noble lines AU - shirayuki's POV first hearing about obi and kiki and/or meeting obi for the first time
Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)
Five hours a bride and still she does not know what to dowith this sense of… relief.
Raj is gone. Or- at least he is no longer here, but in his rooms or with Izana orjust- somewhere else. Still, her hands tremble faintly at her side, heartpounding like she was twelve summers and just got caught kissing the boy nextdoor – faintly sick, faintly exhilarated, and verging on exhaustion. Restingher back eyes the wall, the tension in her lungs break, eyelashes flutteringshut.
“Hey,” a voice, soft and earnest at her shoulder givesher a start, but when her head snaps towards it, all she can see are clear blueeyes, a quirked smile and a sincere face. “How are you doing?”
Shirayuki laughs, breathy, palm still pressed to her chest.“Better.”
“Good.” Zen’s hand at her elbow should not be a surprise,not now, but it presence is as comforting as it ever was. “I’m glad this workedout.”
“Mm, me too.” Shirayuki’s eyes pass over the room,landing on the man to whom she is freshly wed. The woman who hasnot left his side in hours, currently speaking with him in hushed, clippedtones. And the not-quite-nausea that has been ever present for the past two months roilsin her gut.
“Shirayuki,” Zen draws her back, out of the bog beforeshe can sink into it. “Obi’s a good man. He’ll be good to you. And if he’s not-”He draws his thumb across his neck, tongue peeking out from beneath his lips andhe slowly crosses his eyes, tilting his head at an awkward angle.
She stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. “Oh!”she slaps her hands to her cheeks, once, about as hard as his meaning hits her.“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. He’s your friend and I would never-”
Zen laughs, loud and full, grabbing hold of her to dragher palms from her face. “It was a joke!” he grins, squeezing her wrists inemphasis. “Shirayuki, calm down. I was just kidding.”
Swallowing hard, her eyes involuntarily seeking out her-her husband. For a moment, they land on amber, at the spark of gold caught inthe late afternoon light before they slide off her, shadows drawing sharp linesdown his cheek. His mouth moves, replying to something that Lady Kiki saidwhile he rubs the back of his head. Her stomach stabs, sharp, when he rests anassuring hand on her shoulder.
“He’s very devoted to her.”
Shirayuki rears back, stung. “What?”
Zen is looking towards them as well, the lines at thecorner of his eyes strained. “He didn’t tell her until a few hours ago. Thishas to be hard for them both, too. I can’t remember a time that they were apartand now…” His voice drifts off in a soft puff of laughter. “Sometimes I wonderif they still share the same bed.”
Shirayuki’s mouth parts and Zen blanches a moment later,the words catching up to his brain just as the ground gives out from under her.Turning towards her swiftly, he raises both hands in supplication. “Not that Ithink- they’ve never- I mean, I’ve never been given any reason to suspect thatthey’ve-“
Hands gripping in vain against the smooth papering thatcovers the wall, Shirayuki fears that she may vomit.
“I keep making this worse.” Zen grimaces, hands retreatback to himself and instead pluck at his bangs. “What I mean to say is: they’reclose. Childhood friends. He’s been her companion since she was six.”
That only absolves her guilt by a margin. She rememberswhen her grandparents forbid boys from going to her room shortly after herfirst menses; the awkwardness in the conversation that followed. But still, noone- no one placed especially strong emphasis on her virtue. Not like- like theheir to an earldom would. If they still shared a bed, then-
There had to be some expectation, at the very least, thatthe two of them would be something more.
“Have I ruined it for them, then?”
“Hardly,” Zen snorts. “There was a time that there wasrumors, but they- well, they never came to anything much.”
Shirayuki swallows, hard, and she- she wants to press, butshe’s not sure how. Taking a few clearingsteps towards the balcony as to not have to- to look at them, she manages,“It’s strange, though, to be married to a man and know almost nothing abouthim.”
When she looks back, Zen’s eyes are wide, confused and,ah, that’s right. He couldn’t understand, could he? Marrying for love is asforeign to him as marrying for power is to her. “Ah,” he flushes, fiddling withhis sleeves. “I hadn’t… thought too much about that. When I went to fetch him.But- I suppose- you could ask me?”
She wants to, but something rankles at the thought. “Iwouldn’t want to… be dishonest… towards either of them.”
Zen’s smile turns fond. “I’ll be careful to not go toofar.”
“Okay.” Hands smoothing down her skirts, Shirayuki stepsout into the sunlight. “How about- how about something easy. How did you meet?”
“Well,” Zen drawls, stretching his arms out to the side.His mouth trembles at some unspoken joke. “My parents always had it in theirhead for Kiki and I to marry…”
PROMPTATHON: Obi goes looking for his mother, and Shirayuki (of course) comes with. Shirayuki gets some tastes of Obi's past. Obi's not sure what he expected to find (or not find), but it sure wasn't this.
Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)
A/N: I decided to tease this scene from future Noble Lines chapters because this prompt has gone unanswered for far, FAR too long and I am determined to clean out my ask box.
Content warning: Mentions of abuse. Everything kept below the cut not so much for explicit content, but spoilers.
The carriage clatters around them, cobblestones testing the workmanship of hinges and Shirayuki grips her hands together tighter. Each bend in their journey brings a crash of stone to wheel to box, rattling her teeth and the possibilities flitting around in her brain so fiercely that one conclusion is just as elusive as another.
What if he was taking her to his house? Did he have one here? If not, was he taking her to an inn? It wouldn’t be so untoward to assume. Just because he didn’t come to her room to make his claim last night doesn’t mean he… couldn’t. Whenever he wanted.
Shirayuki glances at him out of the corner of her eye, assessing, and he’s- he’s very large. Not just in height but the broadness of the shoulders, his clothes doing little to hide the lean strength that would be much greater than hers should he test it.
Shirayuki unclenches her hands, smoothing them down the folds of her skirt.
Zen had- he had promised that Obi was a good man. A kind man. A man that wouldn’t… press his advantage just because the law said she belonged to him. But back in Tanbarun, she had known far too many men called “good” and “kind” by their peers. They were the type that sent their wives to her apothecary in the middle of the night. A fall down the stairs here, a run in with a cabinet door there - each and every limp and bruise and sprain shielded by a bashful smile and a claim of clumsiness.
Shirayuki has no way of knowing if Obi is of their ilk. Or if Zen was capable of telling the good men apart from those with only good faces. All she knows is that she upset him. Somehow. Someway. And she wishes to make it right, but each second lived in uncertainty clutches at her heart, grabs at her throat until she cannot breathe.
“Where are we going?” she finally asks out loud.
Obi’s face is illuminated only through the slats between window and curtain, bars of light keeping him more hidden than not and she- she should be nervous, being in a closed carriage like this with a man she knows little of. She is nervous. But he’s- he’s her husband. This stranger is as close as family now, and there’s no one - no Prince nor King nor common man - that would find fault in their closeness, their privacy.
He turns towards her and her eyes drift up to the scar that touches his forehead.
“I wanted to show you something,” he says, voice strange. “About me.”
That does nothing to calm her. If anything, it makes the space feel tighter. “You could just tell me!” she laughs, voice high. “I’m a good listener!”
A smile twitches his lips, lopsided and bordering on fond. “Zen told me.”
The cabin lurches suddenly, the carriage coming to a stop, and she yelps, tumbling forward. It all happens so quickly: Her hands stretch out before her, too little too late, wide eyes latched to bench opposite as she falls towards it. Her body coils, flinching already, preparing for the blossom of pain of her face meeting the sharp edge-
Only for it to not come.
