Private Lights Among the Snow

[Xian Xiao]

The Life Day markets of Ravelin shimmered long before Xian reached them.

Snow dusted the rooftops and drifted through lantern-light like slow-falling sparks, catching on garlands strung across the high stone arches. Merchants called out from behind stalls draped in reds and silvers; the air smelled of sweetbread, hot broth, and the sharp winter pine the Diarchy used to decorate the city this time of year. Children darted between adults with sticky fingers and too much excitement.

Usually, she avoided days like this.

The crowds.
The noise.
The reminder of families she wasn't part of.

But this year felt different.

She had a list in her pocket — Jayna, Aknoby, Dean — and for the first time, she wanted to get it right. She wanted to choose something real. Something that meant something.

And… she wasn't doing it alone.

Xian stopped beside a stall lined with hand-carved toys, her breath curling in the cold air. A soft warmth brushed the edge of her senses — familiar, steady, unmistakable.

Veyran.

Her pulse lifted before she even turned.

She found him weaving through the morning crowd, snow catching in his hair, the pale winter sun warming the edges of his features. No armor, no weapons on display, no guard in his posture — just Veyran, the version of him she'd learned to read in quiet moments when neither of them was pretending.

When his eyes met hers, something in his expression softened, and the tension she carried in her shoulders eased almost without her noticing.

Her dark eyes warmed, almost shyly, though she tried not to let it show too much.

"Morning," she said, stepping toward him. Her voice held the faintest curl of something that wasn't quite laughter but close. "Hope you're ready. We've got presents to find, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

Snow drifted between them, settling on the wool of her hood before melting.

She hesitated only a heartbeat — one small, steady breath.

"Walk with me?" she asked, looking up at him fully now.
"Before Jayna buys the entire market and we end up with nothing left?"

It wasn't just an invitation.

It was choosing him.
Openly. Quietly. And without fear this time.

Veyran Solis

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran Solis had not expected the markets of Ravelin to feel this alive.

The city shimmered beneath the pale gold of morning, every rooftop crowned in frost, every narrow street wound with ribbons of color and song. Lanterns hung from the archways like captured stars, their light glinting off the snowfall as if the whole market breathed in rhythm with the season itself. The air carried the fragrance of roasted chestnuts and spiced caf, woven through with the faint metallic bite of winter wind sweeping down from the hills.

Vendors called out in good cheer, their laughter mingling with the clatter of coins and the distant peal of temple bells. Children wove between the crowds like darting sparks, their laughter cutting through the murmur of voices and music. Somewhere, a small ensemble played a Life Day tune older than the Diarchy itself, soft strings and wind instruments rising like the slow crest of a wave.

For a man who had spent too many winters on cold outposts and nameless worlds, the simple warmth of it all felt disarming. He moved through the press of people quietly, a shadow threaded through light and sound, taking it in, the scent, the glow, the hum of lives lived without fear. The weight of his years, of duty and silence, eased a little with every breath.

Ravelin, dressed in its finery, felt almost untouched by the wars of the wider galaxy. It felt… human. Honest. For a time, walking beside Xian felt like stepping out of his own shadow.

He walked beside her, hands at his back, as he looked over to her. "Do you have any idea what you might get them?"

The noise of the market blurred into something distant, softened by the snow that kept falling in slow, unhurried spirals. Her presence anchored him not in the way duty or command ever had, but in something quieter, almost dangerous in its simplicity. He matched her pace easily, boots scuffing against stone still wet from the morning melt, his breath mingling with hers in the cold air.

The weight he carried, the years of silence, of names written in memory instead of on paper, seemed to fade with every step. There were no battlefields here, no ghosts tugging at the edges of his thoughts. Just the pulse of life around them, the laughter of strangers, the brush of her sleeve near his hand.

It still frightened him, that lightness, he hated to admit that. The way it stripped him bare of every wall he had built. But it also made him feel something he hadn't in a long while, free.

