Music seeped out of the arched windows of the great hall, an orchestra of flutes, harps, and other instruments King couldn't call by name. The band played a merry tune, and the human pairs turned on the marble dance floor with wide, sweeping steps. All these hearts burst with cheer and the numb joy of a glass of wine to many. With the Holy War reduced to a terrible memory, the guests of the party had every reason to indulge in the conveniences of peace: a careless dance, an overabundance of food and beverages paid for by the royals of Liones, a night devoid of worries. King's head spun from all the delight. He was still learning to control his ability to read the hearts of others, and in the crowded space of the ball room, the amount of pleasure screaming from the guests' hearts overwhelmed him.

Outside, on the wide terrace hugging the palace's gardens, his thoughts cleared in the cool of the night. A breeze smelling of grass and conifer brushed his cheeks and reminded him of home. The park within Liones' limestone walls hardly measured hundred yards in length, but the ghostly scent of a forest still lingered in the air, like a faint memory of the time when the plains of Liones had housed a massive woodland instead.

King took a deep breath and let the tension from inside the grand hall fall from his body. As impressive as the forest of pillars and the detailed carvings of plants and animals were in the light of a hundred candles, he preferred the sounds and scents of a real forest. The whisper of leaves when a gust awoke them from slumber, the tapestry of bluebells and anemones and uncounted other flowers, the unique bark of a cherry tree under his fingertips.

Here in the garden, King could pretend to walk past the tree trunks of his homeland.

As much as he enjoyed the chance to celebrate with the Captain and the other Sins the news of Elizabeth's pregnancy, he missed the Fairy King's Forest. He missed the voices of the trees, the chatter of the Fairies, his people, and he missed the warmth of the morning sun when its rays trickled through the canopy to wake him.

Why had he grown this new kind of attachment after the end of the war? King had looked back at his home with fondness during his days as a member of the Seven Deadly Sins as well, but this aching whenever political matters forced him to leave was new.

And no matter how often he contemplated, he failed to find the reason why.

The soft grass under his feet allowed King to traverse the garden in silence, past the box tree hedges and rose beds until the music and laughter from inside dissipated in the night. The flood of emotions quieted to a gentle whisper in the back of his mind – only one heart remained as a beacon of clarity, a light to tear King forward. The sight of a figure on the lawn ahead silenced all other thoughts.

The female silhouette commanded the scenery, one hand outstretched towards the stars in a perfect line with her extended leg. The moonlight made her skin shimmer like peonies against the dark of the garden walls as she waited for an inaudible cue.

And then she began to dance.

She broke the perfect line to pirouette, slow at first, as if she needed her body to remember these patterns. Soon her movements became faster, gained more confidence as her feet chased each other across the grassy stage to a tune only she could hear. Her toes described perfect circles in the air with every turn, and whenever she jumped, she seemed to fly a heartbeat before she continued her performance. Her hands weaved complex patterns in the air, driven by a rhythm and a flow King didn't understand. His eyes followed her every move, magnetized by the dancer's beauty in the silence of the night. The leaves of the nearby foliage leaned forward, lured by the beauty of the dance, and the earth itself hummed every time she placed a foot on its surface.

She spun faster and faster as her performance neared its finale. Her brown locks danced around her head. And if King hadn't loved this woman with all his heart already, he would have fallen for her in an instance.

Diane remained unaware of her spectator and shifted into slower patterns with sweeping steps until King cleared his throat. Startled, she tripped before lowering into a defensive pose. In less than a second, she had traded the grace of a dancer for the grace of a warrior. A Giant queen her people should be proud of. But when Diane recognized the translucent shapes on King's wings as the light of the moon gleamed through them, she straightened and smiled.

"The last time you cleared your throat like that, you were about to propose to me," Diane said and hopped across the lawn to wrap her arms around King's neck.

"I wouldn't mind asking you again," King said. With the shadows cast over the garden, her wonderful violet eyes looked almost black. Only the stars painted sparks into them. "You are so beautiful when you dance. Why don't you want to do it inside too, where everyone can admire you?"

Diane turned her head in an attempt to hide her burning cheeks behind the vail of one of her pigtails. But with her hands folded behind his neck, the result was rather lackluster. "They would all stare at me. I don't know the dances they do. All these humans look so pretty in their silk dresses and with the precise dance patterns all of them have memorized so well. I wouldn't fit in."

"I don't either," King said. "All the candles in their golden chandeliers look nice, but compared to the stars out here, they are cheap imitations. In the light inside, I don't feel as real as I do outside. It's so unlike the Fairy King's Forest… does this make any sense?"

"I know what you mean. I can't feel the warm presence of the earth inside buildings the same way I do here. All this marble and alabaster and granite is beautiful, and I'll never get tired of following their patterns with my eyes. But they don't talk to me. Not like the earth back home does."

"Two friends we are if we can't even attend the Captain's celebration for one evening. I'm sure he would have liked to ask you for a dance."

Diane chuckled. "I doubt that, he only had eyes for Elizabeth throughout the whole evening. He barely made it through his speech without jumping back onto her lap. But what about you? Are there any rivals I have to look out for? That cutesy blond girl in the green dress?"

"What girl?" King asked, and Diane pulled away to award his inattentiveness with a nudge to his shoulders and a shake of the head.

"She had been staring at you ever since we entered the hall. I think she wanted to hand you a drink, but Ban pried the glass right out of her hand."

