It was not long before Isan visited Arran once again.

Arran, who is usually enthusiastic about her visits, sits sullenly on the ground; steeling his resolve.

“Hello Arran…” she prompts, testing the waters, unsure about his sullen mood.

He looks up at her, indecision written clearly across his face. He had thought that he knew what to do. He had thought that he could carry it out. All the conviction he had mustered over the days flew straight out the window the moment he laid eyes upon Isan’s gentle face. The way her slender eyebrows drooped, the way her eyes expressed immense worry…he couldn't bring himself to part with such affable innocence. He was surprised, he couldn't part with such gentleness.. no matter how out of place the feeling was, he could not deny her endearing smile and her gentle beauty.

He could not bring himself to never witness them again.

“Nothing, come, what brings your lordly self here?” he enquired with a smile, casting away all other thoughts.

“What is it Arran?” she enquired, not letting his sudden change of mood fool her. She knew him well enough to know that he was still troubled, his facade of bravado hiding whatever unsettling thoughts he had been thinking.

Uncertainty crossed Arran’s face once again, his midnight black eyes filled with regret and hints of anger..was he angry at her? Isan thought. She did not want him to be angry at her. Unbeknownst to her, he had become the sole anchor in her otherwise uncertain life; he had become the torch that guided her stumbling self across the swampy mires of life. The very thought that she might have done something wrong frightened her. Isan was on the verge of tears.

“Do you like me Isan?”

It was the first time that Arran had not used “Lady” while addressing her. No matter how close they had grown over the last few months, no matter how often they had joked together, he had always addressed her with a title. Even during those rare moments when he would make jokes at her expense, he would never forget their difference in station.

He would never let her forget the difference in their station. Even during those fleetingly blissful moments that she had forgotten that he was a slave and she, his master, those words had always jerked her back into the harsh reality of life.

She knew immediately that this seeming lapse of etiquette was anything but unintentional.

Then there was the question itself…It was similar to the one question that had been gnawing at her conscience increasingly these past few months. Did he like her? She had always meant to ask him this. She had resolved herself to do it during countless other visits; only to give in to that nagging dread and fear that she would only meet with rejection.

Isan knew the answer to Arran’s question right away. She only hesitated because she didn't know where he was leading with this question. She didn't know how he would react to his answer. She didn't want her relationship with him to deteriorate. She would be ecstatic if her assent would improve their relationship but not she balked at the slight possibility that everything could go downhill. Nevertheless, she could not lie to him, not to the person she held dearest.

“Yes. I do.” There were a million questions she wanted to ask him. Why did he ask her this so suddenly? How was this linked to him being distraught earlier? Did she do something wrong?

She, however, chose to ask the one question that had been eating away at her conscience.

“Do you like me Arran?”

His gaze had never left hers, boring straight into her soul. She felt like he saw not just her…but everything about her. The moment she had revealed that she did indeed like him, the uncertainty returned into his eyes; along with one other emotion she saw him display rarely….happiness. She knew right then, that he was happy that she liked him; but there was also something else she did not understand.

“I love you Isan.” Arran had responded then, without a shred of doubt. It was not a revelation, it was not the statement of a mortal. It was a law of the world, inviolable…unsurmountable. He had spoken it with such conviction, such belief, that she felt herself go weak in the knees. It was the first time that she felt something like this.

Everything felt right. The world fell into place around her. It looked right for the first time in a long, lonely while.

They say that believe in something strongly enough and the universe conspires to make it happen. This moment felt like one, like it had been destined by the universe. She knew that she had wanted this desperately. She had dreamed of this on dreary nights that threatened to feed her despair and consume her in a blaze of sorrow. She had dreamed of this bliss since she had asked Arran what happiness meant to him. This was euphoria. She knew now what he meant. It had only been a statement that conveyed Arran’s sorrow and conviction. It had only been a sombre painting of his soul. She had not understood it’s meaning. Until now. She also knew, at that moment, that he had also craved this moment…that he had wished this to reality.

She leaned in towards Arran, guided by a will higher than hers, guided by a hand more powerful than any any mortal could ever hope to be.

Arran moved too, getting onto his knees from where he sat, his palm caressing Isan’s cheek. It felt like this was destined to happen, that there was no reality whatsoever that this wouldn't have happened. In all the countless planes of existence, in every single one of them, this was meant to happen…he knew this, without a shred of doubt. He knew this with his entire being.

His lips met hers then, in a tender kiss. It was gentle, like he was afraid to hurt her. A kiss soft as velvet. A kiss that bards sought to witness under the stars on a moonless night, of a princess and her knight in a glade, reunited after eons of perils, after eons of seeking each other in the stars….a kiss that poets weaved ballads around.

They broke apart after what felt an eternity, all thoughts of their surroundings forgotten in a haze of passion and bliss. All thoughts of their differences, social or otherwise, forgotten in this simple union of two beings…serene and solemn.

“I had always loved you Isan.”

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