Crystalline Heart (DigitalSiren x babyLETSplay)

[Bunny]

Sitting in her sun lit chambers, Lysandra stared at her reflection in the polished mirror. A stack of letters sat before her unread. Suitors, vying for her hand in marriage. From these letters Lyse would pick Princes, Lords to attend a grand ball, where she would pick from among them her future King. Sighing she pulled her eyes away from the mirror and looked out the window beside her. Small flurries were starting to fall from the crystal blue sky, had it not been midwinter, one might have called it a sunshower. Her eyes lost focus as a memory swam to the surface of her mind. It had been snowing much like it was now, the day she had found a small egg, glistening in the sunlight. That memory took hold as she watched the snow fall almost lazily from the heavens.

Laughing, Lysandra ran ahead of her governess, small booted feet carrying her across the pristine white banks. Spinning in a circle, small arms outstretched she twirled, flaming red locks floating in the breeze she created. Her joy not hampered by the stern warning to be careful. The air was crisp and stung her lungs with each breath, in return she made misty little clouds as she exhaled. It wasn't often she was allowed outside the castle. Today was a special day. Somehow, her child like mind knew it. Magical, even. Her feet carried her over the frozen ground quickly. It wasn't ladylike to run, she knew that would be a part of the lecture later from the strict Madame Kaitlin. For now, however she was free. Dashing into the snowy woods she giggled. For now, she could dream, let her imagination run free. Time slipped through her small hands like water and the sun was high in the sky when she saw a glint of color nestled in the snow. Curious Lyse had wandered closer, her cheeks and nose colored a rosy pink by the cold. The source of the shimmer was a blue rock, egg-like in shape. Gasping Lysandra had reached a small hand out for it. It wasn't very large, even compared to her small hands. A delighted gasp left her as her numb fingers found the surface warm to the touch. Cradling in her palms like the fairy treasure she was sure it was, Lyse carried her find from the white woods with care. Showing off her treasure to Madame Kaitlin, who assured it was just warmed by the sun and not a fairy treasure. Hmphing softly she cuddled the stone to her chest, whispering softly "What does she know.." That night cuddled in bed, she'd trailed one small finger along the smooth surface of the stone, whispering her secrets to it. That first night she thought she heard a shuddering heartbeat in response to her whispers.

Days passed and as the night grew colder, Lysandra cuddled her fairy treasure closer in the nights. It was better than the bed-warmers slipped under her mattress at keeping her warm. Each night, she told the stone of her day. Each night, the warmth, the soft rhythmic heartbeat grew louder. Cuddled around her treasure, Lysandra woke in the wee hours of morning sweating. Whimpering softly she kicked off her heavy blankets and rolled closed to her stone, warm bright light prickling at her eyelids. Slowly opening her eyes, she rubbed at them sleepily "Whaa..?" Her stone was no longer the lovely blue crystal like gradient. Now, it was glowing red hot, orange in tone. Heat shimmered around it in visible waves. A small spike of fear went through her, and she reached out to push the stone away from her, her small palm touching the surface. Pain, instant, sharp and like touching fire seared through her palm. A cry of surprise, her hand pulling back into her chest, the stone on the edge of her bed teetering on the edge, before tumbling to the floor. "No!" Injured palm still cradled against her chest, she leaned over the bed. She'd heard the sound of it breaking. Sharp and clear the sound had been.

On the floor before her bed were shards of the stone, but.. something else had emerged. A... Dragon? The blue of it's scales reminded her of her fairy treasure, the way they glinted in the light from her dying fire. They looked almost like ice made into a living, breathing creature. Her mass of red locks fell into her face as she gazed down at it. A soft cooing sound coming from her mouth. Without thinking she held out her injured hand, fingers outstretched. "I won't hurt you, it's okay." Her voice was soft, sweet and full of wonder. Her treasure had been a dragon egg? "What's you're name?" She felt the soft whisper of a voice in her mind. Elon. "Elon? Is that your name?"

