned back to me where I was watching him from the dock. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were--they were different. They were sad, and relieved. To die.” His eyes stayed closed--she could feel the muddled pain, relief, and confusion of his feelings. Kenzie’s hand drifted down his cheek.

“I know, baby. I feel it too. I think--I’m going to give Candice my resignation when we get back. I think--when I was in the circle this time, I felt--that it’s time. For me to write my book. And for us to change things. The way Rosemary said we’re meant to.”

“I think we have to go back today, Kenzie.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be here for longer. We can come back soon--we can bring Claire and Momby. We could go to the beach house again. We can go anywhere you want. But I think right now it’s--it’s time baby, you know?”

Kenzie reached up to hold his cheeks, heart aching.

“Baby, you don’t have to explain. I love you so much,” and she felt her lip trembling, her voice cracking, his expression falling into terrible tenderness as his arms came around her. “The time we had here was so beautiful--so beyond anything I could have imagined--”

And he was silencing her words with a kiss that she knew was another entreating plea; she could feel the warmth of it settling through her senses, the absolute constancy of him as his mouth savored her. Marry me, Miss Stone. Be my wife in this life. As you were long ago. As you’ve been for a thousand years. Oh, fuck. Baby. Angel. High Princess, goddess of my heart. How many times have I held you, and yet it’s never, ever enough. You are heaven in my arms. Marry me, Kenzie. I’ll build a shelter of flowers for you that will never die.

Yes I will yes, she thought, and their thoughts held each other, irrevocably, with a closeness that was almost unbearable to her senses; their souls holding each other, his fierce, beautiful blue lost inside the velvet hold of her gold, locking together with an intricate orchestration, a perfect harmony that was a outpouring of immense light, like a wound of exquisite pain, a colossal melding of time and space, of a moment, extended for them alone--

Yes I will yes my love yes I will my radiant love hold me in the flowering halo of your arms because I will yes I will I love you Duncan I love you like the rain like the stars like the roses that bloomed when I saw your soul for the first time I will so kiss me, kiss me, soul of my soul, body of my body, because yes, I will...

-----------

They’d gone out on the lake for a little while that morning before leaving.

A half hour before, over her coffee and buttery toast with a perfectly sliced grapefruit Duncan had brought her, Kenzie had divided the wildflowers into bunches; one for each of the people we love so much. She knew innately as she touched them, arranging them carefully, that they were not ordinary flowers; their power felt like an electrical current through her fingers. These flowers will be the fortune of the Goddess unto them. And they won’t die for a long time. I know that too. She gathered one bunch, lots of the purple alyssum with goldenrods in the center, especially to display in the penthouse. These will go over our bed among the roses and peonies. It will always remind us of when we found out about our true selves. When our eyes were opened to our destiny.

As she did this, Duncan had been weaving stray, tiny alyssums in pink, purple and white through the golden fall of her hair. He’d brushed it out in the sunlight for her, an achingly tender act that had made her want to cry, though she held the tears away. Hades opens, a blue flower of infinite depth, in the eyes of his Persephone. His thoughts drifted, full of the imagery of them as the Lord of the Underworld, the Goddess of Spring. Kenzie was moved again by how beautiful it was to be inside his mind; the loveliness of his inner world, the exquisite details of his imagination. Inside you I see the universe, Duncan. Inside you is every kind of beauty.

When they went on the lake in the little canoe, the sun dipped behind a cloud. Kenzie stared at Duncan as he rowed them out onto the water, the sinewy strength in his arms, the fall of his hair, the dip of skin below his open collar. Your soul is at peace here, your body relaxed, your mind beautiful with ease. She leaned back, knowing he was admiring her too, smiling at him. The water was drifting in small winds, but the canoe was surprisingly still. Or maybe it’s us, she thought across to him. Maybe we are the stillness. Our love the constant thing.

We are. To love you is to feel the greatness of the eye of the storm, Mackenzie Stone.

They hadn’t spoken in words out on the water, rather Kenzie had let the meandering patterns of her thoughts and feelings fall against him, and she felt his, reaching for his hand, the Cartier bracelet falling down her arm, their fingers twining with delicate, slow curiosity.

I know what to do, baby, he had thought. We’re going to change the production companies. We’re going to build gardens on the rooftops of every building the company owns, and buy land to preserve the forests and natural resources. We’re going to produce solar panels for every building in DC. We’re going to fund projects with the Foundation that will change the hearts of people who have been living in darkness, build protections for those living in need. It’s just the beginning. I have this incredible feeling; like we’re going to be able to do things no one has ever dreamed of. I’m going to go to Claire Underwood again and speak with her, Come with me. Talk to me with her. And I know...this time I can feel it...it’ll be different. She’ll see the sincerity in our hearts. And she’ll feel it too. We’re going to do this, Kenzie. It’s in motion. Oh, goddess. I feel it like a wave. It’s so much. It’s beautiful.

Kenzie had nodded, clutching his hand, looking into his sky-colored eyes, and she had known, too. Annette’s heart has changed--it’s changing--in light of our love, and the death of her brother, which has shaken her deeply. She loves you Duncan, and she, in her way, loves me now, too. She’ll find peace inside letting go of her need for control. And she’ll find family with us--a real family. One of real love. But first you have to go to her, baby. You have to go to her and talk to her, and forgive her.

Duncan looked at her, squinting against the sun peeking out from behind its cloudy bed; there were tears in his eyes, making them glisten like twin sapphires. I know you’re right, angel baby. And I will.

“I think it’s time for us to go back, baby,” he whispered, and Kenzie bit her lip at the resolute longing in his eyes. To have been alone with you this way has been the purest happiness for me. His thoughts were drifting in nostalgia; wishing to turn back the hours to their time under the stars, in the coppery tub last night, or dancing beside the fire, watching her swim in the lake on the dockside, fucking in the big, soft golden bed or in their holy circle of oaks, the way she read to him as he rubbed her feet. To be alone with you is my home.

“We’ll go live in the garden house all summer long next year, baby, for months,” Kenzie whispered, reaching for his other hand. She knelt in the boat’s shallow bottom, slowly, achingly, between his thighs, clutching his fingers tightly. Duncan brought his legs together, wrapping them around her, pulling her against him, his mouth falling against her chin. “We won’t come back until every autumn leaf falls and every flower in our garden dies. We’ll eat the fruits and vegetables we grow and I’ll put a hundred flowers in every room of the house--”

“Every flower reminds me of you, High Princess,” he murmured against her, and Kenzie shivered in the building heat. High Princess. That was me, once. Rosemary said it will be again someday. It’s beyond anything I could ever imagine. But it’s not a dream. I know, I know, I know it’s not a dream. Anymore than you are, beloved. “And even when we die we’ll be born again and find each other again--oh, god, Kenzie, baby--”

“I know, I know--”

It’s almost too beautiful to bear. You are. We are. This love moves beyond time; nothing can destroy us. Nothing can keep us apart. Oh, sweet beloved, dearest love.

His hands fell through her hair, his eyes gazing into her, and his mouth hovered close to her, brushing with unbearable softness at her nose, the slip of skin above her lips, the dip of her chin below--and then, finally, on her mouth, pulling her to crush against him, and his scent was the forest, the earth, the fire, blue, sweet smoke, tie us back together, keep me here against you always, in the hallowed place of your protection, my Evening Star, fairest of all the holy Princes. How my heart must have sung when first I beheld you, and knew you were forever mine.

--------

“I want to put Cupid and Psyche in the garden house when we find it, baby,” Kenzie murmured as she came up behind Duncan, who was loading their suitcases into the the G-Class with a careful heave. They’d gathered everything else into the rear trunk and the backseat. The afternoon was drawing hotly around them--she could see the thin sweat stain along the back of Duncan’s shirt--and Kenzie knew they wouldn’t get to the city until the light had begun to fall; the heat was at its zenith now, and they would drive through it back to DC. “Can we do that? I love it so much. The tiny flowers in Cupid’s hair...like you laying in the flowers in the circle--”

Duncan turned to her, grasping her tightly in his achingly warm hands, catching her lips in his hot, needy kiss--he tasted like some low, lustful fruit, his tongue sweet and demanding. And it makes me want you so fucking bad, he thought. It’s got magick too, magick from us and this place. Kiss me, angel. I beg you to please kiss me and never stop kissing me--but Kenzie was wriggling out of his grip, laughing. Gonna make you beg for it, you know how I can do that, you know how I can make you beg, fairest of all the holy Princes. Her skin was flushed and she shivered at his eyes, the way his body turned to her as she stepped away, his movements full of desperate desire.

Kenzie tried to ignore the look he gave her, the thoughts crashing against her out of his sky-kissed eyes, snatching her breath away (fuck me sweetness fuck me and choke me and put your little fingers in my mouth, press your honeyed clit into my mouth, the nectar of your flushed skin oh god this heat I wanna bend you over and fuck you fuck you fuck you beloved most beautiful of all my golden goddess loveliest in the eyes of heaven and my eyes let me worship you I pray) and pulled her little iPhone in its golden case out of her convertible bag, slung over her shoulder, sliding her round sunglasses over her eyes. Don’t look at me that way, and don’t think at me that way either, baby, behave. Fuck, stop, I can’t stand it. Her body was vibrating with him, the crimson-cerulean tide of his imaginings. Three hours in the car and I’m gonna think about how much I wanna fuck my baby the whole time, and he smiled at her, biting into his lip, bringing his hand up to his jaw to brush it there, distracted in her.

You are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen, but you bow to me, bow to me, bow to me, my sweet soon-to-be-husband, the fairest prince of heaven and you bow to me.

