hey guys!! take a look at this thing i wrote for my ocâs :)))
Undeserving (I Love You Too Much to Let You Stay) -- a Zivy oneshot
word count: 5,215
tw// mentions of past abuse, extreme self-doubt
I've been working on this oneshot for a while and I'm so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy this very self-indulgent piece.
love you guys <3
(and thank you @miirohs for your help + enthusiasm)
Zira wakes up with her skin crawling. Her eyes flutter open and Zira is greeted by the beautiful sight of Ivyâs freckled face soft with sleep, red hair resting on the pillow around her like a halo of protective fire.
The sun streams through the bedroom window, light blessing Ivy with its golden touch.
Zira looks at the personification of perfection and feels her heart sink.
With grace and stealth learned on the most bloodstained of fields, Zira slides out of bed, careful not to disturb Ivy. She walks around the bed to close the curtains, trying to breathe through the feeling humming under her skin. Everything about this morning feels wrong, and, unfortunately, shrouding the bedroom in shadow doesnât help anything.
Still asleep, Ivy lets out a deep exhale and Zira feels her body warm with a mix of affection and guilt.
Sheâs perfect, look at her, Ziraâs mind whispers. Youâre ruining her.
She dresses quickly, deftly slipping out of her bed clothes and putting on a simple day gown. The tailored fabric feels soothing on her skin, but the steel circlet she slides over her head to rest against her forehead feels better. Zira resists the urge to hold it to her nose just to let the calming smell of metal wash over her.
The sheets rustle as Ivy turns over and Ziraâs heart jumps. Her heartstrings strain at the sight of the frown on Ivyâs face as her arm falls through a space beside her that should have been filled. Guilt pools in her gut, but every fiber of Ziraâs body screams at her to get out.
The princess ducks out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible.
Mornings in the Imani palace are bright, sunlight bouncing off the marble tiles in the hallways. The guards draw the curtains away from the windows as Zira walks past, bowing shallowly.
Zira wants to scream.
Hide yourself away. Youâll hurt them if you stay close.
She scratches her nails down her forearm, finds a bit of comfort in the sting.
Walking to the kitchens takes longer than Zira thought it would. The route feels drawn out, with more corners to round and stairs to the basement, but eventually, her hands meet the worn wood of the kitchen doors and she pushes them aside.
Sam Yinlar, the royal cook, looks up and smiles at the sight of her, quickly retying the strings of his stained, white apron.
âItâs rather early,â Sam comments, quietly dismissing the other people working in the kitchen as Zira pushes herself up to sit on the farthest corner of the counters. âItâs been a while since youâve visited me like this.â
Zira sighs, letting her head fall to her knees. âHi, Sam.â
âZira.â
She huffs, twitching her fingers and summoning a fork to her hand from right next to Sam. âIf youâre not helpful, Iâm going to leave.â She allows the ferrokinesis humming in her blood to sing, crushing the fork into a metal ball. âBetter yet, Iâm going to fire you.â
Sam isnât phased, he continues cutting the vegetables on the cutting board in front of him, corner of his mouth tugged upwards with amusement. âWith all due respect, Princess, youâve been threatening me with that since you were seven. Iâm going to call your bluff here.â
âSam.â
âWhatâs bothering you, Zira?â Sam pushes, scooping the neat cubes of vegetables into a ceramic bowl. He gestures vaguely at her with the point of his cooking knife. âAnd donât try to get around the question. I know your tricks.â
Zira pinches the metal ball, kneads it as if it was clay. âItâs Ivy,â she finally says, and winces because she knows how it sounds.
The royal cook freezes. He sets the knife down calmly and fixes Zira with a look so focused she wouldnât dream of breaking eye contact. âZira. Is everything okay? Is she hurting you?â
Zira wanted to scream, earlier. Now, her eyes water. Now, she wants to cry.
It takes a deep breath to keep the rivers of emotion at bay.