As the baby dragon grew at a rapid rate, it became hard for her to hide him. She was pretty sure it was a him at least. One day, her father, the King caught sight of her playing with Elon in an unused room. They were playing hide and seek. The fight had been one for the ages. A seven year old screaming and kicking at the guard who held her in his arms while another threw her best friend, her baby dragon, into the freezing cold. Her father said that Elon couldn't be what he seemed. The dragons had died a long time ago. A trick of the mind, a demon. Nothing more and nothing less. Lysandra cried herself to sleep for days. In time, the memory of Elon had dulled to a soft ache, but she never forgot her baby dragon and in truth, she never believed that he had been evil.

Sighing softly, Lysandra's head swayed, as if trying to shake the fog of the memory free. When she had lost Elon, something had grown to take his place. Lyse was sure it was some sign that she was fae kissed, moonstruck. Whatever one called it, it normally was used to be kind, rather than calling them touched in the head. The soft voice she heard and had even named after her lost friend. She didn't feel touched. The gentle voice never lied to her. It guided her, helped her.. protected her. Like when it told her about Lord Byron, to be wary of him. The captain of the guard was later found to molest young girls. Another time, it had warned her not to go into the forest one overcast day. The next day they found several villagers had been mauled by a bear. In the course of eleven years, that voice had saved her from numerous things. It was also there when her brothers died in a freak accident. Just last month when her father had backhanded her hard, leaving her lip split and the taste of blood in her mouth for daring to question him on the harsh increase of taxes on the people. The presence had been there both times, comforting her. Always there, lingering in the shadows of her mind.

It's odd, to pick men from letters. Though I suppose it's better than marrying someone without knowing them at all... She whispered into her mind. In return she felt warmth. The presence was there but silent. It didn't always speak to her, but was always there. Smiling softly she lifted her hand, her soft sea green eyes staring at the burn in the middle of her palm. It reminded her of her dragon, his egg. The outside of the the soft, shiny blue tinged mark seemed almost sharp in it's graceful lines. Much like a crystal might be when cut into facets. The inside of the sweeping m like shape was a heart. "I miss you Elon" Her voice was tinged with sorrow. She hoped that he'd been able to survive. He had always been warm, but that winter had been brutal. Just a baby, she was unsure if he'd been able to feed himself. She had always snuck him food. Tears blurred her vision. A knock at her door caused her to start, hastily wiping at her cheeks. "Enter"

One of her Lady's Maids, Miriam entered, curtsying to her. "More letters, your highness" Her voice was high pitched, but comforting nevertheless. Depositing them on her desk, Lys offered Miriam a smile. "Thank you Miriam" Waiting for her to curtsy yet again before drawing her heavy wooden door closed behind her. Pulling the the first letter closer, her the tip of one finger tracing the wax seal. Okay, the first letter... She sometimes felt silly talking to that voice, but it always made her feel better for it. Pulling a small pearl handled letter opener closer she broke the seal. Why this letter? She couldn't say. She felt drawn to it.. Lifting it, she began to read...

 

[Dimples]

The pen tapped thoughtlessly upon the blank parchment, leaving behind the proof of his uncertainty in the form of multiple ink stains. A flurry of white entered his peripheral vision. There seemed to be no end to the snow. If this kept up, the people would be barricaded in their homes for the rest of winter. As lord of this land, it was his responsibility to tend to the people here. Though, in all honesty, Elon Theor cared little about these people and even less about the brutal cold of winter.

The cold was always unpleasant. The memories shrouding this season did little to change his harboring hatred for the snow. And yet, the thing that had begun it all, is the very thing that has driven him forward all this time. Lysandra. He could still remember those tender green eyes looking down at him, so full of innocence and joy. The warmth of her gentle touch as she held his small body against her own. But, most of all, the courage she proved as she fought with all her strength to save such a creature as a dragon from the cruel fate of the roaring winter. The first year was especially harsh and if it wasn’t for what Elon was, he was sure he wouldn’t have made it. Being raised domestically, he had no idea how to fend for himself. However, the world is cruel, and he soon figured out, only the strong survive, and it didn’t take him long to adapt for his survival.

