Do you know about Jesus?
Do you have a Santa?
Do you have gods? It can’t be the same god. Could it?
I don’t even know how to talk to you, and you’re asking me to leave my planet and walk into court intrigue like I belong there. I don’t even have proper table manners. My favorite foods are Ethiopian and Indian—cuisines where you eat with your hands. You scoop up food with bread, not utensils. Does your culture use utensils? Or do you just let the food float into your mouths the same way your letters appear out of thin air?
I hate to admit this, but I do feel something. Something warm, sitting right in the center of my chest. It made me feel safe last night instead of anxious. Like someone was watching over me, but in a way that comforted instead of unsettled me.
Is that you? Is that this bond between us? If it is you, thanks for the good night’s sleep. Maybe you were even responsible for my burst of creativity when I woke up.
But Orion, I still can’t imagine leaving everything I know behind. I can’t imagine walking away from my entire world. My career. My family. My best friend.
I need time.
Maybe you could keep writing to me and we can get to know each other?
What do you think?
~Dani
Stardust,
You ask if we can keep writing—get to know each other. As if I have not already bared more of myself to you than I have to anyone.
But very well.
If this is what you need—words, pages, slow revelations instead of the immediate blaze of our bond—then I will do it. I will write to you, again and again, until your stubborn human heart finally accepts what your soul already knows.
But let me be clear, Stardust.
I do not want your friendship.
I want your loyalty, your mind, your laughter. I want your rage and your sharp tongue and your strength beside me. I want your body beneath mine at night, tangled in glowspun sheets, and again in the morning before our world fully wakes.
You will be my partner. My equal. And your body—every inch of it—will be mine to play with, to worship, to learn by heart under the eyes of the two suns.
Oh, I felt that. I felt your heart skip a beat just now. Now that you believe I’m real, the bond between us grows stronger every suns’ rise. Soon we’ll be able to hear each other’s thoughts.
In our realm, there are two suns. Solara, the large mother sun, and Lyra, the bright daughter sun. They rise and fall with magnificent precision, casting long golden rays over the mountains before slipping behind the horizon. With two suns on the horizon, our nights are short.
The moons keep our skies bright. There are thirteen of them in the night’s sky.
I look forward to those brief hours of darkness, when I will have you illuminated in starlight, every freckle and curve painted in silver, your name a prayer on my lips as I explore what the stars have gifted to me.
You asked to know more about me. I am tall. Most males of my kind are. Though I am taller than most. It is said our heads stretch toward the suns because that is where our magic is born. The greater the exposure to the rays, the stronger the connection to our power.
My body is broad and built by years of combat training. I was bred for battle. Shaped for the protection of my mate. Honed to shield the ones who bring life. That is the ancient law: females create, males defend. That is our balance in Frosthelm.
The Astravants tell me that frost indicates cold in your world. That is not so here. On Frosthelm, frost refers not to temperature but to hue. Our skies, stones, even the breath of our magic carries a pale, iridescent shimmer—like hoarfrost kissed by dawn.
Our world does not burn nor freeze. The light here is gentle, diffused. Frosthelm remains temperate, cool to the skin but never biting. Our homes are built for breathability, our garments light, our fires mostly ceremonial. If you come here expecting ice and snow, you will find instead opal skies, soft light, and air that tastes of starlight and stone.
As I said, we count thirteen moons in our sky. Each one chases after the daughter sun. She burns, and they follow, hopeless to ever catch her. So perhaps it is fitting that I now find myself chasing you.
But know this, Stardust: You will be caught. And when I hold you, when the bond is complete, we will burn so brightly that the daughter sun will blush and hide behind the clouds.
Though my skin is pale, I do not blush. My hair is also pale, the color of moonlight on metal. My eyes are star gold. My temper is even but can be quick when put to the test. I find that I have been tested most in the last zeniths. I spend my days in service to my people and my kingdom. Ruling is an all-day task at the moment. But when you arrive, I will steal time away from my duties to bask in the suns’ rays with you. For serving you and the bond between us is the most important duty that I will ever have.