âNo, Sam. Itâs me.â
Samâs eyes narrow. âElaborate. Now.â
âI think Iâm hurting her,â Zira breathes, unable to help the way her eyes flick down to her hands, as if expecting to see scarlet pooling in the creases of her palms. âSheâs too good for me, Sam. Everyone knows it.â
Flinching isnât something Zira does much of anymore, but the sound of Sam stabbing his knife into the wood of his cutting board makes her tense too obviously to be missed.
âZira Sevaan,â the man's voice rings, forceful as it bounces off the surfaces in the kitchen. âLook at me right now, and listen.â
She complies.
âHave you hurt her?â Sam asks and Zira frowns, irritation simmering in her gut at his stupid question.
âI just said-â
Sam sighs, yanking his cooking knife out of the cutting board and setting it down calmly once again. âIâm going to be blunt, Princess. Have you hurt her in the way your mother used to hurt you?â
Zira stills.
She swears a shadow shifts in the way it shouldnât, but thatâs just her memories playing tricks. They like creating little hallucinations to mess with me.
It takes work to make her vocal cords work to form the sounds of her answer. âNo.â
An encouraging glint shines in Samâs eyes. âHave you purposefully put her in situations where she could get hurt? Are you manipulating her?â
âSheâs with me, Yinlar. I think thatâs dangerous enough,â Zira shoots back bitterly. âYou likely only know half of what Iâve done.â
Like always, Sam is patient, wise in his rebuttals. âI know youâve killed people, I know youâve done worse, and I know youâd do it again in a heartbeat if you had to.â
Again, Ziraâs gaze flits down to her hands. Seeing tan, scarred flesh feels wrong. She almost craves the sticky sensation of blood seeping into every little line and crease in her skin, almost misses the sharp, unmistakable scent of it.Â
âItâs like I told you. Iâm going to ruin her. Iâve done awful thingsâ for Delphineâs sake I practically killed her best friends! She deserves someone so much better than someone damaged and morally unsound.â Zira rips off her circlet and rakes an angry hand through her hair, grateful she didnât bother to braid it before coming down to the kitchens.
âShe still loves you and chooses to be with you?â Sam asks pointedly.
Zira nods, and it pains her. âThatâs the problââ
Sam Yinlar cuts her off. âYou havenât coerced or manipulated her into being your partner, correct?â
âNo. Of course not.â
He smiles. âYou have done awful things, yes? And youâd do them again?â
Zira hesitates before delivering the honest answer waiting on her tongue, if only because the pause has the potential to make her sound like a better person. âIf the situation called for it.â
If she asked me to, goes unsaid. If someone threatened or hurt her.
Sam smiles wider, and Zira braces herself for the killing blow.Â
The royal chef may not be a Mythica, may know nothing about what war feels like, but he beats Zira every time. He corrals her into a corner so she canât escape with practiced deflection before forcing a mirror in front of her face and a basket full of truths into her arms.
âAnd no matter what, youâd never even think of harming Ivy?â
Iâd rather die, Zira could say.
Youâve said that before, she knows Sam would retort calmly, so I donât think that even begins to describe a fraction of your feelings towards this girl.
Youâre right, Zira would admit.
She settles for a simple, âNever.â
Sam knows me well enough at this point to fill in the blanks.
The royal chef nods, as if Ziraâs measly answers could solve her problem, the insecurity and guilt chewing at the worn threads of her being. âThen you have your answer, Princess. You arenât hurting her, and you arenât going to hurt her.â
Zira groans in annoyance, throwing her head back against the cabinets above her and relishing in the sound and spark of pain it produces. âYouâre not getting it!â
Sam frowns. âZira, you came to me with a concern, and I talked you through it. You said you thought you were hurting Ivyâ that you didnât deserve her, and I explained to you how that clearly isnât the case.â He leans on the counter, weight on forearms. âWhat am I not getting?â
Zira wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Now, she does both.