Duncan was stepping toward her again from where she had slipped away, his movements slow and deliberate, his sunglasses hanging lazily from his hand, the Cartier gold on his wrist glinting at her. He dipped his head down to her, hands drifting near her bare shoulders. She could feel him thinking about the rose choker, his eyes on her neck, about the sheer white lingerie, his mouth closed around her breast and the tulle, about the plug glittering in the low bedroom light, the glistening line of drool that had fallen from her mouth...

“I’m scared to turn this back on,” she whispered to him, looking down from him to her phone, blushing furiously, and his smile drifted from desire into wistfulness at that. His hand reached for hers, soft, comforting. “I wish we could just throw them away,” he replied.

Kenzie gripped his long pinky and ring finger in her fist, feeling the blue of him, his thoughts. Me too, angel baby. I don’t want to go back. I wanna run away with you. Back in time, to that place where we were together for eons, in perfect love and happiness. Oh, goddess. I can’t begin to imagine how beautiful it was. He hesitated, hand coming up through his hair--then his words drifted against her in the heat, their sweetness cooling her skin.

“I know, baby. I wish we could just stay here and hide from the world forever. It was so short. I’m sorry for that. I wanted--wanted it to be longer. But it was perfect, wasn’t it? It was like our day at the beach. It’s a perfect memory now.”

“Everything with you is a perfect memory,” Kenzie lifted her chin, keeping her head perfectly still as Duncan brushed her hair from her shoulder, and for a little while they stood there in the graveled drive of the cabin’s entryway, the heat a heavy, silent cocoon; Kenzie thought of Rosemary, arriving in her glorious violet aura, the lake and the stars, the oak circle, the magic in their fingertips. And of Duncan--Sword of the Evening Star, divine too, baby--and tried to fathom the depth of everything they’d experienced since that night, just a few short weeks ago, when she glimpsed him staring at her with a burning fire in his ocean-colored eyes, had let him, infamous, handsome heir to a billion-dollar company, buy her an old fashioned on a rosy balcony. But that was Fate, she knew now. Nothing so beautiful could be luck. Nothing so perfect, so right, could be chance. You were ever mine.

The moment broke apart, fragmented, as a breeze fell over Duncan’s hair and he blinked it away, bringing her out of his eyes, back into the heat. She heard a loon out on the lake somewhere again; a farewell call to them; until we meet again on this other side of time.

“I think it’s time to go,” he said softly. And she knew he was right. Goddess speed us on, help us know what is best, most right. I can feel you with me now. I can feel the halo you gave me so long ago, the one Duncan can see sometimes. I know you’re there now. I can feel You.

She nodded to him. “Let’s go, baby.” Let’s go save the world. Let’s get married, surrounded by a thousand flowers. Let’s go talk to the president and change the company and people’s hearts and scatter this light on everything, a thousand stars tossed over the whole world.

Duncan stepped to the passenger’s side, opening the door for her and grasping her hand tightly for a moment, eyes burning (I know you feel Her too now, that holy sword you once held), helping her inside. He shut the door behind her and Kenzie sat in the silence for a breath as he walked around to the other side; she let the breath out as he got into the driver’s seat, his sunglasses on his nose now, and hit the power button on the side of her phone as he clicked his seatbelt into place, glancing over to her.

“Duncan. I have the weirdest feeling. Rosemary said when we got back the world would be...different.”

“I feel it too, Kenz. Like an earthquake in the air.” Duncan hit the smart key and the G-Class roared into smooth life, the air conditioner blasting immediately into Kenzie’s face, cooling her hot cheeks. He reversed the SUV as she squinted in apprehension down at her phone screen--the apple logo flashed there for a long moment--then her lock screen came up, Duncan’s face in the silver circlet from the Esquire shoot turned up to her. She hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the home button; then she looked up, flipping the knob on the stereo as Duncan accelerated the car on the long gravel driveway towards Lakeside Trail. She flipped through the Sirius XM channels for a moment, then stopped at one called Venus as she heard a soothing electronic melody bleeding into a rhythmic beat and an elegant feminine voice singing out eagerly--

Sitting on the counter in your kitchen, can you hear my heartbeat, fuckin’ kickin’, your eyes light up cuz you best believe that I got somethin’ up my sleeve, I walk my talk no time for wishful thinkin’

Sounds familiar, Kenzie thought, glancing to Duncan; he looked back at her, his long hands drifting easily on the steering wheel, and though she couldn’t see his eyes clearly from behind his dark Yves sunglasses, she saw the heady loveliness of his smile and could feel his agreement. Remember that? Let’s do that again, baby love. Let’s fuck on the counter again, divine angel.

Kenzie grinned, bringing her hand up to cover her teeth, biting into her palm. Fuck. We should. Why don’t you lean me over that smooth, achingly black obsidian at home and fuck me senseless, Evening Star. We haven’t done that yet. She could smell the dozens of bunches of wildflowers in the backseat cascading forward, the one bunch of roses tucked in among them; the roses had already begun to fade, but Kenzie knew they’d hang with the others over their bed. Our altar. Where we worship each other endlessly.

And when you start to feel the rush, a crimson headache, aching blush, and you surrender to the touch you’ll know, I can put on a show, I can put on a show--

She giggled to hear his groan; his hand drifted over to her thigh, riding up the tiny white dress as she went back to her phone, her heart aching between her breasts, the space between her legs tingling. She raised her phone to her eyes again--

Don’t you see what you’re finding, this is heaven in hiding

--but now Kenzie saw, heart leaping into her mouth, the long line of text messages that had popped up on the lock screen. Oh, fuck. We must have been out of range for a minute. She thumbed her password in (her birthday, 0717), whispering under her breath. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Kenz, what’s wrong?”

“Just--a shitload of texts. Claire. And Momby. And Candice. Annette. Fuck.”

Duncan let out a little groan. “I’m about to just throw my phone out the window and not bother, Kenz.”

Kenzie opened a string of texts from Clairebear. The first was from two nights ago, when Kenzie had texted her before the Gala. The music pounded in her ears as she read it. Oh this is heaven in hiding, this is heaven in hiding, ‘cause I’m heaven in hiding

Clairebear: Kenzie Lou, you both look so GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL, I’m fucking crying. I just saw the photo you took now because alkgdlghflgdlsg Harris stayed over last night. OH MY GOD KENZIE OH MY GODDDDD

Kenzie grinned at this. “Well, some good news,” she said to Duncan, who glanced at her, raising his eyebrows as they drifted onto the highway, the lake, dappled in the sun, disappearing past Kenzie’s window. “Claire and Harris are officially a Thing.”

“Fuck,” he laughed a little, “that is good news. I love that.”

Kenzie looked back down at her phone. There were several texts after, each with a sort of increasingly manic energy.

Clairebear: God he’s so hot and so tall and so gentle? I guess you probably don’t want too many of the gory details about your bodyguard but HE IS TALL I WILL SAY THAT AGAIN (Kenzie snorted into her hand) and we went to this lovely jazz place and god I love his smile??? Anyway, we’re gonna go out again this coming weekend but that seems so far away, fuck! UGHHHH KENZIEEEEEE

The next one came from a few hours later.

Clairebear: Okay I know you said y’all are kinda going off the grid for a few days so I don’t know when you’ll see this but people are freaking the FUCK out over your Gala photo on Instagram, you have 2.4 million likes??? I checked the number like ten times because that just seemed like a typo to me. But no, you have 2.4 million likes.

An hour later.

Clairebear: Gala press photographer photos went up a few hours ago and you two are on the front page of like literally every fashion website including Vogue.com holy FUCK!!!

Claire had included a link. Kenzie clicked it. The headline read: DUNCAN SHEPHERD AND PARAMOUR MACKENZIE STONE STUN IN DRAMATIC MORGAN WINTHROP GOLD COUTURE FOR SHEPHERD FOUNDATION GALA IN FIRST PUBLIC EVENT TOGETHER.

Below it was a photo that stole the breath from Kenzie’s lungs: she and Duncan were gazing at each other in it, away from the camera, his head dipped down to her, her chin angled up to him, and the radiant happiness that emanated from both of them in it instantly brought tears to Kenzie’s eyes. Kenzie’s hair fell from her shoulders in a cascade of roses and gold (like a fairy tale, fuck me, Hannah really made it look incredible); her dress shimmered with soft, opulent beauty, perfectly tailored to her small frame, the gold Cartier necklace glinting at her throat. Her expression was soft, joyful, dazed. I look...I look really fucking lovely. That’s me, fuck. That’s me. I look beautiful. Duncan was strikingly tall next to her, his soft curls falling on his forehead, his eyes dark with dramatic shadow, the masculine beauty of his profile clearly outlined. His elegant hands were dipped down to her waist, holding her with tenderness so obvious it made Kenzie feel faint to look at it. The soft painted gold of his blazer was beautifully illuminated. The expression on his face, in his intoxicating eyes, the overjoyed smile playing at his mouth, dug a sharp knife into her heart, through the softest part of her soul; anyone who looked at this would know immediately how much he loves me. Oh my fucking goddess. He looks at ME this way. Only at me. Like I’m the sun. The moon. And every star. The Cartier bracelets on their wrists were visible; she could clearly see the diamonds on hers, same as the bracelet she wore now, scattering a line of stars along her skin there. Everyone who looks at this will notice them too. They’re very distinct, aren’t they; you can tell they’re two parts of one idea--one promise. Me and you, baby.

“Baby, oh my god,” she breathed. “You have to look.”