King frowned. "I don't remember her. And in any case, I doubt she or anyone else for that matter would ask the Fairy King for a dance."

Diane's eyes lit up as an idea sprung to her mind. The excitement complimented her cheeks so well, almost as well as a blush. But before King could put his affection into words, Diane took his hand and pulled him forward, away from the rhododendron bushes and back to her dance floor. She raised the hand holding his and placed the other one on his shoulder.

"Challenge accepted," she said and looked up to him with an expectant gaze.

"Wha-what?"

King's mind left him hanging. For several seconds, he stood frozen in place, one hand intertwined with Diane's while she waited for him to take the lead. He thought about how much she had to freeze in the light dress he had sown for her. About how much the slim gold circlet complimented her face. In fact, he thought about anything but the right way to position his feet in order to initiate a dance.

"The excuse 'I can't dance' doesn't fly. I know for a fact that you can." Tired of waiting, Diane placed King's free hand at her waist and took the first step forward.

King stumbled backwards to avoid their bodies crashing into each other, but before he could tumble further, a spin initiated by Diane pulled him in the opposite direction. Their first steps reeked of hesitance, of the clumsy attempts lovers make when they are still uncertain about the affection of the other. The affair had more in common with a battle. King evaded Diane's forward movements, and they always kept one foot of distance between them, a back and forth that carried them across the lawn. But thanks to the familiar strength of her presence, the presence he had been drawn towards for centuries, King's hands relaxed, and his feet took over for him. Diane handed over control with a smile, and from one moment to the next King guided her through a unique variant of the dance they had watched the humans perform inside. They adapted a few patterns, the brief moment to part as far as their intertwined fingers allowed, but their spins were narrower, and the strict combinations soon disappeared in pure instinct.

King and Diane turned and turned, rotated around the gravitational pull of the other like two blinding stars. King had rarely been this grateful to have met the woman in his arms, so long ago when he had known nothing except for his name and the love he held for the girl that had saved him. The world beyond her face blurred to shadows.

Breathless but too ecstatic to notice, King spun Diane, and she used the extra swing to land in his arms, a smile wide as the world on her lips. They pulled closer still until the space between them ceased to exist.

They became one.

Diane's joy became King's joy. King's rapid heartbeat became Diane's heartbeat.

The silent music they danced to slowed to its final notes, and the pair swung across the stage for the closing steps. Diane rested her head against King's shoulder; her hair tickled his cheek. He pulled her closer, relished the touch of her skin.

The dance ended, but the two remained engulfed in the presence of each other, and neither dared to move, afraid to disturb the beauty of the moment. King took in Diane's scent and smiled to himself. Daisies. The flower he had grown to love when he and Diane had shared their days in a cave by the riverside, the flower he had grown to hate during the infinite hours in prison, caged by the knowledge that the girl he loved had forgotten him, the flower he had fallen in love with all over again when Diane had reentered his life against all odds.

Now she was his. And they would never part for as long as their heartbeats sounded on.

King placed a loose strand behind Diane's ear. "I love you."

"I love you, King. More than anyone else in this whole world and all the other realms on top. If you ever have doubts about it, just remember this moment."

King would never have these doubts again, he was certain of it. Diane's heart radiated with an affection as pure as her words.

And King realized why he had grown this new kind of affection for his home. He didn't long for the voices of the trees or the warmth of the morning sun or even the tapestry and scent of a hundred flowers. He longed for Diane's voice, for her warmth, for her scent. She was his home, his everything. After seven hundred years he should have learned this truth.

"I want to go back to the Forest with you," King said. "I want to forget all these people in the lights of their chandeliers and only be with you."

"You can be so greedy," Diane said and tiptoed to place a kiss on his cheek. "I want to be with you too, until we both are old and grey and our great-grandchildren play on a clearing around us. But we have time. So much more than all these people inside have. I don't want to break anything by moving too fast. You know what they say about a Giant between porcelain market stalls."

"The human who came up with that saying clearly had no idea what they were talking about. You are more graceful and careful than anyone else I know. But maybe you are right. Maybe we should enjoy the company of the others to the fullest."

As long as we still can. Neither of them dared to mention this condition, but the thought weighed on both their minds. King felt the worry clawing inside Diane's heart like a twin of his own concern. But these fears were distant, their shadows had no staying power tonight. Tonight, they had every reason to look into the future with joy and excitement. Because of the tiny light of life within Elizabeth they had come here to celebrate and that would soon be born. And because of the tiny light King and Diane had of their own.

Life moved on. And for once, King knew no reluctance in accepting this truth.

In silent agreement, King and Diane strolled back towards where the party filled the air with the short-lived laughter of humans and the intoxicating scent of wine and too many people cramped in a place too small. With Diane by his side, King managed to shut out the overload of joyous emotions and only focused on her hand in his. The skin was hardened from battle but her grip was gentle.

At the edge of the terrace, where the candlelight painted squares onto the limestone, King stopped and turned to Diane. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Everything," Diane said.

"Ask me for another dance inside."

Diane smiled and made the first step onto the dancefloor. "I'll make sure of it."

This is for you, Mars. It took me forever, but I finally made it.

The song 'Last Night of the World' from the musical Miss Saigon (the sweet saxophone version) was hopelessly stuck in my head while writing this, and the title draws inspiration from there. I hope you enjoyed this short piece.