Author's Note: Also not super in love with the title. So if anything strikes you please let me know. This is The Silver on AO3. I don't like either, lol.


June 1992

Blue. During long (long, long, long) summer days the sky was-

"...so their habits aren't well..."

Blue. Her father's eyes were blue, just like-

"...from season to season. It's just so fascinating, ..."

Her eyes were blue, except when-

"...and it's such a shame that I missed it, but..."

Her eyes were silver sometimes (but that was a secret so she told no one, not even herself, not even her-).

"...and beside there's always next time."

Luna nodded absently. She had no idea what her dad was talking about. It was her fault though (she was the one distracted).

The sky was blue (blue, blue, blue) above them, as they sat halfway down the hill their house (she fancied it their castle) stood upon. The green, green grass was soft beneath her bare toes.

The clouds were fluffy and white (and she saw each cloud as a different creature that was also watching her). And everything (and each other thing) would have been fine if nothing else was watching (with silver eyes that burned).

Everything (would have, could have) should have been fine.

"Luna, have you ever wondered where unicorns come from?"

She shook her head. She'd assumed they'd always been there (like the stars and the moon, always).

Her dad had chuckled. "Well, a long, long time ago, there was goddess whose name has been lost to time. She was a very wise and kind goddess and loved to see all the good happening down on the earth below her. But she noticed no matter how docile the animal, how good the human, that every creature on earth was capable of hurting one another. It caused her to weep that some enjoyed this."

He paused dramatically, and Luna obliged him by asking him, "So what did she do?"

"She decided to make a creature so good and so pure that it would never hurt anyone. That's the unicorn."

Luna looked from her father's beaming face to the grass she was rip (rip, rip)ing out of the ground. She knew that she shouldn't feel so cold (so scared, so angry), but she did. "Not even to defend itself?" Her heart squeezed painfully. Everything liked to live (many things fought to live).

She watched as her dad's smile nearly fell off his face. "No, but everyone knows it's bad luck to kill a unicorn," he swallowed as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth.

(Every, every, every)one knew.

Her father knew many things (but he did not know everything).

He didn't know she had a secret.

She had heard that everyone had secrets (and she suspected her dad did too), but she hoped that no one else had a secret like hers.

She tried to believe that it wasn't such a bad secret (tried, tried, tried). She tried to believe that it was a small, silly, meaningless secret.

After all the sky changed colors all the time and no one seemed to mind (much). If her eyes changed color, it shouldn't concern anyone: not her dad or herself (or her mom who had gone far, far away). It wasn't scary (and she wasn't scared).

She imagined most secrets weren't hungry (weren't angry, weren't alive, weren't trying, trying, trying to get out, out, out).

It had all started in December, when her mother had her potions accident and Luna had been stained silver for the rest of the month (for some reason she could never recall). She'd seen it, the Silver, hiding in the silver on her skin, but she'd thought that maybe (hopefully) she wouldn't see it again after her normal coloring returned.

But she had continued see it, occasionally. It had glinted on the edge of her vision as she searched for blibbering humdingers. In the night, she could feel it simmering in the dark with cold, bright, burning rage.

Although, it hadn't been so bad (not so bad). Most of the time she hadn't been able to see it (most of the time she hadn't had a secret). But then around April (she'd been excited for her birthday) it had started showing up more. She started to be able to see it better. It would whisper things to her (cold, bad, evil things).

She thought it might be an imaginary friend (she'd heard that other children had them, she'd never really seen the point, after all there were so many real things in the world-). She had hoped it was imaginary because then it could be imagined away.

But the Silver wasn't imaginary. It was bright and cold and real (and it lived inside her and she could feel it burn). The Silver wasn't like her (it was angry, and she feared that it was also cruel).

And she knew (and she wasn't sure how she knew) that the Silver shouldn't exist. It told her (whispered, laughed, told). It thanked her for making it possible (and told her to remember a cold night and warm hot, burning Silver, everywhere, in her eyes-).

But she couldn't remember (and she didn't want to).

Daddy had said it would go away, but it hadn't (it'd just sunk into her skin, down through her blood and muscles and bones, down, down, down to her soul deep inside her). But Daddy couldn't see it there (and he didn't know to look).

The Silver was her secret though and she dared not let it out (if it ever, ever got free it would-). The Silver should never get out.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on her father's words (hard). Perhaps if she focused on them hard enough she could forget about her secret (about the Silver).

Perhaps if she listened hard enough, she wouldn't have a secret. (Perhaps the Silver would go away.)

There was nothing wrong with hope after all.

There was nothing (nothing, nothing, nothing) wrong (with hope).