A carriage came to fetch Mero and Mandarine at dusk, its wheels gliding softly over the damp cobblestones of the capital. Two majestic black horses, gleaming under the flickering lanterns, pulled the carriage through a quiet street, their hooves clacking in a steady rhythm that seemed to accompany the still-vibrant beats of their hearts from the hot air balloon ride. The cool night air seeped through the slightly open windows, mingling the scent of damp wood and faded flowers with the lingering warmth of their exceptional day. Entwined on the velvet seat, they remained immersed in the halo of their aerial adventures, their fingers interlaced as if to hold onto the suspended magic a little longer.
The carriage stopped in front of Mero's apartment with an almost ceremonial slowness, the horses snorting white puffs into the growing darkness. Mero stepped out first, extending a hand to Mandarine, who followed with instinctive grace, her light steps barely touching the ground as if she were still floating. The apartment door, massive and adorned with delicate ironwork, stood before them, and Mero felt a lump form in his throat. The wait was almost over—tomorrow, she would leave, and this evening would be their last refuge before the farewell. In the entrance, on a carefully set polished wooden table, lay a small box, a discreet case containing a final gift for Mandarine, a present charged with emotion that he had taken days to prepare.
He guided Mandarine inside, closing the door behind them with a gentleness that betrayed his desire to preserve this moment. The apartment opened onto a hushed atmosphere, the soft light of oil lamps casting golden reflections on the cream silk-covered walls. A subtle scent of wax and ancient wood floated in the air, mingled with a floral touch—white roses in a vase on the mantelpiece, a detail Leila must have added before their return. Without a word, Mero walked towards the table, his steps echoing softly on the polished parquet floor. He placed his hands on the box, a simple yet refined packaging, his fingers brushing the red satin ribbon that wrapped around it. His gaze, filled with infinite tenderness, met Mandarine's, who watched him with silent curiosity.
When he lifted the lid, a sparkle burst forth, almost supernatural, illuminating the room with a discreet yet stunning glow. The pendant lay in a black velvet case, its pure gold chain catching the light like a river of soft fire. Two diamonds intertwined—a fiery red, deep as a living ember, and a brilliant green, fresh as a forest after the rain. These rare stones, extracted from the depths of the Tempelune mountain range after years of labor, seemed to vibrate with a life of their own, reflecting every spark of ambient light. Mero gazed at the jewel for a moment, his heart beating in rhythm with its beauty and what it represented. It was a "You and Me" pendant, perhaps a classic, but of such exquisite craftsmanship that it transcended the cliché—a tangible symbol of their love, rare and indomitable.
He took a deep breath, his voice soft and trembling with emotion, breaking the silence. "This pendant, Mandarine, is us—you and me. The red diamonds represent the passion that burns within me for you, a fire you ignited without even knowing it. The greens are the promise of a life together, prosperity, a renewal that I want to build with you. I know it might seem ordinary, but these stones... they are as unique as what we share." Mandarine approached, her eyes widening with wonder, captivated by the jewel's sparkle. She reached out a trembling hand, brushing the diamonds as if afraid to break their magic, and a charged silence settled, their breaths mingling in the warm air.
Flashback: He remembered their first encounter, that dusty shop on the pirate island where she had drawn him in with a mischievous smile, her lips whispering an enigmatic kiss. The dark alleys, the rough hands seizing him, and her, murmuring in an unknown language, her eyes gleaming with a possessiveness he hadn't understood then. "I have a little prince all to myself," she had said, her gentle caress masking a domination that had terrified him. But here, in this light-filled apartment, that memory took on a new hue—what had been a capture became a mutual conquest, a love he hadn't seen coming.
"I've never held anything so precious," she finally murmured, her voice a delicate whisper filled with raw emotion. Her words floated in the air like a caress, and Mero felt a smile form on his lips, a mix of joy and vulnerability. He took her hands in his, their fingers intertwining with familiar warmth. "You deserve the world, Mandarine," he said, his voice trembling with heartfelt sincerity. "Since you entered my life, you've illuminated everything—I'll do everything to give it back to you."
She looked up at him, and in her gaze, he saw a sea of emotions—gratitude, love, a hint of sadness at the imminent farewell. Without a word, she placed a light kiss on his hand, a gesture so tender it seemed to seal a silent promise. Then, with almost reverential delicacy, she took the pendant and fastened it around her neck. The jewel rested against her skin like a fallen star, its red and green diamonds sparkling against her collarbone, a radiant fusion of their souls.
Mero remained captivated, mesmerized by the scene—the way the pendant seemed made for her, a sparkle that enhanced her indomitable beauty. "I never want it to leave your neck," he murmured, his voice barely audible, like a prayer. Mandarine looked at him, a firm gleam in her eyes, and replied with a soft yet unyielding certainty: "It will never leave my neck." Their gazes locked in a silent communion, a moment so pure it seemed to defy time itself.