Duncan jerked the steering wheel smoothly to the right, bringing the G-Class onto the shoulder of the highway, several cars passing them. It drifted to a stop as she leaned over to him, holding her phone up. Duncan slipped his sunglasses down his nose, gazing at it; then he gently pulled her phone out of her hand, his eyes widening. The moment extended--Duncan continued to look at it raptly, his expression going soft and slack in a way that made the tiny hairs on Kenzie’s arms stand up. Then he turned to her, sliding his glasses all the way off now, clutching them in his hand.

“Oh Kenz,” he whispered. “Baby.”

You can see it in this. Us. Our High Destiny.

Kenzie bit into her lip; don’t cry, Kenzie. Don’t cry. Not now. But oh, fuck. Fuck, I love you so much, Duncan. My Evening Star. Your beautiful soul here, so obvious, so brilliant, so sincere, all your gentleness that you’ve hidden for so long, bursting out of you like a thousand colors. I could just die. She reached for him; he pulled her over the center between their seats, crushing her into his arms, his nose and mouth falling into the small space of her neck, her hands clutching together in the warm nook of his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath shaking on her, his words shivering inside the emotion. “Kenzie. I love you.” There was nothing else he could say--she could feel the tangle of him, the overwhelming wave that rose inside him, fell against her; she gasped at it, its immensity, its warmth, its weight.

To be loved by you is to behold the multitude, and yet to be unafraid of it.

“And I love you,” she whispered against him, and then she gently pushed away from him, bringing her hand up to his cheek to cup it, nodding at him soothingly; his eyes were liquid around a blue ring of fire, and their burning shook her soul and scattered it apart. “I will always love you, Duncan Shepherd. You are the home of my heart. Let’s keep going, baby. We have so much to do now. So much to do. And you need to comfort your mother.”

Duncan took a shuddering breath, clutching onto her hand with a grip that seemed to drain all the blood from her fingers; then he softened his hold on her and slipped the sunglasses back over his eyes, gently sliding her phone back into her palm with reverent hands. Kenzie turned back to it, sending a soothing golden burst over him, as though she were scattering dust against him. Duncan gently pressed the gas pedal, and the G-Class glided back to the road.

Kenzie scrolled down through the article; there were a dozen other photos of them, each one seemingly more lovely than the last; one of them laughing together that made Kenzie grin widely and reach for Duncan’s hand--he gripped her fingers strongly again, his sunglasses shielding the moisture she knew lingered around his eyes. In another Kenzie’s head was turned to the side, probably at a photographer’s behest; Duncan stared at her with adoring awe. In yet another Duncan stared out, forwards, at the camera--and in this one, I’m the one who’s starry-eyed. She looked at herself, her own expression of exquisite adoration. So what. It’s true. I love him...so fucking much. As though it simply can’t be contained inside me--as if it’s everything and everywhere and touches everyone. I’d die for him. My dark blue Evening Star. My Hades, Prince of sweet shadows that I would drown inside of if he willed it. My sweet Endymion, flawless in sleep. My Eros whispering his flowery worship in my ear. The blood of my body, breath in my lungs. She saved several, immediately making the one of them gazing at each other her lock screen--when you’re away I’ll look at this picture and know you are mine for all time, and she tried not to gasp again inside the emotion of it.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Duncan was whispering, his fingers drifting on her hand, eyes on the road. She knew he could feel her, the wild emotion bubbling in her.

“Yes,” she whispered. “More than okay.” She opened the Instagram app, fingers shaking, blowing a breath out in a steady stream. @kenzielouwho. 15 million followers.

No fucking way. No no no fucking way.

“Dunny.”

“Yes, Kenzie.”

“I have 15 million followers on Instagram now...how is that even possible?”

“What.” Duncan jerked the steering wheel in shock, then slid it back quickly to straighten the G-Class. “Fuck.”

“People must--they can feel it. Oh god, Rosemary wasn’t kidding. Remember she said--she said the world would have changed when we got back. I think this is what she meant. That some people would be able to see it; see what’s been hiding inside us. The divinity of us and--who we used to be. In a small way, I think some people can see it now. Those pictures. Her telling us. It’s like it stirred up something in the air.”

“I can fucking see it in those pictures. And it’s me. That’s us.” Another song playing low on the radio now echoed the thoughts whirling in Kenzie’s mind, uncanny, thrilling around her nerves, making her scalp tingle

But do you feel like a young god, you know the two of us are just young gods, and we’ll be flying through the streets with the people underneath and they’ll be running, running, running

That’s it. I’m going to post one. If it can help us with what we need to do--and I feel like it will--I’ll post some photos from the Gala. Kenzie added three of the photos she’d saved from Vogue (the two of them staring at each other, Duncan staring at her while she looked to the side, and her gazing at him with the adoring expression) and added a caption.

It was such a magical night to be with the person I love the most in the universe in @morganwinthrop’s extraordinarily beautiful creations. @duncanshepherd and I have some major announcements coming soon. A special thank you to DUCKENZIEFANS.com and the warmth and love you’ve shown us. With all of you helping us, we will change the world in no time.

Kenzie took a deep breath and hit Share. Then she went to Duncan’s profile. Claire hadn’t been kidding; “the photo you posted of us on the night of the Gala has...over 5 million likes, Duncan. And your profile has 18 million followers.”

“This is insane.” Kenzie noted the worried expression that had creased his face under his glasses now.

“Duncan, we have to just...trust. Trust that this is what is meant to happen. This is all part of it. I--I feel it.”

“We’re going to need a bigger entourage. God, I’ve tried to avoid that for so long. But now that Bill’s dead, there won’t be as much of a buffer between us and the paps. I don’t think Harris is going to be enough.”

Kenzie leaned her elbow on the window’s edge, staring out on the highway.

“Okay. If that’s what we have to do, that’s what we have to do. I’m not going to hide in the penthouse, that’s for sure. People want to see us--if that’s what the Goddess means for us to do, I’m ready.” Kenzie looked back at her phone, feeling a bubbling anxiety from Duncan now. There were more texts from Claire, bleeding into yesterday and then this morning.

Clairebear: Kenzie, this is INSANE.

Seven links followed her text; each one a different piece about their Gala looks from major online fashion and news publications. The articles had a wildly adoring edge to them that made Kenzie’s stomach churn with knots. People can SEE us. It’s sort of frightening--to have this sort of power over other people. I feel so strange. Every article seemed to note the “mysterious” way they disappeared from the event after the photos were taken.

From GQ she read: “Duckenzie whisked through the press area as though they were the ethereal incarnations of a fae king and queen--Oberon and Titania come to strike into the hearts of us poor mortals with gnawing desire--then seemed to disappear into the night, their absence noted almost as quickly as their presence. They did not appear to bless the mortals of earth again at the after party, to our deep dismay. Like Hades and Persephone descending back into the Underworld at the breaking of autumn, it was as though a chill fell on the evening without them, the full moon doubtless gazing down on them in some secluded, secret place of infinite romance the world could not penetrate. Needless to say, to see them again on any red carpet will be a blessing, wherever and whenever it happens. For now, we bask in the beauty of the shots the press pool managed to snatch, like precious raindrops from heaven; good god, wish someone would look at US like that.”

From yesterday, Clairebear: Kenzie, media people are FREAKING OUT wondering where y’all have gone. It’s like you blew some kind of insanity dust on everyone at the Gala and now everyone is HUNGRY for you two. Hope everything’s going okay off the grid, but I’m worried about you, so text me back when you can.

Two hours later, Clairebear: Holy fuck, Kenzie. Bill Shepherd died. Are you two aware? Call me when you can.

Later that day: Clairebear: Vanity Fair just dropped their editorial about you and Duncan and Annette on their website like two weeks in advance of their original publishing date. People are losing their minds over these photos.

This text included a link to the article; as Kenzie opened it, she was shocked--at the top, rather than the photo of them with Annette, was one of the photos of her and Duncan Anna had taken of them by the bourbon roses. Fuck. Kenzie’s head lay gently against Duncan’s tall form, his arms enveloping her in the lacy red dress, her lips dark, eyes liquid and huge. Kenzie couldn’t tell if it was some filter on the photo, but Duncan’s eyes were wildly, beautifully blue, illuminated, and hers seemed lit from within with some kind of lingering golden-green. Both of them stared into the camera, defiant. The photo was a shock of beauty, their tenderness in it like a painting or some heavenly sculpture, but too real, too lovely and earnest; like the Gala photos, you can see all our love in this--you can see our strangeness, too, the other, hidden part of us. It’s mesmerizing. Kenzie saved the photo. This is the one. We should hang this one in the penthouse. It makes my heart ache. It’s us. It’s our Destiny, as though it’s written on our faces here.

And the title of the piece: THE YOUNG ROYALS: Duncan Shepherd and Mackenzie Stone take Shepherd Unlimited to Heavenly New Heights.

“They put the Vanity Fair article up already, Dunny. Two weeks early, I guess, after the news that your uncle passed away yesterday. The Young Royals, they called it.”

Duncan laughed, surprising her. “What? Really? The Young Royals?”

Kenzie nodded. “The photo at the top is one of the two of us, too. Not the one with Annette.”

“Holy shit,” he murmured, glancing over at her. They see it too. Everyone can see it. It’s like a veil was pulled back. “She’s gonna be pissed about that.”

“Something tells me that’s not really going to matter very much from the way the press and everyone online seem to be reacting,” Kenzie said, leaning a hand over to his thigh. He glanced at her again, his smile deep, his affection strongly brushing against her. Keep your hand there, my love.

Baby, I gotta check these messages. There are a LOT.

Who cares. Touch me. I love you.

I will soon, baby. I will. Just be patient.

Kenzie turned back to her phone, sliding her hand away from him reluctantly. One more from Claire, sent this morning.