The sob that rips its way out of her throat is painful, it sounds guttural, made worse by the way it echoes in the kitchen. Instinctively, she draws her knees to her chest, clawing at the skin of her upper arms as she wraps them around herself.
She buries her face in the little space her crossed arms create, letting her tears flow freely as her body trembles.
Sam is at Ziraâs side in a heartbeat, standing in front of her and gently pulling her into his embrace. He drops his chin to rest atop her head, squeezing her body once to try and stop the shaking. âHey. Kid. Itâs okay. Youâre okay.â
Zira whimpers.
She feels pathetic, dirty.
She goes to claw at her skin again, but Sam stops her gently, just keeps hugging her until she eventually melts into the steady comfort of his hold.Â
âIâm sorry I didnât get it, Princess. Do you want to explain it to me?â
It takes a few seconds, far more than a few, but Zira eventually gathers herself enough to answer.Â
âI donât deserve someone as perfect as her,â she whispers, words muffled by the rough fabric of Samâs apron. âSheâs far too good to be with me, and I donât deserve her.â
The admission leaves her feeling scrubbed raw.
Sam exhales deeply, a thumb rubbing twice at her shoulder when she trembles again. âIvyâs hardly perfect. Sheâs hurt and killed people too.â
Zira frowns. âDonât do that,â she orders firmly. âDonât try and make her sound like a bad person just to make me feel better about what Iâve done.â She takes a calming breath. âI donât deserve someone good.â
Sam squeezes her tighter, but Zira knows heâs wrestling with the idea of pushing apart to look her in the eye. âI donât care what anyone else says, Zira Sevaan. You deserve every good thing that comes your way.â He taps a random pattern onto her shoulder. âNo one is perfect. Everyone has done good and bad things. The mistakes you make donât define you as a person.â
Zira pushes herself away, quickly drying her tears. âThey werenât mistakes, though, Sam. I made the conscious decision to murder and torture people.â
âYou realize itâs wrong, though,â Sam tries.
âIâd do it again.â Zira is stubborn.
âZira,â Sam tries again, firm. âYou are not a bad person. You did bad things, but that doesnât make you a pad person. You were hurt. You are still hurting. The bad things you did donât cancel out your right to heal.â
âThatâs not what my mother said,â Zira mumbles, ghosting a thumb over her forearms as if remembering how it felt to have bruises there. âThatâs not what a lot of people say.â
Sam frowns. âYour mother was abusive and I donât care what other people have to say. You deserve to be happy.â
Vulnerability is terrifying. Vulnerability flays Zira limb from limb, dissects her for Samâs observant eyes to pick apart. This time, she doesnât shy away. This time, she sticks it out and steeps in the discomfort.
âFeeling happy feels wrong, sometimes. It feels like I deserve that almost less than I deserve Ivy,â Zira confesses, falling into the embrace Sam offers again.
Sam just holds her, simple and meaningful in his display of affection and comfort. âIâll say it as many times as you need to hear it: you deserve the good things that are happening to you, you deserve to have Ivy and all the happiness she brings you, and you are not a bad person.â
The tears start flowing again and Zira doesnât bother stopping them. She lets them fall, lets Samâs words soak into the hollow cracks that had formed over the years of her existence.
The two of them take solace in the silence.
âIâm a good person,â Zira tries out saying, just to hear the way it rolls off of her tongue. She whispers it like itâs a secret.
It feels almost instinctive, the way Samâs hold on her tightens. âYou are. You really are.â
Zira keeps going. âI deserve good things.â
âYou do, Princess.â
âI deserve the happiness my partner makes me feel.â Her voice cracks and wavers. I deserve to wake up beside her every morning and brush her soft hair away from her pretty face just to kiss her on the nose. I deserve to be able to bicker with her about staying in bed or actually fulfilling our duties.