He glanced at her, snow gathering on her hood, eyes bright against the glow of the lanterns. And for the briefest heartbeat, the world narrowed to the space between them, to the warmth of being seen and walking beside someone who didn't ask him to be more than what he already was.

Veyran breathed in the scent of pine and smoke and winter, and let it stay. And he allowed himself to simply see it, to let the color and noise wash over him like a memory he hadn't realized he'd missed.

 

[Xian Xiao]

The markets of Ravelin felt different with Veyran beside her.

Xian had walked these streets before — dodging crowds, hugging the edges, letting the noise and color wash past her without ever quite touching her. But today, under Life Day lanterns and slow-falling snow, everything seemed… brighter. Softer. Closer.

Maybe it was the season.
Maybe it was the music.
Maybe it was him.

She tucked her hands into her sleeves for warmth as they drifted through a corridor of stalls shimmering with frost and bright fabric. The scent of roasted sweetbread mingled with spiced caf, curling into the air like a gentle ribbon. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel swallowed by the bustle.

Then she caught him looking at her.

And the quiet smile that rose on her lips wasn't something she tried to hide.

When he asked if she knew what she wanted to get for Jayna, Aknoby, and Dean, Xian let out a breath that fogged in the cold air.

"Not even a little," she admitted, though her voice held warmth, not nerves. "Jayna's easy in theory — she loves quiet things. Books. Warm clothes. Anything she can curl up with."

They turned into a quieter stretch of the market, tucked between two lantern-lit booths where the noise softened into a distant hum. Xian slowed, scanning the displays with thoughtful eyes.

"Jayna likes stories," she said at last. "She collects them, even when she pretends she doesn't."

A small booth covered in hand-bound journals caught her eye. She reached for a charcoal-grey one — simple, sturdy, something Jayna could turn into her own world.

"This one," she murmured. "She'll fill every page."

She tucked the journal under her arm and moved on, their shoulders brushing as she stepped toward a weaponsmith's stall where the lantern light shimmered across polished blades.

"Aknoby…" She huffed a faint, fond breath. "He's easier. He likes things he can understand. Things that work."

She picked up a compact dagger with a clean, curved edge — perfectly balanced, straightforward, useful. Exactly him.

"This is right," she decided, sliding it into its sheath and handing it to the vendor.

Then came Dean.

Dean — quiet, closed-off, sharp in all the places most people softened. A fortress with no signs on the doors.

Xian drifted to a booth of practical field gear, fingers brushing over a compact matte-black multi-tool — sleek, efficient, no embellishments. A tool someone like Dean wouldn't talk about, wouldn't display, but would use every single day.

"This one," Xian whispered, tucking it with the others. "She'll make fun of it, pretend it's nothing… but she'll keep it."

With all three gifts wrapped and secured under her arm, she returned to Veyran's side. Snow gathered in her red hair, catching the lantern glow in soft sparks. Her expression, for the first time since they arrived, looked peaceful. Grounded.

"That's everyone," she said gently, nudging his arm with her elbow. Then, quieter, a warmth threading through her tone without her meaning to, "Thank you… for coming with me."

Her hand brushed his — tentative, soft, testing the warmth between them.

A beat of silence.
A breath.
Snow swirling around them like drifting stardust.

Then she lifted her gaze to him, dark eyes steady and warm.

"…What about you?" she asked softly. "Is there anything you want?"

Veyran Solis

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran's answer came slowly, shaped more by the quiet between them than the words themselves.

The market seemed to fade around him again, the laughter, the calls of vendors, the faint trill of strings from somewhere beyond the arches, all softening until only the rhythm of their footsteps remained. Snow brushed against his lashes, melted, and disappeared.

And yet, as she looked up at him now, her dark eyes steady and open, the answer stirred before he could silence it.

He smiled, quiet, fleeting, the kind of smile that only ever belonged to moments no one else would see.

"Want?" he echoed, voice low, carrying a warmth that matched hers. "I'm… not used to thinking about that."