Clairebear: Fuck, Kenzie, PLEASE text or call me when you get a chance. I think you need to hire a PR person--I’ve started to get incessant calls and emails from people who want to interview me about you, it’s so surreal. Please please please send me a message when you get a chance to let me know you’re okay. All the stuff online is making me so fucking nervous for you. When are you coming back?

Kenzie typed now. Clairebear, we’re on our way back from the lake right now. I had my phone off the past two days, but an unexpected visitor told us about Bill Shepherd. I love you so much. I can’t tell you how happy the news about you and Harris is to me!!! I’ll try to call you later on.

She moved on to the texts from Momby. There were two; one from yesterday, one from today.

Mom: I’m aware you told me there was a chance you’d be unreachable for a few days; so of course that’s when Bill Shepherd decided to kick the bucket. Please give Duncan my condolences and pass along my love to him. But I can’t say I’m particularly sorry to see Bill Shepherd in the ground, and I doubt Duncan is either. I know this is a strange request, but if you can get Annette to come along to my place when we have taco/margarita night when the two of you get back, I would like that very much.

And the one from yesterday.

Mom: Sweet Kenzie Lou, please call me when you see this. The media frenzy happening right now over the two of you is, frankly, alarmingly far beyond anything even I could have imagined, and I can imagine A LOT. I’m concerned about your personal safety. I don’t think you should be going to One Franklin Square anymore without a more extensive security detail.

Kenzie immediately hit the call button in her mother’s contact, turning on the speakerphone so Duncan could hear, turning the stereo down so the music was very low. The phone rang three times; in the middle of the third, Madeline picked up.

“Mackenzie?”

“Hey, Momby. We just saw your messages. My phone’s been off since we left the Gala. Duncan’s here.”

Duncan turned his face toward Kenzie’s iPhone. “Hey, Madeline.”

“Mackenzie Louise, you picked a hell of a time to keep your phone shut off for two days. Ever since they released those photos from the Gala it’s like everyone’s lost their minds. I can see why everyone loves them so much--you look so beautiful in them, both of you, they almost don’t seem real--it’s--odd…” Madeline trailed off, suddenly at a loss for words, it seemed.

“Momby, I’m really sorry you were worried. We really needed some time to ourselves. But we’re on our way back now and--”

“Momby.”

Kenzie’s heart flew into her mouth as Duncan broke in, her beloved nickname for her mother falling from his tongue. The instant sweetness of it made her stomach drop.

“Duncan.” Madeline’s voice was suddenly breathless. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, Momby. It’s me. We want to tell you something. I asked Kenzie to marry me.”

The other end of the phone was silent for a long moment--Kenzie could almost see the shape of her mother’s surprise, the warm flood of her wordless sentiment in the air, despite the distance between them. We’re a long way from you scolding me in the kitchen over the spaghetti pot, aren’t we, Momby. You can see it too. How lovely he is--what was hidden is now on the surface. His gentleness, his sweetness, his goodness, all coming out now, extending out of him like a tidal wave. Momby, I know--isn’t it beautiful? Isn’t he?

Then Madeline finally spoke. “Well? And?”

“I said yes, Momby. Of course I said yes.” Kenzie’s voice tinged with tears, but she was laughing, too. Duncan reached his hand for her, pressing his long fingers into her cheek, hungry for the warmth of her; she could feel it in his touch. His smile was too much; the tears drifted from her eyes. Duncan brought his thumb up to brush them away, his eyes skirting back and forth from the road.

“Well of course you fucking did. Or he wouldn’t be calling me Momby, would he.”

“...Can I call you that, Madeline?”

“Baby, Duncan, you already did. I am your Momby, so why wouldn’t you?”

Duncan fell silent at that; his glasses were still shielding his eyes, but Kenzie felt them burning on her; could feel the tears in them.

“We love you, Momby,” she said quietly.

“As I love both of you. With all of my heart. To the moon and back.”

For a moment, Kenzie contemplated trying to describe any of what Rosemary had told them to her mother; she looked at Duncan, who glanced at her a few times, back and forth from the road. She felt him in her mind; I don’t know, baby. We could try. I wouldn’t even know where to start.

I don’t think so, baby, she thought her reply into him, shimmering and golden. I think maybe it was only for us to know for now. I think maybe it’s a secret we’ll have to keep between us for awhile--maybe for a long time.

I think maybe you’re right, my beautiful Kenzie. I feel like I wouldn’t have words for it anyway. I feel like it’s unspeakable now that Rosemary isn’t here. For now it’s only for us; just me and you. That old life we had in that perfect place. And the one we’ll have again someday, far, far away, in another life.

“So what’s all this about the media and a security detail?” Kenzie spoke in an even voice into her phone again, despite the remnants of tears still on her face. She didn’t want Momby to worry more than she already had.

“I don’t know if either of you have had a chance to look at the internet after your sabbatical, but it seems like all anyone has talked about for two days on every major social media platform is the two of you. First with the Gala photos, and now the ones from Vanity Fair--which are just as beautiful. Something about them really is very uncanny...almost...otherworldly. I’m finding it difficult to describe how they make me feel. You’re my own daughter, Kenzie Lou, and yet I’m really struck by them, too. I guess it’s everything the two of you have been through lately...maybe...but you can really see how much you love each other in them. Even Annette should be able to see it. I can’t imagine not seeing...whatever it is. How bright you both are.”

“Oh, Momby.”

“I agree about a more serious security detail, Momby,” Duncan said, cocking his head towards Kenzie’s phone without looking away from the road. “I’ll be contacting the service later today and requesting additional bodyguards for Kenzie.”

“More bodyguards?” Kenzie balked.

Duncan winced at her a little. “And I think it’s time--I think I’m going to have to finally get one too. Probably more than one.”

“He’s right, Kenzie Lou. May I remind you, you’re going to be a permanent billionaire now.”

Kenzie ignored the last part, her stomach flipping again. “Well--I mean, I did see some of the media stuff. Claire sent me some. Vogue and GQ and a few others.” Kenzie felt too hot, clammy sweat suddenly on her skin. I may be some cosmic space princess, and I know that’s true, but right now I feel horribly human again.

“Kenzie, it’s every major online entertainment publication, and the front page of every paper on the east coast this morning, alongside the news of Bill’s passing. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about those photos of you two. They really--resonated. As far as the public is concerned, you’re the new American royal couple right now. Think Prince William and Kate, but your palace is the penthouse. You know that website, DUCKENZIEFANS.com? They hit a million subscribers yesterday.”

What.

“Madeline, can we do margarita night tomorrow?” Duncan was trying to veer the subject away from the media, Kenzie could feel it. He was on I-70 now; they were halfway home. Wow, we’re making good time. “Oh, also, Claire and Harris, Kenzie’s bodyguard, are officially an item. Can we invite him? I’m so curious to see them together.”

“No kidding,” and Kenzie could hear her mother’s delighted laughter now through the phone. “That’s fucking wonderful. Since I haven’t met him yet, that’s the perfect opportunity. Tomorrow is great. Be careful when you get back. All of DC has been keeping its eyes peeled for you two.”

“We will, Madeline. When we see you I want to talk about our plan moving forward with the company; especially about the new board, which is going to be comprised of all women--women you and Kenzie decide on. I’ll make sure Annette is there. It’s long past time to bury the hatchet between you two, I agree entirely.”

“Guess you knew my thoughts there without me having to say them,” Madeline joked.

He knows mine, Momby, Kenzie thought. He really does know mine. Someday I’ll tell you all about it.

“See you tomorrow night, my moon babies. Be safe. I love you both so very, very much.”

And with that, Madeline hung up before they could reply to her. Kenzie knew, innately, that her mother had felt a sudden urge to cry--and wanted to be alone to do it. Oh, Momby. Kenzie sighed, deeply. Her mind was racing, and yet there was an underlying calm in her that she knew she hadn’t had prior to the past few days.

“I feel like a door inside me’s been opened, Duncan,” she said, softly, going back into her text messages. “Like it’s letting in all this calm strength, and pushing out all the fear I felt before. You know?”

“I know, baby. I know. I feel the same way. Did you get any other messages?”

“One from Candice. She says Ben wants to publish the article he wrote about you now that Bill’s passed, and he’s waiting on your permission. That doesn’t surprise me. He was so anxious to interview you in the first place.”

“Tell her I said yes.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Kenzie. Yes. It’s time. I know you feel it. It’s like everything’s--fuck, I dunno--on a conveyor belt now. Everything’s pushing us forward. I feel like we’re making impossibly good time getting back, even. It seems like we’ve only been driving for an hour or so, but we only have twenty minutes to go to be back in DC, according to the GPS.”

“Really?” Kenzie squinted at it. “Maybe it’s broken.”

“I don’t think so, Kenz. I think it’s--you know. Us. Her. Magick.”

“I think maybe, eventually, we’ll be able to tell a few people about it. Claire. Momby. About our powers, I mean. The people we’re close to. The people we love.”

“I think so, too,” Duncan said quietly.

“But it’s not time yet.”

“I think so. Not yet.”

The calmness I feel from you right now, Kenzie thought, her breath shuddering in her throat, is so beautiful. It’s making me want cry. It feels like you’re holding me.

I am, Kenzie. I’m always holding you. In my mind. In my senses. In my soul. Always. His fingers reached for her again, settling warm and reassuring, on her thigh.

“I love your hands so much,” Kenzie murmured, threading her fingers into his. “I have since the first moment I saw them. I knew I’d love the way you touched me. And I do. I do so much. I love you so much.”