Warmth grasps ahold of her forearms, firm and gentle, and in the stillness of the moment, it takes her a couple of seconds to realize that she is no longer falling. Heart still pounding, body still half expecting the crack of skin to wooden base, her eyes flutter open slowly, tentatively, to reveal golden buttons and black wool mere inches from her face.
“Uhm,” she manages, breathless, the warmth flexing against her, and oh- Oh. Those are. Obi’s hands. Holding her.
Face burning, half wanting the world to swallow her whole, her eyes drag up the row of buttons to the peek of skin above the tie of his cravat. Past the chin and lips and well-shaped nose, she finally meets eyes wide and round as two gold coins.
“Are you-” his voice gives out a little - maybe he needs a lozenge? - and he coughs to clear it. “Are you alright, Miss?”
She stares mutely for a beat too long before their closeness registers. Jolting, she pulls back, Obi’s hands dropping away so quickly that he might have been burned.
“Uhm,” she says again, so intelligent. “Y-yes. Just fine. Thank you.”
She’s not looking at him, so she cannot match the expression to make sense of his voice when he replies, “Anytime, Miss.”
Swallowing, Shirayuki looks around the carriage, confused. “We stopped,” she says, and really. She’s smarter than this. One day she’ll prove it to him. “What- what happened? Why have we stopped?”
He’s peeking out the window when she feels brave enough to look at him, and the grin on his face doesn’t exactly look… happy. “We’re here.”
Before she can ask where ‘here’ is, the driver opens the door, letting bright midday light pour inside.
“Come on,” he says, already halfway out. “This should answer your questions.”
Frowning, Shirayuki watches him jump down, turning towards the carriage with a fools grin and hand extend.
Against her better judgement, she reaches out. Takes it.
And ignores the way her arms still itch maddeningly beneath her clothes.
~ ~ ~
The neighborhood she spills out into is quiet, idyllic. As close to the peacefulness of nature as one could get in the midst of a Capital. Little trees dot the side of the road, the walkways free of debris and overgrowth. Narrow townhouses press up tightly against one another, each painted in more festive colors than the next, curtains pulled open wide to reveal scenes of ladies taking tea or bent over embroidery. A few seem empty, windows open only to let in the early spring air after a long and hard winter, but Obi is not leading her to any of those.
The house he approaches is a few seasons past due for fresh paint, all the curtains closed up tight against prying eyes. And all at once, Shirayuki’s heart knocks hard against her ribs once again.
“Is this yours?” she asks.
Obi glances over his shoulder, his mouth trembling like she said something funny, and doesn’t answer. Instead, he takes hold of the knocker and raps three times.
Not his, then.
It doesn’t take long before the door shudders, opening by half to reveal the confused face of a girl slightly older than herself. She’s dressed simply, black dress accented by a starched white apron, and Shirayuki doesn’t even get the chance to catch her eye in greeting before the girl’s mouth goes slack.
“I’m sorry for not sending word ahead of me. Everything has happened so quick,” Obi begins, his voice soft with the admission, and this- it is definitely not his house. “But I was hoping that she would see me without notice.”
“Of- of course!” The maid stutters, eyes drifting from him to her then back again. Maybe aware that she is gaping, her gaze drops like a rock to the ground. Opening the door wider, she says, “Please. Come in.”
The house may have some veneer of faded beauty on the outside, but on the inside, it is as if it has been lost in time. Fine paintings of flowers and little fruit shaped figurines wilt under the weight of dust, long abandoned cobwebs floating from fine glass lamps. The silver tea set and silverware, too, has turned, unused and unkempt for too long on their displays, and the intricate wallpaper depicting a garden party in the midst of summer peels a little in the corners.
Shirayuki sneezes.
Obi glances down at her, frowning, and Shirayuki casts him a little apologetic smile. “It’s the dust,” she says, voice low in case the lady of the house is close enough to hear.
His frown deepens, glaze sliding off her and to the maid gesturing for them to take a seat on a mouldering sette. Shirayuki takes it, and sneezes again.
“There certainly does seem to be an unseemly amount,” he says pointedly.
The maids shoulder round in a wince. “The lady of the house says she prefers it thus.”
Shirayuki’s forehead wrinkles, glancing around them. Somehow, she doubts it.
Obi presses on, voice dropping to a low hiss. “Just because she has no room to complain doesn’t mean it should be kept in such a state.”
“It is only me and the lady, my lord,” the maid replies, her voice thick with apology and a hint of weedling. “We were going to do a thorough cleaning now that Spring is here.”
Throat working like a dog chewing down a growl, Obi asks, “Has he not been sending allowance?”
There’s so much going on that Shirayuki doesn’t understand. So many words that are passing over her head and she- she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t know why, but she is filled with the strange desire to be angry with him. To be filled with the comfort of righteous discontent and set on the path to fix it.
“He sends enough to keep the lady in comfort,” the maid finally responds.
Obi’s lips are pressed tight and there’s a rage along the line of his shoulders. “I’ve taken a position as a messenger to the second Prince,” he says, finally, and the girl starts. “I’ll ensure more funds be sent soon. In the meantime, I’ll come when I can. I look forward to this house becoming more… habitable.”
The maid starts. She shakes her head, sputtering a protest. “My lord!“
“Lylette!” a voice floats from somewhere up the stairs, halting their conversation. The words are stilted, carefully carving Clariness from an accent Shirayuki cannot recognize. “Lylette, who is it? Has someone come to call?”
Shirayuki’s eyes drift over to her husband, but Obi has gone stock still, eyes frozen on the stairwell.
At the top of it, a woman, rail thin and wrapped in a dressing gown made of patterned silk hovers like a ghost. There’s something strange about her, something sickly that has nothing to do with the way her black hair hangs unfashionably loose and glossy down to her waist.
“Yes, my lady! Just a moment!” the maid calls, rushing up the stairs with a strange sense of urgency. When Lylette reaches her, hand taking the small fingers that just peak from beneath the lady’s heavy sleeves and leading her down the stairs, Shirayuki finally sees it. The way that the white of her eyes never end, instead of enveloping the iris and pupil in a milky film. “We have guests-”
Her smile is a beautiful thing that is hidden away mere moments after it bloomed, her free hand raising from the railing to shield her mouth. “Oh my,” she breathes, navigating the stairs with a graceful ease. “It’s been such a long time. Who is it?”
Obi hasn’t spoken, hasn’t moved. So much so that Shirayuki had temporarily forgotten he was even there, but he does now, his voice gentle but loud enough to be heard. “It’s me.”
The woman stops on the steps, her painted lips parting in shock.
hhhhhhhh i love the ten vows au sm it's so beautiful ;-; .i also rly love and noble lines au!!!! kiki and obi's relationship is so great and i can't wait to see where that's gonna go !!!! i am become death is still so 👌👌👌 i still die every time i reread it. and i rly rly like neither the wolf nor the mountain too!!! :DD
Obi stares at the open door of the carriage dubiously. “Can’t I just ride on a horse?”
“No.”
Kiki is already mounted, steam rising from her mares nostrils, and they both stare down at him in disapproval. “But we could stay until you are better healed. Like the doctors recommend.”
His cheek twitches, looking from her into the dark box. “I don’t need a stallion. I could ride one of the older geldings.”
“And have both of you fall over on the winter roads?” she claps back. “You aren’t well enough to stay on a horse for a day, let alone weeks.”
