Heewuu! I really love your content and our dedication to our Tailman! I've been craving for some fluff with him for a while now... I really wanted to request a best friends to lovers in a fantasy au (noblewoman reader and assassin Ojiro). Thank you so much and have a wonderful day!!! 💞💞💞
Okay lemme start off by apologising for taking so long to get to this Ask. I've had the fic written for a while but I really wanted to post this on Ojiro day because I actually really like it and there's a high chance I've already evolved this one-shot into a multi-chapter novel. (Also thank you for the ObiYuki vibes if it was intentional. They're one of my OTPs so I jumped at the chance to do a Shirayuki style piece)
A Royal Favour | (Ojiro x Fem!Reader)
Age Rating: G
Word Count: 5k
Tags: Fantasy AU, Royal AU, First Meetings, Slow Burn
------
What absolute rot.
Embroidery. Embroidery. What good were flowers stitched onto handkerchiefs when it came to war? How, pray tell, were you supposed to defend yourself with a needle and thread if your enemies stormed the castle? Your mother had her head screwed on backwards, you were sure of it. Here you were, embroidering carnations onto silk patches in your tower while your brothers spent their time in the courtyard, learning to swordfight with the knights. You didn’t care if you were a princess and they were princes – this was totally unfair.
“But mother,” you complained, poking yourself in the finger with your needle for the umpteenth time. “Surely my future king would want a queen who can look after herself? What use will I be if all I am taught is sewing and singing?”
“Until you are wed, my dear, your usefulness is to us.” Your mother, the Queen of Thribb, announced while she sat beside you and unpicked one of your failed attempts at stitching roses. “Singing and sewing are what will attract you a husband. They are the tools every woman needs in order to court.”
“But—”
“Once you have a husband – a suitable husband. A duke, or more favourably, the prince of a flourishing kingdom – you may twitter his ear off until he teaches you what you want, but for now you must try to present yourself as a couth young lady.”
Your mother’s fond but all-knowing smile did nothing to improve your sour mood.
You twisted your head away, listening to the far away sounds of swords clashing as you looked across the room to the open window.
“If I can’t present myself as I truly am, I can’t imagine I’ll have a very happy marriage. He may be in for a surprise when I reveal I am more than just a singing canary who sews his robes.”
The Queen chuckled, setting aside your failed stitching so she could stand, then leaned down and kissed you on the crown of your hair as she glanced outside.
“My child, you are a surprise worth having.” She placed a hand on your shoulder. Never more so than now could you feel her experience as a noble as she spoke with certainty and compassion. “One must sacrifice on the way to queendom, but you will find, as I did, that they are sacrifices worth making.”
“I shall not hold my breath.” You mumbled, but smiled and touched your mother’s hand all the same.
Looking out from the tower, you could see far beyond the kingdom of Thribb, past the Great Forest and towards the mountains of Drultam. The world was so very vast. You resented how little you had seen of it, particularly in comparison to your three overly-privileged brothers. Somewhere out there was your freedom.
The ways of this world meant your dreams came secondary to your duties as princess. You could not begin your life until you sat upon the throne of another kingdom, so to wed was your first priority.
But to wed you had to both find and charm a prince, and a charming princess you most certainly were not.
“I shall be in this tower until I die.” You declared glumly, hardly thinking it worth the effort to embroider flowers now. Your mother smiled at your wilful nature before sighing.
“Don’t be so silly. You have the rest of the castle-grounds to wither old in and die, too.”
You did not appreciate her sense of humour. She decided to leave you to pout, turning as she made her way to the tower door.
“I suppose I ought to check on your brothers. Our poor knights are bound by duty to aid them in their studies, but I do think it was a rather cruel trick by your father to have all three of my unruly sires practice swordsmanship at once. I shan’t be surprised if I’ve lost one of them to Sir Bakugou’s short temper already.”
