…Of course, Yves can’t just have a simple walk for himself. 

Of course not. 

He’d barely walked a few minutes before the sound of voices started drifting towards him. 

Why can’t he just walk in peace? Why would there be a pair of guards patrolling the hallways right this moment? It’s not as if they’ll be of any use, not when he’ll soon have his personal guard at his side. Even without her, they weren’t of much use either when that assassin had already slipped in past security in the first place. 

Ugh. He cannot wait until he has more competent people at hand.

Yves stares in the direction of the incoming voices with irritation.

It's not the end of the world if they see him. Despite his relative lack of power, Yves is still a prince, and this is his building. Needless to say, he can walk around anywhere he pleases. Still, the thought of meeting anyone else when his nerves are so frayed is… unappealing, to say the least.

If nothing else, then he’d like to avoid attention when his current appearance is so disheveled. When he is so liable to lashing out once more.

No, he thinks, stepping closer to a small corner of the hallway, eyes fixed on the approaching lantern light. He doesn’t want to be found at all. Not tonight.

The world sharpens into focus as Yves reaches deep inside him, the surrounding shadows shivering for a brief moment as they await his command. He doesn’t need them to be corporeal, not this time. This time, the aim is to hide and not harm. Before he can wrap them around him, however, the hair on the back of his neck raises in warning. 

There’s someone watching him.

Who—? 

Yves turns, and nearly screams. 

What the hell?

In the darkness of the night, the figure hanging upside down from the rafters is nearly invisible to the average person. Yves would’ve had trouble spotting her had he not been blessed with the ability to see clearly in the dark. As it is, she looks like something from a nightmare, a dark mass simply swaying impossibly high above the ground. Even at this distance, her pink eyes stand out clearly, surprise stark on her face at being spotted before she hurriedly presses a finger to her lips. 

Erica. 

What in the world is she doing here? More importantly, how’d she get up there?

Yves opens his mouth, about to hiss out his questions when Erica shifts in place, eyes flicking behind him where footsteps are growing louder. 

Great. 

He could still wrap himself in the shadows and slip away from view, but Erica glances back and forth between him and the incoming guards, clearly hesitating before making a decision.

Unfolding from the rafters like some demented bat hanging from her feet, she reaches for him, hand held out in obvious invitation. 

Yves stares at it, incredulous. No way. Surely she isn’t going to pull him up there. How is she even clinging onto such a precarious place? He’d already had a way to hide from the guard’s attention, one that is far safer and more reliable than being hauled up and dangling so far above the ground. Of course, it’s not as if Erica is aware of that particular bit. 

“This place is so creepy at night, I swear to god.”

Yves jolts at the nearing voices, and in that split second, makes his own decision. 

He grabs her hand, and Erica quickly yanks him up to join her with a pleased look. They both settle along the roof, where they are partially hidden from view from the incoming people. The height at which he is pulled so easily too would be worrying if it hadn’t been for the tight grip around his waist. Still, they are much too close for comfort from overhead the guards, and they both still as the lantern light grows near.

Pressed so close to her, every movement comes with a delicately herbal, almost floral scent to her, one he can’t quite place. How distracting. 

Yves shifts in place, trying to subtly move away from it, but he underestimates how slick the roof has become, as exposed to the elements as it is, and his foot slips off. In the silence, the rasping sound is deafening, and he holds his breath when the guards pause. 

“Did you hear that?”

They look around themselves. Before they could glance up at their hiding spot, Yves wraps an arm around Erica, yanking her closer to him as he hastily pulls the shadows around them just a bit. Just enough to fully hide them from view.  Erica twitches as their hiding area darkens unnaturally, and he has to dig his fingers into her side before she could do anything stupid.

“Stay still,” he hisses in her ear, attention fixated on the guards below. This kind of magic works best with minimal movement, and even he would have trouble hiding a squirming loudmouth like her.

As expected, the guard’s gaze goes straight towards them, before sliding away. All they would see would be a dark blur, drawn by some instinct to avert their eyes elsewhere. He shakes his head, shivering. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“I told you, this place is haunted.”