âI couldnât have said it better, kiddo,â Sam whispers. âNow how about we make some plica for you to enjoy at breakfast with her?â
Zira smiles softly, drying the final tears from the corners of her eyes as the two of them step apart and she hops down from the counter. âIâd like that a lot. Thank you, Sam.â
Already walking away to grab ingredients from the cabinets, Sam smiles at her over his shoulder. âGo be helpful and grab some bowls for me.â
Anytime, Princess, goes unsaid.
â --
Zira takes a deep breath before pushing open the doors of the library with her foot, tray stacked high with plica in hand. The servants said sheâd be here. I hope theyâre right, she thinks as she balances the tray while slipping through the space in between the doors.
Sure enough, a head of familiar, red hair whips around at her entry.
Ivyâs face goes soft, eyes sparkling, and Zira feels her heart warm at the sight.
âGood morning, love,â Ivy says, beckoning her lover over. âYou brought plica!â she exclaims happily, spotting the contents of the tray. âIs that what you were doing this morning?â
Walking over to set the tray of pastries down on the big table in the center of the table, Zira settles down on the couch right next to Ivy, settling against her side even as her gut swirls with guilt she tries to get rid of. âI thought Iâd pay a visit to Sam,â she answers, shrugging in an attempt to seem casual.
An arm comes to rest around Ziraâs shoulders, soft fingers brushing across the nape of her neck, and Ziraâs heart jumps. âThat early? You should have stayed in bed and visited him later,â Ivy admonishes fondly, thumb ghosting over the base of her loverâs skull
Ziraâs breath catches in her throat and her heart skips too many beats.
Youâre going to hurt her.
She flinches backwards hard enough that she tumbles off of the couch, knees and elbows making painful contact with the floor. The loss of Ivyâs warmth against her side makes her shiver, but the guilt woven into every fiber of her being keeps her from returning to the otherâs embrace.
Hands still outstretched as if she had tried to keep Zira from falling, Ivy schools her face from shock and sadness to kind and contemplative. âBad day?â she asks.
âBad day,â Zira answers quietly.
They developed the system a bit ago, and it works better than Zira could have ever imagined. In the early days, Ivy would ask âGood day or bad day?â before even coming close to making contact, because some days, the very thought of being touched made Zira want to both stab someone and disappear.
Ivy nods and readjusts on the couch, crossing her legs and scooting over to only take up one half of the couch. âGood day,â she answers for herself.Â
Take what you want, she means. Whenever youâre comfortable, Iâm here.
Shame making her face warm, Zira rises from the floor and sits back on the couch, crowding herself as far into the corner as possible.Â
Ivy points to her forehead, at the circlet resting against her skin. âYou should take that off. Your skinâs going white.â Her eyes soften, voice too. âItâs hurting you.â
Ziraâs heart aches and she reaches up to take the steel thing off, taking a deep breath and willing her ferrokinesis to mellow out. Immediately, a headache she didnât realize was forming begins to subside.Â
Reaching out slowly, giving Zira time to pull away if she wanted to, Ivy takes the circlet from Ziraâs hands. âFor now,â she says softly, âjust be Zira for a bit. Forget the circlet and the title. I want to talk through this.â
The circlet transforms into a steel rose in Ivyâs hands.
Zira makes the flower float upwards with an almost missable twitch of her fingers, not looking away from the mesmerizing green of Ivyâs eyes. Just as slowly as the other did, she stretches out a hand, gently tucking Ivyâs red hair behind her ear. Zira grabs the floating rose out of the air and tucks it behind her loverâs ear as well.
âThank you,â Ivy whispers, her breath ticking the skin of Ziraâs palm as she leans into the lingering touch. âItâs beautiful.â
Zira smiles softly, ghosting the pad of her finger across Ivyâs cheekbone. âItâs not the only one,â she says, heart sparking at the sight of the blush beginning to color Ivyâs cheeks.
You canât have this with her.