You held the side of your finger against your lips to suppress a gleeful chuckle at the thought. Perhaps if Sir Bakugou really did lose his temper, you would have a shot at the throne and finally be taught something worthwhile.
Keeping the happy thought of your brothers’ timely demise very much to yourself, you waved to your mother as she bowed her head in farewell then left your chambers. You listened as she descended the stone staircase then sighed once she was gone. Without your mother to oversee you, the idea of slacking off very much appealed to you but you supposed if sewing meant your eventual freedom, you couldn’t abandon it yet.
Handkerchiefs and flowers were the symbols of love granted to you to give to men in your favour. Apparently a simple declaration of affection was not enough, and the in-thing was cryptic flowers embroidered on fabric. Pink carnations for thanks, purple tulips for royalty or red roses for romance. Then, of course there were the fabrics themselves. A single pink corner meant I cannot live without you, while an entirely lilac handkerchief meant please meet below my bedroom window. What was more, you were expected to carry this great collection of declarations in your bosom. If any man were to make it as far as your bedchambers, he would be sorely disappointed to find that your ample cleavage was made up entirely of handkerchiefs.
“I can’t think of a single prince who might know the difference between a white handkerchief or blue, the meaning of a peony or an orchid, so why must I waste my time learning the language when no prince will understand it without an encyclopaedia?”
Surely using your brothers as a guide for what all princes would know was unfair to the men trying to win your favour, but never the less in a bout of melodramatic fury you threw your embroidery-hoop across the room with the hopes of it soaring straight out the window. When you did not hear the soft clatter of it hitting the floor, you congratulated yourself on an excellent throw then rose from your chair to fetch a new piece of silk in case your mother returned.
“Perhaps if the princess wishes to practice her discus, she should use something more weighted than a sewing hoop?”
You stopped dead, hearing a voice. It was not one you recognised.
Twisting to look to the window, you saw a young man perched on his haunches with one arm bracing the archway as if he had just climbed through it – a maniacal notion when you remembered the tower was six storeys high. In his free hand, he held your embroidery hoop.
His face was partially hidden behind a mask while his clothes indicated a need for stealth, both dark in colour and wrapped tight against his strong body. Twin daggers rested against his hips but most striking was his tail. It looked powerful enough to render both his blades obsolete.
He would have stricken you with fear were it not for the insignia that gleamed on the breast of his haragake. You noticed as he hopped down onto your bedchamber floor that he wore the mark of the royal assassins.
“My apologies, your Highness. I was told her Majesty would be here. I was not aware you had taken this tower as your bedchambers.”
He straightened his stance then bowed to you, folding one arm across his chest as a show of respect.
You smiled and placed a gentle hand against your heart, still recovering from the split second you had feared for your life, then told him to raise his head.
“Please, it’s alright. Until just last week I was living in the west wing. You weren’t to know.”
He kept his head down, maintaining his impossibly low bow by counterbalancing with his tail.
“I arrived at the castle yesterday from my mission. As part of the royal guard I should have studied the changes in case it impacted your safety. My deepest apologies, Princess.”
You heard the sincerity of his voice. The assassins weren’t a branch of the royal guard you knew well. Indeed, you couldn’t say for certain how many there were or call a single one by name, but the King had once mentioned that should the castle ever fall, he could entrust your safety to his assassins like no other. They were dedicated and disciplined, and loyal above all else.
Seeing the attitude of this boy, you believed your father’s words. You appreciated his bow for what it signified, though you hardly believed you deserved such a display when you spent your days in leisure instead of any kind of royal duty. You believed one did not deserve respect simply for being.
“Don’t bow to me. I am but a wallflower in this royal palace. A temporary resident, if you will—”
The trouble, you found, with living in a castle where everyone took pride in their royal duties was how often you found yourself alone. The unfortunate result of this was that when you stumbled onto an attendant, you felt compelled to ramble, to vent at them in case the opportunity did not present itself again for some time. Unfortunately, more often than not your venting took the form of sarcastically running your mouth.
