Fortune had always smiled down on them.

In the beginning, perhaps, not so much. They both remembered the smell of burning wood that was their home going up in flames.

They could not remember but could imagine the faceless brutes shooting their mother full of arrows like an obscene, bloody pincushion. They pictured the others who had sliced their father apart. Mother and Father butchered like wild animals, and then silence, the kind encountered in the eye of the storm.

Howls rising in the night. Darkness, running. They did not even have time to cry.

And then – it was daylight. No more forest left to hide in, and a group of sweaty, angry men advancing, each apparently different but with such similar expressions.

It was Naria who thrust Eriya behind her, scrawny, scruffy body tense, snarling and spitting at the man in front who stared hungrily at them. "Gold and silver twins," he said, fingering his crossbow. "How unusual."

In terror, they ran, gasping for breath, holding each other's hands so tightly it hurt – then, falling as the sounds of the mob faded behind them and a flurry of wings as an angel swept them into his arms.

Tumbling over that cliff brought them closer to Fortune and to life. To him.

Later, safe and rescued by Folken, they would speak of it like most people speak of their first kiss, their first love.

"…Like flying. Do you think it'd be nice to fly?" Eriya wondered, her tail flicking from side to side. She was the one with the more vivid dreams.

"Sure. We do it everyday."

When they were younger, the darkness scared them. Shapes the moonlight made on the walls became bogeymen with torches and crossbows. So Folken let them into his bed; surprised one night by two soft, warm leopard girls snuggling like kittens up to his sleeping form.

They were too young to understand the implications of their actions. It was not lost on Folken how wrong it was to let them straddle a man on his bed at night, even if it was just for the bliss of being near him, protected by him much as the rock protects the creatures in its shade.

As they grew, the clumsy aspects of their appearance fell away, one by one so that it seemed to Folken that overnight they had became tall, statuesque, both as graceful and as beautiful as a well-groomed cat. He trained them, taught them, gave them all the chances and opportunities that the Empire offered, binding them closer and closer to him.

Understanding of how to pilot, how to calculate the best launch angle for a projectile, how to efficiently incapacitate the enemy – these, and more, they excelled in. Education – reading, writing, history, maths and sciences, the sisters added to their ever-growing accomplishments. Other, more subtle, skills they learned through observation and imitation.

No tangible prize or motivation was needed. A word of praise from Folken would please them for days on end, would spur them to ever greater heights.

Exposed to others, they found every new acquaintance through great bias and personal prejudice to be nothing compared to Folken. He was the bravest, kindest, wisest, most intelligent, most beautiful being they had ever been lucky enough to know. The list went on.

Worship and devotion does not easily translate into understanding. They were aware but could not understand the sorrow and guilt apparent in the lines of his face, the shape of his mouth, the hooded eyes. They saw those stately shoulders tremble under the responsibility – of what, exactly? they wondered – but they did not understand.

Did they understand love?

One day as they waded through a marketplace in Asturia, barely aware of their own imposing presence, a painting caught Eriya's eye.

"Look, sister," she said, directing her gaze towards the canvas, her own face colouring.

"They're… they're kissing!" breathed Naria, her heart pounding at the provocative and wholly alien scene of two lovers bathed in moonlight.

Golden eye met silver eye.

That night as they returned to him, they brought him gifts of fresh fruit and flowers from the trip. They laid their heads on his chest and proclaimed, as they often did, their undying loyalty and love.

What sparked the sudden heat rising from the pit of Naria's body? Was it that she became conscious of the electricity leaping from her fingers to the living, breathing body beneath her own – or had it been that mystifying painting that had awakened her dormant desire?

She looked at her sister and found her own feelings perfectly mirrored.

Through actions rather than words, they offered him their bodies. Yet their caresses drew no pleasurable response. Naria gasped quietly as Folken's hand seized her own and brought it away from him.

"No," he said quietly, his gaze on one flushed face, then the other. "You have given me so much. I will not take your innocence from you."

His word was law. Uncomprehendingly the sisters assented to his unspoken command, their minds scrutinizing every inflection and pause in his voice as they drifted off to sleep. They did not and could not understand the entirety of what he had said.

Yet they were not unhappy.

Aware as they were of this strange feeling, love – and lust, if they would have known the word – and perplexed and pained as they were by his rejection, they were still content, as in their youth, simply to be in his presence.

Later, as Naria watched her sister in his arms, the result of a little extra luck on Eriya's side, she could not suppress the pangs of jealousy.

They had always done everything together; surely, she reasoned, as she watched the two figures press closer and closer, Eriya's kiss would also be hers.

And it was, in a way. Afterward as she held Eriya, she found that warmth, closeness, love; these were the same. Only the taste was different as she took her sister's face in her hands and kissed her softly and sweetly.

It was soon after that they lay dying. The pain that had wracked them both seemed to lift, and they clung to him with weakened grips. Folken's face was wet – with tears? It must have been. This time he could not save them by merely holding them.

They were not unhappy. Their pleasure for his and each other's presence outweighed the fear and pain of dying and the words love, love, love played like a lullaby in their minds over and over. Love for each other and love for him.

Black overtook the twins' gold and silver. Briefly the light of each life seemed to flare in the darkness; then winked and was gone.

Naria: silver, Eriya: gold.

I only watched the last few episodes of this series, the twins stuck in my mind. Remember to REVIEW!