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They embraced then, their bodies seeking each other with an intensity that erased the coming hours. The bedroom became their sanctuary, the silk and wood walls fading away to leave only their presence. Mero felt Mandarine's warmth against him, her soft breath on his neck, and he caressed her dark hair, its strands slipping through his fingers like a cascade of obsidian. The night unfolded in absolute intimacy, a refuge against the inevitable separation that loomed. They fell asleep entwined, their breaths mingling in a silent harmony, as if their souls refused to detach.
Flashback: He remembered the island garden, the wedding dress she wore, her cold and triumphant eyes as she claimed him. "You are mine now," she had said, and he had struggled, invoking his age, Master Antonin, a reprieve wrested in panic. But here, in this gentle embrace, that memory softened—what had been a constraint became a truth he cherished. He loved her, not despite their past, but because of it, a love forged in storms and challenges.
The irony was not lost on him. Once, he had dreaded this imposed bond, this audacious girl who had upended his life. He remembered the inn's roof, his furtive steps under the stars, his last kiss before departure— "You will come back, won't you?" she had asked, and he hadn't known how to respond. But now, nestled against her, he couldn't imagine a life without her. What had begun as captivity had transformed into a reciprocal passion, a tender and possessive love that had swept away his fears like the wind chases clouds.
Morning rose, a soft light filtering through the linen curtains, caressing the room's contours with an almost unreal tenderness. Mero awoke in a half-dream, his thoughts floating between dream and reality, Mandarine's weight against him anchoring every sensation. She still slept, her peaceful face softening the lines of that strength he admired so much. He remained still, savoring this calm before the storm, knowing these moments were numbered.
Servants entered discreetly, their hushed steps barely breaking the silence. One prepared a bath in the adjoining room, the scent of lavender and steam rising gently, while another laid out a dress for Mandarine—a deep green fabric, a nod to her marine origins. Mero watched them with a pang in his heart, each gesture heralding the inevitable departure. He rose, leaving Mandarine to rest a little longer, and approached the window. The capital stretched out under a pale sky, its streets awakening in a distant murmur, and he felt a soft melancholy wash over him.
Mandarine finally awoke, her eyes opening slowly to welcome the light. A tender smile formed on her lips when she saw him, and for a moment, their gazes met in a charged silence—an echo of their flight, their night, everything they had shared. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep, and Mero smiled in return, unable to respond otherwise. The servants bustled around her, helping her prepare with discreet gentleness, and Mandarine rose, her natural grace illuminating the room like a flame in the darkness.
Ready to face the day, Mandarine returned to the bedroom, the green dress hugging her form with a wild elegance. The light reflected off the pendant at her neck, its diamonds sparkling like captive stars, and Mero felt his heart tighten. She was ready to leave, and yet, a gleam of sadness lingered in her eyes, a melancholy she hid behind a firm smile. They exchanged few words, each phrase tinged with softness and contained pain.
He approached her, taking her hand in his, their fingers intertwining one last time. "I will be here, waiting for your return," he murmured, his voice calm yet filled with heartfelt sincerity. Mandarine nodded, her eyes gleaming with a silent promise. "And I will come back for you," she replied, her voice firm despite the emotion coursing through her. They stood like that for a moment, their gazes locked in a communion of hope and tenderness, then she turned away gently, her slow steps guiding her towards the door.
Flashback: He remembered the seven-masted ship surging from the waves, her father coming to reclaim her. She had climbed the gangway, a tear rolling down her cheek, and he had clasped his pendant, a silent "goodbye" etched in his heart. "This is not goodbye," she had said then, and he clung to that now as an eternal truth.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, and Mero stood alone, motionless, the silence crashing over him like a slow wave. He approached the window, watching the carriage disappear down the deserted street, taking Mandarine towards a horizon he couldn't follow. A deep ache washed over him, but it was mingled with infinite gratitude—for her, for what they had built, for this love that defied distances.
The hours passed in a strange calm, the room seeming to echo her presence. Mero sat on the bed, his fingers brushing the covers where she had slept, and took out the dagger he had given her on the island—an exchange sealed under the stars, a vow he still carried. He placed it beside the empty box of the pendant, two relics of a love that refused to fade.
He approached the table where a quill and parchment lay, and began to write—not a letter for her, not yet, but a tale of their flight, of that night, of every moment he wanted to engrave before time erased them. The words flowed, clumsy but sincere, a refuge against the void that threatened to engulf him. He described the infinite sky, her laughter in the wind, the sparkle of diamonds against her skin, and that promise they had made—a return, a future.
Night fell again, the lamps extinguishing one by one, and Mero lay down, Mandarine's pendant dancing in his mind. He knew the routine would soon resume, that his duties at the imperial school would call him back to order. But a part of him remained with her, above the clouds, in that clearing under the lanterns, in every moment where she had transformed his life. This was not goodbye, but a see you later—a certainty that carried him, soft and unyielding, like the eternal sparkle of a rare diamond.
