[Authoress's Notes:

[I really like this poem.  It says so much, and it says something I've been trying to put down in words for quite a long time.  That said, I don't expect this to make sense to most people.  And I'm perfectly okay with that. 

[I had a lot of fun with the format, but then fpn decided to hate it, so this is what you get instead.  I know it's a little hard to read.  But I'm okay with that, too.  That actually entirely serves my purpose]

Gold hair spills across the linen

                    Slender fingers comb russet locks

Jade eyes flutter

                    Hazel eyes search

Daughter of Chaos

                    Son of none

Daughter of something dark, twisted

                    Engineered to be a complement

In need of a savior

                    In need of a damsel

-I don't play damsel in distress very well-

                    -I never said you had to-

-But maybe if…-

                    -It isn't necessary-

She pauses to think, tracing circles on his arm

                    He blinks up at the ceiling

-A match made in-

                    -Where was it again?-


                    Arched eyebrow.

-Point taken.-

                    -Regardless – still made for each other-

-Literally.  Few can claim such.-

                    And that phrase, "until the end of time"

Has such special meaning for a few.

                    -I will, you know.-

-I know.-

                    A noise outside.

A heavy sigh.

                    A snide comment made on the other side of the door

Regarding one bed empty and one too full

                    -Don't you ever get tired of it?-

-They don't understand.  Can't figure it out-

                    -Why the harsh-



-Scoundrel gets the lady.-

                    -Not just the lady, the leader.-

-I sometimes wish…-

                    -They just don't know.-

-Can't tell any better.-

                    -They're right, though.-

She lifts her head in question.

                    -I don't deserve you.-

An audible scoff.

                    -How could any man deserve the Daughter of a Goddess?-

-Have you met my Mother?-

                    -She never deserved you, either.-

-A man might get struck by lightening for saying that.-

                    -I'll risk it.-

She rests her head again, muttering something about too cocky

                    He kisses her hair.

-I can live with the comments-

                    No response; he just rubs her back

-You know what I do tire of?-

                    -Probably.  Tell me anyway-

-Being Their pawn.-

                    A sigh to match her own.

-You know how I feel.-

                    -Oh, yes.  We may have been given freedom of choice, but-

-Our fates are still not our own.-

                    He nods slowly.

The Mother will always shadow the Daughter

                    And the knight in tarnished armor will ride to the rescue.

The glittering-auraed girl with a darkness in her soul

                    Looks to an unlikely hero for salvation.

Another noise from down the hall

                    A swinging door and irritated shout

-…Someone's calling for me-

                    -Let them-


                    -Rest, love.  If it's important, they know where to find you.-

She nestles closer, willing to ignore the world

                    He puts his arms around her, suddenly struck with the fierce instinct

To protect, defend, fight

                    Knowing he'd risk all that he is in a moment

If it meant saving this hell-wracked soul

                    He's got his own darkness

She's only half-aware of it

                    But she doesn't need to be –

She helps without knowing, for

                    What dusk could withstand the overbearing power

Of a rising golden dawn?

                    That first moment mended, bonded

Sealed the destinies

                    Of two cursed and belabored souls

Daughter of Flame

                    In the embrace of her Beloved

Jade eyes full of hope

                    Hazel eyes ever vigilant

Golden tresses slip through his fingers

                    Russet hair tousled by her touch