Zèklè

This was all so terribly, horribly strange, and poor Zero had no experience on which to base his actions, or to gauge her response. He would have been nervous, desperately nervous, except that when Själ laughed she laughed with him, not at him (he hoped), and that made his chest swell with something complicated, yet pleasant. Laughing was good. Laughing was familiar. Slowly the lightning-backed boy relaxed, his frenzied heartbeat growing a little bit slower and a little bit louder as her radiant smile blossomed, bright enough to match his own.

The boy danced in place on iron hooves as he waited for his princess' answer, sunbeam eyes bright and enthusiastic, tailfeathers glinting blue in the light. He wanted her to say yes- and she did, in a way, though her answer left the boy quieter than usual, a troubled thought running through his mind.

But she was off before he could reply, her tail dancing (so pretty) in the breeze, hips swaying (holy Sun God how had he not known about hips before?) neatly. For a minute he could only stare, dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape and brain empty - or maybe too full. Why were girls so pretty? That wasn't fair, especially when he wasn't handsome, when he was barely more than a pile of black and brown fur on stilts, still awkward in his youth, with a too-big wing and a too-short tail. For all his smiles and all his joy he was really just a kid with one wing in the end, and she was a princess, and what chance did he even have, and-

-and she was quickly getting ahead of him.

Zero blinked, his face growing powerfully hot, and thanked whatever gods were listening from the sky and the sea that she hadn't been looking because oh my Sun that would have been embarrassing! Scrambling inelegantly, the boy threw his wing over his back and tried to pull himself into a trot-canter, jumping to catch up with the taller Själ before falling into step beside her.

Panting, the boy finally voiced the thought that had been troubling him. "I don't know if I wanna be a King," he answered, thinking of Gaucho and how angry and busy the Sultan always seemed. "I think king's have a lot of pressure on 'em. I'd rather be a knight, an' not have to worry 'bout what people think of me, an' have more time- y'know, to spend with the people I love."

"...people I love."

"...people I ... love."

"...I love."

"...love..."

Oh, gods, did I really just say that?

"But I'd be your prince, if you really wanted!" Nope nope nope. He was only making things worse. Desperate now, he remembered her other comment, latching onto it like a drowning tortoise might cling to a giraffe-shaped floatie. "But yeah I have sisters!" he exclaimed wildly, "An' they have 'panions, which Ma was upset about 'cus she doesn't like 'panions even though I don't see what's so bad about 'em. Ouch!" He stumbled on a loose rock, splaying his wing out toward her as he struggled to regain his balance. The path was steep.

"I dunno, though- at first I was angry 'bout havin' sisters, 'cus nobody told me or anything. But then I was happy 'cus, I dunno, it was kinda cool bein' a big brother. But now... I dunno. They're weird, kinda, an' sometimes I feel like I don't understand them." His lips twisted, a conflicted expression crossing his face before it cleared and the boy's shoulders rolled in a gentle shrug. "But that's OK, I'll figure it out! Whatabout you, you got any brothers or sisters or..." boyfriends? he silently added, but for once Zero held his tongue, holding himself to a shy, hopeful look which he directed at the filly, his trademark grin peeking around his inky lips.