They eventually pass underneath them, and it’s only after a few minutes of silence after the sound of footsteps have long faded away that Yves begins to relax. He should’ve done this from the start, instead of following some weirdo up onto the roof. Speaking of which…

“That was close, huh.”

Yves flinches at the whisper brushing past his ear, an eerie echo of his nightmare. No. No more blood; at least, not for tonight. He shoves her away from him, heedless of their current distance from the ground.

“Let go of me!”

“Woah, hey, watch out!” The movement is enough to have Erica scramble for better purchase on the roof. When he continues to struggle in her grip, too desperate to get the phantom stickiness off his skin, she finally relents and hurriedly leaps to the ground with him in her arms. Bewildered, she stares as he rips free, gaining some much needed distance. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? You’re the one hanging up there like some damn demon from hell.” Yves rubs at his throat, and the unmarred skin there does little to reassure him. It’s alright. There is no need to gasp for air, no gaping wound for him to cling to. His hands are slick with sweat, and not blood.

He’s still alive. Erica is still alive, and if he would just pluck up the courage to look at her, he’d see her standing before him, hale and hearty, if not baffled at his behavior. It was just a nightmare. “How’d you get up there anyways?”

He has to look up. Has to confirm his rationale with his own eyes. 

Just. A. Nightmare.

With a deep breath, he turns to her. 

Erica stares back at him, no blood staining her clothes, no sword in hand. Just a young girl with secrets held tight to her chest, with nothing but confusion and mild concern in her expression.

“Are you alright, now? I didn’t think you’d be afraid of heights.”

“I am not. Anyone would be shocked to see a pair of weird eyes staring at them from above in the middle of the night.”

“Weird?” Erica puffs up in offense. “If anyone has weird eyes, it’d be you.”

Yves stares at her incredulously, so dumbfounded that his distress starts to melt away. Is she stupid? Blind? All of the above? “My eyes are black. That’s as common as it gets.”

Erica stutters. “Well, yes. But it’s not all black.”

Was she talking about his pupils?

“They’re just red. It’s a lot more normal compared to pink eyes.” Yves shakes his head before he gets too caught up in this inane conversation. There’s no use talking to a wall about who was more normal. Which he absolutely was. “Enough. Why were you up there in the first place? How’d you get up there?”

“I climbed?” Her words are confused, as if he had asked something stupid. As if anyone could climb that high with so little footholds. He could have her executed for the sheer disrespect, he thinks. There’d be plenty of reasons to do so, too. Heedless of his inner thoughts, Erica shrugs, as if it were obvious. “No one ever looks up.”

In the back of his head, he notes how much more settled he feels now. How the ridiculous exchange has thoroughly distracted him from his distress. Was that her intention? Or is she just naturally idiotic? 

Yves turns to squint at her in suspicion, and pauses. He hadn’t noticed before, but with the moonlight pooling over the two of them, he can clearly see the redness of her eyes, as if they had been rubbed raw. 

Has she been…crying?

The thought stuns him with the impossibility. He hadn’t thought she was human enough to cry, so larger than life was she. Then again, he hadn’t thought it possible for her to die either. Still, what could possibly reduce Erica to tears? It hadn’t even been an entire day since she’s landed here. 

"What are you doing outside at this time of night?" Why does it look like she’s been crying? 

Erica freezes. "What are you?"

He looks at her incredulously. This fool. "I live here."

“Shouldn’t you be asleep though?” Erica says, as if she is not also awake at this hour. "Anyways, I just wanted to find some bandages." 

At his questioning glance, she raises her hands. There’s a few cuts and scrapes on them, relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Most importantly, the beginnings of a lovely bruise curls around her wrist, hints of swelling already present. 

The knights had stomped on it while holding her down earlier, he remembers abruptly; none too gently at that. Still, it was nowhere near enough for her to shed tears over. “Figured it’d help prevent it from getting worse. I’ll be right as rain though!”