His shoulders already ache. “I could-”
“I will not be dragging you to the nearest quack so they can sew you back together again when you fall off your mount,” she snaps.
He glares at her.
She glares back. “Then again, it is also possible for you to tell me what’s so important that we can’t wait.”
Obi’s grits his teeth, feet crunching through the snow and he throws himself with as much force as he can inside. Even with the door still open, it already feels too tight a space.
“Happy?” He bends down far enough that he can see her eye twitch.
“Not in the slightest,” she bites, just as a footman closes him in.
His nails scratch along the seats, everything muffled and dark around him. The sound of His Highness and Sir shuffling about in the snow, talking, wishing Lord Seiran and other household members their final goodbye is distant even though they are mere steps away.
He hears a tap on the glass and he forces his eyes open, focusing on an etched silver knob atop a walking cane. It lowers, the face of Kiki’s father taking its place. He gives him a smile and a wink.
Obi grins weakly, bowing his head in deference.
And then the carriage lurches into motion, familiar faces blurring and slipping away far too fast. The columns and stonework of the castle all wave their goodbye’s and too late he remembers more words he wanted to give Makoto, to give Renold, to give every member of the household that took pity on that tiny runt that snuck into their kitchens all those years ago.
The trees he knows and the fenceline that kept him safe sweep by his vision for only a second, disappearing beyond his reach and his lungs grow tight. It’s not safe beyond this land, beyond these walls. He remembers what it was like outside of the estate; nothing but monsters and demons and humans that were worse than them all.
His hands grasp the release for the door.
“Why doesn’t he want to ride in the carriage?” Sirs voice bleeds over the sound of gravel crushed beneath the wheels of the carriage.
“He doesn’t like closed in spaces,” Kiki says, her voice low, but.. not low enough to spare his pride.
His fingers twitch back.
No.
He’s not that little kid. He’s a man now. A warrior, even. Sir said.
The Seiran Estate fades further away.
~ ~ ~
By the end of the first night on the road, every muscle in his body is sore, pain blooming bright behind his eyelids from gritting his teeth. When the the little black box finally comes to a stop, he wants to tear the door from its hinges.
It would be Sir that got to it first, smiling kindly all the way.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Obi grimaces and hopes it looks like a smile, descending as gracefully as a half healed chest wound would allow. “Not bad at all.”
Sir nods, turning on his heel and heads for the doors to the inn.
“I can see if they have a private room available,” Kiki says quietly as she falls into step beside him.
“I’m fine.”
The worry etched across her face is plain as day. “Obi-”
“I’m fine,” he snaps.
She exhales loudly through her nose. “Fine.”
~ ~ ~
She gets him a private room anyway.
It galls him all through dinner and makes him petulant, as temperamental as a coddled nobles child. It’s not who he is yet he cannot stop himself from falling into a broody sulk, answering questions in monosyllables and relying more heavily on his drink than his food. That His Highness and Sirs expressions remain compassionate throughout his moods makes him wallow in shame.
He retreats for the night, breathing worse than before, headache as sharp as ice against his eyes.
Counting his breathes one by one, he tries to drag in enough air; tries to force the stress threatening to crush him outward.
The door pushes open behind him.
He stumbles forward, warbling on unsteady legs. His hands grope for his knives and-
“Steady, Obi.”
His eyes focus sharply on the woman standing at his door, lips drawn thin and her hand banded tight around his wrist.
He looks down at the blade in his hand and blanches. It falls from his boneless hands, clattering against the wooden floorboards.
“Kiki,” he breathes. “I’m sorry. I-”
“You didn’t stab me,” she says, pushing him further back into the room. “In that, you are better than I. Lay down.”
His eyes snaps to hers. “Lay down?”
“Yes,” she gripes, the slightest flush pinking the tips of her ears. She must have had too much to drink tonight, too. “The doctors told me how to care for your injury. I’m going to do that now.”
The back of his knees touch the bed, and he topples backwards, landing on his seat so he has to look up at her.
“That’s not necessary.” His voice sounds too high pitched. “I told you I’m-”
“Fine. Yes. I get it,” she humps, laying her bag out on the bed next to him and opening it. “But if you aren’t going to tell me why we are doing this, at least let me get you to the Capital in one piece.”
The fight goes out of him.
“I want to tell you,” he says softly.
“Then why aren’t you?” she asks, voice tight as her hands as she guides him down onto his back.
He doesn’t know how to explain it.
“Shouldn’t you be pinning Sir to his bed instead of me to mine?” he jokes weakly.
Kiki sighs, her hands at his shoulders less harsh, squeezing the tension there once in a way that he feels it go out of him by half.
“You don’t have to tell me now,” she says, seating herself on the edge of his bed. “But you do have to let me take care of you until you do.”
Obi looks up at her, willing the words to come, but in the end, he just watches her unfasten his shirt.
~ ~ ~
“You two are closer than I remember,” His Highness says quietly, looking out the window as the countryside passes them by.
The air is less sharing this already cramped space with another, but he squints his eyes open, tries to be civil. He is only trying to be kind by riding with him.
“Is that so?”
His Highness’s eyes drag to his, bluer than the clear winter sky beyond their cage. His voice is nothing but a hoarse whisper.
“I am sorry, Obi.”
Obi’s throat stings, and he presses his head back against the wall behind him. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
~ ~ ~
Wistal rises up before them like nothing he’s never seen before. The spires of ivory white look carved out of the snowy mountains from beyond the Seiran Estate, but it is already green here, the first signs of Spring pushing through the frosted ground.
His Highness’s shoulders relax for the first time. He hadn’t realized the burden that Prince carried in seeing him here.
“We’ve arrived!” he grins, bright like the sun. “We made it.”
Obi only has to wonder to what end.
~ ~ ~
“This is the West Wing,” Mitsuhide says, leading them through the exposed inner hallways. “This is where Zen is allowed to keep his people.”
Obi frowns at the exposed hallways, the broad panes of glass opened up towards the flat countryside and the sparkling ocean in the distance. How do people stay warm here during the winter?
“You two settle in,” Mitsuhide smiles. “I have to attend to Zen. I’m sure the paperwork has piled up while we were gone. I’ll come and get you before dinner.”
The door clicks shut behind him and Kiki is still looking around, touching everything and staring up at the high ceilings.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” she murmurs. “To have finally made it here.”
He follows her trail of vision. “Just a little bit.”
“How’s your head?”
He winces. “How long have you known?”
“Zen told me you’ve been grinding your teeth since we left,” she smiles, looking over at him fondly. “You’re also squinting at everything.”
“It’s so bright here,” he protests.
She raises an eyebrow at him. “Not that bright.”
“I think that’s pretty subjective.”
“Well,” she sighs, crossing the room and lacing her arm through his. “If your head is okay, I should still pass you off to the doctors here. See if I did I good enough job taking care of you on the road.”
Obi laughs because his only other choice would be to groan. “It’s fine. It’s fine,” he waves his free hand. “Besides, His Highness will expect us to be where Sir left us.”
She levels him with a bland look and drags him towards the door. “He’ll expect us to be in good health and to not need his permission for every little thing,” she corrects. “And if you are as well as you say, this won’t take long at all.”
Obi sighs, gesturing with a sweep of his arm towards the doors. “Fine. You know this place better than I. Lead the way, my Lady.”
~ ~ ~
It’s only when he seats himself at the examination table, alone and shirtless, that he realizes that this was a horrible idea.