The princessâs face falls and her hand drops like a stone into her lap.Â
Kindly, Ivy leans away, resting against the back of the couch once more. âIâm here,â she says simply. âIâm here if and when you need to talk, always.â
Zira feels the cracks forming, prepares to shatter and braces for the feeling of accidentally cutting herself on the shards of her being. She steels herself, draws upon familiar impassivity to keep from bursting into tears right there.Â
âYouâre so good,â she chokes out in a low whisper after a bit. âAnd youâre good to me.â
Ivy tilts her head to the side in confusion, not having heard her, silently gesturing to ask for an explanation.
Donât tell her, Ziraâs thoughts whisper, in a voice that sounds eerily like her mother did. Sheâll realize the truth and leave. Youâll be alone.
âI donât want us to be together,â she says, trying to sound firm. It comes out weakly, her voice wavering and betraying the uncertainty, guilt, and sadness she had been trying to hide. âWeâreâ weâre not a good match.â
She had kept an admirably even disposition throughout the entire interaction thus far, but Ivy flinches hard, arms instinctively drifting upwards to wrap around herself protectively. But she doesnât whimper or cry, even though her eyes water. âExplain â now â because youâre not making any sense.â
See? Youâre hurting her.
Zira wants to scream and cry and break herself to pieces so she canât hurt this being of perfection before her.Â
The princess cuts off her connection to metal, afraid of what could happen with her wild emotions and the metal resting so close to Ivyâs skin.
âTake the flower off,â she orders quietly, as if volume could soften the blow. âPlease.â
Ivy frowns, a single tear falling from her eye. She wipes it away quickly, hand returning to rest on her opposite shoulder. âWhy donât you do it yourself?â she challenges, but it sounds weak too. âYouâre more than capable of controlling metal.â
âPlease,â Zira pleads again, panicking at the feeling of her ferrokinesis humming under her skin again. âI canât. Take off the flower and set it on the table.â
âNext to the plica you made for someone you spent time making for someone youâre not a good match with?â Ivy shoots back, but she complies, setting it down next to the tray of pastries. âThere, done. Nowââ her voice cracks with emotion and another tear falls. She wipes it away just as swiftly. âNow,â she tries again, âexplain, Zira.â
Look! See? Sheâs crying. Youâre hurting her and keeping her close to you when all itâs doing is damaging her more, the ghost of Kamaraâs abuse returns once more to say.
âPlease go,â Zira asks, desperation bleeding through the syllables that fall past her lips.Â
Ivy lets out a bitter laugh and the sound grates on her loverâs ears. âYouâre not making any sense right now. You walked in this room with plica you made for both of us, gave me a pretty rose you made out of your royal circlet, and now you want me out of your sight.â Her bottom lip quivers, voice shaking. âExplain,â she begs.
With every second she spends near you, she only gets more hurt.
Zira forces iron-strong resolve into her voice, uses it to mask her breaking heart. Please, love, she pleads in her head, please go before I hurt you more.
âGo, Ivy.â
Zira almost flinches at how cold she sounds, hating how it sounds like her mother did.
Ivy stands up from the couch, expression unreadable. âI want an explanation soon,â she says, defeat weighing down every word. âI love you,â she says softly before turning on her heel and leaving.
The door slams shut behind her.
Zira takes one look at the steel flower and the tray of plica and bursts into tears.Â
â
They avoid each other for the rest of the day. Zira hides away in her office, tending to her queenly duties. The title is still new and fresh, and sheâs still drowning in work. The servants tell her that Ivy spent the day in town with her friends.
Night falls mercilessly and Zira falls asleep at her desk.Â
She startles awake at the feeling of someoneâs hand resting on her shoulder, papers fluttering sadly to the ground when theyâre knocked off by her wild movements.Â
âEasy, easy,â the voice soothes, and Zira recognizes it with a twist of her heart. âItâs late, Zira. You should come to bed.â
Still half asleep, Zira leans into Ivyâs touch. âMissed you,â she mumbles, voice muffled by her arm and slurred by sleep. âMissed you a lot,â she chokes out, groaning as she uses her aching muscles to sit up.