He let the confession hang there, simple and true. Then, after a beat, his gaze softened, and the faintest breath of laughter escaped him, barely audible over the wind.

"Maybe..." he said, eyes tracing the curve of her hair where snow had begun to gather again, "it's this. Just this. I have everything that I could want with me right now.."

He didn't add the rest, that walking beside her had steadied something in him he hadn't known was still trembling, that the weightlessness scared him even as it made him feel human again.

Instead, he looked ahead, where the lanterns shimmered through the falling snow, and let the silence between them speak for what he couldn't.

 

[Xian Xiao]

For a moment, Xian didn't say anything. She just watched him, watched the way he looked out over the market like he was seeing something he hadn't let himself look at in years. His voice lingered with her — the quiet honesty of I have everything I want right now — and warmth curled low in her chest, soft as the lantern glow around them.

But she also knew him.
Knew how he put himself last, always.
Knew how hard it was for him to imagine wanting anything at all.

So she huffed a soft breath, the ghost of a laugh warming the cold air between them as she nudged his arm lightly with her elbow.

"Well," she murmured, dark eyes lifting to meet his, "you can want something else too. It won't kill you."

Her gaze dipped — not shy, just thoughtful — before sliding back toward the surrounding stalls.

"It is Life Day."

She let the implication hang for a heartbeat, then tipped her chin toward a nearby vendor stand draped in woven fabrics and small carved pendants. Snow-dusted scarves hung from the rafters, each one in earth-toned fibers, warm and soft without being flashy.

"A scarf might be nice," she said, pretending the suggestion was casual even though her eyes lingered a breath too long on the snow melting in his dark hair. "Not a hat—" Her lips curved, soft and a little flustered. "Definitely not a hat. Some things shouldn't be covered."

Her gaze drifted down to the wooden charms displayed on the vendor's table — small animals carved from local stone. One in particular caught her attention: a bear, stylized but strong, with a compact, sturdy shape. She lifted it between her fingers, turning it so the light caught the etched lines.

"This," she said quietly, her voice lower now, steadier. "The bear is a protection symbol in half the systems around here."

She set it gently in his palm, her fingers brushing his just long enough to draw his attention back to her.

"It'd suit you. Something to keep with you when I'm not there."

The last part slipped out before she meant it to, wrapped in warmth and meaning and more honesty than she usually allowed.

She swallowed once, breath rising in a small visible cloud.

"…You should pick something," she added softly. "Something that's for you, not just everyone else."

And in the quiet that followed, with snow drifting around them like falling embers, it was clear she would help him choose — or, if needed, choose for him — to make sure Veyran Solis finally allowed himself to receive something in return.

Veyran Solis

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his mouth, hesitant at first, then settling into something warmer, almost disbelieving. The sound that followed, a short, quiet laugh that startled him more than it should have. It had been too long since laughter came that easily.

He looked down at the carved bear resting in his hand, the weight of it grounding him. The smooth stone was cool against his skin, its shape simple yet deliberate, a symbol meant for those who stood guard and bore more than they spoke. It fit, though he wouldn't say that aloud. "I'll consider it," he murmured, voice low but touched with a gentleness that hadn't been there moments before. His gaze lifted to her, the faintest glint of amusement softening the usual steadiness in his eyes.

Then he closed his fingers around the charm, slipping it into his palm as if to keep the warmth she'd left there. "But for now," he added quietly, the smile still ghosting his lips, "let's focus on the ones that matter."

The words carried no weight, just quiet affection, the kind that lingered even as the snow kept falling around them.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian slowed when she heard his answer, something warm blooming in her chest in a way she didn't know how to hide. The charm rested in his hand like a small promise, unassuming and straightforward, yet seeing him hold it — seeing him accept it — tugged at a part of her she kept carefully guarded. For a breath, the noise of the market faded behind the soft fall of snow, and the only thing that felt real was the way he stood beside her, quiet, grounded, unexpectedly gentle.