Yves studies her for a moment longer. He hadn’t realized before how different she looks compared to their previous life. Besides the obvious younger appearance, there was the noticeable lack of sheer exhaustion hanging over her shoulders, as if she were carrying an invisible burden that weighed down her every step. When did quiet resignation replace the steely resolve he sees now? The desperation? What changed? 

Or has she always been this way?

…It’s useless to continue this train of thought. At the end of the day, he has never paid enough attention to her to ever know. The Erica of the past has long died. What matters now, is that the current version never shares the same fate. That they both change their fates.

The longer he silently scrutinizes her, the more Erica squirms. Hmm. She’s more expressive this time around, too. Most likely due to her youth. A terrible weakness to have in the palace, but one he’s tempted to let her keep. How else would he unravel her thoughts? “Uh, so. I’ll…go? G’night!”

With each word, she starts to back away, before turning and slowly walking off, steadily speeding up the further she gets. He can’t hear her footsteps, he realizes, even as brisk as her pace is. The only ones he can hear are his, just as steadily following behind hers.

This isn’t what Yves expected when deciding to take a late night walk, but he doesn’t mind this change in plan at all. Not when Erica is looking furtively over her shoulder at him, turning corners and making loops around the place in an attempt to shake him off.  It’s…probably a little creepy for him to be doing this, he realizes belatedly. 

Well, it’s odd for her to be skulking about the palace in the middle of the night too. At least he lives here.

He does wonder how long it’ll take for her to crack.

“Why are you following me?”

Apparently only a few more loops. A lot more impatient this time around as well. Fascinating how much difference a decade or so of experience can make in one's personality. What will stay the same and what will change? The thought of having a front row seat to witness it is rather exciting. 

“Is it so odd for me to walk around my own palace?”

Erica pulls a reluctant expression. “...I guess not.” 

Then that settles it. “I’m just making sure you don’t get into trouble. You do have to admit how strange it is for you to be sneaking about in the middle of the night, new as you are. What if the guards catch you? It’d be best if I were here as well, right?” 

“You were the one who almost got caught by them. I was perfectly fine before.” Erica pauses. “How did you know I was there, anyways? I don’t think I made a sound.”

How is he to explain his familiarity with his shadows? How aware he is of each and everything that rests inside of them? Yves has never planned on exposing his little trump card, not when he has so little cards in his hands already. 

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re just shit at hiding.”

Any hopes of his distraction working is quickly dashed when Erica peers at him. 

“Does it have anything to do with your…” She waves her hands in a vague gesture. “That?”

Ah, right. He had used his abilities in front of her, even if it was only minor. 

Yves sighs. Oh well. She was always going to learn of it sooner or later, especially if she stays by his side as long as he planned for. Raising his hand, he lets a few dark tendrils curl around his fingers. It could almost be mistaken for smoke, had it not been for the undeniably unnatural way it twists and dances above his palm. “My magic? Yes.”

Erica stills at the sight, eyes locked onto his hands. “Oh. You’re just the same.”

Just the same? As what? As who?

Yves squints suspiciously at her. What does that mean? Why does it always feel like there’s an odd weight behind her words? The more he pays attention to her, the more oddities start to stack up.

Despite his expectations, she doesn’t ask any more questions. Magic is an exceedingly rare thing, and yet he sees no surprise from her. Instead, she has this odd expression on her face, some mixture of simmering anxiety and bitterness. Of recognition and fear. 

Normally, he’d press her for answers, but there’s a sense of fragility to her, as if one wrong word will send things careening to the floor. Pushing things to their limit and beyond is a habit of his, always curious of how far he could push before things break. This time, however, he hesitates and relents. Perhaps now wouldn’t be the best time to push for an explanation.

Yves clears his throat, catching her attention.

“Anyways, don’t you have bandages to find?”

Erica perks up, taking the distraction for what it was. “Oh, right!”

She turns and starts briskly walking. Yves stares at her retreating back, before following after her once again.

What was that reaction?