Rest In Pieces

1

Airo

Xadezhda's dark hair, cut severely at her chin, was the first thing Airo noticed as he strolled through the double doors and into the throne room. His doing, it would seem. Well, not literally. She must have been made aware of his return.

Xadya stood waiting for him, hands clasped behind her back, unmoving. Her ability to hold still would forever amaze him.

Her brow twitched, tugging against the black markings on her forehead.

Airo took her in. "Come." His voice was sharp, commanding. She came.

Xadya folded into his arms, he smoothed down the folds of her dark dress as she melted into his embrace.

"Hello, mì dazhka." Airo's voice was just a whisper.

"Will you stay?" she asked, her voice as tiny as ever.

"I'll stay," he soothed.

Xadya, begrudgingly, let Airo fix her hair. Upstairs in her bedroom, linked with his, she sat.

"I thought this would be enough for you," she said calmly. Airo couldn't help but notice how straight her back was.

"It's not." His hand wobbled on the blade. Scissors were a common item, but sharp nonetheless. He would have to be careful.

Xadya did not even twitch as he maneuvered the blades into her hair. She'd cut it herself, likely last minute, but he'd fix that.

The sharp lines she'd created against her chin stayed, but Airo continued until he'd taken off a few more inches, just the way he liked it.

"There," Airo sighed, satisfied. "What do you say?"

"Thank you, Sir," Xadya said softly.

She knew her manners. But he had to be sure.

Unbeknownst to the public, Xadya was Arcane. Or rather, ex-Arcane. Some knew, Airo was sure. Some recognized her. But her markings had been seared off at his request.

The Arcane were a group so shackled by their abilities it eradicated any humanity left in them. They were ruthless, violent monsters. However, they provided much aid to the kingdom when it came to keeping its citizens under control. His citizens.

As a result of the Arcane's torturous ways, they were generally heartless. Airo supposed it was well-deserved. They were tortured first.

Xadya was unique, though. Her heart was there, even if it was just half.

He watched her like a hawk as she picked at the metal surrounding her wrists. They mustn't have been comfortable, but her powers demanded suppression.

"Will His Highness continue to stare?"

Airo snorted. "Right, then. Let's go."

Xadezhda

Airo was home. She could see him, feel him. He was there to keep her from the edge. Or distracted, at least.

Xadya was no longer Arcane, but the voices in her head rarely stopped. Subsided, sure. Not stopped. Even he could not silence them for her.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" she asked quietly, shoving a morsel between her teeth.

Airo grunted.

"Well, there's no use in silencing yourself now," she quipped. "The man is dead."

He looked at her. At other times, Xadya would have been scolded for her heartlessness. Not when it came to Airo's father, though. Not Arcane, but heartless all the same.

"I suppose you're right," Airo swallowed. "I wasn't... expecting to be home so soon."

She scoffed. Soon. Airo had been on the front for years, home only periodically and rarely for long.

"Aren't you pleased?" Airo asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm not answering that," she said sharply.

Airo sighed, hanging his head. He knew what she was after.

"I'll attend the funeral," he said quietly. "I'll take the crown. We will move on."

"As you wish, King Airo."

He was screaming. It did not take Xadya much time—two seconds maybe—before she threw back the covers and hurried to him.

Airo's hands shook in hers. His eyes were wild, darting back and forth as he fought for breath. She gave him space, but he pulled her in, matching his breathing to hers.

Their chests rose and fell together, until he was calm.

"Airo," she whispered to him, pushing brown strands from his eyes as she felt the sweat beading on his forehead. Absently, he fumbled for her chest as his eyes held her pale gaze; steady, strong.

"There's that heart," he murmured.

"Breathe with me," Xadya reminded him, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. He stared directly at his hand, resting atop her heart, feeling each and every beat.

"I was at the front," Airo said, swallowing the shakiness in his voice.

"You were at the front for years," she whispered to him.

"No," Airo said with a shake of his head, "I dreamt it. You weren't there. Jamie was, though."

"Oh," she said softly. James. Xadya had not heard his name spoken in a long while.

"Will you stay?" he asked. "Until I fall asleep?"

Her chest tightened.

She settled into Airo's bed next to him, he clutched the sleeve of her dress for comfort as his eyes fluttered open and shut. She knew his return would be rocky. She knew the war had done irreversible things.

He had been patient with her. She would be patient with him, too.

Airo would not sleep. He was calmer now, but it would be a while before he was tired. Xadya watched intently as he picked at the sheets.

"Do you think he's interested in seeing me?" Airo rarely looked so unsure of himself.

"I'm sure we could try," she said softly. Xadya hesitated before her next sentence. "I'll go with you."

Airo shook his head immediately. "I don't want you down there."

"Well, that's not for you to decide, is it?"

"Xadezhda," he warned. She could test him at times. Not tonight.

She rested her hand atop his. It was her silent apology, but she also craved his connection in that moment.

Missing Airo had been difficult. Now that he was home... it was a different battle she would fight. The voices in her head made it difficult to separate those she loved from those she didn't. She'd fight to keep her talons away from him, though.

"The war could end, you know."

He was quiet for a length of time.

"What makes you say that?" He spoke over the lump in his throat, did not hide it well.

"Your father is dead. There is no need for war."

"And what makes you think that I'm not after the same things he was? That I'm not just as heartless?"

Xadya laid her head on his shoulder as she whispered, "You are the farthest thing from heartless, Sir."

His voice was tight. "We'll see."