Normally, a bright and clean place like this would be more than enough space to keep his... ailment to a minimum, but after two weeks in a rickety carriage shared with another human being, it is too closed in. With his body exposed at all sides, there are too many blind spots, not enough exits, and too little air.
He barely hears the door open over the pounding of his heart.
A tiny little thing, tinier than even Kiki with nowhere near the build, barely fills half the doorway, but she fills the room with a bright smile, clipboard in hand.
“Hello,” she chirps, her voice lilting in a strange way. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
He smiles, his chest still tight. “Not at all, Miss.”
Her smile falters just a fraction, just enough to know he wasn’t able to keep the breathlessness out of his words. Her eyes scan him once, top to bottom, before closing the door gently behind her.
“What brings you in today?”
It’s worse now that a person is between him and the exit. “I just arrived,” he rushes. “And my companion is a worry wart. Wants to make sure I’m healing okay.”
“Is it just the chest injury?” she asks, her voice lowering the closer she comes to him. “Or were you hurt recently somewhere else?”
He exhales a breathy laugh, shoulders painful and eyes closing tight. “Just the chest injury, Miss.”
She’s too close. “Are you alright?” she asks softly. “I can get someone else if you are uncomfortable with me.”
“I’m just fine,” he clenches his teeth together and forces a smile. “Just overwhelmed by your beauty is all.”
She is silent at that, the soft click of her feet moving further away from him and he wonders how he’s going to explain to His Highness that he’s offended a royal appointee already. If Kiki had just listened, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He would be exploring the Palace grounds and-
-and the sound of wood sliding against wood fills the room, a fresh breeze of chilly spring air raising goosebumps across his skin.
His exhales, his whole body following the movement.
“You know,” she says quietly, coming back to take his wrist. Her fingers are firm when they press to his pulse. “If you are uneasy, you shouldn’t ignore it. Tell me next time.”
He swallows, panting, his chest feeling uncharacteristically warm. Her profile is distant, attention half on the movement of his blood.
“Well you know Miss,” he grins down at her. “I am feeling much more calm now that a pretty girl is taking such good care of me.”
She doesn’t laugh like he hoped. “Do you normally do this?” she asks, letting go of him and making a note on her clipboard. He itches to see what she has written down.
“Just giving compliments where compliments are due.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she cuts in.
His smile trembles around the edges and even to himself it feels fake.
“Now,” she says, the full force of her eyes resting upon him. It nearly strikes him down. “Are you comfortable laying down so I can look more carefully at what brought you in here?”
~ ~ ~
The wall clock is deafening.
He stares up at the ceiling, focusing on anything but the way her fingers graze the skin around the injury.
“You’ve been taking very good care of it,” she murmurs, and it doesn’t cause him pain but it is still tender where she touches it. “Does that hurt?”
He shakes his head. “Not anymore.”
Still, she doesn’t look pleased. “You shouldn’t have been on the road with it still as raw as it is. What were you doing?”
He hums. “Oh, you know. I was just bored and-”
Her expression flattens. “You can tell me the truth. It will take less time.”
He swallows his sigh. This one was nearly as bad as Kiki. He would have to take note to avoid her if he ever needed to come in here again.
“There was an emergency,” he admits, staring back up at the ceiling once more. “Someone needed my help.”
“Rescuing a damsel in distress?” she asks mildly, raising on delicate eyebrow and dabbing a cool gel that immediately warms his skin, and- oh. Maybe it hurt more still than he thought it did. “Are you a knight?”
“Not yet,” he smiles. “Just- just a future messenger.”
“And what should I call you, Sir Messenger?” she smiles at him for the first time since she walked in the door. “If you are planning on staying at Wistal long, I am sure I will see you in here again.”
He certainly hopes not. “You can call me Obi.”
Her hands stutter. “Obi.”
Her mouth wraps oddly around his name, longer on the start and shorter at the end. It makes him nervous, the way she says it.
“But I have many names and aliases. Those are secret, though,” he teases, hoping for another smile.
He doesn’t get one.
“Well, Obi,” she says, straightening up and whipping the remaining gel from her hands. She’s no longer trying to meet his eyes. “I am going to give you a balm for your injury and a cream for your other scars.”
He winces. He had hoped she wouldn’t make mention of them.
“You’ll need to apply them twice a day,” she continues. “Once in the morning and once before bed. You also said you were having headaches?”
He pushes himself up to sitting. “Not that often-”
“There’s no need for you to suffer unnecessarily,” she cuts in, shuffling back nervously. “I’ll make sure the medicine isn’t too strong. Just enough to reduce the pain. And I can have it sent to your rooms as soon as they are complete.”
She’s talking too fast and he doesn’t know what he’s done, but he has the sudden urge to flee. He reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head.
"Thank you, Miss," he says, sliding off the table, careful to not be more in her space than he should.
He’s only a step towards the door when she replies.
"Shirayuki."
Obi freezes mid motion, eyes pulsed wide.
“Come again?” His voice is too thick.
“Shirayuki,” she says, and when he looks back, her hands are gripped tight over her lap, facing him down with a terrified sort of determination. “It would probably be best if you called me by my name. It’s only right if we are to marry.”
Obi looks towards the window, and she doesn’t know if it is weakness of body or the winter lights that makes him so pale.
“Obi.”
“I didn’t want you to do it,” he says quietly. “Not for me. You know that.”
She frowns, taking a step closer. “I know you didn’t want me to accept that duel, but-”
“No.” He stares hard at her. “I wish you didn’t want to kill him for me.”
She exhales noisily, face grim.
“Don’t deny it.” His voice is rough. “I’ve been your second enough times to know you pulled back as much as you could when I stepped in. You would have killed him.”
Her lips set. “I’m not going to deny it,” she replies. “I wanted to kill him. I want to kill him still.”
His eyes close tight. “It’s not your place to risk your future in order to fight off my past.”
“I wish-” she licks her lips. “That is a risk I am willing to take, but I wish you would find yourself worthy of someone defending your honor.”
He lowers his head, staring at the back of his hands.
“I won’t apologize for seeking to end him,” she says, closing the distance between them. When he doesn’t look up, she takes his chin and raises it up, waits for him to open his eyes. “What I am sorry for, Obi, is hurting you.”
She never wants to see this pain in him again. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
She knows it. She already knew it. And it angers her that nothing has changed in his mind between them after she cut him down.
“Please don’t do something so stupid again.”
He smirks. “No promises.”
“Please,” her voice cracks embarrassingly. “Please no jokes.”
His hands fist in the bedding. “That’s not a joke.”
~ ~ ~
As the days pass, so too do they darken, harkening them ever closer to the end of the year.
It’s on the shortest day, between her archery practice with Zen and Mitsuhide and her father’s increasingly fretful coddling as he comes to grips with their lessening days together, that she is grateful to go on one of Obi’s rare walks.
Unfortunately, they cannot go far yet.
“Did they redecorate?” he huffs, sweat sheened across his forehead when reach the landing of the fourth floor.
“For the Solstice,” she reminds him, steering him towards the window seats that they used to tuck into when they were children.
“Ah, right. That’s soon isn’t it?” he breathes, stumbling forward. She catches his hand before he can fall and he immediately tries to wave her off.
She’s had about enough of his pride for today. “That’s right,” she says, sliding an arm under his, briefly staggering under his weight when he bears down gratefully.
“Mm,” he winces, face closed up tight when she lowers him to the seat.
