From that moment, it was hard to even catch a glimpse of Zhalia. She would spend hours locked in her room, or wandering the grounds, but always seemed to disappear every time Dante got too close. It puzzled and frustrated him, and the question Metz had posed still lingered: why hadn't she left them?

He sat in the glade where they had first broached the subject of her family. It was dawn, and the clouds above him began to tinge in a peachy glow. He hadn't been sleeping well, a pattern which had, at first, confused him. He was worried about her. It had been almost a week since he had seen her sleeping, and the image pressed as one of his last into his mind. Everything about her was so perfect. He sighed in exasperation and lay back on the grass, closing his eyes as the tinges of the sun crept across his face, allowing it to warm him.

He did not know that Zhalia was standing in the shadows, watching him. A fond smile tinged her lips as she watched him. When the sun began to show, it caught her breath as to how it made him glow. The soft haze of springtime; it reflected the deep hues of his skin and made his russet hair shine. She felt guilty for avoiding him in the past few days. He could've helped her, yet she had receded into the solitary comfort she had always known. She shook her head slightly, swallowing down her fears. It was time to forget her past, and time to build bridges for the future. Slowly, silently, she began to walk towards him.

When she reached him, she hesitated for a moment. He looked peaceful, basking in the sun, like a lizard or a cat, and she didn't want to disturb him. She bit her lip, when she began to recognise his moods and thoughts. They were vague, but she refused to allow herself to intrude. He was concerned, that she could tell. Concerned about her. She smiled, and turned, lying down beside him. The grass was cool, but the sun was just beginning to warm. She listened to his breathing, conscious that hers was slowly falling into the same steady rhythm.

Softly, his fingers met hers. A smile played across his lips at the small gasp the movement caused, but he didn't open his eyes. He knew that she was here, that she had come to him. Feather-light, he stroked her fingers gently with his, waiting for her to relax again. Slowly, he felt her muscles ease, and her breathing become steadier. He turned her palm over slightly, linking his fingers into hers. He was pleasantly surprised when she responded, and drew his fingers into hers. Something innocent, just holding hands, but to Dante, the response was all he had needed.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to face her. She was watching him, her eyes holding a hint of nervousness within them, but her other features held curiosity, mixed with a hue of happiness. He smiled to see her like this. He lifted his other hand from his side, and brushed a stray strand of hair off her face, his fingers lingering on her skin.

She swallowed slightly at his touch, physically, and mentally, banishing the urge to run away. She tightened her grip ever so slightly on his hand, and glanced up to his face. There was an almost sadness to his features now, but also intrigue and gladness. She smiled, unsure, but not caring for her uncertainty. No more running, no more hiding.

"Zhalia, I-" he opened his mouth as if to say, but he closed his eyes and shook his head. His fears were still there. He squeezed her hand gently with his as he reopened his eyes. "I don't ever want to hurt you, Zhalia."

She shook her head, smiling weakly.

"The only way you could hurt me, would be if you told me I wasn't good enough for you." His heart ached to hear the sadness and longing in her voice, yet it leaped when he realised it was for him. She was still scared of losing everything. And he never wanted her to be scared again. His hand moved from her forehead to cup her cheek, and he brought the other holding her hand upwards. Gently, he pressed his lips against the back of her hand. When she didn't flinch, he grinned with inexplicable joy, and kissed it again.

"I could never say that. You're so much stronger than me, in a way that cannot be seen." He lent across so that his face was parallel with hers. He stroked her cheek softly with his thumb, murmuring, "I would do anything for you."

She felt both of their breathing quicken, and she felt their breaths mingle between them. She'd lost all connection her head and her fears, now being controlled solely by her heart. And it was so happy, and she was too. Her grip tightened in response to his, and she brought her free hand up to stroke the nape of his neck, her fingers tangling slightly in his long dark hair.

"I love you Zhalia Moon," he whispered, his hair tickling her forehead as he leaned down to her. Their kiss was soft and fleeting, but it left the air charged. A breeze rustled through the glade, and it was as though the whole world had sighed, contented.

"I love you too," she murmured, her eyes shining. She traced his jaw gently with her fingers, a frown creasing her brow, ever so slightly. She glanced up into his eyes, questioning. "Anything?"

He smiled at her, nodding. He lent down again, murmuring against her lips. "Anything." He kissed her softly again, before adding.

"Anything for you."