“Do you think things will ever get better?” she echoed, her eyes flickered to him for a second then back at the scenery ahead. The hill gave a wide view of the lands below. Two castles loomed ahead; so close yet separated by a thick forest.
Harry sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to reply. His heart thumped in his chest. The moon always helped him calm but at that moment, its effect wore off leaving him to the mercy of the dreadful feeling creeping over him like vines.
He turned to the girl beside him. Perla had wrapped her bright white hair in a large turban. She could easily pass as a peasant in the sack-like cloth she wore, yet her smooth milky skin glowed under the moonlight; her hazel eyes made her beauty more pronounced. He’d always loved how her full lips curled up whenever she seemed anxious, her nose would follow suit too.
“Will it?” she asked again.
Her eyes bored into his, seeking answers. She shivered under his scrutinising gaze. His black hair remained a mess on his head. It accentuated his dark skin perfectly. If she loved one thing about him, it was his big brown eyes that held unreadable emotions. A shiver ran down her spine as she caught him bite his lips softly. She looked away.
The moon gazed down on the two lovebirds. It was a sight to see; the Prince of the Ironland and the Princess of the Blessed Isle sitting right next to each other without bearing the animosity that ran deep in the veins of their father and kinsmen.
“We will make it better,” he voiced. His hand crawled to hers. He squeezed it gently, a smile lit his face. “In the presence of the moon and the thousands of star staring at us,” he glanced across the starry horizon, “I promise to make it better.”
“So do I.” She rested her head on his shoulder, basking in the serene atmosphere.