“I told you that you weren’t ready for the stairs yet,” she scolds, seating herself beside him.
“I’m tired of seeing the same set of walls,” he grits, leaning back against the windowpanes and turning his head slightly to peek with one eye out across Seiran lands. “I want to remember more than the third floor when we leave.”
“You’ve lived here most of your life,” she says, grabbing a throw pillow and handing it to him. “I doubt a couple of years will make you forget it entirely. And it’s not like we won’t be coming back.”
“You never know.”
“Ah!” Zen’s head pokes over the stairwell railing, startling them both. “There you two are!”
Obi waves weakly. “Your Highness!” he grins. “Did you miss me so much you organized a search party?”
Zen gives him a flat look, finishing his ascent up the stairs. “Yes. I know you can go so far on your own these days,” he deadpans. “It’s a wonder I found you.”
Obi’s grin broadens.
“Actually,” he begins slowly. “I was looking for Kiki. Mitsuhide was asking for you. He wanted to know if you would show him the Samese archery collection. He heard a rumor you know how to shoot one of their bows.”
“Is that so?” Obi smiles, sharp, and Kiki shoots him a warning glance.
“If you don’t mind making sure Obi doesn’t fall down the stairs on his way back to his room,” she replies, smoothing her skirt.
Zen smiles, too broadly. “Of course,” he says, and the tone is friendly, but his fists are tight at his side. “I’ve actually, ah, got something rather important to talk to Obi about.”
Kiki straightens, staring hard at the Prince. “Oh? What about?”
Zen fists flex. “It is... a private matter. One I would prefer to speak with him about alone.”
“Oh,” Obi says simply, but she can feel the way every joint in his body has locked, preparing for a blow.
She glances over at him and his eyes flicker towards her, saying enough with a single expression.
Her lips purse. “I guess I’ll go find Mitsuhide, then.”
~ ~ ~
She knew he was far too apt with a Northern style blade to be a novice with a Samese bow.
But still, she lets him pretend. Dumb and handsome look good on him. Subterfuge, not so much.
Her breath fogs, leather grip protecting most of her fingers from the biting winds. “It’s not a bow that you can question someone under,” she says, testing the tension of the string before knocking an arrow. “It’s meant for accurate long distance shots.”
Mitsuhide hums, interested. “How often do you hit that target?” he asks, squinting at the painted hay bale some 200 meters away.
“Often enough,” she replies, drawing back the bow before letting the arrow sing across the field.
A definitive thud echoes back.
Mitsuhide whistles, impressed.
“Here,” she says, handing him her bow. “You try.”
He grunts, taking it from her hands and lining himself up with barely any effort to conceal that he knows what he is doing. “I’ve never been good at archery,” he admits.
She watches him carefully. “It takes practice.”
His face screws up, notching an arrow. “I just never know where it’s going to fly,” he complains. “They never move in a straight line.”
“I suppose it is the same as when a Master aims a servant,” she says, eyes latches on the strength of his motion as he draws the bow with little effort. “You never know where they will go once you set them to fly.”
Mitsuhide flinches and the arrow goes wide, disappearing into the forest.
And that-
Well, that is answer enough.
~ ~ ~
Obi is a tense line over dinner, only further increasing as the longest night of the year drags on. His voice is a little too loud, his movements too jerky, and none of it has anything to do with the way he is throwing back the mulled wine.
Her fingers tighten, almost creasing the cards in her hand. He’s been nothing but nervous giddiness all evening, his eyes nor the conversation subject matter sticking to one place. He’s even throwing the game, which would be fine if he wasn’t on her team.
It doesn’t help that neither Zen nor Mitsuhide are meeting her eyes.
“Obi,” she says carefully, folding her cards and laying them across the table. “A moment?”
He’s listing in his chair already and she doesn’t give him a chance before she has him by the arm and has pulled him from the room. He stumbles, tripping over the threshold and catching himself against the wall opposite. Normally, she would feel apologetic for handling him so roughly, and she feels a paign of worry when when he slumps, face paler than before.
But fussing would give him a chance to squirm out of giving her answers.
“What is going on?” she demands.
He’s panting, staring down the hallway with glassy eyes. “Nothing,” he replies.
“It’s not nothing,” she snaps.
“We just-” he pauses. “I just have to go to Wistal sooner than planned.”
“Why?” she asks, stepping forward. “You’re not healed yet.”
“There’s something that His Highness says only I can do.”
He’s never once, not since they were children, been this evasive. “What is it?”
He shakes his head and she marches towards him, wanting to take him by the shoulders and shake the answers out of him.
“Look,” Obi says so softly that it brings her up short. “It’s almost sunrise.”
She turns, following his eyes to where a thin sliver of golden light slides across the parquet.
“It might be our last Solstice together like this.”
He’s making her nervous. “Why are you talking like this?” she whispers fiercely, turning back to him.
“Who knows?” he shrugs. “It feels like everything is going to change this year. And maybe- maybe that’s for the best.”
Her heart skitters fast in her chest and she can’t remember the last time she was scared without a definitive cause. “Obi. Tell me what’s-”
He takes her hand, and with surprising strength tugs her to close the distance. It’s not the first time they’ve done this; it’s not even the second. But when their lips touch, it’s like every Solstice since they’ve been of age and yet… not. The soft press of lips is just as unassuming as every other time, him hunched down and her reaching up by coming onto her toes, but then Obi tilts his head, presses them just a little bit closer for just a little bit longer and her heart jumps. When she pulls back, it is with a reluctance that has never been there before.
“Fair Solstice,” he says softly, fingers still laced in hers.
She frowns, lips still tingling. “Fair Solstice.”
The door to his room opens.
“Look, Kiki,” Zen begins, rubbing the back of his head. “I was thinking that— Oh.”
Zen’s eyes are wide, staring at the lack of space between them and Mitsuhide pokes his head out of the door behind him.
Obi barks a laugh. “I don’t think His Highness was aware of the Solstice tradition,” he says lowly, releasing her hand.
Kiki blinks, flustered and fussing with her clothes. “Ah,” she coughs, covering her mouth. “It’s tradition to share a kiss at dawn after the longest night. It’s good luck.”
“Is that… so?”
“Would Your Highness like a kiss?” Obi grins, sliding past her. “I would be happy to—”
Zen balks, his face as red as a summers tomato. “I’m okay!”
Kiki swans by him. “It wouldn’t do for you to go without. By all rights, you should have been first since you are our guest.”
Her mouth lands on Zen’s before he can offer a protest, and it’s odd, but not in an unpleasant way. His mouth is sweet even in his surprise, where Obi’s is firm and- well… she was going to have to apologize to Obi later on. Zen lips are softer.
“Fair Solstice,” she says, pulling back.
Zen’s eyes are huge. “Fair… um.”
Obi laughs so hard he has to be in pain. He wobbles forward, throwing his arm over Zen’s shoulders. “Take me to bed, Your Highness! I would love to welcome the New Sun with my Princess.”
“You!” Zen bats at him, but braces him against his shoulder anyway.
Obi looks over his shoulder. “Don’t forget Sir,” he purrs, just as the door clicks shut behind them.
Kiki’s back goes ramrod straight.
He left them alone.
On purpose.
That sneak.
Mitsuhide clears his throat. “Ahaha,” he begins. “That Obi, huh? He’s so-”
She composes herself. This was no different from the other two. Just... tradition. That’s all. “Mitsuhide.”
The man straightens, color high on his cheeks.
