Þitt nafn.

It had been several nights since his last vivid dream. The haunt of soaked fur and fireflies often crept into the back of his mind wondering just what it had all meant. He had never been one to have dreams that carried back to his mornings, and yet, that one had. That woman had. God. Mortal. Imagined or something in between.

Runar wasn’t sure what to make of the believed encounter. Why he would dream of such a stranger, but perhaps it was his mother who had gotten into his head. He was meant to search for a wife, to find a woman who would carry his children and future heirs, but where did one even start? It would make sense. She carried a mottled pelt similar to one who would be a Boesch.

But a woman of fiction could be no queen.

That thought would come to haunt him the night he awoke beneath fireflies once more, the gentle hush of a nearby falls drowning out all other sounds to his ears. When the high king’s eyes cracked open he would be greeted by an endless night sky with stars once again unfamiliar to his eye. Once he could excuse. But why had his mind drifted to such a place twice?

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In the days since that dream, Kaede had been unsettled. Mornings walking along the Hollow's border felt methodological, mundane, without the wonder and mystery of the man she had met in a fantasy. While she had never been the type to swoon, she couldn't help but feel some sort of pull towards him, as though his veins intersected with her own somewhere just out of reach.

It was a disconcerting feeling. Thinking about the encounter made her feel dizzy, weak. To that end, she wouldn't allow herself to labor over it during the day. At night, though, when the heartwood grew quiet, she lay in her den and wondered. It was in that pondering state that she often caught herself rushing to fall asleep. Whether it was to avoid the plague of him or get to him faster, she could not know.

This time, she awoke in a field of — her head swiveled, inhaling deeply — pansies. Yellow pansies. The sky was still a dark blanket, and an odd feeling of nostalgia bloomed in her throat. Was it him again? This place, again? Apprehension and longing both tore at her conscious in a war with no casualties.

Stirred, she rises, shuffling through the meadow with a lightened step. Cautious, curious, looking around her as though she expected him to appear from behind every peripheral unseen. When she spots a familiar figure laying in the grass a brisk walk away, she knows exactly who it is.

Quietly, she follows a path aglow with the memorable, fluttering light from before. They land upon her shoulders as she traverses the distance to reach the man waiting — was he, waiting? — before her.

She does not hide her footfalls. Kaede, in all her watchful, analytical repertoire, abandoned the instinct to take him in before announcing her presence. Perhaps it was the absence of fear here, or the need to be seen sooner rather than later.

Regardless, she cleared her throat. Stepped forward, angled her face so that she peered over his idle body.

“Veida — intruder,” she breathes, more of a confirmation to herself than an accusation.

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A sound creeps behind him before he can ponder the situation further. His ear flicks back, followed by the tilt of his head as a familiar, unfamiliar tongue is spoken hot on his ear. Stars light in recognition, stunned to silence as the mountain man's jaw slackens.

Fireflies.

Not the ones that buzz in the sky, but the ones that burn hot in eyes out of the ordinary. “You.” Likewise, his tone is unaccusatory, instead filled with some sort of wonder and surprise. Had it been real then? It was childish to think so, even if his dream felt so real; he could sense her breath. Regardless, it seemed if this was a dream or a vision of prophet, she remembered him as well.

Questions buzzed his mind, similar to the floating lights that swarmed past his warmed ears, but the only thing to come out was, “Runar did not think he would see you again.” He rarely dreamed, let alone of the same thing, but if he was some...what had she said...? Intruder. It was not unreasonable to think this might be something out of his control. Something she had done, even if he was poorly labeled as a result.

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As she peered down at him, Kaede took particular notice of how calm he had looked before she had interrupted. How long had he been laying here, staring up at the sky? She wondered if he knew why the world here was constructed as it was, since he was created alongside it. Wondered how vast his capacity for understanding anything at all was.

So far, they had only met under casual circumstances. Their encounter before had been cut short before anything meaningful had transpired. Or perhaps their simple, pointless fun had held some purpose. At least, for Kaede, a bittersweet reminder of what she might have been had the world not carved her from sharp bone and ichor.

Her expression sought some softness in the presence of him. He was not from her world, and he did not know how many times her mouth had been filled with blood.

His remark about seeing her again puzzled her. Kaede tilted her head to the left. Was this manifestation of her mind always here, still, counting stars? Did he disappear if she walked too far away? What were the bounds of their interactions? Questions she debated blurting, but settled on something else instead.

“Why do you talk like that?” She whispered, eyes rolling to the space left to the side of him. In a swift, almost soundless feat, she flopped onto her back so that her body lay opposite and parallel to his. Her head, as well, found a place beside his own. She turned to watch him, regardless of if he met her gaze or not.

“As though you are speaking outside of your own soul. Kaede doesn't understand.”

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His words are met with an angled head, to which he mirrored in mild confusion. The topic is shifted, and his lip involuntarily pulls in brief surprise. The answer is hot on his tongue, caged by teeth and flesh as she twists to lie in tandem, somehow caught on the way she moves. Their stares linger until Runar is ultimately the one who looks away.