“—In but a few short months I will be wed and whisked away to a kingdom where I may learn to thrust a sword and never have to see the faintest sign of a flower-covered handkerchief again.”
You were aware how deluded you sounded but it was nice to get these things off your chest without the fear of your mother reprimanding you. Normally whichever attendant you cornered stood in silence and left you to ramble without interjection or comment.
Your current captive followed much the same pattern, rising to stand so you could rant at him properly but to your surprise, he actually seemed to pay attention. He relaxed his stance and watched you, his tail flicking lazily over the floor as he listened to your carry-on. It rather took the wind out of your sails and you brought your nonsense to a stop.
The greatest surprise came after that, when he actually chose to respond.
“Your Highness, whether in this castle or your new found kingdom of sword-wielding, flower-banning handkerchief haters, you will always be my princess and so I shall always bow.”
He held the embroidery hoop out to you, observing your colourfully stitched carnations. It was hard to be certain because of his mask, but by the creases at the corners of his eyes, you seemed to think he was smiling.
“But if I may, your Highness? Should you cancel your wedding plans, I strongly recommend adjusting how you hand out your favours should you wish to be rid of them for good. Your technique of throwing them like shuriken is admirable, but might be mistaken as an act of war to the nobles of other kingdoms.”
All royal etiquette be damned, you were impressed. You did not need to know what a shuriken was. The fact he answered back, let alone with wit, was enough to make you wish you had met him sooner.
You accepted the hoop when he placed it into your hands, thinking over his words. You were more inclined to listen to him since he understood your concerns well enough to make a joke of them.
“When I present my favour, I’ll be sure to wave it between two fingers like the dainty lady I am.” You quipped before frisbee-ing the hoop towards your four-poster bed. Had your mother or any of your regular attendees been here, they would have scolded you for such an action, but this boy seemed intrigued by your antics, amused even, almost as if he could forgive you for letting your hair down instead of acting like a pompous princess all the time.
Raising an eyebrow and a playful smile, you said, “Now assassin, you say you respect me, but did I detect a hint of sarcasm in your advice just now?”
Amused by your lack of royal decorum, the assassin nodded, his black eyes sparkling as his tail swished like a dog’s ready for play.
“At the risk of sounding impudent, I was merely trying to point you in the right direction, should you actually want to find yourself a king.”
“Oh, thank you.” You snorted. “But please don’t you start.” You raised your hands theatrically into the air, finding it strangely pleasant how quickly you relaxed in the assassin’s presence. “I’ve had my mother hounding me on that topic for days.”
“On which topic, your Highness?” He asked, seeming to enjoy this back-and-forth as much as you did. Perhaps assassins did not get much time to socialise, but you couldn’t say you minded when it meant you could speak to someone who would reply with more than just your attendants’ usual ‘yessum’.
“That I must practice, practice, practice such a ridiculous craft so I can find myself a husband.” You sighed. “I am a woman, therefore no one will give me the time of day to teach me what I need to be taught until I am some king’s wife.”
The assassin made a gentle ‘ah’ sound as his tail stilled, like the disjointed pieces of your bizarre puzzle were finally slotting into order. He looked at the sour expression slipping on to your face.
“And what you need to be taught is how to use a sword?”
“What I need to be taught is how to defend my kingdom.”
This seemed to pique his interest. He stayed quiet, placing a hand to his chin in thought. You liked such a refreshing person in your chambers, you decided. It was nice to have someone who was willing to hold a conversation with you, who wasn’t solely there to push your royal parents’ agenda. You weren’t sure how your mother would feel about you talking to him without a chaperone, of course, but perhaps this was alright as he was already a member of the guard.
“May I ask your name?” You said before too long, noticing that you may have broken him with the idea of princesses learning to fight. You realised you had his attention when his tail thumped once against the floor.
But before any words could be uttered, a gentle knock came at your chamber door. You made towards it, but the assassin raised a hand to ask you to wait, then he welcomed the newcomer on your behalf. Though at first he was wary, he bowed when he saw who was at your door.