She heard the emotion in his throat as he breathed in, the tears from Madeline’s photo call still evident. “I love you, too. Can you get my phone out of my pocket, Kenz? I think I need to call Annette.” He nodded at the front pocket of the black chinos he was wearing. Kenzie reached her hand into it; Duncan shifted a little to ease the phone out. She brought it into her lap, loving its large, smooth feel in her hand; I love it because it’s yours. She hit the side power button--as the apple logo flashed, she looked at her own phone one more time, at the last unread text on her phone, from Annette.

Annette: Mackenzie, it’s Annette. Can you please ask Duncan to call me when he can? His uncle has passed away. I know he’s very upset with me, but we need to discuss the transfer of the majority share to his name. Bill signed his official Will before he died. Duncan is now the primary owner of Shepherd Unlimited LLC. I love you both. I wish I could have spoken to you at the Gala. You both looked so lovely. The photos of you together moved me very deeply. Please contact me. I’m so deeply sorry.

I love you both. Kenzie read the line again and again. I love you both. I’m so deeply sorry. Rosemary’s words resounded against it in her mind. The world will have changed, will have changed, changed.

And Rosemary meant this too, she knew. Annette’s heart has changed, too.

Duncan’s phone had restarted now; Kenzie made a little involuntary sound of affection in the back of her throat when she saw his lock screen. It was the picture he’d taken of her in the Led Zeppelin shirt, her hair damp, eyes gazing down in serene affection to her sedum morganianum. The first picture he posted of me on his Instagram, she thought. Only a few short weeks ago, but it feels like it’s been ages. Because it has. For us, it’s been forever and always.

“Nice background, baby,” she grinned at him.

“I think so,” and his smile was so sweet and beautiful her heart clenched again. “It’s my favorite picture of you. My baby and her plant baby.” He echoed the caption he’d written for it.

“Annette texted me, too. She said--she said she loves both of us. That she’s...deeply sorry.”

Duncan was quiet for a long moment, eyes forward. Then he spoke, his voice achingly soft.

“Can you call her for me now, please, Kenz? Put her on speakerphone?”

Kenzie typed his birthday into the phone: 0706. They’re soon, she thought. Coming so soon. I can’t wait to share my birthday with you, Dunny. I wonder what I could possibly get for you that you would love. What do I get for the man who has literally everything.

Anything you ever give me I will cherish endlessly, Mackenzie Stone. She knew he’d heard her from his answer, azure-tinged, whirling, warm. Because it’s from you.Your Hades cherishes every tiny flower from his sweet Persephone’s hair, for nothing grew in the Underworld until she arrived.

Kenzie found Annette in his contacts, hitting the call button, then the speakerphone, holding the phone up between them, her heart tight in her chest. The phone rang once--in the middle of the second ring, a breathless voice came through.

“Duncan.”

Kenzie’s eyes lifted to Duncan’s face; she watched him bite harshly into his lip at the sound of Annette’s voice. He lifted a hand to slide his sunglasses off; his fingers shaking.

“Hi, mom.”

There was a trembling silence that hung in the air, stretching out into bleeding, invisible colors of emotion. Like us, it has a color. It’s the blue of him, his resentment, his sadness, his forgiveness, his love for the only mother he’s ever known. It’s me, and my forgiveness, my love for both of them, the depth of my concern for him. And there’s a dark red, like raspberries on a bushel, like the blush of a stormy sunset. It’s Annette. Her remorse. Her spirit, forever changed by something. By Bill’s death. And by us.

“I’m here too, Annette,” Kenzie said, quietly.

“Hi, Mackenzie. Are you--are both of you alright? I was...I was so worried.”

“We’re fine,” Kenzie answered. “We’re heading back to the city. We were at the cabin for a few days. The one on Deep Creek Lake.”

“Oh. I--I’m so--it’s lovely, isn’t it? The lake there.”

“It really is. It was beautiful. It was perfect.”

The silence stretched again.

“Duncan...I--I’m…” Annette’s voice hitched. There were tears on Duncan’s cheeks now, and Kenzie’s heart felt shattered by his sadness. They were already turning from US-29 N towards Wisconsin Avenue. How are we back in DC already, Kenzie marveled. That should be impossible, we’ve been driving for an hour at most.

“I love you so much, Duncan.” Kenzie’s heart hammered and clenched to hear Annette’s tears. Annette Shepherd, crying. That steely exterior melting. Who could have imagined.

“Mom.” Duncan’s voice was shuddering. Kenzie reached for his hands, her own eyes full of tears now, too. He clutched her fingers, desperately. “I forgive you. For not telling me.”

“Oh, Duncan. Your uncle. He--”

“I know, Mom. I know he’s gone.”

“It’s yours, Duncan. Everything is yours. Shepherd Unlimited belongs to you now. I want you to know--that you are--always, always, and forever--my son.”

Kenzie could see Duncan was crying freely now, his eyes bright as sapphires on the bottom of dappled water, and his tears bled into his voice. “Mom. Can we come see you right now? We just got back in the city and--I want to see you.”

“Oh, Duncan. Yes. Yes, please. I’m at the house.”

“We’ll be there soon.”

“I love you, Duncan. Mackenzie. I love you too.” Annette hung up, and Kenzie lowered Duncan’s phone into her lap, her hand tight on his knee. Duncan stared ahead, tears still dripping into the crook of his neck, along the collar of his feathery shirt. His thoughts were jumbled beyond her ability to conceive, but his pain was deep. Kenzie focused on the feeling of the swirling weight of her gold against him, her fingertips against the weight of his body. The sunny day had bled into a cloudy one as they had drifted back into the capital--storm clouds seemed to be gathering overhead, their faces darkly staring down on the G-Class as it turned towards Annette’s mansion. Storms in our hearts, but soon they’ll clear, I know they will. I can feel Her in everything now. She’s guiding us through everything. She’s going to help us build the world we’re dreaming of.

They turned to the gate, which opened for them almost immediately; Annette waiting anxiously for her son, Kenzie thought. Duncan pulled up to the front walk; the driveway was quiet today, and the air was still as Kenzie gathered one of the bunches of wildflowers from the backseat; this one had some of the wild fuschias in the center, surrounded by pink and white alyssum. The darkness of the fuschias reminded her of the color of Annette in her thoughts--she looked up, the flowers gathered in her arms, to Duncan as he came up beside her, fingers falling through the tiny flowers he’d woven into her hair. Kenzie still wore her hiking boots and the little white dress--guess it doesn’t matter what I wear around Annette now, does it, she thought, smiling up at him. She gathered a wave of golden hair in her fingers, lifting it up to his cheek, using it to brush his tears away.

No, baby, he thought, his smile grateful, tender. It really doesn’t. And you look so beautiful right now I can’t stand it, High Princess.

She grasped his hand and pulled him to the big double doors. “I can’t believe the Gala was only a few nights ago,” she murmured. “It’s like it never happened.”

Duncan didn’t reply in words--but his thoughts drifted to her. That night feels like a dream. But we have those photos of us, don’t we. Those photos of me and you, radiant with the beauty of our love. Everyone has seen them; everyone has seen the greatness of it.

Kenzie grasped the gold knob of the door and it opened--as she pulled Duncan inside she immediately noticed the hunched figure on the staircase in the quiet, head turned down to earth, hands buried in long, sleekly styled chocolatey hair. Annette. Her head came up immediately at the sound--and Kenzie’s heart was crushed by the drawn state of her beautifully delicate features, teary mascara streaked on her cheeks lined with tiredness and grief.

“Mom,” Duncan whispered again, and let go of Kenzie, rushing to the stairs, kneeling--wrapping his arms fiercely around her. Annette clutched him, and a sob erupted from her that tore into Kenzie like a ripping gust of wind. Kenzie came beside them and sat, holding the flowers quietly. The three of them stayed that way for awhile--Kenzie could hear Annette’s low crying breaths, the tick of an ornate grandfather clock the only other sound. Kenzie remembered sitting here on the steps a few nights ago--the stale breath and hateful stare of Bill Shepherd in her face as he clutched at her arm, hissing his malice to her. And now he’s dead. And I forgive him, too.

Annette reached her hand out from Duncan’s arms and clutched Kenzie’s fingers.

“Mackenzie,” she breathed, the hiccup of her breath hitching her words. “I’m s-sorry. I’m so-s-so sorry. For all my cold-coldness. I saw those beautiful photos--saw--I s-saw--”

“Annette, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” Kenzie spoke very quietly, soothingly. “Everything’s forgiven. We love you.”

Duncan let go of his mother; Kenzie passed her the flowers, and Annette’s face was lit with a gentleness Kenzie had never seen there before.

“These are beautiful.” Annette’s fingers brushed out along the tiny alyssum; fell to the ones in Kenzie’s hair, knowingly. Your son threaded these through my hair, Annette. Your gentle, beautiful son. I know you feel that. I know you can see the difference in him. It’s not a change--it’s who he always was.

“We found this spot in the forest behind the lake house; a circle of oaks. Inside it, flowers grew in a beautiful pattern. We brought some back with us--for everyone we love.”

The three of them sat together there in the quiet on the ornate steps--Annette clutched the flowers to her breast, breathing in their richness, her shuddering tears slowly calming. Duncan stared at Kenzie, the affection in him making her feel faint. Annette, do you see? Do you see your son and how radiantly lovely he is? How he’s become the lovely soul in aspect that he always had within? It moves my soul, kindles every sense of my body to him. I love him more than anything on this earth.

“Mom,” Duncan said after a long while. “Can you tell me about my birth mother? I just--I would like to know about her. Please.”