“It is easier if you lean down,” she says, sly smile creeping onto her face. “Unless you were hoping for a kiss from Obi, that is. I could always call him back.”
“I, ah, um…”
“He talks quite highly of you. I doubt he would object.”
Mitsuhide blushes more, hand nervously clenched in his hair. “Ah, as long as you don’t object?”
“I’m the one that offered,” she says, taking a few steps closer. “I wouldn’t have done that if I objected.”
Mitsuhide swallows so hard she can hear it and she feels a little thrill at having so thoroughly thrown him off.
“Don’t dawdle,” she teases, hand resting on his chest, marveling at how solid he feels under her palm. “Dawn will be over soon and you will suffer bad luck for an entire year.”
He makes a little embarrassed sound. “If you insist,” he says, leaning down and she has done this enough times with a taller partner to know how to close the distance. Tilting her head, she pushes herself onto her toes and meets his kiss as politely as he offers it.
He smells like mulled wine and the leather attaché cases he is so fond of, just the faintest stubble prickling her lips. Warmth crawls down her spine, a sigh caught in her throat at how, even in this, she can feel the restrained strength in him, the solid core and harsh discipline that Sereg knights are so well known for.
He’s the one that draws back first.
Slowly, she draws in a breath and lowers herself to the flat of her feet, savoring the taste of his breath still in her mouth.
Her eyes drag open to find him watching her carefully.
*Secret Santa swings across the Atlantic and drops a present down your chimney* IT’S CHRISTMAS WHERE YOU LIVE. GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME!
Merry Christmas @septhi-draw!
Chapters 1-14
It’s a fortnight’s travel from Wistal to Seiran, provided there are no complications. And fortunately, there is not. Oak gives way to pines, frost to thickening snow. At every village and inn they take shelter at, the manners shift. The polite deference in the South shifts to overly friendly welcomes the further north they go. The food becomes thicker. The beds, harder.
It feels – almost – like he’s heading home.
When the tree line ends, giving way to a flat blanket of rolling white, they stop, breathing in a great inhale of icy air.
“Finally,” Zen sighs, rolling his neck. “I don’t think I want to see a horse for at least a week.”
“Is that Seiran Castle?” Mitsuhide inquires with a tilt of the head. Surely, it was a greater house than he would ever have, but it seemed… not enough. “I would have thought such an old name would be housed in a more—”
“Ostentatious setting?” Zen supplies, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “Seiran didn’t become the oldest name in the kingdom by showing off.”
Mitsuhide blinks at him.
Zen smiles sadly, tapping the side of his horse to urge them both towards the conclusion of this journey. “I heard the household went under great hardship for the sake of my family after my father’s death. If it weren’t for this… humble presentation, I doubt it would still be standing.”
Mitsuhide looks up at the towering gray stone and spires. “Is that why Lady Kiki is the only Clariness noble still listed as a potential future wife?”
Zen hums. “Perhaps,” he admits after a time. “But thankfully, Kiki wants nothing of it. We’re just a way to keep marriage meetings to a minimum anymore.”
Mitsuhide glances at the Prince, concerned.
“Can you have the horses stabled when we arrive?” Zen asks with a smile that does not meet his eyes. “I would like to speak with Lord Seiran in private for a moment.”
Mitsuhide’s concern only intensifies. “Of course.”
~ ~ ~
The stables are heated here, burners bright at every corner and his face flushes at the sudden rush of warmth from the second he passes through their doors.
“Ahhhh,” he sighs, kicking the ice off of his boots as he looks around for a groom.
A blonde head pops out from one of the stables, a deep frown worrying their brow, and Mitsuhide smiles.
“Squire!” he calls in greeting, dusting the snow off of his hair. “Can you take our horses?”
Large eyes round in surprise and Mitsuhide laughs when the boys mouth doesn’t seem to know how to answer the question. He leans in, looking around them conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone else,” he whispers dramatically. “But the lipizzan is the Second Prince’s favorite mount. I’m trusting you with a very important mission in taking care of him.”
“Um.”
“The thoroughbred is mine,” he continues brightly, sitting up straight and patting the flank of his own horse. “She starts easy, but she’s a good horse. They’ve come a long way. Just make sure they don’t drink too much cold water and get them dry. And if you could give them some extra grain that would be nice, too.”
The boy pinks at the cheek when he hands him their reigns. “Um. Sure?”
Mitsuhide brings his hand down on his head, ruffling his hair, and is charmed at the way he ducks his head, pinking more. He remembers how it was at that age. Every new knight that came across his path was a joy.
“We’ll be here for a while,” he informs him cheerily. “Maybe you and I can spare some time in the training yard, providing the Lord can spare you. It’s important business that you do here, after all. Must keep you busy. But I’ll be sure to pass your good deeds on to the Lord of the House.”
“…Great.”
~ ~ ~
In some respect, the out of doors is reflective of the inside of the Seiran manor. In others, it most certainly does not.
The butler leads him through the great doors into the main hall, a cavernous thing which echoes every footstep that clicks against its marbled floors. It has all the refinement of Wistal with its towering paintings documenting Seiran’s heritage and fine sculptures that were certainly more difficult to safely carry over the mountains, but it is as if the forest itself has been brought in from the cold. Bright banners of holly red line the paneled walls and wreaths of evergreens fill the space in between. Trees laden with baubles and fresh candles fill every corner and, ah- even the ceiling has not been spared foliage and décor.
“Lord Seiran,” Zen announces and Mitsuhide’s jaw snaps shut, eyes quickly dragging from the glass dangling from the ceiling like icicles. “This is my retainer, Mitsuhide Roeun.”
Seiran appraises him with a cool once over. “Very good,” he nods. “You’ll have to forgive my daughter for not being here to greet you. She went out riding this morning, but she should be back in time for dinner.”
“I look forward to meeting her, Lord Seiran.”
Zen smiles, appeased. “And Obi?”
Seiran’s face tenses around the eyes. “Unfortunately, he is still taking his meals abed. It will be a while still before he can join us at the main table.”
“Can I see him?” Zen asks gently.
“Of course, Your Highness. Please,” he gestures, “follow me.”
~ ~ ~
They’ve just reached the fourth door on the third floor when Lord Seiran pauses, hand held over the doorknob.
“I must tell you,” he says grimly, his head bowed. “That while my description of Obi’s injuries were brief, they were not understated. He is still very weak.”
Zen takes a deep breath. “I understand.
The door opens from the inside, swinging open to reveal a tiny, but round, woman with fly away gray curls.
“Oh, Your Lordship!” she frets, shifting a bowl filled with bloody cloth to the side. “All of my apologies. I just finished changing his bandages.”
Seiran grimaces. “It’s quite alright.”
His eyes fixate on the bowl as she bobs. It must have been a deep wound to still be seeping enough to leave traces like that.
“Pardon,” she says, slipping past them.
Zen’s eyes follow her, and he looks as pale as his hair. “Is that the infamous Cookie Kiki and Obi speak so highly of?” he asks weakly.
Lord Seiran’s smile is faint but present. “It is. She’s seen three generations of Seirans well fed.” He gives Zen a meaningful look. “With any luck, she’ll see a fourth.”
The blood rushes back to Zen’s face in a flush and he muses his already unruly hair. “Ah…” His eye flash, panicked to Mitsuhide before forcing a grin. “I shouldn’t keep Obi waiting. Come on, Mitsuhide. Let me introduce you to my future messenger.”
“O- oh!” Mitsuhide stutters, dragged through the half opened door. “Of course!”
