Breakfast in Bed

The relentless waves of the ocean obliterated any remnants of that tumultuous night—a chaotic symphony of fire and disorder. Eydis leaned on the balcony railing, the salty breeze whispering secrets through her hair. The room, a rare luxury she savoured, was bathed in the soft glow of the new sun.

"Breakfast, Eydis," Princess Athena's voice, honeyed and calm, broke through the silence. Her golden eyes, usually serene, held a hint of amusement as she surveyed Eydis' bandaged arm. The air, heavy with the rich aroma of butter and jam, promised solace after the storm.

Eydis, her lips curving in a mischievous grin, countered, "Special healing treatment and breakfast in bed? What deed must I have done, dear Princess, to deserve this honour?"

"Your entertaining presence is reward enough," teased the princess, though Eydis, with a gleam in her eyes, showed no intention of conceding.

Eydis nonchalantly shrugged, settling at the tea table. The porcelain clinked as she poured rose-scented tea for the princess and a steaming cup of black coffee for herself. Sipping the bitter elixir, she purred, "First a good lab rat, now a circuit monkey? My ego, while sizeable, is slightly offended, if not for this exquisite drink."

Athena's laughter, like sunlit ripples on water, filled the room. She playfully punched Eydis' shoulder. "Enough, you incorrigible rogue! You'll give yourself another injury."

Eydis, her smile softening, leaned in. "Jokes aside," she said, her voice low, "thank you for healing me, Athena."

The princess's gaze, usually steady and unwavering, faltered for a moment. A subtle tension crackled between them, heavy with unspoken words. Then, a cryptic smile played on her lips. "I wasn't the one who saved your life, Eydis."

Eydis stretched, the bandages a comforting reminder of her resilience. "But you made living...easier," she said, the words tinged with gratitude and a hint of something deeper.

The silence that followed was thick and pregnant. Athena contemplated Eydis' words, her golden eyes searching for hidden meanings. Finally, she spoke, her voice conspiratorial. "Your secret remains safe with me."

A slow grin spreading across Eydis's face, matched the princess's tone. "How can I repay your kindness, Your Highness?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischief and something akin to understanding.

Athena, a playful smile mirroring Eydis's, leaned closer. "There's something," she began, her voice a whisper, "that you might be able to help me with."

Eydis, the thrill of shared secrets warming her like the rising sun, leaned back, her gaze meeting the princess'. "I have a feeling," she said, her voice brimming with anticipation, "that I know exactly what it is."

** 

A jagged stone skipped off the water's obsidian surface, its ripples mirroring the turmoil churning within Astra. Loneliness, an old serpent with scales like driftwood, coiled tighter around her ribs, its hiss a familiar rasp against her soul. But lately, a counterpoint had emerged, a tremor of longing she couldn't shake.

Then, warmth bloomed beside her, the scent of lavender and roses announcing Eydis' arrival. Wind-tossed hair framed mischievous eyes, a smile playing on her lips. "Reading the stars, roomie? No astrophysics degree required, just a head full of dreams." Eydis, a whirlwind of laughter defying the chill, settled beside Astra, uninvited yet somehow welcome.

Astra's lips twitched, the corner of her mouth threatening a smile. "Should I even ask what 'astrophysics' might be?"

Eydis leaned closer, eyes glinting with a vulnerability that sent a shiver down Astra's spine. "It's the dance of stars and galaxies, my Lady," she whispered, her voice barely audible against the ocean's waves. "Where we began, and perhaps, where we end."

The vastness of the idea stole Astra's breath. "Not a believer, then."

Eydis was silent for a long moment, her eyes meeting Astra's with an intensity that felt like being pulled into an abyss. "Not in the gods of men," she sighed, breathing in the salty air, her gaze unreadable.

Astra didn't pry. Amethyst eyes fell back to the constellations, mirroring the vast emptiness within. Then, a tentative voice pierced the silence, a whisper so delicate she almost deemed it a figment of her imagination. "We are but tiny sparks in the grand design, living, dying, leaving whispers in the stardust." Eydis pointed to a nebula, a defiant splash of colour against the cosmic abyss. "Look, Astra. Stars born and dying. Do you truly believe there's a higher power that creates just to destroy?"

Astra's gaze followed the curve of Eydis's slender finger to the glittering diamonds scattered across the night sky. She pondered the brunette's search, the yearning for meaning in this vastness. A playful conversation had spun into a philosophical waltz, and Astra chuckled at the unpredictability of this moonlit encounter.

"Perhaps the divine has a sense of humour," Astra murmured, her eyes softening as she saw the flicker of disappointment on Eydis's face. "Assuming you were right, but if there's no grand plan, what does that leave us?"

Eydis's amber eyes darkened, her voice mirroring the chill of the night. "Emptiness. We are merely…happenstances, glitches in the grand algorithm."

A spark ignited within Astra, a defiance against the cosmic indifference Eydis described. "What if our whispers are stories, Eydis?" she countered, her voice gaining strength. "What if our fleeting lives ripple, shaping the universe in ways we can't even imagine?"

Eydis smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She spoke with a determined tone, yet there was vulnerability in her words. "But what if it's all meaningless, Astra? What if our struggles are just like background noise in a vast cosmic storm?"

"We matter, Eydis," Astra declared, surprised by her own fervour. "The connections we've built, the life we've lived, they weren't meaningless. Just because the universe seems indifferent to our tragedies doesn't mean we give up!" She caught herself, taken aback by the intensity in her own voice. Softening her tone, she observed the widening of amber eyes in response. "We fight not because there's a promised heaven, but because it's in our nature, in the…stardust that shapes who we are."

The words hung in the air, a bridge between their souls. Eydis's eyes, a kaleidoscope of emotions, shimmered with unshed tears and a flicker of something like hope. "Perhaps that's enough," she whispered, the words barely audible against the waves.

Astra's gaze traced the liquid path of a single tear, a map to uncharted territory in the depths of Eydis's soul. As her fingertip brushed the tear, it caught the moonlight like a captured pearl, shimmering briefly before disappearing into the fabric of Eydis' skin. Eydis' hesitant smile bloomed, chasing away the last shadows from her amber eyes, igniting them with a molten glow. "Thank you, Astra," she whispered, "for everything."

"Didn't you mention that earlier?" Astra asked with feigned nonchalance, though her heart skipped a beat.

Eydis, her gaze now steady, offered a small, enigmatic smile. "Perhaps. But sometimes, things need repeating." Her voice, once playful, now held a deeper melody, like the ocean singing secrets to the moon. "Perhaps you're right. The echoes we leave in the stardust, the stories we write in the constellations, are the only divinity we need."

"And what kind of stories are you planning to write?" Astra asked, her violet gaze piercing.

"Maybe a cosmic ballad, what do you say?" The smile returned to her face, so blinding it was almost as if her emptiness had never existed.

And Astra could no longer deny her feelings.