Annette’s breath came out in a shudder once more, then she seemed to gather herself as the flowers were gathered against her. Kenzie reached out to Duncan, grasping his knee. He brought his large hand over hers, holding her tightly.

“She was so lovely. Long, wavy hair, the same color as yours. Dark green eyes. A kind, beautiful face. I only knew her in a passing sense...I met her by chance. I would often see her when I was at grad school--she worked at a diner on campus and cleaned houses. She got pregnant by accident, by a much younger man, one who was very erratic and unwell. She was going to terminate the pregnancy, but I--Duncan, I always wanted children, I just--”

“You couldn’t have any.”

“Yes. I knew it was the only way. Her name was Valerie. Valerie Lawford. I was told that she died a few years ago--I--I’m so sorry, Duncan. I wanted to tell you for a long time, but, when she died, I thought, maybe, that I should let the truth be buried with her. I was wrong about that.”

She breathed out, the whistle of her tears in Kenzie’s ears; then continued.

“From the second I saw you, Duncan...your beautiful, little, scrunched-up face--I just knew. It was instant. We just belonged. We belonged--we did.” She fell against Duncan again, the flowers crushing between them, their rich scent falling into Kenzie’s nose.

The way I knew when I saw him, too, Annette. I knew, too. I knew we belonged. That he was always going to be the place where my heart belonged. How could you not love him. I know. His beautiful soul, so obvious, so bright. How could you not love him the moment you saw him.

“Mom.” Duncan spoke against his mother’s hair. “Kenzie and I are engaged. I want you to know that. We’re going to get married.”

Annette pulled away from Duncan, looking at him, not speaking; and then turned to Kenzie. Her eyes were liquid, their dark brown depth full of a sincerity Kenzie had not felt from them before.

“Can I--Kenzie. Can I hold you?”

Kenzie gasped a little at that--and then her hand was slipping out of Duncan’s so she could wrap her arms around his mother, tightly. Annette was warm and soft, and her hair smelled like warm amber; rich and somehow immediately nostalgic. I will always think of you this way now, Annette, Kenzie thought, looking into Duncan’s eyes over his mother’s shoulder. So softly vulnerable, in need of love, and at last, finally, allowing yourself to be comforted. Finally, allowing me to love you.

-------

They’d asked Annette to come to Madeline’s with them tomorrow, as she arranged the flowers they’d brought her carefully in a gold vase. She had nodded, shyly, her features still awash in love for her son; in relief towards him, in the love Kenzie had seen in her eyes. The world will have changed, Rosemary had said. And everything in it seemed to be flowers on Kenzie’s heart.

“I never thought the day would come where my mother and your mother would willingly agree to be in the same room together again,” Duncan said, bringing a hand along his jaw as they walked back through the doors--they’d said their farewells to Annette a moment ago after a relatively simple (at least, for Arturo) dinner of salmon and spanish-style quinoa with her, Ingrid overseeing the meal in her protective, silent manner. The G-Class was nowhere to be seen now, Annette’s personal service having taken their belongings along to the penthouse without them; instead, like some magical force had called it, Duncan’s telltale black BMW idled on the corner.

“I know, I--Samuel!” Kenzie squealed, noticing it. She raced away from Duncan, coming to the driver’s side window--Samuel pushed the door open, standing, his blindingly white smile flashing at her, and Kenzie threw herself into his big arms, laughing.

“I know it’s only been a few days, but I missed you terribly--” she murmured against him.

“I feel the same way, Miss Mackenzie. To see both of you is a relief.”

“Samuel, we’re engaged.”

Samuel’s laugh was instantaneous and burst out of him like peal of thunder.

“There is nothing else in the world that would have made me so happy to hear.” Duncan came up beside them, and to Kenzie’s surprise, Samuel pulled him into a crushing hug. When he let go, Kenzie could see the joyful emotion on Duncan’s face; feel waves of intense blue love for the older man in his mind.

“Duncan, Mackenzie, I must tell you,” Samuel said, suddenly serious. “There are so many paparazzi at the penthouse--a sea of them. As of Bill Shepherd’s passing, it seems they have decided to ignore his arrangements. I think an escort will be necessary today.”

“Fuck. Right. Okay.” Duncan pulled his phone out, deftly typing, bringing it to his ear. How does any one person look so good doing the simplest things, Kenzie thought. I’ll never not be in awe of you, my love. The Cartier flashed on his wrist, the breeze ruffling at his hair. A drop of rain fell on his cheek as Kenzie watched and both he and Samuel moved to pull the side door open at the same time for her. She laughed a little, awash in affection. The rain is washing away the last of the old world, she thought, sliding into the BMW’s familiar backseat. And now there are only beautiful things ahead. Whatever we imagine, we’ll create it. I can feel it. Whatever we dream up, we’ll make into reality.

By the time Harris arrived with an entourage of dark-suited men, the rain had started in earnest, and pealing thunder was bursting in the sky with long streaks of lightning. Kenzie had settled, half-sleepy, into the crook under Duncan’s arm--Harris slid into the front seat beside Samuel, shaking his hand warmly, then turning to dip an arm through the partition, Kenzie grasping his fingers in greeting, Duncan smiling at both of them, his cheek on the top of Kenzie’s head. Harris looked radiantly happy; he’s in love, Kenzie thought, and wanted to cry again. He’s in love with my beautiful Claire Augustine. My dearest friend, whose soul burns with sincerity.

“Harris,” she breathed, and she could see the brightness in his sepia eyes; the joy. “It’s so good to see you.”

“My god, Miss Mackenzie, Mr. Shepherd,” Harris laughed a little. “You both look wonderful. Brilliant. I can’t...it’s hard to describe it. It’s like you’re shining with light from within.”

“Some really strange things happened to us the past few days,” Duncan said, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Harris, we’re engaged,” Kenzie grinned at her huge bodyguard, and her heart melted at the look that came over his face; its softness and approval.

“That’s the sweetest news to hear.” This man is so strong and so gentle at the same time, Kenzie thought. This is the perfect person for my Clairebear.

“Claire told me,” Kenzie gripped his hand for another moment, then let go. “About you two.” Harris pulled it back through the partition, shyly. “My mother’s having some people over for a little gathering tomorrow--I’d like it very much if you’d come with Claire.”

“Oh, Miss Mackenzie, I--”

“Please, Harris. I insist.”

Harris blushed; he really is very handsome, Kenzie thought. He’s got a lovely heart. Only a great heart could match the heart of my Claire.

“Then it seems I have no choice,” he murmured to her, his wide smile spreading over his face. “I’d be honored to come.”

“Good.” Kenzie leaned back into Duncan, her mouth dipping open on his soft shirt, satisfied. The rain pinged against the BMW’s windows, a sweet lull in her mind, the cedar-jasmine scent of her beloved (for all time) in her nose.

Fuck me when we get home, baby? Put my rose choker on me and fuck me naked on the black, smooth stone. Tomorrow I’ll go see Candice and tell her I’m resigning; I’ll tell her our plan for the Post, that it’ll really be hers to control, and that it’s time for me to write something of my own. But right now I want you alone again. I loved that golden bed at the cabin, but I miss our sweet black bed; I miss our Mirror, the chain where you’ve tied me to your attentions, the bathtub where you gathered roses for me, the cherrywood table where we fucked as rain crashed outside, like today, the window where you pressed yourself into me with such immediacy as we gazed out on the view. Fuck, I missed this car, even--this smooth leather backseat where I’ve held you so often, my dearest love.

Kenzie, angel, fuck, yes. Do you want to choose your engagement ring with me? I want to get it for you tomorrow. Duncan pressed the thought, deep blue, shy, into her.

No, I trust you. I want you to choose it. It’s from you, a symbol of your love for me. When I look at it, I want to see me how you see me there, the love and sweetness in your thoughts of me. I want it to always remind me of you there. I feel like I can already see it--like it’s already in my mind. You think of its shape so often, how you want it to look. And I love it with all my heart, because it’s the ring you dream about for me.

Duncan’s arms came around her, bringing her closer, and Kenzie’s knee came over his thigh, his hand drifting over to come across her bare leg. The BMW was almost back to the penthouse, another car with the additional security following behind. Kenzie could see an absolute sea of people waiting for them despite the rain, but was shocked to find the calmness in her heart couldn’t be stirred into worry in this moment. I know everything’s going to be okay now. I know it like the gold I can see in my own spirit.

Can I tell you a secret, he thought into her, and Kenzie’s whole body was tingling instantly; the feeling of the word in the hidden crevices of her, as if his fingers were there.

Always. Tell me every secret.

I had your ring made weeks ago. I wanted it to be perfect. I had it commissioned specially. I’m not going to find your ring tomorrow; I’m going to go pick it up. It’s a moonstone, Kenzie. It had to be. For you, it was the only ring I could imagine. I wanted to ask, to make sure--to make sure that was okay. Because if you don’t like it, if it’s not perfect--

“Dunny,” she whispered, bringing her lips up to his chiseled jaw, her eyes into his (the storm on the sea on a night lit by the moon). “It will be perfect, because it’s from you. From your heart and your soul, for mine. I trust you.”

She looked out the window at the rain-sodden press and paps and the sea of umbrellas (hundreds of people, she marveled, hundreds of people just standing around in the rain, waiting for us), feeling his eyes still on her in his adoration. The security detail coming around to the door from the other car, each of the men very tall in dark suits; I have to get those flowers for Samuel and Harris and Anchaly, they need them. Those flowers aren’t ordinary, they’re for healing the people we love, bringing them into the new world with us. She could see them in her mind now, where they’d be placed all along the counter up in the penthouse.