Mitsuhide thinks he catches a sparkle of humor in Seiran’s eyes as they sweep past him.
~ ~ ~
The first impression of the boy Zen had not stopped talking about since the first day they met is that he is lucky to be alive.
The boy laid out beneath the blankets is all lank, sweaty and sickly pale beneath a skin tone not native to Clariness soil. From the look of him, by all rights he should be unconscious, but he is panting, floundering under the weight of his covers, hands braced against the mattress as he struggles to push himself up to sitting.
“Your-”
“Obi,” Zen crosses the room quickly, placing a staying hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get up.”
Strange, cat like eyes stare up at Zen and he reluctantly lowers himself back down to the pillow. “Your Highness,” he greets, his eyes folding shut in embarrassment.
“None of that,” Zen says, pulling up a chair. “And how many times have I told you to use my name?”
Obi smiles faintly, his lips so pale he can see the blue of his blood. “At least once more, Your Highness.”
Zen laughs, patting a lump at the edge of the bed where the boys hand must be. “You scared me, you know? Getting yourself hurt like that. I had to run clear across the country because I thought ‘If Obi of all people can’t make it to Wistal, he has to be on his deathbed.’”
Obi huffs a laugh. “Not quite.”
Zen’s voice gentles. “I am glad of that.”
Obi ducks his head, eyes peeking back open and a smile bordering on shy tugging at his lips.
“What are you doing, getting yourself involved with the business end of the sword like that?” Zen admonishes. “Don’t you know I need you above ground?”
“I’m fine,” Obi replies. “Just a little scrape, is all.”
“I heard you took the blade to your chest,” Mitsuhide says, drawing both of their attention. “That’s not a small thing.”
Obi opens his eyes wider, wary. “It really is nothing.”
Zen smiles at Obi, and reaches with his free hand to grab Mitsuhide’s forearm. “Obi, this is my man, Mitsuhide. You and Kiki will be working together when you are better and can make it to Wistal.”
“Ah,” Obi nods, clearing his throat. “Hi.”
Mitsuhide grins, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Can we see?”
Obi blinks. “See?”
“Well, I guess you can’t take off your bandages yet,” he concedes. “But it’s tradition to show off your scars!”
The first sign the boy still has blood in him rises to his cheeks. “Um.”
“Here,” Mitsuhide says, tugging his shirt over his head. “I’ll show you mine.”
When clothes clears his vision, Obi is staring at him with wide eyes; Zen at his side, slack jawed.
“This one,” Mitsuhide begins, pointing to an ugly gash along his side, “I took at a tourney. It was a dirty trick, but I still won the bought.”
The light behind the boy’s eye shines. “It looks nasty. What happened to the other guy?”
Mitsuhide grins. “Disqualified after the fact.”
“And that one?”
Mitsuhide scrunches his neck, looking down at his chest. “Ah! This one,” he says, pointing at the rough line that crosses his collarbone, “was in pursuit of a thief. They threw a dagger at me and got a lucky shot in.”
“I am good with throwing daggers,” Obi offers, before backpedaling. “I- I mean-”
“Really? That’s a great skill! I never could get the hang of it myself.” He pulls back on his shirt. “You’ll have to show me when you’re feeling better. Maybe you could teach me something that they couldn’t in Sereg.”
Obi positively glows, and he manages to wink at him. “Only if you can keep up.”
Mitsuhide chokes back a laugh. Zen wasn’t exaggerating about this part of his personality at all.
“Now yours,” he asks with a tilt of the chin. “Where did the sword leave its mark?”
The good humor melts from the boy’s face and Obi grimaces. “You’ll have to help me with the bedding,” he says.
Mitsuhide nods, rolling the covers down just enough to reveal the bands of fresh cloth wound across his torso. Even so recently changed, there are still light pink marks against the white. Mitsuhide’s lips draw into a thin line.
“It goes from here,” Obi reaches up, touching where his clavicle must be and draws a straight line across his front to his ribcage on the opposite side. “To here.”
So it was as he thought. Whatever happened was no mere accident.
But now was not the time to be asking these sorts of questions.
“Wow!” he leans back, impressed. “You’re like a warrior for living through that! Mine aren’t nearly as impressive as yours.”
“Ah,” Obi turns his head, looking out the window. “There’s no way to tell. Might not even leave a mark by the time it heals.”
“Well,” Zen interrupts, looking positively ill. “When it’s healed up, you’ll have to share.”
“Do you have scars, Your Highness?” Obi rolls his head across the pillow to give the Prince a weak grin.
Zen sputters. “Of course not!”
“Now, now,” Obi’s smile grows just a bit, but his breath is short. He’s overdoing it. “Don’t be shy. You should share with the rest of the class.”
Zen makes a frustrated noise. “You’re just as outrageous as ever!”
“I just wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t forget you,” Obi laughs, eyes fluttering as he sinks back against the pillows.
A soft knock at the door pulls their attention.
“Pardon me, Your Highness; Good Sir,” the woman from before nods. Her aprons have changed and are now spotless white. “Dinner is served in the main hall.”
Zen nods. “Rest, Obi,” he says, rising from his chair. “I’ll come and visit again tomorrow.”
Obi licks his lips, eyes opening again with some effort. “Have you-” his eyes dart towards him, unsure. “Have you seen Kiki yet?”
Zen pauses, looks at Mitsuhide and then back down to Obi. “No, not yet,” he says slowly. “Is everything alright?”
“I-” Obi’s face darkens. “Yes. Everything is alright. I just- I just wanted to know if she was okay. I haven’t seen her… since.”
Zen frowns. “I’m sure she just doesn’t want to tire you,” he comforts. “She has to be missing you terribly.”
Mitsuhide has never seen one so young look so old. “I wonder…”
~ ~ ~
“You didn’t tell him,” Mitsuhide says quietly when the Cook has rolled her food cart into Obi’s room and closed the door behind her.
Zen grimaces, cape fluttering as he turns on his heel and leads them back to the stairwell. “It’s not a good time,” he says, glancing around to make sure they’re alone. “I want to give him time to heal. It would be too much of a shock to bring it up now.”
Mitsuhide’s face pulls tight. This isn’t fair to any of them. “He needs some time to think it over before giving you an answer.”
“I know.” Zen runs his hand through his hair. “It’s just- This would have been so much simpler if he hadn’t gotten hurt. They would have had time to get to know each other.”
“But he did get hurt,” Mitsuhide reminds him gently. “And she’s running out of time.”
~ ~ ~
His upbringing in Sereg prepared him little for being in the presence of the fairer sex. What women he knew were servants or bride’s to elder knights; women who possessed a core of steel, but little grace. His time in Wistal had rectified that to an extent, but even there he had not met a Lady like the one here.
Lady Kiki is that of a vision, descending the stairs in waves of gossamer indigo that sets off the golden halo of her hair. Every inch of her is fair and lovely and he can see the years of training that kept her steadily as one of the most sought after brides in the kingdom.
Zen and Lord Seiran’s eyes are wide as saucers. It’s amazing that she has this effect on even those who know her well.
Seiran recovers first. “Kiki,” he says. “Darling. You look stunning.”
She places a delicate hand on her father’s outstretched palm. “I thought I would air out one of my dresses. As appropriate to meet our company.”
Lord Seiran’s expression is inordinately pleased and Mitsuhide glances between her and Zen. Kiki greets the Prince with all the deference and poise his station deserves, as much warmth as proper for a Lady of her standing, and Zen-
Well, Zen is watching her with a very odd expression, indeed.