She didn't speak right away. Instead, she let her gaze linger on the place where his fingers curled around the carved bear, absorbing the quiet sincerity of the moment. When she finally lifted her eyes to his, her voice emerged with a softness she rarely allowed herself.

"You know… if we're talking about the ones who matter…" She hesitated, just long enough for her breath to warm the space between them. "…you matter more than any of them."

It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was simply the truth — offered in a voice meant only for him, tucked between drifting flakes of snow and the glow of lantern-light. She brushed her fingers lightly against his sleeve, not enough to take his hand, but enough to let him know she meant it.

Rather than linger in the vulnerability of the moment, she stepped forward again, guiding them naturally down the next row of stalls. The crowded hum of the market returned gradually around them, bright and alive, giving her something to focus on while she found her composure again.

"Second gifts," she said, a faint warmth still in her tone. "Because Jayna will fill a journal in a week, Aknoby will dismantle whatever he gets just to see how it works, and Dean will pretend she doesn't care while secretly keeping her gift longer than anyone else."

She paused beside a booth lined with shimmering lantern silk, the snow catching in her red hair as she reached toward a display of carved bookmarks — each gleaming with nacre and shaped into stylized symbols. One, a delicate curling flame, drew her in immediately.

"For Jayna," she murmured, running her thumb across the smooth edge. "She loves stories, even the ones she never says out loud. Something she'll use every day… something that stays with her even after the story ends."

They walked a little farther, her cloak brushing his as she came to a stall filled with compact brass puzzles — intricate little mechanisms crafted to confuse most people and fascinate exactly one particular boy.

"For Aknoby," she decided, lifting a spherical puzzle with interlocking rings. "Something mechanical, something clever, something he can take apart without blowing the roof off a training hall." A small, amused breath escaped her. "Hopefully."

Another few steps brought them to a booth of metal tags and engraving plates — simple, utilitarian, the kind of thing a soldier or mechanic might wear without thinking twice. Xian's fingers drifted toward a matte-steel tag with a clean weight to it, no embellishment, no frills.

"And Dean…" Her voice lowered, not sad, just thoughtful. "She doesn't want anything pretty. But she does want to feel… seen." She turned the tag over in her hand, imagining a name pressed into the metal. "Something she can keep on her gear or tuck into a pocket. Nothing sentimental, just… hers."

She offered the tag to him then, letting him feel its weight, but also because his opinion mattered — more than she intended to admit.

"What do you think?" she asked softly, her eyes lifting toward his. "Does it fit her?"

A quiet moment settled between them, snow drifting down in gentle spirals, catching in their hair and on the folds of their coats.

"And…" She took a breath, her voice dipping into something even softer than before. "What about you, Veyran? What do you want for Life Day?"

She looked ahead again, but not before he would see the warmth rising in her cheeks.

"Because… I want to get you something too."

Her shoulder brushed his — light, natural, but unmistakably intentional — as the market lights shimmered around them and the snowfall wrapped the world in a quiet glow.

Veyran Solis

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Jayna. Aknoby. Dean. Every name carried weight in her voice, and he could hear in it the way she cared, not out of duty, but because she couldn't help it. When she handed him the steel tag, his fingers brushed hers briefly and he smiled. The tag was cold and solid, the kind of thing he would have worn once without thought. But her question lingered.

He turned it over in his palm, the reflection of lantern light flickering across the metal. "It fits," he said finally, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to be real. "Simple. Strong. You see her clearly."

Veyran shook his head, the motion slow, almost rueful, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Snow clung to his lashes and the dark strands of his hair, melting as it met the quiet warmth that touched his expression.

"You don't have to get me anything," he said, voice low, carrying the calm certainty that had always defined him. "I've been graced with everything I could want right now."

He didn't add what lingered beneath the words, didn't need to. The meaning was already there, carried in the way he looked at her, in the ease of his smile, in the rare, unguarded peace that softened his eyes.

It was her.

