She frowned, stepping back from him and looking down at herself. The flirt might not have landed as he expected. "You have only seen me in two colors," she replied in confusion, holding up two fingers. "Black and silver. My original robes. I suppose you have seen me in shades of grey..."
She nodded, taking this into consideration, adding another finger. "Yes, yes," she agreed. "And the red. That is not all colors, Basel. There are many colors you have not seen me in. Green, for example."
"No, I look poor in the greens," she protested playfully, tugging on his shirt. "If you must picture me in something, picture me in grey."
Despite his teasing, her face fell slightly. "I am not royalty," she told him, looking up at him. "Remember? I am just Anya. My family did not want me."
He frowned, looking down at her. "That doesn't change anything. They did that because you are the princess, and they didn't like that because they're selfish and cruel." He stopped, figuring it might not be helpful.. "but you're a royal in my eyes."
She frowned, considering him before glancing down uncertainly. "Perhaps," she said quietly. "But they still did not want me, Basel. That... that is indicative of something. I was not wanted."
He reached up, resting his hand on her jaw as he watched in concern. "..I want you. This ship can be youe home, if you'll allow it."
She looked up at him slowly, her brows furrowed in thought. She remained silent for a few moments, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft and almost plaintive. "This is also what love feels like, isn't it? What I am feeling... this is also love, isn't it?"
She watched him before reaching up, kissing him softly, her hands reaching up to run through his hair.
She pulled back from him for a moment, considering him. "Your eyes are like suns," she told him again, her voice barely a murmur.
She laughed breathily, still watching those eyes of his. And that smile. Her hand cupped his jaw and she found herself marveling at his smile, sweet and mischievous, but softened for her. “I love you too,” she told him earnestly, considering the statement. “At least, I think I do. I am not even certain if I am capable of love, being so unfamiliar with it. But if what I am feeling is love, it most certainly extends to you.
He brushed her dark hair back gently, feeling it move softly between his fingers. "I'm glad," he told her. "If you consider it love, then that's good enough for me."