~ ~ ~
If she were not an Earl’s daughter and not on the short list for potential Princess, Mitsuhide would be hard pressed not to court this woman.
“I have always been interested in the Sereg military training, Lord Rouen,” she says, perched delicately over her soup spoon. “Did you train there since childhood?”
“Yes,” he smiles kindly. “I started as a Page there when I was six, and stayed until a year after I received knighthood.”
“That’s impressive,” she commends. “You were made a knight unusually young, were you not?”
Mitsuhide feels his face heat. “Not at all, Lady,” he says with a shake of his head. “There have certainly been ones that were younger.”
“If there have been,” she says, appraising him with a glance as cool as her fathers. “I certainly have not met them.”
Zen clears his throat delicately. “Are you going to join us in the training yard tomorrow? Show ‘Sir Rouen’ how to properly wield a weapon?”
Kiki flinches, silverware nearly tumbling from her fingers. “Oh,” she recovers quickly, face rearranging itself until it is unreadable as Prince Izana’s. “Um. Yes. Of course. That would be… lovely.”
~ ~ ~
Zen sighs dramatically for the third time that morning.
“Did you not sleep well, Zen?” Mitsuhide asks, lifting a halberd from it’s hold amongst the other weapons lining the wall and appraising it’s weight. “I can speak with the butler if there is some issue with your accommodations.”
“No,” Zen says, but his voice malcontent. “No, it’s just- Everyone here seems to be so happy to see you.”
Mitsuhide swallows a smile. “They’re just being polite,” he replies, taking the pole in both hands and giving it one testing swing. “Me being new here and all.”
Zen doesn’t sound convinced. “Do you really think-?”
“Oh!” Mitsuhide perks when a young man enter the training room. “That is the Squire I told you about! Hello!” He waves enthusiastically.
When he glances over at Zen, his face is the perfect picture of horror.
He wonders why.
“I’m so sorry,” Mitsuhide says, turning back to the young man who is staring at him from across the room. “I never did get your name back in the stables.”
“…you’re an idiot.”
The squire lifts his wrist to his mouth to hide a smile.
~ ~ ~
“I thought we would practice archery,” Lady Kiki says much later after much groveling.
Zen makes a disappointed sound, hand already wrapped around a wooden practice sword. “I missed sparring with you, though.”
Her jaw ticks. “I haven’t been too involved with swordplay these days,” she says dryly. “It’s doesn’t hold my interest.”
“Ah, come on Kiki,” Zen presses. “You love swordplay.”
“My temperament is not good for a blade,” she pushes back.
Mitsuhide’s brows furrow.
Zen looks crestfallen. “You’ve been practicing since you were a little kid, though! Beat all the neighboring Lords sons, remember?”
“He didn’t tell you, did he?” she asks the ground.
The final dot makes it’s connection in his brain. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like they’ve done the same in Zen’s.
“Did who tell me what?” he asks.
Kiki’s face crumbles. “Of course he didn’t,” she whispers.
“You don’t-”
“Excuse me for just a moment,” she bobs her head, walking swiftly towards the door.
Zen takes a step to follow her and Mitsuhide catches his hand on his shoulder, holding the Prince back.
“I think I know what’s going on,” he says quietly. “Let me.”
~ ~ ~
He finds her on the stairwell facing the low lying sun. This time of year, the light only peaks over the horizon and its stark light casts her in harsh shadows.
“Did you mean to cut him down?”
She freezes, every muscle in her body becoming a taut wire. “It doesn’t matter what I meant. It’s what I did.”
Mitsuhide pauses, staring at her hunched back. “He misses you, you know.”
Kiki raises her head from her hands and glares. “You don’t even know us.”
Mitsuhide hesitates for only a moment. There was nothing more intimidating than risking the ire of a noble Lady, but this time he had no choice in the matter.
“This is true,” he nods, staring out across the snow blanketing the Seiran Estate. “But it doesn’t take more than eyes to see your absence is making him sicker.”
“Obi would forgive anyone.” Her voice is so quiet. “Even those that don’t deserve it.”
His lips twitch. “I don’t think it’s your business to say who he can and cannot forgive.”
“I almost split him in two!” she snaps.
Mitsuhide looks down at her and her eyes are filled with liquid fire.
It doesn’t suit her.
“With those little arms?” he replies, rolling his shoulders. “I doubt it.”
Her voice drops low. “Excuse me?”
“Maim, sure,” Mitsuhide comments, nodding to himself. “But split in two? I saw him myself and I assure you, Lady, he is very much only one man. You should go see for yourself.”
“I already saw the damage to him when I made it,” she snaps, shooting up to standing and descending the stair towards the frozen hedges and dry fountains of the gardens.
“Kiki,” he calls, watching her. “Zen tells me you’re an excellent swordsman. I would hate it if I never had the chance to see it myself.”
Kiki stops dead, fists so tight at her side the knuckles are drained of blood. He would swear she was one of the garden statues if he hadn’t witnessed her moving so fluidly just a moment ago.
“One of the best,” he continues, staring at the staggering weight resting on her shoulders. “You could slay dragons if we could find one.”
She finally lets go of a little of it. Looking over her shoulder, she gives him a long considering look. “Did he now?”
~ ~ ~
Obi seems to be getting healthier every day and as the life returns to him, the less he looks like a boy and the more he looks like a man.
Too bad he doesn’t act it.
“What spell did you cast on him?” Zen huffs when Obi preens for him saying so.
“No spell,” Mitsuhide grins. “Everyone here is just so nice. Makes me want to be nice, too.”
Zen glowers, expression broken by Obi laugh and he leans forward with a leer. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. You’ll always be my Princess.”
Zen rolls his eyes towards the heavens. “Are you ever going to live that down? We were, what? Ten?”
“Nine. I was twelve. And you’re still prettier than me,” he replies, eyes sparkling.
“Ughhhh.”
“Lay back down before you pull your stitches, Obi.”
All the blood drains from Obi’s face at once. His head snaps towards the door, expression completely wiped from him.
“Kiki-”
She smiles faintly, hovering at the threshold. “I want to get out of here before my father finds someone to marry me off to. Can’t do that if you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Obi’s mouth struggles to make a shape. “I was wooing my Princess, though,” he jokes weakly.
The air is so thick it is suffocating.
“Well!” Zen claps his hands together and looks pointedly at Mitsuhide. “The day grows late and we still have to go riding with Lord Seiran, do we not?”
Mitsuhide blinks at him. “We do? I mean, it’s still early-”
“Yes,” Zen says through grit teeth. “But we have a lot of things to discuss, do we not?”
“Oh. Oh! Right,” Mitsuhide nods, abruptly coming to stand. “Lots of things.”
“A great many,” Zen agrees, pushing his chair closer to the bed. “We’ll likely be hours.”
Obi and Kiki haven’t even looked away from each other.
“See you tonight,” Mitsuhide offers as he and Zen slide past her.
She tears her eyes away from the man still staring in stock silence. “See you then, Sir Rouen.”
I would like to reiterate, that this is 100% @septhi‘s fault that this has gotten so out of hand XD
All the prompts are now in order with appropriate editing and filling in of the blank spots. Everything from here on out will be completely new in this AU.
* * * *
It’s raining.
And he’s cold.
He curls up at the base of the tree, shivering, and buries his hands under his armpits. Tucking his bare toes under his seat, he winces when sharp sticks tear and cut at frozen skin.