And he knew she would understand without him ever having to say it aloud. She would be able to see it, but the slight glowing of red fire in his eyes vanished just briefly, leaving only the soft color that was his natural eye color. It was there for a brief moment and then returned to the slightest glow of red fire.

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian's breath caught—not enough to be obvious, but enough that she felt it in her ribs—when his eyes softened and the fire in them dimmed for that heartbeat of unguarded vulnerability. It wasn't dramatic, barely a flicker of change, but to her it was startlingly intimate. Like he'd let her see something no one else was meant to.

And it left her momentarily speechless.

The steel tag he held was still cool in her palm from where she'd passed it to him; the warmth of his fingers lingered there longer. His words lingered even longer than that. You don't have to get me anything… I've been graced with everything I could want right now.

Her heart gave a small, traitorous lurch.

She looked down at the snow gathering on their boots to steady herself, then back up at him, her voice softer than before, quieter in the space between them.

"Okay," she said, the single word carrying a warmth she didn't bother to hide. "But I still want to get you something."

Her eyes drifted to the small necklace stall behind him—a line of carved pendants, simple animals shaped from stone and bone. One, a small bear, hung near the center. Solid. Protective. Fierce. She didn't reach for it yet, but her gaze lingered long enough that he'd know she'd seen it.

"You don't have to want anything," she added gently, "but… it's Life Day. And you matter to me."

Her fingers brushed his where he held the tag—just the faintest contact, intentional but not bold—and she met his eyes again.

"So let me choose something. Nothing big. Nothing overwhelming." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Just… something that feels like you."

She didn't mention the flicker she'd seen in his eyes, the momentary softening of color. She didn't need to. It felt like something that wasn't meant to be spoken aloud, only witnessed—and held quietly.

Veyran Solis

 

[Veyran Solis]

Xian Xiao​

Veyran stood still for a moment, the sounds of the market softening around him until all he could hear was the faint hush of snow landing on stone. He met her gaze, and something in him stilled. There was no deflection this time, no easy turn of phrase to steer the moment elsewhere.

His fingers flexed slightly against the cool edge of the tag she'd passed him, tracing its weight as if it anchored him to this small, impossible peace. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, threaded with warmth and something more fragile beneath it.

"Then I won't stop you," he said, a soft breath of laughter ghosting through the words. "If it's something that feels like me…" He paused, glancing toward the pendants she was looking at. A knowing flicker crossed his expression. "Maybe you already found it."

"Just don't forget." he murmured, his tone lighter now but no less sincere. "You deserve to be part of the ones who matter too."

 

[Xian Xiao]

Xian didn't answer right away.

For a moment, she just stood there, snow settling quietly into her hair and the lantern light catching along the edges of the market stalls, her dark eyes fixed on him as if she were committing the shape of his face to memory. His words didn't land like a surprise. They landed like recognition—like something she'd been circling for a long time, finally holding still.

Her fingers tightened around the pendant she'd been considering, then relaxed. She took a breath, slow and deliberate, the way she did before stepping into open air.

"I spend a lot of time telling myself I don't need to say things out loud," she said softly, voice steady but unguarded. "That if I just feel them hard enough, that should be enough."

She looked down briefly, then back up at him, resolve settling into her posture in a way that felt very Xian—quiet, stubborn, honest.

"But you matter," she continued, each word chosen with care. "Not as a moment. Not as a season. You." Her hand lifted, resting lightly against his chest, right over the place she knew his heartbeat lived. "And I don't want to keep pretending that doesn't change me."

The market seemed to recede, sound and motion blurring into something distant and harmless. Her thumb brushed once, unconsciously, against the fabric of his coat.

"I love you," she said at last.

No rush. No flourish. Just truth, finally spoken.

"And you don't have to carry this alone," she added, quieter now, eyes shining but steady. "Not the past. Not the weight. Not even the good parts." A small, earnest smile touched her lips. "We both matter. And I want to choose that. I want to choose you."

She stayed there, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her, close enough for him to step forward or stay exactly where he was—trusting him with the words she'd finally let free.

Veyran Solis