“Baby...I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and pushed herself there--and for a flash of golden space, time seemed to stop for her. She was in the penthouse; bathed in the storm’s shadows, standing by the counter; the flowers were lined there as she had seen them. Kenzie grasped three of the bunches and moved herself back to the backseat of the BMW, envisioning its leather interior. And then she was there, Duncan gaping at her, flowers cascading in her hands. Kenzie grinned at him, mischievously.

“I’m getting really good at that.”

“Holy fuck, Kenzie,” he whispered.

Samuel and Harris were at a loss when she handed them the bunches of flowers as they stepped outside, Harris holding an umbrella over Kenzie’s head.

“Where did these come from? You didn’t have them before,” Samuel puzzled through the driver’s side window.

“I used a little magic,” and Kenzie laughed. Samuel and Harris had looked at each other, lost. But the flowers were so beautiful, so sweet, still so fresh despite the journey back from the lake; they seemed to forget the impossibility of them, and instead were enraptured by their beauty, both gazing down into their hands, drinking in their heady scent. Like so many things in life, Kenzie thought, we’re just lucky to have them at all. Or maybe it isn’t luck. I don’t think anything is up to chance. Not anymore. Not with Her guiding everything.

They’d spoken a little to the press before going upstairs, Harris and the entourage hovering around them in a fortress of black suits; answered questions about where they had been (“on a short vacation”), about Bill Shepherd (“we’re grieving but we feel very positive about the future”), and the company. “I spoke to Ben Wilder at the Post,” Duncan had said, cameras flashing on him, “and discussed with him our plans for the longevity of Shepherd Unlimited. My objectives are not my uncle’s. I’ll be dissolving the show, Gardner Analytics, and its App forthwith. Our other plans are still formulating, but from today forward, Shepherd Unlimited will be altered drastically into a vehicle for progressive philanthropy. We are no longer functioning under a capitalist mindset.”

“The official title of the Foundation is changing as well,” Kenzie had added, surrounded by what seemed like fifty microphones, Anchaly’s bouquet in her fingers. Strangely, she didn’t feel nervous. No one seemed to notice the rain, their attention rapt on her. Some of the reporters’ mouths gaped open. Just little ol’ me, Mackenzie Stone, in hiking boots with flowers in my hair, flowers in my hands, but she could hear Duncan clearly in her mind, her fingers threading through the Tiffany moon. Angel, angel baby, High Princess, my beloved, your radiance is staggering, they’ll follow you anywhere, they’ll build temples in your name, you astound me, you make my life a constant blessing, a waking dream, and her smile, she knew, was being captured by a dozen cameras crowded close to her face. “Now it will be called the Shepherd Foundation for the Arts and Sciences, and with it we’ll be creating programs to help disenfranchised people access educational tools and medical care, primarily. With a focus on the arts in general. They’re very important to us. We’re also going to focus heavily on solar energy. This building here--” Kenzie pointed to the high rise, “is going to be the prototype for the others we plan to build. We’re going to make it 100% solar-powered and build a bio-diverse greenhouse on the rooftop as a model for other, similar greenhouses we plan to build on every structure owned by Shepherd Unlimited.”

“And we’re anxious to speak with the President,” Duncan enunciated clearly. “Mackenzie and I have some ideas for serious legislation that could help the District of Columbia and other major American cities convert to solar energy and bio-safe production standards akin to the ones we’re implementing for Shepherd Unlimited. A serious conversation with her for the green future of the United States is a priority for us.”

“Does this mean you’re officially a Democrat?” It was Gary Spencer.

“The company--that is, Shepherd Unlimited as an organization--is no longer affiliated with any political party. Our focus will be on helping the working class. Thanks, that’s all for right now. We’ll see all of you again soon.”

“Mackenzie, you looked so beautiful at the Gala,” a young reporter they didn’t recognize said suddenly, as Duncan and Kenzie went to move away from the crowd. She was short, with dark hair that fell around her round, pretty face to her shoulders, and was wearing a smart, tan-colored skirted suit and heeled boots, holding an umbrella with a pattern of white leaves on turquoise green among the sea of black umbrellas surrounding her. She was gazing at Kenzie with a glassy-eyed expression; reverent, knowing. “Angelic. It was--it was moving. Both of you. It’s obvious how much you really love each other. I--I wanted to say. I wish you every happiness. Thank you for--for showing your love to all of us...I just wanted to say thank you.”

Kenzie reached out to her--the girl accepted her hand, and Kenzie could see she was near tears. May Her hand guide you in all things, beloved. She nodded to the girl, pressing the thought against her. May you always feel loved, for you can see Her work in the universe. Duncan watched them for a minute, his blue eyes sliding knowingly between them. She could hear camera shutters going off wildly around them. Then Kenzie stepped away from the girl and took his hand, and they rushed through the soft rain into the foyer.

“Anchaly! Anchaly!” Kenzie ran to him, her boots stomping on the spotless marble. “We brought you flowers. From the lake. These flowers are--they’re special.” Anchaly was giving her a shocked expression, eyes wide, The New Adam and Eve poised in his hand. Kenzie ran around his desk, pushing the bouquet into his lap. Anchaly stared down at them for a moment, then his face broke into radiant happiness.

“These are the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen,” he said, and Duncan was grinning at them, melting Kenzie’s heart like ice-cream under a summer sun. “They look like you just plucked them from a garden in heaven.”

“They’ll bring you great fortunate,” Kenzie said, batting her eyelashes at him, giggling, and then became serious. “Anchaly, thank you for everything. For being so lovely. For making me feel so at home here. I’m so grateful to you.”

“It’s been one of the great pleasures of my life, Miss Stone. I can’t overemphasize that. Your presence here has been a gift to us, not the other way around. You are a bright star. Thank you for the flowers--my goodness.”

Kenzie nodded, and skipped back around the desk to pull Duncan to the elevator. He fell after her, his eyes dark and lovely on her; just try to get away from me now, Princess Kenzie. I’m gonna trap you in that elevator. Kenzie laughed; her hair tossed over the side of the face as she pulled him in, waving after Harris and their entourage. “See you tomorrow, Harris--” and then the door slid shut, and Duncan’s hands (oh fuck, baby, your hands) were lifting up to her throat, pressing her insistently back into the mirrored surface behind them.

“Are you gonna fuck your baby now?” She whispered, laughing up at him. He smelled like the rain, like the musk of his own sweat and skin, indecipherable and utterly his own--his face hung over hers, the fine chiseled straightness of his nose, the outline of his achingly beautiful lips, his thoughts rushing against her, his blue eyes ravenous and fingers tight, kindling her thoughts towards her choker, its grasping hold on her. The reminder that I belong to you. And what a blessed reminder it is. Duncan was thinking of the sweet smell of her cunt, she could feel it, thinking of the softness of the lips of her sex on the flat of his tongue, thinking of the intense tightness of her ass when he was buried inside it, thinking of the sore redness he’d left on her asscheeks, thinking of her in the black lingerie, thinking of tying her to the bed with his belt, to the chain with the velvet rope--thinking of shivering sound of her moans when he spanked her, when he slapped her clit with the flat of his palm--he was thinking about how he was going to drag her against the counter and fuck her standing, and Kenzie couldn’t keep her nervous laughter at bay; so do it baby, be rough with me, go on do it, do it you fucking god, you exquisite prince, clutch me to you as I am yours in all things, a part of your body, the wholeness of your soul, and she wiggled under his hand, pretending she was trying to get free, to make him tighten his grip on her. His eyes darken with the knowledge of me.

Duncan pressed his mouth, crimson-tinged with heat,.against her cheek, forcing her head to the side, the tightness of his hand making her gasp now. His other hand was pressed flush between her legs, over her panties, fingers spread along the stretch of her sex, held still, almost unbearable in their pressure. This is mine, he was thinking. This part of you here. This sweetness beyond all other sweetness. I want it again--in my lips, around my aching hardness, dripping down my tongue. I’m already so fucking hard for you. I’m always so fucking hard now. Heaven is the space between your thighs, Kenzie, angel baby.

“Uh huh,” his whisper became a moan, became a plea despite the roughness of his fingers. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock, Princess Kenzie. Tonight I want you to obey your Evening Star. Will you do that for me, High Princess? Will you let me tell you what to do?”

Kenzie sighed against him, a whine of delight. “Yes, sweet Prince. Tell me what to do for you. You’re so fucking beautiful, the most beautiful of all men on earth, and I love you more than the stars, more than heaven--” and he was pulling her hair with demanding fingers into his fists, forcing her mouth open, up onto his, his tongue on hers, the scent of him, his height over her, making her slide her hips flush into him, making him clutch her under her ass, along the back of her thighs with tingling, drifting pressure. There is a perfect order to the universe, she thought as he lifted her off the ground, burying his mouth on her neck now, the sweet scratching weight of his stubble staining against her lips. It’s us, fucking together, fucking, fuck--

Duncan dropped her to earth with a groan as the elevator opened, fumbling out his keycard, and her heart was in her mouth as his much larger hand fell down her arm, enveloping her wrist with an insistent, unbreakable grasp, his fingers burning. They fell inside the penthouse door, and Duncan suddenly stepped back from her, achingly setting her free. Kenzie’s nerves were afire now, her body humming with the wild demand in him, the way he was throwing her body this way with blunt force, the way he was staring at her. You’re Dionysus, I’m the sweet wine of your bower, your Ariadne, the height of your potent desire, and without me you will go mad. Without me, you are not yourself.

“Kenzie, take off your panties. Right now.”

Kenzie sucked her breath in, sucked back her moan. She reached under the short hem of the little white dress and eased the white lace panties she wore underneath to the floor, kicking them away with her hiking boots.