Ivy laughs lightly, and Zira doesnât realize how forced it sounds. âIâm here now. You need to come to bed, or youâre going to hurt your neck.â She takes Ziraâs hand, lacing their fingers together before tugging gently. âItâs a bad day, so Iâll sleep somewhere else.â
âNo,â Zira says, and she feels her face burn in embarrassment when she realizes how quickly she responded. âI wantâ If you want, please stay with me.â
With a sardonic huff, Ivyâs hand falls away. âWhat I wouldn't have given to have heard that this morning.â
Now look at what youâve done, child. Just as I predicted, youâve caused her pain.
Ziraâs blood goes cold at the reminder of their conversation that morning. She thinks back to the flinches and the fear, how volatile, dangerous, and guilty sheâd felt. âIâm sorry,â she whispers after a moment. âI just didnât want to hurt you.â
The words tip Ivy over the edge. âToo late, Zira,â she spits back. âYou already did that.â She moves away, sitting down in a chair a few paces away from the desk, and Zira finds hope in the fact that she didnât leave. âI think weâre both too tired to talk it out right now,â she admits.
Zira gets woken up completely by that, reaching out for Ivy instinctively. âNo. Iâm awake and I need to explain.â She turns in her chair to face Ivy completely. âAnd I need to apologize.â
Ivy nods. Go on, the gesture says.
âYou are a good personâ the best Iâve ever known,â Zira begins. âYou deserve happiness, a perfect partner, and every other good thing that comes your way.â She takes another deep breath. âI am damaged. I am a bad person who���s done bad things and you shouldnât settle for that. I donât want you chained to someone unworthy.â
Ziraâs skin crawls and her ferrokinesis begs to be used.
Ivyâs face shutters. âYouâre not a bad person,â she says firmly. âAnd even if you were, that would change nothing.â
âItâd change everything,â Zira argues, frowning. âAnd if I am not a bad person, Iâm a dangerous one. Death and tragedy follow me around like I have them on a leash, and we both know neither take well to being controlled.â
Vulnerability is a demon Zira hates facing. Ivy sees her attempts at loose avoidance and forces her towards the confrontation, somehow both unflinching and comforting.
âWhat are you so afraid of?â Ivy challenges.
âMyself,â Zira answers simply, watching as clarity and understanding flutter across her loverâs face. âI have damaged everyone and everything that has ever been in my life. I canât do that to you.â
Ivy sees the twitching of Ziraâs fingers and pulls her into a tight hug, one arm around her waist and another cradling the back of her head. âCry if you want to,â she whispers, pressing a long kiss to her loverâs hair.
Zira breaks. âI canât ruin you,â she admits into the warmth of Ivyâs neck and shoulder. âYouâre so good â so perfect â and Iâm afraid of ruining you because Iâm too selfish to let you go.â She chokes on a sob, on the weight of keeping everything at bay.
The metal in the room cheers, screaming and begging for attention.
Immediately, Zira tears herself away from Ivy, scrambling backwards across the massive office to cower in the farthest corner. The breaths donât come easy, getting caught in her throat. Her chest heaves as the tears turn messy.
Ivy gets up slowly. âZi-â
âDonât come near me!â Zira begs, crossing her arms in front of her chest and pinning her arms between her arms and torso. âDonât come near me,â she repeats, quieter this time as she trembles.
Itâs going to happen and youâre going to see. Youâre going to lash out and youâll ruin her and what you have together. Just like everything else, itâll end with blood on your hands.Â
âTake deep breaths,â Ivy soothes as she sits down on the floor too. She starts taking off all of her jewelry, setting it down in front of her.Â
And Zira wants to cry, because Ivy understands, and feeling so seen is terrifying.
âListen to my voice and take slow breaths. Itâs going to be okay.â Ivy meets Ziraâs eyes unflinchingly, somehow isnât terrified by what she finds burning in her brown eyes. âYouâre not going to hurt me because youâre not that person and youâre strong enough to hold back.â
Deep breaths, Zira tells herself. Focus on one bit of metal and make it your anchor.