Still, no matter where he wandered, no matter how strong he grew, no matter what land he conquered, that girl lingered on his thoughts. He had now grown strong and powerful, needed for very little, but no matter what he gained, it never seemed enough. There was a lingering hatred for the man who cast him aside those years ago. No. That wasn’t right. There was a lingering desire to see Lyse again.

He had to have her.

It was another snowy day when he first decided to make contact, entering her consciousness through the magical bond he had left on her long ago. It seemed time moved differently for her kind, for he had been nearly a man and she was still a mere child. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he had seen her, nor had he cared. The fact of the matter was, he continued visiting her from there on religiously, counseling her, guiding her away from danger, comforting her, and the more he had come to know her, the stronger his desire to protect her became.

And the stronger Elon’s hatred for her father grew.

The king was a tyrant. A greedy old man who had no regards for his own kin. His burning need for revenge was already smoldering. However, the moment he laid his hands on Lyse was the moment he had made his decision. Elon was going to take her away from there at all costs. In the coming years, the girl would come of age to marry. All he would have to do is wait until then, he wasn’t worried. Over the years, Elon had conquered a massive amount of land and riches, giving him much to offer for his marriage offer for Lysandra. He had carefully prepared for this day. After all, Lyse had Elon’s mark. They were now bound to one another. There was no way she would ever escape now.

Finally, he slumped in his large wooden chair with a hefty sigh as he released the feathered pen. No matter how much he mulled over the letter now, it was no use, it had already been sent. This was the utmost important step of all, getting her to accept him as a suitor through a mere letter. It brought him more distress than he thought something a simple should. Still, surely the letter should have arrived by now. He couldn’t wait any longer. Slowly, he closed his eyes, making the connection and feeling that familiar comfort of her presence engulf him as he invaded her mind.

It's odd, to pick men from letters. Though, I suppose it's better than marrying someone without knowing them at all...

The side of Elon’s lips perked slightly into a smirk. He remained silent, only allowing her to know he was there as he observed.

I miss you Elon…

Slowly, his smile faded as he was reminded that Lyse knew not of his real identity. She may have called him Elon, but, she had no idea that the Elon of back then, is the Elon of now. Would this bring her joy? Would it bring her sorrow? Fear? Soon, he was snapped from his train of thought by her voice.

Enter…

Silently, he watched as the lady in waiting brought forth more letters before leaving. Then, his eyes spotted it just as her hand picked the letter up. His wax seal. Finally, he spoke, his voice sung a deep melody.

Read it, Lyse.

He watched as she opened the letter, his heart thudding a heavy beat in his chest. The moment had come. It was all up to the contents of the letter now. It had all began in a cold brutal winter, and it seemed it would all end there as well.

Dear Lady Lysandra,​

Let me introduce myself. I am Elon Theor. Though you may not know me physically, you know me quite well already. You may think me mad for this letter to make such claims, but, I know you know better than to dismiss such claims so easily. If you wish to know more, I hope to finally meet you and accompany you at the upcoming ball.​

Elon.
​

It was a gamble. But, great things never came from not taking chances.

 

[Bunny]

The dark blue wax seal had been broken as that voice told her, demanded she read the letter. A smiled on her lips as she unfolded the creamy paper and her green eyes skimmed over greeting, eyes moving to the meat of the letter. Gasping, the letter fluttered to the surface of the table as both her hands covered her mouth. The sound of wood on stone sounded loudly within her chambers as Lysandra stood suddenly, backing away from the letter, her chair upturned by her sudden movements. The door slammed open, two guards within the room within seconds. Jumping she spun to face the sound of the noise. "My Lady, are you alright?" One of them asked. She looked paler than normal, the chair lay on it's side near her. The soft trembling of her form, the hands over her mouth. There was no sign of attack... "Do you need the physician?" It was Loris that asked this, his face softening. What ever had spooked the princess, wasn't something she required either man for.