Kaede.

So that was her name then. It was not one he recognized, nor did it sound as if it were born of his gods. A demigod was not out of the realm of possibilities, but perhaps he was looking at this all wrong. Whatever realm he walked in his sleep was not one he was familiar with, nor was her tongue. Perhaps it was time he stopped trying to make sense of it all.

There is a long pause before he speaks again, gaze set to the lights dancing over the water as his words are carried low, just loud enough to not be considered a whisper, “Could you say with certainty you would not view me differently if I chose to not?” It's a question he does not wait for to be answered, because regardless, he knew reality. “Ru—” The name is cut short with a silent slow huff, “I know how a man such as myself comes off to others. Titles and impressions rule above the soul.”

It's a backwards attempt of an answer before the mountain man's head swings to meet her eye, “I would rather be the fool than the king if it meant the chance for someone to see what lies beneath the crown.” It was much the same as his father.

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Their eyes meet, but it is only temporary. Runar prefers the expanse of mystery to a known intensity, and she cannot blame him. Kaede is well-aware that her charm was buried beneath a flame most were afraid to touch.

She lingers for a moment, but eventually tears her eyes away, too. The fireflies and constellations above almost became indistinguishable, and she watches silently as one lands on her outstretched paw.

There is somewhat of a weight that follows his reply. As though a physical force had to peel from his chest to allow him to explain. Kaede brings the paw to her face, casting an eerie glow upon her cheeks.

A man such as himself. “You don't scare me,” she murmurs, tilting her arm as the bug crawled over her ankle. He was an imposing figure, yes, but Kaede always tended to find beauty in formidable things. Back home, she would see him as a weapon to be wielded. Here, without politics or survival guiding her decisions, he was just beautiful.

And not real. She kept that small reminder close, should she forget who she truly was.

King.

The firefly on her paw gusted away. Kaede stilled, wondering if she had heard him correctly.

Crown.

Silently, she turned back to watch him. He seemed unaware of the significance of such information, and she was entirely too focused on the meaning behind it.

“King of what?” She presses, easily baited by words. Her voice has deepened, richened by her curiosity, while bordering on incredulous.

There was a word in her language that had been developed due to their interactions with the outside world. King — haihefa — had always seemed like a silly addition to their vocabulary. Victus did not honor the prestige of other kings or queens. They only recognized their own.

Kaede did not like the taste of it on her tongue. It was as though speaking it acknowledged their perceived claim.

She leaned forward, so that he could surely feel her bated breath upon his shoulder. All of this, only to be usurped by her own imagination. It was almost funny.

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“You don't scare me,”

He could almost laugh. No, perhaps not now. Perhaps not ever, but not all could say the same. Runar was not one who wished to be feared unless it was with good reason. He would much rather take a path of kindness, one that may act as a shield, but every king knew there would be a day he must wield a sword.

It is not his reasoning that draws her closer, but what lies within it. A flicker of regret presses at his mind for even mentioning it, but it just as quickly passes with one look at the glint in her eye.

Did Vanderfell have a standing here? His home may not even lie in the same realm. Instead, he opts for the safe, but true answer. The way he paused did not suggest a name but a place, “Of the Woods.” He did not correct her that his title happened to be High King, not that Vanderfell had such a plain King. To some, the difference mattered, but he did not see himself as higher than any other kind of king. “I am king where those who seek a purpose are met with the summit of fate.”

Another pause as he waited for any part of his answer to sink in with some form of acknowledgement before he quickly adds, “I would have thought you knew,” If he still bid the theory that she had brought him to this place. That he had been chosen to entertain her in some manner of way. The truth was, while he may be king, Runar was but an ordinary man. There was no reason for the gods to favor him or even draw their attention. So what chance had brought him here if not intentionally? If she did not know of him, would his mind be so cruel as to draw upon an imaginary fate?

The mountain king clears his throat as he pushes the spiral of thoughts out for the time being, “Not that it matters now. As far as I see, here, I am king of nowhere.”

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She finds a little humor in his way of describing it. After a small pause, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath — releasing it in a melody.

“Runar, King of the woods and nowhere at all,” Kaede mimics in a childish hymn. Her prior concerns (if they were even strong enough to be called such) consequentially melt away.

Bumping his side, she continues, her voice trailing off into a rhyme — “Mighty and strong, mysterious and tall.” Her right eye cracks open to glance at him, searching his face for the reaction she wanted.

While she was making light of it, his comment does linger in the back of her mind. Clearing her throat, she settles back down so that their shoulders barely touch.

The touch is deliberate, although gentler than the one that relinquished it.

For someone molded from dreams and dust, he was warm. A thought crossed her mind to test just how real he was.

“What if I was Queen of somewhere and nowhere, too?” Kaede hums enigmatically. “What if I didn't like to share?”

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