“Your Majesty.”
Your mother entered, carrying a small tray of sandwiches and drinks.
“Please, let me carry those for you.”
“Ah, Ojiro. Thank you.” The Queen handed him the tray. “You’re back from your mission. I hope we find you well?”
“I’m humbled you should think of my health, my queen. Yes. I am very well, thank you.”
While they exchanged formal pleasantries, you smiled at the assassin’s name. Though it had not come directly from his mouth, you were happy to know him as Ojiro. Though your paths had never crossed until this day, perhaps now that you had a way to call him, you might have the chance to see him again. Having someone willing to speak frankly with you was a blessing when your royal curse meant generally being respected with silence.
Seeing your mother beginning to frown, you listened to what she had to say.
“Now if you’ll be so kind as to explain your presence in the royal princess’s bedchambers?”
There was a note of accusation in her tone. Whether Ojiro could handle your mother on his own or not, you stepped in on his behalf to clear the air.
“He was told you were up here, and well, you were until you weren’t and I’m sure he was on his way to find you again but I side-tracked him. It’s my fault.”
Seeing as though you were shouldering the blame for this, the Queen adopted a more mother-worthy expression as she folded her arms and furrowed her brows at you.
“Oh? And what exactly were you doing, side-tracking one of the most elite members of our court?”
You rather wished she had not said that. She made you wonder about your prior informalities in front of him. You had attended many royal courts and not seen him there once, but perhaps a good assassin was one you never found. Then again, Ojiro himself seemed not to have minded your indiscretions so perhaps like you, he was both a member of the court and a real person with real human feelings. When it came to the court, you could not name many with that quality.
“He got caught in one of my long-winded speeches about handkerchiefs and their lack of uses.”
To Ojiro’s credit, he hid the amused swish of his tail by turning to lay the dinner-tray down. At least he realised you were talking in jest. Your mother, however, did not.
“Young lady, if I have told you once, I have told you a dozen times.” Her sigh was so heavy that you thanked Ojiro for his presence. If not for him, she would currently be a queen on a furious rampage. “One way or the other you will learn to love handkerchiefs, favours, and what they mean for this kingdom.”
“But mother—”
Making you jump with her movements, the Queen strode across to a pile of your practice materials and grabbed the top-most piece of fabric. It was sore luck that she grabbed your worst attempt at roses to-date.
“Do not give me your opinion on the matter until you can actually stitch a flower that looks like what it’s meant to be. If you keep up your lackadaisical attitude, your nightmare of never leaving this kingdom might actually come true.”
“I’m not trying to leave the kingdom,” you answered back hotly. “I’m trying to learn how to help it but you won’t let me!”
“You can help it by practicing your embroidery and putting effort into the studies you complain about so much,” your mother snapped. She landed you with a glare that told you not to answer back, and you did as you were told.
Aware that she had humbled you, the Queen nodded then turned to Ojiro with a gentle smile, like she had not been seconds away from unleashing a motherly hell on to you in front of him.
“What was it you needed from me, Ojiro?”
Seemingly unfazed by what he had just witnessed, Ojiro stood to attention and addressed the Queen.
“I carry a message from the kingdom of Fern.”
“Ah, excellent.” Your mother glanced at you then briefly pursed her lips. “Let us not bore my daughter with dreary details. May we speak outside?”
“Of course, your Majesty.” He said, bowing. They turned for the door but when the Queen made towards it, Ojiro did not.
“Is something the matter, Ojiro?” She asked, wondering why he had failed to move. In response, he bowed again, much deeper this time as he kept his head low.
“I wonder if you will permit me to speak with the princess alone for one moment?”
If you weren’t bound by duty to hold your composure wherever possible, you would have let your jaw fall open. Ojiro was a brave soul to ask to speak to you in private from the Queen herself. It was only your input that had stopped her accusing him of impropriety moments ago.