“Turn around and lean down. Hold your ankles.”

Oh my goddess, baby.

She giggled nervously, turning, leaning down, gripping onto either ankle--she felt the cool air of the penthouse drift along her exposed sex now as the hem lifted up along her back, her bare cunt and ass facing him, her hair and the tiny flowers he’d twined in it falling along her cheeks. She heard the sharpness of his breath, felt the darkening drift of his energy (his power, kindled), felt him moving up behind her--then she felt him kneel, his hands on the deeply sensitive softness at the back of her thighs, his knees coming down on either side of her feet, so close his musky scent pressed close on her with the flushed warmth of his skin. She shivered, almost losing her balance, at the sweetness of him--Duncan gripped her tightly, holding her steady, and then his mouth was trailing along the bruised flesh of her ass. He nibbled there slightly, sucked, and she felt the curving tickle of his eyelashes as his eyes closed, his breath hitching; then he was pushing her ass cheeks apart, his breath blowing, tiny and shiveringly cool, along the pucker of her asshole, and then his tongue was lolling down over the opening of her cunt--Kenzie shook violently, moaning, almost losing her balance again as his mouth dipped further, onto her clit--and then he was sliding back, standing away from her, going to her suitcase and bringing it in front of her.

“Don’t move, Kenzie baby,” he whispered. “Stay just like that. Keep yourself like that for me. Just a little bit longer.”

“Mmmh, Dunny, baby, it’s hard,” and Kenzie could feel her knees trembling.

Duncan found the rose choker and the plug, and Kenzie watched him bite his lip in anticipation, her breath coming out in another little gasp. He came up to her on his knees and deftly buckled the smooth leather around her neck, pulling it tight--Kenzie’s vision blurred, then settled back as Duncan kissed her, his mouth trembling and open, his tongue needy, hands pulling her chin against him.

“Okay, up now, Princess,” he whispered, and Kenzie straightened, standing over him. He gazed up at her (fucking goddess, he thought) and Kenzie smiled down at him, lost in his loveliness. He crooked his finger at her--those beautiful long fingers.

“Turn around, sweet baby,” and she did, heart resounding.

“I’d do anything for you, Duncan,” she whispered to him, over her shoulder, and knew, with painful, sharp clarity, how true it was. “For you, all my weakness is laid bare. In your arms I am vulnerable to anything you’d do...or say...or give, or take away from me. Oh, goddess. It’s so much.”

“I know, Kenzie, my love. And you know...I pray you know...how entirely I would do anything for you. Anything of heaven, earth, or hell. Anything. I will worship you endlessly in this world until my death, and then I will be reborn to worship you in the next. Now lean down again, beloved angel. Let me. Do as I say.”

Kenzie was close to the edge of the island now--she leaned down on it, her cheek to its coldness, the air drifting against the wetness along her sex again, and gripped the smooth corners of obsidian stone. She felt the tickling contact of his fingers once more, starting at her ankles this time, sliding upwards, his lips pressing on the bruises he left again; so slowly, almost unbearably slow. Kenzie could smell the potency of the rest of the wildflowers a few feet away, resting on the island--she tried to focus on their scent for a moment to keep her legs from shaking, but then Duncan was pressing her ass apart again, and she couldn’t stop her voice from rising in a convulsive cry as she felt a long line of his warm spit drip down between them, into the hole there--and his long, elegant thumb immediately force itself into her, sliding the wetness into her, preparing her for a moment, his other fingers drifting up her thigh, cupping the cheek above it.

“My angel baby,” he whispered, and the softness of his voice made her want to scream. “I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard now.” And then, with an immediacy that stole every bit of breath from her lungs, Duncan pressed the plug into her ass, harshly, utterly, with the flat of his hand flush against her, forcing it in as far as it would go, causing her nerves to sing and her voice to hitch into wordless entreaties, and then he was standing behind her, hands insistently pushing her dress up, pulling it over her head so she was laid bare to him; then she heard the rustling of him disrobing himself, scattering his clothing to the floor in a rippling heap, the hovering heat of him kindling her senses, and he slid his arms under her slender breasts at her torso, flushing her back against his chest and his abdomen, the feeling of him so slick-soft and the scent of him rich with deep musk and his voice in her ear--

“Angel--”

Delight of my eyes, fire in my heart, center of the universe, let me lay worship between your thighs--

“Angel--”

Honey-voiced, silk-skinned, rose-scented, sun-haloed, princess of gold--

They gasped into each other as he entered her, his cock achingly hard and immediately slick with her arousal and the spit he’d left inside her; her ass twinged, sucking at the plug, pushing spit to the front of her mouth, threatening to spill it forward from her lips. He held her against him utterly this way as he moved against her, lips buried in her hair--Kenzie felt absolutely lost to him, her body and her mind tangled against him in such a way that she thought she would die if ever she came undone. I worship you, he bled against her. I worship you until heaven falls utterly.

“Fu-uuck,” she heard herself whining, far away. “Dunny, touch my poor little clit, please--”

“You do as I say tonight, my little flower goddess--” he murmured into her ear. “You won’t come until I fuck you for as long as I want to, Mrs. Shepherd. Don’t touch your clit or you’ll be spanked. Hard.”

“Ungh--Dunny--baby--”

“Go ahead, baby, cry out for me. I wanna hear. Sing out to me, High Princess, my most luxuriant beauty of the stars.”

He pushed her thighs out with his knees so they were spread utterly, pounding into her so roughly Kenzie keened against the counter, her body rocking back and forth, her breasts coldly pressed on the obsidian, the choker cutting against her throat; the counter was tethered utterly and could not be moved, so Kenzie’s shudders against it made her feel like a wave of deep water on a still shoreline; the bliss is to be locked to you this way, and also in movement. The dance between us is one that can’t be described in words. It’s our souls coming together every time. When we fuck, we’re touching each other in the deepest, most shadowed place. Oh, fuck--

Kenzie’s hand drifted down to her clit, unthinkingly--Duncan’s hand snapped out and yanked her fingers away, then he stretched his long fingers and slapped them sharply, three times in quick succession, against the lips of her cunt, against the sensitive bundle of nerves between them; Kenzie gasped sharply, her vision going dark again for a moment at the intensity of it, the sharp spikes of light that lit her mind and the growing heat in her belly.

“Only I get to touch you there this time, angel,” he moaned into her ear, and then he pressed his index and middle finger into her clit, not moving them for a long while as he fucked her--letting the force of them make her keen her hips against him, grinding onto the thickness of his cock; making her fuck herself. “That’s it, angel baby, my golden goddess. Fuck my cock, Kenzie, baby--”

Duncan was toying with the plug as he worked at her, teasing it roughly against the pressure of her ass, and she let out a wailing groan, snapping her teeth together to try to keep her cries at bay. He was pressing into her neck with a strong hand again, pushing her cheek into the cold stone, then pulling her back up to bring his fingers into her throat, around the choker (oh goddess fuck the way you know I love it so much, so tightly, my breath aching to be free but my heart longing for you to never let go), bringing his nose against the back of her neck as he fucked her, breath hot; his mouth hung open on her skin, his voice bleeding out against her, his ecstasy untethering him.

“Ken-n-zie, fuck, can you see that--”

At first Kenzie didn’t understand--could see nothing from her heavy-lidded eyes but the flowers gathered in front of her, the doorway of the dining room beyond, the silver fridge, and darkness at the corners of her vision, Duncan’s fingers tangled in her hair and tight on her skin, the pressure of his fingers on her clit making her want to scream---but then her vision shifted, as it had in the forest at the lake, as it had in their dreams.

She thought she saw the sky; full of stars, so many stars, as it had been there in the clearing, millions of stars, the universe like a cosmic ocean of a depth I could not imagine, and saw the moon, a waning third now that was becoming crescent-like. And then, the vision seemed to double; seemed to triple, and extend further, and fall in itself, becoming some impossible geometry of dimension, and every moon was a pattern of the next, a copy but also not a copy, also its own moon, distinct, singular--and in their faces, Kenzie knew; could see. Could see Her, the Goddess, her faces, not only three, but many, infinite, extending forever, beyond all description, beyond all measure of space or time. Knew that this; the melding of their bodies, the demand of their sex, was divinely right, even holy, even of heaven.

Then the vision seemed to fall back into itself, to collapse. She realized inside of the vision that they hadn’t ceased the ardency of their movements against each other--if anything she gasped with the need to have him closer, turned her neck under his hand to reach his mouth; Duncan kissed her with a neediness that made her body hum, as if he were sucking not only the breath from her, but the golden outline of her spirit--she thought of what she’d imagined the night of the Gala, staring up at the fullness of the moon over the penthouse. Those moons live beside our moon, and together, they echo through time. Just as every version of us, and our story, echoes in time beside us. And in every story, we find each other. In every story, I will always find you, Duncan. She’s showing us. She’s telling us that story. The story beyond time.

And as Kenzie drifted into the rising storm that was her release--his own so achingly close to her, I know baby, I can feel you, the glow of your skin, the furious idolatry for me in your thoughts--she thought of the song they’d heard; the one that had whisked them, with supernatural speed, into the arms of his distraught mother, into the halo of healing forgiveness that still lingered in them--

Don’t you see what you’re finding? This is heaven in hiding, this is heaven in hiding

And as they came together, locked together utterly, the echoes of it resounded in her mind and again, and she felt him there, tied to every part of her, the aspects that could not be seen, only sensed, her true soul against his, saw the moons extending into eternity--

This is heaven in hiding, this is heaven in hiding, we’re heaven in hiding, heaven in hiding, heaven in hiding...

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