She lets her ferrokinesis rip into Ivyâs necklace, uses the overflowing energy to take it apart and reassemble it in the air. The channeling works, slowly, and Zira starts to relax as her heart rate calms.
The metal chain links separate, a thousand little pieces suspended in the air.
Zira takes a deep breath, blinks, and it goes back together. She exhales, and commands the necklace to float back down onto the floor.
Ivy breaks the silence tentatively. âZira? Good time or bad time?â
The princess looks up, drying her tears. âItâs fine,â she assures, voice scratchy with the remnants of her crying. âIâm okay now.â
As she crosses the room to sit right next to her lover in the corner, Ivy smiles. âSee? I was right, love. You didnât hurt me. Iâm okay.â
âThis time,â Zira retorts, tamping down the anxiety that prickles her skin at Ivyâs proximity.Â
Ivy rolls her eyes. She takes Ziraâs hand, grip loose enough to slip out of if she wanted. âDo you trust me?â
Zira answers immediately. âYes. Of course.â
âThen trust my decisions,â Ivy says simply, holding Ziraâs gaze unflinchingly. âTrust that I am happy with you and trust in my faith that you wonât hurt me.â
It takes a second, but Zira concedes. âOkay.â
Ivy allows herself to celebrate the small victory with a little smile, but she doesnât stop pushing. âTrust that youâre not going to âruin meââ whatever that means. No one can deny that you made mistakes, but youâre a good person and you deserve happiness.â
Zira opens and closes her mouth, not sure what to say.
Stifling a little laugh, Ivy leans forward, kissing her tenderly. âDonât feel guilty, love. Youâre allowed to want this and youâre allowed to have this. Youâre not going to mess anything up.
The influx of emotion makes Ziraâs eyes water again.
âI donât know howââ she chokes on her own feelings. âI never want to lose you.â
âYou donât have to.â
It never works like that. We both know that and itâs stupid to pretend otherwise.
Zira hesitates, trying to make sense of the heat in her veins and the pounding of her heart. âI think I want to spend the rest of my life with you,â she admits quietly, and smiles at the way it makes Ivyâs face light up. âI think, someday, I could be good enough to deserve that.â
Ivy smiles, and Zira knows sheâd give up everything to see that for the rest of her life.
âItâs late,â Ivy says softly, brushing her fingers through Ziraâs soft hair. âLetâs go to bed.â
â --
Zira falls asleep feeling loved. Her eyelids flutter as they fight the weight of exhaustion and she struggles to stay awake, the repetitive motions of tracing little patterns on the bare skin of Ivyâs shoulder lulling her to sleep.
She brings her hand up to make constellations out of Ivyâs freckles, distracted for a second by the gentle curves in the waves of Ivyâs red hair. Zira brushes it away from her face with a feather-light touch, scared of waking her up.
The princess smiles, overcome by the comfortable warmth in her heart.
Moonlight streams through the gaps in the window curtains, swathing both of them in gentle silver. For the first time in a while, silver doesnât feel threatening or cold.
Ivy looks peaceful, happy, at home in their bed. She looks perfect, beautiful, good. Even in sleep, the gentle embrace she holds Zira in is comforting. When she was still awake, sheâd tighten her hold every few minutes, just to hear the other girl giggle softly with tired amusement.Â
Right before sheâd succumbed to her exhaustion, Zira brought them even closer to each other, intertwining their legs and lying close enough that their noses brush, comfortable with the proximity and touch.
At every point of contact, Zira feels her skin buzz pleasantly.
She takes a slow, tired blink, and smiles again. This is perfect, appreciate it, her mind whispers. You deserve it.
The stars sparkle overhead as she leans forward to kiss Ivy gently.
âI love you, Ivy,â she whispers against the soft skin of her lips. âI love knowing that for the rest of my life, Iâll have you by my side.â
Zira falls asleep feeling loved.
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