As to be expected, your mother’s response was not pleasant.
“Absolutely not. I cannot leave the princess unchaperoned in her bedchambers with a man. You mock me to think I would.”
Ojiro did not rise from his prostration, speaking only when he was certain the Queen did not have more to say.
“I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty. But I ask you to reconsider. On my oath as an assassin, I swear not to take one step towards the princess, and that what I have to say is only in the best interests of the kingdom.”
A quiet fell over the room as your mother considered him. The fact she even hesitated put you in awe. The royal assassins truly did hold a place of deep respect from the crown if his word alone was enough to sway her.
“Alright.” She agreed, after a moment. “I shall wait for you outside,” she said, then turned her gaze to you. “Once I am done with Ojiro, we shall share sandwiches while I lecture you on courting etiquettes. Is that understood?”
Whether you understood or not, you had no say in the matter. You nodded with a sigh, resigning yourself to hours of difficult quizzes and courtship protocols. You couldn’t think of anything worse.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
The last thing you wanted to do was slip up and call her your mother while she had her queen-head on. You were on thin ice as it was.
With that she left, closing the door behind her, leaving you and Ojiro alone. Your first response was to sigh in relief, but your respite was short-lived when Ojiro addressed you with a frown.
“With the greatest respect, your Highness, I beg you not to upset our queen like that. She is only doing what is right by the kingdom.”
“I know,” you agreed, wishing he would not remind you. “I know it comes from a good place, but sometimes I find it so frustrating that she forgets I am my own person as well as a princess.”
You found yourself looking to him for reassurance that you were not a terrible daughter, but instead of words of comfort, the assassin looked at you in total seriousness.
“To that end, your Highness, I wonder if I may speak frankly with you?”
The fact he had battled your mother for your privacy and won was all the convincing you needed. He could cuss you out daily from this day forward and you would rightly say he had earned it.
Ojiro asked you to take a seat for your comfort, so in the spirit of being frank you ignored the decorum of perching on your sewing stool and instead climbed onto your bed. You delighted in the fact you heard Ojiro chuckling at your antics, then when you were settled he said,
“I would like to propose a deal.”
You raised an inquisitive eyebrow. You had not expected that.
“Go on.” You said, feeling yourself growing giddy with intrigue.
“My deal is this. You continue your studies and do all that you can to find a suitable prince through courtship—” you opened your mouth to rebuke him, to say he sounded far too much like your mother for this to be an honest discussion. “—and in exchange, when the Queen leaves the castle on her weekly tours of the kingdom, you shall come to me and I shall teach you how to swordfight.”
You looked to your chamber door, expecting your mother to come bursting through at any moment. She did not. You dared to answer him back.
“You would do that for me?”
“I would.” He said with total conviction. “You say you wish for someone to give you the time of day to teach you. Then I shall give you my time, Princess. As much of it as you need.”
Feeling a swell of warmth in your chest, you rose up from your bed. You had every intention of going to Ojiro and embracing him, being the first and only soul in this entire castle to listen to and offer you his help, but as you made a step towards him, he fell back, raising his hands to ask you to stop.
“Forgive me, Princess. I swore on my oath not to take a step towards you. Though you are the one stepping, I must honour my word.”
The more you learned about him, the more he fascinated you. But an oath was an oath, and you respected him for taking such pride in maintaining it.
“I understand,” you said, then an idea struck you. “But instead, if you will…”
Returning to your bed, you reached for the embroidery hoop to detach the square of silk, then quickly tied off its stitching. Ojiro stood in place, unable to fathom what you were up to until you turned to face him.
“Please, take this,” you said, holding out the handkerchief. For the first time since his arrival, you saw him looking shocked.
“Princess, I couldn’t—that’s—”
“A failed attempt at a favour, I assure you. My mother has told me in no uncertain terms that my favours are not up to standard, but even if they are not beautiful, I daresay they still hold some small meaning.”