"No.. Thank you Loris. I am alright." The words were choked out, her hands finally lowering from her mouth. She turned from the men, a sign of dismissal, her eyes lingering on the letter. Lyse felt no calmer, the panic still swirling within her. This was the first time since then the beautiful voice had scared her. She'd named it Elon after the friend she'd lost.. But now she was afraid of it. It, they.. were the only one who knew the name. Her Elon had been a dragon, a sweet little thing. It had made sense to call the voice who had always been as kind the same. That panic only rose further. She'd never wanted nor needed to block that voice from her mind, her thoughts... Looking at the letter she shook her head quickly. It.. couldn't be. The rush of fear was replaced by slowly building anger. That last remnant of her friend had effectively been ripped from her.

If the voice in her head was a person and not some manifestation of grief, which was what the letter didn't just hint at, but all but said. Fluid emotions swirled within Lysandra as she stared at the half open letter. Anger, fear, sorrow, betrayal and the smallest speck of curiosity. Like her emotions, thoughts fluttered about within her mind. Had her father been right? Had Elon been a demon? No... The voice in her mind had never hurt her. Had been a friend in the darkest of times and the brightest. But, they knew what she'd thought them to be. Why hadn't they corrected her? This very reason likely. A headache began to form between her brows, a dull ache that flared painfully as she bent to right the chair. She could still feel the presence in her mind.

She didn't speak or say what she'd do next the thought coming as an action. The walls of her mind closed, a solid wall of stone forming between her and the voice. She wanted to keep it... him? from her mind, away from her thoughts, feelings.. all of it. She didn't know if it would work, could work.. But she felt the absence suddenly of what had been a comforting presence. Either she had succeeded or he knew of her wish and had left. Either way, her desire had been made real and she could only hope it would hold. Slowly sitting once more Lyse read the letter again, her heart aching. It was like loosing another friend... Pushing the letter aside she read others. Her heart had not really been in it before, but now? Her movements were that of duty, no desire left. Numerous letters were slowly, painstaking written out. There would be months before the ball and she was expected to correspond with the suitors a few times before that day.

Her eyes fell on the letter pushed to the side and she sighed softly. Curiosity still tugged at her and finally she penned a letter to him as well. She couldn't bring herself to write to the man with the proper decorum that a Lord or Prince would require. If he was that voice, she had no need of it. If not, she cared little. Even now, as she wrote, her mind focused on that wall.

How would I know you Elon? If you are, who I think you to be.. You either left of your own volition or now find yourself behind a wall. Whichever is the case, there you should remain. I do not think you mad, though I struggle now to not find you cruel. ​

Lysandra sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing at the now full blown headache that encircled her head. She was sure this was her voice. She continued writing, with that almost certainty in her mind.

You knew who I thought you to be and you never once corrected me. I thought, you were someone I loved once. That you cared for me, even if I thought myself mad. Was it some sort of trick?
​

She had more she wanted to say, but she left the letter there. She neither addressed his name nor her own. Etiquette and decorum be damned.

In the following weeks after the letter had been sent with her delicate was seal of pale gold. During that time, Lysandra knew a sort of hollowness that reminded her of when she'd lost Elon the first time. Her mind was her own, that barrier never from her mind, other than perhaps sleep. It was unsettling, lonely and Lyse found herself struggling with the loss. She longed for that comforting presence and couldn't help but hate herself for missing it. She became moody and withdrawn as she struggled to not slip further into that gaping chasm of darkness.

Sighing, Lysandra found herself before her desk, looking at the neatly piled responses that had arrived days before. Would there be a letter from her voice awaiting her? She hadn't the courage then and she struggled to find it now. Longing was what caused her to draw the neatly tied bundles towards her.