Keeping to the edge of your room so that Ojiro could keep his word, you stepped across to the window then placed the handkerchief there before quickly returning to your bedside.
“Please accept it as a small token of my favour. What you have offered me means more to me than you could ever know.”
“Your Highness…” You heard the gentle tone of his voice, like you had shocked him to his core.
He walked towards the window. You worried he might refuse your favour when he saw it out of duty or disinterest, but when he reached the place you had left it, he kneeled down and picked it up with a gentle, tender touch.
“They’re carnations,” you said, hoping to teach him the significance of the flower so that he truly understood your feelings. “For—”
“—for gratitude.” He said, sounding humbled by such a gesture, like he was unworthy. Carefully, he folded the handkerchief then placed it into the pocket of his haragake, then turned to you, doing the one thing you did not expect, and lowered his mask. And the smile that greeted you was breath-taking.
“I shall treasure your kindness with my whole heart, your Highness. I will cherish your favour as the symbol of our pact. For as long as you strive to become the queen I believe you can be, I will do all that I can to aid you where others will not.”
He left you speechless. You could do nothing but look at his smile and the warmth of his eyes. Not another soul had looked at you in such a way in such a long time.
“Ojiro, your Highness.” He said after a moment. “I am aware the queen told you, but let me formally introduce myself. My name is Ojiro.” He straightened himself up then bowed to you again. You couldn’t help but smile at the way his tail wagged so unabashedly.
“Well, Ojiro, I’m glad you stumbled into my chambers today. I forgive you for the intrusion, and please if you feel the urge, you are welcome to stumble here again so that I may vent more of my princessly problems to you.”
He held his bow for a moment more then rose up again, his bright smile never leaving your sight.
“Thank you, your Highness. I take the invitation as an honour.”
You felt warm. Even as Ojiro slipped his mask back into place then turned for the door, a wonderful feeling stayed in your heart. You had almost forgotten what it felt like to be treated as an equal.
“May our meetings always be as blessed,” you said as he gripped the door to leave. He nodded, turning back to look at you.
“I have no doubt that they will.”
With a final curt bow, he left and closed the door behind him. You stayed still for a while, letting the events of the last ten minutes play through you. They had come so suddenly and so by chance that you had to wonder if it was fate. You were the luckiest princess alive to have the only member of the entire court willing to teach you such boorish lessons drop into your room out of the blue.
Ojiro seemed to believe it was best to hide his intentions to train you from the Queen, and though you wondered of his reasoning, you agreed wholeheartedly that it would be your secret. Not only would it set you back if your mother found out, but you daren’t think what would befall Ojiro if the Queen realised he was teaching you anything uncouth. You had only just made his acquaintance, you would rather not see his head on the royal chopping block.
Besides, you liked having a secret to share with someone. It bonded you, and you hadn’t felt bonded to anyone in any way in such a long time.
Letting a smile drift on to your lips, you wandered to your window and breathed a great sigh as the draft tickled your face. Perhaps your freedom was not so far away. Perhaps there was yet a way to keep your beloved kingdom safe even while you struggled to become the bargaining chip your parents desperately needed. The world was vast. It seemed there were possibilities you were yet to discover. You wouldn’t give up hope yet.
Your smile widened as you looked down into the courtyard some sixty feet below. Your smile widened and widened until you started to laugh, and you clutched your hand to your chest as an excited giddiness filled you. What utter absurdity. What delightful nonsense.
Ojiro had gotten into your room earlier, and certainly not by the door. Whether he had scaled the castle or bounced up here on his tail, he had not broken a sweat. He had greeted you with such poise that you had forgotten until this very moment how absurdly tall the tower was.
You were certainly in good hands with Ojiro mentoring you.
------
------
I really hope you enjoyed, my lovely. Thank you so much for this ask. It gave me so much inspiration and now I love royal assassin Ojiro with all my heart~
(Art by Iamcarlosm on Fiverr. He deserves love and support. All the love for this piece aahhhh---)
